The Stealers (19 page)

‘Jack, I'm sorry… '

‘Daniella,' Crane gasped, ‘where are you?'

‘At your place. It was supposed to be a surprise visit. Look, I don't know what's going on but… '

Bradley snatched the phone away and said, ‘Now, Crane, you listen to me and do as you are told if you want your attractive playmate to stay in one piece.'

‘She's got nothing to do with… ' Crane began.

‘That's where you are wrong. She is now involved and has everything to do with this.'

‘If you want to talk hostages, I've got Mullah and his lot right here at his chateau.'

Bradley was unfazed by this and said, ‘That's your decision; I'm telling you what I will do if you do not cooperate. Your cottage; it's so quiet and peaceful, miles from anywhere, so to speak. I expect you could get away with anything here without ever being disturbed, am I right? So, what's it to be?'

Crane knew he was right. His mind raced for a few seconds until he received a prompt from Bradley, ‘Well?'

‘What do you want me to do?'

Bradley was enjoying himself as he said, ‘Leave Mullah's Chateau du Lac right now and simply, come home. Mac will contact me when you leave. Meanwhile, your friend will be tucked away in a place where nobody can find her, so if anything happens to me – she'll die, so don't try any tricks or get in touch with the police or anybody.'

Daniella's eyes flashed defiantly at Bradley, ‘Perhaps you can find the time to tell me what this is all about.'

Bradley sat on the edge of the kitchen table sipping cola from a can and looked disdainfully down at Daniella, who sat on a chair nearby. Her hands were securely tied behind her back. A dog collar, with a two metre length of chain attached, had been placed around her neck. Her movements were restricted. He was in control and could move her around and secure the fetter wherever he wanted. She was helpless; he could lead her around like an animal.

Daniella was furious inside, but tried not to show it and maintained a steady calm; she repeated her question. Eventually Bradley answered curtly, ‘I took his car and he got in my way; nobody gets in my way! End of story.'

‘What are you going to do when Jack gets here?'

‘I haven't quite made up my mind about that. Anyway, why should I tell you?'

Daniella shrugged, ‘It will not be pleasant, no doubt.'

Bradley sneered and said, ‘I must make preparations for your stay,' and he walked out of the room.

*

In the hall of the Chateau du Lac, Girard had been collecting the motley bunch of villains that they had overpowered. Through the open door, he saw Crane standing motionless by the phone in the main room. Crane had remained transfixed, Bradley's message and threats whirling around his head. When he saw the Frenchman, looking at him through the door, he flicked his head, motioning Girard over towards him. Crane told him what Bradley had said. Girard thought for a moment, ‘There is only one thing to do; I will phone the gendarme and get them here. They can see for themselves the missing children. I will of course stay and make sure it is done and then, well… the police, they can do what they like with me.'

Crane looked at him and nodded his approval, understanding the sacrifice the Frenchman could be making. He went upstairs and unlocked the room where Penny and the children were being held. Upon seeing Crane, Sammy came rushing up. He bent down and the small girl threw her arms around his neck, ‘I'm so happy to see you, Jack. I told Penny you'd come. Is it nearly time to go home?'

Crane stroked her hair gently and said, ‘Very soon Sammy,' and with a hug she went back to join the other children. Penny looked at Crane, ‘I've been worried sick about Girard. When he escaped from the van… those two men, is he… '

‘He's okay,' Crane interjected, ‘he's downstairs on the phone to the police.'

Penny let out a sigh, ‘Thank goodness for that.' She seemed to melt with relief.

But Crane suddenly looked solemn, ‘Your sister, Jean...' he began.

Penny's eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly in expectation, as Crane continued. ‘She died three months ago, I'm so sorry.'

Penny's eyes filled with tears as she whispered, ‘Bradley?'

Crane nodded, ‘Mullah told us that she is buried somewhere in the grounds of this chateau estate. Apparently she wouldn't sign a letter that Bradley typed, so he killed her and forged her signature. She was trying to protect you.'

‘So, that letter wasn't her doing after all.'

She clung on to Crane for a moment and in an attempt to offer some comfort, he put his arms around her. She sobbed bitterly whilst resting her head on his shoulder. Between tears she said, ‘First my sister and then my brother.'

Crane stood there for some minutes before saying gently, ‘I've got to go soon. In an effort to get at me, Bradley has got hold of someone that I know who is very dear to me.'

Penny straightened up and reached for a tissue, ‘You must go then. I hope he pays dearly for what he has done.'

‘He will if I have anything to do with it.'

Crane went downstairs. Girard, gun in hand, was still on the phone to the gendarme headquarters in Boulogne. The Frenchman cupped a hand over the phone and said, ‘You had better go, if the gendarmes find you here your departure could be delayed.'

Crane felt a sticky patch as they shook hands and noticed a dark area on the sleeve of Girard's jacket: it was blood. ‘Are you sure you are alright?'

The Frenchman managed a weak smile and said, ‘Yes, I'm fine, go on and take care,
mon ami
.'

Crane left the chateau and walked to the Rover; it was still parked in the place where he had left it. He got into the car, turned the key and the oversized engine roared to life. Listening to the beat of the engine ticking over, he reached inside the glovebox for the mobile phone; the battery was flat, so he plugged it into the dashboard before he drove off. He guessed it should take no more than four hours to get home, providing he could get a channel crossing through the tunnel. This would make it early afternoon when he would reach home and hopefully have time to somehow do something to stop Bradley.

*

Daniella heard the front door of the cottage close and then the muffled sound of a car starting up. This was her first, and maybe only, chance to try and escape. She sat, tied to a wooden dining chair, and with the uncomfortable collar and chain still around her neck. The other end of the chain was coiled around the leg of a heavy solid oak table. Her hands were bound at the back of the chair and her legs and waist securely tied to the seat, keeping her static.

Daniella gradually shuffled the chair closer to the table. She tucked her bound legs and feet under the cross member of the table and managed to raise it slightly. She then began to jostle it. The continuous movement caused the chain, which was looped around the table leg to gradually fall to the floor. However the chain still remained attached to the bottom of the leg and the work was tiring.

The next part was more difficult; she had to lift the corner of the table and at the same time, shuffle backwards on the chair to get the chain from under the leg. She was aware that too much movement could cause the chair to slip back and she might be strangled by the pull of the dog collar. Daniella made several attempts, but at last she was successful. Now she could stand, albeit leaning forwards as well as being tied to the chair. She hopped and hobbled on both legs towards the knife stand, then bent forward and knocked the stand over with her chin so that it lay flat on the work surface on one side. She turned around and grabbed hold of one of the blades. It took some time to manoeuvre the knife on the work surface into position and, with restricted movement, slowly, very slowly she hacked away at the bonds on her wrists until, at last her hands were free and she could use them to finally cut the rope that was binding her to the chair.

Daniella removed the dog collar and rubbed her sore red wrists and neck. Looking at the kitchen clock she noted that Bradley had been gone for an hour.
“He could be
back at any time,”
she thought fearfully, as she grabbed hold of her handbag and ran towards the front door. She turned back the latch and was about to swing the door open when the sound of Bradley's car pulling up outside nearly made her heart stop. Easing the door shut, she hurried through the passage towards the rear door and stepped out into the garden.

Once more, with legs shaking, she ran along the path adjacent to the lane, ignoring the small branches that swished into her, and stopped breathlessly when it came to an end. She would now have to get into the lane and run like hell for the last fifty metres to reach the main road and maybe safety. She hoped that Bradley did not beat her to it.

Still breathing heavily, Daniella stepped into the lane and made a bold dash for the main road. As she neared the end of the lane, the throaty roar of an engine coming up from behind spurred her on. She knew he was catching up.

At last she turned into the main road. Suddenly a feeling of hope surged through her as a single decker bus flashed past and slowly pulled up at a stop a few metres ahead. The bus driver caught sight of Daniella in his mirror as she was running and panting towards his vehicle so, with a deft flick of his thumb, he had opened the automatic doors in expectation. Daniella was exhausted as she reached the door, but she somehow found the energy to clamber aboard. The driver, smiling gently at the expression of relief on her face, pressed the button to close the doors. If the driver had stayed looking in his rear-view mirror a split second longer, he would have seen Bradley, face contorted with rage, chasing along the pavement after her. However, the driver knew he had checked the road and nonchantly put his vehicle into gear and the bus pulled away. Daniella flopped into a seat shaking, exhausted and gasping for air but with the deep satisfaction inside her: she had made it!

*

The police from Boulogne wasted no time in reaching Chateau du Lac. Three police cars and a van arrived in quick succession. Girard had called Penny and the children from upstairs and bade them to sit and wait on chairs outside whilst he kept a watchful eye on Mullah and his cohorts.

Two of the armed policemen entered the building and one of them relieved Girard of his weapon. The detective in charge stood outside and was taken aback when he saw Penny with the missing children. Using her best French accent Penny explained how they came to be there.

‘This is fantastic,' the policeman exclaimed, ‘they have been missing for over a week and we were beginning to fear the worst.'

‘It's all down to Girard, it would never have happened without him and an English gentleman.'

‘English gentleman, where is he?'

‘He had to go back home to England. One of the perpetrators is holding someone he knew as a hostage.'

‘I hope he is successful. I would like to meet him if that is possible.'

‘What about Girard, I mean, he's a wanted man isn't he?'

‘Not any more, at least not by us. We discovered the truth about the criminal activities of the men who framed him, but alas, the Foreign Legion may see things differently.'

As they were speaking, one of the police cars pulled into the drive with a half-naked man sitting in the back seat. They had found him lying bound up, exactly where Girard described, deep in the woods a little further down the lane.

Mullah and company were handcuffed but, as they were shepherded into the van, Girard exclaimed, ‘One of them is missing,' and looking around he said, ‘the woman, Louise – she's not here.'

A look of concern spread across Girard's face when he noticed that the housekeeper, Louise, was not amongst Mullah's little group. Thinking back, he realised that she had not returned from using the toilet and reasoned that she must have escaped through the toilet window. He mentioned this to the Detective Inspector in charge and together they walked around the side of the chateau and discovered the toilet window to have been left wide open. A set of footprints in the grass led to the old World War Two concrete bunker. The door was shut and locked from the inside. Girard called out her name in a taunting voice, ‘Louise, are you there? It's time to leave.' But there was no response. He turned to the detective, put a finger across his lips and said quietly, ‘One moment.'

The detective registered a puzzled expression and watched with curiosity as Girard walked over to a nearby cluster of fruit trees – which grew within an unkempt small orchard. Branches hung low and were sagging, heavy with over-ripe fruit. Girard cast his eyes around the trees and soon found what he was looking for, a dead branch about two metres long, drooping so low that it was almost touching the ground. Snapping it off, he slowly moved towards another tree that had a large oval shaped bees nest suspended from one of its lower branches. Very carefully he expertly reached out with the stick and gently removed the swarming drone hive from its resting place.

Within a few minutes he was outside the bunker with his buzzing bundle gently singing an old Maurice Chevalier tune, but slightly altering the words, “Every little bee seems to whisper Louise,” much to the amusement of the detective. He called out once more, ‘Are you there, Louise?' Once again there was no response, so standing on tiptoe, he pushed the nest through the opening. Within seconds, a yell and a terrified scream resounded throughout the concrete bunker and frantic hands scrabbled at the door until suddenly it burst open. The shocked woman stood before the two men with her hands frantically whirling and thrashing about her.

‘
Ahh! Voila
– Louise,' Girard said in a mocking tone, and extending an introductive hand towards the detective added politely in his best French, ‘may I introduce you to Detective Inspector Laronde?'

They walked back to the chateau and Louise was bundled into the van with the others.

Penny was about to accompany the police back to headquarters to give a full statement but, upon seeing Girard, she ran over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Beaming widely he sighed heavily and said slowly with some deliberation, ‘I shall never wash that part of my face again.' And with that, he collapsed onto the ground.

*

Daniella slumped deep into the padded bus seat. There was enough breath left in her to produce a sigh of relief. The bus had made a few stops in Hockley and was on its way towards Rayleigh. She felt recovered enough to turn around and glance out of the rear window. There was a thin line of traffic, but five vehicles behind, she clearly saw Bradley's dark-coloured BMW. Panic almost set in as she thought,
“He's following me.”
She delved into her handbag and pulled out her mobile, switched it on and waited until there was a signal. After an agonising spell, she frantically dialled Crane's number. At last, for the first time, she heard the ringing tone. Whilst waiting for an answer, she turned around again. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Bradley's car was now immediately behind the bus. As the phone continued to ring she almost said out loud,
“Please be there, please answer.”
The thoughts raced through her mind until a mechanical voice said, ‘Sorry unable to connect you; please leave a message after the tone.'