Sasha placed her free hand on his shoulder.
‘Kat didn’t come to any harm,’ she said. ‘She’s happy now.’
Oleg glanced up. As he did so, the toddler waved what was left of the tofu block at him.
‘What is that?’ he asked, and took it from her. ‘Should she be eating this? Should anyone?’
‘Let me get rid of that for you,’ Sasha said hurriedly, and reached out to take it from him.
Oleg responded by drawing his hand from her reach. He held it close to his nose, before taking a very slight nibble.
‘It’s a bean curd,’ he said, grimacing slightly. ‘A meat substitute.’
A sense of unease began to rise in Sasha. She looked at Katya, as if hoping the toddler might provide her with an explanation, and then back at her grandfather. He didn’t look upset, however. Just puzzled and even curious. All manner of excuses jumped into Sasha’s head, but somehow nothing seemed to fit. It just felt wrong to lie to a man of his years. She only had to look in his eyes to know that he was awaiting the truth. With her heart stirring, Sasha took a breath and heard her own voice break the silence.
‘I like the taste,’ she said. ‘Actually, I like it a lot.’
Jack Greenway held the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He glanced in the rear view mirror and cursed.
‘The van’s still with us,’ he muttered, and shifted up a gear. ‘What would anyone want with a kid like you?’
Ivan sat in the passenger seat, his sightline just higher than the dashboard.
‘I’m twelve years old,’ he said. ‘For some men, that makes me kind of hot.’
Jack glanced at his passenger and frowned.
‘So, what do you suggest?’ he asked. ‘Every turn I take, he’s right there behind us. If I take you home, he’ll know where you live.’
‘How about we go to your place?’
‘Then he’ll know where I live!’ Jack swung left without indicating. ‘It’s you he wants, Ivan. I’m just doing you a favour here.’
‘No,’ said Ivan to correct him. ‘I’m helping you out by keeping quiet about your lunch date.’
Jack grimaced to himself.
‘It isn’t what you think,’ he said.
‘What am I thinking?’ asked Ivan, staring straight ahead.
‘You know. That somehow I’m cheating on your sister by sharing a pizza with a friend.’
‘A friend.’ Ivan smiled to himself. ‘Right.’
Jack checked the rear view mirror once again.
‘Do we have to discuss it now?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t it more important that we lose this guy? Let’s not forget that I could’ve just kept my head down when you walked passed. Had I ignored you, chances are right now you’d be at the foot of a pit in that man’s cellar in the dress he’d ordered you to wear.’
‘Let me try my dad again,’ said Ivan, and pulled out his mobile. ‘He makes mincemeat out of creeps like this.’
Jack concentrated on driving while Ivan made the call. Once again, however, the line went to answer machine. Up ahead, a set of traffic lights turned from green to amber.
‘We’re not going to make it,’ muttered Jack.
‘Then put your foot down!’ Ivan urged. ‘It’s our big chance!’
The hybrid could pack a punch. Jack knew that. He was also well aware that jumping lights could lead to a car wreck, not to mention points on his licence and the very real possibility that his father would refuse to pay the increase in insurance. So, rather than floor the accelerator pedal, he coasted to a halt as the lights switched to red. The engine cut out automatically, which left the pair sitting in tense silence.
‘The van is three cars back,’ Jack whispered, as if fearing he might be overheard. He reached for the mirror, turning it slightly for a better look. ‘OK, so now the driver’s door has just opened. The guy is getting out.’ He stopped there and faced Ivan. The boy looked as terrified as he felt.
‘Do something,’ said Ivan.
‘Like what?’ Jack’s voice rose in pitch.
‘Sacrifice yourself.’ Tightening his eyes into a penetrating stare, Ivan held his phone between them. ‘Sacrifice yourself or the next call goes to my sister.’
20
Earlier, while waiting for the boy to leave the school grounds, Vernon English had bought himself lunch. Parked in the high street, he’d been spoiled for choice. A club sandwich had been tempting, along with a flapjack and a bottle of real lemonade, but with a long afternoon ahead he’d opted for something more filling.
The steak and ale pasty had just come out of the oven. There was no way Vernon could’ve eaten the thing until it cooled considerably, and so he had placed it on the passenger seat. The van had quickly filled with an aroma that made his mouth water. He reached for the wrapper a couple of times, only to pull away on feeling the volcanic heat through his fingertips.
‘I wanted something to eat,’ he grumbled at one point. ‘Not a sample of the earth’s core.’
By the time the private investigator sighted Ivan, and started the engine to trail him, his pasty remained untouched. His plan was to stay with the boy just to see where it led him. If the Savage children were involved in the death of the model, he had decided, then surely they would be struggling. Their parents might’ve been able to play things coolly, as if nothing had happened, but it was different for kids. At that age, you’d have to tell someone. You just couldn’t live without that kind of thing in your head. It would spill out at some point. Vernon felt pretty confident as he pulled out after Ivan. The kid was the key to all this, he felt sure. He had been in the house on the day of the shoot, unlike his older sister, which made him Vernon’s primary person of interest.
That the boy quickly realised he was being followed came as no surprise to the private investigator.
‘You’re bound to be paranoid,’ said Vernon, who had seen it all before. ‘It’s what happens when you carry around a guilty secret.’
He made no attempt to back off. In his experience, keeping up the pressure like this simply made it more likely that the kid would crack and confess. On seeing Ivan pass the pizza place, only to wheel around as Sasha’s boyfriend bundled out in a state of some animation, Vernon pulled up smartly in the van. Was Jack Greenway in on it, too? What was with the drama? With his eyes fixed on the pair, Vernon reached across for his pasty. He found the packet on the seat, and then dropped it again as if he’d just discovered it was wired to the vehicle’s battery.
‘For crying out loud!’ he growled, and flapped his hand until the pain eased. ‘You could fuel a power station with this!’
Having his lunch right beside him, seemingly superheated, was beginning to place Vernon in a foul mood. He was hungry, irritable, and also distracted, he realised, on looking back at the pizza place. Luckily, he caught sight of the pair as they headed for the little car park behind the building. He waited for the hybrid to edge out, and then let several cars pass before tailing it. Even if the pair knew they were being followed, he didn’t want them to recognise him. Every now and then, he would test the pasty on the passenger seat. Each time it felt a little cooler, in that it wouldn’t now turn an ocean to steam. Eventually, on reaching a set of traffic lights, Vernon found that he could actually hold it in one hand without having to make a beeline to the hospital burn’s unit.
‘This had better be worth it,’ he muttered, and eased the top of the pasty from the packet. With one hand grasping the wheel still, Vernon chewed off a generous corner. His teeth sunk through the pastry crust, which was now bearable. Unfortunately for Vernon, it also insulated what felt to him just then like a filling made from molten lava. Instinctively, he spat it out against the windscreen. The gravy was just as hot, as he discovered a second later as it slopped onto his lap, followed by chunks of steak. ‘Get off me!’ he cried and tried to swat away what could have been hot coals dropping on him. With his mouth, hands and crotch on fire, or at least that’s how it felt to him, the private investigator went into panic. Despite the fact that the traffic lights were about to turn from red to green, he snapped off his seat belt, threw open the car door and jumped out while attempting to hold the front the fabric of his trousers away from his skin.