‘How do you feel?’ She looked across at Lucas but the question hadn’t been his. He was already reading again and she was puzzled as she looked at him, trying to work out if he was scared of her emotions, his own, anybody’s, or if he just didn’t feel anything at all.
There had been moments in the last twenty-four hours when she’d thought there had to be something more to him, softer depths. That morning with Chris, the conversation she’d overheard from the bathroom, and just the way he was seeing them through this—it all gave the impression that they were more than just a job to him.
But looking at him now she had her doubts. He wasn’t like they were. It didn’t matter anyway; Lucas didn’t matter—not against being alone, not against half of who she was being erased like that.
And she still couldn’t find a way to register that fact. It was too big, too final. How could they be gone? How could Ben not be there? It seemed so unreal that she began to speculate on the ways in which Lucas could have been mistaken. Or possibly he was lying—like Chris had said, they didn’t really know who he was or that her dad had sent him.
‘Ella? How do you feel?’ Chris’s face and that question and she knew it was true. They were dead. She’d cried herself to exhaustion, her jaw aching still, and yet even now she felt like she didn’t have the space, the distance, the facts, any of the things she needed to come to terms with it.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, finally answering him, and her own voice sounded strange, like she was underwater, or lost in some heart-sickening dream.
‘I went and got some drinks. Do you want some? Coke? Water?’
‘Water, please.’ He handed her the bottle. The water was warm but she took a couple of mouthfuls, then more as she realized how dry her throat was.
At first she thought it was getting dark but looking out of the window, she saw the sky was overcast and that the landscape they were passing through was alpine and damp.
‘Are we in Switzerland?’
Lucas looked away from his book long enough to check his watch but didn’t answer.
‘You’ve been asleep for a few hours,’ said Chris.
‘If you want to freshen up you should do it now. We’ll be there soon and then it’s about a thirty-minute drive.’
‘Where are we going?’ She had nowhere to go, nothing to return to, a truth that should have torn her again but all her pain was dulled now, smothered by the emotional fatigue that was in every cell, every nerve ending. She felt like nothing would ever shock or hurt her again.
‘I’m taking you to my place for a night or two. Then I’ll take you into Zurich and hand you over to the consulate.’
She looked at Chris and realized they’d discussed it while she’d been sleeping. It bothered her, though she wasn’t sure why.
‘What will the consulate do with me?’
‘I imagine they’ll repatriate you.’
‘I mean, where will I go?’
Lucas looked baffled for a second before saying, ‘You’re an adult. You can go wherever you want.’ It made her feel spoiled and pathetic to think of herself as someone helpless while he saw her as an adult, someone capable of looking after herself. He seemed to reconsider, though, and added, ‘I suppose they might suggest you go to your uncle or any other family you’ve got.’
She didn’t have any other family and now she imagined the scenario getting worse, knowing that Simon was a partner in the business, that he was as likely to be a target of the killers as her father had been.
‘What if they killed my uncle, too?’
He thought about it for a while, apparently weighing things up.
‘It’s possible, but your dad’s the one who was connected.’
‘Connected? Your dad was like a gangster?’
She looked at Chris, trying to work out from his expression whether he was impressed or disgusted by the possibility. It was what Lucas seemed to be suggesting, but her dad was anything but gangster material. He’d always been a benign presence in the house, distant but loving.
She looked questioningly at Lucas but he glanced in turn at Chris, as if to ask whether it was wise to discuss this kind of family business in front of him. It was laughable, given what he’d seen, given too that it was business she hadn’t known about herself until now.
‘I’ve got no secrets from Chris.’
Lucas shrugged and said, ‘He was no gangster. He knew a few but he was never in organized crime himself. He started dealing drugs in the late sixties, made a lot of money, invested in property, moved into the arms trade. Then the drugs led him into financial services, offshore banking, that kind of thing, cleaning other people’s drug profits. And he kept investing, buying up property, legitimate financial concerns, IT companies, you name it. He was a good guy.’