Laurie did.Thenothat had fallen from his lips was unconnected withthe question.He pushed up onto his feet, oblivious to the chairthat clattered over behind him.Kucharski still had hold of hiswrist.“No,” he said again, trying to take a step back, tethered bythe grip, by the officer’s steady gray eyes.
“I’m not saying Alexandru is responsible for the loss of yoursister.But he has dangerous, ruthless connections.We’ve beenwatching him, and we know he’s been back and forth to this house.Your father’s told us, and our surveillance bears this out, that…hecame and went as he chose, to share lessons with you, and youweren’t always there to let him in.You have to tell us, Laurence.Did you give him a key?”
Lauriechoked.He jerked at Kucharski’s grasp, which only tightened.Hethought a wind must have risen.It was all he could hear, drowningthe hiss of the radios, beating like wings against his eardrums.Hecouldn’t get a breath into his lungs.PC Foster’s voice made it tohim through the storm, fragmented and broken.“You’d better let himgo, John.”
She washolding the study door open.Laurie went through it slowly, havingto grab at its frame to keep upright.The windstorm continued.Heheard her say, “Is there a bathroom downstairs?”and his fatherreplying, “Yes.I’ll take him.”
“No, sir.Better let me.”
“For God’s sake.He’s myson.”
“The son you assaulted, sir.You can see he’s afraid ofyou.”
Lauriewalked off from the argument.He got a few yards down the hallwayand doubled up retching, spattering water over the black-and-whitetiles.It was all he had.Thank God I didn’t have breakfast, hethought detachedly.His sinuses burned, and his knees tried to meltout from under him again.Shame hit him.Coughing, he struggledupright and made a desperate run for the bathroom.Tried to slamthe door behind him, but it bounced back at him, and he couldn’teven make it to the toilet, instead collapsed across the edge ofthe claw-footed bathtub, banging his bruised ribs, knocking thelast breath of air from his lungs.
“Laurence.Laurie, my boy.”
Soundsof struggle in the doorway.Laurie couldn’t get his head up, but hecould picture the scene—his father, bulldozing through whateverresistance Foster or Gray was trying to put up.Laurie could havetold them that it was no use.He heard, without surprise, “Allright.But you be bloody careful with him, okay?We’ll be rightoutside.”
When was the last time his father had tended him—touched himat all, for that matter, other than with a blow?Never.Laurie began tofight, driving an elbow back.He did not want that hand on hisshoulder.Didn’t want his head held.“Fuck off!”he rasped betweenanguished dry heaves.All he wanted was Sasha.
Sasha, who was gone.“I’ll come backto you, I promise.Can you trust me?”
Can you trust?
“Listen, son.”
He didnot want his father kneeling heavily on the bathroom floor besidehim, reaching for a washcloth and awkwardly wiping his face.Hetried to bat him away, but despite his half-starved emptiness, hisstomach was trying to wring itself inside out, and he was toodisabled by the spasms to escape.
“I’m sorry for what I did to you.And I know what you thinkabout…me and Clara, but I swear to you, I never harmed her.Do youunderstand?”
Oh, God.The memory of those greatbear paws, the same ones manipulating him now, on that little body.That did it for Laurie.He choked and threw up the remains of along-forgotten supper, shuddering and clutching at the side of thebath.“Fuck you,” he repeated when he could.The old man waswashing out the cloth under the tap, wiping his mouth for him.“Didyou tell them?Did you tell the cops out there,about…you and Clara?”
“No.Because nothing happened.She hasn’t run away, Laurie.She’s been taken.Snatched.”
“Christ!”
Laurie found he was sobbing.He knelt on the bathroom floor,brow pressed to the rim of the bathtub.He could feel his own handsreaching, starfishing on vacant air.His father’s hands closedunder his armpits, lifted him as if he weighed nothing.Depositedhim on the toilet seat.And Laurie remembered.It wasn’t the firsttime, no.The old manhadtaken care of him, when he was very small.Swunghim around in the air for a game, hoisted him into and out of hisplaypen.Then something had changed.His father had never harmedClara.Never harmed him, either.And nothing hadhappened.
Was thathow he had stopped himself?By ceasing to touch Laurie atall?
Big handon his head now, gently stroking back his hair.“Laurie.We’ve beenenemies, haven’t we?”
“I… Yes.”Laurie tried to shake him off, but he was dizzy,nausea still roiling through him.“Stop it.Let me go.”
“We have to be friends now.For Clara.”The stroking continued.Laurie, suddenly unbearably tired, felt some last resistance give.He tried to get up—get out of here, anywhere away from this horrorthat could caress the child in him into thinking that it was agood—but his effort miscarried, and he crumpled forward into hisfather’s arms.“Listen,” the old man said.“My son would neverchoose to be with someone evil.I know that.But somebody thisAlexandru—Sasha—knows…”
Lauriecould hardly breathe.It didn’t seem to matter anymore.“What doyou want?”
“The police out there need to talk to his associates.Justtalk.Maybe one of them knows something.”The old man rocked himslightly, pressed a rough, tender kiss to the crown of his head.“Come on, son.You’re my good boy.Just tell us where theyare.”
* **
To makethe journey this way was so easy.Brow resting on the glass, Lauriewatched slip by the miles of streets and suburbs he had traversedso laboriously on foot or on the bus, which stopped every fewhundred yards and started again with a bone-shaking roar.TheDaimler was silent.Its progress through the night was smooth as ashark’s.His father was not so good a driver as Charlie, but stillthey covered the ground in great effortless swathes.They wouldsoon be there.
In theend, he had not told the old man.He had told John Kucharski, whohad appeared in the bathroom door and asked Sir William to leavethem.The doctor who had been attending his mother upstairs hadcome in and looked him over, and Laurie had scarcely noticed hisattentions, not even the sting of a needle to his inner arm.Whilethe doctor worked, Kucharski had sat on the edge of the bath, hadgiven Laurie his nice smile and told him how much danger AlexandruPetrica was in.How Interpol could help and shelter him fromdangerous men Laurie had no reason to help shield.
He hadstumbled out of the bathroom.His father had hung up the phone atthe hallway’s far end and come to intercept him.Kucharski hadhesitated, as if reluctant to hand him over, but PC Foster hadcalled for him from the study, and he had hurried off.Sir Williamhad put a warm arm around his shoulders and led him away, downthrough the kitchens and into the alley, where the Daimler waitedin its garage.Laurie had wondered where Kucharski and the otherswere, but his father had said they would follow on if Laurie gavethe lead.
