Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (35 page)

Running to the terrace, she dashed through the French windows and snatched up the camcorder, and quickly making her way to the priest hole, took the can of Mace, and rushing to her bedroom, smiled … Oh lord, this was just so incredibly exciting!

Arthur stepped onto the hidden path, and walking silently along to the summerhouse, peered through the window, but Christiana was nowhere to be seen.

Looking up from the rose garden, Christiana saw Arthur peering through the window, and moving silently up behind him, whispered in his ear.

‘And what the hell are you doing, you dirty old man.’

Arthur jumped, ‘Ugh.’

She looked him hard in the eyes, ‘Well? So what are you up to?’

He took a step back, ‘It’s ma’am, she wants to see you, I’m to take you to her.’

She puzzled at his choice of words, ‘Take me?’

‘Yeah, that’s what she said.’

‘Arthur, I’m a big girl now, no-one takes me anywhere.’

‘But that’s what she said, we’ve both got to go to her bedroom.’

Memories suddenly came swirling back of that disgusting scene in Lucinda’s bedroom.

‘Her bedroom? Both of us?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh really. So why didn’t she send Martha to find me, she usually does.’

‘I don’t know, maybe she’s busy cooking.’

‘Yeah, maybe. Well let’s go and see if you’re telling the truth.’

Walking up to the house, alarm bells started to ring, because although Lucinda was crazy she’d never tried giving her orders before, and certainly not through this hideous old man, so something was different, things had changed, she could feel it, but what did it mean?

As Arthur marched on she realised the whole atmosphere had changed, but why, and when the old house came into view, a dark thought began to wriggle through her mind, remembering that it was only yesterday she’d been inside Lucinda’s revolting priest hole.

Thinking back through every tiny detail, she remembered Martha opening the door, then the darkness, that smell and the spiders, and having found the light switch she’d climbed the stairs and found the hi-tech office with the pad and alphabet, and having copied them she’d waited impatiently for Martha, and when the door had been pulled open, she’d put out the light and raced down the stairs … But wait, something was missing …

Oh my god, the photocopier, she couldn’t remember switching it off.

With her thoughts jumping, she followed Arthur along the crazy paving pathway, but when they came to the kitchen there wasn’t a sound from within.

Standing back, he waved her through, but she hesitated.

She had a lousy feeling about this, and wondered if she could be walking into bad news.

Arthur brushed against her bottom, ‘Well, go on then.’

‘Alright, back off.’

Pushing the door open, she walked inside, but the kitchen seemed empty, then Arthur rubbed his crotch against her, ‘Up you go then. Up to the bedroom.’

Turning, she saw the glint in his eyes, ‘So what’s the rush?’

He looked down to her breasts, ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

In that moment she knew it had all gone wrong, but a groan came from the far end of the kitchen, and peering round the edge of the door, saw Martha laying slumped in the corner, but her left arm was pointing straight up, and held there by the huge butcher’s knife.

‘Jesus Christ …’

Walking quickly across, she took firm hold of the handle, and yanking out the blade, swung round to Arthur, ‘Well don’t just stand there, do something.’

‘She’ll be okay, it’s not the first time. So come on, get upstairs.’

Looking away in disgust, she began wrapping a clean towel around Martha’s hand.

‘You sure are some kind of a bastard, she’s your sister for god’s sake.’

Martha suddenly came more awake, and scrabbling to her feet, held her hand, and as she crouched over in pain, glared up venomously into Christiana’s eyes.

‘It’s not his fault, you stupid bitch, it’s yours ‘cos you went snooping in the hole, and now my lady knows of it, she don’t love you no more, not even one tiny little bit, so what do you think of that then, little miss big tits?’

Christiana stood back on her heels, her thoughts racing wildly.

Everything had seemed normal just an hour ago, so is that how long Lucinda might have known about the priest hole? And now, having had an hour to think and make her plans, she’d sent the revolting Arthur to bring her up to her bedroom.

No way, my fine assassin, the time to get the hell out of here had just arrived.

But the keys for her car were in her purse, up in the bedroom, and as she wouldn’t get far on foot, she would have to immobilise Arthur and deal with Lucinda when she got there.

‘Alright. Come on. Let’s go.’

Climbing the long stairs, she’d decided to take Arthur out on the landing, but she felt his hand on her bottom, and when his fingers slid between her legs, it was just too much.

Without thinking of it she was back in the Dojo where she’d spent so many happy years perfecting her beloved Shotokan Karate.

She swung round, and in a split second, delivered to him the destruction of Enpi Uchi.

The elbow strike up under his chin had been delivered with the perfection and focus of perfect kime, the blow, the focus, the timing and the target all coming together in one pure shattering moment of the most peaceful and controlled violence.

Arthur’s head shot up with the force of the blow, his mouth crashing shut to break his teeth and jaw, and falling back, he tumbled unconscious into Martha, and the two of them rolled in a tangle all the way down the long staircase.

Christiana cursed, and watching them fall down the stairs, heard the door to Lucinda’s bedroom being snatched open, and there she was.

‘Hello bitch. So you’ve come to see me have you? Come for more diaries?’

Christiana stared wide eyed, the sight of her totally bizarre as she stood dressed as a sexy version of a cowgirl, with long shiny black boots and jangling spurs, then white stockings, suspenders and tiny white knickers, around her hips a beautiful black leather gun belt with a pearl handled Colt .45 in the holster, and a tiny white laced bra that lifted her full breasts in a balcony platform, and a chic, creamy white cowboy hat that allowed her cascading coal black hair to fall and swirl in glistening waves around her softly tanned shoulders.

Christiana watched as she moved along the landing towards her, the tall boots clicking, the spurs jangling, hips swinging, her smile beguiling, but it was her intense dark eyes that told the story as they held the uncaring, dull cold shine of death.

Coming closer, Lucinda raised the can of Mace in her left hand, and when Christiana recognised the markings, she began to back away down the stairs, but Lucinda moved quickly and ran with the small can held outstretched towards her.

Reacting without thinking, Christiana pulled her T shirt up to cover her nose and mouth, and turning, ran back down the stairs with Lucinda screaming in a fury. Glancing back, Christiana saw her draw the Colt .45, and when she fired, there came a thunderous sound as the banister, just inches from her hand, flew into shards of splintered wood.

Leaping over Arthur’s body, she saw Martha rush to the kitchen, and as the thundering sound came again, a beautiful vase next to her head, suddenly exploded in a million fragments. Dashing to the kitchen, she saw Martha blocking the doorway to the gardens.

Skidding to a halt, she looked more closely, and saw in her right hand, the same knife that had impaled her to the worktop, and knew this crazy woman would use it.

Slamming the hall door shut, she grabbed a chair and jammed the high back under the handle, and turning back to Martha, moved from one foot to the other and let her hands hang loose in a shaking dance.

Lucinda pounded on the door as Christiana advanced towards Martha, and in a lightning strike, delivered yoko geri keage, the side snap kick to Martha, full across the throat, the force lifting her up and out through the door.

Standing back, Lucinda fired the heavy revolver through the kitchen door until every chamber was empty, but Christiana was already racing headlong along the pathway, and crossing the courtyard, dashed past the Ferrari, and with her chest bursting, ran for the cover of the woods, but although now well clear of the farm, which way should she run?

34

Her breakfast finished, Felicity sat quietly in thought at the kitchen table, and as usual, she’d eaten alone.

Absentmindedly sipping her coffee, she heard the front door being roughly closed as Dmitri went off wandering for the day.

Looking out through the window to the late summer flowers, she had the strangest feeling she’d lost control of everything around her, but then again, if she were honest, didn’t she know why?

Of course she did, it was the arrival of that bitch, the American agent from the CIA.

She’d rekindled an old flame within him and he was now openly defying her with a new confidence, as if a purpose had entered his life.

As she wondered how she might bring everything back under control, she heard the cheery whistle of the postman as he walked to the front door, and going through to the hallway, saw a small white envelope being pushed through the flap of the letterbox.

She watched through cold eyes as it fell silently to the floor, and it was strange, she already knew who it would be addressed to.

Walking up the hall, she stooped forward and snatched up the envelope, but stood quietly in thought before returning to the kitchen, and when she looked, all her fears came true.

The delicate hand of a woman had indeed addressed the letter, her eyes narrowing as she thought of that bulging red T shirt, and those clinging, tight yellow leggings, but although the envelope was addressed to Dmitri, it was thin and carried no letter, and holding it up to the light, all she saw inside was just one word. VALKERIE.

When the Counter Intelligence Corps finally left Thornley Manor, Sergeant Jenkins felt ten years older, and now he had to tell Mrs A, that over two hours ago, Montague had read a top secret file and then disappeared.

Angela picked up the red phone, and having listened in silence, slammed it down.

Samantha, winced, ‘Problem, ma’am?’

Angela swung round, ‘Yes, and that could be the understatement of the year, because I’ve just been informed, that over two hours ago, that bastard Montague went into Leonardo, read that damned file and vanished.’

Samantha stayed silent.

‘And Jenkins couldn’t tell me because he was under arrest by the CIC, and that was probably arranged by Montague. So it’s pretty obvious he’s been scheming against me all the time, and probably working for that other bastard, Glenndenning.’

Samantha, knew, that right now, whatever she said would be jumped on by Angela.

‘So call in every operative that’s not on essential duties and circulate Montague’s file, with his address, habits, contacts, relationships and anything else you can think of.’

Samantha opened her notebook, ‘Yes ma’am, and do we alert the authorities?’

Angela glared at her, ‘Samantha, this is not the time to go stupid on me.’

‘No ma’am. I was only thinking of the channel crossings and airports.’

‘Oh yes, I see what you mean. But leave that to me, I don’t want the plod or the spook agencies involved, so I’ll arrange something with the anti-terrorist squad.’

‘Okay. Anything else?’

‘Yes, find Frank Lewis and tell him to get back here, he’s got a lot of explaining to do.’

‘Right. So is that it?’

‘No. Alert DC to Montague and say she’ll have immediate action on confirmation, then find out who the hell swiped him into Leonardo.’

Samantha wrote it all down, her thoughts churning.

There had always been rumours that Angela’s private assassin was the stuff of nightmares, and now she’d just confirmed that her angel of death was a woman.

The atmosphere was sombre as Frank and Evelyn sat side by side on the steps with both of them lost in their own private thoughts, and for him it was a time of reckoning.

So how did things stack up now?

Well the private ambulance had indeed carried Monty safely away and Eddie and the CIC would have already disappeared into the shadows, but he had to stay low for long enough to give Monty time to get out of the country.

He smiled, well at least he wouldn’t need a passport to run to Moon Shadow, and later, when everything had calmed down, Evelyn could run him over to the tavern, and if Tara had been collected he could take his car and find somewhere to hide it.

Nudging Evelyn out of her thoughts, they went up to her apartment for coffee, but she seemed miles away, so he walked her away from the bugs and out onto the balcony.

‘Alright, spit it out. So what’s bothering you?’

Leaning against the balustrade, she avoided his eyes and looked down to her nails.

‘Well I’m worried about Mr Montague. He’s in serious trouble now, isn’t he, for reading that Pale 1 file.’

‘Yeah, I reckon so. But don’t worry, he’ll be okay.’

‘Well that’s fine for him, but what about me, I swiped him into Leonardo.’

‘That’s right. And it’s not like Monty to put someone in danger, and to be honest, he didn’t even tell me he was going to do it, so I reckon that file must be pretty important.’

Evelyn shivered at the unknown, ‘So what will happen to me now?’

‘Don’t worry, you didn’t know he was going to do it either and you’re not on camera, and anyway, as I said, you’re going to be a Cardinal puppet, so just keep your mouth shut and jump when they pull your strings and you’ll be fine.’

She glanced up, ‘Really? You’re quite sure?’

He looked away, ‘Yeah. Why not.’

Tara felt the tension as Sammy drove his old V8 Rover away from the Sergeant’s tavern, but later, as they settled into the journey, the men relaxed a little and Sammy became his usual brash and irreverent self.

After a while she found herself smiling at his ruthless jokes, while Ted checked the traffic, side roads, junctions and temporary traffic lights, and was always alert for two riders on a super bike, squirting a magazine of 9mm through the car window.

But Sammy was good at his job and had chosen a convoluted route, so hopefully there shouldn’t be any nasty surprises.

Gradually the tension eased and Tara became more relaxed with the two men, and though their gaze was everywhere, they were both trying to be friendly, and coming to a junction, Sammy slowed down and steered into a parking area.

‘What’s wrong, Sammy?’

Grinning, he pointed to a roadside caravan café parked way over on the grassy bank.

‘Nothing, but my belly thinks my throat’s cut, I’m starving and it’s time for some grub.’

‘Okay. Ten minutes, and stay sharp.’

Sammy bought huge bacon and egg rolls along with cups of strong dark coffee, and standing amongst the truck drivers, travellers, delivery men and sales reps, they drank their coffee and munched the hot and juicy bacon and egg rolls.

‘Hey, Sammy, this is good tucker.’

He grinned, ‘It has to be. Truckers work all hours and they sure like their grub, so if it ain’t no good, they don’t come back.’

Glancing around, Tara thought some of the men looked quite rough, but it was a shame they could be misunderstood, because they were really quite friendly, and although crude at times, they were often hilarious.

Standing there, she realised she knew very little of anything ... only how to please men, but even that wasn’t true. The men she’d pleased, weren’t men at all.

The real men of the world were standing right here, enjoying their tucker.

Christiana ran deep into the woods and took care not to break any branches or leave an obvious trail, and although it was fairly easy to stay away from the roads, she didn’t expect Lucinda to use her car, but come on horseback.

After a while she climbed a tree and sat in the high branches to look and listen, but apart from bird song there wasn’t a sound to be heard.

Looking back towards the old farmhouse she took a moment to do some hard thinking.

Lucinda would obviously try to kill her as soon as she got the chance, but she had two injured people to deal with, and time was also against her as she was committed to the Goodwin target, and that was arranged for today.

So her advantage was time, and as she only intended to get to Ted Willis at Malmesbury she could afford to be careful and not to rush, so things weren’t so bad after all.

Not being able to get through the kitchen door, Lucinda had run to the lounge, then out through the French windows and around the house to the kitchen, but stopped when she saw Martha laying on the path, and there was no sound or movement anywhere.

Running round to the courtyard she checked the Ferrari, and it was still there and locked, so the bitch must have run away and would be long gone by now.

Walking back, she glared down to the prostrate figure of Martha laying on the path, and placing one foot on her damaged hand, kicked her hard in the ribs with the other.

‘You let the bitch get away, you useless old cow.’

Storming into the kitchen she filled a bowl with cold water, and carrying it out, threw it full into Martha’s face.

Waking up in confusion, she coughed, her breath rattling in her damaged throat.

‘Get up, you old whore, and for god’s sake try to do something useful for a change.’

Throwing the bowl across the garden she went back to the kitchen and saw Christiana’s silver tobacco tin on the table, and glaring, snatched it up.

‘You’re going to die, Christiana. You’re going to die because I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you with my own two hands and watch you die horribly as I snuff out your pretty little life.’

Tottering into the kitchen, Martha’s clothes stank from the blood, her bruised jaw hanging open with the pain as she struggled to catch her breath.

‘Jesus Christ, what on earth do you look like? My god, you and your idiot brother make a good double act, and you’re both about as useful as an outbreak of the shits, now go and wake him up, and tell him to saddle my horse, right now.’

Holding onto the furniture, Martha made her way painfully across to the hall door, but as she lifted the chair away from the handle, stopped dead in her tracks as that tune from the old Swiss clock suddenly floated out across the kitchen, and looking round, saw the little wooden figures rotating around and around as they foretold of another message waiting in the gloomy priest hole.

Lucinda became rigid, and looking up, felt her skin prickle, her eyes staring into space. Spreading her feet apart, she drew the Colt .45, and holding it in both hands, took aim at the clock, but when she pulled the trigger there came the heavy metallic click of the hammer falling onto an empty shell case, and she realised she’d fired every round.

‘You lousy bastards, why can’t you leave me alone. I haven’t done anything to you, so why do you keep sending me out to kill people, it just isn’t fair.’

Frank and Evelyn swiped out of the house and walked round to collect her car, and climbing into the Pontiac, drove up to the red and white barriers at the lodge, but this time, instead of being allowed straight through, the guard waved them down.

He looked at Frank, ‘Excuse me, sir, but Sergeant Jenkins would like a word with you.’

As the guard spoke into his lapel radio, the gatehouse door swung open and the sergeant stepped out onto the veranda, his expression hostile.

Frank sighed, and getting out of the car, walked over, ‘Okay, so what’s the problem?’

The sergeant looked at him as if he wished he and Montague were dead and gone.

‘Well, sir, as you may know, we’ve had more trouble in the high security wing and Mrs A wants to see you at the cottage immediately, and to tell you the truth, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest if you never came back. No offence, of course.’

‘Okay, you’ve given the message, now why don’t you fuck off and tell her all about it.’

When Frank clambered angrily into the sports car, Evelyn knew something serious had happened, but giving him a questioning look, he only gazed out through the windscreen.

He could imagine well enough why Angela wanted to see him so urgently, and she’d probably gone totally ballistic when she heard of Monty reading that damned file, so now it was all down to damage limitation.

‘Evelyn, the shit’s hit the fan and we’ve got to get our story straight, so listen carefully. On Monty’s orders, you swiped him and myself into Leonardo, but he went into that room alone, okay?’

‘Well that’s fine with me, but what were we doing all that time, there’s nothing in there except those four locked rooms.’

‘Good thinking, and I can hardly say I went into the master passage.’

‘No, and I can’t say I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for both of you.’

‘I guess not, but we’ve got to agree on something, and something believable.’

‘Well how about this. Mr Montague wanted to check something in the room, but I was feeling jittery after everything, so you took me down to the cubicles to comfort me, and one thing led to another, if you see what I mean.’

‘But that’s a brilliant idea … It’s just about the only answer Angela would believe, and it’s perfect because no-one can prove otherwise. So let’s stick to that.’