Rufus wasn’t in the room. So where the hell was he? She’d heard him speak to her, but that could have been minutes or hours ago. He was somewhere close by, he had to be, ready to fry her brains again with that damned taser.
She was glancing around now, coming back to full awareness. Her eyes were wide with terror as they moved, searching for a weapon. There was nothing in this room except the table, the chairs.
Was this the place on the marshes?
Her eyes flew to the front door. There had been explosives rigged there last time she was here, but there was nothing now. The other door had a filthy window beside it. It was hanging loose, slightly ajar, on rusted hinges.
That was how it had been when Max spotted the bomb in here.
She could get out. Make a run for it. She braced both hands on the table and pushed herself upright. Then a wave of giddiness hit her and she fell back into the chair. Her head was spinning from the after-effects of the cosh and the taser.
Oh shit am I going to be sick…? she wondered.
She tried to breathe deeply, easily, but the sudden realization of her own weakness panicked her, sent her heart rate into overdrive. She couldn’t afford to be weak, not now. But she was.
Then Rufus Malone entered the room, and she knew her chance had passed.
Too late.
Too late for anything.
Annie felt her insides shrivel with fear when Rufus came in. In his muddy hands he was carrying a bottle of whisky, two tin mugs and a torch. She saw that he wore rubber boots, and they were mud-covered too.
His eyes met Annie’s as he sat down in one of the chairs across the table from her. He put the torch on the table, unscrewed the bottle and slopped the liquid into the two mugs.
‘Let’s have a drink, Mrs Carter,’ he said in a broad Irish drawl.
He pushed one mug in front of Annie, swallowed his own drink in one gulp.
‘Sheesh! That’s good whisky,’ he said. He fixed her with an intense stare. ‘So come on now. Where’s my girl, eh? Where’s Orla?’
Annie looked back at him. ‘What?’
‘Orla. Orla Delaney. She came to do you, didn’t she. And you know what? I haven’t seen her since. The plan was – she had a plan – that she was going to finish you. Slit your throat. Only she didn’t, because you’re still alive. And she hasn’t gone back to the auld country, as we agreed. So where is she? What’s happened to her?’
Annie’s heart was beating hard. ‘There was a break-in at my house. Was that her? Was that Orla?’ She took a gulping breath. ‘But how could it be? I thought Orla took off years ago. Got lost. Or died. Or something.’