Blood and Stone (21 page)

‘But not you?'

‘He's not really my type, a little too macho. I'm more drawn towards quiet intellectuals I suppose.'

‘So that rules me out,' said Mariner lightly, regretting it instantly. He was saved by a burst of raucous laughter from the group around the bar that distracted them both momentarily.

‘Journalists,' Mariner said. ‘I'd bet big money on it.'

Either that or Mariner's remark prompted Suzy to start gathering up her things. ‘I think it's time to go,' she said apologetically. ‘This beer is going down a bit too well. I try not to do too much drinking alone, but I did need to get out for a while this afternoon. The four walls were driving me mad.' By now it was getting dark beyond the windows.

‘How are you getting back to the hall?' Mariner asked.

‘I'll walk,' she said, sliding into her coat. ‘Calling a carriage is so nineteenth century. Besides, I'm not really used to drinking at this time of day – the fresh air will do me good.'

‘There must be a local taxi firm who could take you up there.'

‘What, to drive me all of three quarters of a mile? That would make me incredibly popular.'

‘Will you let me come with you then?' Mariner said, picking up his jacket. ‘You shouldn't walk up there after dark, not with everything that's happened.'

‘Why? Do you think I could be in danger?'

‘I don't suppose you are, except perhaps from opportunistic journalists,' Mariner admitted, ‘but I'd feel happier if you'd let me walk you.'

‘That's very chivalrous of you,' she smiled. ‘How could I possibly refuse?'

‘I do have an ulterior motive, of course,' Mariner admitted. ‘I'm interested to see what progress is being made.'

‘Honest at least,' she laughed.

Outside though, as they crossed the road Mariner missed his footing, tripped heavily on the kerb and stumbled.

‘Are you sure I shouldn't be walking
you
home?' Suzy said. When he was beside her again she slipped her arm into his. ‘I'd better hold on to you. You clearly can't be trusted out on your own.'

‘You sound too much like my sergeant,' Mariner said, drawing her in closer to him, noticing how easily they seemed to fall into step. For a while they walked in comfortable silence, their breath clouding the night air and Mariner wondering if she was as acutely aware of his physical presence as he was of her; the scent of her hair and the occasional pressure of her hip as it rolled against his outer thigh.

As they walked up the drive they could see the light flooding from the windows of the mobile incident unit, though the hall itself appeared to be in almost total darkness. ‘Mr Shapasnikov lives mostly at the back of the house,' Suzy explained. Instead of approaching the main entrance, she turned off before they got there, leading Mariner round to the side of the building. ‘As do I. I have rooms above the stables,' she explained. ‘I know my place.' Mariner saw for the first time that the hall was built in a square shape, and walking underneath a narrow archway they emerged into a wide inner courtyard, three sides of which were made up of the main house, and the furthest a block of two-storey buildings and outhouses. It was well lit by floodlights and to one side was a double garage. One of the up-and-over doors was open and inside, like beasts peering out from their lair, were two identical, sleek black SUVs. Two young men in dark trousers and white shirts loitered in the doorway of the garage, murmuring in low voices. One of them was smoking and, seeing Suzy, raised his cigarette in acknowledgement.

‘Who's that?' Mariner asked.

‘Reggie and Ronnie,' Suzy said softly, waving back.

‘You're kidding,' said Mariner.

‘Sorry,' she chuckled. ‘It's what I call them, though not to their faces I'm ashamed to say. Mr Shapasnikov's got several drivers-cum-gofers. I can never remember their names, though I do know that most of them would sound perfectly at home in a Tolstoy novel; Andrei, Vasili, Arkady, you get the idea. And to say so is probably racist or sexist, or perhaps both, but they all look the same to me with their cropped hair and sharp suits. When Mr Shapasnikov has his weekend events there are about a dozen of them scurrying about tending to his guests, but I've no idea what they do the rest of the time.'

Short hair and smart suits? Mariner didn't recognize either of the men by the garage, but that profile would nicely fit the man he'd seen talking to Theo Ashton at the farm. It might also explain the absence of a car. He made a mental note to mention it to Ryan Griffith.

Stopping alongside a wooden staircase, which led to the upper floor of one of the stone outbuildings, Suzy hunted in her bag for keys, before producing them with a flourish. ‘Well, thank you again for walking me home. Now I shall have to worry about
you
getting back safely.'

‘Oh, despite appearances, I can more or less take care of myself,' Mariner said. ‘I might even manage to not fall over.'

She seemed doubtful. ‘Well if you say so.'

After the slightest hesitation, Mariner leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, but at that precise moment she must have had the same idea, so that their mouths collided, taking them both by surprise.

‘Sorry, that didn't go well,' Mariner said.

‘It was a start,' she said, and stood on tiptoe to peck him lightly on the cheek.

‘I'll just wait until you're safely inside,' Mariner said, the cold suddenly feeling less penetrating. He watched her climb the staircase and close the door as a light inside came on.

M
aking his way back through the village, past the lights of the pub, Mariner became suddenly aware of a recognizable figure up ahead, bowed under the weight of a heavy pack, coming towards him into the village from the opposite direction. He was about to call out a greeting when abruptly the man turned off into the only lane that left the main road just here. As he got to the junction Mariner was convinced he'd recognized the man and called out to him. At his call Jeremy Bryce turned.

‘Hello again,' Mariner hailed. ‘Tom Mariner. I gave you a lift the other night.'

Bryce peered at him through the darkness as gradually recognition dawned. ‘Well, well, my good Samaritan,' he said, walking back towards Mariner. ‘You had quite a head start on me. I didn't expect to catch you up.' His voice was hoarse and nasal.

‘I'm staying here for a few days,' Mariner said. ‘Visiting … someone I know. Where have you walked from today?'

‘Oh, I came up and over the tops.' He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of Devil's Mouth, though given the man's record Mariner wasn't sure how meaningful that was. Bryce grinned broadly. ‘Well, this is a coincidence!'

Mariner wanted to point out that it wasn't really, given that they were both walking the same footpath in the same direction, but he didn't like to quash Bryce's enthusiasm. In truth he was surprised that he hadn't appeared sooner, but then it was likely that there would have been a couple of unscheduled detours along the way. The man was quite literally a walking liability. ‘I tried to track you down after I gave you that lift,' Mariner said. ‘But you didn't stay at the Lamb and Flag then.'

‘Ah, no.' Bryce managed a sheepish grin. ‘I must have misunderstood. I couldn't stay there after all. I pride myself in speaking a bit of Welsh, name like mine and all that, but clearly I'm not as competent as I'd like to think.' Averting his face from Mariner, he let rip an explosive sneeze, before blowing his nose loudly. ‘It was pretty chilly in the climbing hut last night. After getting so wet, I think I might have caught a cold.'

‘Really?' said Mariner, but the irony was lost on Bryce. A steady drizzle was beginning to fall again; Mariner could see it in the lamp light. ‘Where are you planning to stay tonight?' he asked Bryce, noting that the lane he was on would take him out of the village.

‘I had considered the pub here, but it's heaving.' Bryce lifted his map case, running a finger over it. ‘There's a climber's hut up on the hillside here I think. It's just a couple of miles away over in the next valley.'

Mariner knew that route; he'd covered part of it two days before. It wasn't easy even in daylight, and it was rather more than a couple of miles. ‘It's a long way to go after dark and that'll be freezing too,' Mariner said. ‘Don't you think the warmth of a B&B might be better tonight?' he suggested.

‘Well, I fear I might have left it a little late,' Bryce said. ‘I don't seem to be very good at planning.'

Mariner made an impulsive and somewhat risky decision. ‘Look, I'm staying at an old youth hostel just up there. I know the owner. It's basic but there's a hot shower and some heating, and you could at least get some food at the pub. Why don't I see if you can come and stay there until you're feeling better?'

‘Do you think that would be acceptable?' Bryce jumped at it.

‘I'm sure it would,' said Mariner. ‘You can get a good night's sleep and tomorrow you can pick up the trail again. No sense in being a martyr, is there?'

‘Well it does sound rather attractive,' Bryce conceded, by now visibly shaking with cold.

‘Don't happen to play chess, do you?' Mariner asked as they walked back along the main street.

‘Well, yes, I do.'

Even better. ‘This is a fortunate meeting anyway,' Mariner said. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you.'

‘Oh?'

‘A locket.'

‘The locket. Heavens, I hadn't even noticed that it was missing. If I lose that I will be in the dog house,' he said. ‘My wife despairs of me; head in the clouds most of the time.'

That Mariner could well believe. Back at the hostel he knocked and somewhat cautiously put his head around the kitchen door, where Elena was standing stirring something savoury and delicious-smelling in a saucepan. ‘I was wondering where you'd got to,' she said. Mariner saw her gaze shift slightly as she noticed Bryce out in the yard. ‘Ah, that's sweet, have you found a friend?'

‘Sort of,' Mariner said. ‘His name is Jeremy Bryce. I picked him up as a hitch-hiker a few nights ago, on my way out to Tregaron, and we've just run into each other again. He's walking the Black Mountain Way, doing what I am really, but he's caught a cold and is in quite a state. How would you feel about him staying in the hostel too? It'll just be for a night or so, until he moves on. He seems like a nice guy, but I think he's some kind of academic and orienteering is definitely not one of his strengths. I think it would be irresponsible to send him out into the night again.' Mariner left a dramatic pause before adding, artfully: ‘He's a chess player.'

‘Is that meant to impress me?'

‘Well, he's another opponent for Cerys, and if he's a college professor, I bet he's good,' Mariner pressed his case home.

Elena rolled her eyes. ‘And what will he eat?'

‘That's no problem; we'll go down to the pub.'

She broke into a pained smile. ‘It's all right. I've made enough of this to feed a couple of battalions of the Welsh Guards. I was going to freeze it but you may as well have it.'

‘You could look upon it as training for when you've got the B&B up and running,' Mariner said, helpfully.

Elena made a show of grimacing. ‘Go and get yourselves cleaned up. It'll be on the table in half an hour.'

After a brief introduction to Elena, Mariner took Bryce up into the hostel. Knowing already that the room he was sleeping in was the only one habitable, they tested the bunks and found that the one directly over Mariner's would be the only one strong enough to take the big man's weight.

‘I'll go up there,' Mariner offered. ‘You take mine.'

But Bryce wouldn't have it. ‘No, you've found me a warm bed for the night.' He tested the mattress. ‘And a soft one. This is more comfort than I've had in days. I can manage perfectly well up there.'

Mariner let Bryce go first in the shower. He'd unpacked some of his things and his wallet lay on the table in the dorm. Mariner couldn't help it. Flicking it open he saw a faded and creased snapshot of a very pretty woman with her arms draped around two smiling little girls, one blonde and one dark. Lucky Bryce.

While the two men ate Elena had the TV on low in the kitchen and, after a bit, the local news bulletin came on. She turned up the volume so that they could hear. News about Glenn McGinley's progress, not surprisingly, had been displaced by the murder of Theo Ashton.

‘I don't understand,' said Bryce. ‘Is that what all the police activity is about? I saw several police cars when I came into the village, but I thought that perhaps it was part of the manhunt for this fugitive. I saw the headlines on a newsagent's board a couple of days ago indicating that he might have headed into Wales.'

‘Nothing to do with him,' Mariner said. ‘A local lad was stabbed to death in the woodland down the road yesterday.' Mariner decided not to reveal his part in it yet.

‘Good God,' Bryce said, grimly. ‘This is the last place you'd expect it.'

Theo Ashton was described on the news as a young man in his late twenties who had lived at the eco-project for several years. His distraught parents were filmed arriving at a hotel in nearby Llanerch. There followed some picturesque footage of the village, and a piece to camera by a reporter standing outside the pub saying that police were continuing their enquiries.

Suddenly Elena leapt up and switched off the TV, on a pretence of clearing away some of the dishes. ‘All right, love?' she said, as Cerys appeared in the kitchen doorway, and clearly signalling a change in the conversation.

‘Hi Cerys, this is Jeremy, a friend of mine,' Mariner said immediately, hoping that Bryce would have understood the signals and would respond appropriately. ‘Jeremy, this is Cerys.'