Scott Mariani - The Heretic’s Treasure

As Ben was about to leave, Paxton suddenly and unexpectedly embraced him. Ben could feel the tension in the man’s body.

‘I love my wife, Ben,’ Paxton said in a low voice.

Ben recoiled at the words but tried to hide it. ‘I know that, Harry.’

‘I’m too old for her. I don’t even know what she sees in me. But I love her more than anything. She’s all I have left in the world.’

Ben just nodded.

Paxton patted him on the back, drew away and wiped away a tear. He collected himself quickly. ‘I’ll wait for your call, then.’

‘I’ll be in touch, Harry.’

Ben stepped off the launch at Porto Vecchio and got into the waiting taxi. Forty-five minutes later he was back at the Côte d’Azur International Airport across the border in Nice, grabbing his bag out of the boot and heading across the car park towards the airport terminals.

He wished he were getting on a plane back to Normandy, not boarding a flight bound for Amsterdam and then on to Cairo. He felt trapped. He thought of Brooke and Jeff, wondered what they were doing at that moment. They felt a long way away. He suddenly realised how much he missed having them around.

He was halfway across the tarmac when the sound of a car approaching fast made him turn. Zara’s BMW Roadster had pulled in off the street and was speeding towards him. The car screeched to a halt five yards away from where he was standing and the door flew open. Zara jumped out and came running up to him. Her face was tense.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, bewildered.

‘I couldn’t let you go without seeing you again.’

‘You followed me all the way from San Remo?’

‘I had to say goodbye. I’m sorry I walked out on you last night. It was stupid of me to run away like that.’

‘It was better that you didn’t stay.’

‘I meant what I said. That I love you. I do. I want us to be together. I’ll find a way, some way that won’t hurt Harry.’

‘Don’t talk like that. I can’t listen to this. It’s not right.’

‘You know it’s right,’ she said. ‘We both do.’ She held him tight. He stroked her hair as she moved her face up to his. The struggle was killing him. He gave in to the kiss. They embraced for a few seconds, and then he pushed her away reluctantly, his throat tight. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m going to miss this flight. I’ve got business to take care of

‘Stay with me. Take the next flight.’

‘You know I can’t do that.’

She reached up and gently caressed his cheek. ‘Take care.’

‘You too,’ he said.

‘When will I see you again?’

‘I don’t know.’ He turned to go, tearing himself away.

‘Call me,’ she said as he walked off. ‘Promise you’ll call me.’

He wanted to turn back and hold her again, be with her, take her somewhere where they could be alone. But he kept walking. Just before he pushed through the doors into the terminal building, he glanced back. She was standing there by her car, a small, forlorn figure in the distance. She waved. He sighed and entered the building.

Across the car park, two men had been sitting in a car watching the whole thing. The driver had been about to get out to follow their target inside the airport to find out what flight he was getting on.

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