She tore up and down that pool for ages. By the time she’d finished, got changed and returned, it was almost time for me to leave. The museum wasn’t far away, but I wanted to head off the chance of being delayed en route. Langdon kept checking his phone while we waited, no doubt hoping for last-minute news that would protect his precious $75,000, but none came. Reluctantly he said his driver would take us to the museum.

‘Nobody but me is allowed in to drop off the money though,’ I said. ‘I’m to put it under my mother’s scarf at the foot of the statue for four o’clock, on my own, and leave. The guy was very clear about that.’

‘We know,’ Langdon replied through gritted teeth.

‘Shall we get going then?’ I said.

Every step Langdon took towards the SUV hurt, I could tell. And the short trip to the museum, his phone still silent, was agony for him. I just wanted the drop-off over and done with so that we could return to the hotel. Mum and Dad would be there then, because that’s what the kidnapper had promised. I had to believe him. We pulled up outside the museum with twenty-five minutes to spare. They ticked away horribly slowly. With five to go Langdon finally pulled a brown envelope from his briefcase and handed it over. I could have hugged him. But he’s not the hugging type at the best of times, and at that moment I think he’d have punched me if I’d so much as touched him. So I simply took the envelope from him and let myself out of the car. I bought a ticket for the museum with my own money and worked my way through the grounds to the statue of Leopold sitting on his towering horse. The last time I’d visited, the museum had been deserted. Today a group of sweating tourists were having a guided tour. I had to wait for them to clear off before I could approach the statue, with just seconds to go before 4 p.m. Something twisted inside me at the sight of my mother’s grey and pink headscarf, balled up next to one of the horse’s front feet. It looked like it had been trampled. But I recognised it as hers, more proof the kidnapper had told the truth. If I did my bit, they would do theirs. The tour guide’s chatter faded as the group disappeared from view. I darted between the horse’s front legs, slid the envelope beneath the scarf and left without looking back.

43.