The Rift, Rachel Lynch [books recommended by bts .txt] 📗

Cat’. Helen scribbled frantically. ‘My, you’ve been busy,’ she said under her breath.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Positive, that’s him,’ she said.

‘And how many times would you say you’d seen him?’

‘Maybe four or five.’

‘Over what period?’

‘He was new, about four weeks before we broke for summer. I told Hakim I didn’t like him, but he reminded me that they weren’t there to be liked. But I didn’t forget.’

‘Did you meet Jean-Luc?’ he asked.

‘No, but I saw him a few times. We were never properly introduced but Hakim pointed him out.’

‘Did you ever witness Jean-Luc talking to the man you have identified as “looking” at you?’

Amélie thought.

‘Yes. Hakim took no notice of them but I watched occasionally. I suppose I found it fascinating. I’ve never lived like this before – every move being monitored and scrutinised – I don’t like it.’

‘You’ve said. When did you see them converse?’ The officer asked.

‘When I noticed him start on the job. I asked Hakim about him but he was annoyed, reminding me that new faces came and went and that I should ignore them. I wanted to fit in, but it didn’t feel right.’

Amélie was proving to be a reliable and natural witness. She was open and helpful. The officer showed her more photos, this time of places where they’d traced Hakim’s last movements in Paris before leaving after the summer term for his break in Algiers. He also spread a map across the desk, and she pointed to each place on it, confirming her knowledge of the locations, even if she hadn’t been there with Hakim.

‘Would you say that Hakim’s routines were predictable?’

Amélie laughed a little. ‘Yes.’ Her smile was engaging and came out of the blue. Helen watched as her face melted into adoration as she spoke of Hakim. ‘He took me to the coolest bars and the most amazing restaurants. We always went straight to the front of the queue, even if people were waiting in line for a long time.’

She stopped speaking and fiddled with her hands again. Helen knew that this was painful for her. She loved him; that was plain to see.

‘You attracted attention?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the bodyguards? Where were they?’

‘Hakim always surprised me, but I guess not the guards – they were always ahead of him.’

‘So his plans were always run past the guards first?’

‘Of course.’

‘Every time, without exception?’ he asked.

‘Every time. Like I told them.’

‘Who?’ The officer stopped writing and looked up. Helen sat forward in her chair. Had someone got to her first?

‘The first time I was interviewed.’ The woman was suddenly wary.

‘Where and by whom?’

Amélie looked worried, as if she’s made a blunder. ‘I thought you were all working together, looking for Hakim. Have I made a mistake? A man came to see me at my flat on Tuesday – he showed ID.’

‘Ask her for a name,’ Helen said. She closed her eyes and put her head on a single finger in the middle of her forehead. She knew the answer.

‘This man, do you have a name?’ he asked her.

‘Mr Tess… erm… Tessin…’

Helen watched as the woman struggled to remember.

‘He was English and very nice. He knew Hakim’s family well. I thought…’

Helen slammed the table. Amélie couldn’t hear her outburst but she was still aware that somehow, there’d been a blunder.

‘Has he got something to do with it? He said he worked for the family. Did I do something wrong?’

Helen saw panic rise up in Amélie’s body.

‘What did you talk about?’ asked the officer.

‘I think he said that he was Hakim’s father’s head of security.’

Amélie was no longer concentrating on the questions being asked of her.

‘That would be Jean-Luc Bisset.’

‘No, it wasn’t him.’

‘Of course it wasn’t him, so who was it?’

‘An Englishman,’ she repeated.

‘Grant, you have so many questions to answer,’ Helen whispered. She pressed her mic.

‘Tennyson,’ she said.

The police officer repeated his name.

‘Yes, that’s it!’ Amélie was clearly relieved to be helpful after her mistake.

‘I’d like you to try to remember exactly what he asked you and what he found particularly interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ she asked.

‘Let’s say the focus of his attention.’

‘Ah, I understand. So, he seemed to be really focused on the man you just showed to me.’ She pointed to the photo of the same man she’d just identified; the officer made a note. Helen closed her eyes in disbelief.

‘And did you tell him that this man conversed with Jean-Luc?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you. I’ve one more question. We have a telephone call from Hakim’s mobile phone to yours, made mid-air, as he travelled back to Paris.’

‘Yes, I couldn’t take it. I hate myself for missing the call, but he left me a voice message,’ she said. Tears came to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

‘Good, do you still have it?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She took out her phone and played the message on speaker. The voice of Hakim rang out in the small room.

‘Amélie, I’m arriving soon. Can you come to the airport?’

Amélie bowed her head and her shoulders shook.

‘He’s never asked me to meet him at the airport before.’

‘Never?’ asked the officer.

‘I thought he was joking,’ she said quietly.

‘And now what do you think?’

Amélie’s eyes widened as realisation took hold of her.

‘He was trying to tell me something.’ She blew her nose.

Whatever happened on that plane, it now seemed Hakim potentially knew what was going on halfway over the Mediterranean Sea.

Chapter 32

Grant watched as Khalil paced up and down his suite at the InterContinental with the burner phone in his hand.

‘“Sand Cat” – it means nothing to you?’ Grant asked.

‘It’s a small cat from the desert in North Africa,’ Khalil replied. He waved his hands around. This much Grant knew. It wasn’t so much the animal’s ecology or habitat that Grant was after though. He considered his boss. During the week he’d spent with him in close company, he’d observed a cautious man but one given to eruptions of anxiety, brought on, no doubt, by his pampered upbringing. For all the bravado and poise, Khalil did not control all things, and his sudden outbursts of panic