Some Day I'll Find You (40 page)

‘That’s a part of the story that will have to wait, I’m afraid.’

‘Yes . . . well, I think I can guess that bit, actually, Diana. But you’re right, it can wait. First, we need to get Stella back from that bastard.’

Shortly before midnight, Oliver was rummaging for his passport inside the bedroom safe. ‘Got it!’ he announced triumphantly to his wife, who sat on their bed
watching him. She was in a state of complete bewilderment.

‘James Blackwell is
alive
?’ she asked him for at least the third time.
‘
It simply can’t be so, Oliver. Are you sure Diana hasn’t lost her
mind?’

Mr Arnold shook his head. ‘No, she’s lost her daughter.’ He crossed the room and tossed his passport into the leather valise Gwen had packed for him. He spoke over his shoulder
to her as he secured the buckles on the bag.

‘I knew something was amiss down there. I’ve known it for weeks, as I’ve been trying to tell you. It all makes sense now. Diana was asking the strangest questions about James
as long ago as April.’

He snapped the brass catches closed, then looked around him.
‘
I’m sure I’ve forgotten to pack something. I suppose it’ll come to me. Anyway, Gwen, Diana’s
only had time to give me the gist tonight, but it seems as if James was only ever one of the walking wounded. Not dead at all.’

‘But, how Oliver? He was shot down.’

‘He told Diana he got out of his plane at the last moment, and promptly deserted. He’s been holed up in Provence ever since, and by the sound of things he’s turned into the
Devil’s Disciple.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ his wife said after a few moments. ‘I’ve never thought of him as anything other than a hero, like John. You too, Oliver, come to that. But a
deserter . . .’ She looked utterly bemused. ‘And why in heaven’s name would he abduct his own daughter?’

‘I honestly don’t know. It all sounds horribly confused. Something to do with the Nice Mafia and debts. The point is, Douglas won’t stump up the ransom, even though he could
afford it more than I can. It’s the old puritan in him, I suppose; he doesn’t think it right to reward evil and avarice under any circumstances whatsoever. I hesitate to pass judgement
at this distance, but I think the man is being a total idiot.’

He looked around him. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi to take me straight to London tonight. I’ll sleep at the club and be at the bank when it opens and rendezvous with Sir Richard. Then
I’ll go straight to Croydon aerodrome and meet Bunny, bless him. Isn’t he terrific to step into the breach like this?’

The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be my taxi. Kiss me, Gwen, and wish me luck.’

He was hurrying down the stairs when he stopped and turned around. He had remembered what it was he’d forgotten to pack.

Stella sat up on her narrow bed. She was wide awake, and heard the quiet snick of the hall door being opened, and the dull thump as it closed again.

She had had only one visitor since she heard her father leave the flat.

At least three hours ago now, a thin man with greying hair had let himself into the bedroom. He hadn’t spoken to her, but carefully placed a cardboard box and a chamber-pot on the floor.
He nodded politely to her before leaving again, locking the door behind him.

She’d scrambled over to the box. It contained a ham sandwich, a bottle of water and an apple. Inside the chamber-pot was a roll of shiny toilet paper.

That was all.

Now she could hear low voices murmuring in the room beyond. A crack of light shone under her door. She slipped across, lay down and pressed her ear against it. It was no good. She couldn’t
make out what they were saying, although she was certain they were speaking in French. She scrambled away from the door and looked at the chamber-pot with distaste. Like it or not, she would soon
have to use it.

She unwrapped her sandwich from its greaseproof paper. The insides of her cheeks prickled and her stomach growled. She realised she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Hunger overwhelmed her and
she tore the bread and ham into rough chunks with her fingers, stuffing them into her mouth and washing them down with the bottle of water.

The apple followed, core and all.

Stella had sharp, white teeth. She sucked the remains of her supper from them and licked her lips.

Whatever the morning brought, she decided that, given half a chance, she would use those teeth on her father. She would bite him harder than he had ever been bitten before, by man or beast. She
would teach him to trick her and kidnap her and lock her in a stifling room with a disgusting chamber-pot.

She would mark him. She would mark him for the rest of his life.

Not for the first time that night, Stella felt herself trembling. Not with fear, but with fury.

Diana was at Nice airport in time to see the little twin-engine aeroplane carrying her father touch down in the early-evening sunshine. She waited in the cramped wooden
Arrivals hut while he went through Passport and Immigration, which were at the back of the shed. He saw her and smiled reassuringly as he had his papers stamped. Then he was taken aside by customs
officials. Diana’s heart sank.

If they found the money, it would be over before it had even begun.

The officers were about to inspect her father’s bag, when he spoke quietly to the senior man, and reached inside his jacket. Diana thought she caught the glimmer of an envelope before it
disappeared from view.

The next moment, Mr Arnold was being waved through and she was rushing into his arms.

‘You did it! You did it! They didn’t find the money?’ She kissed his cheek and grabbed his arm, steering him outside towards the airport’s tiny car park.

‘Sshhh! Keep your voice down. Yes – well, they didn’t find the money that matters, at any rate. Thank goodness I remembered what I call my travelling francs as I left the Dower
House. The stuff from the bank is in the largest denominations we could find. That wouldn’t have gone down well just now at all. So hello, Diana. What news?’

‘I think everything’s under control. Douglas was furious when I told him you were flying down with the money. He thinks we’re being unutterably foolish. He’s put his
faith in a couple of private detective agencies. He’s spent all day with them, trying to persuade them to take the job. I don’t think he’s having much luck. He’s certainly
no closer to finding out where Stella’s being held.’

‘Hmm, even so, he may have a point, you know.’

‘No, he doesn’t, Daddy! He doesn’t
begin
to understand about James, what he’s capable of. Here we are, this is my car. Get in. I want to show you
something.’

Mr Arnold tossed his valise onto the back seat of the little Citroën as he settled into its front passenger seat. His daughter climbed in on the other side and rifled through the
car’s glove box.

‘Here. Read this. It’s from a great friend of mine. She has a stall in the flower-market. She was married to a Manchester man so her English is pretty good.’

By the time Diana had navigated her way on to the Promenade des Anglais, her father had finished reading Hélène’s letter.

‘I see.’ He tilted his head back and gave a low whistle. ‘I really never would have suspected this about James, I have to say. I’ve been thinking about him most of the
way down here, trying to remember if he ever gave the smallest hint of what he was really like, even then. I can’t think of anything at all. Can you?’

She shook her head. ‘Nope. I thought he was wonderful. Sweet and funny and brave . . . it’s extraordinary. D’you know what he told me the last time we met? He said he only
pursued me because he saw me as an “opportunity”.’

Mr Arnold looked across at her. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. But I don’t see how any of us could have known any better. He was so charming and – well, convincing.’

‘Convincing?’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘He’s convincing all right. Wait until you meet him later. Talk about the Two Faces of Janus.’

‘What do you mean, when I meet him later? What about Douglas? Surely he’ll admit defeat with his detectives and come home to help us out?’

Diana swerved over two lanes of evening traffic to position herself on a slip road that gave access to the Negresco. She took a moment to reply.

‘I don’t want him helping us out. I’ve told him that when he gets back from his pointless assignations, he’s to keep right out of it. I’m in charge now.’

She pulled up outside the hotel and a uniformed valet hurried to park their car. ‘Let’s go inside, Daddy. We’ve a little time before it has to be done.’

Mr Arnold took his daughter’s arm in his as they went up the steps to the lobby. ‘And what exactly is to be done, Diana? I’m still rather in the dark, you know.’

‘I’ll explain inside,’ she told him. They reached the hotel’s revolving door. ‘But the top and bottom of it is that you’re delivering the ransom, Daddy, and
I’m collecting Stella.’

By the time Oliver and Diana had been served their drinks in the lounge of the Negresco, Mr Arnold was a little clearer.

‘Let me be correct about this. I go to,’ he consulted the card Diana had given him, ‘this address in an hour, meet James, and give him the money.’

‘Yes,’ said Diana. ‘He’ll then make a telephone call, in front of you, ordering Stella’s release. You will both stay in the room until the phone rings. It will be
me, telling you that Stella has been delivered to me here in the hotel by one of his goons. Which means it’s over. The whole rotten, revolting business will be over.’

‘Hmm.’ Mr Arnold sipped his drink. ‘Will it, I wonder. What’s to stop this odious man from persecuting you all again?’

His daughter stared at him. ‘Surely he wouldn’t. I mean, this is a unique situation, isn’t it? Once he’s got the money he needs to buy his way into the Mafia, we’ll
be shot of him, won’t we? Come on, Daddy, he can’t keep kidnapping Stella every time he needs a sack of money!’

‘Perhaps not. I hope not. I definitely hope not.’

A bell-boy approached them. ‘
Madame?
The telephone for you.’

Diana jumped to her feet. ‘This is it.’

Two minutes later she was back, her face suffused with relief. ‘I just spoke to Stella! She said she was fine, absolutely fine. Oh, thank God, thank God! James was running the whole
conversation, obviously. He says he’s leaving now for the address I gave you. It’s his private club, apparently. He says he’ll be there in five minutes, so you may as well leave
now too.’

‘Hang on,’ said her father. ‘Who’s looking after Stella?’

‘The henchman who’ll bring her here. Stella said he brought her some food last night. It’s extraordinary, Daddy, she doesn’t seem frightened at all. Just
furious.’

Mr Arnold stood up. ‘Well, that’s a good sign, anyway. So the next time you and I speak, Stella with be safe and sound here with you, correct?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Did James say what I was to do when I get to the club?’

‘I almost forgot! You’re to ask at the desk for a Mr Walker, and you’ll be shown up. James has taken a suite of rooms right at the top of the club so you won’t be
disturbed.’

‘How thoughtful of him. Well, I’ll see you both later, then. You’re not to worry, Diana. Everything’s going to be fine.’ He kissed her cheek and walked to the
taxi-rank outside the hotel.

He kept his bag close to his side.

The club was a few minutes’ walk from where Stella was being held, and James moved swiftly through the streets. His wrist was bandaged and throbbing painfully, and his
face was marked with what looked like the bites of an animal.

Little cow. He’d taken the trouble to go into her room to reassure her that she’d soon be back with her mother, but the moment he entered she’d flown at him like a spitting
cat, knocking him backwards through the doorway into the lounge. They’d rolled over and over on the floor, her jaws clamped to his wrist and her fingers trying to gouge his bloody eyes out.
When he’d managed to get her off him she’d pretended to give up, only to come flying back at him under his guard, sinking her teeth into his cheek and nose. She was unbelievably strong
for a ten year old, and a girl at that.

It was lucky one of his bagmen, Claude, had been with him or he might have had to do Stella some serious damage to get her under control. His man had managed to drag her away by the hair and
manhandle her back into her cell. She’d still been kicking at the locked door when he left. The whole ruddy flat was shaking. He couldn’t wait to be shot of her.

Next time – oh yes, there’d be a next time all right, especially after that little performance – he’d use the chloroform.

Mr Arnold knocked on the door of the suite. It was at the very top of the private members’ club, tucked away behind some back stairs. He turned to thank the man who had
shown him up, but he had already silently disappeared.

James Blackwell opened the door. ‘Come in, Oliver.’

Mr Arnold was surprised – almost shocked – at how little the younger man had changed. He hesitated, gathering himself before entering the room. He noticed a bottle of champagne with
two glasses set on a table in the centre of the room.

‘Celebrating something, James?’

The other man turned from closing the door.

‘Yes, actually. Thanks to you, tonight I get to join the most exclusive, powerful organisation in Nice. I’m going to be richer than even you soon, Oliver. The least I can do is offer
you a drink. How are you, anyway? You’re looking well. Younger than I was expecting.’

He extended his hand, but dropped it again after a few moments.

‘As you wish, old boy. Just trying to be friendly. Would you wait a moment, please?’

James went to a telephone on the same table as the champagne and picked it up, jiggling the cradle with his forefinger. After a moment he spoke into the receiver.

‘This is Walker. On no account whatsoever am I to be disturbed. I don’t want anyone coming up here for the rest of the evening. I may spend the night here, and unless I specifically
ring down for something, no one is to come up. Is that clear? Good.’ He hung up.

‘There. We shan’t be interrupted.’ He gestured to two armchairs on either side of an unlit fireplace, and the two men sat down opposite each other. ‘You really
are
looking well, Oliver. Almost the same as when I last saw you. My wedding day.’