Chapter 58

ROMILY WOKE UP with a thudding headache and a dry mouth. She tried to lick her lips and realised that she couldn’t because a thick gag was wrapped tightly around her mouth. Trying to move, she discovered that her hands were bound together, as were her feet. She was lying on a filthy sofa in a large room that looked as though it might be in a warehouse: at least, there were rows of industrial-style windows running along the highest point of the walls, where no ordinary house would have windows. It was daylight outside, but the grey patch of sky visible gave no indication what time it was.

What happened? she thought blearily. Where am I?

Then she was drenched in cold horror as she recalled the previous evening. I’ve been kidnapped!

All her life she’d been aware of the threats that surrounded her and the entire family: kidnap, extortion, murder. She’d heard the story of the little Lindbergh baby, kidnapped, killed and buried before his parents could pay a ransom; she’d read about Patty Hearst, abducted for her family’s wealth and turned into a gun-toting criminal; and she knew of the Getty boy who’d had his ear cut off by his captors. She’d always been promised that this would never happen to her – it was one of the reasons she’d accepted the restriction of having bodyguards and security all her life. Everyone knew the de Lisles were worth billions. Romily and her brother had grown up two of the most closely guarded children in Europe.

But it had all been for nothing.

She was cold and stiff. She tried to stretch out but it was difficult without the use of her hands to push herself out of the well of badly sprung seat cushions.

Oh, God, what’s going to happen to me?

She felt herself tremble on the brink of hysteria. If she were able to open her mouth, she feared she’d start screaming and not be able to stop. She began to breathe fast, sucking in air through the gag and her nose, on the point of hyperventilating with panic.

No, stay calm, she told herself. She forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose, pulling as much air as she could into her lungs and holding it in a few seconds before exhaling. It helped. My only hope is to stay completely aware of everything that’s happening. Now – what can I see exactly?

She turned her head and strained to observe everything she could. A pair of wide double doors were tightly shut but she could see a bar of light coming from underneath. If her kidnappers were still around, they must be through there. She was sure she was alone in this big, chilly room. Thank God she’d put on her cashmere jumper before she’d left. Imagine if she were still in her red dress …

She tried to think back over the evening’s events. It was Rocco, she thought dully. He stifled me with that handkerchief. He must be in on this plot somehow.

Remembering the packet of photographs that had arrived that evening, she recalled his agitation. He didn’t know someone else had me in their sights. He must have guessed I was changing my plans unexpectedly, going somewhere that meant he wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he had planned. So he’s brought everything forward.

That, she realised with a cold thud in her stomach, could prove dangerous for her. A kidnap planned and executed on the hoof would mean edgy, panicky captors. She would have to be careful not to shock or frighten them.

Whatever happens, keep calm, be friendly, remind them you’re a human being. Then … perhaps they won’t kill you.

Allegra pulled to a halt in front of Adam’s mansion block. She was damn’ lucky she hadn’t been stopped by the police on her careering journey across town from Knightsbridge to North London, her vision sometimes blinded by tears, but she’d wiped them away angrily and carried on.

Only Adam would understand. Only he knew what it had been like over the last year or so. And to have it all taken away like this!

Why? Why did you do it, David?

She jumped out of the car and buzzed Adam’s apartment. There was no answer. She’d thought that he was heading back here this evening. She pulled out her telephone and rang him, but it went straight through to his voicemail. Where are you?

She stood forlornly on the doorstep, wondering what to do next, then the door unexpectedly opened and one of the inhabitants of the building came out. As the woman left Allegra stepped behind her and stopped the front door from closing. She slipped in and hurried up the stairs to Adam’s flat. Outside his flat was a fire extinguisher cupboard and she knew he kept a spare key stuck to the underside of the cupboard top, out of sight.

I’ll go in and wait for him. He’ll be back soon.

She found the key easily enough, opened the door and went inside. She’d spent many nights in the flat since she and Adam had been together, but had never been here on her own. It was clean, modern and decorated in a plain style, monochrome with the odd flash of colour. Adam liked his gadgets all right – he had a huge plasma screen HD television with cinema-quality sound and plenty of other toys to amuse himself.

What am I going to do? He’ll be devastated, she thought, wandering desolately through the flat. All our work together … how am I going to tell him?

She went into his bedroom. She wanted to lie down on the bed, curl up and go to sleep. Perhaps when she woke up, all this would be just a nasty dream and everything would have gone back to the way it was before.

She shivered, feeling cold. The heating hadn’t come on in the flat and the evening chill was beginning to permeate it. I’ll wear one of Adam’s jumpers.

She went over to the long line of built-in wardrobes where he stored all his clothes and opened it. The wardrobe ran the length of the room and inside was divided up into more cupboards, shelves and drawers. Pulling out some of the drawers, she looked for something suitable. Everything was neatly folded and arranged in colour-coded stacks. She found a grey V-neck lambswool jumper, took it out and slipped it over her silk blouse. It warmed her immediately. Being among Adam’s clothes gave her some comfort, and the neatness of the cupboards and drawers made her smile: it was so like Adam. He liked everything nice and neat. She pulled open another cupboard and stood there, blinking in confusion.

Unlike the other parts of the wardrobe this cupboard was a mess, or at least a muddle of things. No clothes hung from the rail, but some necklaces and rosaries did. On the back wall of the cupboard pictures and newspaper articles were stuck all over, some annotated and highlighted. On the shelf above the drawers were a large framed photograph, some trinkets, and two candles in silver sticks, half burned down, their wicks black and curled.

She frowned and shook her head, unable to take in what she was seeing. Everything looked so familiar and yet so odd. The framed photograph was a face she knew almost as well as her own, even though she hadn’t seen it for years – at least, not in reality. She’d seen it in her dreams many times but not alive since that dreadful night ten years ago at Westfield Boarding School for Girls.

It was Sophie Harcourt.