Red Crystal (49 page)

Nick nodded. So she had a friend with dark hair …

Another man was emptying tins of talcum powder on to a sheet of polythene. Three tubes of toothpaste lay waiting to be given the same treatment. In the bathroom cabinet a few items remained: a woman’s shaving kit, some medicines and ointments, suntan lotion. On top of the cabinet were bottles of half-used shampoo.

A sponge bag in a bright floral pattern lay on top of some boxed-in pipework beneath the sink. He unzipped it: nothing special.

A rubbish bin. He poked through it with one finger. Dirty face tissues, pieces of cotton wool, a razor blade, and—

His heart stopped with a thud.

He whispered, ‘
Jesus
!’

He reached slowly down and picked out an empty bottle.

The botttle had contained eau de cologne. Brand: Rocco. Made in Italy. Legend:
Per uomini
.

Nick thought: Don’t get excited. But he did.

It
couldn’t
be coincidence.

Holding the empty bottle by the neck he took it into the living-room and, catching Kershaw’s eye, held it up.

Giorgio brought food again in the evening. He put it next to the cheese and bread that remained untouched from the afternoon.

Victoria ignored him. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging. That was all in the past. She sat stolidly beside Henry and waited for Giorgio to leave.

But he lingered, standing by the archway, watching her.

She realized he wanted to talk.

‘Poor little Vittoria,’ he murmured. ‘Life is not so beautiful … But soon you will be home in your big rich house.’

She said unbelievingly, ‘I will?’

‘Of course. The pigs will give in. Completely. They have no choice.’

She’d imagined that the motive for capturing Henry was something to do with revenge. The idea of bargaining was unexpected. Glancing at Henry, she got to her feet and beckoned Giorgio into the main cellar.

‘What are you asking for?’ she whispered.

‘The release of our comrades. Free passage.’

Victoria felt a spark of hope. They weren’t asking much. The government was bound to give in.

‘And Henry? You’ll let him go free, won’t you? And you’ll let him out of that thing as soon as your people are free.
Won’t you
?’

Giorgio shrugged. ‘If the pigs do as we say … And in time.’

‘In time?’

‘They have twenty-four hours.’

‘And then?’

‘Then—’ He gestured a sudden explosion with his hands.

Victoria had a desperate need to know precisely what he meant. ‘Then
what
? What do you
mean
?’

Giorgio gave a small secretive smile. ‘The box will go bang. He will be dead.’

She gaped at him. Finally she breathed, ‘When?’

‘When we choose. Midday. Maybe before.’

A timer. A remote switch. Midday. Tomorrow. It wasn’t very far away.

She said, ‘You can’t – please say you
can’t
.’

Giorgio gave a short contemptuous laugh, as if such a question was unworthy of a reply, and, turning on his heel, climbed the steps and was gone.

Sick at heart, Victoria went back into the small cellar and resumed her seat next to Henry.

She felt him watching her.

‘What exactly did he say?’ he asked painfully.

It was impossible to tell him the truth. Already he was visibly more distressed than before. For the first time she saw fear and despair in his face. She smiled at him confidently. ‘They’ve made their demands – the release of their friends and safe passage. The government are
bound
to give in. It’s only a matter of a few hours, I’m sure.’

Henry frowned in concentration then closed his eyes as if a great weight of responsibility were descending on him.

Victoria repeated quickly. ‘They’re
bound
to give in.’

Henry whispered. ‘They shouldn’t. It would be quite wrong to do so.’

‘But – they
must
.’

Henry made a last effort to speak. ‘There’s no
must
about it …’ He trailed off and turned his head away.

Victoria sat back unhappily. He obviously wanted to be left alone. She had the awful suspicion that he might have overheard what Giorgio had said. In which case he knew about the twenty-four hour deadline. And the dreadful appalling timer on the bomb.

The knowledge brought Victoria to a decision. That she would stay with Henry. Whatever happened. She would not leave him alone.

It was a surprisingly easy decision to make. She thought: It’ll be the first decent thing I’ve done.

She sat close by the box, in case he should need her. After a while he dozed a little and muttered in his sleep. She kept a hand close to his shoulder to wake him in case he had a nightmare and started struggling to get out of the box. But finally the mutterings ceased and he slept.

She left her hand on his shoulder, for the slight reassurance it might give him, and because it made her feel closer to him. She was very calm, now that she had come to her decision.

At one point she stared at her watch. Eight in the evening.

Time was passing. Fast. The night would slip away, then it would be morning …

And here she was, totally helpless. Someone cleverer would think of something. But she wasn’t clever. No brains, no sense, never did have.

She made an effort to think everything through, calmly.

Removing her hand from Henry’s shoulder she got up and went into the main cellar. She looked up the steps to the door.

Think.
Think
.

He must be alone. Otherwise why had he come to chat? And why had he been so relaxed. He was never relaxed when the woman was around.

But was he
still
alone?

She climbed the steps and put her ear to the door. Nothing.

She tried the handle, just in case. It turned, but the door wouldn’t open.

Think.
Think
.

She would only have one chance. She mustn’t foul it up. At the worst the woman
would
be there after all, and would shoot her. At the best, she might escape and save Henry. Either way, it was better than sitting and waiting.
Anything
was better than that.

But when she tried to work out exactly how she was going to escape, her determination faltered. There
had
to be a way, but she couldn’t think what. The phrase ‘play it by ear’ came into her mind, and she clung to it as a temporary prop.

She listened again. Still nothing.

Then there was a sound. But it was only Henry, moaning softly. She heard him inhale deeply and guessed he was waking. She suddenly realized that she would have to tell him something.

She hurried back into the small brick cellar and knelt beside the box. He was awake, staring upwards, a look of faint horror on his face as if he’d just woken from a nightmare.

‘Henry?’ she whispered. He focused on her, the nightmare still in his eyes. She said, ‘I’m going to try to get out. Now, you mustn’t worry.’

He looked horrified. ‘Victoria, don’t do
anything
. I forbid it.’

‘I must, I’m sorry.’

‘But
what
are you going to do?’

‘Er. Well, I don’t quite know …’

He sighed with exasperation. ‘Victoria, these people will
kill
you. Without a second thought. I forbid it. It can only make things
worse
.’

She touched his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, Henry …’

Before he could speak again she got up and, taking the water bowl, emptied the last of the contents into a corner.

‘Victoria?’ Henry’s voice was urgent, pleading.

She took a last look at him, the pale haggard face showing in the window of the obscene coffin-box, and her stomach lurched. She cried, ‘I’m sorry, Henry. For everything. I really am … so sorry.’

She turned quickly and, holding the empty bowl in her hand, climbed to the top of the steps again. Taking a deep breath, she beat on the door.

N
ICK SHOUTED INTO
the phone, ‘It’s very urgent!’ then held the receiver away from his ear. The babble of voices boomed down the wire. He waited impatiently. This was the fourth restaurant he had tried. The flatmate hadn’t been certain which one Diana Danby had gone to and had named five or six possibilities. Each restaurant appeared to be staffed by Italians who took a maddening delight in failing to comprehend straightforward English.

But it was worth trying. This girl, Victoria Danby’s sister, might have some idea of where she was.

He waited for what seemed like a long time, but which was actually four minutes. Around him was the clatter and buzz of the incident room where a team – now more than fifty strong – was based. Someone at the next desk shouted across the room. Nick flinched; all noise seemed unnaturally harsh. It was the tiredness. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so tired in his life.

He pressed the receiver back to his ear. Finally he heard a clunk as someone picked up the phone at the far end.

‘Hello?’ It was a female voice.

‘Miss Diana Danby?’

‘Speaking.’

With relief Nick introduced himself. ‘I need to find your sister, Miss Danby. She’s not at her flat. Have you any idea where she might be?’

‘Oh gosh! She’s not in trouble again, is she?’

‘Miss Danby,
please
. Do you know where she might be?’

There was a pause and the clatter of the diners echoed down the wire. ‘Oh dear, I can’t
think
… Quite honestly, I haven’t seen her for a while … I mean, I only know about her
flat
…’

‘What about boyfriends?’

‘She didn’t tell me about any. Not new ones, anyway.’

‘Relatives. Friends. Anybody—?’

‘She used to be involved with a whole lot of people in a commune. Did you know that? Well, ever since then she’s been a bit on her own really. It all broke up, you know.
Maybe
she still sees some of them – the commune people, I mean. Have you tried them?’

‘No. What were their names?’

‘Oh. There were a couple called Martin and Janey, I think. But I never knew their
other
names … And as for the rest – no, I haven’t a clue, I’m afraid.’

Nick rubbed a hand over his face. This was getting nowhere.

‘But they might still be living at the farmhouse,’ she continued. ‘Though I’m not sure.’

Remembering Kershaw’s conversation with the mother, Nick said, ‘But I thought the farmhouse was sold?’

‘Oh no. Not yet. For some reason it didn’t sell. So it’s going to auction. Next month, I think.’

‘But your mother – she seemed very definite.’

‘Oh, she knows
nothing
about it.’ Her tone was scornful. ‘Don’t take any notice of what
she
says. It isn’t sold yet. I know it isn’t.’ There was a pause. ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

Nick had been miles away, thinking of the unoccupied farmhouse.

He gave Diana Danby the number of the incident room, in case she heard from her sister, and rang off.

He went straight to Kershaw and gave him the news.

The brief look of excitement that passed over the commander’s face was quickly replaced by one of anxiety. Momentarily, he plunged his face into his hands. He came up looking very tired. ‘It’s definitely worth a look, of course. We can mount a discreet watch on the place – but we can’t search it.’

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘I mean, I’ve had a directive from upstairs – and it comes from Downing Street itself. There’s to be a hands-off until negotiations have been successfully concluded and the Attorney-General safely returned.’

Nick sat down and tried to absorb the implications.

‘Surely we can approach with caution?’ he asked.

Kershaw looked uncomfortable. ‘Apparently we must do nothing that might jeopardize the situation …’

Nick sensed that the commander didn’t like the directive any more than he did. He shook his head. ‘Seems crazy to me, sir.’

Kershaw raised his eyebrows in silent agreement, and said heavily, ‘The argument is that if we go nosing around and the terrorists get wind of it, then – the feeling is that they are perfectly capable of murdering Sir Henry. And that mustn’t happen.’

‘But if the terrorists
are
there, then it would be a real chance for us to get the upper hand. Show ourselves.

Surround the place so that they realize there’s no point in killing anyone. In fact, it would be Sir Henry’s best chance of staying
alive
.’

‘Maybe. But would you like to be the person responsible for putting that argument to the test?’

Nick hesitated. The image of Lady Northcliff came into his mind. He saw her at the window, staring out into the garden, despair behind the pale composed face …

He nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I see what you mean.’

‘This is a new type of criminal, Ryder. And we don’t know how to deal with them yet. We can’t go blundering around finding out.’

‘But giving in entirely? Pandering to them? It’ll just encourage them! They’re not going to go away.’

Kershaw sighed, ‘I know, I know.’ He stood up and made for the door. ‘But don’t let’s get excited about anything yet. Let’s find out if there is anyone at that farmhouse first.’