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‘You’ll be safe here, but keep the security chain on the door and check visitors through the peephole before you let them in. There’s also a closed circuit TV system recording everyone who comes in and goes out of the hotel, day and night.’ He grinned at her. ‘Hurry up and unpack, then I’ll take you to lunch downstairs.’
They ate Italian, she chose minestrone soup, he ate Parma ham and sliced melon, then they both had grilled salmon with lime sauce, boiled potatoes and green beans, followed by icecream with hot chocolate sauce.
‘After hospital food that was brilliant,’ Miranda sighed. ‘Now I feel too full to move, though.’
Neil escorted her back up to her room and left her there. ‘Have a siesta, Italian-style,’ he advised, smiling.
As he turned to leave she caught his sleeve. ‘Before you go – any news about the body?’
He shook his head. ‘But if our theories are correct we should have news before too long.’
‘What theories?’ she asked and he grimaced.
‘I can’t tell you that. Sorry.’
He left and she locked herself in her hotel room, and went to the window to stare out. It was pouring with rain outside, the green branches of trees lining the street whipped by a savage wind, the view one of endless grey streets. London in this weather could be depressing.
She turned towards the bed, kicking off her shoes. Turning back the duvet she lay down, pulling the duvet over her. Minutes later she was asleep, and did not wake for several hours. Her body wasn’t accustomed to exercise following her long stay in hospital. She had had a very busy, tiring morning and then eaten rich, heavy food. She needed this long rest.
Two days later she drove to Heathrow with the Leighs and caught a plane to Athens. As they drove she noticed a black Ford with smoked glass windows following them; it stayed there, right behind them, all the way to the airport.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Pandora, noticing that she kept turning her head to look back.
Miranda didn’t admit what was worrying her. A lot of this traffic would be going to Heathrow. She was becoming paranoid.
Nevertheless, as they got out of the taxi she looked around for the black car and spotted it parking not far behind them. Nobody got out, but she felt the hair rise on the back of her head as she saw a front window slide down a little, wide enough for something to show.
Sunlight glinted on what looked like the muzzle of a gun.
Chapter Six
A scream curdled in her throat, her eyes clouded with terror, and then her sight cleared and she saw that it was not a gun being pointed at her. It was the long lens of a very professional-looking camera.
Charles and Pandora were unaware of her reactions, too busy supervising the unloading of their luggage on to an airport porter’s trolley. They had their backs to the other car, she realised they were unaware of being photographed.
‘Ready, Miranda?’ Charles said, turning his wife’s wheelchair towards the entrance. ‘Sure you don’t want a wheelchair?’
‘I can manage,’ she said, and would have told them about the camera then, but Charles walked away, pushing his wife in front of him, and she had to follow them at her slow hobble, leaning on her stick or she would have lost sight of them. By the time she had caught up with them at the check-in desk she had decided not to mention the photographer. His camera had been pointing towards them, but perhaps he had been taking a picture of someone else, someone she had not noticed.
By the time they had checked in and gone through into the departure lounge they still had over an hour to kill. They had some tea, bought magazines to read on the plane, then sat down to wait.
‘How far is the hotel from Athens?’ she asked them.
They looked at each other. Charles laughed. ‘Didn’t we explain? The hotel isn’t on the mainland, it is on an island called Delephores, in the Cyclades, several hours from Athens.’
She remembered then that Pandora had told her all that when she first offered her a job.
‘We get there by boat,’ Charles added.
‘A ferry?’
‘There is one, yes, but the hotel has its own boat, to make the trip easier for guests. It will be waiting for us at Piraeus, where all the cruise ships tie up. Our boat has a cabin with comfortable seats, and another tiny cabin with a couple of bunks, for people who get sea-sick and prefer to lie down. You don’t get sea-sick, do you, Miranda?’
‘I never have before, but then I haven’t sailed much.’
‘Well, let’s hope you are a good sailor.’
‘I don’t ever remember a problem.’
