‘What about…?’ groped McBride, unable to say the words. ‘Would they have…?’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Claudine. ‘The message does mean they’ve turned it into an abduction. As long as it remains that, there’s a possibility she’ll be safe… safe in every way.’ It wasn’t the absolute truth but it wasn’t an absolute lie, either. But there was no purpose in reducing to total despair people who had already lost their child, perhaps for ever. Destroying one man, as she feared she was destroying John Norris, was more than enough. The thin American had brought his head up to look at her again, his face fixed. Several times, as she talked, Harding and Rampling had nodded, as if in acceptance. So had the legal attache. She assessed Burt Harrison’s face-twisted frown to be both an acknowledgement of her judgement and disgust at what it meant. The ambassador was as crumpled as his wife, his whole body seeming to wither, a man – a father – brought face to face with the most unthinkable horror.
Desperately McBride said: ‘You could be wrong! You could be the one misunderstanding!’
‘It’s my job not to be,’ replied Claudine. ‘And I don’t think I am.’
‘We’ve got a kidnap situation, which has always been my opinion,’ persisted Norris. His voice was still cracked.
‘There are young sexual deviants – juveniles even – but the people holding Mary are adult,’ predicted Claudine, ignoring the other profiler. ‘There’s an intellectualism – almost a sophistication – in their message that young people wouldn’t have. And there is access to money, going beyond the obvious of a car’s being involved. There’s access to a house or somewhere where Mary can be held prisoner, without fear of discovery. And there’s a high degree of computer literacy…’ She hesitated, her throat jagged, the strain of what had become a virtual lecture beginning to pull at her. ‘The one message that’s been received isn’t an initial kidnap approach. It’s a challenge. How we balance that challenge – and I really do mean balance – entirely determines our chances of saving Mary.’
Claudine paused again, looking at Norris. She’d had to be brutal, she convinced herself. It was nothing personaclass="underline" certainly nothing done to impress anyone. And definitely not Peter Blake. From the ambassador’s very obvious anguish Claudine was sure, quite apart from whatever censure might officially come from Washington, that it was time to attempt whatever flimsy bridge was possible with Norris. She said: ‘That’s why there can only be one finely focused negotiating stance. And one set of negotiators. Work independently and you’ll never get Mary back intact.’ She began looking among the Americans arrayed before her but abruptly stopped: that was performing! Uncomfortable with the realization, but sticking with her point, Claudine said: ‘Your decision, ambassador. I believe you’ve only got one, which is the one we’re asking you to make. Do you want to get Mary back, alive at least, horrifying as the implications of that question are? Or do you want your law enforcement agencies to go on working independently?’ She allowed a gap. ‘Our way, there’s a chance. Your way there isn’t.’
There was, momentarily, another chilled silence. Then Norris began to speak, but once again McBride quietened the man with an impatient gesture. It was Hillary who said: ‘For God’s sake, shut up!’
McBride said: ‘There’s been a bad misunderstanding. For which I apologize. Now it’s been corrected: nothing will again be attempted independently. You have my word. But I want yours. Can you get our daughter back, alive at least?’
‘Yes,’ blurted Norris at once.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Claudine.
‘I want you to lead the negotiations,’ McBride told Claudine. He turned to the FBI man beside him. ‘Do you understand?’
Norris was unable to reply for several moments. ‘Yes,’ he managed at last.
As Claudine had anticipated, the press conference was frenetic. She had also anticipated, correctly, that by the time it began the e-mail appeal would have been discovered by the already alerted media, and advised McBride and Sanglier to respond to every question in the apparent belief that Mary’s disappearance was a ransom-motivated kidnap, with no sexual implication. There was fractionally more time for her to prepare them than Andre Poncellet, who ascended the light-whitened platform more relieved than confused by her urging, which he accepted without argument, that he should let the other two men take the majority of the questions, restricting himself to agreeing with whatever undertaking they gave.
He wanted to hear from those who held his daughter, declared a choke-voiced McBride, his wife rigid-faced beside him. He was prepared to negotiate. He pleaded for Mary not to be harmed in any way. Towards the end he cried, openly and unashamedly, accepting Hillary’s offered hand. Claudine was delighted because the helplessness was so genuine and conveyed exactly the impression she wanted: that whoever held Mary was in total control, able at a finger snap – or rather a keyboard tap – to manipulate not just the nations of the European Union but America as well.
John Norris understood everything. He’d underestimated the woman, who was activated entirely by jealousy – envy of his reputation and ability – and had managed to mislead everybody. Only a temporary setback: a mistake of stupid people traumatized by the loss of a daughter. Have to put it right, of course. He had a child to save. The woman could even be part of it. The idea settled in his mind. That was brilliant, her being part of it. Deceiving everyone. Everyone except him. Because he was cleverer than any of them. Cleverer than her, certainly. This could be his best case, proving that she was involved. Wouldn’t be easy. Have to put a squad on her; strip her down to the bone. That was the way. Always was. Discover their secrets. Everyone broke down, confessed, when they were confronted with their secrets. Play it cleverly, though. Don’t let her know that he knew. Go along with everything while he had her checked out: got to the secrets. Then save Mary. He’d get her back. He knew all about kidnapping. Knew the way their minds worked. Knew the way everybody’s mind worked. That’s what he was. A mind-reader. Don’t worry, Mary. I’m coming. I’ll save you. No one else but me.
Norris sensed Claudine’s attention, switching from the closed circuit television upon which they’d watched the conference.
‘I thought that went very well, didn’t you?’ she said, attempting some rapport.
‘Let’s see what the next message is.’
Claudine turned to face him. ‘Let’s talk about what we’re going to do,’ she said urgently. ‘Talk to me about how you’re thinking: what you’re thinking. We both know she’ll die if we don’t. Let’s try to save her, together.’
‘You’re right,’ said Norris. ‘We’ve got to save her together.’ If he told her what he was thinking she’d know and then she could tell the others who had Mary. She might be able to fool everybody else but she couldn’t fool him.
The Justice Minister himself, Miet Ulieff, greeted the delegation. By unspoken agreement it was Peter Blake, not the weary Claudine, who for the benefit of the ten assembled Belgian officials repeated what they believed to have happened to Mary Beth McBride. He said nothing about the FBI dispute, which had also been kept from Andre Poncellet. The impression was that everything had come from the closest liaison between Europol and the Americans.
‘I want to be kept in the closest touch with every aspect of this investigation,’ announced Ulieff when Blake finished. ‘I’m therefore appointing a member of my legal staff to work permanently alongside Commissioner Poncellet until this poor child is recovered.’ He turned, gesturing a man forward. ‘Allow me to introduce Jean Smet.’
Thanks to the communication system he had introduced John Norris was able to read the messages the ambassador sent to both the State Department and Bureau headquarters, and from the cables that came in personally directed to him later that day he realized the Europol commissioner hadn’t been bluffing about making a direct complaint to Washington, either. He responded, as was required, with the assurance of total future cooperation with Europol, but with the reminder that by initially working independently he had been following not just his instructions before leaving Washington but the ambassador’s clearly expressed wishes, too.