‘She’ll come out of it,’ Hunter said. ‘She’s a strong woman.’

Kennedy had to admire the confidence in Hunter’s voice.

‘Once you get the new list, you know what to do, right, Adrian?’

‘Yes, of course.’

They disconnected.

Back inside Madeleine’s hospital room, it took Hunter just another twenty-four minutes to complete his new list. This time he had four entries. He texted the new list to Kennedy and received a reply back in five seconds: ‘Will initiate procedures as soon as I have all the entries. Locations crackdown will be in T–53 minutes. Will keep you posted.’

One Hundred and Nine

Hunter received the next text message from Kennedy in exactly fifty-three minutes.

‘Locations crackdown is a go. Will keep you posted. Second list now completed – every procedure initiated.’

There was nothing Hunter could do now but sit and wait. He massaged the back of his neck for an instant. Exhaustion had slowly worn its way into his brain, joints and muscles. Every time he moved, he could feel the tendons pulling tight across his whole body, as if they were about to snap. He closed his eyes only for a moment, and the next thing he felt was his cellphone vibrating in his chest pocket.

Hunter had dozed off for eighty-four minutes. To him, it felt like two seconds. He quickly left the room and answered Kennedy’s call.

‘We’ve drawn a blank, Robert,’ Kennedy said. ‘Lucien was in none of the locations.’ Kennedy’s voice sounded defeated, as if all hope had gone out of him. ‘And it doesn’t seem like he’d been in any of them for weeks. Judging by the photographs I’ve received back from the crackdown teams, some of those places were a torture haven, a slaughterhouse. You wouldn’t believe the torture paraphernalia found in them.’

Hunter was sure he would believe it.

‘It will take our forensics teams weeks, maybe months, to sift through everything in those fifteen locations, and it still might give us no clue to Lucien’s whereabouts. I’d say that those notebooks are our best bet of finding anything . . . if there is anything to be found. But they have to be read thoroughly and scrutinized to the minutest detail, and that will also take a long time.’ Without realizing, Kennedy let out a beaten sigh. He had no doubt that by the time they finished analyzing everything Lucien had left behind, the killer would be long gone, vanished forever. As Lucien had said, they’d never see him again.

One Hundred and Ten

Hunter came to a sudden stop as he returned to Madeleine’s bedroom. All the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Madeleine was still lying flat and still, but her eyes were open, or semi-open, her eyelids struggling with their own weight.

Hunter rushed to her bedside.

‘Madeleine?’

She blinked hazily.

Hunter gently touched her hand. ‘Madeleine, remember me?’

She blinked again and her eyes finally found his face. She didn’t say a word, but her lips stretched into a thin, but very truthful smile.

Hunter smiled back. ‘I knew you’d beat this,’ he whispered. ‘I’m going to go get a doctor. I’ll be right back.’

She gave his hand the faintest of squeezes.

Hunter rushed out of the room, and in less than a minute was back with a short and plump doctor who walked as if carrying his body weight was an everyday penance. As the doctor approached Madeleine’s bed, Hunter felt his cellphone vibrate in his chest pocket again. He excused himself and quickly left the room.

‘Robert,’ Kennedy said as Hunter answered it, ‘the second list, the idea you came up with?’

‘Yes, what about it?’

‘You’re not going to believe this.’

One Hundred and Eleven

Seven hours later.

John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York.

‘Would you like a drink while we wait for the rest of the passengers to board, Mr Tailor-Cotton?’ the young stewardess asked with a bright smile. Her blonde hair was pulled back and styled into a perfect bun, and her carefully applied makeup accentuated her facial features perfectly. ‘Perhaps champagne, or maybe a cocktail?’ she offered.

Champagne and cocktails were some of the many perks of flying first class.

The passenger’s eyes broke away from the window and found her pretty face. The nametag on her blouse read KATE. He smiled back.

‘Champagne would be perfect.’ His voice was soft, with a gentle Canadian accent. His dark green eyes had an intense, but knowledgeable look in them.

The smile never left the stewardess’s lips. She found Mr Tailor-Cotton mysteriously charming, and she liked that.

‘Great choice,’ she said in reply. ‘I’ll be right back with a glass.’

‘Excuse me, Kate?’ he called, as she was turning away. ‘How long before we take off?’

‘We have a full flight tonight,’ she replied. ‘And we just started boarding all the other classes. If no one is late, we should start taxiing toward the runway in no more than twenty to thirty minutes.’

‘Oh, that’s great. Thank you.’

‘But if there’s anything I can do to make this short wait more comfortable for you, just let me know.’ Her smile gained a flirtatious sparkle.

Mr Tailor-Cotton nodded, with a flirtatious smile of his own. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

His gaze followed her as she started down the aisle. When she disappeared past the dividing curtain, his attention returned to the window. He’d never been to Brazil before, but he’d heard great things about it, and he was really looking forward to spending time there. It would be a nice change.

‘I’ve heard that the beaches in Brazil are simply breathtaking,’ the passenger sitting directly behind Mr Tailor-Cotton said, leaning forward. ‘I’ve never been there before, but I’ve heard that they’re like paradise on earth.’

For a split second Mr Tailor-Cotton’s heart almost froze, then he smiled at his own reflection staring back at him from the airplane window. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

The passenger behind him stood up, moved forward, and casually leaned against the armrest of the single seat across the aisle from Mr Tailor-Cotton.

‘Hello, Robert,’ Mr Tailor-Cotton said, turning his head to look at Hunter.

‘Hello, Lucien,’ Hunter replied calmly.

‘You look awful,’ Lucien commented.

‘I know,’ Hunter admitted. ‘You, on the other hand, have done a great job on the look. Different hair color, contact lenses, the beard is gone, even the scar is gone. All that in the space of just a few hours.’

Lucien looked like he was accepting a compliment.

‘You can do wonders with makeup and a little prosthetics if you know what you’re doing.’

‘And you have mastered that Canadian accent to perfection,’ Hunter admitted. ‘Nova Scotia, right?’

Lucien smiled. ‘You still have a great ear, Robert. That’s right. Halifax. But I do have a collection of accents I’ve mastered. Would you like to hear some of them?’

That last sentence was delivered with a perfect Midwestern accent – Minnesota to be precise.

‘Not just right now,’ Hunter replied.

Lucien looked at his nails, unconcerned. ‘How’s Madeleine?’

‘She’s alive. She’ll make a full recovery.’

Lucien looked back at Hunter. ‘You mean physically, right? Because mentally, she’s probably fucked-up for life.’

Hunter’s stare became even harder. He knew Lucien was right again. The trauma Madeleine had experienced would stay with her for the rest of her life. The true extent of its consequences wouldn’t be known for many years. Neither would the lasting psychological effects.