He glanced over at Daniel, standing a few paces away in the hotel entrance, lowered his voice so that he couldn’t be overheard. ‘You said you’d had a ransom demand. What with our recent conversation about the company finances, you know, I thought you might need a hand putting it together.’
She laid her hand on his elbow, touched beyond words. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she said. ‘But it’s okay, I’ve been able to borrow it. You should have called.’
‘I tried. You never answered. Besides, I figured you could use a friend anyway.’ He glanced over at Daniel again, gave her an interrogative look, as if to ask whether he could speak freely in front of him. She assured him he could, led him across and performed the introductions.
‘Daniel,’ said Titch, as they shook hands. ‘So you’re the one who rescued Rebecca from the reef?’
‘He had to rescue me again today,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘It’s becoming rather an irritating habit of his.’
‘Is that right?’ asked Titch.
Something in his voice reminded Rebecca of the uncomfortable night he’d taken her hand and made his declaration. Maybe there was more to his flying out here than he was letting on; but she put the disloyal thought aside. ‘You must be starving,’ she said. ‘I know I am.’
‘You want to go out?’
She shook her head. She dared not leave the ransom money unguarded in her room, but nor did she much fancy lugging it around town.
‘I’ll pick us up some pizzas,’ said Daniel. ‘Give you two a chance to catch up.’
‘Thanks.’ She led Titch up to her room, out on to her balcony, talked him through everything that had happened since they’d last spoken. She was just finishing up when Daniel arrived back with beers and some boxes of pizza: thin, scorched crusts smeared with tomato sauce and sprinkled sparingly with toppings. Titch tore off a strip that he rolled up like calzone and stuffed into his mouth. Then he turned to Rebecca, flapping his hands from the heat of it, evidently wanting to say something, but struggling to swallow. ‘So what now?’ he managed finally.
‘I guess we wait for the kidnappers to contact us,’ said Rebecca.
‘Can’t we do something? I mean, what about that mobile phone guy?’
‘What mobile phone guy?’
‘The one the kidnappers called to give you your instructions.’
‘Someone just knew his number, that’s all.’
‘Yes, but how did they know to call just when you were passing? I mean, either he gave them the nod or they had someone watching.’ Rebecca frowned, a little worried she’d not thought of this herself. ‘Maybe we could talk to him in the morning, see if he knows anything.’
‘It’s a good idea,’ acknowledged Rebecca.
‘And there’s something else,’ said Titch. ‘The kidnappers originally contacted you up at the Eden Reserve, right?’
‘So?’
‘So what if they didn’t get your message in the clearing? I mean, what if they still think the best way to contact you is by slipping a note beneath Eden’s front door?’ Rebecca glanced at Daniel, who nodded. ‘The thing is,’ continued Titch. ‘Perhaps one of us should be there, just in case. I mean, it can’t be you, Rebecca. You’ve clearly got to be here in case they try to contact you or call your mobile, right? But I could go.’ He glanced back and forth between her and Daniel. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve ridden a motorbike, and you’d have to give me directions, but-’
‘I’ll go,’ said Daniel.
‘No!’ protested Rebecca.
‘He’s right,’ said Daniel, getting to his feet. ‘One of us should be there. It makes sense for it to be me.’
‘You’re not leaving now, are you?’ asked Rebecca, dismayed. ‘You can’t. Your headlight doesn’t even work.’
‘Yes, but I can leave at dawn, and that means filling her up while the petrol station’s still open. Besides, I’m bushed. It’s been one hell of a day.’ He put his hand on her shoulder as he made his way past her to the balcony door, and she felt the jolt of contact run right through her. But if Daniel felt it too, he gave no sign. He merely nodded at Titch. ‘It was good to meet you,’ he said.
‘Likewise,’ said Titch.
THIRTY-EIGHT
I
Daniel’s departure, and a stomach full of pizza, made Rebecca realise how tired she was. Titch began making noises about getting himself a room, but Rebecca’s had a spare bed and she felt the need for company, not least because of all that ransom money in the holdall. They washed and went to their separate beds, turned out the lights. She lay there on her back, watching the headlights of passing cars painting yellow lines upon her ceiling, making desultory conversation with Titch about the office and their various projects. She couldn’t help thinking, while they were talking, how remote London seemed, how indifferent she was to news and gossip of it. They fell silent for a little while, then she said: ‘I’m going to stay here.’ She hadn’t consciously considered remaining in Madagascar until then, but the moment she said it, she realised it had been inevitable.
In the neighbouring bed, Titch drew in breath then pushed himself up on to his elbow. ‘How do you mean? For how long?’
She heard anxiety in his voice, decided to allay it. ‘Just until I can sort things out properly.’
‘What about America?’
‘Fuck America,’ she said, more vehemently then she’d intended. ‘This is family.’ She waited for him to respond, but he remained quiet so long that she realised there was a question he dared not ask. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay whatever happens with my father and sister.’
‘And what about us? What about our company?’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘It won’t work without you.’
‘Yes, it will.’
‘It won’t. You know it won’t.’
‘Let’s talk about it in the morning.’
He seemed to accept that. They wished each other goodnight and within fifteen minutes or so, his breathing pattern indicated he’d fallen asleep. Rebecca found it harder to drop off. Her soft tissues ached from the day’s ordeals. Apprehension about tomorrow was exacerbated by not having Daniel at her side. She strove for soothing thoughts, for happy places, but it wasn’t easy. She kept picking up her mobile to check the time, make sure the battery still had some juice in it; but each time she checked it, its dial would light up, draining it a little bit more. Her recharger was in Eden. Daniel was about to head that way. She wondered if she could justify going with him to collect it, but then she heard a motorbike outside. She slipped from the bed and went out on to her balcony, only to find his bike already gone.
She returned to bed, dozed off, woke a little later to find that it had grown light outside, and that the town was coming slowly to life. She still felt tired but she got up anyway, took out her copy of Mustafa’s loan agreement. She hadn’t had a chance to go through it properly before, and the more she read, the more it alarmed her. She kept setting it aside, telling herself not to worry about it now. But then she’d pick it up again. Mustafa hadn’t stinted himself, that was for sure. He’d told her about the five per cent interest, but not about his agent’s fee, nor that he’d demarcated the loan amount in its euro equivalent, according to the previous day’s tourist exchange rate; and that he wanted the principal paid back according to the exchange rate at the time of the repayment. The way she figured it, that would mean she’d have to pay the spread between the buy and sell rates twice; and the spreads here were notoriously punitive. She did a rough-and-ready calculation on the back of one of the pages; she’d borrowed five hundred million ariary from him: yet under the various terms, she already owed him getting on for seven hundred and fifty million. He was, in effect, charging her a?70,000 management fee for arranging a ten-day loan. She felt a little sick, not just at the money, but also because it felt like she was being scammed. Her immediate instinct was to stiff Mustafa in return. Once she was back in England, after all, he’d never be able to sue her. But that was too easy an out; he’d surely have anticipated it. It took her a minute or so to find the sting in the contract’s taiclass="underline" a clause stipulating her stake in Eden as security for his loan. That puzzled her, for she had no stake in Eden, not while her father was alive, at least. Suddenly she had a very bad feeling about this.