Private London

Chapter 30

Around the table were Adrian Tuttle, Wendy Lee, Suzy Malone, Brad Dexter and Sam Riddel.

Sam is my number two at the agency. He was wearing a coal-black three-piece suit and a dark blue tie. He’s a six foot four ex-copper and ex-boxer, and he’s black. He’d never killed a man in the ring, but I wasn’t so sure about out of it. He grew up on one of the worst estates in South London. Two of his brothers were killed before he was ten years old. Killed in the drug-turf wars that were still a feature of everyday life in that part of London. The fact that Sam had survived it, had never turned to the dark side as it were, meant he could pretty much survive anything in my book.

Suzy was in her early thirties. Ex-Metropolitan Police. Five foot six, auburn hair, fifth-degree black-sash Wing Chun kung fu, Third Dan kick-boxing, a marksman, a loyal friend, a deadly enemy, openly bisexual and one of my favourite people in the whole world. The Met Police’s loss was decidedly our gain. Likewise Brad Dexter. Early fifties, built like an American-style fridge, he had taken early retirement from the close-protection unit of the Met. He now headed up our personal-security division.

‘Okay, guys,’ I said as I picked up a small white remote-control unit from the desk. ‘Everything else is off the agenda. What I am going to tell you about now needs our total focus. Jack Morgan would be flying over himself to head this up, but he can’t. He’s subpoenaed to appear in federal court and can’t leave the country.’

‘What’s going on, Dan?’ asked Wendy Lee.

I pointed the remote control at the TV and clicked the on button. I would say it was state-of-the-art Apple and Sony TV technology – but it wasn’t, Apple wouldn’t be bringing their version out for a year or so.

As it was, I wasn’t using the sophisticated conference facility – I was just using it for a slide show.

First up was a recent picture of Hannah Shapiro. I couldn’t believe it was the same nervous girl I had brought over from America less than eighteen months ago. Chloe had told me that Hannah had come out of herself a lot, becoming more confident and outgoing. But the transformation was incredible, even so.

Hannah looked bold, comfortable and gorgeous. Her hair now full and wavy, a tumble of deep brunette curls. Her eyes bright, a killer smile. Her figure was more shapely, filled out – she had become a woman. A very sexy one at that.

I felt guilty thinking it. Remembering the small nervous hand holding mine on that bumpy flight. She was like a completely different person.

‘Hannah Shapiro,’ I said. ‘Registered at Chancellors University under the name “Hannah Durrant”.’

‘Why the name change?’ asked Lucy.

‘Her father is Harlan Shapiro. A very wealthy West Coast industrialist. Electronic systems. Communications.’

‘And…?’ Wendy Lee asked.

I took a sip of my coffee, remembering what Jack had told me the night before. Hannah’s mother hadn’t died of cancer like she had told me on the flight. She had died in circumstances almost too horrific to take in.

‘A good few years ago,’ I replied, ‘on Hannah’s twelfth birthday, she and her mother were kidnapped. A ransom was demanded. A ransom that her father didn’t pay.’

‘What happened?’ Lucy again. Sam wasn’t saying anything – I’d briefed him last night. He knew who Chloe was, too – and what she meant to me.

‘The people who took them, Vincent Cabrello and John Santini, were a couple of low-life hoodlums who had fallen foul of some connected people in New York State. They hightailed it over to the West Coast to lie low, enjoy some sunshine and make what they figured would be some easy pickings.’

‘And they picked on Hannah Shapiro and her mother?’ Suzy asked.

I nodded. ‘The kidnapping wasn’t planned. Hannah and her mother weren’t specifically targeted.’

‘Opportunistic?’

‘Seems that way. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cabrello and Santini, pumped up on speed and bourbon, waited in their van in an underground car park. They just planned to take the first likely candidate they saw. They figured that anybody shopping in this particular mall would have serious money, and they were right…’

I pointed at the picture of Hannah. ‘They hit the jackpot with Hannah and Jessica Shapiro. Only trouble was, they were bringing another lightning storm down on their heads at the same time. And this one they wouldn’t be able to run away from.’

‘Jack Morgan,’ Sam grunted.