Ethan looked emotionally washed up but said, “Will you come back tomorrow?”
“No, I think Friday’s the earliest I’m likely to be back. As soon as I’ve got her, I’ll make sure she calls you.” He checked his watch. “It might help if you put together a quick letter saying that you’re authorizing me to escort her back here. And while we’re at it, could I use your computer to book a hotel for myself?”
“Of course,” said Debbie. “I guess yours is still being monitored.”
“Honestly, I have no idea, but it’s always better to err on the side of caution.” As he said it, he wondered if the same principle was behind this entire surveillance operation, but he doubted it—they were after something specific.
“You don’t think Hailey’s in danger?” It was Ethan who asked the question and Finn looked at him now. “If you’re worried about them finding out where you’re going—why? You think if they find out they’ll go after Hailey?”
Finn shook his head. “No, I’m just being cautious, for my own sake. Until I know what’s behind this surveillance operation, I’d rather have them know as little as possible about my movements.”
They seemed to accept that, and over the next ten minutes they produced and signed a letter and Finn booked his hotel. Then they showed him to the door and he said goodnight.
Debbie said, “Will we see you before you go in the morning?”
“Possibly not.”
She hugged him. To his surprise, so did Ethan. Finn didn’t do hugs, and that was nothing to do with the life he’d been play-acting, but he was bemused just as much by his transformation in their eyes.
Until a few days ago, the Portmans had probably considered him a distant figure, or an opaque one. Perhaps they’d thought Adrienne would be better off without him, perhaps they’d even looked upon him with contempt. And now, even before he’d brought their daughter back to them, they were hugging him with gratitude.
Once they’d shut the door, he looked again at the door of Gibson’s silent apartment, and walked along the corridor to the stairs. If only it were that simple—bringing the Portmans’ daughter back—for everything to return to normal. If only.
Chapter Fourteen
He ran for longer the next morning, going out early, getting such a rush off it that he couldn’t remember why or how he’d stopped. And every time he thought of Adrienne, he ran faster. He guessed that complacency had played its part in the demise of both his fitness and his relationship. One of them, at least, could still be restored easily enough.
When he got back to the apartment, there was a note pushed under the door, a piece of paper folded in half. He opened it and knew instantly from the block capitals that it was from Jonas. Finn checked his watch—he’d probably called in on his way to school.
BGS = BRAC GLOBAL SYSTEMS, BASED IN THE CAYMAN ISLANDS. NOTHING ELSE YET BUT MORE SOON. JONAS.
Finn smiled, at the way it resembled a telegram, at the fact that Jonas had gone after BGS like a terrier, digging up information that Finn doubted he’d have found himself so easily. In his experience, though, knowing that Gibson’s apartment had been rented by Brac Global Systems would lead to a handful of cul-de-sacs and not much else.
Even so, when he got back he’d tell Jonas to forget about BGS, that it wasn’t smart for him to keep hacking in that particular direction. Finn wasn’t even certain he wanted to find out any more himself. It would depend on what was on the memory stick, but sometimes he knew it was better just to let things stand, and he had a fragile hope that this would be one of those cases.
He took the train to Geneva Airport. A couple of girls were sitting a few seats away from him with backpacks and suitcases, both American, probably on a study year at the University of Lausanne. No one paid them any attention, and he wondered if Hailey had aroused as little interest as she’d traveled across the continent.
These girls looked noticeably older than he remembered Hailey looking, but then, she’d changed her hair since, and his view of her was informed by the knowledge of her age, by having known her first as a child proper. The two girls on the train were much more conservatively dressed than the threadbare, bohemian look she’d developed for herself, but that would have probably worked in her favor, too.
He wondered if she’d been scared at all. She’d had to have taken at least one night train, and he doubted she would have spent her limited funds on a compartment. He imagined her sitting all night in a regular seat, afraid to fall asleep.