The Ben Hope Collection: 6 BOOK SET. Scott Mariani
Читать онлайн книгу.
forever, can I? At some point I’m going to have to go to them. If someone murdered Oliver…’
‘I understand. You want justice.’
‘Yes. I want my brother’s murderer to be brought to trial. Don’t you?’
‘I want my friend’s murderer to pay.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘I don’t trust the system. I do things my own way.’
‘I noticed,’ she said.
‘It’s what works.’
‘My idea of justice isn’t a bullet in the head.’
‘I don’t like it any more than you do.’
‘But that is what you do. Isn’t it?’
Ben said nothing.
There was silence for a while. Leigh watched the foggy road and listened to the rhythm of the wipers.
It was all so overwhelming, so alien. She felt as though she was spinning away from reality, wandering without a map or a compass. At times she could hardly believe any of this was really happening. She thought about the life she’d left behind, the people and the routine that were back there in the real world waiting for her. They seemed a million miles away. Her life had been hectic, crazy, a constant blur of travel and endless rehearsals and performances, one opera house and hotel after another. But it had been organized and safe.
Now all that had fallen apart. Would things ever go back to the way they’d been? Where was this going to end? She rested her head in her hands.
Ben passed her the flask. ‘Have some.’
‘I think I will.’ She took several long sips. ‘You get used to this stuff,’ she said, passing it back to him.
‘Tell me about it.’ He drank some as well.
She felt a little better. ‘So what about this Detective Kinski?’ she said.
‘If you want to see him, we’ll see him. But first we need to find Arno. Maybe he can help us to make some sense out of this mess.’
They reached Ravenna sometime after ten in the evening and found a little pensione in the outskirts. Ben checked in as Mr Connors and let them assume Leigh was his wife. They didn’t ask for papers and were happy with cash up front. The landlady took them up the stairs. She unlocked a door, handed them the key and left them alone.
The room was small and simple. ‘Only one bed,’ Leigh said. It was a double, and it took up most of the space.
‘I just asked for a room,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know.’ He dumped his haversack on an armchair and opened a creaky wardrobe. There were some spare blankets in it. He threw them down in a heap on the floor. ‘I have to be in the same room as you, Leigh. I can’t sit outside your door all night.’
‘You don’t have to sleep on the floor,’ she said. ‘We can share the bed. If you want to, that is.’
‘Chris might not be too pleased about that,’ he replied, and immediately wished he hadn’t said it.
She frowned. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘Nothing. Forget it. I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s no big deal. I’ve slept on a million floors.’
‘No, what did you mean about Chris?’
‘Let’s not talk about it.’
‘You’re talking about what happened on the Isolde, aren’t you? What did you think you saw?’
‘Look, it’s none of my business what goes on between you and Chris.’
‘Nothing at all goes on between us.’
‘OK, that’s fine.’
‘It’s over between me and Chris,’ she said. ‘It’s been over for years.’
‘You seemed to be getting on pretty well together.’ He knew he was saying too much, digging himself into a hole and sounding a lot more like a jealous lover than he cared to admit.
She flushed. ‘It wasn’t what it looked like.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me.’ He pulled a bottle of wine out of his bag and started opening it. ‘Want some?’
She shook her head. ‘You drink it. And I’m not justifying myself.’ She sighed. ‘All right, it’s true that Chris wants to get back together with me,’ she admitted. ‘That’s what you saw. But the feeling is definitely not mutual, and it’s not going to happen.’ She kicked off her shoes and reclined on the bed. ‘When it’s over, it’s over. It’s never a good idea to go back.’ She glanced at Ben.
He blew the dust out of a glass on the bedside table and filled it with wine. Knocked it back and filled it up again. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s never a good idea to go back.’
Bordeaux, France
Earlier that evening
The auditorium was packed and bustling. The lecture was being held at Bordeaux University’s Faculty of Politics and Economics. It was open to the public and people were standing in the aisles. Attendance figures were unprecedented. The organizers couldn’t remember the last time a talk by a rising politician had generated so much intense excitement.
There were police and security everywhere outside under the gentle snow. Barricades had been erected for Philippe Aragon’s motorcade to pass through, and massive crowds had gathered to cheer and wave banners. The police had managed to cordon off the estimated two hundred shaven-headed neo-fascist demonstrators who had come to yell and wave their swastikas in protest. One of them had tried to set fire to an effigy of Aragon before the police had grabbed him and bundled him into a van. A scuffle had broken out, and media crews rushed in to get a shot as three cops were dragged away bleeding and a dozen more battered protesters were arrested.
Henri Juste, the University Chancellor, smiled for the cameras as he walked out from behind the heavy curtains and made his way across the stage. Behind the podium, Aragon’s Party slogan L’Europe REDECOUVERTE stood fifteen feet high on a giant screen. It encapsulated Aragon’s policies perfectly. A new Europe, a rediscovered land. Ecological. Green. Filled with hope and promise. The flags of the united European states were on display. In the wings and the control centre above the auditorium, armed security personnel scrutinized monitors and scanned the crowd.
Now, ranks of officers gathered tensely on standby behind riot shields, batons and tear gas at the ready. Well away from the trouble, television crews and newspaper reporters were out in force and hoping for blood.
Juste reached the podium. He raised his arms and the hum of excited chatter from the packed theatre dwindled. ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Our speaker tonight needs no introduction. No modern political figure has ever risen to prominence or gathered such overwhelming public support so surely and so quickly. He has been hailed as the Brussels JFK. A pioneering environmentalist architect. A philanthropist who has personally donated millions to protect the underprivileged. A tireless campaigner for the improvement of educational standards. At forty-one, the youngest ever candidate for the Vice-Presidency of the European Commission. His audacious policies and progressive vision of a truly integrated Europe, and his goal to rid Europe of its dependence on nuclear energy, have placed him firmly at the forefront of European politics. Ladies and gentlemen: Philippe Aragon.’
The Chancellor stepped away from the podium and extended his arm as Philippe Aragon walked confidently out onto the