11 - Ticket to Oblivion (18 page)

He indicated the door again. ‘Do you still intend to leave?’

‘No, George,’ she said, getting up and moving to the bed. ‘Come here.’

‘You told me that bed was awful.’

‘It is when I have to sleep in it alone.’

‘What about the stink of oil paint?’

She giggled. ‘I’ll hold my nose.’ When he crossed over to her, she raised a finger. ‘There is one condition, mind you.’

‘What’s that, Dolly?’

‘When it’s all over, please –
please
– give me another arm in the portrait.’

The change in their situation was so sudden and dramatic that it left both of them dazed. Imogen and Rhoda sat side by side in the room that they now shared and bewailed their fate. They were gullible victims of a plot. The man whom Imogen had trusted implicitly was no more than an unscrupulous fraudster with designs on her father’s wealth. As a result of his flattering letters with their well-chosen quotations from Shakespeare’s sonnets, she had been ensnared. She felt sick with grief. Rhoda, too, was wallowing in recriminations. It was her fault, she kept telling herself. Put in the privileged position of looking after her mistress, she’d instead helped to lead her astray. Rhoda was shocked at her own naivety. She was older, wiser and infinitely more mature than Imogen. The maid should never have allowed herself to be caught up in the fairy tale. Something else jabbed at her mind. Imogen was in flight from the tyranny of her parents and the horror of having to marry Clive Tunnadine. Rhoda, however, had regrets when she left. Vernon Tolley’s admiration of her was requited in her breast. In putting her mistress’s needs first, she’d had to forego her own interests. When she might have been encouraging the coachman, she was
instead entombed in a hotel room with an armed man next door.

‘There must be some way out,’ she said, rising to her feet.

‘We’re trapped, Rhoda. There’s no escape.’

‘Why don’t I try to distract Sergeant Cullen while you get away?’

‘How can I go anywhere when the door is locked?’ whined Imogen.

‘Bang on it until a member of staff comes,’ urged the maid. ‘I’ll keep the sergeant talking in the other room.’

‘It’s far too dangerous, Rhoda. In any case, where would I go? I have no money and I have no idea where we are. They’d come after me.’

‘Complain to the hotel manager. Ask him to call the police.’

‘You saw how far we drove from Oxford,’ said Imogen. ‘This place couldn’t be more isolated. Besides, I couldn’t endanger the manager by getting him involved. The captain and the sergeant both have weapons.’

‘At least we can
try
,’ insisted Rhoda.

Crossing to the door, she turned the handle and pulled as hard as she could. The door was firmly locked. She tugged away for a long time. All that she did was to produce a loud rattle and to tire herself. There was another consequence. The other door swung open and Sergeant Cullen stepped into the room.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded. ‘You were ordered to leave that door alone. Captain Whiteside will hear of this.’

‘Please don’t tell him,’ said Imogen. ‘We meant no harm.’

‘I know exactly what you meant. I’m on guard.’

‘We won’t touch the door again, I promise.’

‘I’m taking no chances. I’ll stay here with you.’

‘Give us some privacy, at least,’ said Rhoda, indignantly.

‘You don’t deserve it. If it was left to me, I’d stay in here all night with you.’ He smirked at Rhoda. ‘Wouldn’t you like that?’

Recoiling from his taunt, she went back to the sofa. Cullen sat on the edge of the bed and regarded them. He was a solid man of medium height with livid battle scars decorating a craggy face. The lilting Irish voice that had appealed to Imogen now grated on her ear. His earlier courtesy had shaded into a military brusqueness.

‘What’s to become of us?’ asked Rhoda.

‘Wait and see – it will be a nice surprise for you.’

‘You can’t hold us against our will.’

‘We didn’t need to at first,’ he said with a grin. ‘The captain tricked you into coming along of your own volition, so you did. Now wasn’t that a clever ruse of his? I didn’t have to guard you at all. You
liked
being here with us.’

‘Let us go,’ implored Imogen. ‘I’ll give you money.’

‘We can get far more from your father. You’re his only child. That puts a high price on your head. If he doesn’t pay up, of course …’

He had a smile like a gash in a ripe melon. They drew back as they realised the full implications of the threat that hung over them. Rhoda was frightened of the Irishman. Imogen tried to grasp at a final straw.

‘This is no way to treat someone in my position,’ she said with dignity. ‘We should be released forthwith. When the captain returns, I shall appeal to him as an officer and a
gentleman.’ Cullen went off into peals of laughter. She was deflated. ‘What is so amusing?’

‘It’s your description of Captain Whiteside,’ he replied. ‘First, he’s no longer an officer and second, he was never a gentleman. The both of you will find that out very soon.’

Their reconnaissance was thorough and it gave the detectives some idea of what was in store for them. From a vantage point on one of the hills, the kidnapper would have an excellent view of the dale and be able to see if anyone was trying to creep up on him. Fringed with trees and dappled by the sun, the location favoured someone who wanted to control the exchange of hostages for money before making a swift departure. On the train journey back to London, they had a compartment to themselves and could therefore consider their options.

‘I could get there early and hide in the trees,’ volunteered Leeming.

‘You don’t know in which part of the wooded areas he’d be lurking.’

‘I could use the telescope to find out, sir.’

‘Captain Whiteside will be using a telescope on you, Victor. He’ll scan the whole dale before he makes his move. There’s nothing else for it,’ said Colbeck. ‘We have to follow his instructions. The safety of the hostages is paramount. Once they’ve been returned, we go after Whiteside and this Sergeant Cullen.’

Leeming blenched. ‘Do we follow them on horseback?’

‘Can you think of a quicker way?’

‘They’re from a cavalry regiment, sir. They know how to ride.’

‘We can’t expect to overtake them, Victor. We just need to pick up their trail and follow them. When they’re well clear, they’ll think that their mission was a great success and they’ll relax. They won’t expect us to be so close behind them.’

‘Where will they go?’

‘Oh, they’ll have an escape plan worked out,’ Colbeck told him. ‘The chances are that the horses are hired from somewhere near a railway station, enabling them to hop onto a train and – as they think – make off with the ransom money.’

‘I’m still not happy about riding a horse, sir.’

‘We’ll find you a quiet mount this time.’

‘Where do you think they are at the moment?’

‘Well, as I told you, my feeling is that they’ve been somewhere in Oxfordshire all the time. The further they travelled with the two ladies, the more chance they had of being seen. They’d have prepared a hiding place well in advance,’ said Colbeck. ‘They needed to keep Sir Marcus’s daughter and her maid completely out of sight.’

The discussion continued all the way back to London and it distracted Leeming from the incessant din of the train and the rocking of their carriage. Though the evening was drawing on, they caught a cab and went straight to Scotland Yard. Tallis had departed but he’d left a message for them. It was waiting on Colbeck’s desk. Picking it up, the inspector read the letter with an approving smile.

‘The superintendent has been as good as his word,’ he said. ‘He made enquiries about our two suspects. Captain Terence Whiteside and Sergeant Manus Cullen did both serve in a cavalry regiment but neither of them has been anywhere near

the Crimea. The heroics with which the captain left Mrs Greenfield spellbound were pure invention. No doubt he told the same stirring tales to Sir Marcus’s daughter.’ He folded the letter to put in his pocket. ‘I thought it was Irishmen who were supposed to have the gift of the gab.’

‘Perhaps the captain has Irish blood, sir.’

‘He has the cheek of the devil, I know that.’

‘Women are so easily taken in.’

‘Don’t tell that to your wife or she’ll box your ears,’ said Colbeck. ‘In my experience, women have far more intuition than we do. Madeleine senses things that completely elude me. How easy is it to bamboozle Estelle?’

‘It’s near impossible, sir,’ replied Leeming with pride. ‘She’d have seen through all the nonsense that he fed to Sir Marcus’s daughter.’

‘Your wife doesn’t have the slightest intention of running away from home to some phantom paradise. Estelle is very happy with her husband and children. Imogen Burnhope, by contrast,’ said Colbeck, pointedly, ‘was not happy with her lot. She
wanted
to believe there was something better for her and that made her credulous. When she learns the truth, it will be a heart-rending moment.’

‘That’s all the more reason to catch this lying cavalry officer and his friend.’

‘They’ll be caught and roundly punished, Victor.’

‘Did the letter give you any idea where they’ve been living, sir?’

‘No – but if you find out, please inform the army.’

‘Why is that?’

‘They’re both deserters.’

Edward Tallis accompanied him to the bank then travelled back to Worcestershire with him in order to act as a bodyguard. Sir Marcus was carrying an immense amount of money in his bag and it never left his side throughout the two train journeys. In case of trouble, the superintendent had an old army pistol concealed in his valise. The other reason he went back to Burnhope Manor was to remind himself that he was still theoretically in charge of the investigation. Having telegraphed ahead to Shrub Hill, they arrived to find that a message had been taken out to the house. Vernon Tolley was waiting to drive them there.

The coachman did not have to guess what had happened this time. Sir Marcus and Tallis talked openly about the latest development in the case. All that Tolley did was to keep his ears pricked.

‘What if they don’t hand Imogen over?’ asked Sir Marcus, beset by anxiety. ‘What if she’s no longer alive?’

‘I feel certain that she is,’ said Tallis, confidently. ‘Without a live hostage, he has no bargaining tool. If we don’t see your daughter, no money will be given.’

‘He and his accomplice can live in luxury for the rest of their lives on the amount in this bag. Are you sure that Colbeck will be able to retrieve it?’

‘I am, Sir Marcus.’

‘It’s galling to be compelled to buy my own daughter back like this.’

‘Look at it another way,’ advised Tallis. ‘We’ve had hostages killed before now because their parents were either unable to afford the ransom or because they couldn’t pay it in time. Captain Whiteside will get his money on time.’

‘I look forward to his getting his just desserts.’

‘So do I, Sir Marcus. As an army man, I’m horrified that this whole affair is the work of two deserters. They were a disgrace to the uniforms they wore. If they’d been under my command,’ said Tallis, ‘I’d have had them tied securely to a cannon and given two hundred lashes apiece.’ He gave a grunt of satisfaction. ‘It was a punishment that had a tendency to discourage others from similar disobedience.’

Though they talked freely about the treatment that Whiteside and Cullen should receive, they never once introduced Tunnadine into the conversation because they’d agreed to differ on the subject of his punishment. Each man had his own position and neither would be shifted from it. Where they did side with each other was on the decision to keep him unaware of the second ransom demand. If he was not at the exchange, he couldn’t make another disastrous intervention.

When they reached Burnhope Manor, they waited until the coachman had put down the step and they alighted. Sir Marcus hugged the bag protectively as if it were a baby rescued from a house fire. The butler admitted them and they entered the hall to be welcomed by Cassandra and Emma Vaughan. A third member of the family had joined them. He darted forward to shake Sir Marcus’s hand.

‘Good evening, Uncle,’ said the curate.

‘What, in God’s name, are you doing here, Percy?’

‘I’m doing exactly what you just said. I’m here in God’s name.’

‘Percy wanted to offer his assistance,’ explained
Cassandra. ‘I wish that I could say the same of my other son but he disappeared off to London.’

‘George
would
have helped,’ said Emma, loyally. ‘He’s very brave.’

‘I’d prefer to put my trust in Percy.’

‘Why?’ asked Sir Marcus. ‘What does he intend to do?’

‘I intend to appeal to the kidnapper,’ said the curate. ‘When he sees that I’m a man of the cloth, he’ll know I pose no threat to him. I’ll reason with him. I’ll remind him of Christian teaching. I’ll talk to him so persuasively that he’ll hand over Imogen and her maid without asking for anything in return.’

Cassandra beamed. ‘Isn’t that a splendid idea?’

‘No, Mother,’ said Emma. ‘It isn’t. Percy will be in great jeopardy.’

‘He won’t be allowed anywhere near the kidnapper,’ said Tallis. ‘As soon as he sees that his instructions have been defied, the man will probably turn tail and run, taking the hostages with him. All that you’ll have done, Reverend, is to imperil your cousin and her maid. I can’t let you do that.’

‘Neither can I,’ said Sir Marcus.

‘But I’m the ideal person,’ argued Percy.

‘You heard the superintendent. You will not be involved.’

‘The exchange must be left in the hands of Inspector Colbeck,’ said Tallis. ‘He became Sir Marcus on the first occasion and will do so again.’

‘No, he will not,’ asserted Sir Marcus. ‘The kidnapper specified that I should reclaim my daughter and that’s
exactly what I’m going to do. Inspector Colbeck will not be required this time. I will take the responsibility myself.’

Tallis quailed at the prospect but his authority had been overridden.

Clive Tunnadine congratulated himself on making two wise decisions. He’d hired Alban Kee and he’d told nobody else about the ransom demand. There had been some difficulty in raising the money at such short notice but he’d browbeaten the bank manager and eventually got his way. The politician had declined Kee’s offer to act as a bodyguard, feeling that he could look after the money quite well on his own. He therefore dispatched the private detective to Crewe to get the lie of the land, intending to join him on the morrow. Tunnadine still felt vestigial guilt over the way that he’d assaulted Lucinda Graham. The flowers had acted as a balm and his apology had been accepted by her. Yet he knew it was not enough. Lucinda deserved to be wooed and cosseted. It would be the perfect way to take his mind off the tricky negotiations with the kidnapper that lay ahead.