‘So what happens now?’ asked Jason.
‘I understand it was a hit-and-run, so the police will need to speak to you when they get here. Other than that, there’s nothing more you can do. You might as well go home. We’ll call you if there’s any change in her condition, but I’m cautiously optimistic.’
He left them with a member of the administrative staff to deal with formalities and paperwork, and to wait for the police.
Helen went back to her seat, and Jason followed her. If anything she seemed more uneasy now, even after the relatively good news about Fay. It made no sense.
‘I’m not sure what to tell the police when they get here,’ she said.
He took her hand. ‘You just tell them what you saw. No need to sweat it.’
‘If I do that, then you …’ She pulled her hand away and got up.
Concern that her feelings for him had changed turned to horror as it dawned on him what she was trying hard not to say. It churned in his stomach like a raging beast waking from its slumber.
It couldn’t be.
‘What did you mean by your question “where would my loyalties lie”?’ He heard his own voice coming from far away, disembodied from the rest of him. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’
She took a deep breath. ‘Because one of the witnesses said the car was aiming for me, and that Fay saved my life by pushing me out of the way. And I saw it myself as it drove off. It was like the one your father has.’
Jason jumped up from his seat. ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but the witness …’
He stared back at her, noticed how she almost cringed against the wall, then lowered his hands which he’d balled into fists without noticing. A low table stacked with leaflets stood in the centre of the room. He kicked it hard, sending it skidding across the floor, then stormed out of the waiting area, ignoring her pleas for him not to go.
In the cobbled lane outside the old warehouse which had been converted into offices, Derek Moody’s black, luxurious but nevertheless nondescript car was parked. Jason knelt and inspected the front. The left bumper had a recent-looking dent in it.
Closing his eyes for a moment, he held back the anger which rolled over him in waves, but found it impossible. Instead he tore into the building, past a startled-looking security officer and up the stairs to the top floor.
‘You can’t just barge in,’ said Ms Barclay when she saw him.
He said nothing, only held up his hand, and the woman who could have silenced a lion stepped back and let him pass.
His father was just leaving, buttoning up his suit jacket while the bodyguard held a briefcase for him. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Jason.
‘Jason, what a—’
He never finished the sentence. Jason reached him in three strides and lashed out. When Derek ducked, an uncontrollable rage exploded inside him, and he struck again, this time connecting with his father’s nose. There was a satisfying crunch and a yelp of pain, and Derek crumbled to his knees on the floor.
‘You bastard!’ Jason shouted. ‘You fucking bastard!’
Moving swiftly, Jones was on him, one arm pinning him to his massive chest, the other behind his neck, poised to snap it. Jason almost didn’t care.
‘Jones …’ Derek groaned and shook his head. Jones released Jason as quickly as he’d seized him, and Jason stumbled forward but managed to steady himself. Jones stared at him impassively.
‘What the devil’s got into you?’ Although his father’s voice was muffled and nasal as he tried to stem the blood from his bleeding nose, it still held the usual icy authority.
‘You fucking ran her over!’
‘I’ve no idea who or what you’re talking about.’ Helped by Jones, Derek sat up on one of the leather sofas, and the muscle-man handed him a handful of tissues from a box on the coffee table.
‘Head back, Mr Moody. That’ll stop the blood.’
Ms Barclay appeared in the doorway, her hands to her cheeks in horror. ‘Oh, my word! Jason, what have you done?’
‘Go help Ms Barclay with the first aid box, would you, Jones.’ Dismayed, Jason’s father stared at the bright red stains on his white shirt and the lapels of his jacket. ‘Oh, and Ms Barclay, I’ll need a clean shirt and suit as well. I believe you keep a couple of spares for me.’
‘Certainly, Mr Moody.’ Recovered now, she sent Jason a stern look and tutted on her way out as if he was merely a very naughty boy.
Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet, he thought with grim satisfaction.
‘With all due respect, Mr Moody,’ said Jones, ‘I think I better stay here.’