Hider/Seeker (20 page)

Twenty minutes later Harry was lying on his bed staring up at a lizard on the ceiling beam. It didn't look like it was going anywhere and he wondered how happy it must be to have such few choices in life. If only he could stay in his bed and do nothing as well. That wasn't an option as he had to make plans. One wrong step now could prove fatal to both him and Bethany. How was he going to enter the compound? Abseiling out of the helicopter onto the moon lit roof of the villa was out of the question. The chopper's downdraught would shake everyone out of bed, and for all he knew she could be sleeping with one of the guards, adding a further problem. And with Sampson's aircraft out of action where would he find another chopper at this late stage? So that only left going to the villa on foot under the cover of darkness and scaling the wall. The security team she hired could be half a dozen strong; most likely ex-military Americans who'd probably seen combat in Iraq and Afghanistan.

He had no intention of setting foot in the place without seeing plans of the building first. Getting himself in would be the easy part. Getting her out of the compound under the noses of her hired hands would be the real challenge.

Harry checked his laptop for voicemail messages and found three. All from Nelson. His voice sounded shaky; something had happened to Beth; he was with Elizabeth. Harry glanced at his watch, it was midnight in the UK. He rang Elizabeth, she was still up. Harry could tell from her voice she was in shock. She kept asking why they would do such a thing, over and over. He waited for her to stop sobbing.

‘What have they done?' he finally asked.

‘It came in the post this morning,' she replied, ‘part of her ear.'

‘How do you know it's Bethany's?'

‘Because it had her earring on it – the one Ed gave her for her birthday. Why would they be so cruel?'

‘I don't know,' he said. But he did. It was a warning to him that they would carry out their threat if he didn't meet their deadline. ‘You need to pull yourself together Elizabeth.'

‘She's dead, isn't she?'

‘I'm certain she's not.'

‘This has gone on long enough, Harry. I've decided to go to the police.'

‘No. You do that and she's as good as gone.'

‘But no one's doing anything to get her back.'

‘I am. Trust me.'

‘All I do is sit by this blessed phone all day long. If I call the police –'

‘Don't. They'll kill her for sure. It's going to be all right. I'm working on something and it will all be over before you know it.'

‘You made that promise before and look what's happened.'

‘Elizabeth, get some rest, you're over tired. Can you put Nelson on?'

Nelson took the phone from her and filled in details about where the package was posted; all useless information.

Harry told him he'd found Angela Linehan and that he would soon put an end to everything. Nelson was to keep a daily check on Elizabeth and stop her from going to the police at all cost.

He put the phone down and began to consider his options. Only the sound of Bethany's voice would reassure him she was still alive.

Roberto Marotta answered his call. ‘I see you received our reminder?'

‘Anything happens to her,' said Harry, ‘and I'll put out a contract on you, using your twenty million.'

‘So you've found the money?'

‘I want to talk to her now.'

‘When are we going to get it?'

‘Very soon.'

‘Then I don't see we have anything to discuss.'

‘That's not how this is going to work. I need to hear Bethany is all right.'

There was a pause at the other end of the line, then a curt, ‘Ring back in an hour.'

An hour went by and he called again. He couldn't believe he was hearing Bethany's voice.

‘Bridger?'

‘Beth, Beth; you okay?' said Harry. He could hear her now crying.

‘I'm all right.'

‘What have they done to you?'

‘I'm all right, really I am. Can you get them what they want?'

‘Just a few more days and this will be over, I swear.'

There was a loud click and Roberto Marotta was back on the phone. ‘We're done.'

The line went dead.

Harry sat on the edge of his bed, his hand resting on the receiver; the same receiver from which he'd just heard Bethany's voice. He threw the phone to the floor. They'd harmed her and he wanted revenge. Anger was coursing through his veins once again and every bone in his body was aching. He would have trashed the room right there and then, but a knock on the door stopped him.

It was Mordecai Baptiste paying an unexpected visit. The big man was out of uniform and said he'd come over to see if he wanted to go out for a beer. Baptiste looked at Harry's downcast face and asked if something had happened. Harry shook his head and went to his bedroom to put on his shoes. He began wondering how long Baptiste had been standing outside on the porch before knocking. Had he heard any of the calls?

The Debeaumont had a bar on the beach that stayed open until midnight. Oscar had made it clear that all areas of the resort were off bounds to Harry apart from the beach at night. Baptiste was insistent about going there as there would be a cool breeze coming off the sea.

There were only a few guests sitting around the bar as it was disco night at the restaurant, up on the ridge. Baptiste grabbed two bottles of Piton from the barman and took them outside where a section of the beach was lit up by a row of burning bamboo oil torches. Harry was sunk in a wicker chair looking glum as he stared towards the open sea under the starry sky. The lapping waves sounded like slow hand claps – a well-deserved applause, he thought, for the mess he'd created.

Baptiste handed Harry a beer and sat next to him, admiring the same view. ‘That's something you don't have in London.'

‘I can't argue with that.'

‘You live near Oxford Street?'

‘Nowhere near it, thank God.'

‘It's the only street name I know there. My baby sister only talks about Oxford Street when she goes.'

‘You worked for Oscar long?' asked Harry.

‘Four years, since leaving the force.'

‘Miss it?'

Baptiste sniffed and took a sip of beer before answering. ‘I still hang out at my old station. My brother is an officer in the Special Patrol Group there – they still keep me in the loop.'

The big man didn't volunteer why he'd quit, so Harry lightened the mood. ‘It must have been a real wrench giving it all up for this,' opening wide both arms to the twinkling stars, the moonlit sea, and two blondes that happened to be walking along the beach.

Baptiste didn't appreciate being humoured and drank some more. ‘I guess I miss a sense of belonging. I spent eleven years in the southern division of the Royal St Lucia Police Force, building trust and understanding with the community. I miss that respect they gave me, you know?' Baptiste drank some more and then changed the subject.

‘How was your helicopter ride today?'

‘Tremendous. Best way to see the island.'

‘Where did you go?'

Harry didn't know what to say. ‘Up the coast and back.'

Baptiste gave a little chuckle. ‘Didn't seem to put you in much of a good mood when you got back.'

‘The highs and lows of life.'

‘Something in particular getting you down?'

‘My ex.'

‘When I got divorced, I found the best cure for getting over the bitch was a whore house. I know a good place; more fun than a helicopter ride that's for sure.'

‘I'll pass on that offer.'

‘You're crazy, man. Two minutes ride from here. Beautiful girls that make real good soup.'

‘Soup?'

‘Down here,' laughed Baptiste, holding his crotch. When he stopped laughing, he became serious, his smile was gone and his eyebrows became tense. The bi-polar mood swing caught Harry off guard and he gripped the beer bottle tight in case he needed to use it.

‘Isn't it time we drop all this bullshit, man,' said Baptiste, taking another quick swig from the bottle. ‘What are you planning to do with that boy in Castries?'

‘My son, you mean?'

‘I ain't dumb like Felix to swallow that crap. I was there the first day, watching you outside the school.'

‘I thought someone was snooping on me,' said Harry.

‘If he was your son, why did Mr Underwood go into the school and not you?'

‘If my ex knows I've found her, she'll run away with him again.'

Baptiste moved in his chair and put his big round face close to Harry's. ‘I saw your picture at the station. There are warrants outstanding in at least three countries, including the Guatemalan authorities. Everyone is looking for you.'

‘You're mistaken.'

‘My guess, you'll kidnap him to get his mother to pay up your share.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘I know who they are, man.'

‘Who?'

‘The boy and his mother – the ones that went missing. I've read the reports and all the newspaper stories online. She took all the money for herself, didn't she? Ran off without you. It was dirty money, wasn't it?'

‘What do you want Baptiste?'

‘You're a dangerous man to have around here. I hope Mr Underwood knows what he's doing. Hiding someone like you, he could lose everything, and I wouldn't have my job any more.'

‘If he's not worried, I don't see why you should be.'

‘Once a cop, always a cop.'

‘Ex-cop – and my guess a bad one at that too.'

‘Takes one to know one.'

‘Maybe I should call Oscar now,' Harry said, reaching for his mobile.

‘You do that I lose my job, man. It's the only work I'm ever going to get around here. If Mr Underwood boots me out, I'm sure not leaving quietly. I'll burn this damn place down and tell my brother at the station you did it.'

‘All right, Baptiste, make your point.'

‘I'm thinking a new Ford – a smart boat to go fishing; some money to buy fuel for the car and the boat. And a little bit extra to go to London to help my sister spend your money in Oxford Street. Sixty grand and I won't make any more trouble for you Mr Bridger.'

Harry woke up in the Ferrari, his back stiff and joints locked solid. He clambered out and took a deep breath of the early morning air, stretching his bones until they cracked. Harry couldn't risk staying at The Debeaumont after Baptiste blew his cover, and had left a message on Oscar's phone that he'd taken his car. He had to keep out of Baptiste's way until he dealt with Angela Linehan. A day or two more, his task would be completed and he'd be out of the island for good.

His mobile rang. It was Oscar returning his call. His tone sounded re-assuring as he told Harry not to worry about Baptiste as he knew how to handle him. He then moved on to what he'd found out in Castries. Architects he knew had no idea that someone had built a place on the hilltops above Marigot Bay and couldn't help. But drinks with a friend from the planning department on the waterfront proved more rewarding as his pal remembered the development going through with a lot of hassle. The only problem, he wouldn't be able to get his hands on the plans until the end of the week. Harry's heart sank. There was no choice, he'd just have to enter the compound blind without any idea of the layout. But then Oscar raised his hopes again after saying he had a stroke of luck on his return to The Debeaumont. One of the hotel cleaners had told him that her youngest son had done some work at a new house similar to the one he'd described.

An hour later, Harry drove out to a roadside cold drinks shack, north of Soufriere. He found Oscar there waiting for him, sitting behind the wheel of a vintage Saab 93B.

They drove in their separate cars up into the hills along a winding road until they reached two outcrops. There they parked their vehicles behind a van with
Livin Satellite TV
stencilled on the side. A path bordered by ginger lilies took them to a French colonial style house with green jalousies. No one answered the bell, so they made their way to the back where a pyjama striped lawn, bordered by tropical flowering trees, stretched out towards the sea.

Under a gazebo, a naked black man was posing with a fishing net as if hauling in a great catch. He was perfectly still, his young muscles flexed, and his shaven head bowed. Three yards in front of him, a fat white man in a Chinese silk robe was jabbing a paint brush at a canvas with considerable gusto.

The naked man dropped the fishing net in fright and ran inside the house.

‘What the devil's the matter with you?' shouted the older man, his brush poised in mid-air. The painter turned around to discover Harry and Oscar standing behind him.

‘Bloody hell, Oscar, you could have called first,' the fat man said.

‘Sorry but we were in a bit of a rush to see Eden.'

‘You scared the living daylights out of the poor boy.'

Oscar introduced Harry to Warren Montague, a retired London antiques dealer. Monty, as he was known to friends, sold his paintings on the island to tourists at a gallery in Rodney Bay as well as at a few selective hotels like Oscar's where he displayed his work. Harry wasn't interested in Monty and his eyes turned to the open doors where Eden had taken refuge.

Oscar asked Monty whether he could coax Eden back out of the house.

‘Darling it's a free world,' he replied, wiping his brush with a rag. ‘Eden can do what he damn well pleases in my house.'

‘You think he's coming back out again?' pressed Oscar.

‘Don't ask me, I can't read minds.'

Harry left the two men bickering on the terrace and went inside to find Eden. Everything in the house was white; walls, floors, furniture, even the two poodles skittering around.

Eden had already put on shorts and a tee shirt when Harry found him coming down the stairs, barefoot. The young man ignored Harry and returned to the terrace where he pulled up a chair to sit next to Monty, who had made himself comfortable on a sun lounger. Harry sat next to Oscar, ducking out of the way of the bananaquits flitting overhead.

‘I'd always intended to paint Eden – the fisherman,' started Monty. ‘Got up this morning and thought today's the day. Finally putting his magnificent physicality onto canvas. And we were doing so well, weren't we Eden? Until you lot turned up.'

Eden kept looking down at his feet the whole time Monty spoke.

‘Just got over my jet lag, as well.'

‘But he's not a fisherman,' said Oscar.

‘It's a conceptual thing, darling. Man struggling with nature to feed his family. Who's going to pay for a bloody painting of a man with a tool belt plugging in a TV to a satellite dish?'

Harry interrupted them. ‘We wanted to ask Eden something important.'

‘About what?' asked Monty.

Oscar sensed he needed to do something about the peppery mood of his old friend, and said in a calm voice, ‘Nothing to worry you.'

‘I'm sure it won't,' said Monty raising an eyebrow at Oscar. ‘Is he one of your old acting chums?'

Oscar got to his feet and said to Monty, ‘Why don't we leave these two alone and you can fix me a nice long cool drink – inside.'

There was a reluctance for Monty to leave Eden alone but the young man nodded it would be okay.

Once Oscar and Monty had disappeared into the house, Harry showed Eden photos of Angela Linehan and Peter. ‘Have you ever seen either of these two?'

Eden shook his head and handed the pictures back to Harry.

‘I was told you did some installation work on a big house in Marigot Bay during the past couple of months? The boy's mad about TV.'

No response.

Harry tried again. ‘A modern house, the shape of a squashed egg?'

‘Maybe, I have done work there.'

‘And you didn't see the woman or the boy?' asked Harry, flashing him the pictures again.

‘Rich people don't deal with the likes of me,' he sniggered. ‘I deal with their people, you know.'

‘I need to get in there.'

Not a flicker across the young man's face.

‘Do you think you could draw me a map of the place?'

Eden thought about it for only a second and asked, ‘How much?'

‘Two hundred bucks.'

‘Ain't worth it, man. I don't know what you're going to do to the woman and the boy.'

‘Three hundred, then?'

‘Double it.'

Oscar had strolled back out onto the terrace, holding a long fruity cocktail with ice. There was no sign of Monty.

‘Let me guess, Eden doesn't want to do it for you gratis,' said Oscar

‘Wants six hundred for a drawing of the place,' informed Harry.

Oscar stirred his drink with a straw. ‘Is your mother working at the hotel today, Eden?'

There was a reluctant nod.

‘Good. Maybe I'll tell her I bumped into you up here. Tell her how wonderful Monty's painting is. Very artistic. She'd be dying to see it.'

‘No, Mr Underwood. Don't do that –'

‘Why ever not, she thinks the world of you. Not so keen on Monty though, is she?'

‘Okay, I'll do your damn drawings, no charge, as long as you say nothing to her.'

‘That's my boy. Now why don't you get started on it,' suggested Oscar.

Eden went back indoors and returned twenty minutes later with hand drawn layouts on a sketch pad under his arm.

Harry examined them, asking questions about doors, stairways and accommodation. Then he added a further task for Eden.

‘Do you think you could sneak me into the grounds in your van?'

Eden shook his head. Then Oscar's eyes began to burn into him.

‘I don't know, man,' Eden said confused. ‘I did you the drawings, didn't I?'

Harry looked at the sketch of the house layout again. It was quite detailed. ‘How do you remember all this?'

‘Been there more than once. One of the men took me around the rooms.'

‘Does Monty know about this?' Oscar's lips cruelly curled up at the edges.

‘About what?' The boy looked confused again.

Harry didn't want the boy upset. ‘Can you make an excuse to check the satellite installation?'

‘Can tell them it needs realignment or some other bullshit.'

A thought crossed Oscar's mind ‘Supposing she's not there.'

‘Then I'll have to wait,' replied Harry. ‘With the boy coming home every day from school, chances are she'll be there.'

Oscar turned to Eden. ‘You won't let us down?'

‘No, sir.'

‘Let who down?' asked Monty, returning to the side of Eden again.

‘His mother,' said Oscar.

Now Monty looked as confused as the boy.

‘Any chance of Harry staying here a few nights?' asked Oscar.

‘Providing I can have another two walls for my paintings?'

‘The hotel is already chocka with your stuff,' protested Oscar.

‘Take it or leave it.'

Oscar turned to Harry. ‘That okay with you?'

He nodded.

On the way back to the car to pick up his bags, Harry pressed Oscar about how much trouble Baptiste might cause. His brother was a cop and he still hung out with other cops. That made him dangerous. Oscar told him not to worry. He had something over Baptiste and his brother that would shut them up.

Oscar fired up the engine of the Saab, and wound down the window. ‘WB Bank International in Castries is on standby.'

‘How much did you tell them?'

‘I'm leaving that up to you. Joe Buchanan who manages the bank is totally trustworthy. He's a good friend of mine.'

Harry nodded and said, ‘I'm going on a recce of the house this afternoon.'

‘Be careful,' he said, reaching into the glove compartment. ‘You might need this.' He pulled out a Glock 23.

‘Where did you get that from?'

‘We're all tooled up out here, even old Monty. His is hidden under the bed.'

‘When was the last time you used it?'

‘There's a range I practice at. It won't let you down, if that's what's worrying you.'

‘I'll think about it,' he said.

Oscar pushed the gun into Harry's hand. ‘Take it. Her security guards will shoot first and ask questions later.'