False Impression (48 page)

‘There is a
light on your side of the bed,’ said Krantz. ‘Lean across, very slowly, and
turn it on.’

Anna leant over
and felt the blade move with her as she switched on the bedside light.

‘Good/ said
Krantz. ‘Now I’m going to pull back the blanket on your side of the bed, while
you remain still. I won’t be removing the knife – yet.’

Anna stared in
front of her, while Krantz slowly pulled the covers back on her side of the
bed.

‘Now pull your
knees up under your chin,’ said Krantz, ‘slowly.’

Anna obeyed her
order, and once again felt the knife move with her.

‘Now push
yourself up onto your knees and turn to face the wall.’

Anna placed her
left elbow on the bed, pushed herself up slowly onto her knees and inched round
until she was facing the wall. She stared up at Van Gogh. When she saw his
bandaged ear, she couldn’t help remembering the last act Krantz had performed
on Victoria.

Krantz was now
kneeling directly behind her, still gripping firmly onto the handle of the
knife.

‘Lean slowly
forward,’ said Krantz, ‘and take hold of the painting on both sides of the
frame.’

Anna obeyed her
every word, while every muscle in her body was trembling.

‘Now lift the
picture off its hook and lower it slowly down onto the pillow.’

Anna managed to
find the strength to carry out her command, bringing the portrait to rest on
top of the pillows.

‘Now I’m going
to remove the knife from between your legs very slowly, before placing the tip of
the blade on the back of your neck. Don’t give a second’s thought to any sudden
movement once the blade has been removed, because should you be foolish enough
to attempt anything, let me assure you that I can kill you in less than three
seconds, and be out of the open window in less than ten. I want you to think
about that for a moment before I remove the blade.’

Anna thought
about it, and didn’t move. A few seconds later, she felt the knife slide out
from between her legs, and a moment later, as promised, the tip of the blade
was pressed against the nape of her neck.

‘
lift
the picture up off the pillow,’ ordered Krantz, ‘then
turn round and face me. Be assured the blade will never be less than a few
inches away from your throat at any time. Any movement, and I mean any movement
that I consider unexpected, will be your last.’

Anna believed
her. She leant forward, lifted the picture off the pillow and moved her knees
round inch by inch, until she came face to face with Krantz. When Anna first
saw her, she was momentarily taken by surprise. The woman was so small and
slight she even looked vulnerable, a mistake several seasoned men had made in
the past – their past. If Krantz had got the better of Sergei, what chance did
she have? The strangest thought passed through Anna’s mind as she waited for
her next order. Why hadn’t she said yes when Andrews offered to bring her up a
cup of cocoa before she retired to bed?

‘Now I want you
to turn the picture round so that it’s facing me,’ said Krantz, ‘and don’t take
your eye off the knife,’ she added as she pulled back the blade from her throat
and raised it above her head. While Anna turned the picture round, Krantz kept
the knife in line with her favourite part of the anatomy.

‘Grip the frame
firmly,’ said Krantz, ‘because your friend Mr Van Gogh is about to lose more
than his left ear.’

‘But why?’ cried
Anna, unable to remain silent any longer.

‘I’m glad you
asked,’ said Krantz, ‘because Mr Fenston’s orders could not have been more
explicit. He wanted you to be the last person to see the masterpiece before it
was finally destroyed.’

‘But
why?’
Anna repeated.

‘As Mr Fenston
couldn’t own the painting himself, he wanted to be sure that Mr Nakamura
couldn’t either,’ said Krantz, the blade of the knife still hovering inches
from Anna’s neck.
‘Always a mistake to cross Mr Fenston.
What a pity that you won’t have the chance to tell your friend Lady Arabella
what Mr Fenston has in mind for her.’ Krantz paused. ‘But I have a feeling he
won’t mind me sharing the details with you. Once the painting has been
destroyed – so unfortunate that she couldn’t afford to insure it, such a false
economy, because that’s when Mr Fenston will set about selling off the rest of
the estate until she has finally cleared the debt. Her death, unb’ke yours,
will be a long and lingering one.

One can only
admire Mr Fenston’s neat and logical mind.’ She paused again. ‘I fear that time
is running out, both for you and Mr Van Gogh.’

Krantz suddenly
raised the knife high above her head and plunged the blade into the canvas.
Anna felt the full force of Krantz’s strength as she sliced through Van Gogh’s
neck, and with all the power she could muster, continued the movement, until
she had completed an uneven circle, finally removing the head of Van Gogh and
leaving a ragged hole in the centre of the canvas. Krantz leant back to admire
her handiwork, and allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She felt she had
carried out her contract with Mr Fenston to the letter, and now that Anna had
witnessed the whole spectacle, the time had come for Krantz to earn the fourth
million.

Anna watched as
Van Gogh’s head fell onto the sheet beside her, without a drop of blood being
spilt. As Krantz sat back to enjoy her moment of triumph, Anna brought the
heavy frame crashing down towards her head. But Krantz was swifter than Anna
had anticipated and was able to quickly turn, raise an arm and deflect the blow
onto her left shoulder. Anna jumped off the bed as Krantz cast the frame to one
side and pushed herself back up. Anna managed to rise and even take a step
towards the door before Krantz leapt off the bed and dived at her, thrusting
the tip of the blade into her leg as Anna attempted another step. Anna stumbled
and fell, only inches from the door, blood spurting in every direction. Krantz
was only a pace behind as Anna’s hand touched the handle of the door, but it
was too late. Krantz was on her before she could turn the handle. Krantz
grabbed her by the hair and pulled Anna back down onto the floor. Krantz raised
the knife above her head, and the last words Anna heard her utter were:

This time it’s
personal.’

Krantz was about
to perform a ceremonial incision when the bedroom door was flung open. Not by a
butler carrying a cup of cocoa, but by a woman with a shotgun under her right
arm, her hands and shimmering silk gown covered in blood.

Krantz was
momentarily transfixed as she looked up at Lady Victoria Wentworth. Hadn’t she
already killed this woman? Was she staring at a ghost? Krantz hesitated,
mesmerized, as the apparition advanced towards her. Krantz didn’t take her eyes
off Arabella, while still holding the knife to Anna’s throat, the blade
hovering a centimetre from her skin.

Arabella raised
the gun as Krantz eased slowly backwards, dragging her quarry across the floor
towards the open window.

Arabella cocked
the trigger. ‘Another drop of blood,’ she said, ‘and I’ll blow you to
smithereens. I’ll start with your legs, and then I’ll save the second cartridge
for your stomach. But I won’t quite finish you off. No, I can promise you a
slow, painful death, and I will not be calling for an ambulance until I’m
convinced there’s nothing they can do to help you.’ Arabella lowered her gun
slightly and Krantz hesitated. ‘Let her go,’ she said, ‘and I won’t fire.’
Arabella broke the barrel of her gun, and waited. She was surprised to see how
terrified Krantz was, while Anna remained remarkably composed.

Without warning,
Krantz let go of Anna’s hair and threw herself sideways out of the open window,
landing on the balcony. Arabella snapped the barrel closed, raised the gun and
fired all in one movement, blowing away the Burne-Jones window and leaving a
gaping hole. Arabella rushed over to the smouldering gap and shouted, ‘Now,
Andrews,’ as if she was ordering a beat at a pheasant shoot to commence. A
second later, the security lights floodlit the front lawn so that it looked
like a football field with a single player advancing towards goal.

Arabella’s eyes
settled on the diminutive black figure as she zigzagged across the lawn.
Arabella raised the gun a second time, pulled the butt firmly into her
shoulder, took aim, drew a deep breath and squeezed the trigger. A moment later
Krantz fell to the ground, but still somehow managed to crawl on towards the
wall.

‘Damn,’ said
Arabella, ‘I only winged her.’ She ran out of the room, down the stairs and
shouted long before she reached the bottom step, ‘Two more cartridges,
Andrews.’

Andrews opened
the front door with his right hand and passed her ladyship two more cartridges
with his left. Arabella quickly reloaded before charging down the front steps
and onto the lawn.

She could just
about make out a tiny black figure as it changed direction towards the open
gate, but Arabella was beginning to make ground on Krantz with every stride she
took. Once she was satisfied that Krantz was within range, she came to a halt
in the middle of the lawn. She raised her gun and nestled it into her shoulder.
She took aim and was about to squeeze the trigger when, out of nowhere, three
police cars and an ambulance came speeding through the gates, their headlights
blinding Arabella so that she could no longer see her quarry.

The first car
screeched to a halt at her feet, and when Arabella saw
who
it was that climbed out of the car, she reluctantly lowered her gun.

‘Good evening,
chief superintendent,’ she said, placing a hand across her forehead as she
tried to shield her eyes from the beam that was focused directly on her.

‘Good evening,
Arabella,’ replied the chief superintendent, as if he had arrived a few minutes
late for one of her drinks parties. ‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.

‘It was until
you turned up,’ said Arabella, ‘poking your nose into other people’s business.
And how, may I ask, did you manage to get here so quickly?’

‘You have your American
friend, Jack Delaney, to thank for that,’ said the chief superintendent. ‘He
warned us that you might require some assistance. So we’ve had the place under
surveillance for the past hour.’

‘I didn’t
require any assistance,’ said Arabella, raising her gun again. ‘If you’d given
me just a couple more minutes, I’d have finished her off, and been quite happy
to face the consequences.’

‘I have no idea
what you’re talking about,’ said the chief superintendent, as he returned to
his car and switched off the headlights. The ambulance and the other two police
cars were nowhere to be seen.

‘You’ve let her
get clean away, you fool,’ said Arabella, raising her gun for a third time,
just as Mr Nakamura appeared by her side in his dressing gown.

‘I think that
Anna...’

‘Oh my God,’
said Arabella, who turned and, not bothering to wait for the chief
superintendent’s response, began running back towards the house. She continued
on up the steps, through the open door, before dashing up the staircase, not
stopping until she reached the guest bedroom. She found Andrews kneeling on the
floor, placing a bandage expertly around Anna’s leg. Mr Nakamura came running
through the door. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath before he said,
‘For many years, Arabella, I have wondered what took place at an English
country-house party.’ He paused. ‘Well, now I know.’

Arabella burst
out laughing, and turned towards Nakamura, to find him staring at the mutilated
canvas on the floor by the side of the bed.

‘Oh my God,’
repeated Arabella, when she first set eyes on what was left of her inheritance.
‘That bastard Fenston has beaten us after all. Now I understand why he was so
confident that I’d be forced to sell off the rest of my collection, even
finally relinquishing Wentworth Hall.’

Anna rose slowly
to her feet and sat on the end of the bed. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said, facing
her host. Arabella looked puzzled.

‘But you have
Andrews to thank for that.’

‘Andrews?’
Arabella repeated.

‘Yes. He warned
me that Mr Nakamura would be leaving first thing in the morning if he was not
to be late for his meeting with Corns Steel and suggested that if I didn’t want
to be disturbed at some ungodly hour, perhaps it might be wise for him to
remove the painting during dinner. This would not only allow his staff to
transfer the frame back onto the original, but also give them enough time to
have the picture packed and ready before Mr Nakamura departed.’ Anna paused. ‘I
put it to Andrews that you might not be too pleased to discover that he had
flouted your wishes, while I had clearly abused your hospitality. I think I
recall Andrews’s exact words/ said Anna. ‘“If you were to allow me to replace
the masterpiece with the fake, I feel confident that her ladyship would be none
the wiser.”‘

It was one of the
rare occasions during the past forty-nine years that Andrews had witnessed the
Lady Arabella rendered speechless.

‘I think you
should fire him on the spot for insubordination,’ said Nakamura, ‘then I can
offer him a job. Were you to accept,’ he said, turning to Andrews, ‘I would be
happy to double your present salary/