‘I’m sorry, Miss … Fox, did you say your name was?’ Orlando’s father said with the offhand snub perfected by the ultra-rich towards people who are clearly not their social equal. ‘But as our housekeeper, Jasna, explained to you, I’m afraid our daughter is not here at present. And as for your … suggestion that you will go to the police, I’ve already spoken to their chief today – he’s a friend of the family – regarding the Eisenbergs’ tragic loss. So, you see, I really can’t help you.’
For ‘can’t’, I read ‘won’t’. In big letters.
Orlando’s family didn’t so much have a house as an estate. A sprawling place with manicured lawns and clumps of trees that were too artistically grouped to possibly be natural.
The house was weathered red-brick, with gothic pointed arches, turrets, and an intricate series of what looked like blocked-up windows decorating the front facade. I dredged my distant education and recalled it was called something like ‘blind arcading’. The whole place was traditional and imposing, and must have cost more in window cleaning and gardening bills than I earned in a year.
I got my first glimpse of all this from the wrought iron gateway at the end of a long drive when I arrived. I pressed the intercom and waited, staring up into the lens of the CCTV camera, which was supposed to be hidden in the beak of a stone griffin.
It was just after eight in the morning. Two hours since the kidnappers’ call. Twenty-two since Dina had been taken.
When the intercom buzzed, I explained I was a friend of Dina’s, here to see Orlando. There was a long pause, then a woman’s voice said, ‘She not here. She go away.’
‘In that case, I’d like to speak to her parents.’
‘They busy. You go now.’ The accent was eastern European of some description, although it was difficult to be more accurate through the distortion of the tinny speaker. I was suddenly reminded of the kidnapper’s mechanical voice.
‘No, I not go now,’ I said with pleasant precision. ‘Tell them Dina has been kidnapped, and I need to speak with them before I go to the police, OK? Police, cops, FBI – they’ll all be down here, asking questions. You understand me?’
There was a long pause. So long, in fact, that I feared the woman had simply gone away herself and left me to stew with my veiled threats. But a minute or so later the gates began to swing open and I nosed the Navigator through.
There was a motor court around the side of the house, where there was undoubtedly also a tradesman’s entrance. I parked at a jaunty angle on the stone setts outside the front door, just for badness.
Now, sitting in one of the coldly unwelcoming drawing rooms, I assumed I was supposed to be so overcome at the orchestrated grandeur on display I would Know My Place.
I offered Orlando’s father a lazy smile. ‘As I mentioned to Jasna when she let me in, I’m just trying to ensure Dina’s safe return – that’s my only concern. Anything else is a matter for the police. You said you’d already spoken to them, but I can assure you they’ll be back. And the FBI. Kidnapping is a federal crime, after all.’ I waited a beat for that to sink in, then said, ‘I need to know if anyone had access to Orlando’s cellphone yesterday.’
‘Of course not,’ he said, brusque.
I crossed my legs, draped an arm along the back of the brocade sofa they’d steered me towards. ‘You seem very certain, considering your daughter is apparently not staying here with you at the moment?’
He bridled at that, a tall tanned figure I recalled from the charity auction, who had allowed his hair to grey a little around the temples, but drew the line at actually looking his age. He was wearing an open-necked shirt with a pale-pink sweater draped around his shoulders, and loafers with no socks. His face showed distinct signs of regular Botox injections, which made his micro-expressions difficult to read. Nevertheless, gentle provocation always seems to get people to reveal themselves.
‘Look, Miss Fox, I fail to see what business this is of yours, but Orlando left here only yesterday morning for one of our other properties, and she accidentally left her cell behind. It’s on the desk in my study. What can that possibly—’
‘Orlando’s cell number was used to lure Dina away from her close-protection officer, and into a successful kidnap,’ I said, piling over his bluster, shutting him down completely. ‘Her bodyguard was shot trying to prevent her abduction. He’s still critical. You know what happened to Torquil Eisenberg, only a few days ago. If your daughter knows anything that might save Dina’s life, we need to know.’
‘Of course she doesn’t know anything!’ he snapped, and though his face betrayed nothing, his voice told another story. Stress, guilt, and just an underlying trace of anger. But not, interestingly enough, directed at me. Not all of it, anyway.
As if realising how much he’d inadvertently given away, he sighed, aimed for a more reasonable tone. ‘Look, Miss Fox, I can appreciate your concern, but Orlando’s cellphone hasn’t been outside this house, and my daughter is not available. She’s in shock about the death of the Eisenberg boy, of course she is. Orlando’s a sensitive girl. I will not have her disturbed.’
There was going to be no moving him. Even the prospect of FBI involvement had not shifted him. But he was rattled, and it showed.
My turn to sigh, but quietly, under my breath. Always best to leave of your own volition before you were thrown out. I got to my feet, dug in my jacket pocket for a business card.
‘If you won’t put me in touch with your daughter direct, then at least please tell her I’d like to talk to her – urgently,’ I said, handing him the card. He took it by the edges, as if it were dirty. ‘The office number is on there. It’s manned twenty-four hours a day.’
‘Of course,’ he said, his relief plain. He put the card down on the side table and rose to shake my hand, going for the elbow clasp with his left, to show what a sincere kind of guy he was. ‘I hope Dina is returned safely, I really do.’
He showed me out into the tiled hallway, where Jasna reappeared instantly to shepherd me to the door. I wondered how much stick she was going to take for letting me through it in the first place.
The business card I’d given him remained on the side table, and I would have taken bets that’s where it would stay until the cleaning staff swept it away.
I still wasn’t quite sure who’d come out of the encounter ahead as I reached the end of the long straight driveway, and the gates drew slowly open. It was only as I reached them and pulled through that I found another car waiting, pulled up on the other side of the road.
I stopped to catch the number on the front plate, and as I did so the driver climbed out and waved in greeting. I dropped the Navigator’s window and watched him stride across the road towards me.
‘Hey, Charlie,’ he called when he was halfway there. ‘You’re looking good.’
‘Hi, Hunt. If you’re here to see Orlando, you’re out of luck. According to her folks, she’s gone away.’
To my disappointment, Hunt did not fall into my cunning plan and reveal Orlando’s present whereabouts. Instead, he pulled a wry face.
‘I’ve been getting the runaround from her folks, too,’ he said. ‘I was hoping that by hanging around here I might spot her coming back.’ He looked a little shamefaced as he said it, like he was embarrassed to be caught mooning over a girl. ‘I don’t suppose they told you where she is?’
I shook my head.
Hunt was in jeans and a sports jacket, and looked a lot younger, dressed like that, than Orlando’s father had managed. ‘I’m worried about her,’ he admitted. ‘She took Tor’s death rather hard. I’m not surprised her parents are trying to protect her from the press and stuff like that.’
I looked at him, then said dryly. ‘Yeah, I suppose they might have a bit of a field day when they find out she fixed her own kidnapping.’
Hunt stared at me for a moment, then gave a crooked grin. ‘Ah, so you know about that, do you?’ he said. ‘I thought you’d figure it out eventually.’