by Lucy Wadham
The fire flared and spat impressively. As the door opened, Stuart lowered the dustbin lid over the flames. He rose to his feet and stood face to face with Evelyne.
���It���s after nine. I���m not letting you in,��� she said, staring calmly at Stuart.
���I don���t want to come in. Thank you.���
Evelyne looked at G��rard and then back at Stuart. Stuart noticed how rare and slow Evelyne���s gestures were. She held herself still as if to mark her own delicacy. When she spoke she hardly moved her lips and she did not blink but lowered her lids over her eyes like a reptile. Her mouth was wide and thin and painted red. Her dark hair, scraped brutally from her forehead, lay flat and sleek on her skull. What looked to Stuart like cherries hung from each ear. Slowly, she folded her arms.
���What are you doing anyway? I heard about the kid. Shouldn���t you be out looking for it instead of pissing around with your gorilla here?��� She did not bother to designate G��rard but kept her lazy eyes on Stuart. Her heels enabled her to look down on him.
���Where were you Sunday afternoon?���
���At the villa.���
���Who with?���
She stared at him, full of weariness.
���Who with?��� he said again.
���You come and see me when you���re going in circles. You never get anything but you keep coming, don���t you? You���ve got to keep sending him that message: I���m on your tail. But you���re not. There���s never been so much ground between you.���
���Who were you with?���
Evelyne sighed. ���Coco.���
���He broke the summer rule then?���
She blinked.
���Why was that?��� Stuart said.
���He had a stiff neck. He needed a massage.���
���Excellent,��� G��rard said. At last Evelyne looked at him. ���That���s excellent.���
She blinked at G��rard and then turned back to Stuart.
���The boy disappeared on Sunday afternoon,��� Stuart said. ���It���s July. For the first time in at least ten years Coco wasn���t in the village.���
Stuart saw Evelyne select and reject a number of responses. She was not one to waste her breath.
���Coco���s retired. Why don���t you?���
���Come on, Evelyne. You know Coco can���t retire. The minute he retires he���s a dead man. He���s surrounded himself with half-wits, so he hasn���t got an heir. The teenagers from the Pescador are snapping at his heels and he owes one to the FNL. No wonder he���s got a stiff neck.���
Slowly Evelyne raised her hand and scratched her eyebrow with the point of her red nail.
���If he was involved, he wouldn���t tell you. But what interests me is how much you can accept.��� Stuart paused, but Evelyne���s mask of boredom was unchanged. ���He���s done some repulsive things, but a child.��� He looked at her hard mouth. ���You don���t have children ������
���And you do,��� Evelyne said, folding her arms.
���If you can���t think of the mother,��� Stuart said, ���think of the child. You were a child, weren���t you?���
Stuart held her stare. Her hatred was as palpable as desire. Her earrings swung back and forth, the only signal of the disarray inside her. Stuart waited for her last word. But she stepped back, two sure, steady paces on her narrow heels, and closed the door.
Before G��rard could speak, Stuart turned away and walked back to the car. He felt no gratification, but a great tiredness that overcame him suddenly.
Inside the car, the green letters ���call received��� glowed on the telephone. Stuart called the house. The two men sat side by side in the car, listening to the pleasant breathiness of the ring tone.
���Yes?��� Paul Fizzi���s voice sounded from a great way off.
Stuart picked up the receiver.
���The call came ten minutes ago,��� Paul said. ���They played a recording of the kid.���
���Did you get it?���
���It���s a call box in Massaccio.���
���Where?���
���The one near the Fritz Bar.���
���Did they let her talk?���
���No.���
���I���ll go and collect the tape, then I���ll come up to the house.���
���Stuart?���
���Yes?���
���The prosecutor wants you to call him and Zanetecci. Lasserre has been waiting for your call all day.���
���There���s no point calling her when I���ve got nothing to tell her. I���m coming up.���
���Mesguish has arrived. He���s brought twelve people and four cars.���
���Good. That���s fine. They can watch call boxes.���
���And Stuart,��� Paul said. ���Coco was here.���
���What did he want?���
���He wanted to talk to the woman.���
���And did he?���
���He did.���
Stuart did not answer. He replaced the receiver and then turned on the ignition. He reversed, spinning the wheel, numb with anger. The car swerved out of the car park, leaving a twisted tyre track on the road.
They did not speak on the way to the office. Stuart drove fast along the coast while G��rard watched the road in respectful concentration. The compound gates opened haltingly. Stuart swore, driving the heel of his hand into the remote control.
Fifteen minutes later he ran down the steps of the office clutching the cassette in a brown Ministry of the Interior envelope. He climbed back into his car and paused a moment before turning the ignition. Santini had been to the house. He had met the woman. He had rested his eyes on her, considered her, carried her away with him in his mind. Stuart started the car and drove out of the compound. When he was on the road into the mountains he loaded the cassette.
The recording was poor and there was a hissing noise. The speaker had a handkerchief over his mouth. Stuart took his foot off the accelerator to hear better. He could detect an accent. He rewound. They only wanted nine million. Even though he was expecting it, when it came the child���s scream made him start. He played it back, once, twice. He stopped the car on a sharp bend in the road and played the scream a third time. It was not pain, he believed, but fear in anticipation of pain. He started forward again and listened to the end. They gave no deadline, just a bouquet of threats.
As he drove past the petrol station at the entrance to the village, Stuart thought of the woman and Coco���s visit. He accelerated so sharply his tyres shrieked, filling the silent village, waking Beatrice, who rose in time to see her brother���s car race beneath her window.
Chapter Fourteen
Alice stood in the narrow corridor that led to the kitchen, her back against the wall and her hands resting on Dan���s head. His face was pressed against her stomach and she stroked his hair, trailing her fingers through it and letting it fall. She was thinking of an English prayer she had tried to teach Sam. He had got the words wrong and she had never corrected him. She was careful not to smile when he said it:
Gentle Jesus,
Make ���em wild.
Look upon
A little child.
Supper my simplicity.
Supper me to come to tea.
Amen.
Dan now spoke into her stomach. She held him away from her and he looked up, his eyes bleary.
���I want milk.���
She stared at hi
m, as if anything outside Sam had suddenly become indecipherable to her.
The back door opened, letting in a gust of wind that sent an eddy of dry leaves scattering across the flagstones. Alice and Dan turned and looked at Stuart. He nodded at her and closed the door carefully behind him. She realised she had been waiting for him and turned away in disappointment.
���You���re going to bed,��� she told Dan.
���Milk,��� he moaned.
���All right. Then bed.���
She steered him before her to the kitchen.
The policeman in tight jeans was sitting at the table, studying a crossword magazine. He flicked his lock of hair from his face and stood to attention as she and Stuart walked in.
She sat Dan on a chair and went to the fridge. She poured milk into a glass and set it on the table in front of him.
The policeman zipped up his jacket and patted himself, delaying his departure.
���I���ll call you later,��� Stuart said.
A metal chain hung from the policeman���s belt and disappeared into the back pocket of his trousers. Alice wondered what was on the end of the chain; there was not room enough for keys.
Dan gulped down his milk.
���Any message for Mesguish?���
���No,��� Stuart said. ���Just give him the list of call boxes. G��rard���s got it. Thanks, Paul.���
The policeman patted his pockets again, nodded sheepishly at Alice and bounced out of the door on his elaborate tennis shoes.
Stuart was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet.
���They called,��� she said.
���I know.���
She turned to Dan.
���You���re going back to bed.���
She picked him up, went into the corridor and called Babette. She became impatient waiting for her to appear. Babette wiped her hands on her apron and held them out for Dan.
���Come on, little man. You���re coming with me.���
Alice turned away from his cries, which faded as she closed the kitchen door behind her.
���What did Santini want?��� Stuart asked. Something in his voice made her turn and look at him. His face had changed; his eyes were threatening and he seemed charged.
���He offered his help,��� she said. She stared him out, challenging his anger.
���Two things,��� he said without meeting her eye. ���One, they���re amateurs.���
���That���s what Santini said.���
He did not react.
���They only asked for nine million. You can afford more. That���s a good thing.���
���I can���t get it fast enough. It���s in shares that are impossible to sell. It���s not an industrial empire any more. They���re functioning at a loss. It���s basically finished but my brother-in-law won���t let go.���
���What about him, your brother-in-law?���
���He hasn���t got it. He put everything into the company.��� She sat down at the head of the table.
���They haven���t given a deadline,��� Stuart said. ���That���s good too.���
She slammed her hand down on the table, making Dan���s empty glass jump.
���They hurt him!���
���No,��� he said. ���They threatened to hurt him. They scared him.���
���They said they���d cut his finger off.���
He did not answer. She nursed her hand, sore from the blow.
���They could do that, couldn���t they? Oh God.���
���They���re in town,��� he told her. ���They used a call box in town. Tomorrow morning we���ll be watching fifty call boxes in the area.���
���What if they go somewhere else?���
���They won���t move. It���s an additional risk. You shouldn���t ������ He stopped himself.
���What?���
���You shouldn���t trust Coco Santini.���
���I���m not trusting him. He came and offered his help. I said nothing. Then he left.���
���Those people don���t let you near them without getting you to pay.���
���I know,��� she said.
���How on earth would you know?���
���I just do.��� She held his stare. ���Listen. I don���t care who he is and I don���t care about your petty rivalry. I care about getting Sam back. If this man is in touch with the terrorists ������
Stuart shook his head.
���They���re not terrorists.���
���Who are they, then?��� she shouted. ���Who is it, for God���s sake?���
But he was looking past her at the door. She turned on her chair and saw the little girl from the H��tel Napol��on. Standing behind her was a beautiful woman, who spoke directly to Stuart, her voice hardly audible: ���I���ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. Oph��lie saw something.���
Stuart pulled out a chair and looked kindly at the woman, as though he were coaxing her forward. Alice did not recognise him.
���This is Madame Aron,��� he said. ���My sister, Beatrice Molina. And Oph��lie, her daughter.���
The woman nodded shyly at Alice and went and sat down on the chair Stuart had offered. She sat very straight, her hands folded in her lap, her shining face turned on Stuart. The child stood beside its mother and watched Alice with her weary eyes.
Stuart squatted down before the child but did not touch her. The child looked down on him.
���What did you see?��� he asked her.
Oph��lie turned and looked at Alice as if she were an intruder. Then she returned her gaze to Stuart.
���I saw a big black car and a man pick the little boy up and put him in the car and slam the door.���
Alice covered her mouth with her hand. The child looked at her.
���You saw the man put the boy in the car,��� Stuart said. ���What was the boy like?���
Oph��lie turned back to him.
���He had blond hair. I saw him at the hotel. He had green glasses on.���
���What about the man?��� Stuart asked. ���Did you see the man?���
���Yes.���
���Did you know him?��� he asked cautiously.
She shook her head. Stuart paused.
���What did he look like?���
���He was fat and he had sunglasses on.���
���Fat like who? Like Daddy?���
���No.���
���Tall? Was he a big man?���
Oph��lie nodded slowly. She was beginning to lose interest.
���He was tall,��� Stuart repeated. ���What about his hair?���
���Don���t know.��� She looked at her mother, whose grace seemed to set her apart from everything that was occurring around her, as though she was not concerned by any of this, only waiting for the child to finish her business.
���You saw the blond boy get in the car. What was the car like?��� Stuart asked.
���It was all black.���
���And big?��� Stuart said.
Alice could not bear to watch. She stood up, walked round the table and squatted beside Stuart. She took hold of one of Oph��lie���s hands. The child looked at her sleepily.
���Tell us about the car,��� Alice said. She smiled at the child while her eyes filled with tears. ���Tell us about the ca
r that took the little boy away. Did the boy want to get in the car?��� Oph��lie shook her head. ���Did he make a noise?���
���He wriggled.���
Alice let out a little cry.
���Was the car like Daddy���s?��� Stuart asked suddenly.
Oph��lie shook her head without bothering to look at him.
���It made a screeching noise.���
���What did?��� Alice asked.
���The car. It had a round thing sticking up on the front.���
���Did the man hurt him?��� Alice asked, squeezing her hand. The child grew uncomfortable; she was starting to close down. She pulled her hand free.
Stuart was drawing in a notebook. His hand shook as he held the drawing out for the child. Oph��lie stared at Stuart���s shaking hand.
���Like that? The thing on the front,��� he said. ���Like that?���
It was the Mercedes symbol. She nodded.
���Did the man put the boy in the back or the front?���
���The back.���
���Did he get in the back or the front?���
���The back.���
���Was there anyone else in the car?���
���I couldn���t see. The windows were black. It was all black.��� The child looked up at its mother. ���Can we go now?���
Stuart���s sister looked at her child, then at Stuart.
���Nothing when the gendarmes were here,��� she said. ���Then out of the blue, she starts talking about the boy with the green glasses.���
Alice was still kneeling, looking into the child���s unyielding face.
���Can we go now?��� Oph��lie asked again.
Stuart���s sister glanced at her daughter.
���I tried to call,��� she told Stuart. Her voice was just above a whisper. ���I kept getting the secretaries. I didn���t know what to do. I wanted to tell you. Then I heard you drive past, so I woke the child up, got her dressed and came straight over.���
