Part 41 (1/2)

He took his time about answering her, letting his eyes travel lazily over her face and body while he thought about it. Then he said, 'Okay. Slowly. And keep your hands where I can see them.'

Fizz slid down the wall. It felt infinitely better to be able 253. to wrap her arms around her s.h.i.+ns and rest her head on her knees. After a minute, she had regained enough bottle to see if she could get the centurion talking. She hadn't a clue what good it might do but it certainly wasn't doing any good waiting here quietly till Jerry Kincaid arrived to top them all -and she was hideously convinced that something of that nature was on the agenda. The time limit was anybody's guess, but she reckoned they must have at least half an hour, otherwise the centurion wouldn't have complained so much. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she lifted her head.

Thank you,' she whispered, as an opening gambit. She hadn't intended to whisper but that's how it came out. 'I feel better now.'

He looked at her without either sympathy or annoyance and returned to rubbing his temples, which he had been doing since he dropped the phone, alternating the ma.s.sage with pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes, and delicately fingering his closed lids -unfortunately one at a time.

Not that Fizz would have jumped him, even if he'd shut both eyes at once, but she wouldn't put it past Buchanan to do something so insanely suicidal. She knew him well enough to be able to see at a glance that he was trying to think of some way out and he was such a frigging hero that he was perfectly capable of throwing himself on the gun in the hope that Fizz and Poppy might somehow profit by his death. And that Fizz was determined to avoid.

She looked at the centurion and cleared her throat.

'You must have known about the cat, then.' She said it very quietly, as if that would make a blind bit of difference.

'Shut it!' He swung the gun round at her, making Buchanan twitch, and then added, with sullen reluctance, 'What cat?'

Fizz knew then that she'd hooked him and, if she could just play him for a while, she could at least divert some of his attention from Buchanan. She nodded her head at Poppy. 254. 'Her cat.'

The centurion examined the sobbing Poppy for a minute, squinting his eyes as though he wasn't focusing too well. 'What about her cat?'

'That's how we found out where she had moved to. I thought you must have done the same. Or did you follow us?'

'Shut it!' he said again, evidently feeling that she was taking a mile. The words were delivered in a bark but it made him wince and when he spoke again he had turned down the volume. 'This isn't a f.u.c.king debating society. I asked you about the f.u.c.king cat. Don't make me ask you again.'

Fizz tried to look willing while still spinning out the story as much as she dared. 'We were told the cat was dead -and it looks like it probably is -but we heard that somebody was looking for it so we bought a cat and took it to the police station and said we'd found it at Chirnside.

They took it in and I suppose they notified the guy from the Witness Protection Scheme. Anyway, we just waited outside till someone came out carrying the cat basket and then we followed him here. That's why I wondered if you'd followed us.'

He leered and moved the gun significantly. 'I have my own methods.' His scrunched up eyes swung round on Poppy. 'If your grovelling little b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a husband had kept his mouth shut, just once in his f.u.c.king life, you'd've been sitting pretty. Once a secret's out, it's out.' His smile was not a thing of beauty. He glanced again at his gun.

'But don't worry, kiddies. It's not going to go any further. I just sorted that out.'

If he was trying to frighten them he was doing a grand job, at least on Fizz and, quite manifestly, on Poppy.

Buchanan had regained some colour and his eyes were moving carefully around the room as if he were looking for a weapon or some other aid to escape. Fizz was pretty sure he wouldn't find anything, because she'd been 255. pursuing that line of thought herself, but she wished he'd stop thinking of a physical approach and start using his intellect.

The centurion was in an una.s.sailable position and while he held that awesome firearm n.o.body was going anywhere.

The WAS bloke was not going to return, the cavalry was not going to arrive, and a conveniently distracting shelf of pans in the kitchen was probably not going to collapse with a crash, diverting his attention while they all jumped on him. Their only hope was to keep on trying to distract him, watch out for a weakness, and pray for a lucky break.

The only weakness in his defence, as far as Fizz could see, was his migraine. It was, by now, quite apparent that he was in serious pain and might even, she thought, be showing signs of nausea. He had put aside the bottle of whisky, his expression betraying just a pa.s.sing hint of distaste, and there were beads of sweat gathering on his brow. If only he would throw up maybe there would be a split second when they could try for the gun.

Struggling to think of some way of keeping him talking, she murmured, 'You mean, you shot a policeman?'

He didn't like her talking but he did like frightening her and, after a brief struggle with his higher consciousness, he decided to spoil himself. 'You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs, sweetheart. Couldn't very well leave him to tell his boss who he'd been blabbing to, could I?

Not that he wanted to blab. No, no. Had to be persuaded a little, didn't he? Took a little time but he was happy enough to get it off his chest in the end.'

'What did you do to him?' Fizz asked. She positively did not want to know but she could see he was dying to tell her and if he was concentrating on enjoying himself he'd be that much more vulnerable.

'Are you sure you want to know, sweetheart?'

'Actually,' said Buchanan in a reasonable voice, 'I don't think it would be a good idea.'

The gun swept round to point at his chest. 256. 'Who asked your opinion, Valentino?'