James
We fall into silence again.
After a minute Klempner touches his ear again. “Michael doesn’t sound very happy,” he comments, his voice dry. “He can’t find them. Nor Ben.” He checks his phone. “Nothing from Marco either.”
Has someone warned them?
Richard?
Has Charlotte got them out of sight?
“You won’t find them, Klempner,” I drawl. “When Charlotte goes to ground, no-one finds her. She had a lot of practice at running when she was younger. If you had trouble keeping tabs on her as a child, what do you think your chances are now?”
He scratches at a cheek-bone, fixing his gaze on me. “It occurs to me that I have the ideal hostage to draw out my daughter.”
I’m keen for a change of conversation. “How did you do it? Get a bug on Michael’s car?”
He hesitates, as though deciding whet
