by Zoe Sharp
‘It can.’ Parker stilled, eyes narrowing. He knew as well as I did that only around one in ten kidnappings were ever reported, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. ‘You should be aware that there has been considerable success in apprehending kidnappers inside the United States – far better than in many other countries around the world,’ he said flatly. ‘I would strongly advise full cooperation with local and federal law enforcement agencies.’
Caroline Willner inclined her head, almost graceful. ‘What I feel about the matter is irrelevant at this point, Mr Armstrong. My family is personally unaffected.’ She aimed a level stare. ‘I should very much like that state of affairs to continue.’
‘Nevertheless, a number of young people have been kidnapped – young people of extremely wealthy parents with homes on Long Island – over the past year,’ Parker pointed out. ‘Keeping it under wraps can only make things worse.’
‘Nobody likes admitting that they gave in to extortion,’ I agreed. ‘And if the victims were not precious, they would not have been taken.’
Caroline Willner did not appreciate being ganged up on. Her spine stiffened. ‘In the kind of social circles in which I move, involving the authorities would generate bad publicity that is something to be avoided at all costs.’ She glanced at me again, something calculating in her face now. ‘If word of this had gotten out, it would be open season.’
‘There have been – what? Three so far, I believe you said?’ I asked dryly. ‘The first of which was the middle of last summer and the last was only a few months ago. I rather think it already is.’
‘I am not saying I condone the decision of the people involved to handle things without the intervention of the authorities, Ms Fox, only that I can understand the reasons behind it.’ Faint colour lit her cheekbones. ‘That is why I am taking these steps to avoid the same fate befalling my daughter.’
‘Of course,’ Parker said. ‘The final decision in such an eventuality would be yours to take.’
She straightened, regal, her voice remote as if this was a business deal in which she only had marginal interest. ‘So, do we have an agreement?’
Parker glanced across at me, but I shook my head. ‘That’s up to your daughter,’ I said. ‘I can only protect a principal with their willing participation. If she’s against the idea, or obstructive, and refuses to take sensible precautions, then I can’t hope to do my job.’
Caroline Willner flipped back the sleeve of her jacket and consulted a wafer-thin wristwatch. ‘Dina should be back momentarily,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you ask her yourself?’
CHAPTER THREE
I stood in the lee of the security wall and watched Dina Willner wash clods of salt-laden sand from the white horse’s legs and belly. The animal delicately sidestepped the gush of the hosepipe with much snorting through distended nostrils, making a production out of it.
Dina was a slim girl, not much more than my height, and she seemed to handle him a lot more confidently on the ground than she had done while on his back.
Strictly speaking, white horses were referred to as ‘greys’, but such a dull term didn’t do justice to his haughty magnificence. I detected Spanish blood in the thick-crested neck and long sloping shoulder, pedigree temperament in the clearly delineated veins standing out through his coat. And if perhaps he wasn’t the most prudent match for Dina’s equestrian skills, I could understand, once she’d set eyes on him, how it would have been hard to settle for anything less.
As he scraped and stamped amid the spray, shoes ringing on the concrete pad that lay beneath the high wall, I briefly considered offering to hold his bridle, but quickly kept hands and thoughts to myself. I wasn’t yet officially in the Willners’ employ, and horse slobber, as I knew from my youth, would require dry-cleaning to remove. The white horse was producing enough froth around the metal in his mouth for me to imagine he’d been gargling with Alka-Seltzer. He distributed it freely with every temperamental shake of his head.
I had introduced myself as Dina rode up the beach to the house. Or rather, as soon as I’d stepped out of the gate in the wall at her approach, she’d smiled and called out brightly, ‘Hi! You must be the bodyguard.’
So much for keeping a low profile.
She was wearing a loose white blouse and a black felt hat with a wide brim and a flat crown that matched the nationality of the horse a little too carefully, I felt. Her hair was dark, pulled back into a ponytail that hung between her shoulder blades. And she had on a pair of pearl drop earrings. I wondered briefly what kind of person wore such expensive-looking jewellery to go riding on the beach?
There didn’t seem to be an answer to her question that wasn’t inane. I slipped on my sunglasses against the glare of sun on the water and said, ‘Did the way my knuckles drag on the floor give it away?’
For a moment she looked startled, then flashed a quick grin and dismounted, landing lightly in the sand. She looped the reins over her arm and elbowed the horse aside, not unkindly, when he tried to rub his sweaty face against her shoulder.
‘I’m Dina Willner – but I guess you knew that already.’
I shook the gloved hand she offered and murmured my name in response. She had a firm grip, backed by composure and the cool self-assurance that seems to come naturally to the offspring of the very rich. All too often, I’d found, brattishness and stroppy tantrums were bundled in as part of the package, but Dina’s gaze was frank and refreshingly open in its appraisal. She led the horse up onto the hardstanding near the gate, and pulled out the retractable hose.
‘When Mother said you were a girl, I wasn’t sure what to expect,’ she admitted, suddenly doubtful. ‘You don’t look like a bodyguard.’
‘I wouldn’t be much use if I did.’
A stock answer to a stock question. Parker usually wheeled me out when the client was looking for a more discreet level of security. There were plenty of guys on his books who really did look like they could drag their knuckles, and they had their time and place.
‘But …’ She paused, face clearing. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. You’re right, of course – this will be much more fun.’
Less like having a babysitter, you mean.
She flicked me another sideways glance as she played water over the horse’s tendons. ‘So, are you … armed? Right now?’
The weight of the 9 mm SIG sat neat and snug in its Kramer holster at the small of my back, but the wool suit had been carefully tailored to mask the outline of the gun. I smiled blandly. ‘If I did happen to be carrying concealed,’ I said, ‘and I told anyone about it, then technically it wouldn’t be concealed anymore.’
‘Ah … I suppose not.’ The horse shifted again, bored now with this game. Dina shut off the water and let the hose reel wind back in. I obligingly held the gate open and the pair of them went through, Dina walking by the horse’s shoulder. They both had a long purposeful stride.
Inside the gate was a pleasant shady courtyard containing the horse barn. It was a building about the size of a small bungalow, with a sliding door at one end and far enough from the house not to bother either set of occupants with noise or smells. When Dina opened the door, the air-conditioned gloom revealed a row of ornately constructed loose boxes down one side. Even the horses over here were spoilt rotten.
‘You’re not offended that I asked, I hope,’ Dina said over her shoulder as she led the white horse into the nearest stable, pivoting him round to unsaddle him. I stood in the open doorway and watched her deft movements, impressed as much by the fact that she was doing this herself as by her competence. ‘I’ve never had my own bodyguard before.’
‘That doesn’t mean you get to dress me up and put ribbons in my hair.’
She laughed out loud at that and the horse gave a surprised snort as if in agreement. ‘You’re funny. We’re going to get along just fine.’ She slipped the bridle down the horse’s long nose and rubbed his ears. ‘Just fine. Aren’t we, Cerdo, hmm, boy?’
‘Cerdo?’
I queried. ‘Isn’t that Spanish for—?’
‘“Pig” yes,’ Dina agreed, eyes dancing. ‘He has some long fancy name in his papers, but sometimes he can be real stubborn, so it seems to suit him.’
She gave the horse a final pat and came out of the stable, carrying his paraphernalia with her and clipping a chain across the opening. She paused in the wide central corridor, still holding the saddle in her arms. I wondered if her devotion to horse riding extended to cleaning tack and mucking out.
‘So, when do you start?’ she asked. ‘Or have you already?’
‘I think that’s rather up to you,’ I said, neutral. ‘And your mother, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Dina echoed. ‘But she wouldn’t have sent you down here to meet with me if she didn’t approve, so I don’t know what you said to her, but congratulations – you obviously passed the test.’ And for the first time there was a tinge of resentment in her tone.
I deduced ‘mother’ was not an easy woman to live with, never mind live up to, so I took a gamble and said easily, ‘Well, I didn’t wipe my nose on my sleeve and I managed to drink my tea without slurping it from the saucer, so I suppose she realised I was house-trained at least.’
It paid off. The lines of strain flattened out of her forehead and the quick grin was back, making her seem very much still a teenager. A pretty girl who lit the place up when she smiled. I guessed she hadn’t yet learnt to adjust the intensity. If she was this unguarded around boys, I thought privately, I would certainly have my work cut out fending off the hordes. Whether they had ransom on their minds, though, was quite another matter.
‘So, I guess Mother’s told you about the kidnappings,’ she said. ‘I mean, everybody’s behaving like nothing’s going on, but you have to know, don’t you? Otherwise, how can you try to stop them?’
‘There doesn’t seem to be much to know at the moment.’ I paused, wondering if she was tougher than she looked, and decided she’d be better with the truth now rather than later, however unpalatable. ‘But to be honest, because none of the victims have gone to the police or the FBI, there isn’t much can be done to stop these people.’
‘Oh … you mean they could just go on and on doing it for ever, and never be caught?’ She seemed astounded by the idea. I supposed that unless you’ve been personally touched by violent crime, your views are formed by the cosy propaganda of the TV cop shows, where the good guys always triumph before the closing credits.
I shrugged. I’d already disconcerted her enough, by the looks of it, without adding that the decision to keep things under wraps meant the perpetrators were indeed likely to go on making comparatively easy money until it couldn’t be covered up any longer.
Until somebody died.
As an illegal earner it was less risky than robbing a bank, but just as profitable. More than half a billion dollars a year disappeared into kidnappers’ pockets around the world, and the annual number of victims was rising rapidly. The relatively few kidnapping cases in the States was down to the high detection rate, a moot point in this case. Rich parents who would do anything to avoid bad publicity – I bet they can’t believe their luck, I thought. What reason do they have to stop now?
Still frowning, Dina put the saddle down onto a shaped wooden rack and laid the bridle across it. She swept off the hat, loosing her hair at the same time, and ruffling it distractedly back into a style mine never seemed to achieve after being flattened under a bike helmet. This despite the best efforts of my hairdresser, who’d talked me into a chin-level bob that had proved surprisingly durable otherwise.
‘So … what will you need for me to do?’ she asked at last, trying for her previous nonchalance. ‘I mean, I assume you don’t want me to hide in the basement or anything silly like that. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be much point in having you around, would there?’
I shook my head. ‘We’ll go into details later, but the basic rules are just don’t go anywhere without an escort – namely, me – and vary your routine. If you drive yourself to work, don’t always take the same route. That kind of thing.’
She laughed. ‘No worries there – I’m taking a year out. Mother tells people I’m “considering my options”, which sounds so much better than “bumming around with horses”, don’t you think?’
The white horse, piqued by no longer being the centre of attention, had shuffled forwards until his broad chest was hard up against the chain across the stable doorway. He stretched his neck towards us, ears flicking like radar, and grubbed at Dina’s sleeve with his lips. She reached out absently to scratch his nose.
‘Do you ride him on the beach at this time every day?’ I asked.
‘Usually – before it gets too hot. But they wouldn’t try for me then, surely?’ Her voice was shocked. ‘What about Cerdo?’
I shrugged again. Kidnappers had been known to shoot bodyguards, boy- or girlfriends, employees, dogs and innocent bystanders, in their quest to secure a valuable hostage. A horse would present few problems. Besides, all they had to do was turn him loose on the sands. It wasn’t as if he’d be able to pick them out of a line-up afterwards.
‘Best not to go out alone, then, just in case.’
Her smile was less confident than it had been. ‘That’s only a problem if you don’t ride.’
I thought of all those years spent Pony Clubbing back at home in rural Cheshire. ‘I’m a little rusty, but I’m sure it’ll come back to me.’
The door at the far end of the barn opened and Caroline Willner walked in with Parker Armstrong beside her. His eyes flicked straight to mine. I gave him a fractional nod, saw his surprise and relief only because I knew him well enough to discern it.
‘Ah, there you are, darling,’ Caroline Willner said. ‘You have not forgotten we have the senator and his wife coming to lunch, I hope?’
‘Of course not, Mother,’ Dina said in a slightly drawling voice she hadn’t used with me, but she made no moves to go and change, which I assume was the motive for the reminder.
There was a long uncomfortable pause during which time the only noise was the circular whirr of the ceiling fans inside the barn and the rush of surf from the beach. Even the white horse seemed to be waiting, still and expectant, to see who won this minor stand-off.
‘Well, I see you two have gotten acquainted,’ Caroline Willner said carefully at last, and I wondered why she didn’t want Dina to know what this meant to her. I glanced at the girl, caught her slightly mulish expression and realised it was all power plays between the two of them, had probably been that way for years.
‘Of course,’ Dina said, her tone airy as she pulled off her leather gloves. ‘Charlie was just telling me it would be dangerous to go out riding alone.’ A slight exaggeration, but close enough for me not to contradict her. ‘So, I guess she better start soon. I can’t leave Cerdo standing idle for more than a day or two. You know how wild he gets if he isn’t exercised.’
Caroline Willner’s only response to this veiled double-edged threat was an enquiring glance in Parker’s direction.
‘If you’ve come to a decision about needing close protection for your daughter,’ he said, non-committal and diplomatic, ‘then it would be prudent to have it in place as soon as is practicable.’
Caroline Willner didn’t quite sigh, but it was pretty close. Her gaze flickered over me with less warmth than she’d shown upstairs, as if I’d fed her daughter’s fantasy rather than squashed it, as she’d hoped. ‘Very well. I’ll leave the arrangements to you, Mr Armstrong.’
She had already begun to turn away, focused on her impending lunch party no doubt, when Dina’s voice brought her up short.
‘In that case, Mother, there’s every reason for me to go to the regatta party next weekend,’ she said, very clear, her triumph almost – but not quite – under control. ‘Don’t you think?’
Caroline Willner turned back, frowning, and I realised that Dina had lured her into check, playing a game I wasn’t aware of, by rules I didn’t understand. �
�I—’
Parker came to her rescue with a suitable line of escape. ‘We would have to assess the risks, of course,’ he said. ‘What kind of a party?’
‘Oh, it’s a friend’s birthday, but it’s also a kind of big celebration.’ Dina smiled, that bright open smile she’d given me at first sighting, down on the beach. ‘For the victims of the previous kidnappings. They’re all going to be there, so if Charlie really wants to find out what happened to them – so she can try to stop the same thing happening to me – well, what better place to start?’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘You OK?’
It took me a moment to focus on Parker’s voice. I swivelled in the passenger seat and realised we were driving through Queens, the chic elegance of Long Island far behind us in favour of cheap high-density housing. I’d never quite got over how much wiring seemed to be on view in American cities, the buildings festooned with it as though wearing their blood vessels on the outside of their bodies.
‘Yeah, I’m OK,’ I said, leaning back against the headrest. Ahead of us, a passenger jet was pulling out of LaGuardia and lumbering doggedly skywards. I could sympathise.
I was tired, I recognised. The kind of bone-deep utter weariness that long-term stress produces. But I kept on going through the motions, treading water, marking time.
Waiting.
We were in one of the Lincoln Navigators Parker favoured as general runabouts, heading back towards Manhattan where Armstrong-Meyer had its prestigious offices. I wondered briefly how long Parker would keep the ‘Meyer’ part of the name intact, without the man himself to back it up.
From behind the wheel, my boss flicked me a brief speaking glance. His eyes were hidden behind Ray-Bans, but I didn’t need to see them.
‘If you’re not sure about this job, tell me now and I’ll assign someone else.’ To his credit, there was nothing to react to in his matter-of-fact voice. Sympathy was the last thing I could cope with.
