Chasing Dreams

by Susan Lewis

  Michael’s heart gave a thump of alarm. ‘You mean they’re going to do as I asked and let me see Cavan?’ he said.

  Ferrante shrugged. ‘Could be,’ he responded.

  ‘So what do I do?’ Michael asked.

  ‘Well, as we don’t got any of the technology and back-up we usually got in these situations,’ Ferrante answered, ‘we go with what we got. Meaning, you give me enough time to get my car round to the front of the hotel, then you go down and find out what it’s all about. If you get in the car they’ve got waiting, remember, there’s no guarantees they’re going to take you to your brother, nor of them letting you out alive. But the way I see it it’s not in their interest to let anything happen to you yet. They want those depositions and they want them real bad. And Pastillano might have been dumb enough to lock Antônio up with an ex-inmate, but we can’t count on him being that dumb again. Now, we don’t have time to hang about here; if we do, they’re going to start getting suspicious. So just remember, whatever you do, keep telling ’em we’ve got the depositions. If they ask where they are, say someone’s bringing them to you just before the six o’clock deadline. OK?’

  Michael nodded. ‘OK,’ he repeated.

  Ferrante shook his head. ‘This could turn out to be a smart move on their part,’ he said, obviously not liking the situation too much. ‘No advance warning a car’s on its way, no setting up a meet, just, boom, the car’s there, get in if you dare.’

  Michael watched him leave and tried not to feel as though his lifeline was being reeled in. Though he knew there was no way he would back out, he still couldn’t help wondering if he really had the courage to go through with this – after all, he was an entertainment agent, for God’s sake, not James fucking Bond. He looked at the gun Ferrante had left for him and thought of Cavan and Michelle, and most of all Robbie. He had no reason to be so afraid for his son, but the spectre of never getting to see him was haunting him night and day. There was no clarity in his mind as to whether his fear was based on something happening to Robbie, or if it was to do with getting himself killed in the attempt to free Cavan. Probably it was both. All he knew for certain was that he was prepared to do whatever it took to get them all out of this alive, and with Michelle being freed at any moment and Robbie being kept in a safe place, the only one he had to concern himself with was Cavan.

  The dark Mercedes saloon, with black-tinted windows, was waiting right outside the hotel entrance. As he approached it a doorman stepped forward, opened the rear door and from the darkness inside he was told to get in.

  Fighting the urge to make sure Ferrante was in sight, he did as he was told. As he slammed the door closed he heard the click of the central locking cutting off his escape, then noticed the dividing screen between passenger and driver compartments sliding shut. Sitting adjacent to him, his back to the road ahead and a gun pointing straight at Michael’s chest was a thick-set, cheap-suited man whose face, except for the limpid brown eyes, was hidden by a grey, woollen mask.

  ‘The gun,’ he said, pointing his own towards the one in Michael’s pocket.

  Michael’s mouth was turning dry, as handing the weapon over he felt the car pulling away.

  ‘Put this on,’ the man commanded, tossing over a blindfold.

  Michael took it, looked at it, then, hearing the click of the gun’s hammer being pulled back he slipped it on, attempting to position it so that he could at least get a glimpse of where they were going.

  The car was moving out on to the Avenue Atlantico and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost his bearings completely. For some odd and unidentifiable reason he found himself thinking about Ellen and the things he’d been planning to say before Cavan’s call had come and blown it all apart. Then, realizing why he was thinking about her now, his blood turned cold. A rogue instinct, that had come out of nowhere, was suddenly telling him that he was never going to see her again. Then it hit him why, and he could hardly believe what idiots he and Ferrante had been not to have seen through this straight away. Ferrante had said it could be a smart move on their part and now Michael was realizing just how smart. For by allowing no time to think, to plan, not even to second guess, they had lured Michael into what had to be the easiest kidnapping in history. And the only reason they’d need to do that was because they needed another hostage to take Cavan’s place.

  He tried to tell himself he was overreacting, but as he heard the crashing and grinding of metal behind him he knew instantly what it meant, that Ferrante had just been very effectively ambushed and he was now completely on his own, heading for God only knew where … or what.

  Chapter 26

  A DOZEN OR so paparazzi were waiting outside the prison when Michelle was led across the dusty courtyard to a Volkswagen Santano. As she was driven away the press crowded about the car, eager for a shot of her pale, bruised face and shouting for a comment on how she had been treated and what she intended to do now. Within seconds the car was clear and speeding down the road towards the town, a smart Fiat Tempra close on its tail. The man in the rear passenger seat with Michelle had identified himself earlier as Walter Askew, a British Embassy official, and with his pompous manner and ill-disguised disapproval Michelle wasn’t in much doubt of his honesty.

  Just prior to her release Askew had informed her that a condition of them letting her go was that she leave Brazil by the end of the day, so a seat had been reserved for her on a flight to Miami at eight o’clock that night, where she would make the connection to London. Knowing that she was in no position to argue, she had accepted the condition, but now, as they travelled through the grimy, bustling streets of downtown Rio, she was bracing herself to ask for more time. If she didn’t get it, then she knew she would have to find a way to escape her protection, for she simply wasn’t leaving Rio without Robbie – or without knowing that Cavan was safe.

  ‘I’ve been in Rio for a long time, Mr Askew,’ she began, as they turned on to the main thoroughfare of Avenue Presidente Vargas and drove past the exquisite Candelaria Church, more famous now for the police massacre of eight street children than for society weddings.

  Askew turned his lofty glance upon her as though enquiring of what possible interest that could be to him.

  She looked at his lower lip which was puckered beneath his protruding teeth. His flaring nostrils reminded her of how she must smell. ‘What I’m saying,’ she continued, determined not to be put off by his hostility, ‘is that I don’t think I can be ready to leave in such a short time. There are things I have to do …’

  ‘Miss Rowe,’ he interrupted, ‘it was a condition of your …’

  ‘I know,’ she cut in, ‘and I went along with it because I knew they wouldn’t let me out if I didn’t. But, you see, there are things … There are people … at the shelter, I have to see. I’ve done a lot of work here. I can’t just walk out on them.’

  ‘You can write to them, Miss Rowe,’ he told her stiffly.

  Michelle looked at his implacable expression and knew that it was pointless to pursue this route. ‘Listen,’ she said, half turning in her seat to face him, ‘I can’t leave. Not yet. I mean, I will, but right now it’s not just out of the question, it’s impossible.’

  His gingery eyebrows rose. ‘And why would that be?’ he asked coldly.

  Michelle took a breath and crossing her fingers in the hope she was doing the right thing, said, ‘Because my son is still here and I can’t go without him.’

  Askew’s expression showed his surprise. ‘Your son?’ he repeated.

  Michelle nodded. ‘The children who were living with me,’ she explained, ‘one of them is my son. He’s four years old, so you see I can’t leave without him.’

  Askew’s nostrils grew wider. ‘I would hardly suggest you did, Miss Rowe,’ he responded. ‘But I don’t see how taking him with you is going to stop you getting on the plane this evening.’

  ‘Maybe it won’t,’ she said helpfully, ‘but if I don’t find him by then, you must understand I can�
�t leave without him.’

  ‘Find him?’ Askew declared. ‘What on earth do you mean by that?’

  ‘Well, as soon as I was arrested a friend of mine took him and the other children into hiding,’ she answered. ‘For safety, you understand. If I can make contact with my friend I can find my son and we can leave.’

  ‘Goodness me,’ Askew grunted, clearly extremely put out by this awkward development.

  Michelle was thinking fast, trying to work out where his thoughts might be leading him.

  ‘Well, I can see you can’t go without the boy,’ he said finally, ‘so I would suggest you try contacting your friend immediately.’

  Michelle looked at the carphone he was handing her and tried to swallow her dismay. ‘He won’t give me the information over the phone,’ she said. ‘It’s an agreement we have, just in case I am being forced to ask.’

  ‘Goodness me,’ Askew said again, obviously becoming more displeased by the minute.

  ‘I could ask him to come to my house,’ Michelle suggested. ‘He’d probably tell me there.’

  Askew pressed the phone into her hand. ‘Tell him to bring your son to the house and we’ll see you both on a flight this evening,’ he said.

  Michelle dialled quickly and within seconds had made the connection to Chambers’s cellphone. ‘Tom?’ she said, experiencing such a surge of relief at the sound of his voice that her eyes filled with tears. ‘It’s Michelle.

  ‘Christ, where are you?’ he demanded.

  ‘They let me go,’ she answered. ‘I’m on my way back to the house. Can you meet me there? Can you bring Robbie?’

  Chambers was silent.

  Michelle was silent too and glanced from the corner of her eye at Askew.

  ‘Who’s with you?’ Chambers asked.

  ‘Someone from the Embassy,’ she answered. ‘They’re saying I have to leave tonight and take Robbie with me.’

  ‘You can’t,’ Chambers told her.

  ‘Why?’ she demanded, unsure whether she should be unnerved by this response or not. ‘He’s all right, isn’t he? Tom, tell me he’s all right.’

  ‘He’s all right,’ Chambers assured her, ‘but I can’t bring him to the house. Not yet, it wouldn’t be safe.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Trust me, OK? There’s a lot going down over here right now and … hang on,’ he was gone for a moment, then, coming back on the line he said, ‘Michelle, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you at the house as soon as I can.’

  ‘Tom, wait!’ she cried. ‘Where’s Michael?’ But the line was already dead.

  She could feel Askew watching her as clicking off her end, she handed the phone back to him. ‘He’s going to call me at home,’ she told him quietly. Then, bringing her eyes up to his she said, ‘I won’t go without my son, Mr Askew, and there’s no guarantee I’ll get him back today.’

  ‘You’re putting me in a very difficult position, Miss Rowe,’ he said crossly.

  ‘I know and I’m sorry, but if I swear I won’t leave the house until I have my son and we are ready to go, can you find it in your heart to give me some leeway?’

  Askew stuck out his chin and fingered his collar. ‘I’m not the one who set the condition,’ he reminded her.

  ‘But if I don’t have my son, are you really going to make me go without him?’ she asked.

  Askew glanced at her quickly, then returned his eyes to the passing streets. When finally he answered they were slowing up to pass through the security gates of her domaine. ‘I want your word that you won’t leave the house,’ he demanded.

  ‘You have it,’ she assured him.

  He looked at her hard and she could see he didn’t trust her. Then, glancing over his shoulder to check that the car following them was through the gates too he said, ‘We have assigned someone to watch over you until it’s time for you to leave. We’ve done this for your own safety. I’ll instruct him to stay with you until midday tomorrow. By then you must be ready to go. Do you understand?’

  Michelle nodded eagerly, and resisting the urge to clasp his hands, she got swiftly out of the car before he had a chance to change his mind.

  As she unlocked the door to the courtyard the car began reversing. She turned to wave. Though he saw her, Askew didn’t wave back. She looked down the shady cobbled street towards the security guard’s booth and found the guard staring up at her. Then, glancing at the man in the Fiat Tempra she pushed the door open and disappeared inside the courtyard.

  Remembering to lock up behind her, she ran around the pool and slid open the french windows that led into the lounge. She could feel herself starting to shake and wanted desperately to cry as relief and fear engulfed her – and the need for someone to be there opened like a void around her.

  The place was so silent. She had expected it to be searched, but she hadn’t been prepared for so much damage, nor for the terrible panic that was suddenly starting to seize her. But both Michael and Tom had said Robbie was safe and in her heart she knew he was, for Tom would have seen to it and if any harm had come to him Michael would have known. Or had they just been trying to spare her, not wanting her to fret any more than she already was? A terrible surge of fear cleaved through her chest as she looked at the broken toys and tried not to imagine what would have happened if he and the other children had been here when Pastillano’s men came.

  Forcing herself to take deep, steadying breaths, she made her way down to the bedroom and stripped off the foul-smelling clothes she’d been wearing for the past five days. She showered for a long time, allowing the hot, steaming jets to pummel her body and push through the tangled knots of her hair. She was trying so hard not to break down, to keep at bay the encroaching panic as she tormented herself with what was going to happen now. She had hoped Michael would be there when they’d released her, but there had been no sign of him and Walter Askew hadn’t mentioned him. Maybe she should have asked, but she had no idea how Michael and Tom were playing things and she didn’t want to the run the risk of messing things up. But she could see no harm in trying to find out where Michael was; after all, he had visited her in prison so Pastillano must know about him now.

  By the time she stepped out of the shower the need to see him was coming over her in waves of such urgency and despair she could barely breathe. She had to find out what news there was of Cavan, but was almost too terrified to ask. It was all her fault, everything that was happening was totally down to her and if Cavan didn’t get through this then she knew she would never be able to live with the guilt.

  Snatching up fresh underwear from where it had been thrown on the floor, she quickly slipped it on and found a thin cotton dress to cover it. As she fastened the buttons her hands were shaking and the misgivings in her heart were growing all the time. She needed to speak to Michael. She had to know what was happening and whether there was anything she could do. She began searching around for the phone, throwing things aside and becoming increasingly more agitated, until finally she was on her knees hugging the torn photograph album she had used to tell Robbie stories about his daddy.

  ‘Oh God, Michael,’ she sobbed, as tears began streaming down her face. She’d always known how much she’d hurt him and now he was going to do the same to her. He was going to take Robbie away and give him the kind of life he should have, instead of the one she was forcing on him. ‘It’s over, you must know that,’ he’d said when he’d come to see her that morning and though she’d pretended not to understand, she’d known exactly what he meant, because she’d always known that one day it would happen. It was why she had done everything she could to prepare Robbie for the time his daddy would come and take him to a place where he would have cousins and go to school with other children. She’d done all she could to prepare herself too, but now the time was here she knew she didn’t have the strength to let go. He was so independent, so full of life and laughter and mischief, but he was just four and too small to go away with a stranger, even if the stranger was his daddy. Yet he talked about i
t all the time, was so excited for the day to come, so eager to see his real daddy instead of the photographs Mummy showed him. Never, she thought, had a child so longed to know his father as her son longed to know his, so how could she prevent it now, after all she had done to prepare for it?

  She smiled, then, and sobbed again as she recalled the day he’d met Cavan and had thought he was his daddy. Cavan had never had such a greeting from a child and Robbie was so good-natured he had soon forgiven Cavan for being just an uncle. It was only later, when he was alone with Michelle, that he had let his disappointment show and it had been so hard to bear she had almost asked Cavan to take him with him to England when he’d returned for his birthday. But at the last she’d been unable to do it.

  And now, here she was, not knowing where either of them was and so afraid she might not see them again that she could barely make herself think. Somewhere deep down inside she knew she wasn’t being rational, that Michael was out there trying to find Cavan and Tom had made sure Robbie was safe, but guilt for all she had done was smothering her reason. She kept thinking about Cavan and imagining what they might be doing to him now. He was so young and undeserving of what she had brought upon him. But it wasn’t only the kidnap, was it? It was the deception and the lies, the never knowing if it was him she loved, or if really it was Michael. They looked so painfully alike, smiled the same way, got angry the same way and almost loved the same way. He was Michael’s flesh and blood, Michael’s image, the brother Michael loved beyond life. So she had loved him too and through him had continued to love Michael, never really knowing where one ended and the other began.

  But she knew now. After seeing Michael that morning there was no longer any doubt, all there was was a terrible fear that it might already be too late.

  The car had come to a halt a few minutes ago, by which time Michael calculated they had been travelling for roughly an hour. He was pretty certain they had risen to some altitude, and from the frequent splashes of sunlight and shade and absence of traffic noise, he guessed they had come up through the vast, rambling forest that climbed the hills behind Rio. Where they were now wasn’t easy to gauge, though he was sure he had heard the motorized lifting of some kind of door, and after the car had turned around on what sounded like gravel it had reversed several feet back until there was virtually no light seeping through his blindfold at all.