‘For fuck’s sake, get off your knees.’ Harville sounded utterly appalled. ‘Get up, man. Didn’t our alma mater teach you anything about self-respect?’
‘Didn’t it teach you anything about compassion?’ said Ross, with what sounded like a sob.
Jason had to hand it to the guy. He was playing a blinder in there.
But he mustn’t get distracted by the amateur dramatics. Somehow he had to find out where Deano was, and try to get him out. If he was still alive.
He tiptoed towards the door, putting his eye to the crack to try and work out what lay beyond. It was a hall, off which all the other rooms of the house lay, apart from an upstairs area in the roof. Nobody appeared to be in the hall, which was only lit by the shaft of brightness spilling out of the open living room door.
He took a deep breath and nudged the kitchen door open further, stepping into the hall. It was shabby, with fraying carpets and peeling wallpaper. A photograph of some old-fashioned guy in a military uniform hung cockeyed over a broken umbrella stand.
There was shouting coming from the living room now, and Harville appeared to be ordering his goons to get Ross out of there. Shit.
Jason opened the nearest door, which proved to be a broom cupboard, and stuffed himself into the narrow space.
More scuffling and shouting, and what sounded like punching, ensued.
Christ. He hadn’t meant for Ross to get himself beaten up. He itched to leap out of the cupboard and join the fray – but that wouldn’t solve the problem at hand.
‘Get out of here,’ shouted Lawrence. ‘No, don’t get up. Crawl. On your hands and knees. It’s all you’re good for. Boys, give him the order of the boot.’
From the crack between the hinges of the slightly ajar cupboard door, Jason saw Ross crawl out, his nose bleeding and his glasses broken, while the two hulking goons followed him, aiming kicks at his backside to hurry him along.
Harville laughed as he watched, then he came into the hall and opened a door opposite the cupboard.
Jason had presumed this to be another cupboard, because it was right next to the kitchen door, but apparently it wasn’t, for a light was snapped on and the sound of feet descending stone steps could be heard.
A cellar! He narrowly avoided saying the words out loud.
The goons were occupied with Ross. It would be him – and hopefully Deano – against Harville. Jason flitted back into the kitchen and found the biggest, sharpest knife in the block, then returned to the cellar door and opened it, heart thumping.
Harville had gone into a room at the bottom of the stairs and shut the door.
He thought of a phrase Mia had used a lot: don’t be a hero.
Had he ever taken any notice? No, and the result had usually been detention, or suspension, or arrest.
Mia had never wanted a hero, but he thought Jenna would. Jenna wanted to respect him and admire him. And he wanted, more than anything, to be respected and admired by her.
But he would have to make sure nothing happened in the heat of the moment with that knife. It was purely for leverage or self-defence, not for actual attack.
Or so he hoped.
Jenna was at the hotel in minutes.
Before asking to be shown up to Parker’s suite, she had a quick word with the receptionist.
‘Are you sure?’ she said, having found out what she wanted to know.
‘Oh yes. A very smartly dressed man, thirties, brown hair, blue eyes. They definitely seemed to know each other. And they left together.’
‘Thanks. Could you let Parker van Steenburgen in Suite 2 know that Jenna Myatt is here, please?’
Parker came down in a flap, hugging Jenna far too tightly and sobbing all over her T-shirt.
‘Parker, it’s OK. Deano did meet up with Lawrence Harville. The receptionist saw them together.’
‘Oh my God, really? Seriously? But I asked him – I mean, Harville – and he said they hadn’t …’