The Shadow Project

by Scott Mariani

  Shit. They are tailing me.

  Don’t be ridiculous.

  He drove faster nonetheless, and the Mercedes kept pace with him. Then, just as he was getting really edgy, a straight opened up ahead and the black car flashed by him, doing at least ninety. Adam laughed shakily to himself.

  A couple of miles further on, he spotted the Mercedes in a fuel station forecourt and saw that the driver was a young woman with a small child.

  He cursed Lenny Salt for putting daft ideas in his head. What a weirdo the guy was. What an insult to their poor friends to come out with such a cockamamie story and cheapen the tragedy of their deaths like that. It was typical of the conspiracy theory mindset. Pure ego. Like anyone would even think to come after a pathetic old fart who thought he was a real scientist.

  Adam’s thoughts wandered back to Julia and Michio. The coincidence was terrible; but surely a coincidence all the same.

  Just then, his mobile ringtone chimed through the car’s sound system.

  It was the housekeeping agency. Adam frowned as he listened to the woman informing him that the new housekeeper wouldn’t be able to come until tomorrow, due to a minor road accident.

  ‘Nothing serious, I hope?’

  ‘She just had a bit of a shock,’ said the woman. ‘She’ll be right as rain in no time, and with you tomorrow afternoon.’

  Adam said he was pleased to hear that. Tomorrow afternoon was no problem. He ended the call and huffed with irritation. Wonderful. Now he’d have to start clearing up the house himself for Sabrina’s visit.

  Don’t be such a jerk, Adam. You’ll survive. He stabbed at the CD player and switched from the Tallis to a lively Vivaldi violin concerto. Michio and Julia floated up in his thoughts again, and he tried to focus on driving.

  A couple of minutes later, the phone rang again.

  ‘Dad?’

  ‘Hey, Rory.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Sorry I was held up. Be with you in about five minutes, all right?’

  ‘Don’t worry. Everything’s under control. She just got here.’

  ‘Sabrina’s there already?’

  ‘No, not Sabrina.’

  ‘Then who?’ Adam asked. Rory was like that. A separate question and answer for everything. You had to tease stuff out of him. He was at that age.

  ‘The housekeeper, stoopid,’ Rory said in an affected moronic voice. ‘Remember?’

  ‘I hate when you talk in that damn voice. And what are you going on about? The agency just called me to say she won’t be arriving until tomorrow.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rory said in a deadpan tone. ‘Maybe they changed their mind.’

  ‘How do you know it’s the housekeeper?’

  ‘Because I spoke to her just now on the security monitor. She said her name was Sue. I just buzzed her in the gate and she’s parking her van up outside. I’m watching her right now, from the window.’ A pause. ‘Where’s she from? Kinda weird accent.’

  ‘I’ll be there in exactly two minutes, all right?’

  ‘Hey, there’s a couple of guys with her,’ Rory said.

  ‘A couple of guys?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re walking towards the house.’

  ‘Rory, hold on till I get there. Don’t open the door.’

  But the kid had already hung up.

  The Saab was coming into the bends a mile and a half from the house as Adam dialled the number for the agency. ‘This is Adam O’Connor. We spoke a couple of minutes ago.’

  ‘Yes, Mr O’Connor?’ the same woman replied pleasantly.

  ‘Did I misunderstand you before? I thought you said nobody was coming out until tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Then where did this Sue come from?’ he asked, letting his irritation flood out. ‘And who are these two guys with her? You know, this kind of disorganisation doesn’t make you people look very good.’

  ‘We don’t have anyone called Sue working for us,’ the woman said archly. ‘There must be some confusion. And I must say I don’t like your tone, sir.’

  ‘Fine. Shove it up your ass. I’ll find someone else.’

  Two seconds after the call was over, Adam started to feel the first trembles in his hands. He put his foot down and the needle soared as he rounded the side of the big hill and the solitary lake house came into view. Everything looked peaceful enough. Acres of glass and the surface of the lake glittered the sunlight back at him from between the rolling green hills. A perfect picture.

  But he just knew something was terribly wrong.

  The gates sensed his car approaching and opened automatically to let him through. He roared into the gateway and up the long drive.

  There was no van parked anywhere. The shakes got worse, and his step was wobbly as he got out of the cool Saab and into the hot sun. He strode to the front door and said ‘Constantinople’ to the sensor. The lock clicked open and he ran through into the wide, airy entrance hall.

  ‘Rory?’ It was a big house, and you sometimes had to yell to communicate from one part to another. But from the instant he stepped inside, something told him the place was empty. ‘Rory?’

  No reply. No Rory, no housekeeper. He checked the living room. Empty. Strode across the hall and thundered up the stairs and threw open his son’s bedroom door.

  ‘Dad, I wish you wouldn’t burst in like that.’ That was what Rory would have said to him, turning towards the door with a scowl. But Rory wasn’t there. His chess computer and TV and Blu-ray player and drawing pad and the model spyplane he was building were all exactly where they should be. But no Rory.

  Adam was sweating cold now. Back downstairs, he called and called. Nothing. Checked the garden, the pool. Still nothing.

  Then the phone rang. He rushed over to it. ‘Professor O’Connor?’ said a voice. A man’s voice, calm and soft. The accent was English, educated.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Professor Adam O’Connor?’

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘We have your son.’

  Adam almost collapsed at the words. His hands were shaking so violently that he needed both of them to keep the phone clasped tightly to his ear.

  ‘You will follow my instructions to the letter,’ the voice continued. ‘Any attempt to contact the police, any calls or communication with anyone from this moment on, we will know and Rory will die. Any failure or hesitation to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you to do it, he will die. There will be no second warning. Do you understand?’

  Adam managed a tiny ‘Yes’.

  ‘Good. Now listen to me very carefully.’

  Chapter Six

  In the casualty department waiting room in Valognes, Jeff Dekker got two foam cups of coffee from a machine down the corridor and carried them over to the row of plastic chairs where Brooke was sitting staring into space. He handed her a cup, then slumped down next to her.

  He tried to sound upbeat. ‘Don’t look so miserable. I’m sure he’s going to be OK. We’ll know soon. They should have finished the X-ray by now.’ He took a loud slurp of coffee. ‘Jesus, this is revolting.’

  Brooke sipped hers expressionlessly, as though the finest Blue Mountain roast or liquid shit would have been all the same to her.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Jeff said again cheerfully. His plastic chair creaked as he leaned back in it, stretching his legs out in front of him.

  ‘I hope so,’ Brooke murmured, taking another sip of the coffee.

  ‘Though I have to say, he had it coming.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘And Ben hardly touched him, really.’ Brooke snorted. ‘That’s reassuring.’

  ‘Don’t be too pissed off with Ben. He was provoked.’ She paused, biting her lip. ‘You know I’m not pissed off with him. I just wish this whole thing hadn’t happened.’

  ‘You can be sure that Ben feels that way too,’ Jeff said. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘What the hell was eating Shannon anyway? Acting like that—’

 
; ‘I think this was all my fault,’ she said miserably.

  ‘Your fault?’

  She nodded. ‘Something I said.’

  ‘I didn’t hear you say a thing.’

  ‘Not then. Yesterday, in the car, on the way down.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  She sucked air through her teeth. ‘It was about Ben.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I think I just mentioned his name once too often, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re saying that Shannon’s jealous. He can tell how you feel about Ben.’

  She turned to look at him. There was a flush of red in her cheeks. ‘It’s that obvious?’

  ‘To me, and everyone else,’ Jeff said. ‘Except Ben, that is.’

  ‘Everyone except Ben,’ she echoed sadly.

  ‘And when he got you to act out the role of the principal, that was too much for matey boy. He saw it as some kind of competition.’

  She nodded. ‘Fighting over the female. Locking antlers like a couple of rutting stags.’

  ‘Except one of the stags didn’t even know what was going on.’

  ‘And it’s all because of me. Damn. I shouldn’t have agreed to it. I’m supposed to be a psychologist, for God’s sake! I’m supposed to know people’s minds.’

  ‘Why don’t you just tell Ben the way you feel about him?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘We’re all grown ups. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘That I’d lose his friendship, scare him away,’ she said. ‘I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all. You can’t force someone to love you.’

  Jeff raised his eyebrows. ‘Whoa. Did you just use the L-word?’

  Brooke closed her eyes and sank her head into her hands.

  ‘You’re actually in love with him?’

  ‘For a long time,’ she muttered, not looking up.

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’

  ‘I didn’t think it was that serious. I thought it was just – you know.’

  ‘It wasn’t always. But after a while I realised I wasn’t just flirting with him.’

  Jeff looked confused. ‘So wait a minute. You’re in love with Ben … but you’re going out with Shannon?’

  ‘Don’t go there, Jeff, all right?’

  He shrugged. ‘I think it’s great, though. You and Ben. I can see it. Really.’

  ‘Apart from the fact that he doesn’t seem to know I even exist.’

  ‘You’ve got that all wrong. He loves spending time with you. I can always see he’s looking forward to your visits. He really likes you.’

  ‘But not in that way.’

  Jeff didn’t reply.

  She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘What a situation. Here we are in the hospital because my boyfriend’s been injured and I’m more concerned about the guy who put him there. I shouldn’t even have come with Rupert. I just wanted to see Ben.’ She sighed.

  Jeff paused a moment. ‘I think Ben cares for you a lot more than you think. He just doesn’t know it yet, because that’s the kind of guy he is. But one day he’s going to wake up and see it.’

  ‘You’re not going to say anything, are you?’

  ‘Would I?’

  ‘You’d better swear to that, Jeff Dekker. One word and—’

  Brooke was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the vinyl floor of the corridor. She and Jeff turned to see the doctor walking towards them. Brooke stood up, looking at him with a mixture of expectation and worry.

  The doctor smiled. ‘No need for alarm,’ he said. ‘There’s no serious damage.’

  ‘But he must be in a lot of pain, yeah?’ Jeff asked hopefully, smiling back.

  The doctor rubbed his chin pensively, glanced down at his clipboard and spent the next minute or so gravely reeling off a long list of medical terminology.

  ‘Ben did all that to him?’ Jeff said, eyes wide.

  ‘Monsieur Shannon is also complaining about severe back pain, and although there’s nothing showing up in the X-ray, it would be prudent to keep him under observation for a few days.’

  ‘Are you saying he can start work again soon?’ Brooke asked.

  The doctor shook his head. ‘Certainly not. Complete rest will be essential for at least three weeks.’

  ‘Shit,’ Jeff said to Brooke as the doctor walked away. ‘There goes Switzerland,’ she muttered. ‘I was afraid of that.’

  ‘Guess we’d better go and break the news to Ben.’

  ‘You go. I ought to stay here with Rupert. It’s probably for the best.’

  Chapter Seven

  Adam sat on the edge of an armchair in the living room at Teach na Loch, head in hands. He reached out for the tumbler in front of him and knocked back the inch of Bushmills malt that was still in it, then grabbed the bottle and swilled some more into it. His head was spinning with shock, the taste of vomit still on his lips from when he’d thrown up earlier on. He’d thought he was never going to stop.

  Now he just felt numb. It was unreal. Lenny Salt had been right. The old weirdo hadn’t imagined it after all.

  The kidnappers’ instructions had been simple. He was to get all his Kammler material together and get on a flight to Graz. He checked the atlas: it was in Austria, near the Hungarian border. They’d given him the name of a hotel in the city, where a reservation had been made for him, and he was to check in there no later than 10 p.m., local time, the following evening. The orders were to sit in his room, speak to no one, and wait to be contacted.

  Adam suddenly felt hot tears welling up out of his eyes. He thought of Rory. What were they doing to him? Where was he? Would he ever see him again? He could imagine the look of terror on the boy’s face when they took him, could hear his screams of protest.

  If only Salt hadn’t turned up at the presentation. I’d have been here. I could have done something.

  A thought suddenly crossed his mind. Had Salt had something to do with it? Had he been deliberately planted there to delay him?

  He stood up from the armchair, unsteady on his feet. Walked over to the bookcase across the room and picked up the framed black and white photo of Rory. Sabrina had taken that one, just after he’d turned twelve. They’d gone to London for a weekend and visited her photography studio there. It was such a beautiful shot of the kid. He was smiling and looked so happy in it. Sabrina had a giant blow-up of the same picture on her studio wall. Adam knew his younger sister doted on her nephew – he was the only real reason they stayed in touch.

  Sabrina. What was he going to tell her when she got here? Adam glanced at his watch and winced. Any time now. His hand was trembling as he replaced the picture frame on the bookcase. Another acid lurch in his throat, and he turned and stumbled towards the downstairs bathroom.

  He was bent over the toilet bowl, retching vomit and whiskey, when a smooth female electronic voice announced through the hidden speakers: ‘You have a visitor.’

  Sabrina Connor paid the taxi driver, got her bags from the back and watched as the car turned and disappeared out of the gates. She looked up at the house, shielded her eyes from the bright afternoon sunshine, and smiled. She was looking forward to this break. Seven whole days away from London, the hustle and humidity and bad air, her capricious celebrity clients. Perfect. And it was great to be able to spend some time with Rory – she hadn’t seen him since Christmas. This time she might actually beat the little smartass at chess.

  The door opened. Adam stepped out to greet her. When he came up and hugged her, it was more tightly than usual. She could smell the sharp tang of mouthwash on him, and when she broke the embrace and looked up at her elder brother, she could see his eyes were a little pink.

  ‘You changed your hair again,’ he said.

  She ran her fingers through the spiky red highlights. ‘I like it like this. You OK? You look a little wired.’

  ‘I’m fine. Just working hard.’ He smiled weakly. ‘Come inside. It’s good to see you. Want a drink?�
�� He picked up her bags and ushered her inside.

  ‘Coffee would be great. Oh, here. I got you something.’ She unzipped one of her bags and took out a little package. ‘Happy birthday. Forty-five.’

  He took it. ‘Forty-six. And it was nearly two months ago.’

  ‘What a close-knit little family we are. Well, aren’t you going to open it?’

  He tore the wrapper. ‘Handkerchiefs.’

  ‘Irish linen,’ she said. ‘Had to scour London for them. I got them embroidered, too, see? Adam O’Connor.’ She exaggerated the ‘O’.

  ‘I know you think it’s stupid, me changing my name. But it’s important to me. It’s heritage.’

  She shrugged. ‘Do what you want. Fine by me.’

  ‘Nice hankies.’

  ‘Kind of a lame present, huh?’

  ‘No, really. I like them.’

  Sabrina glanced around. ‘Where’s Rory?’

  ‘Tennis camp,’ he replied instantly.

  ‘Tennis camp? You’re kidding me, right?’

  Adam shook his head. ‘Nope. Tennis camp.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I drove him up there yesterday.’

  ‘Where?’

  He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘Up in Donegal.’

  ‘They even have things like tennis camp in this place?’

  ‘Whatever they call it. Activity holiday, something like that. Why, you think we’re all bog paddies living in mud huts out here?’

  ‘Oh, give it a rest with the whole Irish thing, Adam.’

  ‘Anyway, so he’s at tennis camp.’

  She shrugged. ‘Fine. It’s just I thought he hated sports.’

  Adam headed for the kitchen to put some coffee on. ‘You know what kids are like. One of his friends plays and so he wanted to have a go. It’ll do him good. Get him away from that damn chess computer of his.’

  ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘Couple of weeks.’

  Sabrina made a face. ‘Jesus, Adam. You didn’t think to tell me about any of this before? I was really looking forward to seeing him, you know.’

  He sighed. ‘Look, the truth is that I totally forgot. I was meaning to call you about it ages ago. It just slipped my mind. I’m sorry.’

  ‘I spoke to him on the phone not long ago, and he never said a word about going to any tennis camp.’