Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (41 page)

Christiana turned the wooden carving, and pushing the door open, stepped into the sickly stench of the lower room, and fumbling for the light switch, became aware that spiders were already scuttling around her, but this time she knew the layout of the priest hole, and managed to hobble up the short flight of stairs before the spiders could climb her naked legs and disappear under her dressing gown.

The office looked just the same, but she was only interested in the pad, and checking it, saw a message had been sent, but maybe it was only a reply to the newly decoded message laying there in front of her.

Attn DC. IMPERATIVE NOTICE.

The deliverance of TARA GOODWIN is cancelled. Repeat, CANCELLED.

She is required on the yacht,
POLYVOTIS
at Hamble Marina, Southampton Water.

If possible, take her to Hamble today.
POLYVOTIS
is due to sail soon.

Confirm IMMEDIATELY.

Best wishes,

A.

Leaving the priest hole as she’d found it, she made her way out through the house, but halfway across the kitchen saw her silver tobacco tin, and knew that Lucinda had been smoking her cannabis.

Snatching it up, she slipped it into her pocket, now she would have to get by without it.

Stepping out onto the path, she saw Dmitri running to meet her, and scooping her up, carried her back to the car, ‘Tyres good, come quick, we here long time.’

‘Yes, I know, but I had to check something in that horrible room.’

He frowned, ‘What is this, horrible?’

She sighed into the crook of his neck. So how could anyone describe the smells and hideous sensations of death and repugnance that permeated through the priest hole?

‘Horrible? Well it’s worse than bad. Far, far worse than bad.’

Dmitri remembered Stalingrad, ‘Da. I know this horrible. I know it well.’

Christiana fell silent when she thought of his murdered wife and his sweet little children, and snuggling down against him, hoped the future might show some kindness for them.

Oh well, they could only try.

4
0

Samantha had spent her life in conspiracy, one way or another, and she’d been good, but now she was involved with a plan to trap Michaela Rattenegger, and all she knew was that it involved acts of sex being caught on camera while Michaela indulged herself with something she liked to do.

It didn’t sound like a good idea and she hoped Angela knew what she was doing, and hearing her talking on the phone, tiptoed along to listen at the study door.

‘But of course, Michaela, I promise you, she’s absolutely beautiful.’

‘Yes, a wonderful figure. Slim, with long legs and absolutely wonderful breasts.’

‘That’s right, and she has a special dance I just know will drive you wild.’

‘Yes, a dance, that’s why I called you. I know how much you adore the ballet.’

Angela chuckled, ‘But you’ll never, ever see a dance like this on stage, because, well, it’s positively obscene, or incredibly intoxicating, depending on one’s interest.’

‘Oh, I know. Yes, I know ... and believe me, this dance would be wonderful to watch, and especially while your little friend entertains you.’

‘Yes, this evening would be fine, and when you’ve finished, leave the debris to me and I’ll make the necessary arrangements.’

‘No, of course it isn’t a problem, after all, we girls must look after each other.’

‘No, a favour in return isn’t necessary, but if you’d like to, I’ll think of something.’

Walking back through to the kitchen, Angela smirked as she gazed to Samantha.

‘Well that’s done, and she’s agreed to spend the evening with you, isn’t it wonderful.’

Samantha stared blankly out through the window, ‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Now it’s important I brief you, we can’t afford any mistakes with this, but first I need to set things in motion, so give me two minutes and I’ll be right back.’

Collecting the security key from the study, she opened the strong room, placed a new DVD in the recorder and set the camera for voice activation, then returning to the study, picked up the red phone and called her office.

‘Louise, I want you to call Rossiter, and tell her there’ll be a final delivery tonight.’

‘Yes, here at the Bunker. But she can’t start work till after midnight.’

As Ted sat in forlorn despair in the office, the door opened and old Len shuffled in.

‘You didn’t find her then?’

Ted came out of his trance, ‘Find her? Does it look as if I’ve found her?’

Len looked down to the floor, ‘Well couldn’t we do something, call the police?’

‘For god’s sake, Len, don’t you think I would have done that hours ago if I could. Christ, I told you she’s hiding from the authorities, so don’t go stupid on me.’

‘Sorry. I forgot.’

‘So why should you feel sorry, I’m the stupid bastard who let her down.’

‘You didn’t mean to.’

‘Well of course I didn’t, but I should have known better.’

‘But can’t we do anything..? Ask someone to help?’

Ted sighed, ‘Len, I know it sounds simple, we just dial a special number and some muscle bound drongo comes bouncing in with his RPG launcher and kills all the bad guys, but that’s the movies, and this is real life.’

Later, as he was wondering how to break the news to Lewis, he heard a rush of tyres come over the forecourt and a squeal of brakes outside his office. Looking up, he saw the sleek shape of a bright red Ferrari Dino, and huddled inside was Christiana Levett.

Ted stared in disbelief.

He couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help than Chrissy.

She had the contacts and would know how to play the game, but as he stared, he realised something was wrong.

It was the tall foreigner driving, and Chrissy was looking at him through eyes of glass.

Climbing out, the tall man walked round to the passenger door, a grim expression on his face as he began lifting Christiana, carefully and gently out of the car, and before he could make sense of it all, the tall foreigner carried her inside, and Ted could hardly believe the state she was in.

He watched, confused, as the man sat down, and gently cradling her in his arms, talked softly to her in his broken English before looking up to Ted.

‘I lie you of car,’ he smiled down to Christiana, ‘here is reason.’

‘Yeah ... but what happened to her? And where did you find her?’

‘Sheverill Farm. They do it.’

As Ted tried to take it all in, he remembered Chrissy coming to visit him, and he’d let slip that Sheverill had been killed on Cardinal secondment, then Frank had turned up and he’d told him the same thing, so could Sheverill and the farm be the link to everything?

The two men stared each other in the eye, each knowing this was not the time for talk, things had to be done, and done pretty damned quick.

Working in silence, the men made Christiana as comfortable as possible, and while the tall man soothed her, Ted set the kettle to boil, and picking up the phone, called Danny, the retired Paramedic, and speaking quietly, saw Christiana watching him, her bruised lips saying,
thank you.

Cooling the coffee, Ted knelt beside her and let her sip till it was all gone.

Watching, Dmitri knew now that he could trust this man, and with the coffee finished, Christiana sighed, sank back into Dmitri’s arms and looked up to Ted.

‘Ted, this is my Dmitri, the one I love. He has trouble with words, but don’t be fooled, he understands just about everything we say.’

‘Right… Well Danny, the medical guy, should arrive at the cottage in half an hour. So this is what we do. I’ll hide your car behind the breakdown truck and cover it up, then we get down to the cottage and let Danny get to work.’

It wasn’t easy for Ted to pack Tara’s things, but Christiana needed the guestroom now, and by the time she hobbled from the bathroom, Danny arrived.

Danny was a clever man of fifty-two, slightly built, had intelligent eyes and wore his thin hair greased over his head, and now he stood on the doorstep with an older woman.

Looking at her, Ted stared questions to Danny, but he just gazed back calmly.

‘You said the patient was a woman.’

Frowning at the complication, Ted walked them inside and whispered in Danny’s ear.

‘Danny, this is a private job, so can you trust the old bag to keep her mouth shut?’

Danny whispered back, ‘Don’t worry, mother is very discreet.’

‘Right.’

It was quite a while before Danny and his mother came down to the lounge, and when he spoke, his calm, professional manner, now had a hard edge.

‘First of all, two things are quite obvious. One, the lady should be in hospital, and two, this should be in the hands of the police. But as you haven’t chosen that particular route, I would like to make it quite clear that we haven’t been here, and I shall deny everything. Understood?’

Ted nodded, ‘Okay, fair enough. So what’s the verdict?’

For a long moment, Danny glared, but then he shrugged and gave his clinical description.

‘The lady has been raped, but apart from that, there are obvious signs of physical abuse, if not to say, torture. She has received at least ten, hard fist blows to her back, and at least two to the face. There are cuts, abrasions and bruises. Scalding around the eyes and bite marks to her earlobes. Six or more blows to the chest and breast area, and damage to the toes by means of a pair of pliers, which according to the lady, was administered by a woman while a man carried out the rape.’

Ted and Dmitri looked at each other, both knowing what their intentions would be when they found these animals.

‘In conclusion, we have tended to the lady’s wounds as best we can and I’ve given her something to make her sleep until morning, and on this occasion, there’ll be no charge.’

Later, as Ted showed Dmitri around the cottage, he knew it was the time to be honest.

‘Dmitri. I have to go back to the garage now, but first you should know the truth. You see, this house is not secure anymore, a friend has been taken. I don’t know why, or even who did it, but if they haven’t got what they wanted, they might come back.’

‘So house, not good?’

‘No, it’s been blown.’

‘What is this, blown?’

Ted sighed, ‘Well it was a safe house for friends, but safe no more.’

Dmitri remembered Stalingrad, ‘Da, I know this blown, I know it well.’

Ted saw pain in his eyes, but then he turned away, ‘So I take Christiana, soon.’

‘But how? She’s in a bad way.’

‘I find how.’

‘Well, okay. But till then, are you armed?’

He nodded, and unzipping his jacket, took out the Colt .45.

‘Jesus. So who gave you that, Clint Eastwood?’

‘East Wood?’

‘No. Oh, never mind, he played a cowboy and shot half of America.’

‘Why?’

It was in the afternoon when Arthur drove up the lane, his wired-up jaw feeling painful, but now he was back, he could at least have some more fun with that American beauty.

But as they parked in the courtyard, they saw the BMW was gone, and where the Ferrari should have been was only his old foot pump.

Martha glared, ‘Those bloody joy-riders from the village have been here.’

Scowling, he walked over, and snatching up the pump, was about to angrily hurl it away when she nudged him and pointed to the workshop, and as he walked across the gravel, Martha silently made her way down the secluded path, but when she came to the kitchen, stopped when she saw the door standing wide open.

But ma’am would never have left the door open, not with the bitch chained to the bed, and stepping inside, she picked up the heavy butcher knife, and listening for any sound, set off to search the rooms.

Arthur checked the workshop but it looked normal, and putting the pump down, went over to the metal cupboard. Taking the key from behind a jar, he opened the door and took out his shotgun, and slipping a cartridge into the chamber, went off to check the grounds. He hadn’t gone far before a bellow of rage erupted from far up in the old house.

Quickly climbing the stairs, he stepped into Lucinda’s bedroom and saw Martha staring at the empty bed, and when she swung round, there was panic showing clearly in her eyes.

‘Oh my god, come and see this. Ma’am must have got herself drunk again last night and dressed up all fancy in her cowboy clothes. But she must have fallen asleep on the bed, 'cos that damned bitch has taken the keys from her gun belt and got clean away, but she’ll blame us for not being here, and we’ll end up in that bloody hospital again.’

It was well after five-thirty when Lucinda drove her car, furiously into the courtyard.

‘A yacht? Jesus, that was no yacht.
Polyvotis
was a floating bloody hotel.’

And then her eyes narrowed when she saw the empty space where the Ferrari should be, but soon relaxed when she noticed that the Land Rover was back.

So dopey Arthur must have put the car in the garage.

She tried to calm down. She’d been just too busy lately, and that was the whole trouble, but did anyone worry about her health? No, they bloody well didn’t, and did they care that she’d been chasing all over the damned countryside, checking out Thornley Manor, tracking down that deceitful Chrissy, and having to chauffeur the little Goodwin whore to her vacation on a floating hotel, and now, when all she wanted was to just relax and kill Christiana in peace and quiet, she now had to code and send a frigging message to Angela.

‘Ahhhhh …’

Martha jumped and looked up startled when the kitchen door was suddenly burst open, her face turning white as Lucinda stormed inside and threw her bag across the room.

‘Oh. So you’ve decided to come home and do some bloody housework, have you?’

Martha cringed. Ma’am was alone. So she hadn’t found Miss Chrissy.

‘Yes ma’am. So you didn’t find her then.’

‘Find who, for god’s sake.’

‘Well, Miss Chrissy, ma’am, ‘cos she was gone when we got home.’

Lucinda froze, and after a moment, began to blink in time with the opening and closing of her mouth, and rushing across the kitchen, dashed wildly along the hall and up the long gloomy stairs, and in the heavy stillness, came the longest withering scream.

She stared at the bed, totally immaculate again and all freshly made-up with clean sheets, and there was no sign of any mess at all in the bedroom.

But what broke her heart, was there were no handcuffs, no chains, and no Chrissy.

Hot tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her darling Christiana had run away again. She’d run away from the only one who truly loved her. She’d run away from the one who wanted to kill her and keep her safe forever, deep within the priest hole.

‘Oh Chrissy. How could you be so cruel?’

Martha, having put all the knives away, was now standing wide-eyed and trembling as she watched Lucinda march across the kitchen to stand directly in front of her.