Drawing the Line (26 page)

‘No, they’re very narrow. You stick to Stone Street.’

I gave up, and concentrated on the road ahead. And, of course, behind. Perhaps he was right: it was better to be on a nice straight stretch like most of the B2068 – Stone Street – where you could see a mile behind as well as ahead.

‘Wheelbarrow Town,’ he said suddenly.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘There’s a road through Wheelbarrow Town. Head for Lyminge. There you are! That garage!’ He flung his arm across my chest. ‘Right!’

I barely had time to signal, which must have pleased the guy coming up behind me at well past the sixty limit. Lord Elham directed me through increasingly narrow lanes. Then we reached another comparatively straight road, across heathland.

‘The Minnis. Never been enclosed,’ he informed me.

‘Where’s this town, then?’

‘A couple of miles back.’

‘Eh?’

‘Just a few cottages. But I always liked the name. Nice names round here. Ever had piles? No? Too young, I suppose. Anyway, if your name was Lin, and you’d got
piles, I’d take you to Linsore Bottom.’

He expected a laugh, so he got one. Suddenly I was in a familiar cluster of houses, the Hop Pocket to my left. I took the right, and then started up the track to Bossingham Hall. The Ka’s suspension didn’t like it one scrap. Neither did Lord Elham’s head. So I stopped, reversing to the lane, intending to go back up it and into the grounds through those wonderful front gates. Until, that is, I saw a blue Focus nosing its way towards me. To hell with the suspension. I pulled sharply back in. off the track and into the shelter of the hedge. Hell, this would have to be the day I’d chosen a red car.

But there must be a lot of Focuses on the road, and I must be getting neurotic. At any rate, this one, carried on the way it was going, to Linsore Bottom for all I knew. Griff’d love that name, especially as a woman friend of his was always banging on about her haemorrhoids. But for the moment, what I had to think about was getting up to the house safe and sound, hiding the car, and making sure we locked ourselves away from the police and other intruders.

‘There’s that play,’ Lord Elham reflected, staring into his champagne glass, ‘where this chappie gives up conjuring and makes a speech about it. Lina ought to know, but she went to these rotten schools, you see. You got any idea, old boy?’

Titus looked desperately to me for help. I wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t every day you got invited to a stately home to clear out some illicit loot you could use in your own illegal sideline, and then, black sacks stowed in your white van, quaff champagne in a crystal glass. This had no doubt been his idea of dying and going to heaven – until, that is, the loony lord started talking Shakespeare.

‘The Tempest,
’ I said, having seen it – and been totally confused by it – with Griff, who’d blamed himself for my puzzlement and read it through with me two very wet winter evenings in the caravan. ‘Something about charms being overthrown.’ I’d tried to learn the whole speech to please Griff, but what little had stuck had slipped away now.

I hadn’t had an easy time persuading Lord Elham to do maybe not the honest, but at least the sensible thing. The moment we’d reached the Hall, he’d wanted to glue himself to the television: apparently even an afternoon of watching a women’s cricket match in Durham was better than confronting unwelcome truths.

‘Look,’ I’d persisted, ‘I wasn’t exaggerating this morning when I said you – we – were in danger.’

‘You will stay then?’ He’d been as eager as a puppy.

‘On a few conditions. One of which is that we get rid of evidence that’d send you down if the police decided
to pay you a visit. I can take the lot to the tip. Or I can contact my mate Titus Oates.’

‘Is that really his name?’

‘Of course not. But no one ever uses his real one. He’d dispose of it for you, no questions asked.’

‘Do you think he’d let me do some work for him? I get so bored.’

‘You’ll have to ask him, won’t you? He’s told me your work’s good.’ Carrot, then a bit of stick. ‘You might get quite bored in jail, of course. And there’d be no champagne there.’

‘Hmm. That writer chappie – not a real lord, was he? He didn’t think much of it, did he?’

‘Not one bit.’ On the other hand, a prison diet, while not the sort of thing Griff would let me eat, might be healthier than eternal Pot Noodles – even than eternal frozen meals for one, two of which I’d reheated for our lunch. ‘The other thing we have to do – and fast – is get
Natura Rerum
into safe keeping.’

‘They’ll never find it,’ he said, reaching for the remote again.

‘They tried to run me over; they attacked a frail old man; they socked you. Would they stop at a touch of torture, d’you suppose?’ Preferably him, not me, but you never knew. And what I did know was that I’d blab at the first opportunity. I’d hate the idea of the book falling into bad hands, but it hadn’t brought me much luck so far, and I didn’t feel I owed it anything. At least, that was what I told myself. But I wasn’t sure.

‘My God! Torture?’

‘We’re miles from anywhere: no one’d hear us scream. And if they decided to kill us who’d find out? They
could be away from here and living off the proceeds in Spain before they found our bodies.’ I didn’t tell him that I’d known the same temptation to violence. Now, though I could have wrung his neck, I couldn’t have done him real harm.

‘But – Lina, you’re joking.’

Arms akimbo, I demanded, ‘Do I look as if I’m joking?’

‘That’s what Nanny Lyons used to say. She used to frighten me, Lina.’

There was nothing in the rules to say I couldn’t play the scary nanny too. ‘Lord Elham, if you want to die a lingering death, you can do it on your own. Or we can get rid of all your forgery equipment and ask the police to come and guard us. As for the book, we need a place of safety for it. With someone we can trust to give nothing away.’ OTT or what? It was hard not to laugh at the poor man’s rabbit eyes, or even more at my own attempts at being a dominatrix. But underneath I was deadly serious. And scared. ‘Well, shall I phone my contact?’

Standing at the side door, we waved Titus off. No, I’d seen nothing of my father’s workroom or its contents, much as I’d have liked to. If the police did get involved, I didn’t want to know what had been hidden in there so I didn’t have to lie. He and Lord Elham had dealt with everything, while I made further inroads into the kitchen – I didn’t find anything special, but at least I couldn’t overhear them making plans for Lord Elham’s future employment. There’d been a load of rubbish sacks to drag into the yards, but to my irritation the lock
on the kitchen door hadn’t yielded. It was amazing what a dab of rancid lard could achieve, though, and by the time I’d finished it turned as easily as on the day it had been made. And it locked as easily after my last trip out. I wasn’t taking any risks.

Herding Lord Elham back in, I turned the front door key just as firmly. ‘Now,’ I said with the same
nanny-tone
that had been so useful before,
‘Natura Rerum
. We have to get rid of it. Now. You give it to me, I drive off and put it somewhere safe, and then I come back and I’ll watch TV with you. How about that?’

Like a lamb he toddled off, returning with something in a Tesco carrier. Perhaps that was his attempt at camouflage. The living room table was still too filthy to put anything important on, but the kitchen one was clean enough, thanks to my efforts. I headed back there, laying my burden gently onto the newly-scrubbed wood. Yes. There was the twin of the volume I’d handled so tenderly in Oxford. This time I didn’t have any cotton gloves, so I confined myself to just the one page – the one it fell open to. Lord Elham’s sideline hadn’t done the binding any good. Yes, there it was: my childhood, in my hands. And what good had it done me? Why didn’t I simply bag it up again and drop it on the lap of the old soak who was already hooked on some stupid teatime quiz game?

Because of that breaking glass, that’s why. No, not a champagne glass – crystal makes quite a different sound from a window. And there was a yell from Lord Elham.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed the book, shoving it back into the carrier, and let myself silently out of the kitchen door. The yard was almost blocked by a Focus and a
couple of large white vans – they’d come mob-handed, then. But there was room for the Ka to squeeze through. Just. Which would make less noise, a bolt down that pathway or a slow roll? And what the hell should I do once I’d made the lane? I had to make sure the book was safe before I went back to the Hall – no, I wasn’t about to leave Lord Elham to his fate, however tempted I was. After all, he’d kept his side of the bargain. Nine-nine-nine? Yes, if we hadn’t been in a mobile blackspot. What about the people at the pub? I couldn’t ask them to fight for an old book if threatened with violence.

In any case, the Hop Pocket was closed – wouldn’t open till seven. Where next? Someone was having the first barbecue of the summer. A hundred yards distant, a woman was leading two horses away from me. And then I spotted a familiar car: Robin, the clergyman’s. Diving out of the Ka, I waved him down.

‘Has your church got a safe?’ I yelled.

No wonder he gaped though his open window.

‘This is a matter of life and death,’ I added, thrusting the carrier at him. ‘Get it into a safe –’

‘I’m just on my way into Canterbury –’

‘Will the Cathedral still be open?’

‘Yes. There’s a concert there. That’s where I’m –’

‘Go and enjoy yourself,’ I said. ‘But make sure you put this in the safe first. One more thing. As soon as you can use your mobile call the police. Bossingham Hall. No, don’t ask any questions. Just call the police. Some men have broken in – they’re threatening Lord Elham with violence.’

‘Where are you going?’

I was too busy scooting back to the Ka to answer. In
any case, I didn’t want him coming over all chivalrous and trying to tackle Lord Elham’s visitors. So afraid I was swallowing bile, I tried to work out a plan. It’d take several minutes before he could make that call. Why shouldn’t I simply knock on one of these nicely painted front doors and ask to use the phone? I didn’t look threatening, did I? But they were all tight shut. If only there were someone walking along the road, putting out rubbish – anything. I started to panic – Lord Elham was as stupidly stubborn as they came: he could be badly hurt by now.

At last! A middle-aged couple emerged from their home – a bungalow with the best-trimmed lawn I’d ever seen – with their dog. Which didn’t like my rapid approach, and showed its teeth.

‘Accident!’ I yelled, over its snarls. ‘At Bossingham Hall! The private wing. Lord Elham – Could you call the police? And ambulance?’ There was little doubt that’d be needed. And not necessarily for Lord Elham – as soon as the man, nodding helpfully, went back into the house, I turned back to the car.

‘Are you all right? Do you need a cup of tea?’ the woman asked kindly.

The dog didn’t second her invitation.

‘No time. Got to see what I can do!’ I was in the car before I could change my mind.

There were plenty of weapons in the outhouses. The trouble is, if you use something hard and heavy and maybe sharp on someone, you have to use it right, or they can grab it and use it on you. A pitchfork looked impressive, and this one fitted my hand nicely, but it’d
be no use against a gun. And it might get tangled up with things – a short cudgel would be better. A broken spade handle was just the job.

There was no sound from the house as I approached, keeping low on the far side of the vehicles. But then came the slam of wood against wood. I risked a look. Two men, neither familiar, were carrying out that lovely bureau, and had banged it on the doorframe. Murder in my heart, I gripped the shaft more tightly. With a hard enough whack I could lay one of the buggers out cold, and maybe get the second too. Tying them up and locking them in the removal van would improve the odds no end.

The first went down with the tiniest grunt, the bureau completing the job as it fell on him. At least he was soft and would cushion it, reducing the chance of damage. The second man was so busy cursing his mate, it was easy to take him out too. It didn’t take long to drag him into the nearest van, and truss him with the long tapes meant for the rest of Lord Elham’s furniture – damn it, they’d already stowed his desk.

The man under the bookshelves didn’t look too good. Gently easing the bookcase upright – thanks, Griff, for teaching me lifting techniques – I peered more closely. Maybe I shouldn’t move him, but leave him for the paramedics. But I wouldn’t take any risks. I tied his wrist and ankles.

Now for the house. I clutched the spade handle with more fear than I liked to admit. But I had to do it, however much I wanted to cower outside the door, waiting for the Fifth Cavalry. Now? Now!

But even as I braced myself, luck tapped me on the
shoulder. A third man came out, carrying a couple of Hepplewhite chairs. ‘Andy? Mick? Where the hell are you?’

He’d know when he came to tied back to back with the guy in the van.

How many more? I daren’t assume that was the lot. Much as I wanted to stop to set the chairs upright and dust them down for damage, I had to go and find out. Where the hell were the police? That vicar couldn’t have let me down, could he? And if he had, what about the villagers?

No. They couldn’t all be corrupt. Even if by some terrible mischance the clergyman was a fake – he’d been in the right place each time, hadn’t he? – the bungalow couple wouldn’t be in league. So why were there no blue flashing lights?

Answer – and a cold sweat to go with it – probably because they’d all go to the main gates and find them locked. And think everything was a hoax and go back to base. OK. So I was on my own again, at least until I could get on to the landline phone inside. On my own with however many thugs and a lord with at least one head injury and a dope habit worth two. Whatever. Come on, Lina. Do your stuff.

I did.

The dust of ages filled my nostrils as I tiptoed inside. Trying not to sneeze, I headed for the living room. No TV. The phone ripped from its socket. Bad signs. But no groans either. And no sign of Lord Elham, though it was clear that this was where they’d broken in. Of course, all the other rooms would be shuttered and locked. As much to stop the whooshing sound in my ears as
anything, I tried to get my brain into gear. How could I possibly work out where they’d taken him?

Stubborn he might be, but he’d not been keen on the idea of pain. And he was as cunning as he was stubborn. What if he’d taken them to the obvious place to keep a book, the library? Then he could have a good fumble round searching for keys.

It was a long shot. But it was so quiet in this wing, it might be the right one. As I hesitated, I caught a glimpse of something glistening in the passage carpet. Flakes of glass. Dabbing in the code, I clutched my shaft and pushed through the door.

But I didn’t go directly to the library. Instead I dashed to the area where on quieter days they admitted Joe Public. Somewhere there would be the front gates control mechanism. Not to mention the front door key. And a working land line.

Of course I ignored the police advice to stay put and do nothing. I had to find out if my theory about the library was correct, after all. And to see how Lord Elham was shaping up. The answer was not at all well. I could hear groans from the top of the staircase, answering the sound of something hard on soft flesh. I could see the splatters of blood on the carpet when I put my eye to the crack between the double doors.

The next whack provoked a scream. Scary or what? I muscled in. And hit Tony Baker as hard as I could. Lord Elham was barely conscious, and his pulse was feeble and irregular. If only I knew some first aid. But even as I bent over him, he grasped my hand. ‘The others,’ he groaned.

‘What others?’

The only reply was a rasping groan. Hell, where were the paramedics? And why wasn’t there a phone in here? If I did the wrong thing I could make bad worse. At least I could cover him with my jacket. I started to slip it off.