Harry tried to protest but his mouth was swollen and the words came out mumbled. He dragged himself on to his knees and leaned against the upturned chair. Bello began speaking, demanding that the children be brought to the phone again. Seraphine opened the door and stepped into the room.

‘I thought it was a little too quiet in here.’ Seraphine seemed entirely unperturbed by the scene in front of her.

‘Wait outside.’ Bello pointed at Seraphine. ‘You have no business here.’

‘I think I’ll stay.’

The vein in Bello’s forehead protruded like a venomous snake under his skin. ‘You. Will. Go.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said. ‘I won’t interrupt.’ She waved her hand in the air as if Bello’s activities were frivolous and unimportant.

‘You. Will. Go.’

‘Mr Bello,’ Seraphine took a step towards him. ‘Don’t forget that I brought this man to you. And I did that because I have my own issues with him and his associates. The least you can do is let me watch.’

Antony Bello’s jaw moved from side to side as he studied Seraphine. She was standing with her hands in her trouser pockets, like a woman admiring a thing of beauty rather than one asking to watch a man be tortured. Bello put the phone to his mouth.

‘Cut off her hand.’

89

George appeared in the cabin doorway. They’d been sailing steadily into open water. The initial congestion of the Solent and the British Channel had given way to calm blue as far as the eye could see. Bloom guessed that they were being taken to France. Once there, they could hopefully use Jake’s watch to notify Caroline and, in turn, Jameson of their location.

But then she realized how quiet it was. George had turned off the engine.

‘Everyone out,’ he said.

One by one they filed on to the deck. It had a dark blue canvas railing and bench seats on both sides. George instructed them to sit on the longest bench and then fetched the satellite phone from the upper flybridge.

‘Sir,’ he said. ‘We are ready.’

George indicated that the foot soldier should unzip the holdall on the floor. The young man did as he was told, opening the bag and taking a single item from inside.

Bloom squeezed Jake’s arm, partly to reassure him and partly to calm herself. She was unfamiliar with firearms and so it had been easy to tell herself that the guns were replicas, there to frighten them and nothing more. But the large wooden-handled knife was glinting in the sunlight, obviously real, obviously intended for one of them. She’d once seen a similar knife used to slaughter a camel in India. It was an image that had stayed with her for many years.

‘You,’ said George, pointing at Sophie. ‘On the floor.’

The girl shook her head.

‘Not a chance in hell,’ said Karene.

‘On the floor,’ he repeated. ‘Now.’