“He’d find out what time the plane was landing,” said Anna. “So the first thing I need to do—”
“The first thing you need to do is have a shower, while I find out what time the plane lands and also what Leapman’s up to,” said Tina, as she stood up. “Because one thing’s for sure, they won’t let you pick up anything from the airport looking like that.”
Anna drained her coffee and followed Tina out into the corridor. Tina opened the bathroom door and looked closely at her friend. “See you in about—” she hesitated “—an hour.”
Anna laughed for the first time that day.
Anna slowly peeled off her clothes and dropped them in a heap on the floor. She glanced in the mirror to see a reflection of someone she had never met before. She removed the silver chain from round her neck and placed it on the side of the bath, next to the model of a yacht. She finally took off her watch. It had stopped at eight forty-six. A few seconds later and she would have been in the elevator.
As Anna stepped into the shower, she began to consider Tina’s audacious plan. She turned on both taps and allowed the water to cascade down on her for some time before she even thought about washing. She watched the water turn from black to gray, but however hard she scrubbed, the water still remained gray. Anna continued scrubbing until her skin was red and sore, before turning her attention to a bottle of shampoo. She didn’t emerge from the shower until she’d washed her hair three times, but it was going to be days before anyone realized that she was a natural blonde. Anna didn’t bother to dry herself; she bent down, put the plug in the bath, and turned on the taps. As she lay soaking, her mind revisited all that had taken place that day.
She thought about how many friends and colleagues she must have lost and realized just how lucky she was to be alive. But mourning would have to wait, if she was to have any chance of rescuing Victoria from a slower death.
Anna’s thoughts were interrupted by Tina knocking on the door. She walked in and sat on the end of the bath. “A definite improvement,” she said with a smile, as she looked at Anna’s newly scrubbed body.
“I’ve been thinking about your idea,” said Anna, “and if I could—”
“Change of plan,” said Tina. “It’s just been announced by the FAA that all aircraft across America have been grounded until further notice and no incoming flights will be allowed to land, so by now the Van Gogh will be on its way back to Heathrow.”
“Then I’ll need to call Victoria immediately,” said Anna, “and tell her to instruct Ruth Parish to return the painting to Wentworth Hall.”
“Agreed,” said Tina, “but I’ve just realized that Fenston has lost something even more important than the Monet.”
“What could be more important to him than the Monet?” asked Anna.
“His contract with Victoria, and all the other paperwork that proves he owns the Van Gogh along with the rest of the Wentworth estate should she fail to clear the debt.”
“But didn’t you keep backups?” asked Anna.
Tina hesitated. “Yes,” she said, “in a safe in Fenston’s office.”
“But don’t forget that Victoria will also be in possession of all the relevant documents.”
Tina paused again. “Not if she was willing to destroy them.”
“Victoria would never agree to that,” said Anna.
“Why don’t you phone her and find out? If she did feel able to, it would give you more than enough time to sell the Van Gogh and clear the debt with Fenston, before he could do anything about it.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Tina.
“I don’t have her number. Her file is in my office, and I’ve lost everything, including my cell phone and Palm Pilot, even my wallet.”
“I’m sure international directories can solve that problem,” suggested Tina. “Why don’t you dry yourself and put on a bathrobe? We can sort out some clothes later.”
“Thank you,” said Anna, gripping her by the hand.
“You might not thank me when you find out what you’re having for lunch. Mind you, I wasn’t expecting a guest, so you’ll have to make do with leftover Chinese.”
“Sounds great,” said Anna, as she stepped out of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around her.
“See you in a couple of minutes,” said Tina, “by which time the microwave should have completely finished off my gourmet offering.” She turned to leave.
“Tina, can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Why do you continue to work for Fenston, when you obviously detest the man as much as I do?”
Tina hesitated. “Anything but that,” she eventually replied. She closed the door quietly behind her.
14
Ruth Parish picked up her outside line.
“Hi, Ruth,” said a familiar voice, about to deliver an unfamiliar message. “It’s Ken Lane over at United, just to let you know that our flight 107, bound for New York, has been ordered to turn back, and we’re expecting it to touch down at Heathrow in about an hour.”
“But why?” asked Ruth.
“Details are a bit sketchy at the moment,” Ken admitted, “but reports coming out of JFK suggest there’s been a terrorist attack on the Twin Towers. All U.S. airports have been ordered to ground their planes, and won’t be allowing any incoming flights until further notice.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Around one thirty our time. You must have been at lunch. You can get an update on any news station. They’re all carrying it.”
Ruth picked up the remote control from her desk and pointed it toward the TV screen.
“Will you be putting the Van Gogh in storage?” asked Ken, “or do you want us to return it to Wentworth Hall?”
“It certainly won’t be going back to Wentworth,” said Ruth. “I’ll lock the painting up in one of our customs-free zones overnight and then put it on the first available flight to New York once JFK lifts the restrictions.” Ruth paused. “Will you confirm an ETA about thirty minutes before your plane is due to touch down so I can have one of my trucks standing by?”
“Will do,” said Ken.
Ruth replaced the receiver and glanced up at the TV. She tapped out the number 501 on her remote control. The first image she saw was a plane flying into the South Tower.
Now she understood why Anna hadn’t returned her call.
As Anna dried herself, she began to speculate on what possible reason Tina could have to go on working for Fenston. She found herself shaking her head. After all, Tina was bright enough to pick up a far better job.
She pulled on her friend’s bathrobe and slippers, placed the key on its chain back around her neck and put on her one-time watch. She looked at herself in the mirror; the outward façade had considerably improved, but Anna still felt queasy whenever she thought about what she had been through only a few hours before. She wondered for how many days, months, years it would be a recurring nightmare.
She opened the bathroom door and maneuvered her way down the corridor, avoiding the ashy footprints she’d left on the carpet. When she walked into the kitchen, Tina stopped laying the table and handed over her cell phone.
“Time to call Victoria and warn her what you’re up to.”
“What am I up to?” asked Anna.
“For starters, ask her if she knows where the Van Gogh is.”
“Locked up in a customs-free zone at Heathrow would be my bet, but there’s only one way to find out.” Anna dialed 00.
“International operator.”