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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

They contemplated it for a moment.

‘So maybe,’ Miranda said, ‘the parent company of all these different operations is Zeus. The king of the gods. Almost an inside joke.’

‘Indeed. Perhaps.’ Nodding, Peregrine ambled out of the office.

‘That means it definitely can’t be Dylan behind it all,’ said Casey after he had left. ‘I never thought it was him anyway, but he said all his businesses were run out of Bangladesh. So why would he bother with a building in Harley Street?’

‘Fine,’ said Miranda. ‘It’s not Dylan. But who is it? That man you just saw in the airport?’

Casey shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. He looked like someone who fixed problems.’

‘Could Greystone himself have been Zeus?’ asked Hessa.

‘That receptionist in Harley Street,’ Miranda remembered. ‘She said that Dr Greystone worked all hours. Could he possibly be operating these different businesses, right the way around the world, while also running a fertility clinic? It was a serious operation, that Harley Street place. There’s no doubt about that.’

Casey was shaking her head. ‘It can’t be Greystone,’ she said. ‘There has to be someone else.’

‘I’ll ask Cressida if anyone on the fashion team has any idea who is behind Rhapso,’ said Miranda. ‘There’s a chance they may know.’

‘Declan Bentley might know too,’ said Casey. ‘He has excellent spies.’

He had texted her earlier: ‘Rhapso still seem to be in business. Sort it out, love.’

‘All these companies are registered in the British Virgin Islands,’ said Hessa. ‘Which means it’s the same problem we always have. No shareholder info.’

Casey dropped her head into her hands. ‘Bloody hell.’

They sat there in silence for a moment.

‘I’m going for a run,’ said Casey. ‘I can’t think.’

She always ran when she was struggling with a story. Breaking down the battle into stride after stride after stride.

‘Go to the gym,’ Miranda’s head jerked up. ‘Don’t go outside.’

Casey hated the Post’s tiny gym, and its warm, grimy air. She climbed on the treadmill, unenthusiastically. In her head, she ran the big loops around Hyde Park. Past the shouts of Speaker’s Corner. Past the Serpentine, swans serene. Past the Round Pond, Emily crying. Thoughts of Emily jolted her back to the gym.

Casey pushed buttons and accelerated, feet pounding. There was a seam of an idea in her mind, buried deep. A miner digging along a thin vein of hope.

Who are you? Tell me who you are.

Portunus. Rhapso. Arachne. Aceso.

Zeus.

Everything hurt. Lungs screaming, legs burning.

Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?

She almost fell off the treadmill when her phone rang. She scrambled across to her bag and snatched it up. ‘Hello? Casey?’ A voice, wavering. ‘It’s Emily.’

60

60

‘Emily?’ Casey jumped up. ‘Oh, I’m so glad to hear from you. Are you all right?’