Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (45 page)

‘The very same person. Glenndenning.’

Angela took a long deep breath as everything fell into place and finally made sense.

Glenndenning was supplying Michaela with junkies for her snuff games, and in return, she was giving him protection for the file violation at Thornley Manor.

‘But, Sir Henry, if they are protecting each other, then where the hell does that leave us, because if the Forty are not allowed to know of the danger, those two will simply carry on, and if it ever reaches the media, there’s bound to be all hell to pay.’

‘Yes, I realise that now. Organised murder is a desperately ugly business.’

She stared at him in bewilderment, ‘But it’s a thousand times worse than that!’

‘Is it?’

‘Well of course. And if this gets picked up by the media, the general public will demand answers from all the politicians from here to eternity, and if that finally exposes the Forty, it will surely bring the organisation to its knees.’

‘Oh my god. Is it really that bad?’

Switching on the television, she collected her bag, and taking out the DVD, inserted it into the player.

Sir Henry watched in silence, his eyes boggling, and when the young woman slithered out lifeless from between Michaela’s enormous thighs, he staggered to his feet, shaking.

‘That’s enough … For god’s sake switch the damned thing off.’

As she did so, he paced frantically and nervously up and down the room.

‘It’s beyond imagination, how could anyone be so vile, but she’ll get caught one day, and, oh my god, when she does, we’ll all go down with her. And what about my position, what about the family, Lydia and the girls, we’ll all be ruined by the shame of it.’

Angela resisted a smile, ‘But, Sir Henry, it needn’t go that far.’

‘What do you mean? Hasn’t it gone far enough already?’

‘Well of course it has, but we can stop it before any damage comes our way.’

He stood bright eyed, his hands slightly fluttering, ‘But how?’

‘Well it’s quite easy really. You are the gateway to the Forty, so just tell them.’

He stared at her, ‘It’s impossible, they’ll think I’ve gone mad, they’ll never believe me.’

Angela smiled, ‘But we’re together now, and I’ll be beside you every step of the way.’

‘Oh yes, I nearly forgot, you can confirm it with that hideous evidence. Oh, thank god.’

He stopped to think.

‘So, I shall send a communication to each member of the Forty, except Glenndenning, of course, and tell them everything, and then I’ll be safe again. Yes, I shall do it.’

She smiled, ‘And when you send the communication, it might be wise if we recommend the conspirators be cleansed without delay.’

A furrow passed over his sweating brow as he suddenly realised their deaths would be a necessary requirement, but better that than his reputation.

‘Yes, I suppose it would be safer, and we should have their decision within eight hours.’

Angela sat up, ‘Eight hours? As soon as that?’

‘Yes, of course. A triple A communication does require a response within that time, so I’ll attend to it as soon as I return to my office.’

‘Not until then? That’s a shame, I was hoping to organise their cleansing in the morning.’

‘Oh, I see. Well I suppose it could be done now, I carry the equipment at all times.’

‘That would be excellent. So do it right away, before it all blows up in our faces.’

Collecting his case, he flipped it open, but then stopped when he remembered Michaela saying that Angela’s allegations were all wrong because she wasn’t so stupid to have made any snuff movies.

So how did the Director General of Cardinal, obtain the DVD. And what was her game?

Frank searched the cupboards but there was no torch, then the phone rang in the study.

‘Hello.’

‘Good afternoon, sir, this is lodge security, and would that be Mr Lewis?’

‘That’s right. So what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, sir. It’s just that there’s a postcard for you, it was sent to Thornley Manor and they’ve brought it across to us. So shall I bring it to the cottage?’

‘A postcard? So who’s it from?’

‘It doesn’t say, but the postmark is Montgomery, and that’s in Wales, isn’t it.’

Frank thought,
‘Yeah, but Monty wouldn’t have sent it from there.’

‘Okay, bring it down. Oh, and bring a torch, there’s noises in the attic, it’s probably just birds but I might as well check it out.’

Taking his cigarettes and lighter, he wandered down to sit on the old stone bridge, and wondered why Monty had taken the chance of using the old re-routing house in Wales, but whatever it was, it had to be important because it was only sheer luck that Angela was away this evening.

Oh well, he would find out soon enough, because kicking up the dust was a Land Rover.

‘Here we are, sir, one postcard and one torch. So will you need a hand in the attic?’

‘No thanks, I can manage.’

Lighting a cigarette, he watched the Land Rover lurch away back down the rutted track, but as he read the postcard, his expression turned grim.

Dear Frank, you probably think I’ve gone silly, but you already know that, don’t you. Anyway, we’ve got visitors and mother says it isn’t right, just arriving from everywhere, and especially as our old acquaintance, Glen, seems to be arranging a party on his boat. Just thought you ought to know. So when you’re free, give me a call.

44

Sir Henry knew his life would change forever when he showed Angela how to contact the Forty, but what choice did he have?

Resigning himself to what was now inevitable, he unplugged the phone line from the wall socket, and placing a black box beside his laptop, plugged one lead into the computer and the other into the phone wall socket.

Angela pointed to the box, ‘So what’s that?’

‘Oh, it’s a clever little item the boffins dreamt up, and to be honest, I don’t understand the technology, but I’m told it’s an external hard drive coupled to a telecommunications digital scrambler and acts in a similar way to the old Enigma.’

‘Good lord. So how does it work?’

‘Well it’s quite simple actually, it’s specifically designed to send messages to the Forty, so one simply opens a new document in the word processor, then type the message, save it, go to file, select print, then insert the number of copies and transmit.’

‘Print? But there’s no printer.’

‘Sorry, I should have explained. You see, this laptop has been modified, with the printer facility erased and replaced with an automatic dialling system.’

‘Good grief, the boffins have been busy. So are the phone numbers of the Forty all stored on the hard drive? That seems dangerous.’

‘Yes, and it would be, which is why I must use the external scrambler drive, and it can’t be activated till the correct code has been selected in the printer’s number box, then by hitting the OK button, the scrambler automatically dials out to a spare line at International Operator Services - but it will be recorded on the bill, here at Squirrels, as faulty, and in seconds, the message is distributed to the members worldwide through the international communications satellite. So you see, it’s quite easy really.’

Angela smiled when it simply confirmed that Sir Henry was now redundant.

‘Sir Henry, as you will obviously need a copy of the DVD to show the Forty, why don’t you come back with me and I’ll arrange it.’

Lightly rapping her fingertips on the table, she thought ahead.

‘And you haven’t seen my little hideaway, have you, it’s just so peaceful and quiet, and it even has its own beautiful private church, and if you’d like to, I could arrange for you to meet the Church Warden.’

Wandering down by the stream, Frank’s thoughts were full of Monty’s postcard, and now he could see why he’d taken the chance of sending it.

Glenndenning was on the Isles of Scilly. But why was he there?

No wonder Mrs P was upset, that was far too close to Moon Shadow for comfort.

And why had he received visitors from all over?

Well something was obviously going on, and Monty hadn’t sent the postcard for fun.

So had he discovered something requiring urgent action but couldn’t do it for himself?

Or more likely, Mrs P wouldn’t let him.

But how could he get over there with Angela watching him like a hawk?

Deciding to sleep on it, he flicked the Zippo, and having set fire to the postcard, watched as the fiery embers drifted away, and walking back, collected the torch.

The time had come to go down that hole.

The old workshop was bathed in early twilight as he pulled on the slimy chain, and as the flagstone silently rose up, switched on the torch and stepped onto the first rung of the ancient handholds, and as he made his way down, the air became heavy with the aroma of old brick, crumbling mortar and stagnant air.

He counted sixteen rungs to the bottom, and shining the torch, could hardly believe his eyes when he found himself standing on the platform of a miniature railway station, and all crafted from ancient white-glazed bricks.

Beside the platform there was a single narrow-gauge track, and sitting there, was one of those old pieces of rolling stock that was sent hurtling down the line by pushing its handle up and down, and hanging on the handle was a miner’s helmet complete with lamp.

He was tempted to jump on board and see where it would take him, but Angela might return unexpectedly, and if she caught him down here, he would probably never get to the Scilly’s, or see old Monty ever again.

So maybe have a quiet evening, think things through and let tomorrow take care of itself.

Angela awoke to the memories of Sir Henry and his laptop, and slipping out of bed, quickly showered and dressed, and had just made coffee when an urgent tapping came on the door.

It was Sir Henry, but he looked haggard, drawn and washed out.

‘Are you alright, Sir Henry?’

‘I think so, but I’ll be much happier when this whole wretched business is over.’

She poured him some coffee, ‘I quite agree, which of course, then begs the question.’

He stared blankly, ‘And which question is that?’

‘Oh, do come on … Have we been successful with the Forty?’

‘Oh yes, sorry. Well as you know, I communicated with all the members, except of course, Glenndenning, and they agree that due to the danger they must both be cleansed, and Cardinal can take Immediate Action as soon as I’ve verified and sent the evidence.’

Angela sat lost and mesmerised in a dream world.

After all these years, everything was coming true, and not only could she now arrange the destiny of Rattenegger and Glenndenning, but as soon as Sir Henry had verified the DVD, his communications laptop would be hers - and this government advisor, who had so recklessly confided in a media reporter, would wander off and disappear forever, and if she could arrange it, her golden thread might even be able to blame those un-elected advisors who controlled and kept the government so squeaky clean.

Arriving at her security lodge, the slim delicate form of Sir Henry could hardly be noticed as he lay on the rear seat, covered by a travel rug.

‘George, open the gates will you, I’m in a hurry.’

‘Yes ma’am, and could you tell Mr Lewis, we won’t be needing the torch back.’

‘The torch?’

‘Yes ma’am, he thought he heard noises.’

Frank was drinking coffee at the old stone bridge when Angela drove up and parked, and he was surprised when she opened the rear door to let a slim older man step out.

‘Frank, this is Henry, an old friend, he’s staying with us for a while.’

Shaking his feeble hand, Frank thought he seemed as jumpy as a cat on a hot tinned roof, and as Angela guided him away, she looked back, ‘So why did you need the torch?’

‘You had birds in the eves.’

‘So is that how you spent your time, checking the eves?’

‘Well there was nothing else to do.’

She didn’t believe a word of it, but let it go. Right now she had bigger fish to fry.

The kitchen was empty when Frank wandered up, and then he heard Angela in the study.

‘Louise, I will not argue with you, because if I can, I intend to send Lewis out tomorrow, that’s why it’s imperative we find Glenndenning, and yes, I know it’s short notice, but I insist you put the Church Warden on immediate standby.’

Backing off down the hall, he was surprised that Angela’s people were still searching for Glenndenning when Monty had already found him on the Isles of Scilly, or more likely, he’d been found by Mrs P, because what she didn’t know of the islands, probably wasn’t worth knowing.

But it still left the question. Why was Glenndenning there?

Thinking about it, he realised what the only reason could be, and it was the same reason why Mrs P ran her business from Moon Shadow.

Although the Isles of Scilly were within British territorial waters, they laid off from the foot of Cornwall and passports and customs were not required, so anyone with a boat could just arrive or leave as they wished.

And Monty had said in his postcard - Glenndenning was arranging a party on his yacht and people were arriving from all over.

So could it be something to do with Glenndenning getting hold of the copies of that file, the file that had scared Monty half to death?

Angela was gradually feeling more settled.

The search for Glenndenning under way, Michaela now officially cleared for cleansing, and by tomorrow evening, Sir Henry Talbot would be laying at peace in the churchyard.

So the concept of her strategy seemed perfect with her silver bullets now all in place, except the only knowledge she had of Michaela, was that she had a summer retreat at Henley on Thames.

It was difficult, but she must find her as time was racing away now, and returning to her study, took out the pad and alphabet and began to transcribe the message.

Attn DC.

Priority Directive.

Target name: Michaela Rattenegger, now confirmed.

Only known habitat : River Cottage, Henley on Thames.

Photograph, description and any other information will be sent a.s.a.p.

Immediate Action is now required.

Best wishes,

A.

She knew the message was rather vague, but what else could she do when Michaela had always covered herself in a cloak of secrecy, and now that she’d fallen foul of the Forty, it was anyone’s guess what she would do.

But surely she would have realised that Immediate Action would almost certainly be taken against her, so where would she run?

Turning her thoughts to Frank, she wondered how he would react to his new directive, but then remembered that Glenndenning was a known predator of young girls, so Marcus Glenndenning could hardly expect any mercy from Mr Frank Lewis.

When old Len cycled to the garage, he saw it was still locked and shuttered, and it wasn’t like Ted to be late - and then the postman arrived, and telling him of the trouble in the pub, asked if it might have anything to do with the anniversary of Maggie’s death?

Len sighed
. No, it was because of that beautiful little girl, Tara.

He was about to open up with the spare keys when his intuition gave him a jolt.

On the anniversary of Maggie’s death, Ted usually got rolling drunk and went walk-about till he got it out of his mind, but he’d always given him a call and asked if he would look after things till he returned. But this time he hadn’t.

Getting back on his bicycle, he set off back down the hill, and stopping at the cottage, looked around, and everything seemed normal except the windows looked sad and lifeless.

Walking up to the porch, he knocked, but apart from the echo there was not a sound, and trying the handle, the door stayed firmly locked, and walking round, he tried the back door but that was locked as well, and there was no movement anywhere in the garden.

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to go back to the garage, but as he walked down the path to the gate, he thought he heard a moan, and looking more closely, saw that some of the flowers seemed crushed, and then he saw the blood stains on the concrete statue.

Louise felt puzzled, and although it hardly seemed possible, there was nothing listed in any file against Michaela Rattenegger except her summer address in Henley on Thames and the make of her car, a 1961 Bentley S2 Continental, 2 Door Coupe.

It was as if she’d never been born, and Mrs A wouldn’t be pleased with this.

But what could she do? There was nowhere else to look.

Picking up the red phone, she reluctantly dialled the number.

‘Ma’am, it’s Louise. I’m calling about that info you asked for, concerning MR.’

‘And you’ve taken your time about it. So go on then, what have you found?’

‘Well actually, nothing … There isn’t anything more than we already know.’

‘You’re joking.’

‘No ma’am, sorry, but there is something rather odd.’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Well every file I checked, said, ask the Minotaur, and when I finally got through and requested her file, it just said,
Held by the Titan of Nissyros
.’

‘What? So what the hell does that mean?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well find out then, it might be the only clue we have.’

Going through to the kitchen, she angrily snatched her bag, and was about to make her way upstairs, when she abruptly stopped.

The Titan of Nissyros was obviously Greek mythology and she ought to know of it, but nothing came to mind, and then Frank came down the stairs wearing clean clothes.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’

‘Just out for a drink. You said I’ll be getting back to work tomorrow.’

‘Yes. I suppose that’s fair enough, so where do you intend to go?’

‘I thought I’d try that spit and sawdust place, the one the keepers use.’

‘Alright, but don’t be late, tomorrow could be busy.’

He nodded, and walking through to the study, called the lodge and asked for a lift.

‘A lift to the pub, sir? Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes.’