‘Over his shoulder? Was she unconscious?’
‘Looked like it, they said.’
‘Do we have a description of this man?’ asked Hunter.
Cyril flipped his notepad open. ‘Beige cord jacket, jeans. Big bastard, built like a rugby player. Long curly red hair.’
‘They get the registration number?’ Hunter was thinking that the description Cyril had just given sounded very much like the guy who had bombed out Annie Carter’s car a couple of weeks ago.
‘They did. And we found the car, abandoned in a lane in Essex.’
‘Prints?’ he asked.
‘Yep. And we’ve got a match on the system: Rufus Malone. Irish hard case, been all over the bloody world by all accounts. Done time in his youth, nothing recent.’ The Super blew out his cheeks. ‘This is a criminal act – an abduction.’
Hunter looked at him. ‘But we’ve been warned off. We can’t touch this.’
‘We can’t let our citizens be snatched off the street, either.’
‘Out of the house, anyway.’
‘You know what I mean. The car’s a rental, we’re waiting for further verification on his ID with Avis.’
‘But we can’t get involved.’
‘No. Technically speaking, we can’t.’
A fear had been eating at Annie, chiselling away at her composure, ever since Orla Delaney had bludgeoned her way back into her world. She had tried not to voice it aloud, because that would make it real and even more terrifying. But that fear was enveloping her now, snatching the breath from her throat, stealing away what little composure remained to her.
That fear was…
Oh shit, no, I can’t think it, I mustn’t…
That fear was that he would be waiting for her at the end of this journey.
Redmond Delaney.
If Orla was alive, then he could be too. She shivered as the words trickled through her mind, corrosive as liquid poison.
No, Redmond was dead. He was meant to die.
But then – so was Orla. And she had come back from the grave, started up this whole mad thing that was now playing out to its bitter end.
Annie closed her eyes, tried to blank the fear out. But it was too strong.
Maybe she was the one who was meant to die. Maybe, after all these years, Redmond was finally going to have his revenge.
‘He gave false ID,’ said the Super. ‘To the car hire people. Banged it up a bit too, they’re not happy.’
Hunter leaned back against the closed office door and gazed out through the half-open Venetian blinds at the darkening sky and the drizzling rain, seeing nothing.
‘Funny-looking fucker. Like the Wild Man of Borneo,’ said the Super.
Red hair, same as Orla and Redmond Delaney, thought Hunter.
‘You got the word out on the ports and airports?’ he asked.