emphasis.
“And how long before Renwick decides to come looking for you? How long before he decides it’s time to settle old scores?”
“That’s my problem, not yours,” Tom said with finality. “And it’s certainly not a good enough
reason
to
do
anything
56 james twining
other than walk away from your mess without making it any worse. I don’t trust you people. Never have. Never will.”
There was a long pause, during which Turnbull stared at him stonily before turning to face the front again and letting out a long sigh.
“Take this, then.” Turnbull held out a piece of paper, his arm bending back over his shoulder. It had a number scrawled on it. “In case you change your mind.”
The car slowed to a halt and the door flashed open. Tom and Archie stepped blinking out onto the street. It took them a few seconds to realize that they were back at Archie’s car. The clamp had been removed.
“So, what do you want to do?” asked Archie as he beeped the car open and slipped behind the wheel.
“Nothing, until we’ve checked him out,” Tom said, settling back into the soft black leather passenger seat just as the engine snarled into life. “I want to know what he’s really
after.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
GREENWICH, LONDON
January 5—1:22 p.m.
The room hadn’t changed. It only seemed a little emptier without him, as if all the energy had been sucked out of it. The faded brown curtain that he’d refused to open fully, even in the summer, remained drawn. The dark green carpet still bristled with dog hair and ash. The awful 1950s writing desk had not moved from the bay window, while on the mantelpiece the three volcanic rocks that he’d picked up from the slopes of Mount Etna when on honeymoon with her mother many years before, radiated their usual warm glow. As she crossed the room, Elena Weissman caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and flinched. Although only forty-five, and a young forty-five at that, she knew the last week had aged her ten years. Her green eyes were puffy and red, her face flushed and tired; the lines across her forehead and around her eyes and mouth had deepened from shallow indentations to small valleys. Her black hair, usually well groomed, was a mess. For the first time since her teens she was wearing no makeup. She hated being this way.
“Here you go, my love.” Sarah, her best friend, came back into the room with two mugs of tea. “Thanks.” Elena took a sip.
58 james twining
“These all need to be boxed up, do they?” Sarah asked, trying to sound cheerful, though her face betrayed her disgust at the state of the room.
Stacked up against the walls and fireplace and armchairs, and every other surface that would support them, were precarious towers of books and magazines—hardbacks and pa-perbacks and periodicals and pamphlets of various shapes and sizes and colors, some old with smooth leather spines stamped with faded gold letters, others new and bright with shiny dust jackets.
She remembered with a sad smile how the piles used to topple over, to an accompaniment of florid German curses. How her father would then try to stuff them into the overflowing bookcase that ran the length of the right-hand wall, only to admit defeat and arrange them into a fresh tower in a new location. A tower that would itself, in time, tumble to the floor as surely as if it had been built on sand.
Her grief took hold once again and she felt an arm placed around her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Sarah said gently.
“I just can’t believe he’s dead. That he’s really gone.” Elena’s shoulders shook as she sobbed.
“I know how hard it must be,” came the comforting reply.
“No one deserves to die like that. After everything he’d been through, all that suffering.” She looked into Sarah’s eyes for support and found it.
“The world’s gone mad,” Sarah agreed. “To kill an innocent man in his bed and then . .
.”
Her voice trailed off and Elena knew that she
“And how long before Renwick decides to come looking for you? How long before he decides it’s time to settle old scores?”
“That’s my problem, not yours,” Tom said with finality. “And it’s certainly not a good enough
reason
to
do
anything
56 james twining
other than walk away from your mess without making it any worse. I don’t trust you people. Never have. Never will.”
There was a long pause, during which Turnbull stared at him stonily before turning to face the front again and letting out a long sigh.
“Take this, then.” Turnbull held out a piece of paper, his arm bending back over his shoulder. It had a number scrawled on it. “In case you change your mind.”
The car slowed to a halt and the door flashed open. Tom and Archie stepped blinking out onto the street. It took them a few seconds to realize that they were back at Archie’s car. The clamp had been removed.
“So, what do you want to do?” asked Archie as he beeped the car open and slipped behind the wheel.
“Nothing, until we’ve checked him out,” Tom said, settling back into the soft black leather passenger seat just as the engine snarled into life. “I want to know what he’s really
after.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
GREENWICH, LONDON
January 5—1:22 p.m.
The room hadn’t changed. It only seemed a little emptier without him, as if all the energy had been sucked out of it. The faded brown curtain that he’d refused to open fully, even in the summer, remained drawn. The dark green carpet still bristled with dog hair and ash. The awful 1950s writing desk had not moved from the bay window, while on the mantelpiece the three volcanic rocks that he’d picked up from the slopes of Mount Etna when on honeymoon with her mother many years before, radiated their usual warm glow. As she crossed the room, Elena Weissman caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and flinched. Although only forty-five, and a young forty-five at that, she knew the last week had aged her ten years. Her green eyes were puffy and red, her face flushed and tired; the lines across her forehead and around her eyes and mouth had deepened from shallow indentations to small valleys. Her black hair, usually well groomed, was a mess. For the first time since her teens she was wearing no makeup. She hated being this way.
“Here you go, my love.” Sarah, her best friend, came back into the room with two mugs of tea. “Thanks.” Elena took a sip.
58 james twining
“These all need to be boxed up, do they?” Sarah asked, trying to sound cheerful, though her face betrayed her disgust at the state of the room.
Stacked up against the walls and fireplace and armchairs, and every other surface that would support them, were precarious towers of books and magazines—hardbacks and pa-perbacks and periodicals and pamphlets of various shapes and sizes and colors, some old with smooth leather spines stamped with faded gold letters, others new and bright with shiny dust jackets.
She remembered with a sad smile how the piles used to topple over, to an accompaniment of florid German curses. How her father would then try to stuff them into the overflowing bookcase that ran the length of the right-hand wall, only to admit defeat and arrange them into a fresh tower in a new location. A tower that would itself, in time, tumble to the floor as surely as if it had been built on sand.
Her grief took hold once again and she felt an arm placed around her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” Sarah said gently.
“I just can’t believe he’s dead. That he’s really gone.” Elena’s shoulders shook as she sobbed.
“I know how hard it must be,” came the comforting reply.
“No one deserves to die like that. After everything he’d been through, all that suffering.” She looked into Sarah’s eyes for support and found it.
“The world’s gone mad,” Sarah agreed. “To kill an innocent man in his bed and then . .
.”
Her voice trailed off and Elena knew that she
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