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PRESENT
I pace the room, counting, doubling. I need to know how much Jethro Hawthorpe will have to pay the kidnappers if he pays the ransom tomorrow, day twenty-four of our kidnap.
The first days are easy: one—two—four—eight—sixteen—thirty-two—sixty-four—one hundred and twenty-eight—two hundred and fifty-six—five hundred and twelve—one thousand and twenty-four—two thousand and forty-eight—four thousand and ninety-six—eight thousand, one hundred and ninety-two—sixteen thousand, three hundred and eighty-four—thirty-two thousand, seven hundred and sixty-eight.
I’ve been counting the days off on my fingers, and already at day sixteen, over halfway through the month, I’m not sure I’ll get to a million pounds by day thirty-one. But I owe it to my father to work it out.
I carry on. Sixty-five thousand, five hundred and thirty-six on day seventeen; one hundred and thirty-one thousand and seventy-two on day eighteen; two hundred and sixty-two thousand—without warning, the rest of the total slips from my grasp. Without a pen and paper, it’s going to be difficult to hang on to the figures.
I might not have a pen, but I have a nail. In the bathroom, I start doubling again from the beginning. When I get to day eighteen, I hang on to the number—one hundred and thirty-one thousand and seventy-two—while I scratch19on the back of the door. Then, in my mind, I double the number I’ve been holding on to and scratch the number262,144next to the19.
I carry on; underneath the19,I scratch a20,then next to it, the number524,288.I’m about to double it when I realize that I’ve already reached the half-million mark.
I sit down on the toilet seat, frowning at the door. I must have made a mistake, it’s not possible that by the next day, day twenty-one, the total will already be more than a million. I go back over everything, from day one, and arrive at the same figure. A thrill of excitement takes hold. I carry on calculating.
21—1,048,576
22—2,097,152
23—4,194,304
24—8,388,608
I stand back, staring in disbelief at the number I’ve just scratched on the back of the door. If Jethro Hawthorpe pays the ransom tomorrow, on day twenty-four of our kidnapping, he will have to pay our abductors over eight million pounds.
My fingers are sore from the effort of scratching legible numbers with a nail, but I push on. Twice the light goes off, twice I reset it.
25—16,777,216
26—33,554,432
27—67,108,864
28—134,217,728
29—268,435,456
30—536,870,912
My body trembles as I make the last calculation.
31—1,073,741,824
My breath catches. Day thirty-one: over one billion pounds.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
PAST
I was in the sitting room, reading a book, when I heard Ned’s car in the driveway. Jumping from the sofa, I ran to the window and saw him sitting up front next to Hunter.
It was the first time Ned had left the house since we’d come back from Vegas. Seizing my chance, I ran out to the garden, then around the side of the house, my bare feet stinging as I reached the driveway. But the gate had already closed. I hurried to it, trying to find a way to climb up the smooth steel. But it was impossible to get traction.
“Carolyn!” I shouted.
There was no reply. Even the press seemed to have gone, despite Ned’s insistence that they were camped outside. Another of his lies.
I tried again. “Help! Can somebody help?”
