Dead Line Read Online Free Page A

R insurance policy two months ago. He was concerned about a threat. Perhaps he mentioned it to you?’
    She shook her head, just barely, the kink in her side-swept hair bouncing a little. Her features looked slackened, smudged. She had a face out of time. Square jaw, high cheekbones, budded lips, like a Hollywood starlet from the 1940s.
    ‘Why are you here now?’ she whispered. ‘Tonight?’
    ‘Coincidence,’ Trent told her, gauging the doubt in Alain’s eyes. ‘I was due to arrange a follow-up meeting with your husband to go over some anti-kidnap measures he could put in place. I thought I’d assess his security first. It’s simple luck I was here tonight.’
    ‘Luck?’
    Trent nodded. ‘The first days of a kidnap situation set the tone for how the whole thing will play out. It’s fortunate that I can be involved here from the start. And I’ve seen the people you’re up against. They’re a professional outfit. That’s good. Much better than trying to reason with amateurs. More predictable.’
    Stephanie tipped her head to one side, intrigued now, a loose spring of hair falling across her face. She moved as if to approach. Alain motioned her back with his free hand, his arm stiff, palm raised, like a traffic cop.
    ‘We don’t know this is a kidnapping.’
    ‘ I know,’ Trent said.
    ‘Because you were involved?’
    ‘Because I recognise the signs. This was an aggressive takedown, no question. But those men weren’t looking to harm anyone else.’
    Trent glanced off to his side. Stephanie had ignored Alain’s instructions and was stumbling closer in her heels. She hugged herself with slender arms and Trent had to fight a sudden urge to go to her. There was something hard to fathom about her appeal. She was almost too perfect, brittle in some complex way, as if she might come apart and unravel at any moment.
    ‘They could have shot you both,’ Trent said, catching his breath. ‘But they didn’t. They need you alive so they have someone to negotiate with.’
    Stephanie absorbed his words, her swollen lips moving soundlessly. The summer wind ruffled her hair and pressed the material of her dress against her slim body. She was trembling.
    It was becoming difficult to understand how this woman had made him think of Aimée. If she were here, if she’d found herself in Stephanie’s predicament, she wouldn’t be standing by, shaking and waiting to hear more. She’d have clambered behind the wheel of the Mercedes, hauled it around and sped off in dogged pursuit of the Land Cruiser, no matter how doomed her chances of catching Jérôme’s abductors might be. Her impulsiveness and her hot-headed streak were qualities that had often frustrated Trent. Strange how much he missed them.
    ‘What’s your name?’ Stephanie asked.
    He told her, then added, ‘But most people call me Trent.’
    ‘You’re English?’
    ‘My mother was French.’
    ‘How would you help us?’
    He swallowed. No sense in rushing things now.
    ‘The policy your husband took out covers you for ransom payments up to a predetermined level. It also entitles you to my advice. Whether you choose to listen to it or not is up to you. I can tell you a lot more about myself and my record if you decide to appoint me. It’s how I usually begin work on a case.’
    Trent felt Alain’s gaze drilling into him but he kept his focus on Stephanie. She’d begun to collect herself and he saw now that she was tougher and more resilient than he’d imagined. Her cautious manner and her slight frame had deceived him and he supposed they shouldn’t have. Didn’t dancers put themselves through hell so they could appear composed up on stage when their bodies were screaming in pain? Viewed like that, their every performance was an illusion of sorts. Trent was beginning to gain some understanding of how it might feel.
    ‘Good,’ she said, and nodded, as if a decision had been made. ‘You’ll help us.’
    ‘But madame .’ Alain’s Ruger hadn’t