by Sofia Grey
As he filled the car with petrol, Sylvie rifled through the paperwork. Frederico Jorge, a home address in Los Angeles, and a copy of a passport in the same name. She stuffed the papers back into the glove box and swallowed hard. Nausea rolled like a ball in the pit of her stomach.
She was setting off God knew where, with a man whose real name she didn’t know and a mobile phone that only had his number programmed into it. He’d confiscated her old phone and taken all her bank cards.
Was she safe with him or was she heading into greater danger?
* * * *
When Marcus’s phone beeped mid-morning, he expected it to be Louisa. He didn’t expect to receive another picture of her. This time she sat in a café, looking through a menu, shopping bags surrounding her. He froze. There was no message, but there didn’t need to be. Some bastard was watching his wife.
With shaking fingers, he selected her number and called. The phone rang out, and then dropped to voicemail.
He tried to sound normal, and not as though his world was collapsing around his ears. “Hi, babe. I wondered if you wanted to meet for lunch today. Gimme a call.”
Why didn’t she answer her phone? Where was she?
And who was watching her?
Another thought rushed in on the back of these. What if Marianne was right and it was Rico? He’d said he’d be out of contact for the weekend. Where the fuck was he, and what was he doing?
* * * *
Rico drove out of London and onto the M40 towards Oxford. Sylvie pretended to the best of her ability that everything was normal, or as normal as could be expected in this fucked-up scenario. She refused to panic. Instead, she considered her limited options.
Only one stood out—run for it.
First, she needed him to stop.
When she saw the sign for motorway services, she announced that she needed to use the bathroom. The weather was foul and deteriorating with every mile that passed, and she was grateful that Rico snagged a parking space near the entrance.
He yawned when he switched off the engine, and Sylvie sneaked a glance at him. He looked wiped out. If she was going to make a bid for freedom, this was her best chance.
“Can you open the boot, please? I need to get something out of my bag.”
“Sure.” He flicked a switch, and the lid clicked open. “I need to make some calls anyway, but don’t be long. We’ve still got a way to go.”
“Should I bring us some coffees back?” That would buy her another few minutes.
“Yeah. That’d be good. Thanks, babe.” He leaned across and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. It nearly changed her mind, but she held onto her plan.
At the back of the car she was obscured from view and could sift through their bags for a minute or so. His window was part open, and she heard the rumble of his voice on the phone.
He’d brought a black nylon duffel bag and a laptop case. One of these would hold her bank cards and old phone. With trembling fingers, she unzipped the side pockets of his laptop bag. She tried all the pockets, but there was no sign of them. She moved on to the duffel.
“You okay there, Silverwood? What did you lose?” he called through the open window, and she froze.
Keep breathing. He was still in the car. She stuck her head around the side of the car and forced a smile. “I’m trying to find my iPod. It’s so small it gets lost.”
He seemed happy with that, so she continued searching. Look in every pocket, she told herself. Search methodically. He’d come to see what was taking her so long. She needed to hurry
At the bottom of his duffel, she closed her fingers around something cold and hard. She tugged it up to the daylight, and then dropped it again. Holy fuck. A gun.
Her knees rattled so hard, she wasn’t sure she could stand still. If she needed proof that Rico was trouble—and Dangerous with a capital D—this was surely it. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she scrubbed them away. Breathe. Think.
His conversation continued on the phone.
Sylvie never handled a gun before, and part of her was scared it might go off, but she’d rather it was with her than left with Rico. Handguns were totally illegal, so there was no legal reason why he would carry one.
She unzipped her bag and placed the gun on top of her things. Sweet baby Jesus. What kind of person was he? She was making the right decision.
Somehow, she managed to hoist her bag onto her shoulder and walk round to his open window. She blew a kiss to him, waggled her fingers, and walked through the entrance, glancing over back as she went.
He was still in the car, phone to his ear.
She followed the sign for the bathrooms and looked back at Rico. Still in the car.
The moment she could no longer see him, she ran full pelt towards the back of the building, searching for an exit sign. She needed the way out, and the sooner the better.
* * * *
Marcus kept his phone within reach and tried Louisa repeatedly. When it finally beeped with a text from her, he opened it with relief, only to blink in astonishment. Why would Louisa send him a picture of herself? She appeared to be climbing into a cab.
He read the message and wanted to throw up.
Your wife is very beautiful.
He had no idea where she was or who she was with. Whoever it was, they had her cell phone.
He slammed his phone onto the desktop and stalked to the window, to gaze blindly at the world below. His heart raced, and his palms were damp. Fuck no. What should he do? Call the police? And tell them what?
Was Marianne right? Was Rico behind this?
* * * *
Sylvie had considered and discarded a number of options. She had no ID, so hiring a car was impossible. The motorway services were in the middle of nowhere, so walking was out of the question, and there were no convenient coaches of tourists she could mingle with.
She needed to hitch a lift with someone.
Where would she go? Her house was a burned-out shell. Rico’s apartment was an obvious no. She’d have to go home to Mum and Dad’s and hope he didn’t follow her. Since they lived in Manchester, she had quite a journey ahead, and it started with finding a ride out of the service station.
She followed the signs to the truck parking lot. The rain lashed down, and without a coat, she’d soon be like a drowned rat. Maybe someone would take pity on her before that happened. She never hitched a ride before, and a thousand horror stories played in her brain. They were stories; people hitched all the time. She needed a kindly driver.
A woman would be nice, but failing that, an older man. A grandfather figure. She didn’t care where they were going. Getting away from here was her goal.
She tried to take cover behind an advertising board, but it was useless. Standing there, she’d never attract anyone’s attention.
It seemed like an age, before a couple of likely candidates walked out of the building towards the trucks. Sylvie plastered her best smile on her face and stepped forwards, only to stop dead. Rico stood on the other side of the board.
He stared at her, a serious expression on his face. “Not bothering with the coffee, huh?”
She tried to see past him, to the two truckers. They were about to climb into their vehicles. Could she run to them? Would he grab her?
Her lip wobbled, but she pretended she wasn’t scared. “I changed my mind.”
“About the coffee?”
One trucker closed his door, and the other hauled himself up the step. It was now or never.
“About going with you,” she said.
He closed the gap between them, to stand close enough to touch. His hair was soaked, and rain trickled down his face.
“If you touch me, I’ll scream.” The words poured out of her mouth. That was the quickest way to get attention. Scream. Loud as she could.
“What the hell?” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, muffling the furious noise when she tried to resist.
Her truckers were going to get away. She wriggled a
nd he let her go instantly. She stumbled back a step, to see the two trucks pulling out of the parking bays.
“Come on, let’s go.” He reached out but she didn’t take his hand. Instead, she slid open the zipper on her bag. She wasn’t going anywhere with him.
“Babe, what is your problem?” He sounded cranky, and she was down to her last option.
“My problem is that I’m done with you.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “Why?”
She dragged the gun out, and with a shaking hand, raised it to point in his face.
He didn’t waver, just stared back at her. “You fired a gun before, Silverwood?” His tone was light and conversational. “Makes a hell of a noise in close quarters. If you fired it here, your ears would be ringing for a week.” He paused, as though giving her the option to back down.
She couldn’t quit now. She held it as still as she could, her finger wavering over the trigger.
“And then there’s the mess,” he continued. “It’s a messy weapon. You’d be clearing up bits of brain and bone for weeks. Picking it out of your hair.”
Sylvie tried to take a step back, to put some distance between them, but she bumped into the damned advertising board. She was trapped.
Rico carried on talking, his voice calm and reassuring. “You should never point a gun at someone, unless you are prepared to use it. It’s a great way to end up dead. Are you planning on pulling that trigger anytime soon?”
A fat, salty tear escaped to roll down her cheek. She was frozen to the spot. Unable to run. She couldn’t fire it. She just couldn’t.
With a sigh, Rico reached forwards and took it from her. “You wouldn’t get very far with this one. The safety is on.” He turned it, to show a little catch on the side. “And it has no magazine. It’s not loaded.”
More tears trickled down her face. She blew it. What a fool she was. “What are you going to do to me?”
Chapter Fifteen
Marianne kept an eye on the new guy Rico brought in. Aiden sat quietly in his corner, tapping away on two laptops at once. He appeared ordinary, not like a government agent—whatever they looked like. She would have expected someone from a secret intelligence agency to either look like James Bond or be super geeky. This guy didn’t. Average height, dark buzz-cut hair, clean shaven, he wore a dark suit, and white shirt. He screamed of expensive schooling and a double first from Cambridge, but apart from his cut glass vowels, he could be a standard corporate executive.
After a sandwich lunch at her desk, he asked if they could talk securely, so she took him to Starbucks.
“I found some interesting data on the stolen computer. I need access to the V.P.’s laptop. Can you arrange it for me, please?”
She stared at him. What kind of data? She might as well wait until Marcus joined them, to find out. “I’ll call and ask him to join us.”
Marcus answered straight away and barked his name. Maybe this wasn’t a good time for him, but she needed to ask. “I’m over in Starbucks with Aiden Bradley, the new guy. He needs to see your laptop right away. Any chance you could join us for ten minutes?”
There was silence, then he grunted. “Yeah. I’ll be there. And Marianne, is anyone else with you? Have you seen Rico?”
Tension simmered in his voice, and worry settled in her gut. What now? “No, to both those questions.”
Marcus appeared a few minutes later, his face tight with stress. Before he could sit down, his phone trilled, and he grabbed it. He stared at the screen a second, and then answered, his voice hoarse. “Louisa?”
Marianne heard the soft murmur of a female voice on the other end and watched Marcus sagging while he listened. He slumped into a chair and talked softly, wiping his forehead with one hand. Anything that could scare Marcus, frightened Marianne too. She glanced at Aiden, and he looked back, openly curious. They waited for Marcus to finish.
Marcus disconnected and placed the phone on the table, before turning to Aiden. “You’re Aiden Bradley, right?”
Aiden nodded.
Marcus hesitated. “What do you know about Rico?”
Aiden looked surprised. “He engaged me to do some consulting for TM-Tech.”
“Okay. Do you have any proof you are who you say you are? How can I be sure you aren’t someone planted in my team?” He didn’t say by Rico, but she figured that was what he meant.
Aiden shrugged and dug into his pocket for a small wallet. “Security pass and photo-ID. You can contact my superiors, to confirm the secondment.”
“What can you tell me?”
Aiden sat back and rubbed his eyes. “I know you’re having a number of problems, and Rico briefed me fully last night.”
“Damn it. That’s not good enough.” Marcus thumped the table and the cups rattled. The people at the nearest tables stared at him.
“Marcus,” she clasped his arm, hoping to calm him, “Has something else happened?”
He swiped his thumb over his phone. “Louisa went shopping this morning. I received another anonymous phone message, with a picture of her.” He showed them a photo of Louisa, sitting in a café. “I tried calling her, to see where she was, but her phone went to voicemail. Then, half an hour ago, I received this message, from her phone.” He showed a second photo of Louisa climbing into a cab, and Marianne read the ominous message.
She clapped a hand to her mouth, unable to speak.
Marcus seemed to collect himself and carried on. “I was fucking petrified, as you can imagine. She’s called me now, from the apartment. She’s fine. Her wallet was stolen with her phone inside. She had to borrow some money, to get a cab back to the apartment.”
He hung his head for a moment and ran his hands across his face. “So whoever it was, the fucker did it as some sort of stunt. She was perfectly safe all the time. I need to know Rico had nothing to do with this.”
* * * *
TM-Tech is all about greed. Squeezing out the smaller guys, to get bigger. Squashing the undesirables. Marcus Reeve epitomises this perfectly. He’s not even satisfied with his beautiful wife.
But I’ve proved I can take her, and next time I’ll do it for real. And while he’s running scared, he’ll take his eye off the ball. Fear is an effective distraction.
Another pawn on the way to elimination.
* * * *
Aiden took Marcus’s phone and scrolled through the menus. “Can I borrow this for half an hour?”
Marcus shrugged, and Marianne’s heart went out to him. It was hard to grasp how worried he must have been. Under the table, she squeezed his knee. He flashed her a hint of a weary smile.
“I share your concern,” she said. “Since Rico is unavailable for the rest of the weekend, with his cell phone switched off, we have to ask if he could be involved.”
Aiden lifted his gaze from the phone, tugging his eyebrows together. “Rico didn’t know your wife would be here. He thought she was due this afternoon.”
“That’s bullshit.” Marianne leapt in. “He was in the office with us when she sent Marcus a text.” Or was he? She frowned, confused. “It was yesterday afternoon.” She stared at Marcus, and tried to make her brain work faster. Only yesterday. Think, Marianne. “Pete had briefed us on the stolen laptop. Remember?”
“Excuse me,” said Aiden. “Rico was with me yesterday afternoon.”
Marcus looked as though he’d been slapped in the face. “Rico wasn’t there. He was off site, remember? Pete wanted to see the three of us, but we couldn’t get hold of Rico. It was you and me—”
“And Pete,” they said together.
“Hello?” Aiden tried to get their attention again. “Rico was at South Bank with me. He arrived at lunchtime and didn’t leave until after midnight. There are authorisation logs that can prove his whereabouts. He can’t have been in that meeting.”
“Or photographing my wife.” Marcus spoke slowly.
He met her gaze. A different set of possibilities tumbled around her brain. Could Rico be right when he said
Pete couldn’t be trusted?
She remembered why they came to Starbucks and tried to steer the conversation back. “Aiden, you said you found some odd data on the laptop?”
“Yes. The logs have been tampered with—that’s easy to see—and it looks as though it was done in a hurry. A lot of the files that are dated to being more than six-months old look a lot younger. Maybe a week old, max. I want to check them against your personal drive”—he looked at Marcus—“to cross-reference them.”
Marcus wrinkled his brow. “So it’s likely my personal files were only accessed a week ago?”
Aiden nodded.
“It’s still possible Sylvie accessed my machine. But how? It doesn’t leave my office unless it goes home with me.”
“Do you leave it in your office while you’re in meetings?”
“Well, yes. Most of the time. I have a P.A. who sits right outside. The chance of someone wandering in and copying my files is slim.”
Aiden shrugged. “Slim, but not impossible. Your P.A. has to go to the bathroom, eat lunch, and so on. It would only take a couple of minutes to copy this sort of volume. Unless...This is a long shot—but have you had any work done on it recently, by your I.T. department?”
Marcus met her gaze. “The data encryption.” Aiden raised his brows in a silent question, and Marcus answered. “The I.T. people are applying additional encryption to all the hard drives. It was done earlier this week. Monday night.”
“And who was doing the encryption? Any ideas?”
Marianne had the answer to that. “They were organized by Pete Tandy, the Head of Security.” Marcus looked at her again.
Pete was there when Louisa sent her text to Marcus. Pete knew she’d be in London a day earlier than planned. He was the one who allegedly recovered the files from Sylvie’s stolen laptop, and as Head of Security he had access to everything.
* * * *
Rico stared at Sylvie, as though she spoke in a language he didn’t understand. “What do you mean, do to you? I’m trying to protect you. What the hell do you think I’m doing?” As he spoke, he tucked the gun into his jacket pocket, out of sight.
