Revenge (David Shelley #1) - James Patterson Page 0,65
emotions bobbling around them like escaped party balloons.
Drake nodded.
“There was a woman, remember?” pressed Shelley. “I broke her arm.”
“I’ve not lost my marbles. I remember, Shelley,” barked the older man defensively.
“Right, well. This is her. This is that woman.” He told Drake about her involvement with the Chechens, the union of the two families, adding, “Now, it’s possible . . . well, look, what I’m thinking is that she crossed paths with Emma somehow. Say the two of them recognized one another. Maybe that’s why Emma killed herself, out of fear. Or maybe she was compelled to do it somehow, I don’t know. I can’t speculate about that right now. Just that there’s this connection. Just as she—”
“She killed Emma?”
All eyes were on Drake. He was breathing heavily through his nose.
“That much is beyond doubt,” said Claridge. “Positive IDs from Lucy, and from the women at the spa. Unfortunately, we also have thirty Chechen women who will say that she was at a charity function the exact moment the kidnap was taking place, meaning that right now, we haven’t got a thing on her.”
Drake turned a scornful gaze on Claridge. “So you’re just sitting on your arse waiting for her to call the shots?”
Claridge met Drake’s fierce stare. Perhaps he was thinking that Drake only had himself to blame for his current predicament. But ever the diplomat, the good civil servant, he held his tongue on that score and said, “It’s the only avenue open to us, Mr. Drake.”
Shelley jumped in, thinking this would be a good time to speak to Drake alone. “Listen, let’s call a break, shall we? I want to have a word with Guy, if that’s all right with you.”
Judging by the relief written all over the faces of the men around the table, it was a popular decision.
CHAPTER 51
“GUY, YOU HAVE to calm down, mate. You’re losing control. And you’ve been drinking. Why the fuck did you think your wife being kidnapped was a good time to start knocking back the booze in the middle of the day?” He spoke loudly and in a way that he doubted Drake had been spoken to in a long, long time. If Shelley didn’t need him to stay calm and focused for Dmitry’s impending phone call, he would have been happy to keep him out of the game altogether—send him to bed with a big glass of Scotch and a couple of happy pills. Perfect. “I need you to stay strong,” he told Drake.
Drake spluttered, “What the fuck do you mean, you need me? Why are you even here? Your fucking wife didn’t help Susie—”
In the next second Shelley had Drake’s shirt bunched in his fist and was shoving him backward, the older man’s heels skidding on the kitchen floor before he thumped heavily into the refrigerator, the kind with huge double doors in brushed steel, one of which was now dented.
“Don’t you dare,” hissed Shelley, “don’t you fucking dare. Lucy—my fucking wife—almost died trying to keep Susie out of their hands. She winged one of them. Got descriptions of the rest. It’s because of her that we know exactly who we’re dealing with here. And you can count yourself lucky that I need you in one piece to keep Susie alive, or God help me I’d knock your block off right now.”
“The problem being that I wouldn’t let you do that, Shelley,” came a voice from behind.
It was Bennett, voice calm with the kind of authority you get when you’re holding a gun on someone.
Shelley relaxed his hands on Drake’s shirt. “Did you hear what he said?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference, my friend. I’m paid to provide security, and I’m pretty sure that not allowing my boss to get beaten up falls within my remit. Are you all right, sir?” he added, directing his question to Drake.
Drake pulled himself out of the dent in his fridge, shrugging off Shelley, who stepped away. “I’m all right.”
“Would you like me to ask Mr. Shelley to leave?”
“No, Mr. Shelley can stay for the time being,” said Drake, glaring at Shelley.
“Then perhaps we should all relax,” said Bennett.
Shelley turned as Bennett holstered his weapon. “The kidnapper’s been in touch,” he told Bennett, which was what he’d planned to tell Drake in the first place.
“What?” blasted Drake. “You never told me that—”
“You never gave me the chance,” Shelley clapped back. “But that’s why I need you calm. He’s ringing back with his demands later.”