Part 25 (1/2)

'Okay,' Paul said. 'You're right, I suppose.'

They drove on in silence for a couple of miles.

'Royal Tunbridge Wells,' Vernon said, reading a road sign. 'Does the Queen live there or something?'

'I think this must be it,' said Kate, as they went over the roundabout that corresponded with Sampson's directions. A minute later, they spotted the pub, and its car park.

They pulled in, slowly, all three of them stiff with tension. Kate glanced at her shaking hands. But she felt one hundred per cent focused and alert. She felt like this was a moment she had been heading towards for a long time. She was here to reclaim her baby.

There was a single car parked in the car park: Kate recognised the menacing silhouette of Sampson's Audi, but with only moonlight to see by, it was too dark to make out much inside, though she was sure she could see the shape of a boy in the back seat. Her heart pounded. She watched the door of the Audi open, and the orange glow of a cigarette tip (Sampson had been smoking in the car with Jack! Her baby's poor lungs!) that sent out a shower of quickly-dying sparks as Sampson flicked it away.

He stopped in front of his car and called out. 'I only want Kate and Wilson to get out of the car.'

Kate whispered to Vernon: 'Don't do anything stupid. Okay?'

'Okay, okay, I hear you.'

She wondered why she'd said it - he was too much of a coward to try to act the hero. To Paul, she said, 'We're going to do whatever he says.'

She and Paul pushed open their doors and got out. The two of them walked slowly towards Sampson, their bodies close but not touching. It was silent in the car park and, over the sound of her heart thudding in her chest, Kate could hear gra.s.shoppers chirruping in the gra.s.s beyond.

Sampson lit up another cigarette, the flame of his lighter casting a flickering shadow on his face. In his other hand he held a gun, which he casually lifted and pointed towards them.

'This is what's going to happen next: I'm going to let the boy out of the car. You and Wilson are going to get into the car in his place, and we're going to leave.'

'No way,' said Paul.

'This is not a negotiation,' Sampson said, his voice low. 'You do what I say.'

'Yes,' said Kate. 'We'll do it.'

'Kate...' Paul protested, but she shook her head.

'Jack can go with Vernon. He'll be safe then. That's what matters.'

'But he'll kill us.'

There were tears in her eyes. To Paul she said, 'Maybe one day you'll be a parent, and then you'll understand.'

'Actually, it's extremely unlikely you ever will be a parent, Wilson, but you should still do as I say,' Sampson said, almost conversationally, pointing the gun at Paul's chest.

Throwing down his cigarette, Sampson took a few backward steps to the car and opened the back door. Jack jumped out and ran straight into Kate's arms. She lifted him up, hugging him tighter than she'd ever hugged him before. He smelled so good, felt so warm in her arms, and she cried against his soft hair as he said, 'Mummy, that man was smoking. And he hurt daddy.'

'Daddy's here, sweetheart. You're going to go with him.'

Jack tried to wriggle away. 'Where are you going?'

'I'm just going for a drive.'

'With that man? I hate him! Him and the doctor.'

'What doctor?'

Sampson spoke up. 'That's enough. Put him down and come with me. Now.'

'Mummy!' Jack tried to cling to her, but she had to push him away, every instinct making her want to hold on to him, feeling his distress bore into her.

He started to cry, sniffing back tears and making that awful, keening noise he made when he was upset. Or maybe she was making the noise. She couldn't tell. But this was the only way. He would be safe with Vernon. This was, in fact, better than she had hoped for. She had thought Sampson would try to kill them all, but she didn't try to understand what was going on. There would be time for that, she hoped.

Or she might be dead in a minute. This might be the last time she ever saw her son.

Putting Jack down and walking away from him was the hardest thing she had ever had to do.

She got into Sampson's car, in the back seat, and Paul got in beside her. Sampson climbed into the driver's seat and sped away, leaving Jack standing in the car park, sobbing. In the rear view mirror, Kate saw Vernon get out of the car and run over to him. He was safe. That was all that mattered.

'Where are we going?' she asked, in the calmest voice she could manage.

But Sampson didn't reply. He just watched her in the mirror, until she had to look away. Paul tried to take her hand, but she didn't want him to touch her. Not right now. At this moment, she felt like she didn't ever want anyone to touch her again.

Ten minutes later, after driving down a long, dark lane, they pulled up outside a large white house.

This is where it ends, Kate thought.

CHAPTER 40.

It was 1.25a.m, according to the clock on the dashboard. Kate remembered nights, before Jack was born, when she could often still be found at her lab bench at this time, and into the night, until she would look up from her work and see the sun rising outside, the sky a delicate pink and the city quiet beyond the sheltered realm of the university. That world, and the dawn, seemed a very long way away now.

Sampson switched off the engine and turned to look at her and Paul. He seemed tense, and at first Kate wondered why this was; why his mood had changed since the start of the journey. Then it struck her that this was more than odd: it was the first time she'd ever noticed him display any hint of emotion.

She ached inside for Jack; prayed that he was okay, that Vernon would be taking care of him. Where would Vernon go? Surely he would wait to see what happened and wouldn't whisk Jack straight back to America. Maybe he would head back to Miranda's. Or maybe he would go to the police now that Jack was safe. She wished she'd had a chance to talk to him after Sampson had said Jack could go with him. Her phone was in her pocket, and she itched to send Vernon a text. But could she do it without being seen? Maybe once they were inside.

'Come with me,' Sampson said.

He led them across the courtyard, gravel crunching beneath their feet, to the front door of a large, shabby Georgian house. It would have been a handsome house once, but now the paintwork was flaking from the window frames and sills, and a thick layer of dust dulled the gloss paint of the front door. Ivy crept up the walls, and dead leaves and sweet wrappers had piled up in the corners of the porch. There were no other buildings in sight, except for a few abandoned farm buildings just visible on the horizon. They were alone.

Sampson pressed a b.u.t.ton and spoke into the intercom, too quietly for Kate to hear. Paul caught her eye and attempted a rea.s.suring smile, but it slipped from his face.

The door was opened by a uniformed young man with a shaved head, who nodded at Sampson before retreating into the shadows. They found themselves in the entry hall to a traditional English upper-cla.s.s home: dark wood and dusty chandeliers, paintings of men with gundogs lining the walls. The place smelt musty, an uninhabited house, or a museum that rarely opened its doors.

'Follow me,' Sampson instructed, and they followed him down the hall, the bald security guard taking up the rear.

Sampson stopped in front of a metal door, incongruous in its traditional surroundings. The guard stepped in front of him and took out a mobile phone, murmuring a few words into it. Almost immediately, the door opened and Sampson nodded for them to follow.

The first things Kate noticed were the drop in temperature and the bright lights. They were standing in a small, bare room with metal surfaces and the hum of an air conditioner. It was like a s.h.i.+ft in a dream, when you suddenly find yourself in a new landscape with no connection to where you were before. Sampson shut the door behind them, leaving the guard on the outside, and another door opened at the other end of the room. An Asian man entered, wearing a white lab coat.