Hider/Seeker (21 page)

Harry drove to Marigot Bay that afternoon and immediately found the narrow road that led up the hillside to Angela Linehan's hideaway. He pulled over by an empty villa half-way up the hill, thinking it would be safer to go the rest of the way on foot. If he heard a car coming he could take cover behind the trees at the side of the road. He took plenty of drinking water with him in his backpack and headed off.

When he reached the hill's peak
,
he stayed off the road altogether to keep out of sight of Angela Linehan's men. His shirt was sticking to his skin and he stank to high heaven.

He climbed up further to a small clearing among the trees, but before going any further he stopped to down a litre of water. Underfoot a line of ants were partying in an earth bank while overhead coots and sandpipers were looping the big blue. He slid the empty bottle back into his bag and continued up through the trees, keeping an eye on the road all the time.

An approaching car made him fall to one knee. Its engine didn't sound too healthy as it passed by. But the car kept going, croaking its way to the top of the hill before turning down the dirt track that led to the house. Harry straightened himself and with quick steps crossed the road, making his way up a slope towards the same dirt track.

All the time he was mindful of keeping within the shadow of the trees as he moved parallel to the track towards the house. Less than a hundred yards ahead of him was the steel gate he'd seen the previous day from Sampson's helicopter. It began to open electronically, and the car he'd seen spluttering earlier, drove out to make the return journey down the hill. The driver looked local, probably making a delivery of groceries.

As the gate started to shut again, Harry cursed himself for missing an opportunity to sneak inside the grounds even though that would have been a reckless thing to do and not part of his plan. Keeping his head down, he darted across the dirt track and shouldered his way through dense overgrowth to find the perimeter wall of the grounds. Every fifteen feet there were warnings that the electric wires along the top of the wall carried a charge of 10,000 volts.

He climbed a tree to get a good look at the two storey egg-shaped house and its long drive. He pulled out Eden's sketch of the grounds and compared. The smaller egg-shaped garage that mirrored the house was large enough for four cars. Eden had said the electrics to the house were located there as it also housed the generator. The garage was integral to the main building, meaning that once finding her, he would be able to force her into one of the cars without being seen – that was, if she didn't cooperate. Only one problem: her hired hands bunked in the rooms over the garage.

According to Eden's drawing, the pool faced towards the ocean, but that was at the rear of the house. The living room, dining room and kitchen were on the ground floor, along with an office and games room where there was a widescreen TV for the boy. The top floor had six bedrooms, each with a bathroom. Eden had told him that the last bedroom – left of Harry's view – was the master bedroom. Next to it were stairs leading up to a concealed flat roof where the satellite dish was fixed.

Harry climbed higher up the tree to get a better look at the compound with his binoculars. Getting past the four men he'd counted in the grounds wasn't going to be easy. Plus there'd be a fifth to contend with – the man on the bike who picked up Peter daily. Angela Linehan had become her own jailer far sooner than he'd expected. All his clients ended up frightened like her to varying degrees once the paranoia set in, but it was usually after six to eight months. The main difference between her and them was she had more to worry about. Luckily for her, she also had the money to build her own maximum security facility in the sun.

He could hear the motorbike carrying Peter, like an approaching mosquito. The sound was growing louder, frightening the birds out of the trees. When the bike reached the steel gate, a four-by-four Mercedes parked on the inside of the gate reversed away. The gate swung open and Harry paid particular attention to the control panel operating the gate. Once the gate shut again, the four-by-four rolled straight back into place.

There wouldn't be time to move the Merc from the gate while trying to whisk Angela Linehan away in another vehicle. The fact that it was being used as reinforcement at least confirmed to Harry that her security had figured out something he'd been pondering. The only way into and out of the compound was through the steel gate because it was impossible to scale the steep cliff face at the rear and hack through its thick rainforest vegetation.

Peter was dropped off at the entrance to the house and he ran immediately inside. But there was still no sign of Angela Linehan.

Harry scanned the windows with his binoculars. For a second or two he caught Peter's shadowy figure darting into the living room, but then lost him again. He checked the windows on the upper floor, but nothing was stirring. There was no choice but to move to the rear of the grounds. She just had to be there.

He lowered himself to the ground and dropped the final few feet. Dogs barking in the distance started to make him feel nervous. But he needed to know that Angela Linehan was living there. He made his way to the back of the house and clambered up another tree.

Some fifty yards away Peter was splashing in the pool. A guard in short sleeves and chinos was reading a paper in the afternoon shade with a coke in his hand. Angela Linehan must have insisted on discreet protection for the sake of her son because none of the guards he'd seen so far were visibly carrying arms. But that didn't mean they were only wearing deodorant under their baggy shirts. These men weren't there to be ornamental.

His plan was to make her see sense and transfer the money back to the Marottas. She might need some persuading, but he wasn't going to do it at the point of a gun. Her survival would be dependent on her wiring the money back to where it belonged. She'd be intelligent enough to see there was no alternative.

The real problem would be getting into the house and having enough time to convince her. Once he got her agreement, they might just be able to leave the compound on their own accord. But he still had to factor in that she might not cooperate. Then he'd have no choice but to knock her out cold and get her through the steel gate as best he could.

There was no flourish of trumpets when she stepped out onto the terrace. There should have been, as he'd been waiting for so long for that moment. It was her alright, looking demure in a loose cotton dress as she sauntered across the terrace in her wooden sandals. Her hair was now blonde and frizzy from the humidity. He could not mistake that air of self-confidence as she slowly made her way to the pool's edge with one hand holding a cocktail and the other resting on her hip.

She shouted at Peter to come out immediately and then went across to the guard sitting in the shade, his newspaper drooping between his hands. He looked up and smiled at her. She ruffled his hair and returned back inside the house.

The next morning Harry rang Oscar, but it went straight to voicemail. He wanted to tell him that Eden wasn't going to be up to the job of driving him to Angela Linehan's hideaway, having seen first-hand the layout and security. Eden would freeze at the first sign of trouble and trouble was guaranteed. He needed Oscar at the wheel in case he had to deal with Angela Linehan in the back of the van while they escaped. There would be no problem if she was compliant, but he had to be ready for the worst outcome.

Eden was going to have to prep him on what to say at the gate. Harry wanted the name of the man he knew there and anything personal about him that he could use for chit-chat.

The whole morning Harry kicked his heels in Monty's house while waiting for Oscar to get back to him. It was strange that he hadn't returned his call at all and decided to ring The Debeaumont to track his whereabouts. The receptionist would only say her boss had been called away on urgent business but couldn't be more specific.

He spoke next to Nelson and asked him if he had any other numbers for contacting Oscar. Nelson hadn't. Harry told him to cancel the next few days and remain on standby. The money was going to be transferred to the Marottas and he needed him to be there when they exchanged Bethany. Harry went through the details of how that would work. Nelson said he'd already hired men he knew well to handle it all.

Next, Bethany's mother. Elizabeth had no more horror parcels in the post, but couldn't bear the silence any longer, she told him. Harry reassured her it would all be over shortly. Nelson would bring Bethany back home to her.

With still no word from Oscar, he called Bob Sampson, the only other person on the island he felt he could trust.

‘Hey there, how you doing?' asked Sampson.

‘I need to get hold of Oscar? He's not picking up.'

‘Well, he ain't on the golf course because that's where I am right now.'

‘The girl at The Debeaumont said he'd been called away on urgent business.'

Sampson laughed. ‘Nothing's ever urgent in St Lucia; they take their time over everything. But if you hold on, I'll ask Oscar's manager where he's gone.'

Harry could hear him over the phone conferring with Jake, who he knew by sight.

Sampson came back on. ‘Says he saw Oscar and Baptiste shooting off in the car early this morning; doesn't know where to.'

‘Can you think of anyone else I could call?'

‘Sorry, son. If there is anything else I can do?'

‘If you see Oscar, tell him to give me a shout. It's urgent.'

‘The chopper is always at your disposal – they managed to fix it.'

Harry thanked him and disconnected. He called The Debeaumont again and was answered by the same receptionist as before.

‘Don't suppose Mr Underwood has returned?'

‘No sir. Are you the same gentleman who rang earlier?'

Harry said he was and she told him to hold for a minute. There was a click on the line, followed by the voice of Bobby McFerrin singing
Don't Worry Be Happy
…

He was far from happy and couldn't imagine ever being happy again the way things were rapidly developing.

Click. The singing stopped.

‘Mr Bridger, where are you?' asked Baptiste at the other end of the line. ‘After our little talk you just disappeared in the middle of the night.'

‘I need to speak to Oscar.'

‘Took him to the airport this morning. He'll be back later in the week.'

Harry didn't respond as he needed to think.

‘I hope you are considering carefully what I said at the bar,' continued Baptiste, his voice light and conspiratorial. ‘We need to hurry up on our arrangements. Why don't you drop by tonight?' he suggested. ‘Or better still, tell me where you are, and I'll come over straight away.'

‘I'm a bit busy right now.' Harry clicked the button and disconnected.

He went out onto the terrace to get some fresh air to think clearly. Monty and Eden were there eating a very late lunch under the jasmine vines and they invited him to join them in a plate of tuna niçoise.

‘Your face looks like thunder, dear,' said Monty, pouring wine for everyone. ‘Something up?'

‘What's the story on Baptiste?'

Monty's eyes were already loose in their sockets after downing half a bottle of Bordeaux on his own. His tongue was even looser as he began blabbing about Baptiste, “the Beast”.

‘They never proved a thing,' he said with a finger pointed directly at Harry. ‘But we all knew of course.'

Harry was completely nonplussed. ‘What didn't they prove?'

‘Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying?'

Monty's story was so mixed up with boats, drugs and young boys with their heads missing that Harry had no idea what he was talking about.

‘I'll start again,' said Monty, stopping to top up his glass. Eden's head had slumped on the old man's shoulder and was fast asleep.

‘When that bastard was in the force down here,' said Monty, ‘everyone was scared shitless of him and his brother, Elijah; including their own commanders. They intimidated everyone from the big hoteliers to church ministers and the little guys who ran the variety shops in towns. Then one day, so the story goes, the brothers got involved in a police operation to destroy marijuana fields not far from here. More than five thousand plants had to be burnt down. In one of the huts they also found ninety pounds of weed. They couldn't believe their luck. The plants and the weed had a total street value of over a quarter million dollars US.'

‘When was this?' asked Harry.

‘Six, seven years back.'

‘And?'

‘What I told you before, if you were listening. Baptiste and his brother can't bring themselves round to burning the fields, so they make it look as if all the fields had been destroyed by burning some of the plants. They save the rest and ship them out to some small-time gangster in Antigua. Baptiste does all the arrangements, getting himself a boat and hiring these youths to help him offload the cargo to waiting lorries on a quiet moonlit beach. Problem starts when the gangster doesn't pay him. As officers of the Royal St Lucia Police Force, Baptiste and his brother can hardly blow the whistle on this guy on another island.'

Harry thought that was the end of the story and helped himself to more tuna.

‘There's more.'

Harry stopped filling his plate.

‘Those youths that helped him? Their bodies were found chopped up all over St Lucia – their heads never recovered.'

‘Didn't anyone suspect him?'

‘Of course. An operation like that was difficult to cover up completely.'

‘No moves to arrest him?'

‘Many times, but there was either not enough evidence or people were too scared to take the stand.'

‘That's why he left the force?'

Monty nodded again. ‘His brother kept out of the firing line the whole time. It was quite unbelievable when you think about it. But that's St Lucia for you.'

‘So what happened afterwards?'

‘Oscar hired Baptiste for some inexplicable reason. Probably thought the big man would help stop the local wise guys coming round for envelope money. Oscar was having a lot of trouble at the time. A top resort like his attracts all sorts.'

‘So he had something over Baptiste?'

‘Would you take him on, unless you had some way of controlling him?'

‘Any ideas what?'

‘One imagines something that ties Baptiste to the murders, but don't quote me.'

Harry returned to his bedroom to lay down in the musty darkness of the closed jalousies. Too much was going on in his head to sleep: Oscar disappearing, Baptiste blackmailing him, Angela Linehan and her army of security guards, and the ticking clock of the Marottas.

The lives of Bethany and her baby depended entirely on what he did next. He tossed and turned as he tried to get some rest, but it was hopeless. His best friend, Eddie, was looming large again in his head. He'd landed him in this mess. It stuck in his craw that Eddie could have fooled him so much, and that thought just wouldn't fade away. Eddie's little game of deceit could cost Bethany's life and that of their unborn child. Somehow, Harry couldn't find it in him to forgive his friend.

He took his mind off the past by trying to recall the day that had just gone by. But it was a blur. Valuable time had been wasted doing nothing; just waiting for Oscar's call. The lids of his eyes were becoming heavier and soon he'd drifted off into another uncertain world where he'd even less control.

Harry was awoken by the tree frogs leading the evening chorus of the rainforest. A quick glance at the blank screen of his mobile confirmed he hadn't slept through any calls. He got out of bed and took a shower.

The last dabs of orange sky were dissolving into the night as he stepped onto the porch to take some air. Everything looked so perfectly peaceful as he clicked the buttons of his phone and connected to The Debeaumont. He spoke to Jake, the manager who'd been playing golf with Sampson earlier that day. Mr Underwood was now in Barbados and wouldn't be back for several days.

Did he know where his boss was staying? No, because he hadn't taken the message. Had anyone spoken to Mr Underwood directly? Just Mordecai Baptiste, came the reply.

It had just gone eleven when Harry entered Monty's bedroom and found him sleeping with Eden under a mosquito net. The rainforest nightlife was in full swing as he groped the wall for the light switch.

‘What the bloody hell do you think you're playing at?' shouted Monty, pulling the net away, his eyes blinking under the bright ceiling lights.

‘Wake up Eden, I need the keys to his van.'

The youngster, half awake, was relieved to hear he wasn't going to Marigot Bay with Harry anymore. He rubbed his eyes and mumbled that there was a company shirt and hat in the back of the van. He would also find a clip board and tool box there to help him look the part. Harry was to ask for Dexter and to tell him that he'd been sent by Eden to re-align the satellite dish. Eden tossed him the keys from the night table and told him he needed the van back by the afternoon.

Harry left the two of them alone, but returned a moment later, switching on the lights again.

‘Now what?' huffed Monty, his eyes blinking once more.

Harry bent down and reached under the mattress, grabbing an old snubnose .38.

‘You can't take that; it's mine.'

Harry ignored him and stuck it in the back of his waistband. He returned to his bedroom where he fetched the automatic that Oscar had given him. The time had finally come.

Eden's van was loose on the steering, but cruised along cheerfully on the moonlit road to Marigot Bay. Harry convinced himself that it would all work out. Angela Linehan would have to see it his way. There was no choice but to authorise the transfer of the money back to the Marottas. She could of course raise the alarm and have him killed, but he would tell her that if Nelson didn't hear from him on the hour, every hour, he had instructions to tell the Marottas where she was hiding. Even if she decided to go on the run again, Harry had already made it easier for the Marottas to find her. She had to realise the game was up, she had left too many tracks, and there would be no hiding place from that moment onwards.

Greed had been her downfall. Had she just stolen some of her husband's money, she might have got away with it, he thought. But she took more than she needed. Now she would have to pay for it by living in endless fear, her heart skipping a beat on every creak on the landing, or every car that backfired. The fear would gnaw away in her like cancer, each day de-humanising her little by little, taking away her spirit, her laughter and freedom. Ahead of her was a life of looking over her shoulder and trusting no one. The tentacles of the 'Ndrangheta were long, stretching from the dusty hills of Calabria to the plains of South America. They'd find her soon enough, as they would also one day find him.

Harry parked the van halfway up the hill in the same spot where he'd stopped the previous day. He switched off the lights and got into the back of the vehicle where he made himself comfortable for the night. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.