Midnight Girls (64 page)

‘Still doesn’t explain
this
,’ David said, gesturing to the papers. ‘Where is this missing money?’

‘I’ve truly no idea. I keep a firm grip on the accounts but I’ll need to go back to the accountant and go through everything with him …’

‘Was it for your car?’ her uncle asked abruptly. ‘You’ve
been
driving something fancy lately. Did you decide to give yourself a little cash advance to go and get it?’

Allegra was astonished. ‘My car? It’s about five years old. You’ve seen me driving in it for ages.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

She stared at him, appalled. How could he say that? He’d seen it, and often. Was he pretending or could he honestly not remember?
Is he trying to accuse me of stealing? That’s ridiculous, David could never think that. It must be some kind of misunderstanding, surely
… But her spirits sank as she realised that this was just the latest manifestation of his odd behaviour and memory lapses. She said gently, ‘David, are you all right? You haven’t been yourself lately. Do you think you should see a doctor?’

‘Why do you say that?’ he said in an ominously quiet voice.

‘Because you really haven’t been yourself for ages. I noticed it a while ago. You’ve been acting oddly, making mistakes, forgetting things. Tyra’s noticed it too. It’s not like you, it really isn’t. I wish you’d see somebody about it, get yourself thoroughly checked out.’

‘Oh, you’d like me to see doctors, would you? Kindly friends of yours who’ll certify me as not of sound mind?’ He suddenly swept all the papers off the table and on to the floor, roaring, ‘I see your game and it’s bloody filthy!’ Then he leapt to his feet and went to the door. ‘Rosa!’ he called, as he opened it. ‘Send them in here.’

Allegra stood up, confused. ‘Do you already have a doctor?’ she asked.

‘Oh, no, my dear, I do not.’ He stood back and the next moment a troop of men in sober suits came into the room carrying briefcases. David went to his desk by the window and sat on the leather-seated chair. ‘Gentlemen, I am ready to sign.’

‘Sign what?’ Anxiety was making Allegra’s skin prickle. ‘What are you going to sign, David?’

‘These gentlemen are lawyers,’ he said, almost kindly. ‘Mine are from Baxter and Harvill, the family’s legal advisors. And the others are from some whizz-bang City outfit. Their client has already signed the contract.’

The lawyers opened their cases and began to bring out documents. One of the men laid a thick pile of papers, stapled in the left-hand corner, in front of David and offered him a pen.

‘Thank you, I prefer to use my Cartier,’ he said, flicking through the document.

‘David, what are you going to sign?’ Allegra repeated, trying to get near him so she could read the print, but the lawyers seemed to be blocking her, trying to keep her away.

‘I’m going to sell the David McCorquodale Group, of course. I’ve been offered a price that’s more than fair. And do you know what? It’s time I had a rest. I’ve been slaving away at Colette’s for almost half a century and I fancy a cruise. I think a hundred million pounds should buy me rather a nice one.’

‘David, no!’ Allegra shrieked. She reached out her hand towards him. With a few strokes of his pen, he was going to bring down everything they’d worked so hard for. Oscar’s, Astor House – in just a second it would all be gone, along with her beloved Colette’s. ‘It’s Mitchell, isn’t it? He’s got to you! He’s persuaded you to sell to him … Why, David, why?’

Her uncle’s face contorted as though some malevolent spirit had possessed him. ‘Because you
know
what you are!’ he hissed. ‘You stole my money! And you’re wrong. I’m not selling to Mitchell. I’m selling to Romily de Lisle.’

Allegra paled. All the strength seemed to leave her. ‘What?’ she whispered. She could hardly take it in. Romily?
But
how? Through blurred vision she could see David poise his pen above the contract. ‘No.’ Her voice came out hoarse, barely audible. ‘Please, I’m begging you …’

‘Beg all you like,’ he said tartly. And signed his name with a flourish.

Chapter 58

ROMILY WOKE UP
with a thudding headache and a dry mouth. She tried to lick her lips and realised that she couldn’t because a thick gag was wrapped tightly around her mouth. Trying to move, she discovered that her hands were bound together, as were her feet. She was lying on a filthy sofa in a large room that looked as though it might be in a warehouse: at least, there were rows of industrial-style windows running along the highest point of the walls, where no ordinary house would have windows. It was daylight outside, but the grey patch of sky visible gave no indication what time it was.

What happened
? she thought blearily.
Where am I?

Then she was drenched in cold horror as she recalled the previous evening.
I’ve been kidnapped!

All her life she’d been aware of the threats that surrounded her and the entire family: kidnap, extortion, murder. She’d heard the story of the little Lindbergh baby, kidnapped, killed and buried before his parents could pay a ransom; she’d read about Patty Hearst, abducted for her family’s wealth and turned into a gun-toting criminal; and she knew of the Getty boy who’d had his ear cut off by his captors. She’d always been promised that this would never happen to her – it was one of the reasons she’d accepted the restriction of having bodyguards and security all her life. Everyone knew the de Lisles were worth billions. Romily
and
her brother had grown up two of the most closely guarded children in Europe.

But it had all been for nothing.

She was cold and stiff. She tried to stretch out but it was difficult without the use of her hands to push herself out of the well of badly sprung seat cushions.

Oh, God, what’s going to happen to me?

She felt herself tremble on the brink of hysteria. If she were able to open her mouth, she feared she’d start screaming and not be able to stop. She began to breathe fast, sucking in air through the gag and her nose, on the point of hyperventilating with panic.

No, stay calm
, she told herself. She forced herself to breathe slowly through her nose, pulling as much air as she could into her lungs and holding it in a few seconds before exhaling. It helped.
My only hope is to stay completely aware of everything that’s happening. Now – what can I see exactly?

She turned her head and strained to observe everything she could. A pair of wide double doors were tightly shut but she could see a bar of light coming from underneath. If her kidnappers were still around, they must be through there. She was sure she was alone in this big, chilly room. Thank God she’d put on her cashmere jumper before she’d left. Imagine if she were still in her red dress …

She tried to think back over the evening’s events.
It was Rocco
, she thought dully.
He stifled me with that handkerchief. He must be in on this plot somehow
.

Remembering the packet of photographs that had arrived that evening, she recalled his agitation.
He didn’t know someone else had me in their sights. He must have guessed I was changing my plans unexpectedly, going somewhere that meant he wouldn’t be able to do whatever it was he had planned. So he’s brought everything forward
.

That, she realised with a cold thud in her stomach, could
prove
dangerous for her. A kidnap planned and executed on the hoof would mean edgy, panicky captors. She would have to be careful not to shock or frighten them.

Whatever happens, keep calm, be friendly, remind them you’re a human being. Then … perhaps they won’t kill you
.

Allegra pulled to a halt in front of Adam’s mansion block. She was damn’ lucky she hadn’t been stopped by the police on her careering journey across town from Knightsbridge to North London, her vision sometimes blinded by tears, but she’d wiped them away angrily and carried on.

Only Adam would understand. Only he knew what it had been like over the last year or so. And to have it all taken away like this!

Why? Why did you do it, David?

She jumped out of the car and buzzed Adam’s apartment. There was no answer. She’d thought that he was heading back here this evening. She pulled out her telephone and rang him, but it went straight through to his voicemail.
Where are you?

She stood forlornly on the doorstep, wondering what to do next, then the door unexpectedly opened and one of the inhabitants of the building came out. As the woman left Allegra stepped behind her and stopped the front door from closing. She slipped in and hurried up the stairs to Adam’s flat. Outside his flat was a fire extinguisher cupboard and she knew he kept a spare key stuck to the underside of the cupboard top, out of sight.

I’ll go in and wait for him. He’ll be back soon
.

She found the key easily enough, opened the door and went inside. She’d spent many nights in the flat since she and Adam had been together, but had never been here on her own. It was clean, modern and decorated in a plain style, monochrome with the odd flash of colour. Adam liked his
gadgets
all right – he had a huge plasma screen HD television with cinema-quality sound and plenty of other toys to amuse himself.

What am I going to do? He’ll be devastated
, she thought, wandering desolately through the flat.
All our work together … how am I going to tell him?

She went into his bedroom. She wanted to lie down on the bed, curl up and go to sleep. Perhaps when she woke up, all this would be just a nasty dream and everything would have gone back to the way it was before.

She shivered, feeling cold. The heating hadn’t come on in the flat and the evening chill was beginning to permeate it.
I’ll wear one of Adam’s jumpers
.

She went over to the long line of built-in wardrobes where he stored all his clothes and opened it. The wardrobe ran the length of the room and inside was divided up into more cupboards, shelves and drawers. Pulling out some of the drawers, she looked for something suitable. Everything was neatly folded and arranged in colour-coded stacks. She found a grey V-neck lambswool jumper, took it out and slipped it over her silk blouse. It warmed her immediately. Being among Adam’s clothes gave her some comfort, and the neatness of the cupboards and drawers made her smile: it was so like Adam. He liked everything nice and neat. She pulled open another cupboard and stood there, blinking in confusion.

Unlike the other parts of the wardrobe this cupboard was a mess, or at least a muddle of things. No clothes hung from the rail, but some necklaces and rosaries did. On the back wall of the cupboard pictures and newspaper articles were stuck all over, some annotated and highlighted. On the shelf above the drawers were a large framed photograph, some trinkets, and two candles in silver sticks, half burned down, their wicks black and curled.

She frowned and shook her head, unable to take in what
she
was seeing. Everything looked so familiar and yet so odd. The framed photograph was a face she knew almost as well as her own, even though she hadn’t seen it for years – at least, not in reality. She’d seen it in her dreams many times but not alive since that dreadful night ten years ago at Westfield Boarding School for Girls.

It was Sophie Harcourt.

Chapter 59

IMOGEN STOOD IN
the kitchen, watching Alex as he lay on his back on the rug, kicking hard, and listening to the ringing tone. After a minute or so Tyra picked up.

‘Allegra McCorquodale’s office.’

‘Tyra, it’s Imogen. Wasn’t Allegra due back from Astor House this afternoon? She said she was coming straight home but she hasn’t turned up and her mobile’s off.’

‘Yes,’ Tyra said, ‘but she’s going directly to David’s house. He wants to see her about something. I should think she’s nearly finished, that was a while ago now.’

‘OK. Well, if she calls, tell her to let me know when she’s going to be back, will you?’

‘Sure.’

When Imogen hung up, she looked at the clock again. It was getting on for five o’clock and Allegra liked to be back for Alex’s bedtime as often as she could. It was strange not to hear from her … She went over to the rug and picked him up, dropping a kiss on his satin-smooth cheek. He gurgled at her.

‘That’s my favourite noise in the whole world,’ she said, smiling at him, and he grinned gummily back, kicking even harder.

The doorbell buzzed. She put Alex down on the rug and went over to the intercom. ‘Yes?’

‘Delivery for Allegra McCorquodale.’

‘Okay, I’ll come and get it.’ She went up the stairs to the hallway and along to the front door open it. Then, in a flurry of bewildering movement, she was being pushed backwards. A huge man was grabbing her arms, forcing them behind her back and wrestling her against the staircase. He was hissing in her ear, ‘Where the
fuck
is she? What have you done with her?’

Imogen couldn’t speak, almost blinded by shock. Panic rushed through her. All she could think was,
M
y
baby! My baby’s downstairs. Don’t hurt me!

‘Come on, tell me! What have you bitches done to her?’

She realised that the man holding her down had a strong American accent. His face, red with rage, was inches from hers, and she could feel his spittle as he ground out his words. She managed to pull herself together enough to stammer out, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’

‘Don’t fuck with me!’ yelled the man. He grabbed her shirt and shook her like a rag doll. ‘I wanna know where she is and you’re going to tell me, or you’ll be so fucking sorry you won’t know if you’ll ever make it better.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ she shrieked again. ‘Are you robbing me? Do you want money? My purse is over there!’

‘I don’t want money.’ He pulled back, looking at her contemptuously. For the first time she got a look at his face and gasped, unable to believe it. ‘Listen,’ he went on, ‘you oughta know that I have extremely good connections. If you don’t give her back to me, you are going to regret it.’