Bloom considered that. ‘Do you still have it?’

‘He never asked for it back. And before you ask, I already have someone checking where it’s from.’

Bloom’s phone beeped. It was a message from Seraphine.

Today 21:15

Do you think me so crass as to endanger children?

Bloom knew Seraphine had no qualms whatsoever when it came to harming teenagers. ‘I think we have to assume Seraphine is working with whoever wants Harry.’

Jameson folded his arms. ‘And now they have him and the children.’

67

The views and their travel time made him think they were likely somewhere in sub-Saharan Africa. Seraphine was giving nothing away. The woman was an expert at dodging questions and he had grown bored of her verbal games. His head hurt and he wondered if that was just the cabin pressure and air-conditioning or something more sinister.

‘Just tell me who Alina Maree is and how I know her,’ he said after a long spell of silence.

‘It’s better you don’t know.’

‘How is it better? She’s the reason all of this has happened to me.’

‘Augusta only thinks that because I told her so.’

‘So Alina isn’t the reason?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Look, Seraphine. You asked me to choose and I did because you said you had answers, so cut the crap and tell me what you know. I’m sick of being in the dark.’

‘Being in the dark is the best place to be for this trip.’

‘Says who?’

Seraphine swivelled to face him. ‘The man I’m taking you to see has been looking for Alina Maree for a long time, and a few months ago he got a big break in his search when your cousin posted a picture on Facebook.’

Harry felt a tightening in his chest. ‘You’re taking me to the man who murdered Julian?’

‘Technically the man who had him murdered.’

‘And you think Julian led them to me?’

‘I know he did.’

‘How? How do you know this?’

Seraphine took a sip of water. ‘I have friends in high places, or … more accurately, I put my friends in high places.’

‘You have a friend in this man’s circle?’

‘In his organization, yes.’

‘And what is his organization?’

‘A religious-based freedom movement fighting for the liberation of their people.’

Harry had been in the military long enough to decipher the terminology. ‘This guy is a warlord?’

‘No, no, not at all.’

Harry felt genuine relief. He had worked for a commander who had been to Sierra Leone and seen the work of Foday Sankoh and his Liberian ally, Charles Taylor, first hand: the child soldiers drugged to their eyeballs, the brutal murders and limb amputations of anyone who dared to resist or question. He had no desire to meet one of those animals.

‘But his uncle is,’ said Seraphine.