Julia had sensed something was wrong the moment Becky had returned to the room. ‘You’ve been smoking. What’s happened?’
Becky had told her friend about the hotel in Boulogne, about the agent being killed, and then Antoine’s confession. It had been some day. Julia had sat and listened, interjecting with question after question. She’d assumed Becky had concocted an elaborate ruse, but it was only when Becky had started to cry that Julia had realised it was true.
The two friends had consoled each other, as only best friends know how. Becky didn’t want to put a dampener on her friend’s mood, but the positivity she was now displaying was in stark contrast to what had come last night.
Julia brought the cup of tea over and rested it on the bedside table. ‘I’ve got some painkillers in my bag if you want?’
Becky gingerly nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She swallowed the pills with a swig of tea, before sitting up in bed. ‘Have you looked at the British newspapers online yet?’
‘I don’t want to, to be honest. They’ll print whatever bullshit they want. There’s nothing I can do about it. I never should have gone out to speak to them yesterday. That was stupid. I thought that if I could just explain my side they’d listen, but they were just looking to twist my words to sensationalise the story. I’m thinking I should actually phone that woman back.’
‘What woman?’
‘Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it. When you were out yesterday this woman turned up. She knocked at the door, so I opened it, assuming it would be you back. I thought she was a reporter at first, but then she passed me her business card.’ Julia picked up the card from on top of the television set and passed it to Becky. ‘Here you go. She’s called Diane Turner. She’s a publicist.’
‘What do you need a publicist for?’
‘Oh I don’t, but she reckoned I did. She said in situations like this, it’s important to handle the media in the right way. They were her exact words. She claims she helped that X-Factor judge who got caught buying drugs. Oh, and that footballer who was caught shagging his brother’s wife. Anyway, she said I needed to create a persona that the public could relate to, or I’d always be fighting against tabloid accusations.’
‘I hope you told her to do one.’
‘I said I’d think about it, just to get her out of the room. God knows how she snuck up here. The thing is: I won’t need a publicist if I get Noah back, so that’s what I’m going to do.’
Becky fought the pounding in her head. ‘Okay, I’ll bite: what did you have in mind?’
Julia smiled for the first time since Saturday. ‘When Antoine came round on Sunday, and suggested we drive to Dunkirk and show Noah’s photograph around, I thought it was a waste of time, but now I’m not so sure.’
‘Really? After what happened with that British family in Gravelines, I thought you’d be against such an idea.
‘That was…unfortunate. Probably going so soon after the incident didn’t help. I’m calmer now. I think I’ve accepted that he’s been taken, but I refuse to accept that I won’t see him again. I know he’s still alive, Bex. I can feel it in here.’ She touched her chest. ‘I can feel him.’
‘Are you planning to hitchhike all the way?’
‘No, I thought we could rent a car. Or more accurately, that you could rent us a car. I know it’s not fair of me to ask you to drive, but I haven’t got my licence with me. I’ll pay for the car, you just have to drive it. What do you say? I’m sure I saw some leaflets for car rental firms down in reception.’
The thought of getting out of bed was making Becky’s stomach turn, let alone the thought of driving. But there was hope in Julia’s eyes, and Becky didn’t want to be the one to take that away. ‘I’ll need to sober up a bit first.’
‘You were back here at nine, and it’s nearly eight o’clock now, so it’s been eleven hours since your last drink. By the time you’ve washed and eaten, any alcohol you consumed should have left your system.’
‘I can’t believe you’ve woken me up before eight o’clock. No wonder I feel so awful.’
‘If you were back home, you’d have been up by now and on your way to work. It is Tuesday, remember?’
‘Yes, but if I was home, I probably wouldn’t have been drinking G&Ts like they were going out of fashion.’
Julia pouted. ‘I’m sorry I woke you, but you’re awake now, so you might as well get ready. If you get moving, we could be in Dunkirk by ten. Please, please, please?’
Becky finished her tea and rolled out of bed towards the bathroom. Her head was still aching after the shower, but she didn’t feel as tired. She looked at the clothes on the bed. ‘Before we do anything, we need to buy some new clothes. I’ve been wearing the same things since Saturday, and I doubt even a dozen washes will ever get them clean now.’
‘Agreed.’
‘It’s alright for you. You’d brought a spare top with you.’
‘You know what it’s like with children around: it’s always good to pack a spare top in case something gets spilled. Trust me, I’m sure nobody has noticed you’ve been wearing the same jeans and top. Hey, do you think there’s a back exit to this hotel? I really don’t want to have to fight through the press to get out of here.’
‘There were only a handful of them left there when I got back last night. We must be old news now. With the fluctuating terror alerts across Europe, it’s hardly surprising. They might all be gone now.’
‘Even so, we’ll have to walk towards Calais, and that will give them time to follow us and ask questions. If there’s a back exit, we might sneak past them.’
‘We can ask at reception. The manager might also be able to recommend somewhere we can get some new clothes.’
The two women dressed, and headed out of the door. Becky glanced through the main doors as they passed through reception. There were still a couple of reporters hanging around at the entrance to the car park. Julia was right, if they walked past them, they were bound to be followed. For the first time ever, she empathised with celebrities who were constantly harassed by the paparazzi.
They each ordered a pastry to takeaway, and then spoke to the hotel owner about an escape route. He led them through the kitchen, and out to a back alley that passed under the veranda. He told them it was the service entrance where deliveries were made. The alley led out to the road that ran around the back of the hotel. He told them to wait at the end of the alley. Five minutes later, his car parked up on the back road and he told them to get in. He said he was going into Calais and would give them a lift to the centre of the city.
As he pulled back onto the main road, Becky noticed a man in jeans and a grey anorak watching them. He was athletically built, with a shock of red hair and a stubbly chin. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t place what. She asked Julia if she recognised him, but by the time Julia looked round, he was gone. Becky’s eyes darted around the street, but the man had vanished.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Becky and Julia made it to Dunkirk at quarter past ten in the Renault Twingo they’d managed to hire for a week. Becky still had the camera images of Noah and his abductor that Antoine had managed to capture from the security hub.
‘You know this is a mental idea,’ Becky said, as they parked the car and climbed out. ‘I mean, neither of us really speaks the language, so even if we find someone who recognises him, we won’t know what they’re saying.’
‘That’s a risk I’m prepared to take. Besides, I’m pretty sure more of them will speak English than Brits speak French. If we find someone that wants to say something, we’ll just look for someone who can translate. It’s better than sitting and waiting for the phone to ring in that bloody hotel room.’
Becky couldn’t argue. The sun was shining overhead and, although it wasn’t hot, it wasn’t cold either. She’d managed to buy several new tops in Calais, so even if there was no news by Sunday, at least she had something clean to wear. She didn’t want to imagine how she’d feel on Sunday if th
ey’d still not found him. She pushed the thought from her mind.
‘We need new images,’ Julia declared. ‘These are useful, but you can barely see Noah’s face in them. They must have a print shop around here somewhere. I’ve got several photos of him on my phone. There must be somewhere that can print them.’
So they set off, not knowing if such a place existed in the city. As luck would have it, they located a shop advertising t-shirt printing, near the sea front. Becky had no idea if the student behind the counter had given them a good deal, or blindly ripped them off, but by half past ten, they had nearly a hundred A4 prints of Noah’s face.
Julia’s plan was to seek the pity of local shop owners and ask them to put a copy of the photograph in their windows. As they exited the print shop, Becky saw him again. The athletic man in the grey anorak with red hair. But again, as she turned to point him out to Julia, he had disappeared. Either he was an apparition or the stress of the situation was finally taking its toll?
By eleven o’clock, they had completed a circuit of the shops at the seafront, and were heading back through the centre of the city. They had each shown the images to anyone who would stop and listen, but as they’d found in Gravelines, nobody recognised Noah or the man in the baseball cap.
‘I need a coffee,’ Julia eventually admitted, and steered them towards a quaint-looking café and tabac.
Becky ordered tea and a packet of twenty, having smoked what had remained of Durand’s packet last night. She ignored Julia’s disapproving stare. Julia busied herself on her phone while Becky finished her second cigarette.
‘Jules, don’t move suddenly, but I need you to slowly look up, and across the street. There is a man standing across from us wearing a grey anorak. I swear he is following me. This is the third time I’ve seen him today. If I look away, he is going to disappear, so slowly bring your head up and look across the street, so I know I’m not hallucinating.’
Julia slowly raised her head as directed. ‘What man are you talking about?’
‘Holy shit! You can’t see him? Handsome guy, red hair, athletic build?’
Julia laughed. ‘Oh, that guy. Don’t worry, you’re not going mad. He’s there. Jesus, he really is staring at us, isn’t he?’
‘I swear to God, I saw him outside our hotel, and then again when we left the print shop. This guy is frigging stalking us.’
‘Are you sure it’s the same guy?’
‘Certain. I thought I was imagining him at first, but he’s definitely watching us, isn’t he?’
‘Oh yeah, that’s for sure. He’s probably a reporter. Ignore him.’
‘How can you be so relaxed?’
‘He looks harmless. Forget about him, and drink your tea.’
Becky stubbed out the cigarette. ‘Fuck that! I’m going over there to see why he’s following us.’
‘I don’t think you need to; it looks like he’s coming over.’
Becky’s heart raced as she watched the man in the grey anorak cross the road and head towards the small café. She desperately hoped she was overreacting, and that he’d walk right past their outside table and head into the café, but he stopped when he reached them.
‘Julia Saidi?’ he said with a southern Irish accent. ‘My name’s Owen Kennedy. I knew your husband.’
Julia lowered her phone and focused on his face. ‘Oh my God.’ She smiled. ‘I recognise you. There’s a photo of you and Adie in our living room.’ She stood and offered her cheek, which he kissed. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘It’s a long story. Do you mind if I join you?’
‘Uh, well, no…I suppose not.’
‘Great. I’ll just get a drink. Can I get either of you anything?’
‘No, we’re fine.’
He nodded towards Becky, before disappearing off into the café, returning moments later. ‘They’re going to bring it out.’
‘I should introduce you. This is my best friend Bex. Bex, this is Adie’s friend Owen.’
He leaned forward and pecked her cheek, before pulling over a chair.
Becky lit another cigarette. ‘That’s why I recognised you. You served in the army with Adie, right?’
He smiled as he nodded.
‘I thought I was seeing things when I saw you watching us.’
‘Sorry about that. I was going to come and speak to you both at your hotel this morning, but you left before I got the chance.’
A waitress arrived at the table and placed two cups of coffee and a cup of tea on the table. He gave her some money and she headed back into the café.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered you both a second drink. I have the feeling you’re going to need it.’
Julia was dumbfounded. ‘What are you doing here? Adie used to talk about you all the time. I can’t count the number of times I told him to invite you over for dinner, but he always gave some excuse or another.’
‘It was difficult. Although we were in the same regiment, I’m not from Southampton. My family comes from Cork. He used to tell me that you’d asked to meet me, but I thought he was just saying that to be polite. My wife was the same, asking me to invite you guys to dinner too. I wish we’d arranged something.’
Julia frowned. ‘Better late than never. What are you doing in France? More to the point, how did you track me down?’
He lowered his cup. ‘That’s not so easy to answer. I saw the reports in the press about your boy. I take it they’ve not found him yet?’
Julia looked away.
‘Not yet,’ Becky confirmed. ‘We haven’t seen him since Saturday.’
‘That’s why I’m here. This isn’t easy for me to say.’
Becky exhaled. ‘What isn’t?’
He fixed her with a stare. ‘I think I know who took Noah.’
TWENTY-EIGHT
Julia looked at Becky, before firing a glare at Owen. ‘What the fuck did you say? Where is my son?’
Owen looked from Julia to Becky, and then back again. ‘I didn’t say I know where he is, but I may know who took him and why.’ He looked over both shoulders, before leaning in and whispering. ‘First of all, I need you both to remain calm. Can you do that?’
Julia didn’t look at Becky before answering. ‘Where the hell is he?’
‘I’ll come to that. What I have to tell you, you won’t want to believe, but hear me out, before you jump to conclusions. Can you promise me that?’
Julia’s eyes narrowed. ‘You were in Adie’s platoon. That means -’
‘Please, don’t jump to conclusions. It’s important to remember that I sought you out; not the other way around. Okay?’
Becky frowned at them both. ‘I don’t understand. How can you know where Noah is? We don’t even know you.’
Owen removed his sunglasses, and folded them before resting them on the table. ‘I first met Adie when we were in training. We were the only two in the unit who were married, so, while the rest of the unit used days off to get drunk and get laid, Adie and I were often left at the barracks with each other for company. For extended periods, we both returned home to spend time with our families, but that wasn’t always possible. We shared football as a common interest, and most weekends we would try and catch whatever the live game was at the barracks bar. He was like a brother. The rest of the unit would be chatting about women they’d shagged, and the two of us would just look at each other, knowing it was all bullshit. It became a running joke.’
He looked directly at Julia. ‘He really loved you. You should know that. He spoke about you all the time. He used to count the days until he’d see you again.’
‘What happened to Adie? The army told me very little about how he died.’
‘Things are so fucked up over there, that they’re not even sure what happened. I bet they quoted some bullshit like national security, right? That’s what they do when they can’t really explain how or why a brother has died. They say the same shit to us over there. What I’m about to tell you is classified. In fact, it�
�s beyond classified. Do you understand? If the truth ever gets out, the army will squash you to keep it quiet. They’ll come after you and your family. They’ll pressure you to keep it quiet, and they’ll do anything to discredit you.’
Julia reached for his hand. ‘Just tell us what happened.’
‘The last time we were deployed, we flew into Kandahar airfield. We’d been warned that the landing could be rough and had been ordered to put on our protective body armour and helmets just in case we came under fire from ground to air weapons. It reminds you of what is at stake. All the training, all the tactics, it counts for nothing in the end. We arrived safely, and moved to Camp Bastion, where we were stationed. They call it Camp Shorabak now, since NATO forces left. Anyway, about a month after we’d arrived, we were out on an early morning patrol. Me and Adie got talking to these couple of kids who told us there was a fanatic with a suicide jacket somewhere in the town. They told us he was going to head for the base. This was a common threat. The fanatics would strap themselves into a car packed with C4 and drive hell-for-leather at the base. They always think they’ll be the one to make it past our secured perimeter, but they never do. Anyway, we radioed in the threat and were ordered to hunt for the bomber. There were four of us on the patrol that day, as a couple of the other lads were recuperating in the hospital. Base said they would send a Mastiff to support us. It’s a patrol vehicle shielded by protective armour, and a fuck-off big machine gun on top. Oh, sorry, excuse my language.’
Becky waved away any offence.
‘So, Adie, me and the other two headed further into the town, while the Mastiff was deployed. It’s able to carry up to ten soldiers, but because four of us were already on patrol, they only put six in it. We found the fanatic as he was packing up his car. Adie tried to talk to him, but he started running towards us. He did what he had to, and he put the guy down.’
Julia gasped. ‘Adie killed him?’
Then He Was Gone Page 11
