‘Let’s split up,’ he said. ‘I’ll check his chalet, while you organise the house attendants to search the grounds.’ As Ursula headed back to inform the staff, his mind raced ahead. Where could the boy be? Cameras studded the property. Any one of them should have picked up Ismail’s movements. Time to alert Security. Sweat dampened his collar as he punched the number into his phone. Before anyone picked up, he spotted a figure, some fifty metres away, slipping through the hedge. His heart lurched with relief, and he texted Ursula: Found him.

Spurred on by a rush of adrenaline, Gessen crashed through the shrubbery and into the hushed atmosphere of the Zen garden. Normally, his favourite place in the grounds, painstakingly constructed with exotic flora and statuary shipped from Japan. But with his heart hammering against his ribs, it was impossible to appreciate the elements of stillness and ease. A movement in the far side of the garden caught his eye. A slender figure heading towards a gap in the hedge.

‘Ismail!’

The boy hesitated. When he turned, his dark eyes blazed with scorn. Weak with relief, Gessen struggled to stay calm. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’

Ismail folded his arms. ‘And now you’ve found me.’ He waited while Gessen trotted over, as if this infuriating lad were in charge and his doctor was nothing more than a well-trained lackey. Ismail patted his pockets for the cigarettes he wouldn’t find. Though he’d been offered nicotine patches, he complained bitterly that not only was he robbed of his freedom, but also one of his greatest pleasures. What was next? Coffee? Food and water?

‘I’m just glad to see you’re all right,’ Gessen said, chest heaving, as he tried to project a professionalism he didn’t feel. What he felt like doing was giving the lad a good thrashing.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Ismail brushed a dried leaf from his sleeve. ‘What are you doing out here, anyway? Don’t we have a session or something?’ He turned on his heel and headed across the lawn in the direction of the manor house.

Gessen followed doggedly behind, reluctant to say anything more lest he set the boy off. His heart ticked oddly as he tried to keep up. A close call. Not something he wished to repeat. And where, during all the excitement, was Ismail’s personal bodyguard? A man named Sendak, courtesy of Ismail’s father, whom Gessen passed off to the staff as a new groundsman. Wasn’t the man paid to keep Ismail out of harm’s way? After this latest show of rebellion, it might be best to have someone on his own payroll to watch Ismail around the clock. A glorified minder, as a backup to the useless bodyguard. Another expense he couldn’t afford.

* * *