Val McDermid - The Vanishing Point

‘And then we sit tight?’

‘That’s right. Till Simon or Marina or both of them emerge. Then we try to follow them. And see where that takes us.’

‘It’s not exactly watertight, is it?’ Stephanie tried not to show how nervous she felt about Nick’s plan. The truth was that what had seemed like a brilliant idea in the security of his flat was scarier than sitting in an interrogation room with Vivian McKuras. Much scarier.

‘We have to be flexible. We’ll stay in touch on our phones. At least on these roads they won’t get much of a head start. And it’s not like there are a lot of side roads to turn off on.’

Stephanie breathed deeply. ‘And if we manage to follow Simon and we find Jimmy with him and Marina, what do we do then?’ When she’d asked this before, Nick had been evasive, saying they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. Well, as far as she was concerned, they were on the approach road to the bridge now.

‘We assess the situation and decide the best way to make sure we walk out of there with Jimmy,’ Nick said.

‘Can’t we just call the police and tell them?’

Nick negotiated a hairpin bend with a twist of the wrists, then nearly ended up in a ditch avoiding a horse-drawn cart coming down the hill in the opposite direction. ‘I don’t trust the local law enforcement. The TOmorrow trust is funnelling a lot of money into the local economy. They’re going to have more clout than a Scotland Yard detective walking in on their patch without any kind of agreement. Even if it only takes a few hours to sort things out, Simon and Marina could take off with Jimmy and be on their way to anywhere in central Europe. We’ve got to do it ourselves. We’ve got to physically remove Jimmy and get him away from there.’

‘Then what do we do? I don’t have his passport, and if the locals are in Marina’s pocket, how can we possibly get away on these roads?’

‘We do what they don’t expect. They’ll expect us to head for the airport. But I say we head on over the mountains and down the other side to Bucharest. We’ll take Jimmy to the British Embassy and they can sort out an emergency passport. We’re the guys in the white hats here, after all. We are the rescue mission.’

Stephanie was not reassured. ‘You think they’ll hand Jimmy over? Just like that?’

‘No. I think we’ll have to make some unpleasant noises. Simon’s the weak link, though. He’s a doctor. If he ever wants to practise anywhere again, he can’t afford to have an international warrant for his arrest floating around out there. As far as I can tell, he’s a nice middle-class boy with no experience of being on the wrong side of the law. He’s the one who will cave, trust me.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘You’ve never seen my dark side, Stephanie. But don’t forget, I’m the one who kicked Pete Matthews into touch for you. I can do this. I can get Simon to see how much better off he will be if he hands Jimmy over in exchange for no legal pursuit.’

‘You’d do that? You’d let them get away with it?’

Nick’s jaw tightened. ‘It goes against all my instincts, but yes. I’d do it to get the kid back. I’d do it for Jimmy’s sake. The kid needs stability and familiarity, not to be transplanted to a foreign country and given a foreign identity. Because they’ll have to do that. They can’t risk Jimmy Higgins reappearing. He’ll be given the identity of some Romanian orphan. So yes, I’d do it for the kid. And for you.’

‘And what if Marina won’t play? What if Simon goes along with you and she says no?’

‘Then it’ll be three to one.’ His mouth clamped shut. Stephanie realised she was going to get nothing more out of Nick on this subject. He didn’t want to rehearse with her a situation he was determined to avoid. He peered at the odometer. ‘According to this, we’re only a couple of miles away. Keep a look out for any signs.’

They passed through another hamlet – a cluster of mean houses with steep roofs huddled round what appeared to be an inn – then the forest seemed to grow thicker as they climbed through a series of tight bends. As they rounded the last hairpin they looked across a tumultuous stream that surged along the roadside to a meadow. At the heart of the meadow was a high wall surrounding a grim stone building. Four storeys high, twelve windows per storey, it sat foursquare behind tall iron gates. The cream stucco and the steeply pitched dark roof looked in good repair, but the overall impression was forbidding. There was a large paved area at the end of the driveway where several cars were parked, but the remainder that they could see was covered with grass. Nick slowed down and they passed a bridge over the stream. A large signboard proclaimed Orfelinat Timonescu.

‘Jesus,’ Nick said. ‘It’s big.’

Stephanie looked back and from this perspective she could see the beginnings of a children’s play area that looked well equipped. ‘What if they live in?’ she said. ‘What if Jimmy’s stuck in there with all the other orphans?’

The road swung round in a broad curve. On the right, what appeared to be a logging road split off. Nick turned into it at the last moment and drove round the first bend. He turned the car around and when he finally stopped, they were about fifty yards from the road but out of sight to the casual observer. ‘Why would they want to? If they’ve gone to these lengths to build a new life, I don’t imagine they’re spending their down time in an orphanage,’ he said. ‘Like I said last night, we have to be prepared to be flexible.’ He reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘We have to hope. Somebody has to stand up for Jimmy,’ he said.

Stephanie smiled. ‘You think you can play me like a six-string,’ she said, no sting in her voice. ‘But I can see through you. I know why we’re here, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to be apprehensive.’

‘Apprehensive is good. It means you don’t do stupid, heedless gung-ho shit.’ Nick opened the car door and unfolded himself, stretching his arms up to unkink his back. Stephanie joined him and in silence they organised their backpacks. Still without speaking, they set out down the track to the road.

‘There’s a path along the top side of the meadow,’ Stephanie said. ‘I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye. I think you must get to it via the bridge that leads to the orphanage.’

And so they walked back down the road and crossed the bridge. There was no sign of life from the oppressive building behind the wall, no sound of children playing. It was early afternoon by now, and Stephanie was surprised that everything was so quiet and still.

They soon spotted the narrow path that cut across the meadow to the treeline. It looked exactly like the sort of path two hikers would be attracted to. They paused while Nick pretended to consult the map. ‘Once we get to the trees, we’ll look at the map again and act like we made a mistake. Then we’ll go back the way we came. But as soon as we reach the bend, you slip into the trees and keep an eye on the orphanage. I’ll go back to the car and wait for you to tell me when I need to make a move.’ He slipped off his backpack and took out a pair of binoculars. ‘You’d better have these.’

They walked across the meadow purposefully, continuing along by the trees for a few hundred metres. Suddenly, the sound of children shouting and laughing drifted their way on the light breeze. A little further on, they turned and retraced their steps. There was a gap in the wall of about twenty metres where the stone had been replaced by tall spiked railings. Behind it, they could see children engaged in a typical assortment of childish activities – throwing balls, skipping, chasing games or just mooching around. Some of the children were clearly disabled, but they joined in nevertheless, making the most of the spring sunshine and their freedom. None of them was Jimmy, Stephanie was sure of that. Three women in dark trousers and the kind of white tunics worn by nurses and hospital orderlies sat on a bench, legs crossed, eyes on the children, smoking fiercely and talking animatedly. They paid no attention to Nick and Stephanie, who kept up their brisk pace all the way back to the road. ‘It looks like the kids are having fun,’ Stephanie said. ‘Scarlett did something good. When she first came here, it was like all the horror documentaries after the fall of Ceaușescu. Kids chained to their cots, babies lying in their own filth, disabled children with bedsores weeping pus. Looks like they’ve had a transformation.’