Page 38 of The Impossible Fortune
‘Surely, if Nick’s code was secret,’ says Elizabeth, ‘it wouldn’t make sense for Davey Noakes to plant the bomb. Or for Lord Townes to plant the bomb.’
Joyce nods. ‘Holly Lewis planted the bomb.’
Ron isn’t buying it. ‘I bet it was the sol–’
They feel the explosion before they hear the noise. A rush of wind that knocks them from their seats. And then the noises, a huge thunderclap, followed by rolling booms. The night sky outside is lit by intense orange flames. Elizabeth is first to her feet, and moves as fast as she can to the door and into the heat now filling the evening air. Residents are peering out of windows, and they are all peering at the same thing. The remains of a car, blown apart in the overspill visitors’ car park. And Elizabeth knows just which visitor it will be. Joyce and Ibrahim are close behind her, Ron lagging a little. The heat becomes unbearable as she reaches the remains of what was Holly’s Volkswagen Beetle.
The pain as Elizabeth moves ever closer is becoming unbearable, but Elizabeth feels pain differently now. Unbearable is the norm.
‘Get back!’ shouts Ibrahim. ‘She’s dead!’
I know she’s dead, thinks Elizabeth. I can see she’s dead. It would have been instant – that’s something at least.
‘You can’t save her, Elizabeth,’ shouts Joyce.
I’m not trying to save her. I’m trying to solve a murder.
And then she spots it, already starting to melt into the frame of the car.
Holly’s mobile phone. Wrapping her scarf around it, she throws the scalding hot phone clear. The phone is destroyed, but, if she got there in time, the SIM card will have survived. There’s always something useful.
So they were trying to kill Holly Lewis too?
Elizabeth knows what Nick has told her and she knows what Holly has told her. Perhaps the phone will tell a different story? She needs information. About The Compound. About Davey Noakes. About Lord Townes.
Somebody is willing to kill for all that money. But who?
20
Paul Brett emerges from under the water, and Joanna smiles at her handsome husband.
Joanna and Paul are drinking the promised Champagne in the promised hot tub, on the terrace of an ‘Executive Lodge’ nestled in the woodland grounds of a grand country-house hotel. Those grounds are so big that, while the hot tub is in north Dorset, the breakfast buffet is in south Somerset.
‘Are you worried though?’ Joanna asks. ‘About Nick?’
‘I don’t know,’ says Paul. ‘Not really my world, all that.’
Joyce had rung Joanna an hour or so ago and, after a lengthy diversion into porcelain cats, had told her about the bomb under Nick’s car.
‘He’ll text me any minute,’ says Paul. ‘It’ll be a training exercise or something. Testing for weaknesses in their system.’
‘In The Compound?’ Joanna asks. ‘I’m not really sure I know what it is?’
‘Cold storage,’ says Paul. ‘Instead of storing secrets on computers, where hackers can get to them, you stick them in a safe room underground that’s impossible to rob. It’s very popular.’
‘An underground bunker where you can bury your secrets?’ says Joanna. ‘Popular with criminals presumably?’
‘I suppose so,’ says Paul. ‘Or maybe hedge funds?’
Joanna sticks out her tongue.
‘Everyone’s got secrets, haven’t they?’ says Paul. ‘That’s how they’ve stayed in business all these years. They’re very thorough, Nick and Holly.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing from Holly this evening?’ asks Joanna. ‘Dinner with those four can be an ordeal.’
‘Holly can handle anything,’ says Paul.
‘Can she now?’ asks Joanna. ‘Why haven’t I met her? I’ve met most of your friends. And her being so wonderful and everything?’
