Deadly Diplomacy (33 page)

He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something putrid. This was just the kind of dive Roberts would frequent. Maybe he’d been renting a room here all the time? It would be cheap enough. And it would explain why he was never at home. How long had Roberts been in the police? Eighteen years? He shuddered to think what he’d got away with during that time.

Come on, Dave!
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited. But Belinda Harris’s blood-soaked body flashed into his mind again … the flies. His stomach turned just remembering the smell in that kitchen.
Poor kid!
He looked over at the motel again. What was he going to find in there? Jess and Susan? Alive or dead? He drew out his gun. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

As he went to get out of the car, headlights flickered in his rear-view mirror. He hesitated and sank down in the seat to watch. A saloon car drew up parallel with him, then turned right into the motel and parked outside a room with a light on inside. Sangster sat up as the car door swung open and a figure got out. The single, dim lamp over that room door picked out the man’s hair, his physique and clothes. He rapped on the door, then turned round…

“
A-ha!
” Sangster whispered to himself as he saw
that
face. “So that’s who’s behind all this.”

The room door opened slowly. Sangster strained to see who was inside, but he knew it
had
to be Roberts.

*

When Jess came round again, she was lying flat on her back. The burning acid in her stomach felt ready to explode. She gulped, desperate for some fresh air, but she could hardly breathe. She still had the smell of smoke in her nostrils. Opening her eyes, she could see nothing but darkness at first. But, as they began to focus, she became aware of a soft glow. Lifting her head, she saw the moon shining through a slit of a window near the ceiling.

Squinting, she looked about and found she was on a narrow bed. But it was the feeling of motion, a gentle rocking up and down and side to side, that made her struggle into a sitting position.

As a wave of nausea washed over her, she realised she was on a boat.

Except for the sound of creaking as the boat rocked in the water, there was nothing but silence. And no sense of forward motion, or engine noise. But an occasional shudder through the timbers suggested the boat was docked, and bumping against its mooring. Were they on the river, or the sea, she wondered?

Aware of pins and needles creeping into her toes, she rubbed her feet and drew her knees up to rest her groggy head on them. Flashes of memory started coming back… she was running down the street… the petrol station… the face… the raised arm.
Oh my God!

How did she get on this boat? She could remember a rumbling engine, being shut in, and being shaken around. Had she been in the boot of a car?

She heard a groan.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she went to stand up, but her feet flailed around in mid-air. That’s when she realised she was on a bunk bed, on the top. She lay back on her side, and peered down at the bottom bunk.

“
Susan!
” Her stomach turned. She’d been clinging to the hope that Susan had got away. Had she been in the boot of the car too?

Seeing a ladder, she shuffled towards it and put a foot gingerly on the top rung. Turning and slithering down, she dropped to her knees and shook Susan. But Susan didn’t move. She felt for a pulse at Susan’s throat. The beat seemed regular, but she was out cold.

Jess flopped down on the edge of the bed and rubbed her temples to ease the dizziness. Now, with her senses attuned, she could hear the low hum of traffic in the distance, and an occasional horn. But it didn’t sound like a car horn; it was more like a foghorn from a boat.

They had to be on Brisbane River, close to the city.

Another wave of nausea rose inside as pain shot through her head. She clapped her hand over her mouth, but couldn’t hold back the inevitable. Retching, she turned and heaved up the contents of her stomach onto the floor. With a shiver of relief, she sat back down on Susan’s bed to recover.

Now she could see they were in a small cabin, with only the bunk beds and wood-panelled walls. Disorientated, she saw a light switch. But she didn’t flick it on. If anyone was outside, she didn’t want to let them know they were awake. Then she saw a handle and pulled it. A small door opened; it was a locker. Then she saw what had to be the handle of the cabin door. She pulled it, gently. Nothing. She didn’t dare rattle it for fear of making too much noise. She tried again, but it was definitely locked.

Fighting to keep calm, she climbed back up the ladder and stood on the top bunk to look out of the slit-like window. Like a ship’s porthole, there was no way of opening it. And it was too dark outside to see anything but the moon and stars in the night sky. She flopped back down on the bed. So many thoughts crowded her mind. Why hadn’t he killed them? A quick bullet to the back of the head would have been easy. Why bring them here?

There was only one answer. He wanted the diary, and he thought they still had it.

And that gave them a chance.

She climbed back down the ladder. “Wake up, Susan!” she whispered, as she shook her. “Wake up!”

Susan groaned. “Jess?”

“Yes. Come on,” Jess whispered. “Sit up.” She dragged Susan up into the sitting position and pulled her legs down over the side of the bed. “Put your head between your knees.”

“My head’s killing me,” Susan moaned.

“
Shush!
Keep your voice down. He may be outside.”

“Where are we?” Susan whispered.

“Locked in the cabin of some kind of boat.”

Susan grabbed her arm. “I can’t breathe.”

“Are you hurt?”

“I hate being shut in.”

“It’s all right,” Jess soothed. “Try to focus on getting out of here.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. By rights, we should be dead now. The only reason we’re not is because he thinks we still have your sister’s diary.”

Susan flinched. “It’s still at my house.”

Jess shook her head. “Tom Sangster will have it now. I told him you’d hidden it in the bathroom cupboard. Remember? We put it back there when that maniac came for us.”

Susan’s face twisted in horror. “We’re dead if he finds out we haven’t got the diary.”

“He won’t find out,” Jess said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “And while he still thinks we have it, we have a fighting chance.”

“You reckon?” Susan sounded sceptical, but she rallied a little and looked around. “Where do you think we are?”

“Can you hear traffic?”

Susan nodded. “We must be on the river.”

“I can hear a foghorn in the distance. Do you think it’s the ferry?”

“Maybe,” Susan replied. “But they stop running at 10pm, and it must be the early hours of the morning by now.” She sat silent for a while. “Can you feel that bumping?”

Jess nodded. “I think we’re docked close to the city.”

“I’m trying to think where we could be.” Susan paused. “There’s a big dockside marina, and several floating docks in the area. Brisbane River is tidal, so many docks aren’t the permanent kind.”

Jess nodded, remembering Tom’s words last night.
A full moon? That means there’ll be a king tide tonight.
Would he find them, she wondered? She knew he’d be looking. And that gave her hope.

With a clearer head and eyes now accustomed to the dark, she looked around. Then she started searching the locker. Feeling her way, she found clothes, towels and some canned food and bottles.

“
Listen!
” Susan hissed.

Jess stumbled as the boat listed sideways. Someone had jumped on deck. Then she heard heavy footsteps and a sloshing sound. What was that smell?

Thinking fast, she pulled one of the bottles out of the locker. “Stand back, Susan.” Grasping the neck with one hand, she smashed the bottle against the ladder. Glass and liquid shattered and splashed to the floor. A strong smell of wine pervaded the cabin.

Jess touched the sharp, jagged bottle neck she was holding with the fingers of her other hand. She had a weapon.

“
Quick!
” said Susan as footsteps got closer. “
He’s coming!
”

Jess’s heart lurched.

Jess lay coiled like a spring on the top bunk, her heart pounding with fear. She heard a key click in the lock. As the door opened slowly, light flooded into the cabin from outside. Opening her eyes a fraction, she saw a dark silhouette in the doorway. A gun gleamed. Her hand tightened around the neck of the broken bottle, wedged under her leg.

He stepped inside and peered at them, as they lay pretending to still be out cold. Then he sniffed the air as if he could smell the wine, and turned to the locker.

Jess seized her chance. Sitting up, she put one foot on the edge of the bed, and sprang onto his back.

He staggered forward in surprise, hitting his head on the locker. With one arm around his neck, she yanked his head back and rammed the jagged glass into his throat.

With a wounded howl, he slammed an elbow into her ribs.

She fell winded onto the floor, dropping the broken bottle.

Susan jumped out of the bottom bunk, picked it up and plunged it into his stomach.

Time froze.

A shot rang out, and Susan slumped to the ground.

He stood over Susan, gun aimed at her head.

“
No!
” Jess dived at his feet.

As he toppled backwards onto the floor, his gun clattered to the ground and slid under the bunk beds. He rolled onto his side to reach for it.

Jess kicked him in his wounded throat to stop him.

He flinched with pain, and turned back to her.

“
Bastard!
” she taunted, knowing she had to divert him away from Susan.

His murderous eyes locked onto Jess.

Idiot!
She sneered.

His lip curled.

Jess scrambled to her feet. Rushing through the door, she found herself in a small galley. She grabbed the handle of a frying pan.

As he appeared in the doorway, she swung it with all her strength, hitting him in the face.

He went down again with a thud.

She ran towards some steps, climbed them on all fours and pushed open a door. A soft rush of air blew in her face as she stumbled outside and frantically looked around.

They were on a large sailing yacht.

She couldn’t see much in the darkness. The only artificial light came from a oil lamp positioned close to the wheel. She ran to the side safety rail. The yacht was moored at the far end of a floating dock, with a long walkway leading to the bank. “
Help!
” she shouted into the darkness. “
Over here! Help!
”

But her voice drifted away on the breeze.

She went to climb over the safety rail onto the dock, but her foot slipped on the wet deck. She went down with a thump.

Lying on the deck, she felt a searing pain through her right ankle. But what was that overpowering smell? She touched the deck and sniffed her fingers. Petrol? She gasped. Was he planning to set light to the yacht? And with her and Susan inside?

The door crashed open.

She scrambled to her feet, and went for the safety rail again.

“
Stop!
” he shouted, “Or I
will
shoot.”

She froze, then turned. It was the first time she’d seen his face properly. Long and thin, with drawn cheeks, his eyes were ice cold and distant. She could make out the dark bloodstain on his neck and shirt collar where she had plunged the glass into his throat. At that moment her mind became clear. She had to try and talk to him, to stop him killing them. It was their only chance. “You’re injured, DC Roberts,” she said, calmly. “You need help.”

He clutched his stomach where Susan had stabbed him with the glass. “Where’s that diary?”

Despite his injuries, he stood completely still. How badly hurt was he? Were his wounds just superficial? “I don’t know anything about a diary,” she said, “but I know you need help. Let me drive you to hospital and get those wounds treated.”

His glacial expression chilled her. “
You’re
in no position to help me.”

She looked over the railing at the dark, murky water. She might be able to jump over and swim away. But what about Susan? She turned back, she had to try to keep him talking. “You must realise you’ve been set up?” she continued.

His eyes narrowed.

“Look Roberts, your police colleagues
know
you killed Danny Burton, and Anthony Harris and his daughter.”

His voice was hard and uncompromising. “I’m
not
Roberts.”

“There’s no point denying it. They’re looking for you.”

“I
tell
you I’m
not
Roberts.”

Not Roberts? Who the hell was he then? But she let it go. “You didn’t kill Ellen Chambers, did you?” she said, reasonably. “You didn’t start this nightmare, but there’s no trail back to the person who did, to the person you’re protecting. He’ll get away with this because
you’re
the only person linked to all these murders. Don’t you
see
that?”

She saw the rage in his soulless eyes as her words hit home. He tightened his finger on the trigger…

“
Stop!
” A familiar voice boomed out. “Give
me
the gun.”

It was John Langhurst!

Jess’s legs buckled with relief and she sank to her knees.

He vaulted over the safety rail, onto the deck. “I said give
me
the gun!”

The yacht wobbled. The next movement was so quick, so unexpected, it took Jess by surprise. There was a scuffle. The gun fired. She heard a gasp as Roberts toppled over the side and splashed into the water.

Grabbing the railing, she looked over.

Roberts’ eyes locked onto hers.

Trance-like, she watched those murderous eyes sink beneath the dark water. He made no sound, not even a splash or a ripple as he disappeared. She stared at the spot, expecting him to burst to the surface again… and waited.