Untouchable (20 page)

Still the group huddled over the desk. They weren’t looking in her direction. Could she creep out and escape?

No, she thought. It was far too risky. If they caught her she would be dead.

She felt behind her with her hands. The cupboard seemed to be quite deep – as if . . . She carefully took a step back. Her bare foot met stone. She took another step back. More stone. And another.

She was in a passage.

Amber turned round. Groping with her hands, she began to walk.

Exactly one hour after Alex had spoken to Hex, he arrived at the entrance for the next call. Behind him, Paulo and Li stood shivering. It wasn’t hard to be punctual when there was nothing else you had to do.

Hex’s message bleeped through. Alex turned to the others. ‘They’ve got it. Here, ten o’clock.’

‘
Dios
,’ breathed Paulo. ‘I thought they’d never manage it.’

Alex quickly dialled Hex. ‘Got it. Can you tip off the police safely?’

‘No problem,’ said Hex.

But Alex caught a note of caution in Hex’s voice. He’d gone quiet, as if he was afraid of being heard.

‘You OK, mate?’

‘Yeah.’ Hex’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘A bunch of guys just went past, that’s all. I’ll call the police now. Somehow, I’m going to have to make them listen to me more seriously this time—’

‘Collect Amber and get out. We’ll see you when it’s all over.’ Alex cut the connection.

Li and Paulo jumped up. They looked animated again, purposeful. Alex felt his spirits rise as adrenaline kicked in. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

Amber found herself at the bottom of a tight spiral staircase. Water dripped down, and high above was a tiny diamond window. She began to climb. Cobwebs brushed against her face. She tried not to think about the spiders who must be hitching a ride in her hair. The steps were gritty and wet under her bare feet. Up and up they went. Where would they come out? They couldn’t have been built just to connect a cupboard in the laird’s office with the roof, could they? One thing was for sure, with all these cobwebs, no one had been this way for a long time.

The triangular steps flattened out to form a small landing. A light showed in a narrow line. Another doorway?

She peered through the crack. An office of some sort, surrounded by shelves. A woman sat at a desk in the middle, a Glaickvullin Lodge name badge on her dark cardigan. Should she come out? What would the woman do? She might call hotel security.

Amber went on up and came to another landing with a wooden door. She listened and made out a voice: ‘Honey, did you hear something?’ American. Male.

There was a reply: ‘Honey, you’re always like this with jet lag. I said you should have stayed up.’ Female. Also American. It was obviously someone’s room.

Amber moved and stepped on a sharp piece of grit. She sucked her breath in through her teeth.

‘What was that?’ The man’s voice sounded panicky. ‘Is this place haunted?’

She seemed to have caught them off guard. If she had to escape through anywhere, a room with two jet-lagged guests was a better bet than a room with a member of staff.

Amber rapped on the panel smartly. ‘Hello?’ She pushed the panel open.

Staring at her was one of the American couples she had seen on the tour earlier. The man wore a navy blue eye mask pushed up on his forehead.

For once Amber was lost for words. She closed the cupboard door behind her and padded across the soft carpet to the double doors at the entrance to the suite.

‘Hey – aren’t you that pop star?’ said the man.

Amber smiled. ‘No, I just look like her.’ She reached the door. ‘Sleep well. Sorry to disturb you.’

Out on the landing she paused to get her bearings. A sign pointed to
ROOMS
300–320, so she must be on the third floor. She had grey dust down both arms and her feet were gritty and filthy. Hex must be waiting for her down in the conference centre, but she couldn’t go down there looking like this. Better go to their suite and call from there.

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Paulo. ‘Do you think that will work?’

They were sitting in the tunnel, the plastic drainpipe snaking alongside them. Alex had a stick in his hand and they had been drawing diagrams in the mud as they worked out their plan.

Li nodded. ‘They’re terrified of fire in there. It’s got one exit, it’s enclosed. They could easily suffocate. They sent that guy outside when he wanted a cigarette.’

Alex prodded the plan he had drawn. ‘We start a fire, the smoke brings them out, just in time for the police to see . . . Great, but what are we going to burn? We can’t collect wood. Everything out there is sopping wet.’

Li shrugged her pack off her shoulders and opened it. ‘We must have something in here that’s dry.’ She brought out a gas stove and weighed it in her hand. ‘Too small?’

‘That won’t produce enough smoke,’ said Paulo. He was rummaging in his pack too. ‘Spare socks?’

‘We’re not trying to poison them,’ said Li.

Alex sighed. ‘It’ll have to be the rope. But that will mean we’ve only got one possible exit.’ He looked at the others. ‘What do you think?’

They thought carefully. Li fingered the end of the rope, which was coiled diagonally across her body. ‘I suppose we won’t be needing it again . . .’ Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t a hundred per cent keen on burning a vital piece of equipment.

Paulo put his pack back on. ‘The advantage of using the rope is that we can thread it into the crevice so that the smoke really gets in.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ve got to use it.’

‘OK, agreed,’ said Li. ‘We burn the rope.’

Alex scrubbed out the diagram. He doubted whether anyone would ever find it, but it was standard practice to cover their tracks. ‘Let’s rehearse.’

Hex put the key to the conference room on the marble reception desk and then headed for the stairs. He was worried about Amber. He was going back to their suite and he hoped she’d be there. He put his foot on the bottom step.

A voice made him jump. ‘How did you get in here? Are you dropping off the bikes or something?’ Tiff.

She was coming down the stairs. Beside her was the woman who had picked her up in the taxi earlier – her parents’ PA. Both were dressed up for dinner.

‘Hi, Tiff,’ Hex had said, and tried to smile.

‘Yeah, hello,’ Tiff mumbled in her usual grudging way, and hurried away, explaining to the woman, ‘He’s one of the people from the hostel.’

The sooner I get out of here, thought Hex, the better. And I hope you choke on a canapé. Anyway, he had more pressing matters. He turned.

Someone was blocking his way. A figure with dark hair, a blue-green kilt, the rough army-style jumper replaced by an evening jacket and frilly shirt. The laird was standing above him on the stairs.

He gave Hex a courteous smile. ‘Good to see you here. Was the hostel suitable for your needs?’ The twang of London’s East End was a reminder of the roughness beneath the smooth exterior.

Hex’s mouth went dry. Was there any way to get away? ‘The hostel was fine, thanks.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Listen, I’m late—’

The laird moved down a step so that he stood closer to Hex. Hex could see the black flecks in the brown eyes. ‘I’m glad I caught you. There’s something I need to ask you about the vehicles. Have you got a moment?’

Hex noticed two people close in behind him. He couldn’t recall having seen them before. One was muscular, with a shaved head. The other was big and fleshy. They closed in and forced him to turn round and go down the stairs again. They herded him through the hall and down the narrow passageway. The laird turned to the other men and fiddled with his cufflinks. ‘If you just carry on, there’s something I have to do.’ He moved away.

Now Hex was alone with the two men.

His phone rang. The bald guy snatched it from Hex’s waistband and his heart started hammering. Who was it?

The man lifted it to his ear, the blue glow of the screen illuminating the side of his head. ‘Who is this?’

Hex kept his face impassive. Inside he was repeating,
Hang up now, don’t say anything
.

The man took the phone away from his ear and put it in his pocket. Whoever it was had hung up – but at least somebody now knew he was in trouble.

They walked out through the back door and into the big yard. The rain had stopped now and the bustle had died down. The birds had been fed, the tools tidied away. Music wafted over from the dining room. A ceilidh was starting up: plenty of noise to cover whatever the men planned to do with him, Hex thought.

Tiff came out of the dining room, hand in hand with a tall blond-haired lad. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet,’ she said. ‘There are too many people in there.’

‘How about down here?’ said the boy. Bagpipes started playing a reel and he whirled Tiff around in a circle and pulled her into the dark corridor.

Tiff hefted up her long skirt and tried to keep up, her arm outstretched. ‘No, that goes out to the farmyard,’ she laughed. ‘It’s the smelly bit.’

The boy turned to her, eyes glinting wickedly. ‘But it’s quiet.’

She could see some men in the yard. They weren’t dressed in the normal farm stuff she had seen before. They were standing in front of an open door.

The boy saw them and turned to Tiff. ‘Too crowded. Let’s find somewhere else.’

Something made Tiff look back and saw that one of the figures was Hex. A large man threw him into the storeroom, hard, as though he was trying to hurt him. The other man raised a gun, pointed it into the storeroom and fired. Tiff gave a cry and jumped.

The boy put an arm across her shoulders and tried to pull her towards the main hall. ‘It’s people hunting. An adventuring tigress like you isn’t scared of gunshots, is she?’

Tiff wrestled free and looked back. The two men stood at the door to the storeroom. The one with the gun was still firing. Fear rose in her throat: there was something about the way he did it, clinically, coldly. Six shots, one after the other.

The air was filled with the scream of jet engines. Li looked up the crevice. Five fighter planes cut through the air like black arrows and roared away into the distance. As the sound faded they heard something else: a vehicle engine being cut.

Li, Paulo and Alex were in position in the tunnel where the ventilation pipe went into the factory.

Paulo only needed a second to identify the vehicle. ‘A Range Rover,’ he said quietly.

Li, poised further up in the crack in the rock, could just about see out. ‘It’s them.’

The two gamekeepers slammed the vehicle doors. A big man with a hood pulled up over his head got out more slowly, taking his time. Ivanovich. The evening sun glinted off the piercings in his nose, his bottom lip, his cheek. Li couldn’t forget a face like that.

One of the gamekeepers felt in his pocket and walked towards Li. She could see the lacings on his boots. He was barely three metres away. Silent as a cat, she stepped down in case he could see her – although he shouldn’t be able to. The three friends had smeared mud all over themselves and were well camouflaged.

The gamekeeper took a small device out of his pocket and pointed it at the ground. It let out a high-pitched beep. Deep in the metal structure they felt rather than heard something moving. The trapdoor must have an electronic lock. They hadn’t heard it before because they hadn’t been that close.

Good job we didn’t try going in there, thought Paulo. We’d never have got past something like that.

They heard the trapdoor open. Footsteps rang on the metal rungs, resonated on the walls of the container and shuddered down the plastic pipe. They heard him step off at the bottom. Light sliced through the crevice as he flashed his torch around. His footsteps came towards them.

The three friends tried to shrink into the shadows. What if he saw the trail of blue climber’s rope that snaked along the crack beside the pipe?

There was a noise like an engine turning over. Then it started running. The generator was on.

Alex grasped Paulo’s and Li’s hands and gave them a squeeze. The countdown had started.

Alex took his survival kit out of his pocket and took the lid off. He removed a small pack of matches, wrapped in cling film. Just as they’d rehearsed, Li put out her hand and took the rest of the kit.

The walls resonated as the other two figures climbed down the ladder. Got them, thought Alex. They were ready to do their bit. Would the police be in time?

The air was starting to roar again. The fighter jets were coming back. To Paulo, something about the noise was a little bit different. They swooped away and circled back.

Definitely different. Under the cry of the jets was a beating, a rhythm. A helicopter. The police were here. They’d used the jets as cover.

Alex struck a match and it flared, then went out. Li held the tin so he could try again. He struck another. It flared, then died.

Paulo looked up. The planes were criss-crossing the sky, banking and turning. Hopefully the men couldn’t hear it in the factory, especially with the noise of the generator, but the cover wouldn’t last for ever.

Alex discarded a third match. He sighed with frustration and moved a dead squirrel out of the way with his foot so he could get closer to the rope.

‘Are they wet?’ whispered Li.

‘They’re waterproof,’ hissed Alex. ‘They’ll light no matter what. You’ve seen them.’

Paulo looked up again. Li suddenly felt faint. A cough welled up in her throat and she pressed her mouth together in a tight line. If she coughed it would give their position away.