Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (44 page)

43

It was a bright morning when Angela drove away from Squirrels Country Club, and making her way back to the Bunker, thought how well an evening spent there could recharge the batteries, the food, pampering, Jacuzzi and the massage, and not forgetting the personal services rendered by Mario which as usual had been worth every penny.

Arriving at the gates of her security lodge, she questioned the guard about last night and everything seemed to have gone according to plan, but later when she drove over the old stone bridge, she sat quietly for a while before glancing to the cottage.

What had happened here last night had been a filthy desecration of her sanctuary, but if that disgusting Michaela had been successfully trapped on DVD, she might just be able to convince herself that it was all worth it.

Stepping inside, she felt safe again, and setting the percolator, stared thoughtfully out through the kitchen window, but quite suddenly she shivered when her imagination began to play tricks on her.

In the pane of glass she saw a ghostly reflection, and it was quite horrible, because it was the ghost of Samantha.

Shutting her eyes tight, she looked again, but she was still there in the pane of glass, and when she moved, Angela jumped and swung round, her breath catching in her throat when she saw it wasn’t her imagination after all, it really was Samantha, just staring at her, and wearing nothing more than stockings, suspenders and sad broken wings.

Angela stepped back, ‘So what the hell are you doing here?’

Samantha just stood there, staring, her eyes empty, dull, blank and lifeless.

‘Well? Speak, damn you.’

But there was nothing, no recognition, no movement, no life, no soul or anything at all, and where there had once been Samantha, was now just an empty shell.

With her skin prickling, Angela took her by the arm and guided her to the lounge, and sitting her down, backed away through the doorway, and slamming the door, turned the key in the lock, and sweating, sagged back against the wall.

Her mind spinning, she took the security key and opened the strong room, and checking the control panel, sighed with relief when everything seemed to have worked, and if Michaela had been caught on film, killing her junkie friend, she had still won the game.

But how did Samantha escape? And what the hell was she going to do with her?

Picking up the red phone she called her office in Oxford, and then a bright cheery voice came on the line.

‘Hello, Bursary records, how can I help?’

Angela’s nerves were shredded, ‘So who the hell is that? Who’s speaking?’

Louise frowned, ‘Well it’s me, ma’am, Louise. Is something wrong?’

‘Yes, there bloody-well is. I had a wonderful time last night, but now it’s all spoilt because I’ve come home to find the damned cottage has turned into toy town.’

‘Oh dear. So can I help with anything?’

‘Yes, you can. First call the Church Warden and ask how many clients she had last night, then phone the clinic and tell our two specialists to get down here in a private ambulance because I want someone sectioned under the mental health act.’

‘Yes ma’am, but when you say, sectioned, do you mean temporarily, for reports?’

‘No, I don’t. It will be indefinite, with a minimum of twenty years.’

Louise recoiled back, ‘Ouch. So who, exactly, are we talking about?’

‘Who? Well who the hell do you think? It’s Samantha.’

Louise felt a wave of incredulity sweeping over her, ‘But ma’am, why Samantha?’

‘Why? Now you listen to me, I’m not doing this for bloody fun you know, I’m doing it because she’s gone juju, the lights are on but no-one’s home, the box is empty.’

‘But how did it happen?’

‘Well how the fuck do I know? I came home and found her wandering around like a zombie, so have you got any idea how dangerous it would be, if some clever bastard woke her up and cleaned out her mind? Well, have you?’

‘Yes, I do understand, but it seems such a shame, she’ll be old when she gets out.’

‘Louise, don’t go soft on me, or have you conveniently forgotten Valhalla.’

Frank awoke in the guest suite at Thornley and it took a moment to realise where he was, but when Samantha came back into his mind he quickly got dressed and called for a car.

Arriving at Angela’s security lodge, Frank’s car was directed to wait in the parking area, and he wondered why, but later when a private ambulance cruised up the long avenue and was waved straight out through the gates, he realised Angela must have pulled out all the stops to get the job done quickly.

But at least Cardinal had its own clinic, so Samantha should receive the best of care.

Carrying on to the cottage, he stepped inside the kitchen and Angela glared at his clothes.

‘And what the hell have you been up to?’

He looked down to his boots, grubby trousers and the shirt with the sleeves missing.

‘Well I got a bit rat-arsed last night, if you see what I mean.’

She glowered, ‘No, I don’t. Oh, go and have a bath, you look like a tramp.’

As he climbed the stairs he heard the phone ring, and Angela padding through.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, it’s Louise, I checked with the Church Warden and she had one client last night.’

‘I see. Oh well, I suppose that’s better than nothing.’

She had hardly put the phone down when it rang again.

‘Oh, it’s you, Michaela. Yes, yes indeed. But actually, I was just about to call you. So how did your evening go? Did you have a nice time?’

‘Really? Well I’m sorry to hear that, but I did wonder …’

‘Yes. When I got home this morning, she was still here.’

‘Ran into the woods? But I don’t understand.’

‘Oh you poor thing. Well I suppose it was a disappointment.’

‘Yes, I know. Oh, I know. I know…’

‘But actually, that isn’t the only thing she messed up last night, because when she set the circuit breakers for the stage lights, she somehow managed to activate the security cameras in the lounge, so everything that happened was recorded.’

A deafening silence came on the line, and soon followed by a tirade of filthy swearing.

‘Well of course I realise the danger, and you’re quite right, it is fucking appalling.’

‘Yes, I know it’s dangerous. It’s extremely dangerous. Well it is for you …’

‘Of course you can have the recording. But I was thinking of that favour you owe me, and it might be useful if I knew how to contact the gateway to the Forty.’

‘Yes I know it’s for your eyes only, but you see, if I knew how to contact the gateway and you ever became indisposed, then the Continuum, could continue, couldn’t it.’

‘Well you can have the DVD today, providing of course, that I have the details first.’

There was a pause, and when the details were spat out, Angela could hardly believe it, and never would she have guessed who the gateway to the Forty, really was.

Sir Henry Talbot, the Executive Advisor to Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service.

My god, the Forty were everywhere, and the gateway to them was right at the top, but now she had his name and number she could make direct contact, and by keeping the original of the recording, could dispose of Michaela once and for all, so it would do no harm to alert DC to a possible target. Sitting down, she took out the pad and alphabet, and with the greatest of pleasure, wrote out a directive.

Attn DC.

Be aware of possible impending target.

Target name, Michaela Rattenegger.

Location and haunts as yet unknown.

Immediate Action required on confirmation.

Best wishes,

A.

Frank found Angela sitting by the stream. ‘So there you are, I wondered where you were.’

She looked up, her expression half awake, ‘I needed some quiet time. You see, I’ve arranged to meet someone very important, and it has to go perfectly.’

‘Right. So does that mean you’ll be out again tonight?’

‘I’m afraid so, but do you mind being here on your own?’

‘No, not at all. But where’s Samantha, I haven’t seen her today.’

Angela shivered, ‘She’s gone away. It seems she has a problem with her marriage, so I’ve given her extended leave to get it sorted out.’

Waving Angela goodbye, he wondered how the Church Warden managed to disappear last night, and he was sure he’d seen a hunched figure disappearing into the doorway of one of those derelict outbuildings.

Walking back up to the cottage, he remembered that when he’d seen the shadowy figure, a spiky branch had almost taken his eye out, and looking around, saw a patch of crushed grass, and standing there, found that his eye lined up perfectly to a spiky branch.

Looking across to the derelict buildings, the only doorway he could clearly see was the one that led into the old workshop.

Walking over, he stepped inside and saw footprints on the dusty flagstones, but they could be his when he’d tried to check it out last night, but as he walked further into the workshop there were much smaller prints leading away to the far wall.

Following them, they stopped in front of a large flagstone with dust scuffed up all around and he wondered if it could be a trapdoor, but if it was, he could see no way of lifting it.

Looking more carefully, he saw that although everything had been left to decay, the chain hanging down the wall was covered with a thick slimy grease, and kicking away a dirty old sack, saw the chain disappeared down through one hole in the floor and came up through another. Pulling on the chain, the flagstone silently rose up to stand on its edge, and looking down, saw handholds disappearing away into the stale musty darkness.

As Angela settled herself in the suite at Squirrels, she knew this coming evening would not only decide her future with Cardinal, but also with the Matrix Forty, and if her plan worked, Sir Henry might also become redundant along with Micheala.

Checking into his suite, Sir Henry felt curiously nervous, because somehow, the Director General of Cardinal had found a way to persuade Michaela to divulge his identity, and that was a worry, but even worse, she’d said a situation had developed that had the potential to bring the organisation down.

So he had reluctantly taken her advice and travelled incognito by train and taxi to meet her at her private country club, and now he could only wonder where this might lead to.

Answering the light tap on the door, Angela was inwardly surprised to see that this man, Sir Henry, was not at all as she’d imagined him.

He had no air of arrogance or any commanding gaze of superiority, he was quiet and studious, his eyes sparkling with intelligence while his demeanour was almost apologetic.

‘Sir Henry, how very nice to meet you at last.’

She thought he seemed ill at ease, and almost resentful and quietly upset.

‘And you, also, dear lady, although I must say this meeting seems most irregular.’

Angela smiled, ‘Yes, it might seem so, but if you’d like to come in, I’ll explain.’

Closing the door, she realised that Michaela had bound him quite close to her.

‘So would you like a drink, Sir Henry, or shall we cut to the chase.’

‘I think that might be better, and to be honest, I’m not sure I should be here at all.’

‘Oh? And why’s that?’

‘Well, if the truth be told, I’m sorry to say, she thinks you’re becoming a danger.’

‘She?’

Furrows wrinkled his brow, ‘Well, Michaela, of course, who else?’

She frowned, ‘Well that’s odd. You see, she said the same to me, about you.’

He looked startled, ‘Me? But that’s ridiculous. Why would she say that?’

Angela walked over to the drinks trolley, ‘She said you’ve been talking to journalists.’

He flustered, ‘But for goodness sake, it was only a briefing.’

‘Yes, I know, but you didn’t clear it with her.’

‘Clear it with her? But why on earth should I do that?’

‘Because she’s worried she’s becoming irrelevant, that’s why she clings on to power, by telling the Forty, people like us need constant surveillance and guidance.’

‘Guidance, but that’s preposterous. You solved the puzzle at Thornley, single handed, and found out what no-one was ever meant to know, that the architect was Glenndenning.’

Angela sighed, ‘Yes, but what good did it do? Michaela has blocked any remedial action, and as I wasn’t allowed access to you, the Forty remains totally oblivious of the danger while that lunatic continues to play her sordid, if not disgustingly worrying games.’

He sat down, ‘Yes, I know. You see, after your call, I confronted her with your evidence and she admitted everything, even the name of the supplier of those poor wretched girls.’

Angela sat down opposite, ‘Really? So who is it?’