Perfect Strangers (38 page)

Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Thank you so much, I’ll treasure it.’

‘Could I just ask,’ said Josh. ‘Peter and Michael were obviously very close at Oxford. Why did they fall out?’

Miriam glanced at Sophie warily.

‘They always said it was over the boat. Peter bought out Michael’s share, and later regretted it. But it could have been something else. Mike said he and Peter used to make plans together, cooking up get-rich schemes to show all those toffee-nosed stuck-ups. They were going to move out to New York, take on Manhattan. But then . . .’ She looked at Sophie again. ‘But then Peter got married . . .’

Sophie nodded.

‘It’s okay, I know my mother wouldn’t have let him run off to America. Dad used to make a big thing about family being important, keeping the family firm going, but he was always looking at his sailing charts, always planning his big getaway. In some ways, I wish he had.’

‘Well, if what we’ve been told is true, perhaps they did come up with a get-rich scheme in the end,’ said Josh.

Sophie looked at the picture of
Iona
again. Up until this moment, she hadn’t been able to believe that her dad, this staid, boring accountant from Surrey, had been involved with a scheme which had swindled millions – billions, perhaps – from wealthy investors on both sides of the Atlantic. But now? Well, it was still hard for her to imagine, but at least now Peter Ellis had a motive. Perhaps it had all been a way of getting even for something that had happened at university. Had it just been revenge? She turned to Miriam.

‘Did Michael and my dad make up? I mean, could this story be true, that Peter and Michael cooked up the scheme together?’

Miriam shook her head.

‘If they did, I didn’t hear about it. Peter never came to dinner, I can tell you that. But then, I guess if his part in it was to hide the money, they would have kept their friendship a secret, wouldn’t they? Perhaps we’ll never know.’

Sophie looked at Miriam.

‘But I have to, Mrs Asner, I have to find out. I’m in danger, and I’m scared.’ To admit it out loud made the situation more real.

Miriam’s face softened.

‘You should speak to Andrea Sayer,’ she said quietly.

‘The lawyer you hate?’ Sophie asked, raising a brow.

Miriam nodded. ‘She’s spent long enough demanding things from me; now maybe it’s time she gave a little back. Andrea Sayer is always crowing about how she knows more about my husband’s case than anyone alive, so if anyone might know who this Benedict guy is, she will.’

‘And you’re thinking that it will annoy her having to speak to us?’ said Josh.

‘Maybe a little,’ laughed Miriam. ‘That woman’s so self-important, I’d love to see the look on her face when she meets someone who knows things about Michael Asner she doesn’t.’

The smile faded.

‘She’s based in Manhattan,’ she said, pulling a letter from a drawer and handing it to Josh. ‘Her address and phone number are on there. If you’re quick, you’ll be able to catch her before she leaves the office for the weekend. Although that woman is constantly on the job.’

‘What’s the quickest way to get to the city?’

‘Trains from Pleasantville station go all the way to Grand Central,’ replied Miriam. ‘My car’s in the garage or I’d run you to town.’

‘How far is the station?’ asked Josh.

‘Five miles west of here. There’s a bus stop just opposite the house. Or you could give ten dollars to Jim Bryant at the gas station and he’ll take you.’

They walked away from the house and out on to the road, looking for the bus stop. Josh tried to make banter but Sophie was deep in thought. It was strange: she’d gone to Miriam Asner’s expecting to hate her; she had been so angry that she had managed to ride out the waves of her husband’s maelstrom, escaping virtually unscathed whilst Sophie’s family, and hundreds like them, had lost everything. But now she only felt sorry for her. Miriam Asner was a woman who knew nothing except how to hold the perfect tea party or organise a wonderful dinner for her husband’s clients. Now she was alone, friendless and trapped in a little cottage on the edge of nowhere, where no one ever called. It was as if someone had chosen the perfect punishment for her.

They crossed the road and looked at the bus timetable. Sophie groaned: one hour until the next connection.

‘I can run five miles in about forty minutes,’ she said seriously.

‘You run. I’ll pay Jim Bryant my ten bucks,’ grinned Josh, hefting Sophie’s bag over his shoulder.

After they had been walking a few minutes, he glanced across at her.

‘So how are you feeling?’

Sophie shrugged.

‘Strange. I didn’t believe it, you know? About my dad, I mean. But now it feels real, like I can understand how it happened.’

‘You think what Miriam said was true? That they did it to get even with the posh kids who made them feel small?’

‘I don’t think we’ll ever know. If my dad was involved, I don’t believe he just did it for the money.’

‘Well, maybe . . .’

Josh trailed off and Sophie looked up at him.

‘What’s wrong?’

She noticed it as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Up ahead, a car had slowed to a stop and was sitting in the road. It hadn’t pulled over into a lay-by; it had just stopped dead, gunning its engine.

‘You know what? I think we’ll go the other way,’ said Josh, taking Sophie’s hand. But there wasn’t time. With a screech of tyre rubber on asphalt, the car leapt into motion, driving straight at them.

‘This way!’ shouted Josh, throwing the bag into a field to their right and bundling Sophie over the fence just as the car rushed by, missing him by millimetres and sending him pinwheeling into the dirt.

‘Josh!’ shouted Sophie, but he scrambled to his feet, swearing.

At the side of the road was a line of trees that marked the start of some woodland.

‘Grab the bag and make for the trees,’ he said through gritted teeth. He was limping, but he was moving, and that was all that mattered at that moment. Frantically she wondered if they could use his mobile to call the police. But how crazy would that phone call sound? ‘Can you help us, we’re being chased by hit men who are after a billion dollars of stolen loot. Yes, I know I put “vacation” on my customs form. No, I’m not on medication.’ There was no time to worry about that now, though, only time to act. She helped Josh squeeze through a gate, then felt her heart jump. Glancing back, she could see two men gaining on them. There were two tracks – one that led deep into the wood, and another that skirted around the perimeter.

‘This way,’ she hissed, taking the perimeter path. Josh stopped as if he was about to argue. She could see why he wanted to go into the trees. It was dark, with more places to hide. And yet there would be no one to see or help them. They would be murdered and the next people to find their bodies would be walkers in about two weeks’ time. She felt a surge of determination to escape.

‘Come on!’ she shouted.

They were both fast runners but they could not outrun a bullet. Expecting a shot at any moment, she willed her legs to move even quicker until her muscles throbbed and her lungs ached.

‘It’s the gas station,’ she panted, noticing some buildings up ahead.

They began running as fast as they could, Josh hampered by his injured knee but still managing to keep up with Sophie, her bag slamming against her legs. The gas station was in full view, a little two-pump affair with a wooden shack behind it.

‘Oh no,’ she gasped and skidded to a halt, Josh almost falling over her in the process.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he panted.

‘There,’ she said, pointing. Driving slowly out from behind the house was another SUV with blacked-out windows.

‘Shit,’ said Josh, swivelling around the other way. ‘We’re trapped. The others have doubled back.’

Sophie looked behind him and could see the first car coming towards them at speed.

‘Which way?’ she said, her hands on her knees. They clearly wouldn’t get far cross-country, and their way back to Miriam’s was blocked. As they watched, the SUV at the garage began to power towards them, its wheels kicking up dust.

‘Grab my hand,’ said Josh. ‘When I say jump, go left.’

‘What?’ said Sophie, but Josh was already up and pulling her along with him – straight towards the gas station and the oncoming car.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ yelled Sophie.

‘Playing chicken!’ shouted Josh. ‘One . . . two . . . jump!’

He yanked her to the left and they leapt together, landing on a grassy embankment, rolling over and over, finally coming to rest with Josh lying full-length on top of her, the bag jammed painfully between them. Looking over Josh’s shoulder, she could see the SUV skidding to a halt diagonally across the road, blocking it. The doors opened.

‘They’re coming,’ she gasped as they scrambled to their feet.

An old red pick-up truck was pulling into the garage.

‘Help us!’ screamed Sophie.

The driver had white hair and a startled expression.

‘What’s going on?’ Sophie glanced at the name embroidered over the man’s shirt pocket.

‘You. You’re Jim Bryant? We’re friends of Miriam Asner. She said you’d help us. Please. Those men are after us.’

‘Get in,’ he growled.

They ran round to the passenger door of the truck and jumped into the big bucket seat inside.

‘You folks didn’t kill no one, did yer?’ said Jim as he fired the engine.

‘No, but it’s a long story. Please, just trust us and get us out of here,’ pleaded Josh.

‘She-it, boy,’ smiled Jim, revealing a missing canine. ‘In that case, think we’d better go the quiet way.’

He slammed the truck into drive, twisting the wheel away from the road and jerking off down a farm track hidden behind the line of trees. Sophie turned in her seat to look out of the back window: she couldn’t see either SUV or the men, but she still didn’t feel safe, even though Jim was putting distance between them with every skidding turn, cutting across fields and skirting farmhouses, almost completely avoiding the roads.

‘You might want to watch your heads,’ he shouted as they thunked into a pothole and bounced straight out again, flying out of their seats and bumping against the roof. He wrenched the wheel to the right and the truck skidded through a gap in some trees and careered up through a dry river bed, sending stones flying in their wake.

Who was after them? wondered Sophie, confident that they had left them behind. The Russians? The FBI? It could have been anyone. All that counted right now was getting away. They could worry about all the rest later.

‘Thanks for helping us, Mr Bryant,’ she said, raising her voice to be heard over the thrumming engine.

‘Call me Jim, sweetness. And you’re welcome. Don’t agree with what her scumbag husband did to all his investors, but Miriam is a pretty foxy lady.’

He paused to downshift as they turned on to a road, a single-lane blacktop that wound down into a grove of red oaks, the sunshine only leaking through in shafts of brilliant yellow.

Josh looked at him. ‘Could that have been the FBI back there?’

Jim shrugged. ‘Why? You something to do with her husband?’

‘My father was an old friend of Michael Asner,’ explained Sophie.

‘Her house is being watched, that’s for sure. Mine’s the only gas station in three miles, they got to get their reg’lar and their Twinkies somewhere. They been sitting there for months with those wires in their ears.’

‘We need to get to Manhattan,’ said Sophie, desperate to get away from Pleasantville.

‘If you pay for the gas, I’ll take you all the way. If you’re trying to avoid some folks, that’s the best way to get to the city. No, ol’ Jim knows all the back roads from here to Hazzard County.’

He winked, and Sophie leant over to kiss his leathery cheek.

‘You’re a very kind man,’ she said as Jim blushed.

He turned to Josh.

‘You’ve got a good girl,’ he smiled. ‘You look after her, y’hear? My Martha passed not two years since, and ain’t a day goes by I don’t think of her. Woman couldn’t cook for shit, but she was a good one. You find yourself a good one, you hold on to her, okay?’

Sophie glanced at Josh, but he turned and looked out of the window, small spots of colour in the centre of his cheeks.

‘I’ll try, Mr Bryant,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll certainly try.’

35

Ruth couldn’t quite believe that there were people working out at the gym at eight o’clock on a Friday night.
Haven’t these people heard of pubs?
she thought as she peered through the glass partition of the Red Heart at a dozen people still working the machines. She looked at her watch, eager to get this over with. Ian Fox had texted her back, clearly intrigued, and they were due to meet when his shift finished at nine p.m.

‘Can I help you?’

Ruth turned to see a cute, ruddy-faced young man wearing the club uniform – a red T-shirt and black jogging bottoms with the logo of a heart doing press-ups. His plastic name badge read ‘Hi, I’m Mike’.

‘I certainly hope you can help me,’ said Ruth, flashing him a smile.
Steady, Ruth
, she reminded herself.
Remember what happened last night
.

Reaching into her bag, she introduced herself and handed him a business card.

‘I wanted to ask a few questions about Sophie Ellis. I’m sure you’ve heard she’s got mixed up in something?’

‘I guessed as much,’ he said hesitantly. ‘The police were here yesterday, going through her locker and everything.’

He began to look uncomfortable.

‘I’m only the assistant junior manager.’ He gave a nervous laugh. ‘Kind of a glorified receptionist, really. Sharif – he’s the owner – is out at a meeting at the moment.’

‘That’s okay. It was you I wanted to talk to anyway,’ lied Ruth. Make them feel important, they’ll give you more. Another one of her dad’s maxims. ‘I understand you’re a good friend of Sophie’s?’

She was amused to see that Mike’s face instantly flushed pink.

‘Well, yes. Not close, which is a shame, because she’s lovely.’ Another nervous laugh. ‘I probably shouldn’t have said that, should I? Now you’re going to think I doffed that bloke at the Riverton out of unrequited love.’