The New Eastgate Swing (11 page)

He must have fallen asleep with the lights on. The jarring ring of the telephone made him scramble up, blinking hard.

‘Hello?' He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. For a moment hope pumped through him. Maybe it was Carla. He heard the coins tumble in a phone box.

‘Dan?' It was just a whisper. Not Carla. Not Georgina. Amanda Fox.

‘Where are you–' he began but she cut him off.

‘Can you come and get me? Please.' There was a tone he hadn't heard before. Desperate. Begging. ‘
Please
.'

Twenty minutes later Markham parked outside the Peacock, across from Elland Road football ground. The pub was dark, the car park empty. He did as he'd promised, flashing the headlamps twice and keeping the motor running.

‘If you do that, I'll know it's you,' Amanda had said on the phone.

‘What's happened to you?' Markham asked urgently. ‘What is it?'

‘Just be there as soon as you can. Please,' she had added again, her voice still quiet and on the edge of tears.

He had made good time into town, very little late night traffic on the roads, then moved haltingly through Beeston, unsure of his bearings until he found the spot. The air was damp, a heavy mist clamped low.

Two cars passed, leaving a blurry trail of lights as they vanished into the distance. He looked at his watch, holding it to try and make out the time. He smoked a Craven A, almost finishing it when he heard the sharp click of heels and saw a vague shape emerge from the shadows.

He could see her for a second as she opened the passenger door and climbed in. Her stockings were torn, knee bloody, dirt and bruises on her face.

‘Christ, what–?'

‘Drive,' she said quickly. ‘Make sure no one's behind us.' She leaned back, moving down the seat to be out of sight.

He kept checking his rear-view mirror. Nothing to be seen. But he still took a long, winding route. When he pulled another cigarette from the packet, he passed one to her, watching from the corner of his eye as she sucked down the smoke eagerly.

‘Where?' he asked as he drove across Leeds Bridge and started up Briggate.

‘Can we go to yours?' She was nervous, hands constantly in motion, pushing the hair back from her face.

‘Fine,' he agreed after a moment.

***

Amanda Fox looked around the flat but she wasn't really paying attention. He took her coat and had a closer look at her. No handbag. Someone had hit her, marks on her cheeks and chin. Her hair was tangled, dirt on her hands and fear in her eyes. Her confident shell had been shattered. She looked terrified.

‘There's a bathroom through there if you want to clean up a little.' He pointed.

‘Thank you,' she answered as if his words had dragged her back from somewhere inside herself.

While she was gone he rummaged in the larder and found a bottle of brandy. She looked as if she needed it.

By the time she reappeared he had a drink waiting for her. Amanda Fox looked a little fresher, but still stunned.

‘Sit down,' Markham told her. ‘Sip that and tell me all about it. The last I know is when you rang me this morning asking me to come to your office.'

She drank the brandy gratefully, breathing slowly. She'd brushed her hair and scrubbed off much of the dirt. The stockings had gone and the graze on her knee was clean.

‘After I talked to you the doorbell rang,' she began hesitantly. ‘There were two men.' She stared at him. ‘Police. They showed me their warrant cards. They said I needed to go with them.'

‘Did you recognise them at all?'

She shook her head.

‘I think they must have been Special Branch. They had that … look. You know, very menacing. They had a car outside and they took me over to a house in Beeston.'

Markham stayed quiet for a moment, then asked, ‘Why did you ring me? What did you need to talk to me about so urgently?'

‘I received a letter from Mark in the second post.' Amanda stared at him. ‘He flew over to Germany yesterday. That was what he told me. But in the letter he said he'd been working for the other side and he needed to get out. I didn't know what to do. And you …'

Those two bloody years in military intelligence. Would he ever be able to put them behind him? Still, there was no need to explain who the other side was. The Russians. But he hadn't seen the letter when they searched the office.

‘Did the men take the letter?'

‘Yes,' she replied quietly.

‘Were they the ones who roughed you up?'

‘They seemed to think I had to know about Mark. That I was involved. They believed I had to be part of it.'

‘And did you know?' he asked baldly.

Amanda stared at him and shook her head.

‘No,' she replied firmly. ‘I didn't even have an inkling until I received the letter. When you gave me your report I wondered what the hell was going on, but I never imagined Mark had anything to do with it. He'd always seemed so … upright. Loyal.'

‘How did you escape?' Had they let her vanish, he wondered, simply to be able to trail her?'

‘I was on the ground floor. There was a bed and a bucket for, you know.' She reddened slightly. ‘I heard them moving around upstairs. I managed to force the window and climbed out into the garden. After that I just ran. I didn't know where I was.'

‘You didn't have any money?'

‘They took my handbag.'

‘How did you ring me?'

‘I spent a lot of time hiding. After I found a place I was too scared to move. I saw one of them go by a few yards away. Once it got dark I moved again. I saw someone walking his dog and asked to borrow threepence from him. I don't even remember what I told him.' Her eyes were gazing into a distance he couldn't see. ‘Something, I suppose. I saw Elland Road. I couldn't think of anyone to ring. You were in the telephone book.' She paused. ‘Thank you for coming.'

She drained the glass and he poured another. Amanda had regained a little of her poise but he still saw her hands shaking as she took the cigarette he offered. There were plenty of questions to ask, but they could wait a little while. She needed to feel she was safe.

‘Do you want to spend the night here? You can have the bed, I'll sleep out here.'

‘Are you sure?' The eagerness in her voice gave her away.

‘Yes.'

Relief spread across her face.

‘I'm scared to go home in case they're waiting for me.'

‘You'll be safe enough,' Markham said and hoped it was true. ‘We can take care of everything tomorrow.'

‘Thank you.' She leaned forwards and took hold of his wrist. A tight grip, as if she was clinging on for life.

***

He found her an old, soft shirt at the back of a drawer. The faint hint of her perfume lingered in the bathroom when he washed and brushed his teeth.

Markham settled in the chair and closed his eyes, although he knew sleep wouldn't rush in.

What could they do about Amanda Fox? They couldn't just leave her to Special Branch; that was obvious. He was willing to believe she hadn't known that her husband was working for the Russians – she wouldn't have had them check on the Germans otherwise. But there was something about this affair that smelt wrong. Twisted. For the life of him he couldn't make out what it was, though.

***

Morning arrived too soon. He woke in the chair, stiff and aching, still in his clothes.

Amanda came through while he was making tea, wearing his shirt, long legs bare, bruises like budding flowers on her skin, dark shadows under her eyes. ‘I couldn't really sleep.'

He wasn't surprised; it would have been stranger if she'd managed a full night's rest.

‘I still can't believe it about Mark.'

‘People can be very good at keeping secrets,' Markham told her.

‘But we've been married for ten years,' she objected. ‘How could he hide it from me? I've been going over it all, trying to see if there were any clues.'

‘Were there?' he asked.

She shook her head.

‘Was he working for them the whole time?' Her voice drifted away for a moment. ‘I was twenty-one when he proposed. I'd just finished at Girton. Mark showed me this whole new world that I didn't know existed. It's a shock. It's like he's ripped my life apart. Right now I don't even know if he ever loved me or if I was some …' She waved her hands helplessly.

‘Everything upside down,' he said kindly.

‘Yes,' she agreed quickly. ‘Inside out. I couldn't believe it. And then those men. I thought they were going to kill me.'

‘You survived.'

‘Yes,' she replied dully. ‘But what if they come back?'

‘We'll make sure they don't.'

‘How?'

‘My partner used to be on the force. Leave that to him.' Markham hoped he was right.

‘And Mark? What am I going to do about that?' She seemed lost. He didn't have an answer for tht question.

‘I'll switch the immersion on. Take a bath, maybe it'll help.' Not much of a solution, he thought, but all he had for now.

***

With the worst of the wear brushed from her clothes she looked presentable. Markham kept his eyes on the mirrors as he drove, but no one seemed to be following. No large men waiting outside the office on Albion Place or on the stairs.

Baker was already there, eyes widening in astonishment when he saw her.

‘We're looking after Mrs Fox for the moment,' Markham told him. ‘Special Branch grabbed her yesterday. Took her to a place in Beeston and gave her a going over.'

‘What?' The astonishment was plain on his face. ‘Why?'

‘It seems that Mark Fox has been working for the Russians.'

‘I got a letter from him yesterday.' Her voice quavered a little. She took a breath. ‘He's defected.'

‘I think you'd best tell me all about it,' Baker said.

By the time she finished he was frowning.

‘Penny to a pound the Branch didn't tell anyone they were here. I think I'll wander down to Millgarth and let them know. I'm sure they'd like a chat with our colleagues from London.' He turned to Amanda. ‘You're certain they were Special Branch?'

‘That's what they said.'

He stared at her face and nodded.

‘Sounds right from what they did. And they have a place in Beeston?' He rubbed his chin. ‘Some people aren't going to be pleased with them. Give it a few hours until they're picked up and I daresay you'll be safe enough.'

‘Even at home?' There was a tremor in her voice.

‘Even there, luv.' He smiled. ‘I daresay you'll still have to talk to MI5 or whoever it is. But they should be fairly civilised.'

‘Thank you.' She looked at one of them then the other. ‘I don't know what I'd have done …'

‘We'll put the bill in the post.' Baker gave a broad wink, put on his mackintosh and left.

***

He was back within an hour, rubbing his hands together and smiling.

‘Wait until dinner and you should be fine,' he announced. ‘Leeds police picked up two blokes from the Branch loitering outside your office on Woodhouse Square. They were waiting to see if you'd show up. They're not hired for their brains.' Baker shook his head. ‘Right now it's just a case of making sure there are no more Branch heavies around, then they'll pack them on the train to London later. They won't be coming back, either.'

‘Are you certain?' She sounded as if she didn't believe him.

‘Positive. I spoke to the Chief Super myself.' He sat down and lit his pipe, working on it until he was wreathed in smoke and smiling with satisfaction. ‘The question is what we do now.'

‘Nothing,' Markham said quickly. ‘We're in this by accident, that's all.'

‘But we
are
in it,' Baker pointed out. ‘Can't avoid that.'

A look between them: something to discuss later, when they were alone.

‘I'll walk you back over when you're ready,' Markham said to Amanda.

‘Thank you.' She looked at Baker. ‘Are you sure I'll be safe?' She couldn't keep the fright out of her voice.

‘As houses.'

‘I still can't believe Mark did it,' she blurted.

‘He sent you the letter,' Markham told her.

‘I know.' Her voice was bleak. She looked lost, baffled by life. But anyone would. In the last twenty-four hours she'd learned that the man she loved was a traitor, she'd been abducted and beaten by Special Branch, escaped and gone on the run.

Her life had experienced an earthquake. Now she had to pick her way through the rubble of it all and find a way to the future. Whatever that might be.

‘Come on,' he said kindly. ‘You can go home and rest.'

A cup of tea first in the cafe at Schofield's, spinning out the time. It was her suggestion, as if she was reluctant to go and pick up the traces of her life. Finally they reached Woodhouse Square. No men waiting around. Her car was still parked there, a sporty Sunbeam Alpine. As she unlocked the door she looked up at him.

‘Your partner, can I believe him?'

‘He was a copper for a long time. He knows what he's talking about.'

‘I hope you're right.' A sudden thought hit her. ‘We had a couple of other small jobs. Nothing related to … would you be willing to take them on? It's very ordinary stuff.'

‘Of course,' Markham agreed.

‘It's the least I can do after all your help.' Life was falling apart but politeness had to be observed.

He watched her drive away then turned and walked back to the office.

***

‘They've been on the blower,' Baker said.

‘Who?' He sat at the desk and lit a cigarette.

‘Your spy friends.'

Markham glared. ‘What did they want?'