It landed with a heavy thud on the polished wooden floor, taking large chips out of it. I didn’t feel guilty.Luckily, no alarm bells had gone off. Score one for the good guys.Expensive rugs were positioned around the room. A small TV in the corner. Matching burgundy leather sofas with tartan fabric trimming, and assorted throw cushions. The kitchen beyond was neat, pristine. Polished chrome and pale white wood.An open door to the side led upstairs, and another ground-floor door was closed. I was about to open it when Del Rio shook his head and raised his pistol once more.He kicked the door open. A downstairs bathroom. Empty.Upstairs, Annabelle Weston had converted one of the two bedrooms into a small office. The venetian blind covering the window and the plain wall looked all too familiar. She had filmed Hannah’s pieces to camera for us there.Thirty minutes later and we had finished searching. Nothing. Hannah couldn’t tell us where the professor had gone, either. She didn’t know.I’m not a psychiatrist but I could see how easily Hannah could have been manipulated.
What do You think about Jack Morgan 02 - Private London?
