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  “I’ll call him when I’m ready. Got to find Cari Harrison first,” she told him. Without a backward glance, the three girls slipped through the glass gates.

  Chapter 32 Amy

  There was nothing to be done but wait – for Ross to return with news about his summons to London, for her father to use his black art to prove Ross was innocent, even for Marty to change his mind about helping them. She doubted somehow that any of those things would happen, so most of all, Amy waited for a stroke of luck.

  Every avenue they’d explored in the search for Kat had led nowhere. Maybe the police would find her, and if so, Amy wished fervently it would be before Jeb and the knifeman. She sat in shade under a café canopy, sipping chilled wine and trying to enjoy the scene before her.

  She had found a café bar behind the Malmaison, overlooking a canal. The water sparkled silver in the sunlight. Squinting, she saw an arched bridge in the distance, a jetty, and a cluster of houseboats painted in bright colours like a flower garden.

  Amy fidgeted restlessly and ordered more wine. She could afford a treat, just. Ross had paid for everything since they left her flat two days before. Anyway, the wine was delicious, and well-priced compared with Fitzrovia. Her second glass softened her tension and unease.

  As she relaxed at last, her phone began to play Michael Jackson’s Thriller. It was her father.

  “Good news, Amy,” he said.

  “Really?” She could scarcely contain her excitement. “You’ve proved he didn’t do it?”

  “Hardly,” Charles said.

  She looked longingly at the wine. Could she take a gulp without him hearing it? “You said it was good news,” she accused.

  “It is,” Charles replied. “I haven’t run diagnostics on Veritable’s systems – in fact, I didn’t even need to ask for access – because their IT team had done it already. I phoned Davey Saxton, only to discover they were already on the case.”

  “So they know it wasn’t Ross?”

  “Yes,” Charles said. “That’s about the size of it.”

  Amy didn’t press him for more. She was eager to tell Ross. When she dialled, however, she was immediately diverted to his voicemail message. ‘Hello, it’s Ross here. I’m very busy but will ring you back at the earliest possible opportunity.’

  He could be so pompous, she thought. Smiling, she left a message, noting that another call was waiting.

  The caller withheld his number. As soon as he spoke, she knew it wasn’t Ross. Nevertheless, the voice was familiar.

  “It’s Erik. Remember?” It was the tall, thin man who’d removed Kat’s plants from their flat.

  Amy recalled how careful he’d been not to introduce himself. She hadn’t been sure whether he was friend or foe. Marty had been emphatic, however: ‘He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  “Erik, I have to see you again. Where are you?” she asked.

  “In Birmingham, near the centre.”

  “Give me the address,” she said eagerly. “I’ll get over there as soon as I can.” She couldn’t afford to wait for Ross. Instead, she phoned him, suffered his recorded message again, and left details of what she was doing and where she was going.

  Amy could have walked, but such was her excitement, she hailed a cab outside the hotel. Within minutes, it was stuck in a traffic jam.

  “The council’s working on the roads, like they do every summer,” the driver said gloomily. “It’d be quicker to walk.”

  “I would, but I don’t know the way.”

  He gave her directions and declined to take a fare from her. “I like to help a pretty girl out,” he said, a small act of kindness that boosted her confidence after Ross’ brutal rejection at breakfast.

  The newer glass and concrete offices of the city centre soon gave way to old red brick buildings, elaborately ornamented and turreted in the gothic style. ‘If you get lost, follow signs for the Big Peg,’ the taxi driver had said, and she did, while having no idea what the Big Peg was. They led her past a white church in a leafy square, buzzing bars and jewellery workshops. She was looking for Leopold Passage, a pedestrian alleyway behind a badge factory. Amy almost missed it. It was nothing more than a narrow, cobbled path, winding steeply to the left, flanked on either side by the walls of buildings three storeys higher or more. Very occasionally, a narrow door or barred window punctuated the red brick. The effect was claustrophobic, like walking between cliffs.

  Erik had told her to look for a door marked Clissolds. The path took another abrupt twist into a paved courtyard, and there it was, black-painted below a gothic arch. On either side of it were the two shrubs removed from Kat’s room, each in a terracotta pot and the picture of health, greener and glossier than before. It was proof, if Amy needed it, that she’d found Kat’s brother. But where was Kat?

  Chapter 33 Shaun

  Shaun was unimpressed by Marty Bridges’ property portfolio. Although well located near busy highways roaring around Birmingham city centre, the sites were mostly undeveloped: scrapyards and stony car parks. Even at two pounds a day, Shaun wasn’t tempted to risk his Merc’s suspension.

  “Why can’t we just torch his warehouse?” Jeb whined.

  “I told you before. Too many cameras,” Shaun said, almost immediately having a subtle change of heart. Jeb was irritating him. The younger man was jumpy and smoking more than usual, probably taking too much cocaine again. Shaun decided he needed time alone. “I’ll drop you off in Florence Street,” he said. “See if you can find an angle out of sight of the CCTV.”

  It was possible that Jeb would succeed, and if not, it gave Shaun an hour or so to enjoy a peaceful pint.

  Having left Jeb round the corner from East West Bridges, Shaun set his satnav to direct him to Hockley. This seemed more promising. Where previously he’d toured a hinterland of shabby factories and derelict sites, now he was in an area that had been gentrified. He drove through grand streets of tall, red brick buildings, often adorned with columns and curlicues in the same material. Occupied by jewellery tradesmen, design agencies and an occasional flat conversion, they were generally in a good state of repair. Losing a property here would hit Marty Bridges’ pocket.

  Shaun reversed into a parking space and fumbled in his pocket for change as he walked to the pay and display machine. His car had been acquired in payment for services rendered, and he was aware the supplier had stolen it and changed the number plate. Prudently, he preferred to park legally. It avoided drawing attention to his fake plate and lack of insurance and road tax.

  He saw her then, on the other side of the road: Kat’s flatmate, Amy. A nervous tic played at the corner of his mouth. She must know where Kat was. For a moment, he looked around for a traffic warden. He hadn’t bought his ticket yet. Was there time to run across for a little chat with Amy? Although it was broad daylight, he could still secure her co-operation with a well-placed blade.

  In the instant he looked away from her, a matter of a few seconds or so, Amy disappeared.

  Shaun gawped. Doubt flooded him. While he didn’t believe in ghosts, he wondered if she’d been simply a figment of his imagination. He fingered his chin, wincing as he touched the bruises Bridges had given him. Hidden by stubble, they were still tender. The pain brought him to his senses. He realised that, although the buildings across the road appeared to be a continuous terrace, they were not. A cobbled alley ran between them, a battered road sign stating that it was called Leopold Passage.

  It sounded familiar. Shaun paid for his parking and checked the address of Marty Bridges’ property: 3, Leopold Passage. Now he was not only sure where Amy had gone, he was certain he would find Kat there. Would Marty Bridges be there too? Shaun wasn’t going to take any chances. He wanted Jeb with him, and they needed to tool up. He took out his phone.

  Chapter 34 Amy

  Amy pressed the large, old-fashioned cream ceramic doorbell. Although she heard no sound, the black door immediately opened, fractionally at first, then wider. Erik stepped out.

  “A
my,” Erik said, making an attempt at a smile. He still looked grave, his green eyes piercing hers. “Please come in.” He ushered her over the threshold.

  She found herself alone with him in a shabby corridor, barely decorated with peeling white paint. There was a pink plush carpet which appeared to have been roughly hacked to fit the space available. Ahead, bare wooden stairs led upwards. To either side was a panelled oak door. Erik pushed open the left hand one, revealing a large living space with a sofa and other furniture. Everything was of good quality but mismatched. The pink carpet in this room did not quite stretch as far as the walls, revealing grey lino in the gaps. A blanket covered the front window, extinguishing any stray shafts of sunlight that might have filtered into the courtyard outside. Above, a bare light bulb illuminated the room.

  “It’s not homely like your flat,” he apologised.

  “It’s ten times as large,” Amy said. It was as clean and tidy too. As in Kat’s room in Fitzrovia, books were neatly stacked on shelves free of dust, and cut flowers arranged in a vase. She scrutinised Erik. Looking closer now, she noticed the family resemblance. He had Kat’s green eyes and slightly long nose. Even so, she could see from the lines at his mouth and forehead that he had a different personality from his sister. Erik was watchful and serious where Kat was happy-go-lucky.

  “Do you take tea?” Erik asked. “It’s all I can offer you, I’m afraid. I was about to make a cup for Kat.”

  “Where is she?” Amy asked.

  Erik pointed to the ceiling. “She has a room upstairs. I rent the whole property from Marty Bridges, so there’s more than enough space for both of us.”

  “Marty?” Amy was stunned. “He said he hadn’t seen you for years.”

  Erik grinned. “He may have told you he hadn’t seen Kat for years. He certainly doesn’t know she’s here. But he would suspect she and I were in contact, I believe.” He added, “Marty called me earlier with a long story about Kat being chased by gangsters – and also by you.”

  “I need to warn her,” Amy said. “Please let me see her.”

  “When we’ve talked,” Erik replied. “I can warn her if I have to. But I want to understand first why she’s running away and won’t talk to the police.”

  “Marty’s told you Kat’s in danger,” Amy said. “Do you appreciate how much? She knows a man called Jeb. He tried to murder Lizzie Clements, and he’ll kill Kat if he can. She owes his friends money.” Amy didn’t want to say more. She only had the knifeman’s word that Kat was a thief. “We’ve got to call the police,” she finished.

  “That’s the last thing my sister wants to do,” Erik said. “According to her, Jeb is a friend who helped her out when she needed money. I’m not so sure. There were strings attached.”

  “Like marrying illegal immigrants?”

  “Precisely,” Erik said. “She has admitted to that. Jeb gave her a thousand pounds a time. I understand the police will take a dim view, although I don’t see why they should care. It’s a victimless crime. She’s staying here until she works out what to do.”

  “Hardly victimless, Erik. Kat stole my identity to marry one of them,” Amy retorted.

  “That, she did not say.” His green eyes were kind, concerned. “You think Jeb is a murderer,” he said. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Almost too much,” Amy replied. “They found a knife with Jeb’s fingerprint in Lizzie Clements’ flat. A friend of his held a knife to my throat in London and came looking for Kat here. These people live in a darker world than you or I.” She remembered then that his parents had died in a foreign prison, and regretted her words.

  “You must persuade my sister,” Erik said.

  They heard footsteps and Kat waltzed into the room, looking as glamorous and carefree as ever. She was wearing a jade silk kimono, a garment Amy had often seen when they both rose languorously on a Saturday morning. “It’s so lovely to see you, Amy,” she breathed, air-kissing Amy in a cloud of perfume.

  “Kat,” Erik said, “you must listen to Amy. She has bad news about Lizzie, and Jeb is involved. Also, if what Amy says is true, you have abused her trust and you owe her an apology.” He glanced at his sister expectantly.

  “I didn’t think it was illegal to marry someone,” Kat said.

  “But to use another woman’s name?” Erik asked.

  Kat shrugged. “Surely it isn’t a big deal? You weren’t going to marry anyone else soon.”

  Momentarily, Amy was lost for words. “Nor was Bronwen, I suppose,” she said, seeing from Kat’s eyes that she was right.

  Kat clearly realised she’d overstepped the mark. “Amy, we’re all young girls,” she said hastily, “enjoying ourselves before we settle down. Who says any of us are the marrying kind?”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the strains of Thriller deep within Amy’s handbag. She fished out the phone, and saw it was Ross calling.

  Chapter 35 Ross

  Allowed through Veritable’s glass gates after stewing in the lobby for ten minutes, Ross had a very short meeting with Joanne Tonks. She’d hardly had time to usher him into one of the seminar rooms overlooking the river before Carolina Tait burst anxiously into the room. There had been some IT problems, according to Carolina; mistakes had been made, and she was deeply sorry he’d been disturbed on holiday. Ross accepted the HR director’s grovelling apology without a fuss. Noticing a missed call from Amy, he didn’t wish to linger at the office. He was already listening to her message as Conrad waved him back through the gates.

  There was a taxi rank a few metres away. Ross jumped in a cab. “Can you get me to Birmingham fast?” he demanded, waving a fistful of banknotes.

  The driver grimaced. “Only by taking you to Euston station,” he volunteered. “The drive’s over two hours. It’s quicker by train.”

  Ross was in luck. He arrived at Euston just before a train was due to leave. Sprinting and jostling through the crowds, he caught it with seconds to spare. He immediately phoned Amy to let her know.

  “That’s wonderful news, and I’ve got some too.” Amy sounded excited. “I’m with Kat right now.”

  “Where?” Ross asked. “Leopold Passage?” He couldn’t quite believe it.

  “Yes,” she said, warning him, “The traffic was dreadful earlier. You’ll have to walk here, but it’s actually not far from the station.”

  He overheard a man say it was a fifteen minute walk. “Who’s that?” Ross asked. “Erik?”

  Amy confirmed it was. “How was your meeting?”

  “HR made a mistake,” he told her, resolving to find out more from Carolina one day. It did no harm to be gracious towards Carolina; he might need her goodwill in future.

  “Ross...” Amy evidently didn’t care much about his spat with HR, for she changed the subject swiftly. “Erik’s flat isn’t that easy to find. You’d miss the passage if you weren’t looking for it.”

  Ross dismissed her concerns, but just in case, opened a map on his iPad as soon as the call was over. Exhilaration flowed through him. At last, he would see Kat again. He spent a pleasant journey browsing the internet for five star hotels in Thailand. Energy levels high, he leaped off the train as soon as its doors opened, and ran: through Birmingham’s central shopping streets, the business district with its lawyers’ offices and pubs, then finally into the grid of Victorian streets that comprised the Jewellery Quarter. He slowed as he approached Leopold Passage, hearing voices in the cobbled alleyway.

  “You took your time,” he heard a man say, with an evident London twang. There was a gruff, but indistinct, reply.

  Ross tiptoed cautiously into the passage, following its twists and turns until he reached the courtyard. The duo standing in front of the black door had their backs to him, but he knew them immediately from Amy and Marty’s descriptions: Shaun, clearly the elder, a touch of grey in his hair; and taller, darker Jeb.

  Ross’ first thought was to call the police. He took his phone from his pocket, preparing to run to safety as he dialled
999.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Shaun spun round.

  “I’m looking for the station,” Ross said, a poor effort at bluffing and clearly a wasted one. Shaun’s eyes held a glint of recognition. The criminal undoubtedly recalled their encounter in the pub.

  “Yeah, right,” Shaun said, rushing at Ross and knocking his phone to the ground. It shattered on the hard cobbles, shards of glass and silvery plastic shining in the sun.

  Ross ducked as Shaun swung a fist at his face. While hardly a streetfighter, he had learned to hold his own at boarding school.

  The door opened. Another man emerged and promptly head-butted Jeb. Momentarily distracted, Ross allowed Shaun to land a punch on his throat. He staggered, winded, as Shaun rained blows to his head, jaw and chest.

  “Get inside, Ross.” The newcomer, skinny, black-haired and green-eyed, was grappling with Shaun, Jeb now being preoccupied with a bloodied nose. This must be Erik, Ross realised.

  “Got to stop them,” Ross panted.

  “No,” Erik said, temporarily disabling Shaun with a kick to the groin. “You must help my sister. She’ll know where to go.”

  Ross heard Kat scream. He needed no further urging.

  Chapter 36 Jeb

  “Shoot him, Shaun,” Jeb pleaded. He would have done it himself without a second thought if he hadn’t been occupied in staunching the flow of blood from his nose. Wrath bubbled inside him, a cauldron of hate about to spill. It had been a trying day.

  “No. Too noisy,” Shaun said, ducking as Erik took a swing at him.

  Jeb scanned the courtyard quickly. Other buildings had windows overlooking it. Grudgingly, he conceded that Shaun was right. While Kat’s screams hadn’t attracted attention yet, it was foolhardy to invite it. Trembling with rage, he took his right hand away from his bloodied face, reaching inside his sock for a silent weapon.

  Erik was absorbed in his fist fight with Shaun, having evidently decided Jeb posed no further threat to him. That was a big mistake.