'If we call the police,' Kate said, 'they will kill Jack.'

Vernon didn't say anything for a moment. 'Kill him? My Jack... My boy. But who? Who are they, Kate? What have you done to get involved with these people?'

'It's a long story.'

'I got nothing better to do back here.'

'And we don't know half of it yet.'

'I don't care. Just tell me what you do know.'

'Okay. The guy the man who took Jack - is called Sampson. He used to work at the CRU...'

'The what?'

'The Cold Research Unit.'

'That place where they were hunting in vain for a cure for the cold? You stayed there when you were a student, right?'

'Yes.'

'And had a nice vacation, as you told me.'

Kate glanced at Paul. There was another feeling, beneath the terror and panic over what was going to happen to Jack, crawling beneath her skin: this awkwardness caused by the fact that she was in a car with Vernon and her new...well, what was he? Lover? Boyfriend? It was too weird. 'There's stuff I haven't told you about.'

Vernon snorted. 'Why doesn't that surprise me?'

'No it's stuff that I didn't tell you about because I couldn't remember it. It seems... apparently, I had my memory wiped.'

'You're kidding me.'

'Do you want me to tell you about this or not? If you do, stop interrupting. Okay? We discovered that there was something going on at the CRU. I went to see a hypnotherapist. That was after Mrs Bainbridge was shot.'

Vernon's mouth sprung open. 'I think you'd better explain from the beginning.'

So Kate did, telling him everything they'd discovered so far; the gaps they'd filled in. She told him about going to the CRU and meeting Stephen. About how she went back for a second stay. She recounted the night of the fire, when she had been sick, and Stephen and her room-mate Sarah had died, and how she, Kate, had woken up in a strange hospital.

Then Paul took over, telling Vernon about how he had received a letter from his brother shortly before the fire, a letter that made it clear that Stephen also knew that everything was not what it seemed. And there was the fact that Kate clearly remembered Sarah getting out of the building on the night of the fire although her parents were told she'd perished in the flames.

'So we went to see Mrs Bainbridge, the widow of Leonard, the man who ran the centre, my old family friend, and while we were there Sampson turned up and shot her. He chased us but we got away. Before she died, though, Mrs Bainbridge had given Kate some papers which described a procedure that had been done on her Kate while she'd been in hospital, altering her memory. So we went to see a hypnotherapist, who uncovered all these suppressed memories, including a conversation Kate overheard in the woods near the CRU.'

'And then Sampson came after Jack.'

There was silence in the car, just the sound of traffic rushing past on the other side of the road. Finally, Vernon said, 'So what do you think was going on at the CRU? And why is this happening now? I mean, it was over fifteen years ago, wasn't it?'

Kate thought back to what she'd learned from the hypnotherapy session. The conversation between Dr. Gaunt and the fat German had chilled her, even though she hadn't understood what they were talking about and didn't know what had happened next. But she must have gone looking for answers, her curiosity piqued. That was what she did: looked for answers. A curious cat. And others might have been killed because of her: Sarah, possibly. Stephen probably.

'I don't understand how they knew to come looking for me; how they knew I was back in the country,' Kate said. 'It's as if they've been watching me. It gives me the creeps.'

Vernon leaned forward again. 'What, you think these people have been keeping tabs on you all this time?'

'That means they've probably got some nice footage of you sneaking the lovely Shirl in and out of the house.'

'What? I never...'

'We're nearly in Oxford,' Paul said, in an attempt to get them to stop arguing.

'Oxford,' sighed Kate, picturing herself in her gown celebrating the end of her University exams. 'The last time my life was normal.' Then something came to her. 'Paul, do you remember on the news the other day there was that story about a scientist being murdered in his lab here? I can't remember his name but they definitely said he was a specialist in viruses.'

'You think Sampson could have had something to do with it?'

'It's possible, isn't it?'

Vernon leaned forward between their seats. 'Hey, can we just stay focussed on finding my son please?'

The reminder of what they were doing silenced them. Kate leant her head against the window and stared out at the lights of the motorway, the pa.s.sing cars, the illuminated signs above. She dreaded seeing a sign stating that there was an accident ahead.

They entered Oxford, driving around the ring road, still heading south.

'We're going to need petrol soon,' Paul said.

'You're joking.'

'Kate, don't panic. There are services ahead. It will only take a couple of minutes to stop and fill up. We're making good time.'

'If you're sure.'

'Yes.'

A few miles later they saw a sign for services and Paul pulled off the motorway, Kate drumming her hands on her knees with impatience as they waited for a pump to become vacant. Vernon got out of the car and paced around for a few minutes, going into the shop while Paul filled the tank.

As Paul went off to pay for the petrol, Vernon came back.

'I bought some chocolate. Do you want some? Got something called a Twix we could share it.'

Kate turned round in her seat. The petrol station lights cast an orange glow against Vernon's face. 'Chocolate? Do you really think I can eat at a time like this? My stomach is churning. Isn't yours?'

'Hey, I'm hungry, okay? For f.u.c.k's sake, quit nagging me. Like you pointed out earlier, you're not my wife anymore.'

'I never nagged you. I was always a good, dutiful wife, putting up with your indiscretions, entertaining all those boring professors and deans you were desperate to impress. I worked all day and came home and cooked your dinner and washed your underwear. I put up with your moods when the books you wrote failed to get published. I put up with your tempers and your outbursts. I taught you how to use your d.a.m.n mobile phones and got music onto your iPod for you. I gave you twelve years of my life. And I never nagged.'

Vernon shook his head. 'You never used to be like this. You've changed, Kate.'

She didn't look at him. Paul was walking back from the petrol station, his face downcast. He must have sensed that she was looking at him and he glanced up and smiled: the kind of small smile that says, 'I know I shouldn't be feeling any happiness right now but I can't help it'. And she felt a little jolt of love. She could still feel Paul's imprint on her, from when they had last made love.

'You're right, Vernon,' she said. 'I have changed.'

Paul got into the car and Kate leaned across and kissed him, not caring about the sensation of Vernon's eyes burning into them.

'Let's get on,' she said after pulling away.

They drove back onto the motorway. The minutes pa.s.sed: Kate watched them on the dashboard display, watched the speedometer, obsessed over the mileage on the signs they pa.s.sed. London 50 miles, 40 miles, 30 miles. They left the M40 and hit the M25. Still no sign of accidents or hold-ups. Paul put the radio on to check the travel news and everything seemed unnervingly normal.

This is all a dream, thought Kate. But when I wake up, where am I going to be? In Boston, still married to Vernon with him grumbling in his sleep beside me? Or in a London hotel, sweating with the anxiety of being caught?

Or back in 1990, at the flat she shared with Stephen? She'd wake up and find he was watching her as she slumbered, as he sometimes did, and he'd kiss her before she said, 'I had the strangest dream.'

CHAPTER 39.

They rolled into the small Suss.e.x village of Mayfield with half an hour to spare, pa.s.sing through silent country lanes, the headlights illuminating the trees that lined the road, eerie in the darkness. Not really knowing where to stop, Paul followed a gentle hill up to what appeared to be the main street. They parked outside a church with a graveyard stretching downhill beyond its wonky stone walls. There was no-one around, no lights in any windows. The village could be deserted, apart from them, and when Kate spoke she found herself whispering.

'So what do you think we do now?'

'Wait for the call,' Paul replied.

All three of them stared at the phone on the dashboard. Kate picked it up and pressed a b.u.t.ton, waking it up and making the screen shine. Paul reached across and rubbed Kate's shoulder, which made her start and pull away.

'Sorry. I'm so on edge.'

'Why don't we call this a.s.shole ourselves?' Vernon suggested.

Kate didn't bother turning to look at him. 'Because he told us not to.' She almost added, 'Stupid', but she was sick of squabbling with Vernon. He really wasn't worth it. Not any more. He'd never been worth it it was just that she'd taken a long time to realise it. It saddened her to think of all those wasted years, young years, when she could have been free, or with someone who would make her happy. Jack was the only good thing that had come from their marriage.

Jack. A wave of nausea and exhaustion swept over her as she pushed the door open, ready to be sick, wondering faintly if it was sinful to throw up in the grounds of a church, when the mobile rang, its jaunty tune ridiculously inappropriate.

Paul went to pick it up but she shoved his hand away, grabbed the phone and said, 'Yes? We're here. Where is he?'

'I knew you wouldn't let the boy down.' Sampson's voice was, as ever, cold and flat like an Arctic landscape.

'His name's Jack, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

'You sound...emotional.' He said the final word as if he were curious as to exactly what it meant. 'There's no need to be like that, Kate. This is a simple transaction. You give us what we want and we'll give you what you want.'

'But I don't even know what you want!' Kate felt like banging the phone against her forehead. Or better, smashing it against Sampson's skull. She realised with a cool clarity that she would kill him if it would save Jack. Hatred boiled inside her veins, making her feel more powerful but, at the same time, still weak and helpless because this was so out of her control. All she could do was to follow his instructions 'Who's in the car with you?' Sampson asked.

'Just...'

'Don't lie, Kate. That would be your worst mistake.'

'I'm with Paul. And Vernon.'

'Your boyfriend and your ex-husband. You're very popular. Doesn't this Wilson care that you f.u.c.ked his brother?'

Kate held her breath.

'Stephen Wilson was weak, when it came to the crunch. I expect his brother is no better. An old woman saved his life last time. He wouldn't be so lucky again...

'Here are your instructions. Drive out of Mayfield towards Tunbridge Wells. You'll pa.s.s a garage, then go straight across the roundabout. After that, you'll see a pub standing on its own to the left, with a car park behind it. Go into that car park.'

'Are you there now? With Jack?'

But he had already cut her off.

Kate relayed the instructions to Paul and Vernon. 'He said something about Stephen, too. It sounded like he knew what had happened. Like he was there.'

Paul's knuckles paled as he gripped the steering wheel. He executed a hasty three point turn and roared out of the village.

'What did Stephen's letter say again?'

Paul recited it from memory, where it had been seared for years: "Tell her she was right. And tell her to forgive me."

'Stephen must have known what was going on.'

'And Sampson found out that he knew.'

'But we still don't know what he wanted me to forgive him for.' A sickening thought crept into her head. 'Oh Paul, you don't think he was involved in some way, do you?'

Paul didn't answer. Kate a.s.sumed it was because he was concentrating on the road, but then he blurted: 'I have a gun.'

Kate's hand flew to her mouth. 'What?'

'In the boot of the car there's a gun. A shotgun. I took it from Andrew and Penny's house in Cannock Chase.'

'Paul... How could you? With your past and everything I thought you would do anything to avoid guns.'

But Vernon said, 'No, this is good news.'

'Do you know how to use a gun?' Paul demanded.

'Uh-huh. My father used to take me out hunting when I was young. I'm a pretty good shot.'

Kate knew this, as she and Vernon had argued about the tradition being pa.s.sed on to Jack. Kate abhorred the thought of it, of her son killing a helpless animal; Vernon insisted the blood rite would make him a man.

'You're not suggesting that we stage some kind of shoot-out with Sampson, are you? You're insane. Sampson is almost certainly better with a gun than either of you, and if Jack's going to be there I don't want guns going off, bullets going astray. Look what happened to Mrs Bainbridge. I really can't believe you would consider it.' At the same time she said all this, she pictured herself blowing a hole in Sampson's chest.

'I'm just saying it's an option,' Paul said.

'I think we should do it,' said Vernon. 'He won't be expecting us to have a gun. No-one in this stupid country has guns, normally, do they? Let's take him unawares.'

Kate slapped the dashboard. 'No! It's too dangerous. We have to do what they say. All I want is for Jack to be safe and he won't be safe if you two have a f.u.c.king shotgun pointed in his direction.'

Paul and Vernon exchanged a look, the kind of glance that pa.s.ses between men when the word 'women' sounds in their heads.