Kolchinsky took the paper carefully from Whitlock. 'This is against the law, you know.'
'So is keeping files on the relatives of UN AGO personnel,' Whitlock replied poker-faced. 'Have you got a copy of Rosie's prints?'
'No, but it won't be difficult to get them. Now go on home.'
'Call me tonight if the lab boys come up with something,' Whitlock said then climbed into the back of the car.
Kolchinsky closed the door behind him then slapped the roof. The driver pulled away and moments later the Mercedes was swallowed up in the evening traffic. Kolchinsky looked back as the first of the bodies was loaded into one of the ambulances then turned away and walked towards his car.
Rosie woke with a splitting headache. She was lying on a single bed in a small room with a chest of drawers, an armchair and a small basin by the window. The curtains were drawn. She swung her legs slowly off the bed then sat forward, her face in her hands. It was then that she smelled the chloroform on her clothes. Then it all came back to her, a terrifying flashback: the two policemen; Kenny; then the blow on the back of the head.
When she had come round in the flat the man she knew as Marc had finished packing his belongings and the holdall and attache case stood by the front door. He had been sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up in front of him, watching her. The automatic hung loosely in his right hand. He had told her that they were going to walk down to the street together where a car would be waiting for them. Any attempt to draw attention to themselves and he would kill her. After all, he had nothing to lose.
He had draped the jacket over his gun hand and carried the attache case in the other. She had to carry the holdall. He had kept the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against her ribs until they reached the car parked in front of the building. The driver was a black man she had never seen before. The two men had spoken a language she didn't understand, then she was bundled into the back of the car and a chloroform-soaked cloth had been clamped over her face. That was the last thing she remembered. Until now. She didn't know where she was or how long she had been there. She rubbed her temples gingerly, trying to massage away the pain. What she would give for a headache tablet. She switched on the bedside lamp then got to her feet and moved to the door. It was locked. Then she went to the window. She drew back the curtains. A pair of shutters had been secured over the window. She tried to open the window. It was stuck. She tried again. It wouldn't budge. She looked about for something to break the glass. There wasn't anything. She checked the chest of drawers — empty. She slumped dejectedly on the bed and struggled to hold back the tears. Suddenly there was the sound of a key being inserted in the door. It was unlocked and opened. Bernard entered the room and sat down in the armchair.
'Where am I?' Rosie demanded.
'Safe,' Bernard replied with a smile then glanced across at the chest of drawers. 'That was good thinking, looking for something to break the window, but it wouldn't have done you any good anyway. It's reinforced glass.'
'How did…' she trailed off and looked about the room before glaring at Bernard. 'Where's the camera?'
'Behind the mirror,' Bernard said, gesturing towards it.
'You're sick,' she snapped then winced as a sharp pain shot through her head.
Bernard held up two aspirin. 'You look like you need these.'
'Go to hell!'
Bernard chuckled. 'I admire your spirit, Rosie. You're quite a kid, you know that?'
'Why are you holding me here?'
Bernard put the tablets on the chest of drawers then got to his feet. 'You're my insurance policy.'
'What are you talking about? Insurance against what?'
'What you don't know won't hurt you. Let's keep it that way. I'd hate to see you end up like your friend Kenny. Strange as it may seem, I like you. You're a good kid. Mixed up, but still a good kid. Take those tablets and come on through to the lounge when you feel better.' Bernard paused in the doorway and looked back at her. 'You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age.' He smiled thoughtfully then disappeared out into the hall.
She moved to the open door but the black man who had driven the car suddenly appeared in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He ran his eyes the length of her body then grinned to himself. She stepped away from the door then went to the chest of drawers and picked up the tablets. She poured some water into the plastic mug on the basin and washed down the aspirin.
Bernard called out to the man. When Rosie looked round he had disappeared from the doorway. She peered cautiously out into the hall. It was deserted. Then she noticed the door at the end of the hall. It had to be the front door. But was it locked? There was only one way of finding out. She could hardly contain her excitement as she hurried towards it. It was only on a Yale lock but when she unlocked it, it only opened a couple of inches. Damn, it was on a chain as well. She hadn't seen that.
'Rosie!' Bernard shouted from the doorway of the lounge.
She didn't look round. She fumbled desperately with the chain, half expecting to be ripped away from the door at any moment. She managed to unhook the chain and waited until he had almost reached her then, sidestepping his outstretched hand, she jerked the door back as hard as she could. The edge caught him in the face and he stumbled back against the wall, blood pouring from a gash above his right eye. She darted out and slammed the door behind her. She found herself on a porch. A wood surrounded the house as far as the eye could see but there was a two-hundred yard clearing before she reached the first of the trees. She bounded down the stairs, ran down the narrow path, and wrenched open the gate before sprinting across the clearing towards the trees.
Bernard pulled open the door and emerged onto the porch. The front of his shirt was already streaked with blood and his sleeve was stained from where he had used it to wipe the blood from his face. The second man appeared behind him and aimed his Walther?38 at Rosie.
Bernard pushed the man's arm down angrily. 'Put the gun away, Elias!' He hurried to the gate and cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Rosie, listen to me. Don't go into the woods. They're full of animal traps.'
She kept running.
'Rosie, don't go in there!'
Elias came up behind Bernard and handed him a torch. 'Animal traps?' he said in hesitant English then closed his hands together to represent the jaws of a trap snapping shut.
'Yes. The wood's full of them. If she stands on one of those it could take her foot off.'
'What can we do?' Elias asked, switching to Arabic.
'We go after her,' Bernard retorted then sprinted towards the section of the woods where he had seen Rosie disappear seconds earlier.
Elias stared after Bernard, reluctant to go near the trees.
Bernard stopped and looked round angrily at Elias. 'Go round the side, cut her off,' he shouted breathlessly then continued to run towards the trees.
Elias swallowed nervously. What was worse, the animal traps or Bernard's wrath if he refused to obey him? It wasn't a difficult choice. He moved towards the trees.
Rosie paused for breath when she reached the edge of the trees. The wood looked dark and forbidding by the light of the moon. She had heard Bernard's warning but had it been a bluff? Or was he telling the truth? She had once seen a television documentary on the appalling injuries incurred by animals who had been caught in these traps. It had left her in tears. She looked back at the approaching silhouette of Bernard. She had to make a decision — and quickly. She had to go on. She picked up a branch then began to move further into the wood, using the branch to prod the ground in front of her. One mistake and she could be crippled for life. If, in fact, there were traps. But she couldn't afford to take the chance. She ducked behind a tree and listened carefully for the sound of Bernard behind her. It was silent. Not that she was surprised. He was obviously a professional. If only she could find somewhere to hide until daybreak. Then she could make her way safely through the wood. She was about to move further in the wood when she saw a light cut through the darkness to her left. She pressed herself against the tree, not daring to even wipe the sweat from her face.