His arm brushed lightly against hers, and she had to remind herself not to flinch. Her stomach was in knots already. The drink helped, but she would have to be careful. She didn’t want to end up drunk and being taken advantage of. On closer inspection, he wasn’t bad-looking, in a macho sort of way. The salt-and-pepper hair and five-day stubble suited him and gave him an aura of maturity and authority he hadn’t possessed back then. His clothes sense could perhaps have been a bit more subtle. The suit was Hugo Boss, but the shirt and tie were definitely over the top. Still, he looked as if he had gone up in the world, and he probably didn’t make long drives to abduct young girls from orphanages in Moldova anymore. Not that any of this made a scrap of difference to Zelda. His slightly hooded cobalt blue eyes seemed restless, and when they fixed on her, she felt as if she were being undressed, just as Faye Butler had said.

She also noticed a crescent-shaped scar high on his right cheek and wondered if it had been there on the night he and his brother abducted her. She couldn’t remember it, but then she hadn’t had anything on her mind other than fighting him off and escaping. She reached out and touched it gently. “Have you always had that?”

He put his hand to his cheek self-consciously. “Accident. When I was very young.” He downed his whisky and ordered another with a snap of his fingers. He glanced at her glass, which was still half-full, and she shook her head. He was on his third large whisky already, certainly giving her a start by drinking so much so fast, she thought. It ought to speed up the action and effects of the flunitrazepam. On the other hand, maybe he was one of those people with a constitution that could stand just about anything. She would soon find out.

“Is getting more busy here,” he said as someone leaned over him and shouted out a drinks order.

“Yes. I must say, I’m dying for a cigarette.”

His expression brightened. “You smoke?”

“Yes. I know, I know, it’s a terrible habit and—”

“No. No.” He pointed at his chest. “Me. I smoke, too. So difficult these days.”

“We could go outside,” Zelda said tentatively.

“I have room here,” he said. “We can smoke there.”

“But aren’t all the rooms nonsmoking now?”

He just smiled. “Bah.”

“Well . . . all right,” she said. “Shall we leave our drinks here, for when we come back? I’m sure the barman will—”

“We take them. Drink and smoke good together. Right? I have more whisky in room.”