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Back The Dead Line Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. By the Same Author
  3. Dedication Page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Also Available by Holly Watt
  87. The Hunt and the Kill

‘Probably not,’ said Casey. ‘Any attempt to find her would put her in such danger.’

‘But she was so brave,’ Hessa clenched her fists. ‘She was so very brave.’

They were both silent with exhaustion by the time they got back to the hotel. Miranda was waiting, bags packed, with Bantham and Ed and the baby.

‘Hurry,’ she said.

Bantham had come in a diplomatic car. ‘I told the High Commissioner I needed to meet up with a few old contacts,’ he said. ‘He’s already suspicious.’

He gave them a lift to the airport all the same.

‘This is the bit that they will really get me on,’ Bantham almost laughed. ‘Inappropriate use of a government car.’

‘Get out of the country as soon as possible,’ Miranda said to him briefly. ‘The Commission may not be safe either.’

Miranda jiggled the baby in the sling almost instinctively, leaning away from the tiny weight. Casey watched the pair of them, a couple of places back in the queue. Casually bored, Miranda handed over the passport for a small Miss Pippa Lancaster, and the border guards shrugged them through.

53

53

They bounced through Dhaka, Qatar, and landed home. The English spring waited for them: the tulips red and gold in the parks, and the blossom blowing down the streets, confetti for a thousand brides.

As their car drew up at the Post, Dash and Ross hovered at the entrance. A stern young woman stood beside them.

‘Got her from that nanny place.’ Ross jerked his thumb. ‘The one the Royals use.’

The woman’s mouth tightened. ‘I’m Nina Reynolds,’ she said to Miranda.

‘It would be very useful if you could take over with Poppy for a short while,’ Dash said hastily. ‘We need Miranda’s help on a project . . . Urgently.’

‘Of course.’ Nina Reynolds spoke with precision, neat in her uniform. ‘I understand that a room has been booked in the hotel across the road.’

‘I booked it.’ Janet, the Editor’s personal assistant, appeared. ‘It’s all done.’

‘Marvellous.’ Miranda deposited Poppy into Nina’s arms like a parcel. ‘I’ll – um – pop round in a bit, Nina.’

‘I’ll show you to the hotel,’ said Janet. ‘This way.’

Hessa watched as the little group disappeared across the street. Poppy was crying. ‘She’ll be OK, won’t she?’

‘She’ll be fine,’ promised Casey. ‘Much better than she would be with us, anyway. Come on.’

They all crowded into the investigations room, Dash dragging in chairs from the main room. Ross stood by the door, one eye on his newsroom.

‘Where have you got to?’ Dash asked briskly.

‘Savannah is organising everything for the safe house back in Bangladesh,’ said Casey. ‘But whoever is in charge of operations in London will know that someone got to the Beauvallet, and brought the women out. So they’ll either be seeking revenge, or panicking.’

‘I’d assume these people were dangerous,’ said Miranda. ‘Not panicking.’