I didn’t want the poor kid being interrogated, so I answered for her. ‘Yes, she is, Tom. I had to tell Janet eventually, because I couldn’t keep the secret any longer. I should have told you at the same time.’
He frowned at me. ‘I thought we didn’t have secrets, Mum,’ he said, the equivalent of a sharp jab to the solar plexus.
I wanted to hug him and tell him that we didn’t, but if I’d tried that I knew damn well he’d just have shaken me off. So I did a girlie thing: I gave him the big doe eyes, bit my lip and murmured, ‘I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘You thought it was best.’ An acceptance of sorts. ‘Come on, Mum,’ he said, more gently, ‘let’s you and I go back home. We’ll probably find him hiding behind Conrad; that’s what he usually does when he’s in a mood. Janet, you should wait here with Liam, just in case he’s off sulking some place we haven’t checked and decides to come back eventually. If he does, don’t be angry with him; that won’t help.’
Twelve years old and he was firing out orders like an adult; and none of us even thought of questioning them. Instead, I pulled my shorts on, picked up my shoes and set off after him as before. Charlie made his own choice and followed, his lead trailing behind him.
We kept our eyes open as we crossed the beach and passed the dodgy toilet, but saw no lone child, not even any accompanied, that gave us a moment’s pause. Once we reached the path, Tom broke into a jog, with Charlie on a short lead, and I followed suit, keeping pace with him, my flip-flops still in my hand, for they would have been worse than useless. If he’d wanted, he and the dog could have run away from me, but he bore my years in mind, another sign that he was well in control of himself.
I had to put my flip-flops on when we reached St Martí. It was only then I realised that I’d left my keys in my bag on the beach. If Conrad had gone out … and wee Jonathan had come home, we’d probably find him on the front step, or, him being him, holed up in Charlie’s kennel.
But we didn’t. There was no dark-haired kid moping at the door, and the doghouse was unoccupied. Conrad hadn’t gone out either. We found him in the kitchen, seated at the table, working at his laptop. ‘Hi,’ he greeted us. ‘I’m emailing the housekeeper in Monaco, telling her to get the place ready for a full invasion tomorrow morning. Audrey asked me to phone her, but she’s out.’ Then he looked at us properly. ‘What’s up?’
‘Has wee Jonathan come back here?’ I asked him.
‘No,’ he replied, his tone turning the negative into a question.
‘He’s vanished,’ I told him, then explained what had happened.
‘Jesus!’ Conrad exploded. ‘Primavera! He’s been snatched. Primavera, you know how careful we have to be. I only let you go without me because Matthews was with you. Matthews! Bloody showbiz wrestler! I will kill him.’ I believe that he meant it. I stared at him, not knowing what to say when …
‘No, Conrad!’
The voice that came from behind me could only have belonged to one person, and yet it wasn’t him. It was deep, it was full, it was unmistakable and it was impossible. It was Oz’s voice. In the crisis, Tom had metamorphosed into his father, and if there was a single person in the world who could command the very formidable Conrad Kent, it was him.
‘It wasn’t Mum’s fault,’ he continued, in a tone that was more like his own, but not quite, with a serious edge to it. ‘It wasn’t Liam’s fault. It was mine. He told me he was going back to them and I didn’t take him, I let him go on his own, only he didn’t. So don’t be angry with Liam … and don’t ever shout at my mum again!’
Wow! I couldn’t love him any more than I do, but that put the cherry on it. He’d just nailed Conrad’s balls to the wall, and calmed him down in the process. ‘I’m sorry, Primavera,’ he murmured. ‘Tom’s right; that was uncalled for.’
‘And it’s forgotten, but tell me, why did you think automatically that he’s been taken?’
Conrad frowned and glanced at Tom, as if he was trying to give me a message.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that I have to hide from my son, so shoot.’
‘There is,’ he countered, ‘but I’ll go this far. Two years ago I was warned that a group of English chancers were in Monaco, ostensibly on holiday, but in fact planning to snatch one of Oz and Susie’s kids and hold them for ransom. I was able to head it off.’
‘Well done the police,’ I said.
‘It had nothing to do with them. The tip came from a mafia kingpin; he approached me and told me about it. He said that the English team had approached a couple of his friends for help. It was a big mistake on their part. The mafia don’t approve of things like that, for two reasons: one, they have respect for children; and two, they wouldn’t do anything that would draw the kind of heat on them that a high-profile kidnap would bring. So they dealt with the problem.’
I didn’t ask how; Conrad was right in that Tom didn’t need to hear what I knew would be the answer. Instead, I asked him, ‘Why did he tell you about it?’
‘It was probably his way of letting Susie know that she was in their debt, but I didn’t tell her about it. I don’t plan to either.’
‘So these could be the same people?’ Tom suggested. He hadn’t picked up on the fact that the mafia don’t let people do encores.
‘Or similar,’ Conrad replied.
‘In which case, I don’t have any links to the local underworld,’ I told him, ‘but I am well in with the cops.’
I didn’t waste any time. I called Alex Guinart on his mobile, straight away. ‘Hey,’ he said as he answered, a smile in his voice, ‘sexy lady. How did your evening go, or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘No, you shouldn’t because this is serious.’
‘You want to make that complaint now? Couldn’t it-’
‘Bugger that! This is different.’ I told him what had happened and about Conrad’s suspicions.
He was all business, straight away. ‘Kidnapping would be unusual in this part of Spain. In the south, and around the Mediterranean, much less so. The first thing to do is set up roadblocks, and search the immediate area. Do you have a recent photograph of the child?’
‘Yes, on my computer. Tom and his sister are in it, but it’s only a week old.’
‘Then email it to me, and I’ll circulate it right away. Where are you?’
‘I’m at home, with Tom and Conrad. Liam and Janet are still on the beach, in case he shows up.’
‘Liam?’
‘The man you saw me with last night. If he had turned up, he or Janet would have called me.’
There followed a few seconds of silence. ‘This Liam, when did he arrive here?’
‘A couple of days ago.’
‘And now the child has disappeared. And you’ve left him on the beach with the other one?’
The enormity of what he was suggesting made me gasp. I turned my back on Conrad so that he couldn’t see my face and pick anything up from it. We were speaking Catalan, and he’d get nothing from that. ‘Forget that,’ I hissed. ‘He was one of Oz’s best friends, and I’ve known him for years myself.’
‘But you haven’t seen him for years either?’
‘No, but what you’re suggesting-’
‘I’m not suggesting anything,’ Alex said. ‘I’m only establishing facts. Send me that email, Primavera. There are two routes from where the boy was last seen; I’ll put blocks on those straight away and get his likeness to the people who are manning them. But we’ll need more than that; we have to search the surrounding area.’
‘In case he’s hiding there?’ I asked naively. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’
I heard an intake of breath. ‘No, Primavera; not in case he’s hiding.’
‘Oh,’ I murmured.
‘I would like you and Tom to go back along there. Your man Conrad, the children’s guardian, have him remain at your house. Tell him he’s manning the phones or any other pretext. I know what he is, and I know what he’s capable of. If the boy has been taken and we find him with someone, I don’t want him around.’
‘Understood.’