She took a deep breath and nodded. Did she believe him?
“Tell me about Wayne,” he asked. He realized that it mattered to him that this man who was going to marry her mother was honest and kind. What he did and how much he earned were unimportant; he must be kind to the child, he must like her, as much as if she had been his own.
He asked questions to keep her mind busy, all kinds of questions about the man, but the more she told him, the less did he like what he heard. By the time the waitress approached them again, he was almost as concerned about Wayne as he was about Maria Waterman’s safety.
The telephone buzzed against his chest. He fished it out and saw a text from Peter: Mission accomplished. He went light-headed with relief.
Sarah was watching him, looking very pale, her clenched hands on the table.
“Watson’s done his part,” he told her. “Now we must wait for them to reply. Don’t worry, they will. They want what is inside Raffa just as much as we want your mother. And we can destroy it any time we want to.”
“Will you destroy it even if we get Mummy back again?”
“Yes, I’m afraid we will have to. They would do a great deal of damage with it.”
“Will they know? That you can destroy it?”
“They do now.”
She tried to smile, but it did not really work.
He reached across the table and put his hand over hers, just for a moment. It was a very un-Holmes-like thing to have done, but he was not sorry. When she was older, and looked back on this, who would she think he was?
The waitress returned with another note.
Marcus took it and read it almost at a glance. They agreed, naming a restaurant which would be open until at least midnight. They would meet there and exchange the hostage for the ransom. The restaurant was in the theater district. Not good: he might be recognized. He had played in many of them, and his face was known worldwide as Sherlock Holmes. He wrote down the name of an alternative restaurant, less fashionable, where he might pass unnoticed. He tipped the waitress handsomely, and asked her to return with the reply.
He and Sarah waited in silence until it came. It was a jolt, and a relief.
“The game is on,” he told her, then looked at what she was wearing. “Do you have other clothes with you? A pretty dress?”
“Yes, in my room.”
“Let’s put you into that. I will go up with you, and wait in your mother’s room while you change. I’m not going to leave you alone.” He hoped she would not argue. They had pushed the kidnappers to the limit. They would offer no mercy they did not have to. He could delete everything from the flash drive, but then he would have no bargaining power left. He was bitterly aware of that.
She obeyed without even asking him. She looked very small and frightened. In the rooms, she found the dress and went towards the bathroom.
“Sarah!” he called.
She turned. He could see the fear in her eyes.
“I just want you to be safe,” he said without thinking.
“Oh!” She gave a weak smile and her eyes filled with tears.
He could not even imagine how lonely she was, and this evening she was going to have to give away the one stable thing in her life, on the chance of getting her mother back. He would have to find a way to get Raffa back—the real Sherlock Holmes would have. But of course, Holmes would not have cared.
He gave her half an hour, then knocked on the adjoining door.
She opened it straight away, and looked up at him. She had obviously washed her hair. It hung in a shining curtain, and she had on a red dress that in a few months was going to be too small for her. Now it was perfect, plain and simple, and the color made her skin glow.
“You look beautiful,” he said seriously. “And red is a good color, bright and brave.”
She gave him the best smile she could.
Downstairs the doorman called a taxi for them and they rode through the streets in silence. Raffa was still in the attaché case, which Marcus never let go of. It would have been nice for her to hold him, but dangerous—and perhaps also too emotional.
He thought about talking, and decided against it. She needed a little while to think of what was going to happen. He looked sideways at her once or twice, but if she was aware of him, she gave no sign. Her face was motionless and very solemn.
They arrived at the restaurant, which was brightly lit, people on the footpath stopping to glance at the menus pasted outside. A man and woman passed them and went in, she in a tight, sequined dress.
Marcus took Sarah’s hand and held it firmly. This was the very last stage of the transaction and he felt she was desperately vulnerable. He did not even think about whether he was being brave or not. For the first time that he could remember, he was ready to fight if he needed to. But this would not be fists or rapiers, it would more likely be a knife that he did not see coming.
He asked for the table he had reserved, in her name.
“Miss Waterman?” the ma?tre d’ said doubtfully.