Free Old Enemies by Michael Dobbs Page B

arm, pinning it down. For a moment they stared into each other’s eyes, the South African smiled. Then his fingers found Ruari’s broken nose and gave it a violent twist.
    It felt to Ruari as though he had been hit by a hammer. He screamed. De Vries twisted his nose a second time and all Ruari’s defences were swept away. He began spilling numbers and addresses like a ripped sack of corn. He gave them what they wanted, everything, then he lay back on his mattress sobbing. He could taste the sweetness of blood in his mouth, his body was on fire, he was having trouble focusing through the bombardment of lights that were exploding inside his skull. He was only vaguely aware that Nelu was standing nearby, fiddling with the laptop, and de Vries was talking again, calling someone a bitch, talking about the police, a husband, and messages that would follow. He made sense of nothing until the moment that de Vries crushed his nose once more, and he started screaming all over again.

    ‘What do you want me to do?’ Harry repeated.
    ‘Wave a magic wand. Make this go away. Give me back my child,’ Terri whispered, her voice straining with every word.
    ‘You have time, kidnappers don’t tend to go away. You should wait until your husband comes home.’
    ‘I can’t wait,’ she bit back. ‘I can’t just sit here and do nothing but snivel. I’m his mother, for pity’s sake.’
    ‘I don’t think this is something I should get involved in.’
    ‘You must.’
    ‘Must?’
    ‘You have no choice, Harry,’ she insisted firmly. ‘You owe me.’
    ‘ I ? Owe you ?’ he spluttered.
    ‘Oh, I know it was a long time ago, but you weren’t the only one to get hurt.’
    ‘You covered it up remarkably well.’
    ‘You weren’t around to see.’
    He listened to her in a state of astonishment. For years he’d harboured an image of her as a cynical and hardhearted woman, for no better reason than it was easier for him to pile the blame on her that way, but now she was telling him how much she had cared, felt things. She picked up a silver-framed photo of herself holding the hand of a young boy in school uniform, green blazer, cap, long socks pulled up high, with grass stains on his knee.
    ‘Ruari?’ he asked.
    ‘His first day at school. I told him he had to be brave. I think that goes for me, too. I need you to be honest, Harry, tell me everything you can. Don’t try and protect me, I need to know.’ There was an urgency in her voice.
    ‘What can I tell you?’
    ‘A great deal, I suspect.’
    He took it as a criticism. He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. ‘OK. That voice,’ he began.
    ‘The South African?’
    ‘The first thing I ask myself is why a white South African is involved with an English kid in Switzerland.’ He rose, went to the window where she had been standing, where he imagined her standing looking out at a young boy on a scooter racing across the grass, making sure he was safe. ‘You ever upset any South Africans?’
    ‘Me? No. I’ve never even been there. Nor J.J., so far as I know.’
    The lawn was empty now, nothing but a couple of lazy crows searching for worms. He turned. ‘It’s always possible they might be acting for someone else.’
    ‘You mean, like a hired hand. A mercenary.’ They were statements, not questions. She was impressively up to pace. Despite her pain she was thinking, already working things through.
    ‘Possibly. We’ll need to wait and see what their demands are.’
    ‘How long?’
    ‘Not long, I suspect.’
    ‘But sometimes these things can drag on for weeks – months.’ Her voice rose in alarm.
    ‘You sure you want this?’
    ‘You must tell me.’
    He saw the fear in her eyes; lines of suffering were etching a path around her mouth. She was ageing a year with every hour. ‘I may be entirely off target here, you understand, but why did they make him scream? It wasn’t necessary, not in their first contact with you. It makes me think they’re in a