‘No, she isn’t. Well, she could be. Or she might not be. We just don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No. Jesus, we’re all so upset. What if … what if—’

Linus Twigg sounded desperate with anxiety and close to tears. If Ben had been with him in person, he wouldn’t have known whether to sit the guy down with a stiff drink or just beat the truth out of him. He said sharply, ‘Linus! What do I have to do to get you to explain what’s going on?’

‘I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense, am I? Here it is. It’s bad news, I’m afraid. The worst. Well, maybe not the very worst, if you know what I mean—’

‘Linus!’

Twigg swallowed hard with an audible gulp that sounded more like a sob, then came straight out with it.

‘Madison’s missing.’ He was breathing fast and the words tumbled out as he explained, ‘That is to say, we know where she is. Or at any rate, we think we do. I mean, more or less. But we do know for certain that she isn’t where she’s supposed to be, which is back here again. She should have been home by now but there’s been no contact. Nothing. Not a peep. It’s so awful!’

Ben hardly heard the rest of it, because an icy grip had taken hold of his heart at the sound of the word ‘missing’. It was one he’d heard too many times before, and he’d had a lot more experience than most people of just what it could entail. In a tight voice he said, ‘Linus. Stop babbling and tell me where you think she was when this happened.’

‘Afghanistan,’ Twigg said. ‘That’s where she was. Or is. At any rate, that’s where she went, three weeks ago. And that’s the last we saw of her.’

Ben’s eyes closed. Now it was his turn to take a deep breath. He asked, ‘What the hell was she doing in Afghanistan?’

‘She was there on business,’ Twigg replied. ‘You know what we do here at Cahill Enterprises, right? I assumed … I thought …’

‘You thought right, Linus,’ Ben said. ‘I get the picture.’