Bloom looked at George. ‘What have you done with him? Where is he?’ Her heart rate rose as the panic she had been trying to suppress began to take hold.

73

Jameson ran as fast as he could. He was a cyclist not a runner and, although he was fit, he could feel the lactic acid burning in his muscles. Keep low. Keep moving. It was a good motto for life as well as this specific moment.

Did he have time to call Bloom? It must be nearing the thirty-minute mark now.

How had he let himself get involved in this? Terrorist bombs, mind-altering surgery, torture, kidnap. This was not what he’d expected when he’d signed up to work with Bloom five years earlier. He’d imagined uplifting cases in which they’d provide desperately needed answers to long-standing mysteries. And it had started that way. Their early cases were husbands, wives, daughters, sons, all missing without a trace. He and Bloom had interrogated their lives, their characters, their motives and hunted them down, dead or alive. True, the impact of the resolutions was often mixed – sometimes they brought joy and sometimes despair – but they’d never been the ones in harm’s way before. Not until Seraphine.

At the gate, he checked that no one was around and then quickly entered.

Caroline looked up from the kitchen table. Robin sat beside her working on his laptop. ‘Did you find them?’ She placed a hand on Robin’s arm. He also looked up and placed his own hand over hers.

‘Where’s Augusta?’ Jameson said.

‘She left.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She went out to make a call and when I checked there was no sign of her. I called her but she didn’t pick up.’

Jameson checked his watch. He had left twenty-nine minutes ago so she had no reason to panic yet, and it wasn’t like Bloom to jump the gun. ‘Why did she go outside to make a call?’ He had told them to stay out of sight.

‘I don’t know,’ said Caroline, exasperated. ‘Did you find my children?’

Jameson shook his head. ‘No sign of them or anyone else for that matter.’

‘Is it a house?’ said Robin.

‘An old stately home converted into apartments. The door had a keypad.’

‘So you just gave up and came back?’

‘I couldn’t wade in there like this.’ He gestured towards his running gear. ‘I need back-up. When did Augusta go out?’

‘Five minutes ago.’

‘Call her again. Tell her to get back here.’ He’d returned via a different route, looping around the local roads and approaching the house from the south instead. Had she walked north to look for him? What the hell was she thinking?

‘Why don’t you call her?’ said Caroline. Her eyes blazed with anger and her tone was abrupt.