Frankie's Letter (31 page)

Despite the apparent solitude of the riverbank, he knew that one of his guard dogs, at least, was near at hand.

Anthony longed for an encounter with Smith. He was in the mood to relish a fight. He'd half-expected Smith to make a move, now he was alone and apparently unprotected, but Smith, frustratingly, left him unmolested.

The door to Starhanger was open. He squared his shoulders and walked up the steps and into the hall. Vyse was crossing from the morning room into the library. He stopped as Anthony walked in, evidently surprised to see him.

Anthony paused enquiringly. ‘Was there something you wanted, Vyse?'

Vyse picked up a silver salver from the hall table. ‘There's a letter for you, sir. It was delivered by hand this morning.'

Anthony took the letter. Vyse cleared his throat, looking at Anthony awkwardly. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but could I enquire—'

‘Colonel!' Tara stood at the end of the hall. ‘I've been waiting for you.' She came a few steps into the hall. ‘That will be all, Vyse.'

‘Very good, Miss.'

Vyse gave a small bow and withdrew.

Anthony stuffed the letter into his pocket and followed Tara into the conservatory. ‘I had the idea Vyse wanted to say something to me.'

Tara shut the door behind them. ‘I'm sure he did,' she said grimly. ‘But although Vyse is one of the best, I'm not having the servants discuss family affairs with a guest.'

She looked at him appraisingly, her face white with tension. She started to speak, swallowed hard, and tried again. ‘Colonel Brooke, where is Josette?'

Anthony stared at her. At the back of his mind, a little shoot of fear took root and started to grow. ‘What d'you mean?'

‘Josette. She's with you, isn't she?'

‘No. I haven't seen her today.'

Tara's eyes widened. ‘Then where is she? She's gone.'

Anthony looked at her, unable, for the moment, to make sense of her words. Then he grabbed hold of her arms, his face very close to hers. ‘Gone? What do you mean, gone?'

Tara's startled eyes met his. ‘We don't know. Her maid said she was in her room last night, but her bed's not been slept in.' Her voice broke. ‘I thought she'd gone with you.'

‘
What!
'
His grip tightened.

Tara's lip trembled. ‘You're hurting me.'

He let her go, then, realizing what strain she was under, helped her to a seat. ‘Tell me what this is all about.'

Tara slumped helplessly. ‘I thought you and Josette had gone off together.' She moved her head to one side, avoiding looking at him directly. ‘I know how you feel about her. It's obvious. It's the way you look at her, the way your face lights up when she comes in the room. I know.'

Anthony looked at her silently.

‘It's a nightmare,' she added desperately. ‘First Uncle Patrick was arrested, then Josette disappeared and you couldn't be found. I can't understand what's happening but it's you, isn't it? You're responsible for everything.'

He met her eyes, schooling his face into blankness. She reacted with sudden fury. ‘For heaven's sake, Colonel, don't pretend!' Her voice was savage. ‘You know, don't you?'

Anthony couldn't hold out any longer. Silently he inclined his head.

Tara gave a little choking gasp.

‘I know some of it,' said Anthony quietly. ‘I don't know what's happened to Mrs Sherston. Haven't you any idea? Could she have gone up to London, say?'

‘She wouldn't go off by herself to London in the middle of the night. I rang Mr Elswick and he hasn't seen her. He said he'd telephone if she turned up, but there's been no word.'

‘What about the police?'

Tara shook her head. ‘I didn't want to tell them.' She paused, looking at him reluctantly. ‘Not in the circumstances. What I thought were the circumstances, anyway. Shall I ring them now?'

Anthony hesitated. If the police were called that meant interviews, an investigation, and delays. He suddenly remembered the letter Vyse had given him. ‘Wait a moment,' he said. ‘This could tell us something.'

He pulled out the letter, Tara watching him. ‘That's not Josette's writing,' she said.

As Anthony read the letter, his stomach turned over. He'd wanted Smith to make his move. He'd got his wish.

Dear Colonel Brooke,

By this time you will be aware that a certain lady of your acquaintance has disappeared. If you want to see her again, be on the main road outside Starhanger at six o'clock this evening. You will, of course, be unarmed and alone.

James Smith

He met Tara's watchful, apprehensive gaze and decided to trust her. It was, perhaps, weakness on his part but, in a world of shadows, misunderstandings and half-truths, there was something deeply appealing about her honesty. She hadn't beaten about the bush but asked him an awkward question straight out. He wanted Tara to understand why he acted as he had done. He wanted that very much. He held out the letter to her. ‘Read that.'

Tara frowned and took the letter. She read it through and looked up, puzzled. ‘What's this about? Who's James Smith?'

Anthony sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. ‘James Smith wants to kill me.' Tara made an incredulous noise but he waved her quiet. ‘He's an enemy agent. We've crossed swords before now and I've escaped by the skin of my teeth.'

‘Are you serious, Colonel?'

‘Perfectly serious. He's killed at least two others.'

Tara put her hand to her mouth. ‘I don't believe it,' she whispered. ‘I don't believe any of it. Josette can't have been kidnapped. This is England, for heaven's sake. You're up to something. I know you're a spy. You came here to spy on my mother, didn't you? She's dead and Uncle Patrick's in prison, and it's all down to you. I knew you weren't real. I don't believe in James Smith. I don't believe that's a real letter. You wrote it.' She stopped and her voice wavered. ‘Didn't you?'

Anthony didn't answer her directly. Instead he got up and went to the conservatory door leading into the garden and opened it.

With Tara following him, he walked out onto the terrace, into the garden and down to the copse of trees flanking the wall that separated Starhanger from the road. He stood beside the trees and whistled. Tara gave a yelp of surprise as Cooke emerged from the wood. ‘Meet Lieutenant Cooke.'

‘At your service, Miss,' Cooke said with a smile.

Anthony could see Cooke's appearance like a rabbit from a hat dealt the final blow to Tara's scepticism. ‘It's all right,' he said reassuringly. ‘This is one of my men.' He smiled fleetingly. ‘He was one of the burglars the other night.' He gave Cooke the letter. ‘It's from Smith. He's got Mrs Sherston.'

Cooke read the letter quickly with a growing smile of satisfaction. ‘And I'd say we'd got him, Colonel. If he turns up at six, we'll have him on ice. What's your idea, sir? Parkinson's back at the inn but Bedford and I are ready and waiting. If he shows up, we've got him.'

‘As a plan, that's simple enough to work,' said Anthony. ‘I presume Smith's going to abduct me, not gun me down in the road.'

Cooke sucked his cheeks in. ‘He might try, sir, but I doubt it. He'll want to find out exactly what happened at Marriotvale, to say nothing of the U-boat. I think you're right. I don't think he'll kill you out of hand. My guess is Smith or one of his confederates will show up in either his car or that motorbike and expect you to step aboard nice and quietly.'

‘Which I will do, of course,' said Anthony. ‘He's got Mrs Sherston. We can't risk anything happening to her.'

‘We can't guarantee anything with a man like Smith,' said Cooke. ‘I wish we'd nailed him last night. He must have enticed Mrs Sherston outside somehow.'

‘Can we
do
something,' Tara broke in impatiently. ‘Other than just wait for this Smith, I mean? Can't we look for Josette?'

‘Where do you suggest looking?'

Tara brushed her hair back from her face. ‘I don't know but I want to try. Someone might have seen something.'

‘They might,' Anthony admitted. ‘And you'd know who to ask.' He hesitated. ‘The only thing is, you could be running into danger.'

Cooke shook his head. ‘If you'll excuse me, sir, I can't see it. Smith won't want another hostage. He'll be strained as it is, keeping Mrs Sherston under wraps. He'd expect Miss O'Bryan to look for Mrs Sherston. It's the natural thing to do. He won't realize she knows the truth and, with Miss O'Bryan knowing the area, she might find something out.'

Anthony put a restraining hand on Tara's arm. ‘Be careful. We're dealing with a very ruthless man. No heroics.'

‘No heroics,' she repeated. ‘All right. I'll take one of the horses out. I'll cover more ground that way.'

‘If you must,' said Anthony reluctantly. ‘Cooke, can you keep an eye on Miss O'Bryan?'

Cooke shook his head. ‘I'm sorry, sir, but our instructions are to keep tabs on you.' He smiled at Tara. ‘After all, the young lady's only taking a look around, aren't you, Miss?' He touched his hat to her and disappeared into the bushes once more.

Anthony turned to Tara and led the way back across the garden into the conservatory. ‘Do you believe me now?'

‘Of course,' she said abstractedly.

‘In that case,' said Anthony settling down on the conservatory sofa, ‘I've got a question. You said I'd come here to spy on your mother. Why did you think that?'

She drew a deep breath. ‘Uncle Patrick was excited about you. He said you were this marvellous man who'd done all sorts of incredible things in Germany, and he'd invited you down here to interview you. My mother smelt a rat at once. She . . . Well, she'd got involved with some very odd people.'

Tara's brow furrowed. ‘I didn't like them.' She hunched forward earnestly. ‘You must understand. She was passionate about Ireland. When the war started she was convinced Germany would win and this was Ireland's opportunity at last.' She looked at him in perplexity. ‘I don't know what she did. Can you tell me?'

‘She sent information to the Germans,' Anthony said quietly.

Tara drew her breath in sharply, studying his face with wide, frightened eyes. ‘I don't believe you,' she said uncertainly.

Anthony remained silent.

‘It can't be true!' Tara broke out. ‘What about Terry? Did Terry know? Terry Cavanaugh?'

Anthony nodded.

‘So she was right about him, too. She said he was a spy. Worse than that, a traitor. After all, he was as Irish as she was.'

‘He was American,' corrected Anthony.

She waved his objection aside. ‘That's just where he was born, not who he was.' Her voice wavered. ‘Did you . . . Did you have her killed?'

‘Good God, no!' The exclamation was startled out of him. ‘Miss O'Bryan, we don't do things like that.' He saw the doubt in her face. ‘No, really we don't. Cedric Chapman killed your mother and he was on her side.'

She bowed her head and sat for a long moment. When she spoke, Anthony could tell she was trying hard not to let her voice betray her emotions. ‘Are you sure it was Chapman?'

‘As sure as we can be. I came here to find a spy. I'm not proud of my profession, but it's necessary. I found positive proof your mother had been dealing with dangerous men. The most dangerous man of all is James Smith. I think Chapman worked for him.'

She looked at him, meeting his gaze square on. ‘Colonel Brooke, swear to me you are telling the truth.'

‘I am,' said Anthony quietly.

He saw the belief in her eyes. She put her hand to her mouth and sat without speaking.

‘I never suspected a thing,' she said at last. ‘Now that you've told me – well, I'm not surprised. It was all for my father, you know? It was all for him.' Once again she was silent for a while, then she shook her head impatiently. ‘It still doesn't make sense! Why should Chapman turn on my mother?'

Anthony shrugged. ‘I don't know what went wrong that afternoon your mother met Chapman.'

‘Haven't you any idea? Wasn't there any clue?'

Anthony was about to deny it, but was struck by a sudden thought. He took a small cardboard envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her. ‘There's this.'

She opened the envelope and took out the photograph of the little girl, the child with the solemn eyes.

As she looked at the picture, a grim suspicion grew in Anthony's mind, a suspicion he fought hard to deny.

It was obvious the picture meant something to her. He could see her body grow rigid as she stared at the little square of cardboard. He could see her pull herself together, see the effort she made to relax. He could see the muscles in her throat contract.

‘I don't know anything about it.' She put the photograph back in the envelope and handed it back to him. ‘Where did you get it?'

Anthony felt a frozen chill of disappointment. Tara, honest Tara, had just told a deliberate lie.

‘Never mind,' he said, taking back the envelope and returning it to his pocket. ‘I don't suppose it's important.'

‘No,' she agreed, her eyes very thoughtful. ‘No, I don't suppose it is.' She didn't speak for a few moments. ‘What about Uncle Patrick?' she asked eventually. ‘Why was he arrested?'

Anthony looked away. ‘He was passing information to the Germans.'

‘That's nonsense,' she said, her voice shaky. ‘Absolute nonsense. Look, you came here to find a spy. You found my mother. Isn't that enough?'

‘I'm sorry,' was all he could say.

She sat for a few more moments then abruptly rose to her feet. ‘Colonel Brooke, I apologize for the suspicions I harboured about you and Josette. I was wrong. I see that now.' She walked to the door leading back into the house and then stopped, her hand on the handle and turned back to him. ‘Are you really going to wait for Smith?'