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even think about sex when
her daughter was in the position she was in. Yet
she couldn't help feeling much more secure with
Jimmy here with her. He was strong, stronger than
Pat could ever be, and she needed that now. But
he was also trouble, and there was no part for him
in her life now. Once this was over, she'd say
goodbye to him for ever.
    Although something told her it wasn't necessarily
going to be as easy as that.

Four
    'Half a million quid. It looks beautiful.'
    Jimmy Galante had always loved money. He
just hadn't liked the part where you had to work
for it, which was why he'd chosen armed robbery
and major drug dealing as his means of making a
living.
    The ransom was in a large Adidas holdall that
Andrea had dug out from the loft, which was now
sitting open on the coffee table in her living room.
Jimmy was sitting on one of the leather armchairs
with a large wad of fifties secured by a rubber
band in his hand. His dark eyes moved from the
wad to the contents of the holdall, then back
again. The expression on his face was pure,
unadulterated excitement.
    'It's not all there yet,' she told him. 'I'm still
sixty short. I need to pick up the rest at the bank
tomorrow.'
    'Where did all this lot come from, then?'
    'Never you mind.'
    He grinned. 'Been hiding it from the taxman,
have you?'
    'It's none of your business, Jimmy. The lucky
thing is I've got it. It means our daughter can
come home.'
    The grin disappeared, and he nodded soberly,
returning the wad of fifties to the holdall.
    Initially, Andrea had been reluctant to bring
Jimmy back here. She knew the kidnappers had
been watching her and was afraid they might
have bugged the house, so on Jimmy's advice
they'd driven to a shop in Kensington which sold
surveillance products and Andrea had bought a
bug finder for a hundred pounds.
    When they'd got back it was already dark, and
after checking there was no one watching from the
street, she and Jimmy had hurried inside, and
he'd gone to work with the bug finder. It had
taken him only seconds to locate a tiny electronic
trip switch attached to the bottom of the skirting
on the front door which would have alerted the
kidnappers remotely as soon as the front door was
opened, and was clearly how they'd known to
phone her as soon as she'd got home the previous
night.
    Inside the house, though, the bug finder hadn't
picked up anything, but this didn't stop Andrea
feeling that the place had been violated by the
kidnappers. It was now twenty-four hours since
she'd found out about Emma's disappearance.
    She watched Jimmy carefully as she sat
smoking what was probably her fortieth cigarette
of the day and drinking her third glass of red
wine, and wondered if she could trust him. She'd
hoped that telling him that Emma was his
daughter would stir his parental instinct, but now
she wasn't so sure it even existed. In the four
hours since she'd picked him up from the airport,
he'd hardly asked about Emma at all, seeming far
more concerned about filling his stomach. He'd
insisted on ordering an Indian takeaway, at the
same time bemoaning the quality of them in his
little corner of the Costa del Sol. Andrea had
hardly been able to touch hers, but Jimmy had
fallen upon his food ravenously. He'd eaten
enough for two men, and washed it all down with
four cans of Stella.
    When Andrea had shown him a picture of
Emma she'd brought with her to the airport, she'd
said quietly, and with a sense of awe in her voice,
'This is your daughter, Jimmy. This is Emma.' His
reaction had been a vague half-smile and a
murmured, 'She's pretty.' Nothing else. Just those
two words. She's pretty. For Andrea, this hadn't
been enough. She'd wanted more. In truth, Emma
didn't look much like Jimmy, but then again she
didn't look much like either of them. Andrea was
a natural brunette, with features that were sharp
and well defined – a very attractive woman, but
one with a hard edge to her. Emma, meanwhile,
was a natural blonde, with small, delicate
features, a round