She nodded. "I'll talk to her. Maybe we can get a relief nanny for a few hours."

  "Good."

  She glanced at the card. "Please, Doctor Freer, tell me what you meant when you said that Verity will find it progressively easier to resist. Resist what?"

  "Let me explain tonight, in private," he said. Then, casting an anxious glance at the upstairs landing he hurried out, down the porch steps and over to the taxi.

  Susan stood watching as he opened the rear door and clambered in. Then she caught a glimpse of the driver's face as he turned to greet the priest with a broad smile.

  Her mouth fell open in shock. "No," she whispered. "No. No. No."

  Even before the priest's door had closed, the car was accelerating fiercely away, the tyres squealing on the road.

  Racked by shivers she tripped down the steps and broke into a run: "Stop!" she screamed. "Stop! Get out! Doctor! Doctor Freer! Get out! Oh, please get out!"

  She sprinted helplessly after the car, watching it draw further and further away. The brake lights came on, but it barely stopped at the junction at the far end before turning right and disappearing.

  "Stop!" she yelled, futilely. "Please stop! For God's sake get out!" She sank to her knees in the middle of the road, sobbing. The driver's face burned in her mind. The smile.

  That same smile she had seen before when he had come to fix the telephones. That smile as he had come towards her in the clinic. It was him. She was certain beyond any doubt.

  The driver was the man from Telecom.

  Chapter Seventy

  John played well.

  For the first time in many weeks he felt relaxed. He'd had a couple of beers, heard some new jokes. For a few precious hours, his troubles with Susan and Sarotzini had been pushed into the background. As he turned into his street, he was replaying in his mind his chip out of the trees on the fourteenth, which had struck the pin and gone down for an eagle, winning him the game. Still revelling in the memory, he pulled up outside the house.

  Something was wrong.

  Susan's car was gone.

  His immediate reaction was that the car had been stolen - she hadn't driven since they had come back from the States. The little VW had been standing on the patch of concrete outside the house for weeks.

  John ran into the house and was greeted by the nanny, who came hurriedly downstairs, dolled up with make-up. and smartly dressed in white trousers and a jacket. He could tell from her expression that something was wrong. "Oh, I thought it might be Mrs. Carter coming back," she said.

  "She's gone out? In the car?"

  "With Verity," she said, nervously. "Where?"

  "I don't know, Mr. Carter."

  "What do you mean you don't know?" he said, snapping at her and then immediately regretting it. "Sorry."

  She smiled understandingly. "Mrs. Carter sent me out to the shops to get some groceries shortly after the gentleman - the priest - left. When I got back she and Verity had gone."

  "What time was that?"

  "About two o'clock."

  "She didn't tell you she was going out?"

  "No."

  John looked at his watch; it was seven twenty.

  "I've been worried - perhaps something was wrong with Verity and she took her to the doctor or the hospital," the nanny said. Then, sounding more reassuring than she looked, she added, "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

  "Five hours? What did the priest want?"

  "I don't know," she said, openly.

  "This was the man who arrived as I was leaving?"

  "Yes."

  "You didn't hear anything he said to my wife?"

  "No, he wanted to talk to her in private."

  John looked at her distractedly. "He didn't say anything to you?"

  "No."

  "And there's been no call, no message?"

  "No, nothing. There were several visitors to see Mrs. Carter and the baby - I told them they'd have to come back." She swallowed nervously. "There is one thing - I don't know if it's significant - but as the priest was leaving, Mrs. Carter ran after the car. I don't know if he'd forgotten something, but she came back looking extremely distressed."

  John frowned, then thought for a moment. "Freer. Doctor Freer. Was that his name?"

  "I - I think that's how you introduced him."

  Out in the street a car hooted. The nanny made a move towards the door, but John got there first and saw a dilapidated Citroin 2CV outside, with the engine running. There was a young man in the driver's seat.

  "Oh, that's my friend," the nanny said. "I'll just go and tell him I have to cancel tonight - I've been trying to phone him but he's been at a cricket match all day."

  "You're going to a concert, aren't you?"

  "I'll cancel it, Mr. Carter. I was going to tell him when he arrived. I didn't want to go until Mrs. Carter got back."

  "Go," John said. "No point ruining your evening." She looked hesitant. "Don't you think I -?"

  "Go," he said. "Have a good time!"

  "You're really sure?"

  "Yes."

  She looked delighted. "Thanks! She waved cheerily at the driver of the car, then darted back inside to fetch her bag. She told John she'd be home early, and then she was gone.

  John lugged in his golf bag and trolley from the car, and stored them away in the cupboard under the stairs, his brain racing. Sarotzini hadn't taken her. If she and Verity had been snatched she wouldn't have driven in her car. Where was she?

  Had she gone back to America? No, surely not. Then where?

  He went into the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialled directory enquiries. When they answered, he asked if there was a Canon Freer listed, and gave them a variety of spelling options.

  He was given two numbers. One was a flat in the Brompton Road. The other was at University College, London. He tried the flat first and got an answering machine. He left a message, asking for Canon Freer to call him back, urgently. Then he tried the university number.

  There was no answer.

  The double glazing made the room eerily quiet. It was a fine evening outside: the London skyline, streaked with crimson, had a pink hue.

  Verity was feeding hungrily. Behind her, the television was on, mute. Susan surfed the channels with the remote barely noticing anything. Inside her head she surfed her brain in the same detached way.

  She was crying. She had been crying all afternoon. She was thinking about Euan Freer. What had happened to him? The same thing that had happened to Fergus, Harvey, Zak Danziger and maybe even Archie Warren? She had phoned the numbers on his card repeatedly, every half-hour, desperate to hear that he was unharmed, that he was home, that she had only imagined the man from Telecom's face in the minicab.

  And she was crying for her loss of Fergus. He had been trying so hard to tell her something and she hadn't listened - not in the way that he'd needed her to listen.

  Susan, did Fergus explain to you what you have here in your house?

  Your baby must have the protection of the Church. And you and your husband.

  Verity's tiny hand was stroking her breast as she fed. Susan stared down, feeling an immense closeness and love for her. It was incredible: this was her baby, she had carried this creature inside her body and now her body was feeding her. Never underestimate her, Mrs. Carter, never make that mistake. Please, always remember that in the years ahead.

  She looked so pretty, so innocent, so adorable, in her white cotton all-in-one sailor outfit. How could she ever change?

  The man from Telecom. Would he come along one day and change her? Her mind was drifting. The pink hue outside was deepening.

  Fergus had tried to warn her and she hadn't listened. He had tried to tell her what she might be bringing into the world and she hadn't wanted to hear.

  "I'm not going to let them," she whispered. "They think they can come and take you one day and use you in their rituals. But they can't. I will never let them, never. I promised you that when you were just I'll ole Bump inside me. Remember that?"

  When Verity finished feeding, Susan opened her handbag and took out the number Mr. Sarotzini had given her, where he had assured her he could be reached day and night. She dialled it.

  He answered on the second ring.

  "Mr. Sarotzini," she said. "It's Susan Carter."

  There was a pause and then he said, pleasantly, "Hello, Susan, how are you?"

  "I want you to listen to me very carefully. I'm on the fourteenth floor of the London Hilton and I have Verity in my arms. If you don't do exactly what I tell you, I'm taking her with me out of the window."

  Chapter Seventy-one

  Klindz said, "Let me talk to her."

  He had driven the Mercedes limousine to Heathrow because he wanted to be with Mr. Sarotzini when he went to Susan.

  "Just take me to the London Hilton in Park Lane, Stefan. You are familiar with this hotel?"

  Mr. Sarotzini was sitting in the rear of the car. It was dark and Klindz could not see Mr. Sarotzini's face in the mirror, and this made him uncomfortable. Mr. Sarotzini was in a bad mood and this made him uncomfortable also. Klindz wanted him to be in a good mood when he met Susan, because he was afraid for her. She was behaving foolishly; he needed to speak to her, to warn her of the dangers of angering Mr. Sarotzini.

  Oh, Susan, Susan, my darling Susan, why have you done this?

  It was Saturday night, and the traffic was heavy. The drive in from the airport took forty-five minutes, and it was nearly eleven when they pulled up outside the hotel entrance. A boisterous group of people in evening dress came out through the revolving doors.

  Mr. Sarotzini had said nothing on the journey, and only broke his silence now to say, "Wait here."

  The rear door opened. Klindz heard the rustle of a bank-note, and then the doorman was in front of him, waving him forward into a space on the packed forecourt. Anxiously he watched Mr. Sarotzini enter the hotel. Then he peered up. Susan was in a room: her light might be any of the ones he could see.

  Please be sensible, Susan, oh, please be a sensible girl. I don't want to have to punish you.

  Every day Klindz tried to avoid thinking about the baby, but he couldn't help it. Mr. Sarotzini had promised him that one day he would be together with Susan. He, Susan and Verity, the three of them together, a family, a unit, a trinity. He longed to hold the baby in his arms, the tiny creature with Susan's red hair that was his daughter, to have her look into his eyes and reach out her arms towards him, and to hear her say, Daddy! Instead it was John Carter's eyes that she looked into.

  For the past four weeks he had been experiencing new and confusing emotions. He saw the world in a different light, a world that no longer centred around himself but around his tiny child. How he wished he could sweep Susan up in his arms and kiss her tenderly and tell her that it was he, not Mr. Sarotzini, who was the father and that they were going to be together for ever, that he would protect her and Verity. No one would ever harm either of them. And how he wished he could tell her that Mr. Sarotzini sanctioned their love!

  Oh, Susan, will you ever know quite how much I love you? Will your child -our child? Will she? Please, you must be sensible, my darling, you must not play games with Mr. Sarotzini.

  You must not jeopardize our future happiness.

  Emil Sarotzini got out of the elevator at the fourteenth floor, oriented himself with the room numbers, then turned left, walked down the corridor and stopped outside room 1401. A do not disturb sign hung on the door. He rang the bell.

  There was no answer.

  He rang the bell again, for longer. Then waited. Then he rang the bell again.

  At last he heard the sound of a safety chain being removed. It was followed by the clunk of a lock. Then the door opened and he was confronted by a large, bearded man, in a white towelling dressing-gown. A blonde girl was sitting up in the bed and leather clothing was strewn on the floor.

  "Who the fuck are you?" the man asked, in a thick, Irish accent.

  Holding his ground and his icy calm, Mr. Sarotzini replied, "I've come to see Susan Carter."

  "Who?" The man's surprise was clearly genuine.

  "Susan Carter," he repeated.

  "You've got the wrong fucking room." He slammed the door. Through the spyhole of room 1402, opposite, Susan watched Mr. Sarotzini turn and walk away. Verity, who had enjoyed her eight p.m. feed, was sleeping peacefully.

  "Why did you not check, Stefan? Why did you not confirm for me that Susan Carter was where she said she was2"

  "There are other Hiltons in London," Kundz replleu. "it is possible that-"

  "No." Mr. Sarotzini cut him short. "It is not possible. She was most specific. Room 1401 of the London Hilton in Park Lane. They have no Susan Carter registered. They are not aware of any woman with a baby staying in this hotel."

  Klindz felt a burst of happiness that Susan had not been there. He had been scared for her; there was no knowing what Mr. Sarotzini might do when he was angry, but now there was a paradox. Susan was not there, so Mr. Sarotzini had not been able to harm her. So Susan was safe. But this had inflamed Mr. Sarotzini's anger more. So now she was in even greater danger.

  Oh, Susan, I'm so proud of you. Stay flee, run, hide, stay free, you and my baby, our baby, our daughter!

  And, suddenly, Klindz had a plan forming in his mind. If he could find her, he could help her to hide. He could keep Mr. Sarotzini away from her.

  But that would be disloyal to Mr. Sarotzini. He had never been disloyal to Mr. Sarotzini in his life. He was not even sure he could be disloyal, however much he wanted to. Even the idea made him afraid.

  Then the thought of what Mr. Sarotzini might make him do to Susan, to punish her, made him even more afraid. He could still hear Claudie's screams sometimes, when he closed his eyes, and that was difficult. He did not know how he would cope with Susan screaming - he was afraid that perhaps he might not be able to handle that.

  "I will find her," he said, as he pulled up the Mercedes outside Mr. Sarotzini's club.

  "That will not be necessary, Stefan. Susan will contact me again. She is unbalanced. When people are unbalanced they have to be treated very carefully, you need to understand that. You will now return to your flat in Earl's Court. I will call you in the morning."

  For the first time ever, Klindz disobeyed Mr. Sarotzini's instructions. He did not drive home, but instead to South London, to the Carters" street, where he parked the Mercedes a safe distance away from the Carters" house.

  He could see John Carter's BMW, but there was no sign of Susan's Volkswagen. As he switched off the engine he felt a sudden deep swirl of fear. Did Mr. Sarotzini know he was here? What would he do to him if he found out?

  Klindz knew the answer to that. But he knew also that Mr. Sarotzini could not know that he was here. Unless, and now he was worried again, unless he could pick up Klindz's fear. But he doubted that tonight. Mr. Sarotzini was weary from the journey, it was late, he would be going to sleep.

  It was worth the risk. It was worth everything.

  He stayed in the Mercedes, watching, listening. The nanny was a loose cannon. She could return home at any time, she might already be back now, although he didn't think so, there had been no voice-print activity from her in the house since seven thirty this evening. Just to make sure, he dialled in on his mobile phone and activated the remote playback. Nothing there of consequence. Just a series of phone calls from John to friends asking if they had seen Susan. Now he was calling the police, telling them his wife had had a breakdown and gone off with their baby.

  Maybe John Carter really did not know where she was. Or maybe it was just a great act.

  Klindz had wanted to arrange a special nanny for Susan but he had not been permitted to do so. Mr.-Sarotzini was insistent that Verity should be brought up in a normal environment. He had reminded Klindz of the words of the Twenty-third Truth, which stated, "I hear and I forget; I see and I remember; I do and I understand."

  Mr. Sarotzini wanted Verity to do and to understand. To live in the ordinary world and, by doing so, to understand it better. When she was older, that was when they would begin their work on her. Until then, it was necessary to protect her but nothing more.

  It had been useful having Susan and John Carter away from the house for three weeks. This had enabled Klindz to conceal the monitoring equipment so well that no one would ever find it, not unless they demolished the house brick by brick - and, he prided himself, unlikely even then.

  He let himself in through the front door, using his own key, closed it carefully and moved swiftly to the bottom of the stairs, where he would be out of sight of anyone emerging either from the kitchen or the drawing room. He could hear John's voice on the telephone: it was coming from the drawing room.

  Then he stood still for a few moments, breathing in Susan's scents, savouring them. It was so good to smell her again this strongly. The house needed this, needed her smells - it had been such a lonely place without them while she was away in America. Now she was everywhere again, she was all around him, and that made him deliriously happy.

  He felt he had come home.

  Whisky and cigarette smoke came to him strongly. Reluctantly, he tuned out Susan's scents and began to concentrate on his task here. He moved stealthily up to the drawing-room door, which was ajar, and peered in.

  The television was on, the sound muted. John Carter was sitting on a sofa with his back towards him, talking, it sounded, to a hospital.

  Klindz waited, the hatred he felt for this man powering up inside him, increasing with every second that he watched him, until, like a demon possessing him, it took control and moved him forward, closer, silently covering the few yards of carpet until he was right behind John. On the television, two men were sitting by a campfire, smoking cigarettes and, although he could not hear them now, Klindz knew they talking about the meaning of life. He had seen this film also: the men were talking crap, it had angered him then and it added to his anger now.

  He waited until John finished his call and hung up the receiver, and then he said, "Good evening, Mr. Carter."

  John spun his head round, and Klindz hit him, three inches beneath the chin, with a karate chop that knocked him off the sofa and on to the floor but was not heavy enough to break his neck. Klindz did not want to kill him too quickly.