Dangerous Deception (20 page)

“As for getting up to the castle, we'll have no option but to use the public footpath – quite simply, there's no other way. We did a thorough recce this morning, without any joy.”

“But the car'll be out of sight round the sea side?”

“That's right.”

Difficult, I thought. A dead end, which meant I'd have to double back in the direction they'd all be taking. But when Philip had picked the spot, he hadn't known I'd be with them.

“And now, ladies and gentleman” – Morgan's voice rang with excitement – “on your left, even if you can scarcely see it, Cefn Fawr Castle!”

My nails ripped into my palms. Now, I thought, now!

Philip leant forward between us, ready to give directions. We passed the car park, barely discernible through the rain-lashed window, and came to the bumpy grass of the footpath. Ahead of us, swimming through the streaming windscreen, I could see the lights of the cottage windows. What, I wondered, if its occupants happened to look out just now?

Then, in a series of jerks, we were past and approaching the point at which the path up to the castle began to rise steeply.

“Here!” Philip instructed. “Turn left and follow the hill round.”

The car obediently veered off the track, careening wildly over the uneven ground before slowing to take the corner and creeping cautiously forward as close as possible to the rock on our right.

“Anywhere here,” Philip said, “but watch your tyres. Some of the loose stones are very sharp and the last thing we want is a puncture.”

Morgan lurched to a stop and switched off his lights. Total darkness swooped down on us and we tacitly waited for our eyes to adjust. Rain continued to lash the windows, now impenetrable with the wipers switched off, and close at hand the sea pounded against the cliffs.

“Thank God the rolls are wrapped in polythene,” Carol said. “I only wish I was!”

Morgan swivelled in his seat to face her. “Now, you both know what you have to do. All the rolls at one go – two journeys are out of the question. Then back down here, like bats out of hell. Just dump the rolls in the boot – we'll stop to pack them when we're well clear. And remember, the boat leaves at midnight – there's no time to waste. Any questions?”

There was silence except for our quick breathing.

“Right, then, off you go. And good luck!”

Carol pulled the hood of her anorak over her shining hair, and I did likewise. Then we were all out of the car, gasping as the wind stole our breath. Philip, who, like me, was on the side nearest the sea, caught my hand in a fleeting pressure and moved round the car to join the others.

Bent double, I took off, running as if my life depended on it – which it might well have done. Wind and sea roared in my ears, drowning any sounds of pursuit. Had they missed me yet? The ground was treacherous and my rubber-soled shoes slithered and slipped, dislodging little stones which rattled deafeningly in my ears.

Behind me I heard a muffled shout, a low call, then running footsteps. With the breath tearing at my lungs and rain stinging my face, I ran gaspingly, stumblingly, away from them.

Their obvious course would be for Philip and Carol to go up to the castle while Morgan hung around the cottage in case I tried to get help.

Thank God my brain was still working! I paused momentarily, swallowing lungfuls of wild stormy air, for I had indeed been heading for the cottage. But the only other prospect of help was the main road – and that was some distance away.

My hair whipped out from the hood, stinging my eyes, and already there was a burning stitch in my side. What chance of finding a call box in this desolate wilderness? Yet I must contact the police – Philip was depending on me.

I stopped again, ears straining through the elements for sounds of pursuit. There were none. Perhaps Morgan had circled in front of me; perhaps he was waiting in that darker patch of shadow just ahead. The breath twisted in my throat but I forced myself on. If I started thinking along those lines, I'd be too panic-stricken to move and then he would surely catch me.

What was certain was that I must give the cottage a wide berth, which meant wasting precious time. Blindly swerving out in a semicircle, unable to see the ground under my feet, I fastened my mind on the road, now several hundred yards ahead and to the right of me. It was essential to reach it before Morgan thought to head me off there.

Had he a torch? If so, would he dare use it? I had a vision of myself running down a long tunnel of light, while Morgan came after me at his leisure. My legs went weak at the thought.

I dismissed it and, like a long-distance runner, settled down to pace myself, finding it easier to run with my mouth slightly open, allowing the cool draughts of night air to provide much-needed oxygen. The sound of my ragged breathing was loud above the wind. Once, my foot slipped into a rabbit hole and I stumbled, wrenching my ankle, but after a snatched second to rub it, went on again.

Where was Morgan now? Was he waiting for me near the cottage, and if so, might he catch a glimpse of me? By now, I was parallel with the car park. Behind me and slightly to my right, Cefn Fawr was a dark mass against a slightly lighter sky. To the left were the slopes where Philip and I had had our painful discussion.
I always knew you didn't give a damn for me … I loved you enough for both of us
.

Tears mingled with the rain on my cheeks and my gasping choked into a sob. If I cried now, I told myself furiously, I wouldn't be able to breathe at all.

On and on, heart pumping, muscles screaming with strain. What was happening up the hill? Had Carol and Philip reached the castle? Would they be able to get inside? I imagined Philip toppling in slow motion over the walls into the boiling sea. Or Carol stumbling down the steps in the corridor, and his catching and holding her as he'd held me.

I had reached the road, and blessedly there was no sign of Morgan. Without a pause I came off the grass on to the more even surface, and ten gruelling minutes later reached the junction where we'd turned off.

I stopped there because I had to, gulping down air and pressing my hands to my burning sides. My heart was racing thunderously, echoed by the pulse in my cheek and the roaring blood in my ears, and it seemed an iron band was pressing against my temples.

And what, I thought for the first time, do I do now? This wasn't exactly Piccadilly; in all probability, no one would come along here before morning. A phone-box or filling station, then? Possibly, but I'd no idea in which direction.

I started to jog again, following the twists and turns of the road. I'd not been along this portion of it, and tried to remember the contours of the map I'd looked at with Philip.
We rejoin this road
, he had said,
and follow it for ten miles or so
.

Ten miles! I staggered to a halt, the ready tears welling again. With my plans only half-formed, I'd been hoping to stop a car on the busier B road leading to the motorway. But it was still ten miles away! To my shaking legs and bursting lungs, it might as well have been a hundred. I glanced uncertainly behind me. Perhaps I should …

My heart seemed suddenly to explode, then started racing twice as fast. Because behind me, in the distance, I saw some lights. Did they belong to a house – a house with a telephone?

No, I realised a minute later, they were moving. A car, then. I dismissed a quick flash of fear; not Morgan – there hadn't been time to bring the pictures down.

The lights had vanished again, hidden by one of the many bends in the road. Suppose the car turned off somewhere before it reached me? I started to run back like a wounded hare, weaving from side to side, my ribs on fire.

Oh please, I prayed, my eyes following the fitful flashes which signalled its progress, please come this way! It couldn't be far away now. Suppose, all in black as I was, the driver didn't see me on the edge of the road? And there mightn't be another car tonight – except Morgan's.

In a frenzy of panic I tore down my hood, shaking my hair free to give extra visibility, and ran straight out on to the road as the car rounded the last curve barely twenty yards away. I was caught, pinned in the headlamps like a trapped moth. I flung my arms up over my head, bent my knees, and blindly awaited the crash of impact.

Brakes screeched, tyres seared along the wet road. The car swerved to the side and stopped on my right, with about three feet to spare. Almost as it rocked to a halt, the door crashed open and a man's voice, unsteady with shock, demanded furiously,

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?”

Still marvelling that I was alive, I felt myself caught roughly by the arms and pulled upright. But my legs were no longer capable of support and I promptly sagged again.

“Are you hurt?” The fury died out of the man's voice. “I didn't touch you, did I? What happened?” Strong arms lifted me as if I were a child and I was carried back to the car and gently set down in the passenger seat.

“Great heavens, girl, you look all in! What on earth are you doing in this deserted place on a night like this?”

I struggled to control my voice. “Please – will you – take me to – the nearest phone-box – or police station?”

He looked down at me frowningly. “Did someone attack you?”

I shook my head. “I just – ran away.
Please
!”

He considered for a moment. Then he said briskly, “All right. You're the boss.” He slammed the door, went round to the driver's side and got in next to me.

I leant back against the leather, luxuriating in being still, letting the pounding of my heart gradually lessen. “Please – hurry!”

He switched on the ignition. “I hope you appreciate that you've knocked at least ten years off my life!”

“I'm sorry.” I closed my eyes. “I was so afraid you wouldn't see me.”

“You can thank God I did – and in time.”

“I do,” I said sincerely.

“But where did you spring from? Surely there's nothing within miles except a ruined castle?”

“No.”

“Well?” he prompted, when I did not go on. “Where have you been and what happened to you?”

I shook my head. “I'm sorry, it's a long story and I haven't any breath to spare. Do you know if there's a phone-box along here?”

“There could be; failing that, there are the motorway services. Where are you aiming for?”

“Just the nearest phone.” I couldn't think beyond that.

“When you'll miraculously have recovered enough to speak?”

“I'm sorry,” I said contritely. He had, after all, come to my rescue, and been given quite a fright into the bargain. He deserved an explanation.

“It's an involved story and I don't really expect you to believe it, but the gist of it is that some priceless works of art are hidden in that castle. They're being removed tonight and taken to Swansea, from where they'll be shipped out of the country.”

“And 007 entrusted you with the vital task of getting reinforcements?”

I said tiredly, “I said you wouldn't believe me.”

“Ah,” he said quietly, “but you see, I do. I believe every word.”

Slowly my eyes opened. I turned my head to look at him, registering for the first time how good-looking he was. “You do?”

“Certainly; I grew up hereabouts and know all the traditional hiding-places.”

“I don't know if it's traditional,” I said doubtfully. Then I sat quickly forward. “Look – isn't that a phone-box? Oh, thank God!” I looked at him quickly. He was smiling, his eyes on the road ahead.

“There's a phone-box!” I repeated, my voice rising in agitation. “Stop! Oh please, please!” I caught recklessly at his arm, but it might have been made of steel. The speed of the car didn't slacken. In a moment the little cube of light was lost in the darkness behind us.

I was close to tears. “Why did you do that? Where are we going?”

“I haven't decided yet,” he said.

Too late, I remembered all I had read about girls who accepted lifts from strangers on lonely roads at night. I was a fool, a criminally stupid fool! My head had been so stuffed full of buried treasure and Philip's dependence on me that I'd ignored the most basic warnings that had been drummed into me from childhood.

Anger at myself steadied me a little. I asked bitingly, “Do you make a habit of this?”

“Only when a girl hurls herself under my wheels. And even then, only when she proves a nuisance.”

“A nuisance?”

“Didn't it occur to you, my pretty one, to wonder why I was on this road myself at this particular time of night?”

I said slowly, “It's a main road.”

“True. And to prove your point, there's another car behind us.”

I spun round. Twin gold stars shimmered among the raindrops on the back window. Morgan already! I was too late!

“We've got to stop them!” I cried urgently.

He laughed. “Calm yourself; it's not your precious getaway car, but whoever it is, we'll soon lose them.” And his foot went down on the accelerator.

In the wing mirror, I saw the lights dwindle into the distance. “How do you know it's not them?” I asked uneasily.

Then, all at once, I knew. And I also knew why he had so providently happened to come along. I stared at him, my eyes widening in panic.

“Sit back, there's a good girl,” said Bryn genially, “and I'll tell you the whole story. We've plenty of time.”

‘Matrimonial devotion

Doesn't seem to suit her notion …'

Gilbert:
The Mikado

IF THEY find out, they'll kill you
. Well, they had found out; it wasn't likely I'd be able to fool Bryn. As though reading my thoughts, he said conversationally, “You're Clare Laurie, aren't you?”

There was no point in denying it. “How do you know?”