Lost

by Lucy Wadham

  Coco reached out and knocked the phone from Stuart���s hand, sending it sliding across the parquet and spilling its battery.

  ���I���m not making any calls until I get some guarantees.���

  Alice watched Stuart retrieve the phone and replace the battery.

  ���It���s not broken,��� Stuart said. ���You���re lucky.��� He walked over to Santini. With his left hand he reached down and gripped his wrist. Santini went rigid. He seemed mostly to be struggling against the indignity of resisting. With his right hand Stuart took the handcuffs from his jacket pocket. Alice heard the clicking as the handcuff bit several notches deeper and the chime of metal as Stuart hooked Santini���s right hand to the bar at the end of the bed.

  ���This is illegal,��� Santini said.

  ���No,��� Stuart said. ���As soon as I began that search, you were in my hands. If I want to put the cuffs on I can. No justification needed. Do you understand?���

  ���There are no grounds, Stuart. The search is over. You pulled too hard and the rope���s bust.���

  ���I don���t give a shit about your arms cache, Santini. I���ve got plenty to put you away. Just think of the word betrayal, Santini. That should put you straight. I don���t need a cache. I���ve got a little bird now.���

  Santini glared at Stuart. ���No deal,��� he said. Chained up he became more threatening. Alice stepped forward, forcing herself to overcome her fear of him. ���And get that woman out of here, for Christ���s sake!��� Alice jumped at the bark of his voice. ���What in God���s name is she doing here anyway?���

  ���You didn���t mind having her around before, Santini. You didn���t mind her being there so you could play Godfather. You lent her the ransom, remember. How much did she tell you she could afford? Thirty million at the most? Then, bam! they ask for thirty million. You���re trapped, Santini. You trapped yourself.���

  ���I offered her my help because she came asking for it. Ask her.��� He flung out his free arm. ���She came to me because she saw straight away how fucking useless you were.���

  Stuart���s face did not change.

  ���You���re trapped, Santini. You can���t pull out of the deal because I���m sending you down anyway for kidnapping. I���ve got plenty. Trust me.���

  ���Bullshit.��� Stuart turned his back on him and went to the fireplace. ���Who was it?���

  Santini���s face looked shockingly pale against the blue-black beard. Alice now stood in the middle of the room, afraid to move.

  ���Who grassed?��� Santini asked again. ���Tell me who it was.���

  ���Why would I do that?��� Stuart said.

  ���Without me, you don���t get the kid.���

  ���Is that your opinion? Then you must be right.���

  They stood there facing each other in silence, each waiting for the other to speak. At last Santini said, ���Take these off.��� He nodded at his right hand.

  Stuart looked at Santini. Then he crossed the room and freed him. As Stuart straightened up, Santini rubbed his wrist.

  ���Who was it?��� he asked again. ���Tell me.���

  Alice could see the mechanisms working between them like a fine machine.

  ���Forget it,��� Stuart said. ���Just forget it. It won���t make you feel any better.���

  ���I���ll be the judge of that. Who is it?���

  Stuart fetched one of the chairs from the fireside and set it down two paces away from Santini. Alice was tired of standing, but she did not want to draw attention to her presence again.

  ���Now we call Karim and you get him to take the nine million. We give them time to dream up the meeting. You���re going to take the money ������

  ���No way,��� Santini said. The two men were leaning towards each other. ���You���re not getting me to walk in there so you can book me with the others.���

  ���I���m taking the money,��� Alice said. ���No one else.��� Her ears were ringing and her voice was louder than she had intended. ���I���m not letting anyone take any risks with my child.��� She looked at Stuart, lowering her voice. ���They���ll feel less threatened if I go. Santini can set up a meeting with them and I���ll take the money.��� Her heart was beating fast and her face was flushed. ���Stuart?���

  ���I���m sorry,��� he said, shaking his head.

  She felt dizzy.

  ���I���m taking the money.��� She was using her own voice to steady herself. ���No one else.���

  ���Of course she���s got to take the money,��� Santini said. ���If I go, they���ll know something���s wrong. I���d never do it and they���ll know I���ve been set up. All she has to do is dump the bag and leave, right? She���ll be fine.���

  Stuart was staring at Alice as though he was not seeing her. She saw his fear and she saw how little in control he really was.

  ���Please,��� she said, gently. ���It must be me.���

  He seemed now to be taking her in. His face was full of sadness.

  ���You can���t go.���

  ���Stuart.���

  ���It���s too dangerous. I can���t let you. I���m sorry.��� He held out the mobile to Santini. ���Call Karim,��� he said.

  Alice closed her eyes. She felt all the strength drain from her. She heard Stuart strike a match to light his cigarette and the rain falling. She thought of Sam and saw his body. He was lying on his side with his knees brought up to his chest, fists and eyes closed. She felt Stuart taking hold of her hand. She knew the feel of his hand in hers, the size of it, the texture of the skin.

  ���Please, Stuart,��� she whispered. ���Let me go.���

  He held her hand tighter, so tightly it hurt her. The pain helped to tether her to what she perceived. Santini was dialling the number. ���Please,��� she whispered for the last time. But he did not let go.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The rain battered the tent, which had begun to leak through the zip.

  ���Fucking Go Sport,��� Karim said, touching the drip with his fingers. ���Cheap shite.���

  He had chosen the tent because it was silver and shaped like an igloo; it had not occurred to him that it might rain. Denis was lying beside him in his dead knight position. Karim could feel the damp coming up through the ground-sheet and his bedroll. The end of his sleeping bag was wet through.

  ���How can you just lie there?���

  ���What do you expect me to do?��� Denis mumbled, keeping his eyes closed.

  ���This is fucked. I���m cold.��� He was wearing all the clothes he had brought. He patted the pockets of his tracksuit for his hash. From somewhere within the bedding came the trill of the phone.

  ���Quick, where is it?��� He kicked Denis to enliven him and then found the phone nestling between his legs. He composed himself. ���Hello? The line���s shit.���

  ���Are you alone?���

  ���Denis is here.���

  ���Just Denis?���

  ���Yes. Why?���

  ���I���m going to give you some instructions and I want you to listen. Don���t answer. Just listen. When I���ve finished you���ll tell me you���ve understood, that���s all. Is that clear?���

  ���What is it? What���s going on?���

  ���Karim, I said listen.���

  �
��Sure. I���m listening.���

  ���No questions,��� Santini said.

  ���Right.���

  ���How many of you are there?��� Karim hesitated. He had a bad feeling. ���I said ������

  ���Three.���

  ���Okay. I want you out of this,��� Santini said.

  ���Fucking right,��� he said.

  ���What did I say?���

  ���Sorry.���

  ���The mother has nine million francs ready and waiting. You���re going to take the nine million. I want this over.��� Karim moaned with relief. ���I want to talk to whoever���s behind this. You���re going to pass me to the third man and I���m going to get him to accept the ransom.���

  Santini paused and Karim listened to the rain beating against the tent; he looked at the dead joint in his fingers. What was he talking about, the third man?

  ���Yeah right,��� Karim said.

  ���I���m going to get him to take the money. As soon as he leaves to collect it, you call me. Do you understand?���

  Karim looked down at Denis, who was lying with his arms behind his head, watching him, relaxed as anything.

  ���I���m going to give you a number ������ Santini was saying.

  ���Santini, you behind me?���

  ���Have I ever let you down, Karim?���

  ���Fuck,��� Karim said.

  ���The number is ������

  ���Wait, wait. I���m going to write it down. Shit.��� Karim was trembling. ���Denis, you fuckhead. Give us a pen.���

  But Denis had no use for pens.

  ���Just remember it, Karim.���

  ���Yeah, right. What is it? What���s the number?���

  ���0609363635.��� Santini���s voice was eerily patient.

  The first four digits were the same as his own. He just had to remember 36 twice, then 35.

  ���Karim, have you got that?���

  ���Yes.���

  ���Now where are you?���

  ���We���re in a shithole.���

  ���Directions, Karim. Come on. I���m going to get you out of this.���

  ���Okay. Right.��� Karim looked pleadingly at Denis, just lying there with his hands behind his head. But Denis always followed, so he never had to know where he was going. ���Drive through Cortizzio and take ��� what is it? ��� the left fork. It leads to a rubbish dump, okay? There���s an electricity plant just before it. On the right. Just there you���ll see this track that leads into the woods. It goes down into a kind of valley and then you lose the track and you have to follow the valley upwards.���

  ���Wait,��� Santini said. ���What valley?���

  ���Not a valley. It���s like a big ditch in the woods. Shit, Santini. I don���t know the maquis; I���m trying to think. When you follow the path down it leads to a ditch. You follow this ditch up ��� I mean to the right ��� follow it for a long way; it���s about half an hour���s walk uphill, then it disappears, I think, and you���re on a hillside. Fuck, I can���t explain.���

  ���Just go on.���

  Karim kept talking but he did not believe he was making sense.

  ���You see a track ��� it���s a goat track that runs uphill ��� and you follow that until it runs into a ridge with a steep drop on your right. It���s like a gorge, deep as hell.���

  He went on talking into the phone and when Santini didn���t interrupt him he knew he was being recorded. ���It���s a stone hut with a tree growing through the roof.���

  ���How long from Cortizzio?���

  ���About forty-five minutes.���

  There was a pause.

  ���How���s the child?��� Santini asked.

  What did Santini care about how the child was? There it was, spelled out for him: police.

  ���He���s okay. I suppose.���

  Karim saw a room full of cops in leather jackets with big bunches of keys hanging from their belts, the head man holding his finger to his lips, the mother standing there, crying silently, and the tape recorder turning round and round. Karim wondered if Santini had dreamed the whole thing up like this from the start. He was not the kind who got nailed. He must have planned it this way.

  ���Call that number as soon as he leaves.���

  ���Yeah. Just get me out of this.���

  ���I���ll speak to him now. Put him on.���

  Santini���s was the only voice Karim had ever heard that carried any authority for him. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and squatted in front of the entrance to the tent.

  ���We���re bailing out,��� he said to Denis.

  Karim knew the trouble they were in but he did not care at this point. All he cared about was getting out of the maquis and back to his car, his flat and his girlfriend, Nadia; seeing her in the bath, painting her toenails, her plump, golden body and all her black hair piled on top of her head.

  He brushed the water from his hair and stepped into the hut. Garetta was sitting on the tarpaulin with the radio quacking in his lap. The room smelled of paraffin from the lamp beside him on the floor. The boy was also on the tarpaulin, curled up in a ball in the corner, as far away from Garetta as he could be. Karim took the phone from inside his jacket and handed it to Garetta.

  ���Santini.���

  Garetta turned off the radio.

  ���Why didn���t he call me on my phone?���

  Karim shrugged and thrust the mobile at him.

  ���He���s waiting.���

  Garetta took the phone and held it to his ear, listening suspiciously. He was a caveman.

  ���Go on,��� Karim said. ���Talk to him.���

  The boy in the corner was very still.

  ���Yes?��� Garetta said.

  Karim watched Garetta listening to Santini. His face was gaunt and the skin was grey with stubble. He had thick sacs beneath his eyes. With his long black ringlets he looked like a pirate and this thought cheered Karim up. The rain, dripping through the hole in the roof, collected in a puddle at the base of the tree and flowed in a little stream along the floor, between his legs and out through the door. The smell of paraffin and rain and Garetta and the terrified child made the air thick as a hammam.

  Garetta was listening to Santini and keeping quiet. Karim realised it was not necessarily a sign that he was giving in. It looked like mute resistance.

  At last Garetta said, ���Okay, I���ll call you back,��� and then hung up. He contemplated Karim���s phone, then looked up at Karim and then back at his phone.

  ���So?��� Karim said.

  Garetta put the phone in his pocket.

  ���Hey!��� Karim clicked his fingers at him. ���My phone.���

  ���I���m going to call him back,��� Garetta said. ���I���m going to sleep on it, then call him back.���

  ���Use your own phone,��� Karim said.

  Garetta folded his arms, making the leather of his filthy Perfecto creak.

  ���Give me my phone back, man.���

  But Garetta ignored him.

  ���My phone, man. Use yours.��� But Karim could hear the defeat in his own voice.

  Garetta ignored him. He leaned forward and turned down the paraffin lamp. The room was filled with a dim, hissing light.

  ���Shit, man. It���s only six o���clock and it���s already night. What a shithole.��� He could
make out Garetta leaning back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, his huge feet resting one on top of the other. Garetta had been in the Legion in the north where a man learned to sleep hanging upside down from a tree. Karim was in good shape. He exercised enough to be proud of his body, to parade his perfect torso for the women, but he knew that it was cosmetic compared to Garetta. He���d told Santini where he was. Santini was behind him. And Santini equals the whole island, he told himself. He glanced at the bundle in the corner, then turned and went back into the rain.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The rain had ended, leaving no memory behind in the sky, which was a deep, Order of Merit blue. The sun had gone down behind the hills without colour or ceremony. Stuart and Alice sat in the hired Mercedes. They were parked in front of the closed gates to Santarosa���s cemetery, set back from the road and shielded from view by a row of cypress trees on either side of them. They had been waiting there for nearly an hour for Karim to call back with the meeting place.

  Further up the road, in the lay-by opposite the petrol station, G��rard was sitting at the wheel of Santini���s Saab. In the back were Joachim and Santini. Paul waited in his car with the other two cops, Mireille and the spotty youth. Fabrice waited in his van in the main square. Stuart told himself that even if he did call Central Office, it was too late to send reinforcements. The last plane from the mainland had already left.

  Sitting beside Alice, he could feel her anxiety come and go in waves. She was resting her elbows on the steering wheel of her car. Her lips were pale and she looked weak.

  ���Do you want me to drive?��� he asked. ���I can drive first, then you can take over.���

  ���No, no.���

  ���Do you want something to drink? Paul always has some whisky in a flask. I���ll get him to bring it.���

  ���I���m okay.���

  ���Are you sure?���

  She nodded and smoothed her face with her hands.

  ���Mesguish is good,��� Stuart said. She looked at him. ���Not as a human being but as a policeman. He is.���

  ���Are you convincing yourself?���