II

Rebecca double-checked Mustafa Habib’s card to make sure she had the right address. She’d thought him a run-of-the-mill businessman, but he lived in a vast beach-front estate, its perimeter wall topped with broken glass, video-cameras whirring and humming either side of high steel gates. A young man in khaki uniform emerged from a breezeblock guardhouse, lighting one cigarette from its predecessor, then squashing the discarded butt into the dust. ‘Yes?’ he asked.

‘I’m Rebecca Kirkpatrick,’ she told him. ‘I’m here to see Mustafa Habib.’

‘Is he expecting you?’

She showed him Mustafa’s card. ‘He’ll know what it’s about.’

He slouched off into the guardhouse. The gates slid silently open a minute later and he waved her through. She drove past outbuildings down a winding crushed-shell drive to a white hacienda lit up by spotlights and topped by satellites, aerials and masts. Two more uniformed men stood to attention either side of the high double front doors, AK47s leaning against the walls behind them. She parked by a marble fountain and got painfully out.

The two guards opened the doors and Mustafa emerged, a phone to his ear, a young woman in gorgeous silks a couple of paces behind. He beamed in pleasure at Rebecca as he bounded down the marble steps, but then winced sympathetically at her injuries, though he was too polite to remark directly upon them. ‘You’ll have to forgive me,’ he said, a hand over his phone’s mouthpiece. ‘I have to finish this call. Five minutes at the most.’

‘No problem.’

‘This is my daughter Ahdaf,’ he said. ‘A zoologist like yourself. Or studying to be one, at least.’ He gestured vaguely at the satellite dishes on his roof as he made his way back up the steps. ‘She watches all your programmes.’

‘Is that right?’ asked Rebecca.

Ahdaf’s eyelashes flickered. ‘I watch your programmes, yes.’

Rebecca caught her tone at once. ‘You don’t like them,’ she said.

Ahdaf glanced at her father, waited until he was safely out of earshot. ‘You make humans out to be so special,’ she said. ‘We’re just one species among tens of millions.’

‘A species that happens to make up my whole audience.’

‘Science shouldn’t be about ratings,’ said Ahdaf. ‘If I were doing the programme, man would be treated just like any other animal.’

I’ll bet they would, thought Rebecca. But she said nothing; she couldn’t risk Mustafa’s goodwill. She reached into her bag for her mobile. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked, gesturing at the masts. ‘Only I’ve been out of signal range for two days now.’ She didn’t wait for an answer, just wandered a little distance off, listened to her messages. She had three from Titch alone, telling her that everyone at work was thinking of her and praying that things were going as well as could be hoped, asking her to call if there was anything he could do. She’d hardly thought of him or the office since leaving London, but his messages did wonders for her spirits, and she found herself dialling his mobile. He picked up almost at once, and his obvious gladness to hear her voice lifted her spirits immensely. She began to talk and then it all came pouring out in an incoherent jumble: her visit to her mother’s tomb, her ordeal on the reef and how Daniel had saved her, even the ransom demand. She was still babbling away when a man cleared his throat behind her and she whipped around to see Mustafa standing there with an embarrassed expression. ‘Got to go,’ she told Titch. ‘I’ll call soon.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Mustafa, holding a hand up in apology. ‘I didn’t mean to overhear.’

‘But you did?’

‘You cannot know how glad this news makes me. If it’s true.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘They sent me a photograph. Photographs are easy enough to fake.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘But you intend to prepare as if it is for real?’

‘I have to.’

‘And you’re here for my help?’

Rebecca said defensively: ‘You said if you could do anything … And it’s not as if I can’t raise the money myself. Just not by nine a.m. on Monday.’

Mustafa frowned. ‘This Monday? But that’s crazy!’

‘Exactly. They’re not giving me a chance.’

‘Where?’

‘Independence Square, Tulear.’

‘How much?’

‘Five hundred million ariary.’

He grimaced, but in a way that suggested it could have been worse. ‘Who knows about this?’

‘Only my business partner. That was him just now. I had to tell someone.’

‘Of course. But not the police?’

‘No.’

Mustafa nodded seriously. ‘You must please keep it that way. Understand, what our police know, everyone knows. You can see for yourself that I already take absurd precautions to keep my family safe. If people think that I pay ransoms—’

‘I won’t tell anyone, I swear. But is it possible? To raise the money? I’ll pay you interest.’

‘Interest!’ sighed Mustafa. ‘How can you talk about interest? Your father is my friend; my interest is getting him and your sister safely home. Listen: I do not keep such sums sitting in my safe. I will have to borrow it myself. The people from whom I borrow will doubtless charge me interest and impose various conditions. What they ask of me, I will ask of you. But no more.’

Rebecca’s eyes watered. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘It will not be easy,’ cautioned Mustafa. ‘Even for me, this is a large sum to raise so quickly. But one way or another we will do this. You have my word.’ He smiled, gestured flamboyantly. ‘Ask anyone: when Mustafa Habib gives his word, he keeps it. But you must promise me one thing in return …’

‘Yes?’

‘You are hurt, you are exhausted. You must be fresh for this battle. So you will go home and rest and get your strength up. And on Monday morning you will be back here at eight o’clock, and I will have your money for you. You have my word on this. And, God willing, together we will bring back Adam and Emilia.’