Chapter 63

ANOTHER TEXT ARRIVED on Allegra’s phone. I know what you found. Let’s talk about it. She shuddered and passed it to Imogen, who gasped.

‘This is really frightening!’ she said, her voice tremulous. ‘I want to be with Alex.’ She looked upset. ‘I can’t believe I’m not with him.’

‘He’ll be perfectly safe,’ Allegra said, trying to soothe her.

‘I want him with me,’ Imogen cried, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I’m going to get him! He’ll be safer here. There are hundreds of heavies to look out for us. Besides, he’ll wake up for a feed soon.’

They were still at Mitch’s house, in one of the black-and-white sitting rooms, huddled together on a leather sofa. He’d left half an hour previously to go to the airport. In his study, his associates were on phones and computers, following up leads and now working over everything there was to find out about Adam Hutton or Harcourt, whoever he was. Mitch had told them to make themselves at home, to sleep if they wanted, but they were both feeling too wired for that.

‘Don’t be silly, I’m sure he’s fine,’ Allegra said, trying to soothe her friend, but Imogen was too fraught.

‘I’ll take your car,’ she said, looking for her coat. ‘I can be there and back in twenty minutes.’

‘No, I’ll go,’ Allegra said. ‘You’re too wound up. I’ll go and get Alex. You wait here.’

Imogen sank down into an armchair. ‘OK,’ she said gratefully. ‘I just want to be with him.’

‘Of course you do. I won’t be long.’

Allegra slipped out of the front door and headed for her car.

Imogen curled up on the white leather sofa, feeling much happier. Now that Allegra was fetching Alex, she could begin to relax. She couldn’t wait to see him.

It was late – two o’clock in the morning. Time had flown since she got that phone call from Allegra telling her to get herself and the baby ready to leave. It had been a struggle to grasp all the links in the chain and see how they fitted together. Adam had seemed so nice and normal, so completely professional and utterly dedicated to Allegra: could he really be obsessed with seeking some kind of revenge? She couldn’t believe he was involved in Romily’s kidnap, but what he had in mind for Allegra was a different matter.

She shuddered. They might have known that things they’d considered long buried and forgotten would not stay that way forever.

And now here she was in a house in Chelsea, all alone except for some strange men who looked like they were on intimate terms with the shadowy world of crime and violence.

Mitch was no longer a poor chef but a rich man with a string of restaurants to his name – and now the owner, with Romily, of Colette’s, Oscar’s and Astor House. God alone knew what that would mean for Allegra’s future. Her career had been wiped out at a stroke.

And all this time, he’d still been with Romily! That story she had told Imogen at Lake Como had been true – but only up to a point. Someone – Allegra perhaps, the de Lisles definitely – had tried to break up the marriage and appeared to have succeeded. And yet all along they had simply hidden their alliance, so that their plan for revenge could be undertaken in secret.

Imogen shifted on the leather sofa. She recalled Romily, her eyes candid, her expression sincere, telling her that her marriage was over and appearing heartbroken. That had been a lie. Her whole social gadfly routine, too, had been an act, so that she could hide her real role as an empire builder in partnership with Mitch. She must have been kept very busy, in the quiet beauty of Lake Como, acquiring that portfolio of international businesses, running things from behind the scenes.

An image popped into Imogen’s mind. She and Romily were on the boat, skimming the surface of the water, on their way to Como. She was happy, Romily seemed happy – it had been a marvellous moment. But something was nagging her. There was someone else in the picture, someone she needed to remember … Oh, yes, that was right. Marco … Romily’s handsome young boatman.

Her eyes flew open. I saw Marco in Colette’s! It was him, I know it was. Gennaro’s nephew who wants to be a DJ … I knew he looked familiar. She gasped as a thought occurred to her. Perhaps he knows something. I should tell Allegra, we could find him and ask him.

She looked at her watch. It was just after two in the morning. Colette’s was still open. Gennaro would be there and would know where Marco could be found. She must go there right away.

She jumped up, invigorated by the surge of adrenaline that rushed through her veins. Allegra would be back in about twenty minutes, but that might mean it was too late to get to Colette’s in time to catch Gennaro.

She ran to Mitch’s study and flung open the door. The buzz of low conversation in the room stopped abruptly and the men inside turned to look at her, instantly alert in case she proved a threat to them. ‘I need someone to drive me to Mayfair!’ she said breathlessly. ‘Right now!’

It took some persuading to find a volunteer prepared to leave the post that Mitch had assigned to him, but when Imogen said desperately that it might be the key to finding Romily, one of the men had stood up and said, ‘I’ll take you.’

A few minutes later they were in his standard-issue black Audi, pulling out of the Chelsea street and heading towards Mayfair.

‘My name’s Malik,’ he explained as they flew through the near-deserted streets.

‘Are you Mitch’s assistant?’ Imogen asked.

He grinned, showing a row of perfect teeth. ‘Yeah. Kind of. I studied law at Harvard, then went to Stanford and got myself a business degree. Now I’m Mitch’s right-hand man.’ His smile faded and he shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen him so shaken up as he is right now. When we found out his girl had been snatched … it’s been all hands on deck ever since.’ He stole a quick glance at her before turning his gaze back to the road. ‘If you’ve got the breakthrough, I’m the guy who wants to be in on it. It would be the greatest thing in the world if I could help the boss.’

‘I hope I’m right,’ Imogen said, pulling out her mobile. She would text Allegra and let her know where she was going. No point in ringing – it would be sod’s law that the phone would go off just when she was picking up the sleeping Alex. Have gone to Colette’s to see Gennaro. Think he might have a clue re Rom. Look after Alex and see you back at Mitch’s house. X She pressed Send and went back to watching the city as they steered through the back streets towards Colette’s.

*

Allegra opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible. The room inside was dark, the only sound the deep breathing of Julie. She had not needed to wake the housekeeper this time, having picked up a spare key on her way out.

She wedged the door open so that light from the hall illuminated the bedroom enough for her to see what she was doing. Inside, Alex was fast asleep on the bed; he hadn’t moved since they’d laid him there, still on his back and cosy inside his sleeping bag. His mouth was slightly open, his rosebud lips parted, and his long fair lashes curled down on to his plump cheeks. She couldn’t help smiling at the sight of him. He’s so delicious.

She gathered his things together, then picked him up and sat him in his car seat. His head lolled a little but he stayed asleep as she strapped him in. She looked over at Julie, who was in the other bed and still undisturbed. Allegra went over and shook her gently. The housekeeper opened her eyes.

‘Julie,’ she whispered, ‘I’m taking Alex, OK?’

‘Mmm, all right,’ muttered Julie, and rolled over straight back to sleep.

Allegra put the handles of the bag over one arm and picked up the car seat in the other. She went carefully down to the front door, trying not to jerk the seat. At the door, she put down the bag and turned the latch. Immediately it had gone back into the lock, the door was pushed open from the other side and she was sent staggering backwards, trying to regain her balance.

‘Allegra, I found you!’ Adam panted. ‘God, at last.’ He stared at her, his brown eyes frantic and his body tense.

She gasped, terrified. Her first instinct was to push the car seat behind her so that Alex couldn’t be seen but it was far too big and she fumbled awkwardly with it. ‘Adam … what the hell are you doing frightening me like this?’ she demanded angrily, trying to take control.

‘You haven’t replied to my messages,’ he said, his breath still short. ‘It’s driving me mad. I have to talk to you!’

He was wearing the same suit he’d had on when she’d left him at Astor House the previous morning. God, it feels like a lifetime ago. He looked scruffy and stubbly, though, a long way from his usual immaculate appearance.

‘What messages?’ she bluffed. ‘I’ve lost my phone.’

An agonised look passed over his face and he closed his eyes for a moment. He took in a shuddering breath and said, ‘No, you haven’t. Listen, whatever you’re thinking … you’re wrong.’

She blinked hard, trying to take in what he was saying. He looked so unlike her usual calm, dependable, loving Adam that it was like seeing a stranger. He seemed wound as tight as a spring, trembling and frightened. Managing to find her voice, she said, ‘How did you know I was here?’

He smiled, almost sadly. ‘You didn’t think I knew about this place, did you? But I know everything about you. I’ve known for ages that the McCorquodales use this place as their London base, even if you don’t. It was an obvious place for you to come once it was clear you weren’t in a hurry to go home.’

‘So you’ve been watching the house?’

He nodded. ‘For about an hour now.’

‘Why?’ Her mask of cool fell away for a moment and she stared at him with beseeching eyes. ‘Adam – why? Why all of this? You know what I found!’

‘Yes.’ He looked away, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. Then he gazed at her imploringly. ‘That’s why we need to talk. Please, Allegra, let me explain!’

She struggled with herself. She was desperate to know the truth, but this new Adam, shaking and wild-eyed, frightened her and she felt a strong urge to get away from him. And she still had Alex to think of … ‘No, no. I have to go. I’ve got to be somewhere.’ She made to push past him towards the front door, but he put one hand on her shoulder and stopped her with surprising strength. She gasped and looked up at him. ‘Let me go, Adam.’

‘No,’ he said, his voice stronger. ‘I can’t let you go. I have to talk to you first. I have to tell you about Sophie.’

Malik brought the car to a stop outside Colette’s and Imogen was out before Billy the doorman could get to the door.

‘I’ll park just up there,’ said Malik, pointing to the top of the square.

‘OK.’ Imogen turned to the doorman. ‘Billy, let Malik in, please. I’ll tell Paul downstairs.’

The club was in party mode, though members and their guests were beginning to stumble out of the bar and up to the cool evening air, to catch one of the line of taxis waiting to pick up lucrative fares or to meet their drivers in the many Rolls Royces, Bentleys and Mercedes parked around the square.

Paul the greeter, who also made sure that anyone who tried to enter the club was either a member or a guest, looked surprised to see Imogen appear at that time of night.

‘Paul, someone is with me, his name is Malik. Please let him in when he comes down.’

‘Yes, madam.’ Paul looked unruffled – a speciality of any member of Colette’s staff.

‘Is Gennaro here?’

‘I’m not sure, madam. I think he said he might leave early tonight.’

‘Oh, no,’ Imogen gasped, and headed off down the corridor towards the bar and restaurant. She glanced around the bar, where some fat, rich old men were being amused by some very young and beautiful girls, but Gennaro wasn’t there, so she went into the restaurant. Only a few tables were occupied now by diners finishing their meals and the room was resonating with music from the dance floor where about twenty people were bobbing and dancing. It was dark, the only light coming from the lamps on the tables and the lights on the dance floor. It was hard to see who was present.

She grabbed one of the waiters. ‘Where’s Gennaro?’ she demanded.

He shrugged. ‘Haven’t seen him.’

‘Fuck!’ she swore. The waiter raised his eyebrows and hurried off.

Malik appeared beside her. ‘Success?’

She shook her head. ‘Come on, this way.’ She went to the back of the club where the wine was stored. Flinging open the door, she almost screamed with relief when Gennaro turned round from inspecting a crate full of empty bottles.

‘Yes?’ He came towards her, frowning. ‘Is something wrong?’ He looked suspiciously at Malik.

‘Don’t worry about him, he’s a friend. It’s about your nephew … Marco.’

Gennaro looked grim. ‘Oh. Marco. I knew he was in trouble. He told me he was mixed up in something and wanted to get out of it. What’s the boy done?’

‘I don’t know but I think he might be able to help us. We need to talk to him.’

‘Is it very serious?’ Worry clouded the manager’s face.

‘I just don’t know, Gennaro, and I can’t tell you any more right now.’ Imogen tried to control the nervousness and urgency in her voice. ‘Where is he? Please tell me.’

Gennaro looked past her towards the restaurant. ‘He’s through there, in the DJ’s box. He’s doing the music tonight. I promised that he could.’

Imogen and Malik turned to stare at each other, then rushed back to the dance floor as fast as they could.