Val McDermid - The Vanishing Point

So here she was, feeling curiously bereft in spite of the fact that she’d only had Jimmy in her care for nine months. Not even long enough to complete the adoption process. Her next interview with the social worker would be interesting. ‘Sorry, I seem to have mislaid the kid . . . ’

‘There is one silver lining,’ Stephanie said.

‘Really? I’m impressed that even an optimist like you can find anything good in this mess,’ Nick said.

‘I think Pete’s finally decided chasing me is more trouble than it’s worth.’

Even in profile he looked sceptical. ‘I hope you can still say that in six months’ time.’

Nick had filled his fridge with fruit, salads, cheese and cold meat. The bread bin was stacked with ciabatta rolls, bagels and croissants. And Stephanie knew there would be as much good coffee as she could possibly want. Food and drink were, apart from guitars and gigs, his only extravagances. But what she wanted more than brunch was a long hot shower. The FBI had installed her in a safe house that Stephanie reckoned was as much about keeping her under surveillance as protection. It wasn’t conducive to anything other than quick showers hunched over like a self-conscious teenager after school swimming class.

When she emerged, she felt almost normal. Nick had set out a selection of food and she made herself a ciabatta sandwich with hummus, corn salad and sun-dried tomatoes. Armed with food and coffee, they sat on opposite sides of the breakfast bar. There wasn’t anywhere else to eat in the flat; the living room, with its stunning view over Paddington Basin and west London, was only comfortable if you were a guitar. Or a guitarist.

‘What’s happening now? Are you still working with the FBI?’

Nick blew out a stream of coffee-scented air. ‘In theory, yes. But they’re not very impressed with the standard of our intel.’ His smile was wry.

‘It wasn’t your fault.’

‘No, but we’re far enough away to be a useful scapegoat. They’re not sharing much with us except outcomes. So, all the tips to the hotline that don’t pan out – they tell us about those. Active leads, nada.’

‘Maybe they don’t have any active leads. Without communication from the kidnappers, they wouldn’t have much to go on.’ Her own words struck cold in her heart. She pushed her sandwich away, no longer hungry.

‘I did get a message from Vivian, asking if we could check our databases for the name he flew under. He used the alias William Jacobs, but they don’t have any record of the ID he used to travel. The name doesn’t ring any bells with them or with us. Which means it’s another dead end.’ Nick took a bite of a bagel with peanut butter and cream cheese and chewed so hard she could see the muscles in his jaw working.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Technically, there’s nothing any of us over here can do, unless we’re asked directly for international cooperation.’

‘Even though Jimmy’s a British citizen?’ With Nick, Stephanie didn’t have to hold back on letting her indignation show.

‘It’s a difficult one. We can offer support, which we have done, but unless they ask us, we can’t interfere in somebody else’s jurisdiction.’

‘If it was your case, what would you do?’

Nick pushed his hair back from his forehead and thought for a moment. ‘I’d go back to the crime itself and strip away all the externals and ask myself what actually happened.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Leave aside all the emotional stuff that a child abduction generates. Disregard everything except the offence itself.’

‘I’m still not sure I understand.’

Nick looked over her head while he figured out how to explain himself. She remembered that one of the things she really liked about him was that he didn’t use his intelligence to browbeat her or make her feel stupid. He wanted to share. Not to dominate. ‘Maybe it’s best if I talk you through the process. What happened here? A child was kidnapped. Was this a spur-of- the-moment crime, an opportunist act?’

‘No, obviously not.’ Stephanie resigned herself to the role of doltish sidekick.

‘Was it planned, but random? In other words, did the kidnapper know what he planned to do, but not specifically who he was going to target?’

Stephanie frowned. ‘That’s a more difficult one to answer.’

‘But I think we can get to an answer. The middle of the day is far from the busiest time at a major airport. There are fewer travellers, so there’s more chance of our fake TSA guy being spotted by the real thing. Of those fewer travellers, I don’t imagine too many of them are adults travelling with young children. Which means relatively few targets. When you factor in the percentage of those adults likely to set off the metal detector, the number shrinks further. If you were going for a random kid, there are far better choices he could have made. Plus, he flew in from Atlanta. Which, as I understand it, is almost as busy an airport as O’Hare. Why travel to achieve something you could do just as well at the place you started from?’ He chinked his cup against hers, pleased with his demonstration of logic.

‘It wasn’t random.’

‘And if it wasn’t random, it was specifically targeted at capturing Jimmy or causing you pain. Which we will come back to in a moment. Before that, I need to figure out who knew your travel plans.’

Stephanie looked startled. ‘Nobody knew the details. I mean, there were people who knew I was going on holiday, and the dates. But not things like times and flight numbers.’

‘OK. So who knew you were going away?’

‘Maggie, of course. My lawyer, because I had to have the right paperwork for the court to allow me to take Jimmy out of the country. My pub quiz team, my book club.’

‘And me,’ Nick reminded her.

‘Oh yeah. Obviously, you are in the pay of this gang of international kidnappers.’ Stephanie giggled. ‘It’s all been part of your evil plot, getting me into your bed.’

‘Took you long enough to figure that out. But joking apart. Any of those people could have told someone else.’

‘But why would you? It’s not likely my pub quiz team are dying to find some dodgy character they can sidle up to and go, “Stephanie Harker’s taking her kid to America a week on Monday,” is it?’

‘If you were trying to find an opportunity to kidnap Jimmy, you might well choose to befriend someone in that position. Or you might join the pub quiz with a team of your own.’

Stephanie sighed. ‘It’s all very far-fetched. And if you wanted Jimmy that badly, why not snatch him here in the UK? I’m sure there must be opportunities in the school playground, or when I’m at the park with him. Why make it so complicated?’

Nick scratched his chin. ‘That’s an interesting question too. And I don’t have an answer.’

‘I might,’ Stephanie said slowly. ‘You don’t really move in the same world I do, so it wouldn’t necessarily occur to you. But most of my clients inhabit a world where they get recognised all the time. In the supermarket. Walking down the street. At the leisure club. If the kidnapper has any kind of public profile, it would make sense to go for Jimmy when he’s out of the UK.’

Nick grinned. ‘Brilliant! That makes total sense. You’re right, it would have taken me a long time to get that. So let’s keep that in the back of our minds. But just backtracking a moment – how did you organise your travel plans?’

‘I booked the flights direct with the airline, I organised the accommodation through an owners’ rental website recommended by Maggie, and the car hire I did on the 24/7 website.’

‘Where you gave them details of your incoming flight?’