The Armada Legacy. Scott Mariani

them beside the car. ‘I’m grateful to you for letting me know about this, Kay,’ Ben said sincerely. His anger with her hadn’t lasted more than a minute or two.

      ‘I’m sorry it wasn’t better news,’ she said. ‘And I’m afraid there’s something else you should know. The Inspector’s on the phone to Scotland Yard right now. He’s requesting for a search warrant to be issued for your friend Dr Marcel’s home in Richmond.’

      ‘What? Why!?’ Amal exploded.

      Lynch gave a shrug. ‘Because he thinks that in the light of this turn of events, her disappearance looks suspicious. He’s dispatched a patrol car to Sea View Guest House to collect the rest of her belongings for examination. He says we can’t afford to assume she isn’t implicated somehow.’

      ‘Implicated?’ Amal yelled.

      ‘Don’t tell me you agree with Hanratty about this,’ Ben said to Lynch.

      ‘He’s my superior. I don’t have an opinion. Not one that matters, at any rate. And I’ve already told you far more than I should. I’m sticking my neck right out here.’

      ‘It’s insane!’ Amal shouted. ‘It’s absolute cretinous imbecility of the highest order! What kind of utter moron would—?’

      Lynch glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’d keep my voice down, if I were you. Here he comes.’

      Hanratty marched down the muddy slope towards them. ‘Well, well. Having a party, are we? Fancy you two just happening to turn up again.’ He glowered at Lynch, then turned to face Amal and stabbed a stubby finger into his chest. ‘You,’ he said, blowing spittle, veins standing out on his forehead, ‘had better not be thinking of going back to your own country, wherever that is. The situation has changed now, and you’re mixed up in it, pal.’

      ‘I happen to be a British citizen, pal. England is my country,’ Amal shot back in fury. ‘And I suppose you think I’m a suspect too? It’s outrageous. Brooke and I were here for a bloody party, that’s the beginning and end of it. We went through all this yesterday, over and over. Instead of standing here wasting time with these ridiculous allegations, why don’t you go and do your job, you colossal great prick?’

      ‘Amal,’ Ben said, putting a hand on his arm to quiet him. The cop’s eyes were beginning to burn with a dangerous light, and he was quite capable of having Amal dragged away to a cosy little cell if he carried on like this. ‘My friend’s upset,’ Ben said to Hanratty. ‘We’ll be getting out of your way now.’

      ‘Delighted to hear it,’ Hanratty snorted. He was about to say more when his phone rang and he wheeled back towards the bothy to take the call.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Lynch said, seeing the look in Ben’s eyes. ‘It’s not me.’

      ‘I know,’ Ben said.

      ‘The moment I hear anything more, I’ll call you, okay? But you have to promise me to stay out of this and leave the investigating to us.’

      ‘I promise,’ Ben said. Lynch nodded, then turned to follow Hanratty back up the slope.

      ‘It’s just unbelievable,’ Amal was raging as they got back into the car. ‘Brooke a suspect? Based on what?’

      ‘It’s time for you to go home,’ Ben said.

      Amal looked at him with hurt and confusion in his eyes. ‘So that’s it? No protest, no nothing? How can you just accept this shit from Hanratty, after all the things you said before? I thought you were going to do something. That’s why I thought you could help, because you had expertise in this kind of thing.’

      ‘There’s nothing more we can do here,’ Ben told him. ‘It’s over.’

      Amal boggled at him. ‘It’s over? Are you serious?’

      ‘We’ll go back and get your stuff,’ Ben said. ‘Then I’ll take you to the airport.’

      Amal stared. His throat gave a quiver. ‘You think she’s dead, don’t you? That’s why you’re giving up.’

      Ben didn’t reply. He started the engine and put the car in reverse.

      ‘Why can’t you just be straight with me and say so? That’s right, just go silent on me again. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand any of it.’ Amal slumped despairingly in his seat as Ben backed the car away from the police vehicles and turned it round in the narrow road.

      Arriving back at the guesthouse, they found a Garda patrol car parked outside and two officers loading the rest of Brooke’s things into the back of it, sealed up in plastic evidence bags. Mrs Sheenan was watching from the doorway in her curlers, dressing gown and slippers, extremely displeased to have been roused so early from her bed and even more mortified that her establishment had been ransacked by the Garda like it was a den for common criminals. It would be the talk of the village for evermore. Amal tried in vain to mollify her and explain what was happening, then gave it up to go to his room and start packing to leave.

      Ben watched the police car disappear down the street before returning inside to check flight times and book Amal a seat on the first plane to London that morning. Minutes later, they were back in the BMW and setting off.

      Amal looked deep in thought all the way to Derry Airport, privately chewing over something with a set expression on his face. As they were about to part, he turned to Ben. ‘Listen, I, ah, I don’t generally go around telling people this, but I do actually have some family connections. Fairly powerful ones, in fact. And I have my own money, a lot of money. I believe that Brooke is alive. I’d do anything – I mean anything – to find her. Whatever it takes. You understand me?’

      ‘I understand you,’ Ben said. He thanked him. Left him standing clutching his bags and headed back towards the car.

      The truth was, he’d only wanted Amal out of the way. He knew what he had to do next, and that it was something he needed to do alone.

      Because as he’d been standing there on the dark, rainswept roadside in the middle of the Poisoned Glen listening to Amal ranting at Lynch and Hanratty, Ben had suddenly remembered.

       Chapter Fourteen

      With the realisation of what had happened to Forsyte, the situation was suddenly totally altered. Things were about to turn an awful lot uglier than they already were.

      Ben also knew now that there was no point in crossing back into the Republic. He was already on the side of the border he needed to be. Sitting behind the wheel of the BMW at Derry Airport, he took out his phone and dialled a number in Italy. After a few rings he heard a familiar, warm voice that would normally have made him smile. ‘Pronto?’ she said.

      ‘Hello, Mirella.’

      ‘Ben!’ She was delighted to hear from him. ‘Are you coming to see us again?’

      ‘Not exactly.’

      ‘What is wrong?’ she asked, hearing the tone of his voice.

      ‘I need to talk to Boonzie, Mirella. Is he there?’

      ‘I will call him,’ she said anxiously. A muffled clattering on the line as Mirella laid down the phone and went off to fetch her husband. Ben could hear her voice in the background shouting ‘Archibald!’. Boonzie would never have tolerated anyone but his beloved wife calling him by his real name. After a few moments, his gruff Scots voice came on the line.

      ‘I don’t suppose you’ve been following the British news,’ Ben said.

      ‘What’s going on?’ Ben could see the grizzled, granite-faced Scot standing there, his eyes narrowing in concern.

      ‘I have a problem, Boonzie.’

      Boonzie