Ben Hope

‘How much bigger?’

‘A lot. Really big. Probably a foot taller than you. More, even.’

‘Come on. Seriously?’ Ben was a shade under six feet, not the tallest man in the world by any means, but there weren’t many men who towered over him by that kind of margin.

‘Seriously. And built super-wide, too. A real hulk. Probably pumped full of steroids.’

Ben made a mental note of that, too. A guy that large would be easy to spot. Maybe not so easy to neutralise, if it came to it. But he could worry about that if and when the situation arose. He said, ‘Okay. Go on.’

‘They were on us in seconds. Of course, I had no idea what was happening. I thought they were coming for both of us. Muggers, or a rape gang. Forty percent of all the rapes in India happen in Delhi. They beat up the men, hold them down at knifepoint and make them watch as they line up to go to work on the women.’ Brooke shuddered. ‘But then they made straight for Amal, and I realised that wasn’t what they wanted. He was just standing there, like paralysed. I suppose I was too. Two of them grabbed his arms and started dragging him towards the van. He turned to look at me. He was so terrified. He yelled at me to run, get away.’

Ben knew that Brooke wouldn’t have run, in that situation. She was one of the toughest, bravest women he’d ever met. In unarmed combat training sessions at Le Val she’d been able to hold her own against much stronger and heavier male sparring partners.

She went on, ‘Amal’s a gentle soul. He’s never so much as thrown a punch in his life. But I wasn’t about to stand there and let him be snatched off the street like that. I rushed in and collared one of the bastards.’

‘The stumpy, hairy one or the massive one?’

‘Neither,’ she said. ‘This one was about medium height, medium build. I punched him in the mouth, and when he went down I yanked his mask off.’

‘You saw his face?’

‘I can still see it now,’ she replied. ‘He’s an Indian, as you might expect given that we’re in India. Swarthy complexion, dark hair, mid-thirties. He was sat there dumped on the ground looking up at me with these big bulging eyes full of hate. He has a missing front tooth.’

Ben made another mental note. Bulging eyes, missing tooth. ‘Was it already missing, or did you knock it out when you hit him?’

‘It was lying on the pavement. I didn’t notice it until afterwards. And his mouth was bleeding. So I’d say it was me.’

Ben had to smile in satisfaction at the visual image. He added bruised lip to his mental note. That was, assuming he caught up with the kidnappers before the bruising had time to go down. Which he had every intention of doing.

‘I picked up the tooth and gave it to the police,’ Brooke said. ‘They’ve still got it, far as I know. I was hoping it’d help to find the guy. Can they DNA teeth?’

Ben nodded. ‘Tooth enamel’s one of the best sources for DNA samples. But the police in India are known for being way behind on the technology. They don’t have any kind of database to match samples with. So I’d be surprised if they turn up anything there, but it was good thinking on your part.’

She gave a sour grunt. ‘Fabulous.’

‘What happened next?’

Brooke continued the account, glancing here and there as though she was reliving the action all over again. ‘Meanwhile the rest of them were dragging Amal closer to the van, right there. He was struggling, but couldn’t do a thing. I was screaming at the top of my voice. I could see a few people hanging around, but nobody came to help. I went to grab another of the bastards and pull him off Amal. Then the big hulk I told you about, he lunged towards me and caught me by the arm. Very, very quick for a guy his size. His hand was like a pincer. I tried to put him in a wrist lock, the way you showed me once. Nambudo?’

‘Aikido.’

‘But he was too strong. He held onto me like he was going to stuff me into the van, too. For a second I was certain they were going to take both of us.’

‘You got away?’

‘No, they let me go. One seemed to be the gang leader. He yelled in Hindi at the big one, “No! Not the woman, only the man!”’

Ben said, ‘That suggests it was definitely a targeted attack. They weren’t interested in you, only in Amal.’

‘Seems that way to me, too.’

‘What did the leader look like?’

‘About your height, about your build. Fairly muscular, but lean with it.’

As relieved as he was by the fact, Ben found it strange that they hadn’t taken her too. What kidnapper wouldn’t benefit from capturing two hostages for the price of one? But then, this whole case was strange. The lack of a ransom demand was the most disconcerting thing of all.

Brooke went on, ‘So the big bastard let go of my arm and shoved me away so hard I fell over. Everything spilled out of my handbag. He must have thought I was going to snatch up my phone and snap a picture of him and his buddies, because he stamped on it and smashed it to pieces. Meanwhile, the one I’d knocked down was getting to his feet, and they had Amal in the back of the van. I started running over to try to do more to help him, but then two of them pulled out pistols and pointed them in my face. They looked as if they meant it. I was afraid they were going to shoot me. What else could I do? I backed off.’

‘You did the right thing, Brooke. There was nothing more you could have done.’

‘You’d have done more.’

‘Don’t be so sure about that.’

‘I know you would, Ben. You’d have taken those weapons off them and rammed them down their throats, sideways. You wouldn’t have let them take him.’

‘Sometimes you have to let it go. Happens to the best.’

‘I failed.’

‘You need to get that out of your head,’ he said. ‘Because you’re right, they probably would have shot you. And then you’d be dead. And if you were dead, there’d have been nobody to call in my help. And Amal would have been on his own. No winners in that situation.’

She smiled weakly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Plus, it would upset me just a little if you were dead.’

‘Thanks. Still, whatever happens, I won’t make that mistake ever again.’ She reached across her side for the little embroidered handbag and unzipped it. She dipped her hand inside and came out with something that made Ben’s eyebrows rise. Now he knew why the bag had looked heavy on its strap.

‘Where the hell did you get that?’

The pistol was a Browning Hi-Power, almost identical to the one Ben kept at the armoury at Le Val. One of his all-time favourite personal defence weapons, for its ruggedness, balance and deadly effectiveness. Nine-millimetre Parabellum. Thirteen-round magazine capacity, plus one in the chamber. All steel, the way guns used to be.

‘It’s Kabir’s,’ she said. ‘He keeps it in a bedside drawer at the house, for personal protection. Showed it to me once, much to Amal’s disapproval. He hates guns.’

‘That figures.’ Ben didn’t hate them, even though he knew too well what they could do. Nor did he love them, and he mistrusted people who did. In his way of thinking, they were simply tools. Ones to be treated with great caution and respect. Sadly, they often weren’t.

‘After the kidnapping, I sneaked in there and borrowed it. I should have done it sooner. If only I’d had it with me that night, things might have gone differently. But carrying it makes me feel more comfortable.’

Ben took it from her hand and examined it. It was old and scuffed, but well maintained and smelling of fresh oil. The magazine was fully loaded up. Nine-millimetre full metal jackets, the cartridge rims marked with the head stamp of the Indian government’s Ordnance Factories Board. Military ammo. Not available to civilians. Ben wondered where Kabir had managed to procure this kind of hardware from.

He said, ‘Might have gone differently for Kabir, too, if he’d taken it on his trip.’

He went to hand the pistol back to Brooke, but she waved it away. ‘You hold onto it. You can handle it better than I can.’

‘I’m hoping I won’t need it.’

‘What’s that saying you told me once? Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. It’s a truth I never fully appreciated until now.’