The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller Peter May (intellectual books to read .txt) 📖

moment, toying idly with his key ring, not wanting to admit to himself what deep down he already knew. That somehow he had passed on the responsibility. If Lisa wanted to go running off to the other side of the world on a wild goose chase, then he could hardly be held to blame if she got herself into trouble. He’d put responsibility firmly back in the hands of the man responsible for her going off in the first place. There was nothing else he could do. He checked the time and realized he would be late for his shift.

From the darkness of his front room Blair watched David’s car drive away, then he drifted through again to the back of the house. Automatically, almost without thinking, he sank back in his armchair and relit his pipe. He pulled on it several times, letting smoke drift lazily from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth. For a long time he sat wrapped in a black cloak of winter depression. He felt the burden of guilt weigh heavily upon him. He should have tried to talk Elliot out of going in the first place. He should never have told Lisa where her father had gone.

Quite suddenly he laid down his pipe and rose to cross to his bureau and search among an untidy pile of paperwork for a number scribbled on an otherwise blank sheet of paper. He sat down, pulled on a pair of wire spectacles, and lifted the phone. The number took for ever to dial but rang only three times. A girl’s voice sounded in his ear, shrill and staccato.

‘Sam Blair,’ he said. ‘I’d like to speak to Tuk Than.’

He waited impatiently for half a minute before he heard Tuk’s oily voice on the other end of the line. ‘Mister Blair. Good to hear from you.’

‘Didn’t get you out of your bed, did I?’ Blair glanced at his watch. It would be nearly one a.m. in Bangkok.

‘No, no. I am in a business meeting.’

‘Strange hours you keep, Tuk.’

‘Was there something you wanted, Mister Blair?’ There was irritation in Tuk’s tone.

‘Just thought I’d check on that job we discussed a few weeks back.’

‘No problems. Your friend was very pleased with the merchandise.’

‘He got away alright, then?’

‘Oh, yes. Two weeks ago. No problem getting away. Problem getting back, I think.’

‘Yes, I think so, too. The news is not good.’

‘Not good.’ Tuk sighed audibly.

‘You haven’t heard anything, then?’

‘Nothing. And I’ll be honest with you, Mister Blair, I don’t expect to. You must excuse me now, I’m very busy.’

‘Sure.’ Blair was working hard at keeping his voice casual. ‘Just one other thing . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘You haven’t had any contact with his daughter?’

‘His daughter?’ Tuk sounded surprised.

‘Lisa. She was trying to reach him. I gave her your address.’

‘That was not very discreet, Mister Blair.’

‘Perhaps not. She hasn’t contacted you, then?’

‘No.’

Blair waited for something further, but nothing came. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That’s fine. You’ll let me know if you hear anything? About my friend – or his daughter?’

‘Of course. Goodnight, Mister Blair.’ The line went dead.

Blair put down the receiver thoughtfully and took off his spectacles to rub his eyes. He shook his head. Tuk was lying. The tension in his voice had been unmistakable. All the usual ersatz bonhomie absent. He replaced his spectacles, opened a small drawer on the left of the bureau and lifted out a well-thumbed passport. He flipped it open and a younger version of himself stared back at him. He turned another page. Still valid for two more years. Another drawer yielded a London telephone directory and he made a call.

‘British Airways.’

‘I’d like to reserve a seat on the first available flight to Bangkok.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Grace sat on the edge of a hard leather chair, gazing bleakly around Tuk’s spartan study. There was no warmth in the room, even in the light of the reading lamp on the desk. She was tired, her eyes gritty. It was almost forty hours since she had last slept. The desire to lie on, pressed close to Lisa’s warm young body, had been almost irresistible. But she had forced herself to leave the temptation of the girl’s room, knowing that she had to act fast if she was to save Lisa’s life.

She had heard Tuk speaking on the telephone in the hall, but it was several minutes since he had hung up and still he had not reappeared. The call had come at an infuriatingly inopportune moment. When she arrived, Tuk had been mellow and relaxed, and she guessed that he had been smoking – there had been that glaze about his eyes. He had listened to her, sipping an iced whisky, gazing off into the distance, his mind on other things. The fate of Elliot’s daughter seemed unimportant. His interest lay elsewhere.

The girl was unaware, Grace told him, that the General had bought her virginity. She thought she had been raped. She had no idea of Grace’s role, or Tuk’s, so she posed no threat to either of them. What harm would it do if they let her go, gave her back her passport and put her on a plane? She was only a child, after all.

And then the call had come, and Tuk’s indifference had shifted at the mention of the caller’s name. It had meant nothing to Grace. Sam Blair. English – or American perhaps.

She looked up as Tuk re-entered the room. His face was creased by a deep frown, his eyes black and thoughtful. Grace grew more tense. It did not augur well. He wandered to his desk without glancing in her direction and lifted his drink. For a long time he stood just holding it, staring into its amber depths, frozen in thoughtful contemplation. Then he turned a speculative gaze in her direction.

‘What I don’t understand, Grace,’ he said, ‘is your motivation. What is this girl to you?’

Grace gave a tiny shrug. ‘An innocent,’ she said.

Tuk showed his teeth in a nasty grin. ‘Have you slept with