Dutch Courage (8 page)

‘Yes, Mrs Collier?'

Adroitly changing direction, she said, ‘We never row. It was love at first sight for us both, and that hasn't changed, but he was deeply hurt because I'd not told him what had been happening.'

‘Understandable.'

‘I didn't
think
,' she repeated. ‘Men have idiotic attitudes about things like that. It's perfectly acceptable for Sam to put his life on the line and say nothing to me, so that I learn about it from the TV news, but not for me to protect him from anxiety.'

‘Sounds familiar.'

‘I then compounded my crime by asking you people for help.'

‘That was the right thing to do,' Max said firmly. ‘We know how best to deal with problems like yours. If you had taken your husband into your confidence he'd have come to us much sooner.'

‘You're wrong. He was so angry because I'd brought you in instead of allowing him to deal with it his own way.'

‘Is that what he was attempting to do tonight?'

‘I don't know. He came home early, ranting and raging over the interview with Mr Black. We kissed and made up before he returned to work. I prepared his favourite stew with dumplings, and things seemed to have settled down until he spotted a Redcap strolling about outside the house. He got angry again and intended to go out and move him on, but the phone rang and he took the call.'

‘Who did he speak to?'

‘He didn't say. Just told me I'd be safe with the guard outside and left by the back door.'

‘What time was that?'

‘Nine fifteen, nine thirty. Somewhere around then.' Her voice broke. ‘When I opened the door and saw the Duty Officer with another man, I thought you'd come to tell me Sam was dead.'

‘You believed that to be a possibility?' Max probed.

She nodded. ‘As Sam left he said, “I'll sort the bastard out once and for all.”' Tears now ran down her cheeks. ‘I'm to blame for what happened to him tonight.'

‘You mustn't think that, Mrs Collier,' said Ben Steele earnestly. ‘It was a hit and run accident.'

‘But who did the hitting and running?' she countered thickly. ‘If they kill him,
my
life will end.'

Max got back to his room in the early hours. Far too late to call Livya, even to leave a message. There was not one from her, either. He lay in bed thinking about the Colliers. A golden couple who fell in love at first sight. Life should be a bed of roses for them, but they had known the tragedy of two miscarriages, and they were now caught up in some dark plot to destroy their idyll.

He realized his bad mood over the spat with Livya had soured his professional judgement this morning. Tom had been right to prioritize the Collier case. Charles Clarkson might suffer slights and doubts on his moral probity, but young Sam Collier was in actual mortal danger.

Four

M
ax awoke at seven and called Livya's number in London. He was invited to leave a message. The receiver went down with a bang. He knew she rose early because she liked to be fresh and impeccably dressed, whatever she was doing that day. He took a perverse delight in wrecking that perfection the minute they reached a bedroom. Frustrated, he called the number again.

‘Please pick up, Livya. I tried several times last night to contact you. Come on, let's talk.'

Silence. He slammed the receiver down again and took a shower. It did nothing to ease his mood of mixed anger, frustration and concern. Why wasn't she there? If she was, why refuse to speak to him? Surely such a small, unwise comment from him could not have put an end to something so good; a relationship she had pursued without guile from their first meeting here in Germany.

Livya had come to participate in the Inter-Services Chess Championship just prior to Christmas, and mutual attraction had been instant. The three days they had just spent together had been warm and wonderful. A tiny flash of jealousy could not have put an end to that, could it?

Dressing in a dark-grey suit, with a white shirt and a red and silver tie, Max then picked up his telephone again. On the point of punching in Livya's number, he changed his mind and called Tom.

‘Are you undergoing the usual morning chaos?'

‘Well, there are assorted females in various stages of undress wandering around upstairs, but I'm in sole, peaceful possession of the kitchen at the moment.'

‘Grab some breakfast while you can. Tom, I owe you an apology. I came upon Sam Collier lying in the road last night. Clarkson dismissed the notion of a hit and run. Claims he'd been given a severe going over by a couple, or even a group. And I do mean severe. He looked a mess. You're right, there's something deeper than resentment behind the campaign against the Colliers. We have to sort it before there's a tragedy.'

‘Has his wife been told?'

‘I went to the house with the Duty Officer. She took one look at us and dropped in a faint. Thought I was a padre and we'd come to tell her her husband was dead.'

‘Think she's aware of what's behind the campaign?'

‘Do you?'

‘It's possible, I guess, but unlikely.'

‘I'm going to question him first thing, and I suggest you call on her to suss out just how involved she is.'

There was a fractional pause before Tom said, ‘Right.'

Max grinned. ‘Don't bother to put bread in the toaster, chum, just hold it between your hot little hands.'

After his breakfast Max surrendered again to the urge to call Livya. Same invitation to leave a message. He tried her mobile number. It was switched to voice mail. So she did not want to speak to him. Or to anyone else. That was her privilege, but it was curious. As he drove to the Medical Centre he worried about her inaccessibility. Had something happened to her? He knew her parents' number, but he would only call them in an emergency situation. The swiftest means of checking on her safety would be to call his father, but that would be his last resort. He would tackle the problem this evening.

Because he had been on call last night, Charles Clarkson was not officially on duty today, the daily sick parade being taken by the civilian doctor who served the base in harness with his military counterpart. However, the Major was in the small ward when Max arrived, and he came from it with no greeting other than an unsmiling nod.

‘He came through the night without a problem, then?' Max asked.

‘He won't be out of the woods until tonight. We're still watching his pupils for signs of dilation. Most of the visible blood came from his nose and mouth. Good dental work will repair the damage to his teeth, and the sutures I put in his lip and cheek should ensure he's left with only faint scars. There's a curious element to the damage to his torso, however.'

‘In what way curious?'

Clarkson frowned. ‘There are raised stripes across his back that suggest flogging.'

‘
Flogging!
'

‘Mmm, like the good old days of military and naval service. Fifty lashes as the sun goes down.' Seeing Max's expression, he gave a grim smile. ‘No, no, if he'd suffered fifty he'd be in hospital. The bruises on the upper arms indicate to me that he was restrained while being lashed with something like thick rope. The weals are too broad for a cane or a riding-crop.'

‘Poor bastard!'

‘Indeed. If they'd bared his back, he'd now be in a life-threatening condition after being left on the road in such a low temperature. I'd guess the blows to his head were designed to stun him enough to prevent resistance to being held against a wall and thrashed. The back of his sweater is roughed-up and torn in places, but it gave him some slight protection. I shall monitor his kidney function today. That area appears to have taken the brunt of the attack.' His mouth twisted. ‘Will that indicate the height of the assailant?'

‘It'll be a strong pointer in that direction,' Max told him thoughtfully, missing the slight sarcasm. ‘The most natural swing of his arm. If you can pinpoint the areas where the weals are the most damaging, it could tell us whether the man was right or left-handed.'

‘I'm not a bloody pathologist!'

‘OK, forget it. How soon can I talk to Collier?'

‘Tomorrow. His complete system has been traumatized. He needs time and peace for recovery. David Culdrow has agreed that I should follow the case through as I dealt with it last night. I take it you have no objection to that?'

‘No, this is best kept within military circles, especially in view of all the recent hype concerning Sam Collier. We don't want the press getting hold of this.' Max considered further. ‘In fact, the finer details of his injuries should be kept under our hats. Can you trust your orderlies not to blab?'

Clarkson pursed his lips. ‘I can mouth-off about patient confidentiality and hope for the best, but the guys here when he was brought in last night might already have spread the news as fast as the other titillating piece of gossip.' He gave Max a straight look. ‘We've stopped answering the phone, and we've kept the children home from school. Ria and I don't see why they should suffer the taunts and abuse created by their lying friend.' He made to leave. ‘I'll check on Collier at regular intervals. Between visits I'll be at home and available on my mobile number, should you need to contact me.'

Tom experienced a ridiculous sense of excitement at the prospect of seeing Margot Collier again. She had appealed to him for help yesterday morning. How much more anxious for reassurance would she be today? The physical attack on Sam Collier must have been the next step in the campaign against them and it seemed, to Tom, to send a message of either-or.

It also vindicated his own assessment of the seriousness of the harassment. Max had clearly imagined he was swayed by the beauty of Margot Collier, hence the comment about bread being toasted by his body heat. Yet Tom sensed there was another reason for Max's present mood, and it was not hard to guess it also concerned a woman. They played havoc with a man's concentration on his work.

Tom knocked and was struck anew by the arresting quality of Margot Collier's features, when she opened the door almost immediately. Her healthy tan belied the fear and anxiety in her eyes and the tenseness around her mouth. Yesterday, she had been worried. Today, she was deeply afraid.

‘Mr Black! Has something happened? Is he worse?'

‘No, no, nothing like that. I'd like to talk to you about what happened last night. May I come in?'

She stepped back to allow him to pass, and he was immediately aware that this was unlike the usual junior officer's abode. A graceful, exquisite bronze ballerina stood on a marquetry table in the hall, both of which screamed
wealth
. Hanging on the sitting-room walls in pale frames were what looked like the images on the paper dress patterns that Nora used. Hardly pictures, though.

‘I'm a costume designer.' Tom swung round at her words. ‘Those are some I created for Ballet Romayne's production of Eugene Onegin.' She gazed steadily at him. ‘I'm not just a poor little rich girl, you know.'

‘My wife would love to see those. She makes wedding and evening dresses. Just a hobby,' he explained awkwardly. ‘She's had no professional training.'

‘You wanted to talk about last night. I wish you had waited before tackling Sam yesterday. Couldn't you realize how humiliating it would be for him before I had had time to break the news in gentler fashion?' She sank gracefully on to a padded stool Tom reckoned had come from an antique shop in Chelsea. ‘I went to your office directly from the incident on the road. I was shaken and maybe too hasty. I didn't dream you'd race off to confront Sam the minute he landed. I told you his job is very hazardous. Are you aware of the number of lives lost in Lynx crashes? Taking to the air has the underlying factor of risking one's life. Being safely on ground, I suppose you don't understand that.'

Admonition from this tantilizingly lovely woman brought unwelcome colour to Tom's cheeks. It also brought ready defence. ‘Since we last spoke, I've met Lieutenant Collier. Aren't you badly underestimating him? He struck me as a man well able to assess the risks he faces. He's a soldier, Mrs Collier. Joining the Army is in itself an acknowledgement of the dangers of that profession. He's a former member of the Blue Eagles display team – a
voluntary
member – and he very successfully brought men out from a hostage situation in Sierra Leone shortly after your marriage. He's a man of courage, and this latest proof of it in Afghanistan should calm your doubts on his capability.'

This reasoning brought a staggering reaction. ‘I don't doubt his capability
or
his courage, you fool! It's
because
he's so daring that I tried to keep the petty details of deflated tyres and smashed eggs on the doorstep from him for as long as I did. You then blundered in heavy-footed and undid all my careful work. He was fighting mad.'

Tom seized on those last words, tingling with awareness of how passion heightened her electric beauty even further. ‘What happened when he received the telephone call last night? Captain Rydal told me you'd indicated that your husband said something about sorting the bastard out once and for all. Did you know what he meant by that?'

The flush receded from her cheeks, her eyes lost their angry glitter, her voice resumed its low cadency. ‘I suppose he intended to sort out whoever has been harassing me. Sam needs this pregnancy to go full-term as much as I do.'

‘All the more reason for you to have confided in him from the start,' Tom pointed out, noting the emphasis on the desire for a child and the use of
need
rather than
want
. Had Sam Collier a compulsion to prove himself in that one area as yet unfulfilled? ‘So, you think the call came from your tormentor?'

‘Why else would Sam have gone straight out like that?'

‘And all he said was that he would sort them out?'