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Had it been Kelly or Zan?
Sweat broke out on his brow.
The temptation to order Matt to break the door down had been overwhelming.
‘Oh, hell.’ Kim raked fingers through her blonde hair, visibly panicking. ‘I shouldn’t have let Zan go on her own, but the problem is that the husband won’t let anyone else near her.’
‘I’m going to see if I can help her.’
Kim shook her head. ‘They won’t let you in.’
‘They might.’ They’d let him in before. Just. ‘The registrar can cover the rest of the clinic. If he has a problem he can call me.’
Kim nodded and looked at him helplessly. ‘What can I do to help?’
‘Nothing for now.’ Carlo dr
agged on his coat and picked up his bag. Then he paused. ‘On second thoughts, maybe you can. Do you have a portable oxygen cylinder?’
‘I’ll fetch it.’ Obviously thinking along the same lines, they hurried to the equipment room.
Carlo stuffed a bag full of equipment while Kim helped.
‘I really, really hope you don’t need any of this,’ she said fervently, and he nodded agreement.
‘Let’s hope not. But if that baby is arriving six weeks prematurely, in a freezing flat, we could have a problem on our hands.’
It was an understatement, and they both knew it.
Kim walked with him to the door. ‘I’ll alert Social Services and the ambulance service. If necessary, we can put an incubator in the ambulance.’
‘Good. I’ll call you.’ Carlo strode out of the door and made for the car park.
* * *
Slumped in a car at the far end of the car park, two men watched as Carlo walked towards his car. The bigger of the two men sat up slightly, suddenly alert, checking a photograph that lay in his lap.
‘That’s him.’
His partner nodded agreement and both of them watched while Carlo slid into the driver’s seat and drove away.
‘So we’ve finally tracked him down. Now what?’
‘Nothing yet.’ The man gave an unpleasant smile. ‘We wait. But Carlo Santini is about to have a memorable Christmas.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ZAN finished examining Kelly for the second time and tried to stay calm.
It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.
The flat was freezing and she was delivering a premature baby at home.
This was a midwife’s equivalent of a bad hair day.
‘Kelly, you have to let me call an ambulance,’ she said quietly as she listened to the foetal heart again. So far it had been steady and strong, but it was starting to dip with contractions and Zan was feeling vulnerable and exposed with so little equipment and no medical back-up.
Mike stepped forward, his eyes cold. ‘She has the baby here.’
