Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (27 page)

‘No Miss, I can’t. The devil in her mind would surely find us out.’

Christiana glanced to the clock, ‘Well if you’re sure, but something’s bothering Lucy and it sure does make her violent, so I reckon whatever it is, has to be in the priest-hole because we’ve looked everywhere else, and if it is, all our troubles could be over.’

Martha winced as she touched her eye, ‘Really? But how long would you need?’

‘Only a few minutes.’

She took a deep breath, ‘Alright. Well come on then, I’ll show you the way.’

Leading her into the depths of the rambling old house, Martha opened a cupboard, switched on a pale light and began plodding up a flight of dark, musty old stairs, but about halfway up, she stopped on a small landing and began to fumble with a strange wooden carving set high up in the wall.

Christiana heard a dull click, and right in front of her eyes, a hidden door in the panelling began to swing inwards, and as she stared in surprise, hot moist air swirled out of a murky room of shadows. Peering inside, she saw stairs leading up through the darkness to yet another door, and reaching inside, Martha switched on a light so dim she could hardly see.

She blinked, ‘Martha, this is amazing. But what is this place?’

‘A priest hole, Miss, it’s from the old days of the persecutions when Roman Catholics hid their priests to save their lives. Now come on, there’s no time for chattering, so up you go and I’ll lock you in, but I’ll be back in five minutes, and no longer.’

As Christiana stepped into the gloom, a sweet but foul stench came to fill her nostrils.

‘Oh my god. What is that smell?’

Martha stared, stony faced, ‘Now that is none of your concern. So up you go.’

Martha pulled the door tightly shut, and when it clicked, Christiana found herself alone, and in the gloom, felt for a handle, but there was nothing on this side, and then she heard Martha’s muffled footsteps fading away on the stairs.

As her eyes became more accustomed to the half-light, she walked over to the tall stairs and began groping up the banister to the next door, but before she could reach up, she felt something crawl onto her hand.

She stopped, and peering through the murky light, saw a huge, black, hairy spider beginning to crawl along her arm, its myriad eyes looking directly into hers.

The spider was huge, fat and heavy and suspended on long, bent, hairy legs, and she knew instinctively it didn’t belong in this country, and as she watched, she felt something moving first on one ankle and then the other, and in that heart stopping moment, realised the priest hole was alive with enormous spiders.

Her mind raced, but there was no point in going back down because she didn’t know how to open the door, and that bitch Martha had already gone away, so her only chance was to go up the stairs and open the other door, but what would she find in there?

Taking a breath, she fixed her eyes on the spider as it crawled up past her elbow, and trying to ignore the creatures on her legs, glanced up to the handle above her, and with a swipe, brushed the spider from her arm, and lunging up the steps, wrenched at the handle and flung the door wide open.

Christiana trembled and convulsed in the darkness, and finding the light switch, flicked it on and was suddenly stood panting in brilliant light, and slamming the door, began to frantically twist and thrash as she tried to brush the spiders from her body, and as they fell with a thud, cursed and stamped as they scuttled away, and thrashing in a frenzy, kicked and stomped until every one of them was dead.

Slumping against the wall, her mind swirled while her heart pounded fit to burst.

How could this be, these spiders belonged in a hot country, not here in England.

So why did these lunatic people keep the god-damned things here in the priest hole?

It made no sense. What could be the point of it all?

But there again, it was just another madness that could only exist at Sheverill’s Farm, and to these crazy people, these hideous spiders obviously served some kind of purpose, but what the hell could it be?

Gradually she became calm again, and with her vision back in focus, stood in surprise, for this was no dreary hidey hole for books and diaries, this was nothing less than a small hi-tech office.

Bemused, she looked around more carefully and saw it was fitted with every conceivable piece of computer technology, IT gadgets and communications.

But what had Robin Sheverill used it for, and what could have been its purpose?

It was just amazing and she wished there was time to switch it all on and see what it could do, but that might be pushing her luck too far, so with a shrug, turned and saw laying on a large old mahogany desk, was a fax, an alphabet and a pad.

26

Frank let his lingering thoughts of Anderton slip away, after all, what was done was done, but as he paced up and down the balcony he knew something was bothering him, for although Anderton’s explanation made perfect sense, a piece of the puzzle was missing.

Lighting a cigarette he looked over the balustrade and saw that a builder’s sheet had been draped over the body and it reminded him that CI Hillsdown would soon be brought up.

So what was it that was nagging away at his memory?

Thinking back he remembered that although Sheverill had access to Leonardo, and Anderton had the cradle, they’d still taken one hell of a chance as they could easily have been seen, and then that memory came flooding back.

Of course. That’s how they must have got away with it.

Walking through to the lounge, he picked up the phone and called the main gate.

‘Hi sarge, this is Frank Lewis, so how’s the prisoner getting on?’

‘Well he seems to have quietened down, sir.’

‘Good. Now listen, things have changed, so keep him in the cells until I phone and then get him up here PDQ. Understood?’

‘Yes sir. I’ll have the transport standing by.’

‘Right, and let me know as soon as Miss Goodwin gets back, and by the way, did you tell Hillsdown about Anderton?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Nothing, he went as white as a sheet and he’s been staring at the wall ever since.’

‘Good.’

Frank felt the buzz.

Things were beginning to finally work out, and deep in thought, walked down to Evelyn’s apartment, but she seemed nervous and apprehensive.

‘Are you okay?’

Her eyes were blank at the thought of Anderton, ‘Yes. I’m just feeling a bit queasy.’

‘Well you’ve had a rough day, but things should get better now, and you don’t have to worry anymore about the killer in the labyrinth.’

‘I don’t?’

‘No, not anymore. It was Anderton, he killed Dudley, and he’s dead as well now.’

‘Yes, I know.’

He was surprised, ‘You do?’

‘Well you see, I just happened to look out, and saw …’

His face became solid, ‘I see.’

She flustered, ‘But don’t worry, as far as I’m concerned, he deserved it.’

‘Yeah. But that changes everything, so we’ll need to come to an understanding.’

Evelyn felt unsure, ‘In what way, exactly.’

‘The future. So how do you see it from your point of view?’

‘Well obviously I’d like to keep my job, but that doesn’t look possible now, does it.’

‘I’m not sure. In fact it could be better than that if you’re good at scratching backs.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Head of Station. They’ll need someone quick, and you’re right up to speed.’

She half smiled, ‘Mr Lewis, it’s most unlikely they’d offer the position to me.’

‘Why not, you know as much as Dudley, don’t you?’

‘Probably more if the truth were known, most secretaries usually do.’

‘Well there you are then.’

‘But we both know the job is bound to be offered to a government favourite.’

‘True, but that could change if Cardinal suggested its own preferred candidate.’

She stared at him, ‘Me?’

‘Why not? But if you agree, you’ll be getting into bed with Cardinal.’

‘And what would that involve?’

‘Not much. Just do as you’re told and keep your mouth shut.’

‘I see. Well that’s all part of a secretary’s remit, so it wouldn’t be anything new.’

‘We’re agreed then, but be careful, there’ll be no going back.’

‘Yes, I do understand, but if that’s what I want, I can’t complain, can I.’

‘Alright. I’ll make the necessary arrangements and inform the right people.’

Evelyn felt excited and bewildered, ‘I don’t know what to say, except thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me too soon, because if you foul up, Cardinal doesn’t take prisoners.’

The phone rang, and picking it up, she listened for a moment.

‘It’s Sergeant Jenkins, he’s been searching all over the estate for you.’

‘Oh bollocks, I’d forgotten about him.’

He took the phone, ‘Hi sarge, what’s the problem?’

‘Sir, it’s Mr Montague and Miss Goodwin. They came back over ten minutes ago. Mr Montague’s gone back to the clinic and Miss Goodwin’s on her way to the Manor.’

‘Shit. Oh well, never mind, it’s done now, so you’d better get Hillsdown ready.’

He cursed. He’d intended calling Angela on the red phone from house reception, but Tara was on her way, so that was no good, he didn’t want her involved until he was ready.

So the only chance he had left was for Evelyn to swipe him through on the fifth floor and use the red phone at security.

Calling reception, he told the guard to find a way of delaying Miss Goodwin for at least fifteen minutes, and taking the lift, Evelyn swiped him through the chamber and waited as he made the call from security.

‘Angela, it’s Frank. Now listen, I’ve got some really good news about that blocked file, but I can’t talk now, there’s no time, but I do need a date from that file you showed me in the picnic area, and it’s the very last date that Sheverill went into Leonardo alone.’

Angela felt a rush of irritation, ‘Oh, alright then, hang on and I’ll check.’

Flipping her case open she took out the file and flicked through the pages.

‘His last date of entry was 20.3.01 and it’s logged as a routine security check.’

‘Thanks, I’ll see you later, I’ve got to run now.’

‘Alright, but don’t be late tonight. Understood?’

Angela felt drained after the day, the cat and mouse arguments with her Special Operator leaving her tense and exhausted, and once again she thought that maybe the old adage could well be true.

There did indeed seem to be a fine line between genius and insanity, although in the case of her Special Operator it seemed to lean dangerously close to the latter, but in truth, was that surprising given her history?

No, after all, her work in Ireland for British Military Intelligence had been so good she’d been conscripted into the shadowy, Force Research Unit, and her cover as a high class call girl for the IRA hierarchy had paid dividends in pure gold, and in her own words,

It’s quite amazing what some men will say when they’re humping.

But the pressure of living one step removed from a bullet in the brain, meant sooner or later the inevitable was bound to happen, and when it did, she wrongly identified two IRA targets, but it was a simple enough mistake, given that her handlers had been running her for over two years with out of date photographs. Then came the two hits, one right after the other. First a Kalashnikov ambush on a bus full of school kids, and then a bomb blast on a mother and toddler group.

She spent four years in a mental institution, and considering her grasp on reality, it should really have been a life term, except Angela wanted her for special work and had pulled all the necessary Continuum strings to get her released under supervision.

But what she hadn’t counted on, was her insisting on bringing out with her those two total maniacs, the crazy brother and sister double act, but at least they’d been located out of harm’s way at the farm, and no-one with any sense was ever likely to visit that place.

Pouring a glass of wine, she looked at the clock and wondered when Frank would come back because she felt the need of him to relax her, but when her thoughts drifted towards the pleasures of the flesh, she remembered Tara Goodwin.

Picking up the black phone, Frank called the main gate.

‘Sarge, this is Lewis. Now you remember those old duty rosters we spoke about, well dig them out because I need a date, the twentieth of March.’

The phone clunked down on the desk and he heard the rattle of a filing cabinet.

‘I have it, sir. So what do you need to know?’

‘Just this. How many officers were detailed for house perimeter checks on that day?’

The sergeant looked down the list, his eyes blurring in surprise as he stared at the entry.

‘Well, actually, there weren’t any …’

‘What?’

Quickly turning the page, a band of hot sweat formed inside the sergeant’s collar.

‘It seems a training day was organised for a dog handler refresher course.’

‘Oh really, and who organised that?’

The sergeant cleared his throat, ‘It was the chief, sir. Chief Inspector Hillsdown.’

‘Right. And that’s the last piece of the puzzle.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Never mind, you can bring him up now. I’m just about ready for him.’

Watching Frank march back to the chamber, Evelyn instinctively knew that something had changed, the look of him now reminding her when he’d strode off to Anderton’s hut, and when they swiped through, he told her exactly what he wanted.

‘Evelyn, I need to use Tara’s apartment but she’ll be coming up soon, so meet her at the lift and find a way to keep her in your apartment until I call. Okay?’

‘Yes, alright. Anything else?’

‘Yeah. Close the balcony doors, I don’t want her out there.’

As soon as they stepped out of the lift, it was called down, and guessing Tara was on her way up, he left Evelyn to wait for her and walked off along the hall.

Letting himself into her apartment, he went over to the folds of the heavy curtains and took out the broom, and just as before, placed the handle against the balustrade and strung out the nylon twine across the balcony.

Adjusting the tension to roughly suit Hillsdown’s height and weight, he carefully ran the twine through the curtains, and angling it to pass over a coffee table, firmly tied the knot to the radiator pipe.

Walking over to the open fireplace he chose a long, red, decorative candle embedded in a solid brass holder, and taking it back to the coffee table, placed it precisely under the run of the transparent twine.

Now he was ready, and as he waited for Hillsdown, mulled through the events and everything seemed to fall into place.

Sheverill had access to Leonardo, Hillsdown had control of the guards and Anderton had access to the cradle.

It had been a good operation, and Sheverill, the true soldier, had timed it just right with March being a month of short murky days which worked perfectly with the lousy camera settings and the old fashioned ideas of light refraction.

So all Sheverill had to do, was hold up the pages of the file while Anderton sat in his cradle and took the photos through the window with not a guard in site, but there was the obvious flaw, because Sheverill had been forced to break the seal on the file, so it was inevitable that sooner or later the violation would be discovered.

It all seemed to add up except although Sheverill’s status had given him official sanction to advise on general security and anti-terrorist measures, it wouldn’t have given him access to the files and he wouldn’t have known which file was worth his life to photograph.

So he must have been acting under orders from someone who knew which file to copy, but paid the price of a double cross and ended up in the Rhine with an ice pick in his brain.

Christiana cleared her mind as she stared at the pad and alphabet, knowing that somehow they had to fit in with the technology of this place, but how, there was so much.

Looking around she saw a filing cabinet and shelves crammed with manuals and disks, then three phones of different colours and computers with monitors, modems, disk drives, zip drives and external hard drives, a printer, scanner, copier, fax machine and a desk loaded with gadgets and gizmos that meant nothing to her.

Staring down to the alphabet she saw it was neatly printed out on A4 paper, then the pad of pages with endless blocks of four figures, and last, a note book with a page ripped out.

Standing there, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, because although she’d found it, she simply couldn’t understand why Robin Sheverill had wanted all this stuff.

What could he have used it for? It was all too much and would have fitted right in with NASA at Cape Canaveral.

Looking at the red phone, the obvious conclusion finally came to her.

Robin Sheverill had been seconded to Cardinal, and if his secondment had required him to have these gadgets and communications, it would explain why Cardinal had installed it, except, after his death, why hadn’t they taken it all away?

It was crazy, and although probably safe enough in this revolting place, any organisation in the world would give their eye teeth for this gateway into the Cardinal organisation, and Mike Tomlinson would probably arrange for Air Force One to come and collect it.

So if she got caught in this damned place, she would have signed her own death warrant.