twenty-six

While Ruth parked the car and called in a progress report to Aston, Gina and Vaslik made their way inside. She caught up with them at the emergency reception, where they were directed to a small waiting area close to where Nancy was being assessed. A nurse came and spoke briefly to Gina to ask how long Nancy had been underwater and what medications she was on, then disappeared after telling them that they would be kept informed.

Ruth called Aston again and asked for their consultant to be informed, so that he could find out what was going on.

“This is going to blow their minds,” she told the others. “It’s way too public for the board’s liking.” Unlike some crisis management companies, the Cruxys board of directors had always operated in the background, avoiding publicity and shunning any kind of limelight. The motivation was simple: if their staff and operatives became public material, they could no longer guarantee being able to work in secret. And for most of their clients, that would make them a danger, as known faces drew the media like moths to a flame.

When the consultant bustled in, resplendent in a grey suit and pocket handkerchief, he spoke briefly to Gina before disappearing in search of an authority figure he could bully. He returned a few minutes later with good news.

“She’s responding to treatment,” he assured them. “She has bruising to the back of her head where she hit the bath, but no obvious signs of concussion. She remembers feeling dizzy and was probably overcome by running the bath too hot.”

“So she’ll be all right?” Ruth pressed him. “Can we take her home?”

The look he gave her was larded with irritation. He lowered his voice as a nurse hurried by. “Miss Gonzales, I do have an idea of what Mrs. Hardman is going through. She’s under immense stress and the continued pressure of not knowing what has happened to her daughter is weighing heavily on her mind. I gather there was some kind of incident earlier today—she mentioned something about a woman caller and a man following her in the street. She felt threatened. Is it true?”

“Yes, we think so.” Ruth swore silently. In spite of her fragile condition, Nancy must have picked up on the possible snatch team near the supermarket and blabbed to the consultant. Coupled with the mysterious Clarisse turning up, it was no wonder she was freaking out. She wondered how many others had heard. “You know we can’t talk about it,” she said firmly. The doctor might be on a retainer with Cruxys, but that didn’t mean he could be party to everything that was going on. “There are things happening in her life, yes; but she’s also seeing shadows where there are none. We all are,” she added for good measure.

He appeared somewhat mollified. “Very well. I’ll take your word for it. I’ve asked for her to be kept in overnight so that more tests can be carried out in the morning. All being well, you can take her home then. But only if they pass her as fit enough.”

“Can we see her?” asked Gina. When he looked doubtful, she added, “It might make her feel safer if she saw us all here.”

His mouth gave a curl. “Of course. But only for a few minutes—and I suggest you don’t allow the staff to know what’s going on. These places are notoriously leaky with information; if there’s a sniff of what she’s going through the press and police will be around here in droves.”

After speaking briefly to a drowsy Nancy and assuring her that she was safe and that they were watching over her, Ruth and Vaslik left Gina on watch and returned to the house to get her some fresh clothing for the morning. The journey gave Ruth a chance to ask Vaslik a question.

“Why are you armed, Slik? Bit early in the assignment, isn’t it?”

“It’s a habit I find tough to break,” he answered briefly. “Aren’t you?”

“No. Believe it or not, we don’t all carry guns and nor are we routinely allowed to.”

“But you could if you wanted.”

“I suppose so. But we’d be on our own if we got caught.” She looked at him. “They did explain that to you, didn’t they—that the gun laws here are a tiny bit tougher than in the US?”

“Sure, they told me. I’ll keep it under wraps, I promise.”

“Good. Because if you shoot anybody, I won’t be able to protect you—and nor will Cruxys.” She was tempted to enquire where he’d got the weapon but knew she’d probably receive the same vague answer Gina had given.

She pulled onto the kerb in front of the house and killed the engine. She wanted to ask about the missing napkin, but decided against it. Now was not the time. Instead, she stepped out of the car and led the way across the drive and opened the front door.

Once inside, they both froze.

Something was different.

Vaslik pushed past Ruth, drawing his gun and listening. He motioned for her to check the living room while he did the same upstairs. This was the most hazardous task in house clearance, as Ruth knew. Going up open stairs towards a potential threat left the upper body wide open and vulnerable; you had to move fast but quietly as you cleared the top steps, while checking both ways for a potential assailant. Along with all the doors to use as cover, it gave any intruder the advantage.

On the other hand, she reminded herself, Slik had a weapon and had probably done this kind of thing many times before.

She heard his footsteps moving lightly up the treads as she moved through to the living room. Empty. Next was the kitchen, also bare save for the flickering of the CCTV monitors covering the front, sides and rear. Nothing of interest there.

She moved across the hallway to the study. The door was wide open. She couldn’t recall if that was how it had been left, but stepped inside and listened.

Nothing.

She stepped back into the hallway and heard movement above her. “Slik?”

He was coming down the stairs, tucking this gun away and shaking his head. “Nobody home but us bears.”

“But there has been, right? Or am I imagining things?”

He shook his head. “If you are, so am I.” They had both sensed it the moment they stepped through the front door: somebody had been inside the house while they had been at the hospital. It wasn’t a specific smell, nor were there any visual signs; but they were experienced enough to have picked up the signals as surely as if the visitor had left a calling card on the hall table. Yet it didn’t appear that anything had been disturbed or stolen.

So why?

Vaslik seemed to have one answer. He raised a hand to warn Ruth to stay still, then knelt by the study door and scrubbed at a minute trace of white powder on the carpet against the skirting board. He ran his fingers up the wall immediately above it, to a framed print of a desert scene. When he carefully pulled the frame away from the wall, Ruth saw a slim biscuit the size of a ten pence piece stuck to the back.

Vaslik turned to her and made a circular motion with his finger at the veiling and walls, then a zipping motion across his mouth and tapped his ear.

Ruth stared. She didn’t want to believe it, but he was right.

He was talking about bugs.

Somebody had been inside and placed listening devices inside the house.

It took Vaslik an hour to scour the building, taking great care not to disturb anything until he was certain. One by one he discovered four similar devices. They were small, slim and easily concealed; one behind a photo frame in the living room, another in the kitchen above a cupboard, a third in the study close to the filing cabinet and one in Nancy’s room.

He took them down and wrapped them carefully in a towel, and placed the bundle in the airing cupboard. Then he beckoned Ruth into the kitchen and turned on the kettle.

“It won’t be all of them,” he warned her quietly, once the kettle was making a satisfactory level of noise to mask conversation. “All I got was the ones they wanted us to find. There will be others but much better concealed.”

“Won’t they get suspicious when they don’t hear us talking?”

“They’ll hear plenty—but only what we want them to hear.”

“Still, they’ll know you found some of the bugs.”

“Of course. But they’ll keep listening because that’s the way the game is played.”

“Game?” She gave him a cynical look. “Is that what this is?”

“Sure. Spies spying on spies; it’s the same the world over. You trick the opposition into thinking they know what you’re doing, but you always have a plan B.”

“And their plan B is to have more bugs that we don’t know about.”

“That’s right—unless we bring in some electronic counter-measures and sweep the house. Then everybody’s back to square one and it starts all over.”

“Jesus, what a waste of time. Did you recognise the equipment?”

“You mean where it’s from?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not really my scene. Electronic surveillance is a huge business; there are many different devices made and sold all over the world. I know the FBI and Secret Service use bugs from a variety of sources, as do your own intelligence agencies here, probably. And nobody uses bugs that can be traced back home, anyway; it’s too big a giveaway.”

Ruth didn’t say anything. This whole affair was taking on a much bigger significance than a simple kidnapping—if a kidnapping could ever be referred to as simple. From the snatch of a small child, it seemed to have blossomed into something more and more complex, with ever more questions and fewer answers.

“I wish I knew what the hell was going on here,” she muttered. “This thing’s beginning to drive me nuts.”