Sean’s eyes flicked to mine again. Eamonn? I wouldn’t give him an answer.
“They hit him?” Paxo said, sounding puzzled. “But we thought he must have been in it with them.”
“No way,” Gleet said. “I saw them hit him and it wasn’t no friendly tap, neither. He went down like a sack of spuds.”
“And what happened to you?”
“I hopped off the bike and waded in, like,” Gleet said, rueful. “Should have waited until they put that damned stick away first, though. Took one on my arm, first whack, then got lamped round the back of the head and that was me out of it. Next thing I knew, you lot were standing over me.”
“We still don’t know why they were taking him – or where,” Sean said, almost to himself. He glanced at me. “If they were going to kill him, why bother to take him with them at all?”
“They don’t seem too fussed about leaving a trail behind them,” I agreed.
“Oh, I don’t think they were out to kill him,” Gleet said and all eyes turned in his direction. “Well, just as the first bloke clouted Jamie, the other one grabbed his mate’s arm and yanked it back, like. Told him to ‘go steady’ or ‘go easy’, something like that. I didn’t catch it right. Sorry.”
So, who would want the kid in one piece? Sean’s gaze flicked towards me and I saw the same answer that had been forming in my mind.
His mother.
“It’s got to be,” Sean said, as though I’d spoken out loud.
“Shit,” I muttered, suddenly replaying the conversations I’d had with Jacob since we’d arrived in Ireland. His questions. My answers. I’d kept him up to speed and thought no more about it. “Isobel must have made a deal with Eamonn. And I know just how she’s been getting her intel.”
“You weren’t to know, Charlie,” Sean said, almost without censure.
Paxo had been following the brief discussion backwards and forwards like a tennis fan, scowling. “Hang on. Are you trying to tell us that Jamie sold us out to his mother?” he said, voice rising. “The little shit.”
“I don’t think so,” Sean said. “They thumped him and chucked him in the back of a van. Hardly the way you’d treat a co-conspirator, is it?”
“So why have they taken him?” William asked.
“I’ve no idea,” I said, grim. “But I think I might know someone who can answer that.”
I crossed to the phone and followed the instructions for dialling out international. Everyone’s eyes were riveted on me, with the exception of Gleet. He’d allowed his head to sag back against the pillows and his eyelids had sunk into a doze like someone had flicked a switch.
“Who are you calling?” Paxo demanded as the call connected and rang in my other ear. “Come on, Charlie, don’t—”
I held my hand up to silence him as the phone was picked up at the other end.
“Hi Jacob,” I said. I was aiming for a light tone but my voice came out tight and ever so slightly angry. Which was hardly surprising, given the circumstances.
“Charlie!” Jacob said, sounding just as tense. “What’s happening?”
“We were rather hoping,” I said, “that you could tell us that.”
He paused a fraction too long. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. “Just let me talk to Isobel,” I said tiredly. “I know she’s there. Just tell her the courier’s dead, Tess is dead, and Eamonn’s boys have taken Jamie, but that if she thinks that cold-hearted bastard is going to let the boy live after what he’s seen, she’s kidding herself.”
For a whole five seconds I stood there clutching a silent telephone then Jacob said, quiet and subdued, “Hold on a moment,” and all the background noise at his end abruptly disappeared.
I closed my eyes briefly. I suppose that right up until that point I’d been hoping Jacob would blow up at me again for getting it all wrong. Instead all I felt was the stab of betrayal in my side, like a vicious stitch.
There was some crackling at the other end of the line. “Jamie is Isobel’s son as much as mine. I’d no right to keep her out of it,” Jacob said then, his voice sounding more distant, echoing. “I’ve put it on speakerphone. Go ahead, Charlie. Isobel’s right here.”
“Have you told her what’s happened?”
“Yes,” Isobel’s voice sounded uncharacteristically wavery. She seemed to take a breath and said, more firmly, “Yes, he has.”
“I don’t know what kind of a deal you cut with Eamonn, or what promises he’s made you, Isobel,” I said, harsh, “but he won’t keep them. He can’t. As soon as he’s got what he wants, your son is history.” I paused, and couldn’t resist adding, “And you as well, probably.”
Even the poor reproduction of the phone system couldn’t hide the gasp my words provoked, although I couldn’t have told you which of Jamie’s parents it came from. But it was Jacob who said, hesitantly, “Can you . . . do anything?”
“We can try,” I said. I looked up, met Sean’s gaze and took what I needed from it. I shut my eyes briefly. Maybe there were times when Sean was in danger of being close to the monster my father claimed, but who else would be so willing to walk with me into situations like this without balking? “We need to know where they’re taking him.”
“I don’t know,” Isobel said, faltering. “Eamonn didn’t tell me exactly what he had planned. Just that he was going to take the diamonds after the courier had handed them over.”
“Well, the poor bloke didn’t exactly hand them over. They had to cut his throat first,” I snapped, infuriated by her vagueness. “Come on, think, Isobel! You know the man. Where is Eamonn likely to have taken Jamie?”
“Erm, well, he has an industrial unit at a place just north of Newry. Used to be a farm,” she said. There was a reluctance to her, as though she was still loathe to sell Eamonn out, in spite of everything. But once she’d begun the words seemed to pick up their own momentum and she gave me detailed directions on how to find it. “But you wouldn’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of getting in there unannounced,” she added, more like her old brisk self. “It’s out in the middle of nowhere, isolated. You can see anyone approaching over a mile away. And he won’t be alone.”
I thought of the men we’d seen following us from the ferry. Were they the same ones Gleet had encountered, or did Eamonn have more muscle at his disposal?
I covered the receiver and relayed the information to Sean. He shook his head.
“We haven’t got the time or the equipment to mount an assault,” he said. “Our best chance is to take them on the road.” He checked his watch. “They’ve nearly an hour head start on us but if they’ve any sense they won’t want to risk getting stopped for speeding.” He flashed me a quick hard grin. “If we don’t hang about we should be able to catch them before they hit the border.”