Blake’s watch was edging its way to two o’clock in the afternoon when Carla Sabatini entered the arrivals hall of Heathrow, Terminal 2. The flight from Rome had been full, but Blake quickly picked her out from the cascade of people spilling from the exit doors. He felt his pulse quicken as he cut a line through the crowd towards her. Moments later their eyes met. His first instinct was to open his arms to her, but he hesitated, his brain jammed up with conflicting memories. He stopped and stiffened.
The last time he had been with Carla, they had got caught up in a chilling treasure hunt for a religious relic buried under St Paul’s Cathedral. The hunt ended in a brutal shootout in a secret chamber deep beneath the cathedral’s iconic dome. Cornered by ruthless hitmen, Blake and Sabatini would have lost their lives if it had not been for the timely appearance of Mary, a mysterious homeless woman, and her constant companion, a black dog. As Carla walked towards him, his mind shot back to that day and his heart started thumping.
Sabatini was an attractive Mediterranean-looking woman in her mid-thirties. She was dressed in expensive dark jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and a light grey cashmere shawl hung across her shoulders. Her face was lined with worry. She looked tired, but her eyes still portrayed the sharp intelligence that Blake remembered.
The awkward moment disappeared at the sound of Carla’s voice saying his name. ‘Vincent,’ she said, with tears misting her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry about your father.’ Blake moved closer, and as he went to hug her, she dropped her bags to the floor. He could feel her trembling in his arms as people rushed by on either side of them. Slowly she relaxed against him, sinking her head into his shoulder. He rocked her gently and then, after a moment, they separated.
Carla wiped away the smeared tears on her face. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘The least I can do,’ he replied with a kindly, concerned smile. ‘Let me take these.’ Blake reached down and picked up Carla’s bags. ‘I’ve booked you into a hotel in town. Tomorrow, once you feel up to it, I’ll drive you over to see your father.’
‘Vincent, I want to do it now,’ said Carla, looking up to him, her eyes glazed with moisture. ‘I want to get this over with as soon as possible.’
Blake looked at Carla, his expression edged with surprise.
‘Carla, I tried to explain on the phone.’ Blake cleared his throat and locked eyes with Carla. ‘Your father was badly beaten. You’ve got to prepare yourself for the identification.’ He paused. ‘Look, you’ve had some horrible news. Don’t you want to take some—’
‘Time?’ answered Carla as she tightened her shawl around her shoulders. ‘I don’t need any more time. I haven’t seen my father in fifteen years.’