Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (46 page)

Frank smiled … So it might work out after all, and not only would he see old Monty, but he would be on the islands again, and just for a while, be close to Mrs P.

Collecting his cigarettes and lighter, he wandered down through the wild tangled garden, and just as he reached the bridge, the Land Rover came bouncing along the track.

‘Morning sir, and which pub will you be wanting?’

Frank climbed in, ‘Let’s make it your favourite, the spit and sawdust.’

Arriving at the pub, he thought it looked more like a farmyard, and apart from a battered old jeep, the parking area was full of tractors, and pushing the door open, it soon became obvious that some of these farmers kept pigs.

Looking around, he saw about ten good old boys dressed in cloth caps and overalls, and to a man they were all drinking pints of cloudy cider.

At the bar, Frank ordered the same and asked to use a phone.

The landlord looked him over, ‘Well there’s your pint, and the phone’s in the passage.’

Changing a five-pound note into coins, he walked out through the door and stepped into a dimly lit hallway, and pushing coins into the dirt encrusted machine, dialled the number, and then came a voice that took him back through all the long years of memories.

‘Hello, Mrs P. It’s Frank ... and it’s been a long time.’

She faltered, ‘It has indeed, and some might say, it’s been far too long.’

‘Yeah, I know, but right now I need to speak to Monty, if that’s okay with you?’

‘Yes, alright. But don’t keep him too long, he’s still as weak as a kitten.’

After a moment, Monty came on the line.

‘Frank, my old friend, you got my card then.’

‘Yeah. So is there anything new?’

‘There certainly is. The local scuttlebutt says she might sail at any moment, that’s why you must hurry, some of the photos are amazing.’

‘What photos?’

‘The long range snaps that Mrs P organised.’

‘Right. So who’s on them?’

‘Well I can hardly believe it, but the faces are all from that report we saw at GCHQ, RED SURF, The Current Situation of International Terrorism, and they’re all here, the top four suppliers, the ones they codenamed, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich.’

As Frank thought back, it suddenly all came rushing into his mind again.

‘Oh yeah, I remember. But what are they doing at the Scilly’s?’

‘Well I’m guessing they arrived on cruise ships so they could slip away to
Polyvotis
.’

‘Right. But haven’t they taken one hell of a chance, coming way over here?’

‘Yes, and I can think of only one reason why they would step out of their comfort zone, Marcus Glenndenning and that file - everything that’s happened has been because of that.’

‘Yeah, and if those buyers are after it, I don’t even want to think of the consequences.’

Frank now had a damned good reason for going to the Scilly’s, and it wasn’t for Monty, or even the adorable Mrs P. It was simply to get rid of
Polyvotis
.

But an assault on a yacht is a different ballgame to an attack on a land based target, and according to Monty’s update,
Polyvotis
was a lot more than just a yacht.

Thinking back through Monty’s report, one of the Association boats had been hired to take supplies out to
Polyvotis
and Mrs P had put one of her own men on board, and during the unloading, her man had shared seafaring talk with one of the crew and it turned out that Polyvotis had quite a history.

She was a 4 masted barque of about 310 feet and 2,500 tonnes, and built in Scotland around 1900 for her German owners to use in worldwide trade, and later under another flag she’d spent her last active years in the Australian grain trade.

Then during the Second World War she was laid up in a neutral dockyard, and having been sold off, spent many years as a floating museum until she was purchased by a mystery buyer who’d rebuilt her, and regardless of cost, into a luxury yacht.

As Frank tried to imagine her, he knew the most important thing was that she’d been built with a steel hull, so an explosion down below would send everything skywards.

And considering the logistics, he thought Glenndenning had planned it well, as although the distance between the two islands of Tresco and Bryher was quite narrow, there was enough deep water to drop anchor, so he probably thought he was safe.

He remembered Angela wanting him to start tomorrow morning, but that was no good because the Scillonian, the ferry that travelled between Penzance and the Isles of Scilly, departed around 9.30 am, and without a ticket, no-one travelled, and although he could get there by helicopter, it would be better to arrive on a crowded ferry of tourists.

So he had no choice but to phone the booking office now, then pay by plastic and catch the overnight train to Penzance.

But he wasn’t supposed to know where Glenndenning was, and how to square that circle was a puzzle, but never mind, the sooner he called the Scillonian booking office the better.

Calling directory enquiries, he got the number for the booking office and made passage for tomorrow on the Scillonian.

So the die was now cast, and tomorrow belonged to the Devil.

4
5

Sitting in the gloomy priest hole, Lucinda transcribed the message.

And she couldn’t believe it - there was only the address of Rattenegger’s summer retreat and the make and model of her damned car, so what fucking use was that?

And the Minotaur was no good, telling her to speak to a bloody Titan.

For god’s sake, was she now expected to be clairvoyant as well?

But when a second message came through, her eyes narrowed when she read that the target’s only known associate was Marcus Glenndenning.

That fat ugly slime-ball at Hamble Marina who just couldn’t wait to get his podgy hands on that little tart, Tara Goodwin.

So were all these bastards working together?

Another frigging conspiracy?

Fuming, she made two phone calls, one to Lisa Portbury who agreed to check the address, and the other to the Harbour Master at Hamble Marina, who said, according to local gossip,
Polyvotis
had sailed to the Isles of Scilly.

Thinking it through, she returned to the kitchen, but only to see Martha back away.

‘And what’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing ma’am. But after the clock, I thought …’

‘Well don’t think … I’ve told you before, you can’t do it properly.’

‘Yes ma’am, or was that, no ma’am.’

‘Oh for god’s sake, go and lay out my clothes, you can manage that can’t you.’

‘Yes ma’am. And which ones will it be?’

‘Well the posh outfit of course, and tell dumb-head to make sure the car has a full tank.’

‘Yes ma’am. So it won’t be the Morris Minor, then.’

‘…Well of course not, do you really think these rich pricks go parading off to their yachts in Morris Minors?’

‘I’m sure I wouldn’t know, ma’am.’

‘…Well there you are, and it’s a bloody good job they don’t send you off to kill someone, for you have absolutely no sense of decorum, and not only would you be dressed totally incorrect for the occasion, but knowing you, half the frigging neighbourhood would be exterminated in the process, now wouldn’t it.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘Quite right. So I rest my case.’

Wandering back to the lodge, Frank knew the farmhouse cider had sure done its work, and when the keeper unlocked the gate, he smiled when he saw him swaying in the wind.

‘So what did you think of the pub, sir?’

‘Well the gut rot cider’s got me rat assed and the toilet could do with a bit of demolition, but apart from that, it was bloody awful.’

‘Yeah, well it is a bit basic.’

‘Basic? Christ, a farting donkey would improve the place.’

Later, while sharing a jug of coffee in the lodge, Frank tried to put his plans together.

‘So where’s the nearest mainline train station?’

‘Well that’ll be Cheltenham, I reckon.’

‘Right. Well you’ll be taking me there, and probably this evening, so check the time of the next train to Penzance and let me know, but don’t go shouting about it, okay?’

‘I understand, sir, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it quiet.’

‘Good man. I owe you one.’

Leaving Sir Henry to relax and unwind in the lounge, Angela did some thinking, and while arranging a vase of wild flowers, saw Frank come wandering into the kitchen.

‘Oh, so you’ve returned. And did you enjoy your drink?’

He flopped down at the table, ‘It was okay.’

Before she could question him further, the phone rang in the study and she glanced over.

‘Get that will you, my hands are all mucky.’

Walking through, he picked up the flashing grey phone, ‘Hello.’

‘Ah, it’s you, sir. Well I’ve checked the trains, and one leaves Cheltenham at midnight, it makes a lot of stops and gets to Penzance at six in the morning. So if you want it, we’ll have to leave here about eleven.’

Giving it some thought, arriving in Penzance at six, sounded just about right.

‘Okay, thanks, I’ll let you know.’

On returning to the kitchen, she looked up from her flowers, ‘Who was it?’

‘One of the keepers, he found some money I dropped by the gate.’

‘That’s not like you … I hope you’re not losing the plot, this is too important.’

‘Yeah, I know, but that’s half the trouble.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well now we’ve got the go-ahead for Glenndenning, I’d like to get started.’

‘Good idea, but are you ready to leave so soon?’

‘I reckon so. The Bergen’s still packed, so all I need is some hard cash and the most recent sighting of him.’

‘Well that’s easy, there’s five thousand in the safe, and Glenndenning was last seen on his yacht,
Polyvotis
, at Hamble Marina.’

‘Sounds good.’

‘So when do you want to leave?’

‘Well I’d like to get started this evening.’

Angela thought of Sir Henry, ‘Alright. So how much cash will you need?’

‘Three thousand should do it, there might be some bribery involved.’

‘Very well, and what about transport?’

‘Well if the keeper could take me to a station, I’ll make my way to Hamble Marina and figure it out when I get there.’

‘Good idea.’

In the study, Angela opened a secret section of the bookcase, and dialling the numbers, pulled open the heavy door of the safe, and counting out three thousand in used notes, laid the money down.

‘Here you are, three thousand in used notes, so I guess the rest is up to you.’

As Frank went upstairs to check the Bergen, Angela walked through to the lounge.

‘Sir Henry, there’s been a development which could solve all our problems, so if you’d like to verify the DVD, you could confirm to the Forty and we can get started.’

Leaving him to watch the hideous recording, Angela went back through to the study, and picking up the red phone, called her office.

‘Louise. Who do we have in the government that could leak a report to the press, and preferably, a spin doctor.’

Louise gave the name of a spin doctor who practically slept with the Prime Minister.

‘Okay, he’ll do, he more or less runs the country anyway, so compile a chain of events around a senior advisor, you know the sort of thing, a decent, respectable family man going off the rails and talking to journalists in secret, a worried man of principle under pressure and who has now disappeared. But the trick is, you must send the message to everyone down the golden thread, and I do mean everyone, from the tabloid editors to the top of the Secret Intelligence Service. It’s vital they sing the company song in harmony.’

‘Who? Oh, didn’t I say. Well it’s Sir Henry Talbot. So contact the Church Warden and tell her to come to the cottage at midnight, and there’ll be just one client.’

Calling Thornley Manor, she instructed the senior technician to be ready to leave for the cottage at a moment’s notice, and may God bless the Devil.

Footsteps on the stairs suddenly jolted her out of her innermost thoughts, and pulling the study door open, saw him standing there, washed, shaved and dressed in different clothes, and as she gazed at him, she felt the sudden realisation, that if something went wrong, she might never see him, ever again.

‘Take care, Frank. Take very good care.’

He half-smiled, ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be as easy as falling off a log.’

‘Well you make sure you play on the small logs, or mother will smack.’

Quite suddenly, she had the strangest feeling she might have missed something.

But what on earth could it be, because DC was hunting Michaela in the Henley area while Frank was tracking down Glenndenning on his yacht.

So what could go wrong with that - their agendas were miles apart.

It was later when the phone rang at Sheverill’s Farm, and Lucinda was surprised that Lisa had called back so soon - but it seemed there’d been a burglary at Henley on Thames, and as it was her patch, she had taken the opportunity to use her police time to check out the summer retreat at River Cottage.

She said it had been rather odd - because when she’d arrived, the front door was open, and when she knocked, a neighbour looked over the hedge, and wasn’t at all surprised that the Police were there.

It seemed that the owner of the cottage, a huge, gargantuan woman, had arrived late yesterday in a squeal of brakes, and after crashing and bashing inside, had marched out with two enormous suitcases, and when the neighbour asked her if everything was alright, the woman, whom the neighbour had passionately described, as being, so bloody repulsive she could turn fresh milk sour, had replied,
‘No, everything wasn’t fucking alright, so she was going away on a long cruise.’

Replacing the phone, Lucinda stood quietly as a mental picture of her new client began to emerge through the previous fog of uncertainty.

So, she was a woman of immense proportions, indescribably ugly, obviously wealthy, running scared, going on a cruise, and was a close associate of Marcus Glenndenning who owned the yacht
Polyvotis
which had an urgent appointment at the Isles of Scilly.

And now, Michaela Rattenegger, I have you.

‘Martha. What does one wear on the Isles of Scilly?’

‘I really wouldn’t know, ma’am.’

‘So why do you always refuse to know anything, you’re not going into politics, I hope.’

‘No ma’am, sorry ma’am.’

‘Well it’s no use being sorry, now is it, I’m the poor wretch who’s got to travel to these silly islands, and I don’t even know how to get there.’

‘I thought you were going by car, ma’am.’

‘I can’t believe you said that … I’m going to a frigging island, you stupid old bat, and although I’m perfectly aware that BMWs can do almost anything, I am not entirely convinced that they’ve taught the bloody things how to swim.’

‘Ah … Now that might be a problem, ma’am.’

‘You’re damned right it’s a frigging problem, and you have the intellectual capacity of a first class cretin.’

As Lucinda turned away, Martha suddenly frowned and cautiously took a step forward.

‘But ma’am, if you’re travelling there, couldn’t a travel agent help?’

Staring out into space, Lucinda swung round and gave a huge smile.

‘That’s it. There you are, you see, I knew I’d think of it sooner or later.’

‘Yes ma’am.’

Marching away to the lounge, Lucinda took the phone book and turned the pages, and having made the call, returned to the kitchen, happy and bright eyed again.

‘Well that’s all organised. I’m booked on a helicopter flight at mid-day tomorrow, it’s going from Penzance to St Mary’s and I’ll be staying near the quay at a swanky little hotel. So that wasn’t too difficult, was it?’

‘No ma’am, you did very well.’

‘Yes, I did, didn’t I, but enough of that, there’s a lot to do before bedtime, and as I have to be on my way first thing in the morning, you’ll have to take good care of those two in the annex. They’ve got a lot of explaining to do when I get back.’

‘Don’t you worry, ma’am, I’ll look after them, proper. So we’d better get you packed, and if you’ll be wearing your posh outfit, what else will you be taking?’

‘I don’t know, but there must be shops there, so I’ll travel light and buy something appropriate when I get there.’

‘That would be nice, ma’am. So you’ll be shopping on the Isles of Scilly tomorrow.’

Mr Tobius was a quiet man of fifty three, and although he did speak of other things, his overriding passion was for computers, and having devoted all his painstaking years to Cardinal’s ever expanding computer, he now regarded the Minotaur as his own child, but not once in all those long years had he ever been invited to the Bunker, and now, as Angela looked him in the eye, she could clearly see his apprehension.

‘Mr Tobius, how very nice to meet you.’

‘Thank you, ma’am.’

‘And this is a friend of mine who’d like to tell you all about the Forty’s enigma machine, so I’ll leave you two alone to discuss this clever little toy. Oh, and I very nearly forgot. When you’re finished, you, Mr Tobius, will take the laptop back to Thornley for a full and complete evaluation.’

Sir Henry was unsure when Mr Tobius took his laptop away, but Angela assured him it would be returned in plenty of time for his departure, and as those two despicable people would soon be dealt with, he could now relax and enjoy his short stay at the cottage.

Angela took great care in preparing his Mickey Finn, and when she was satisfied, poured and mixed the fine white powdery drug into a large glass of brandy, and placing it on the silver platter, poured the coffee and looked at the clock.

‘Sir Henry, won’t you come through, I’ve coffee and brandy for you.’

It was approaching midnight, as Angela, looking at him slumped in the chair, heard the door open, and looking up, saw the Church Warden standing there like an angel of death.