Huss, under the threat of the Presa and the enormous bulk of Frank Muller, found herself bound to the treatment table. While they had been securing her they kept up a conversation in German of which Huss understood nothing at all. What she did understand, chillingly, was their lack of concern. It was obvious that they felt perfectly capable of being able to deal with her. The Velcro restraints that were usually used to hold the guests in position while their chakras were realigned, healing stones balanced on healing nodes, and to keep them passive during ayahuasca shamanic healing ceremonies so they didn’t trip over and hurt themselves while tripping on hallucinogens or whatever modish mumbo-jumbo was flavour of the month, held her firm. Adams brutally slapped a piece of gaffer tape over her mouth.
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Georgie. Muller and the dog halted. Neither he, nor the dog, spoke English but they both understood what was a command, and there was no doubt as to who was in charge. She leaned over Huss and quickly, professionally, patted her down. Then upended her handbag and took Huss’s mobile phone and car keys from the assorted things in there.
She turned the phone off, pocketed the keys and swept everything else back into the bag.
She and Muller disappeared up the stairs.
Adams halted at the top and turned and looked down at Huss on the table. ‘I’ll be back down to deal with you later,’ she said, ‘once I’ve moved your car.’ Then she turned and left Huss to her thoughts.
I’m going to die, I’m going to die, Please God, don’t let me die.
To avoid panic she focused on what she now knew.
No more speculation.
Arzu.
The cryosauna was in full view. The mystery of Arzu’s hiding place was a mystery no more. It might well have been Arzu’s thumbprint that had opened the keypad but that hadn’t been Arzu’s decision. Arzu’s hand and forearm had been detached from his body. They were sitting now in a tray, on a shelf on the other side of the room, defrosting. So, Arzu hadn’t killed Hübler. It had to be Schneider. Or the other two men, but it would have been Schneider’s decision. She wondered why. Audio memories of conversations, Hanlon’s face frowning as she had said, ‘I’m not even sure what her relationship with Schneider was, come to think of it. I thought they were having an affair…’
And all that talk of ‘loyalty’. Was it a crime passionel?
Or had he done it to boost his popularity ratings?
Hübler.
Obviously not killed by Al-Akhdaar. For whatever reason, the Germans had done it, obviously aided by Georgie Adams. It very much looked, she thought, as if Eleuthera had been behind all the UK killings, Elsa and Kettering too.
Hinds.
Well, she finally believed that he was, as he claimed, a totally innocent dupe in all of this. That what he had said was true. He was now her only hope of salvation but, of course, as far as he was concerned the Germans were innocent and he would be thinking that right now protection officers would be quietly taking their positions up in the lodge.
Her only hope was Hinds.
Maybe he would get bored waiting for her and come and look for her. It was a slim hope, there was a warrant out for his arrest, after all, and he would be understandably nervous about encountering armed policemen, but it was a hope.
Or he’d meet Adams as she came to move the car and intervene. Would he have the guts to confront her, would he chicken out? If he did tackle her, would he win? Hinds was tough, but she was beginning to suspect that Adams was unstoppable.
She was like Hanlon, serenely self-confident, floating in a bubble of self-belief. An opinion bolstered by those around her. But Hinds was still a possible source of salvation. When he saw Adams surely he would suspect something had gone wrong, or would he think that to act might be to disrupt
Huss’s plans? Was he even still there?
He was all she had.
Apart from Hanlon. Where was she right now? In London probably.
Huss lay and looked at the ceiling. Hopeless.