Hot Pursuit (16 page)

She’d relent eventually; she looked a bit pasty.

Robbie had brought a video camera in the car with them so that Lesley would be able to capture the denouement of the Bernie Fielding story, but he was beginning to think now that without the
Gotcha
film crew behind him he might well have to do it as a reconstruction later. After all, he wasn’t exactly sure what Lesley was capable of in the point-and-zoom department and given her present state of mind he didn’t like to ask.

In quieter moments he was mentally framing the shot where he had had a blow-out in the fast lane of the M6 and had wrestled the car fearlessly onto the hard shoulder. Battling his way across three streams of motorway traffic before leaping out and single-handedly mending the flat with just a Swiss-army penknife and…

‘It’s just up there on the right.’ Lesley’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blowtorch.

‘What is?’ snapped Robbie.

She was waving with her hands about. ‘The holiday camp.’

‘Is that my right,’ he growled, ‘or some obscure alternative female right that can only be divined psychically?’

Lesley lifted an eyebrow and peered at him. It was such an aggressive little gesture; he was almost certain that that little girl in reception wouldn’t do that.

Lesley had changed the tyre fairly quickly – but what she hadn’t pointed out when they got going again was that, under the stress of it all, Robbie had taken a wrong turn at the next big junction and thanks to her they had almost ended up in Wales. Wales for God’s sake, why hadn’t she said something? Lesley had refused to admit to doing it on purpose.

‘Right.’ She pointed with one chubby little finger.

Robbie sniffed, an instant before clocking the sign to St Elfreda’s Bay Holiday Centre. Okay, maybe Lesley was right this time, there had to be a first time for everything. They were about to swing into the entrance when a large silver-grey car pulled out in a hail of loose chippings and stopped. Robbie waved them on. Beside him Lesley made a peculiar noise in the back of her throat.

‘What is it now?’ Robbie snapped.

‘That’s him,’ she said, ventriloquist fashion.

‘What’s him?’ growled Robbie. He had just about had enough of Lesley.

‘That man in the back of that car, there. Don’t look now but it’s Bernie Fielding.’

Robbie snorted. ‘Oh really, and how would you know that, eh, Lesley? We haven’t got a decent picture of him.’

‘I know it’s him,’ said Lesley firmly. ‘Remember the wedding photograph we’ve got on file from when he got married to Maggie Morgan? It looks just like him. His hair’s shorter and thinner now but I’d know that face anywhere.’

Robbie glared at her. He had spent hours staring at the thin grainy paper-clipping until all he could see were the bloody dots. The freebie newspaper that had published the original had long since closed down so they hadn’t been able to track down a decent copy or a print. There was no way he could conjure a face out of the grey tones, however hard he tried, but it seemed that, miracle of miracles, Lesley had.

‘Are you sure?’ Robbie couldn’t quite keep the scepticism out of his voice.

Lesley nodded vigorously. ‘Oh yes, that other man, the one at West Brayfield? I knew that he wasn’t Bernie.’

Robbie stared at her. ‘What? What do you mean you
knew
he wasn’t Bernie? Why the hell didn’t
you say something before I started filming the bloody interview, then?’

Lesley paled. ‘Because you seemed so certain, Robbie,’ she said nervously. ‘I was worried in case you got angry with me. I thought I must have made a mistake.’

Robbie felt his blood pressure rising. ‘So thanks to you, Lesley, I fell flat on my arse and made a complete and utter tit of myself?’ he growled.

She stared at him. ‘What do you mean,
thanks to me
?’

‘What I said. You should have said something. You’re my PA, that’s your job.’

Lesley glared at him; it certainly seemed that she wasn’t worried about him getting angry any more. ‘Oh is it?’ she snapped. ‘And what exactly could I have said, Robbie, that would have shut you up? Let’s be frank. What was it that you would have listened to?’

‘You still should have tried,’ grumbled Robbie petulantly. ‘I am the first one to admit that I’m not infallible.’

Lesley looked heavenwards as if waiting for a sign from God; the truth was that they both knew that when Robbie was hell-bent on something, with his beach-storming hat on, he was almost impossible to stop, and infallible didn’t come close to what he thought he was.

‘So what are you suggesting that I should do now, then?’ said Robbie. ‘Given that Mr Fielding
is, according to you, heading off down the hill?’ Their car was now sitting slap-bang in the middle of the road. Behind them a minibus full of what looked like boy scouts pipped hopefully.

‘Follow that car,’ Lesley said, waving her hand like a wagon-train master cracking a whip, and then added as an afterthought, ‘Would you like me to drive?’

Maggie drove up the Avenue – one of Minehead’s main tourist and shopping streets – found the turning that would take her up to Blenheim Gardens and a place to park on the first attempt. Easy. She sighed with relief as she backed into the space – although almost as soon as the thought formed the easy feeling faded. Making contact with Coleman would mean there was a good chance that Nick Lucas would vanish from her life forever.

The main road had been busy with cars, holidaymakers wandering up the broad paths and straggling into the road, slowing the traffic to a snail’s pace. By contrast, Blenheim Gardens was a haven of tranquillity.

‘I wish –’ Nick began as they headed towards the gates and then he stopped himself again.

‘I wish you’d stop saying “I wish”,’ said Maggie grumpily.

Catching hold of her hand Nick pulled her up against him. ‘Maggie, you are the most amazing person I’ve ever met.’

Maggie groaned. ‘Oh for God’s sake, Nick – that is such a corny thing to say.’ Not that it stopped her from turning in his arms or tipping her face up towards him so that he could kiss her.

‘But I mean it,’ he said, looking hurt as a moment or two later she pulled away. ‘Seriously. Of all the women who could have found me seminaked in their hall, I’m –’

She kissed him quiet and then said firmly, ‘Coleman. Come on, we have to go –’ as he made to kiss her again.

Nick’s face fell. ‘I know, I was just hanging on, relishing the last few minutes.’

‘But you have to go.’

Once they were through the gates there was a signpost indicating the way to the café, amongst other places. For all her encouraging, Maggie was in the same state of mind as Nick, torn between wanting to linger and getting him to Coleman and safety.

Without another word Nick caught hold of her hand and they made their way towards the café. It was the most perfect day to be wandering through the park with a new lover. Maggie felt tears catch in her throat – it was as wonderful as it was ridiculous to be walking hand in hand in the sunshine.

Ahead of them the gardens looked stunning – great beds full of riotous hot summer colours,
interspersed with palms and shrubs and trees. The perfume of the flowers was a heady counterpoint to the rich aroma of coffee that carried towards them on the light breeze.

As they walked Maggie was aware that her eyes were working left and right across the faces of the people around them; the sunbathers and the strollers, the courting couples and the old ladies clutching their ice creams. Maggie wasn’t altogether sure what she was looking for but knew for certain that she’d recognise it the instant she saw it.

‘We have them both in our sights, Sir. They have just entered the park,’ said a hissing metallic voice in Coleman’s ear. ‘They’re currently heading towards the café and should be with you in a matter of minutes –’ There was a crackle and then Coleman smiled. Not long now, he thought. ‘We have a vehicle on standby. Would you like us to close in?’

‘No, stay exactly where you are, don’t move –’ barked Coleman. ‘I don’t want him scared off.’ And then with enforced nonchalance Coleman began to scan the faces of the approaching holidaymakers, looking for Nick Lucas amongst the happy throng.

As they rounded a neatly clipped hedge, Maggie saw a young guy in a suit talking into his lapel
and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was what she was looking for.

‘We’ve been spotted,’ she said under her breath.

Nick glanced across the grass, following her gaze and then quickly looked away. She could almost see the tension easing out of his shoulders and face. For him this was the home run; she couldn’t help but wonder exactly where that left her, although there was no way Maggie planned to go all limp and girlie on him now.

‘Don’t worry, not long now,’ she said in a small, quiet voice. Nick squeezed her hand, although Maggie wasn’t entirely sure whether it was meant to reassure him or her.

‘There,’ said Nick as they rounded another corner, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. ‘Over there. Look, that’s Coleman, standing by the ice-cream stall –’

Maggie looked up and saw a man dressed in a long dark coat hanging around outside the café. He was quite obviously loitering with intent and had made no attempt to blend in in any way. The heavy overcoat looked odd and slightly sinister in the heat. Coleman certainly wasn’t the bestlooking guardian angel she had ever clapped eyes on but he would have to do.

Nick started to walk faster, and as he did Maggie saw something else – something that took her breath away.

‘Oh my God,’ she hissed in astonishment.
Slightly ahead of her Nick was making his way to safety; he didn’t slow his pace; unaware that she had stopped.

On the far side of the park, Bernie Fielding and two men were walking across the grass, two men wearing sharp suits and shades. Two dangerouslooking men, men who made Maggie’s blood ice up, and then something else occurred to her, something much more sinister.

‘Nick?’

He turned to look at her.

‘Don’t look so worried – just a few more minutes and it will all be over,’ he said with a smile.

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. Maggie swallowed hard as the rest of the world slowed to a snail’s pace. She stepped forward, grabbed tight hold of Nick’s arm and turning away from Coleman, turning away from the men in the sharp suits, Maggie hissed, ‘We have to get out of here. Now –’

‘What on earth are you on about?’ protested Nick as they wheeled round. It appeared that he was too surprised to resist her.

‘Trust me, please,’ she said, trying hard not to panic, trying hard not to break into a run, willing Bernie not to look around, not to spot her, or if he did to have the good sense to keep his big mouth shut. Maggie knew if it came to it there was no way they could outrun the two hyenas either side of Bernie and any change of pace might catch their eye.

With her arm through Nick’s she executed a perfect 180-degree turn taking him back along the path, back the way they came, zigzagging in and out of young mothers with buggies, old men with walking sticks and a jogger sweating hard. Maggie hardly dared breathe; the exit that had seemed so close moments earlier now seemed a million miles away.

Maggie could see the young man who had been talking into his jacket, saw him look at them, saw the surprise register on his face and kept on walking as he wheeled round to follow them.

And then they were at the gate. Heart in her mouth, Maggie pulled out her car keys and – sheltered by the hedge now – barked, ‘Quickly, quickly, Nick – run!’

Nick, although totally bemused, did as he was told, and began to hurry after her, back towards the car.

‘I don’t know what the hell’s going on. Our man and the woman are heading back out of the park,’ said the voice in Coleman’s ear.

‘What?’ snapped Coleman furiously. ‘What the fuck do you mean they’re heading out of the park – why – never mind – just get after them – get after them now and bring me Lucas and that mad bitch he’s got with him. Go!’

‘Get in the car,’ Maggie yelled, leaping into the driver’s seat, followed more slowly by a bemused Nick.

‘What’s going on? Are you mad? He was there, you saw him. Coleman was waiting to take me in,’ said Nick. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, Maggie?’

Maggie gunned the engine and pulled out into the road.

‘Steady,’ said Nick nervously, as the car leapt forward into the stream of traffic. ‘Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on here?’

‘I just saw Bernie,’ said Maggie, peering anxiously into her rear-view mirror to see if they were being followed.

‘Bernie? What do you mean, Bernie?
Bernie Fielding
? In the park? Are you sure? I don’t understand – why did we have to run away from Bernie of all people?’ Nick looked back over his shoulder towards what had been his salvation.

‘Because he wasn’t alone, Nick – he was there with two men, two men in shades who looked – well, just how you would imagine hit men to look.’

Nick stared at her. ‘Oh come on, that’s crazy, Maggie. Are you certain? Coleman was there waiting for me. Another couple of hundred yards and I would have been home and dry.’

‘Would you?’ asked Maggie quietly, almost to herself, thinking about the stray thought that had hit her as they had crossed the Gardens. ‘How
did those two men know where we were?’ she asked slowly.

Nick Lucas stared at her. ‘I’m not with you. What do you mean?’

Maggie’s brain tried to rationalise what some deeper instinct understood only too well. ‘What I mean is how did those men know that we would be in Minehead – in Blenheim Gardens – at that moment? Who else knew where we were going?’

‘Bernie?’

Maggie shook her head. ‘No. We didn’t tell him where we were going. Even I didn’t know until we drove out of St Elfreda’s and I asked you.’

Nick’s expression registered confusion for a few minutes and then cleared as some ghastly comprehension dawned. ‘Oh my God –’ his colour drained. ‘Coleman? Is that what you’re trying to say? It can’t be Coleman who told them – he’s one of the good guys. It has to be a coincidence.’

Maggie snorted. ‘Some coincidence. Who else knew? Can you really afford to take the chance?’ she said, accelerating down towards the seafront. The pedestrians scattered like confetti in front of the Golf.