'Then I'd negotiate the ransom for your release.' His client's fist hit the table. 'That's the wrong fucking answer! You're being paid to look after me, Halloran, nobody else! Not her, nobody!' Halloran kept his tone level. 'By shooting the one who held Cora—and I could probably do it without her being harmed—I'd be endangering your life. Everyone would get gun-happy, and undoubtedly you'd be the second target after me. It'd make sense to keep things peaceful, bargain for your release later.' Kline was noticeably quivering. 'Bargain far my release? You crazy fuck. They could take the money and then kill me.'
'It doesn't work that way. These people are normally professional in what they do—to break a negotiated contract would mean they'd lose credibility next time.'
'You talk as if the whole thing is nothing more than a business.'
'That's just what it is, a multi-million pound business. Kidnap and ransom has become one of the world's few growth industries. Sure, every once in a while you get amateurs trying their hand, but they're few and far between, and generally frowned upon by their own but more competent kind—their bungling makes successful transactions more difficult for the professionals. It doesn't take organisations like mine, or the police, to discover which type we're dealing with, and I have to admit I prefer to be up against professionals -they're more predictable.'
'And that bunch yesterday? Haw would you classify them, Hall or an?' Kline's fists were clenched on the table-top and his lips were drawn tight.
'I'd say they knew what they were doing. The car they used wasn't traceable, they were patient and waited for exactly the right moment. Fortunately for us we had them spotted before they made their move.'
'They weren't that good. They failed, didn't they?'
'Only because we were better. And the fact that they managed to get clean away confirms my belief that they were competent. Once the first attempt failed they didn't compound their mistake by giving chase.
That could have been too messy. My guess is they'll be patient a while longer, wait for the right opportunity to come along. Or, at least, engineer that opportunity themselves. Now they know we're on the alert they'll be even more cautious.' “They'll try again?' It was Cora who had asked the question.
Halloran looked at her in surprise. 'Of course. But at least we have the slight advantage of knowing our client is a definite target.'
'I already told you that!' Kline was glaring at him, but although his wards were spoken angrily, the shrillness had gone from them. 'Why d'you think Magma hired your company in the first place? You think I'm on some kind of ego trip? Or suffering from paranoia? This is a real situation, Halloran, I told you that from the start.'
'Okay, so let's go back to an earlier question: who or what organisation do you think is behind it? I still can't accept that you've no idea.'
'Have any of your previous so-called targets known just who was out to get them? Why d'you expect me to?'
'Because you were aware before an attempt was ever made.' Kline's sigh transmuted into a groan. 'After all I've shown you, you still don't believe.'
'It's precisely because of what I know about you that I don't understand why you can't sense who your enemies are.' For the first time Kline looked unsure. His eyes went to Cora, then back to Halloran.
'There's the mystery, Halloran,' he said. And then, as if to himself, he repeated, 'Yeah, there's the mystery.' Once more Halloran was checking through the house, prowling the corridors, ensuring that no outside door or window had been left unlocked. Even in daytime he wanted Neath shut tight. It was when he was passing along the first-floor hallway overlooking the inner courtyard that he paused. A door was opening on the other side of the decayed fountain.
He waited by the window and watched, curious, as Khayed came through. The Arab was carrying a round metal container with handles on either side and by the way Khayed's body leaned backwards the burden had some weight. He scuttled across the yard, calling out to someone behind. Youssef Daoud appeared at the same doorway and he, too, dressed in the robes of his country as was his companion, carried a similar metal container. Both men were laughing and apparently joking as they went through another door leading to the front of the house.
On impulse, Halloran hurried downstairs and went out into the courtyard. He quickly crossed over and went through the door the two Arabs had emerged from. He was in the short passageway he had entered the night before, at one end the stairway, at the other the sturdy closed door. He walked to the latter and tested the handle. It was still locked. Or, if the two men had brought the containers from there, locked again.
Halloran stooped to examine the lock and immediately felt cold dank air from the keyhole on his cheek.
He touched the stone floor at the door's base and the chill draught was even more noticeable. It had to lead to a cellar of some kind, perhaps where Kline kept his best wines.
Noises outside. The Arabs returning. Halloran straightened, taking one last look at the lock as he did so.
Old and strong, large keyhole needing a long key. Shouldn't prove too difficult to open. But he wondered at his own curiosity. And why not ask Kline or Cora what was down there? He also wondered why the was reluctant to do just that.
The voices outside were louder, approaching.
He quickly went down the short length of the passage and stepped through the open doorway. The two Arabs stopped when they saw him. The one called Khayed was the quickest to regain his composure, his friend's look of hostility dissolving a fraction later.
Khayed gave a small bow and regarded Halloran questioningly. 'Assayed?'
'I found it open,' Halloran said, indicating the doorway behind.
'Ah,' said Khayed, then spoke to his companion in their own language. 'Sadi koona hashoor.' Daoud smiled at Halloran, who offered no more explanation than he'd already given.
A smell of spices drifted towards him from the two men. They waited there and he guessed they'd stay all day without saying another word until he went on his way. It was in his mind to ask them again what was beyond the locked door, but he doubted he'd receive a reply. He noticed Khayed held a long key by his side.
Halloran waved them through, but they remained where they were, politely indicating that he should pass them. 'Min fadlak, assayed,' said Khayed.
With a shrug, he cut back across the yard, this time making for the corridor leading to the main hall and the front of the house.
Coolness and gloom after the brightness of the yard struck him as soon as he entered and his footsteps were hollow on the stone flooring. He frowned when he saw that the doubledoors of the entrance were open wide and guessed that Khayed and Daoud were the culprits. He went to the door and passed through into the porch area.
Outside he saw that the Rover's tail was up, and inside were the two metal containers. He walked over to examine them more closely, tapping them both at first, the sound heavy, indicating they were full. The tops were tightly sealed.
He was prising at one with his fingertips when he heard the crunch of gravel behind him. Now there was no quick disguising of the alarm in Khayed's expression. He was alone, obviously having followed Halloran out while his companion went nn about his business.
'Kala, assayed,' the Arab said, recovering welt enough to smile.
Halloran raised his eyebrows. He indicated the containers. 'What's in them?' he asked.
'Nothing to concern the good sir,' came the reply.
'I'd like to take a look.'
'Oh no, sir, there is nothing of interest for you in them. It is food, you see.'
'What'''
'I said it is food inside the bins.' His companion appeared on the porch and he was holding vet another container. He halted to look at both men, then hurried over to the back of the car, politely edging past Halloran to place his load inside with the other two. He straightened and grinned at Halloran, his eyes full of amusement.