The Plantagenet Vendetta (44 page)

Alone in his favourite part of the house, Lord Jeffries checked his watch.

If the time was what he thought it was, his grandson should be arriving home any time.

Stephen left Balmoral through the rear entrance and headed straight for the grounds. The helicopter was in the same place, the pre-flight checks already made.

He tied up the loose ends of his conversation with the King, and turned off his mobile phone. He had tried Thomas on his mobile, which went straight through to voicemail.

Either he had no reception, or more likely, his phone was turned off.

He entered the helicopter and took a seat beside the pilot. He could see from the clock that it was well after 4pm.

If all went to plan, he would be back in London before six.

On the first floor of the boathouse, Caroline and Anthea continued to focus on the laptop.

Assuming the information they were getting was correct, Jen was on the fourth floor, still complimenting Lovell on the tapestries.

The data for Thomas was stranger. The red dot confirmed he was somewhere on the third floor, but where exactly was another matter. The blueprints the palace had on file suggested he was near a study.

They also suggested the area where he was standing was nothing but wall.

Jen was moving on the fourth, possibly toward the stairs. She changed direction halfway along the corridor, entering what was apparently a toilet.

It was impossible to know for certain that she had gone alone, but it seemed most likely.

It was also not possible for them to see that someone had entered the house.

73

Jen left the bathroom on the fourth floor and nearly collided with something.

“All right, Jen?”

She froze, shocked.

Edward had appeared from nowhere.

She looked at him, her skin crawling. “Hi.”

What the hell was he doing there?

More importantly,
where was Lovell?

He grinned at her, his expression typically adoring. Even though she’d only met him twice, she already viewed it as his usual expression. Other things didn’t change either. His hair was nicely gelled and clean cut, while a tight T-shirt and jeans flattered his firm physique.

A bit different from the photo taken earlier that day.

“I hope you’ve not been making a mess in there.”

Charming
. “It’s quite some place you have here.”

“I’m really glad you like it. I hope Dr Lovell has been true to his word.”

The smile was now permanent. It was no different to usual, cocky but harmless.

Or so she thought.

One floor below, Thomas listened to Jen’s side of the conversation.

She had been silent for some time. The resumption of speaking had almost escaped his notice, how taken he was with the footage.

He heard a second voice. Although the sound was weak, he recognised it immediately.

He feared things had taken a nasty twist.

Jen smiled awkwardly as Edward began leaning against the door, partially blocking her path.

“I’d better find Dr Lovell; he’s probably wondering where I am.”

“Let him wonder,” Edward said, moving closer. He placed his finger and thumb to her chin. Even though he did it gently, the sensation was repulsive.

“You’ve got gorgeous eyes.”

She looked at him, not quite terrified but close enough. Was this planned? Had Lovell left her deliberately?

“I really must be finding Dr Lovell.”

“What’s your hurry? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.”

She was doing the best she could. She moved to one side, heading toward the nearest door. Lovell had left the last room. There was no sign of him in the next either. Nor the next.

Silently she was starting to panic.

Thomas was alarmed.

“Caroline,” he whispered, his hand covering his face. “Where is she?”

“Fourth-floor corridor.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait.”

He stopped before leaving the room.

“She’s moving toward the stairs.”

“Would you like me to give you a tour of my room, Jen? It’s where I keep all my guitars. It’s kind of my hobby. I always wanted to be a rock star.”

She sought to reply, but the words refused to come. She remained on the other side of the corridor, trying to avoid him.

Suddenly he blocked her off, again keeping his distance.

“I hear you nearly paid us a visit last night,” he said. “You should’ve asked me when we crossed paths; I’d have given you the whole tour.”

“Let me go.”

She spoke with emphasis that Edward found amusing. He looked her in the eye, his grin ever wider. In all honesty she didn’t think he was going to hurt her.

The question was, who was?

“I thought you were only here to film a documentary?”

She looked at him but said nothing.

“Do all your documentaries involve running around in dirty great vaults?”

Again no response.

“Did you like what you saw? Were you impressed?”

Nauseated more like
. She tried to speak but couldn’t.

“I’ve never really been down there myself. But I’ve heard it’s worth a visit.”

Again she refrained from speaking. In her mind she continued to see the photograph Stephanie had shown her.

It still refused to sink in.

“You have to be careful down there, though. According to some, there’s a monster living there.”

“That and plague rats,” she retorted.

He smiled. “I have also heard that there’s a few other things buried down there as well.”

The words shocked her to the core. Taking the words literally, she elbowed him in the stomach and sprinted for the stairs.

In a large office in Westminster, the Home Secretary was hard at work when the visitor entered.

“Are you busy, Minister?”

It was West.

Heston threw his pen down on the desk. “I might have known…do you have any idea how angry the PM is?”

“I’m afraid we’ve had rather a startling development. I’m glad you’re sitting down. You might want to brace yourself.”

Ten thousand feet above the ground, Stephen watched the scenery from the window. The mountains and lakes beneath were instantly recognisable.

Picturesque Cumbria, spoilt only by the rain.

“How much longer?”

The pilot considered the question. “Probably fifty minutes.”

Stephen nodded, satisfied but concerned. The development was so big, every second counted. He tried Thomas again, but once more got only voicemail.

Failing that, he tried Caroline.

Caroline was speechless.

Her body shaking, she passed on the information to Thomas.

At the other end of the line, Thomas was confused. If his cousin was correct, someone who lived in the house he was currently intruding had been directly responsible for the King’s death.

He asked again, convinced he had misheard.

“Stephen saw the footage. The whole thing was caught on film.”

Thomas refused to accept it. “H-how,” he stuttered. “Edward Jeffries can hardly walk.”

Over four miles away, Caroline shook her head.

“Granddad wasn’t killed by Edward Jeffries Senior.

“It was Edward Junior.”

74

Instinct told Jen to go for the stairs. She changed direction on reaching the third floor, and immediately started checking rooms.

Still no sign of Lovell.

Edward had appeared, though clearly not running.

“Why are you running, Jen?”

She ignored him.

“Whatever it is, we can talk about it.”

She entered the next room, then the next.

It was useless.

Lovell was gone.

She returned to the corridor and stopped. The lad with blond hair was still standing there.

She took a deep breath and ran past him.

Thomas listened intently to the sound in his earpiece. Without doubt Jen was near, possibly on the same floor.

He sought to leave the hidden study when something made him stop. In between the wealth of photographs and newspaper clippings, the wall concealed something else.

Something older.

In the corner of the room was a small staircase leading to the floor below. He descended quickly, giving little concern for the dilapidated state of the metallic stairwell. Seconds later he entered an even darker room, packed to the rafters with manuscripts.

Without question he had found the family archives.

He moved toward the nearest selection and began sorting through them. There were countless manuscripts and records, mostly paper but also parchment. He looked at the content: most of it was handwritten. The nature of the material, the brownish colour, the rough texture, the smell…

It all cried out authenticity.

He turned to the other side of the room, his attention on the most dominant item. Incredibly, he had seen an identical copy before.

It was the same thing Wilson had shown him at the Bodleian.

Jen reached the second floor. As far as she could tell, she was alone, but she couldn’t be certain. Urgency had given way to panic, made worse by her lack of knowledge of the house.

Despite Lovell’s tour, she was still unfamiliar with the layout.

She searched every room, all of which were empty. Though she remained alone, the sound of footfalls on the stairs confirmed company was imminent.

Then she heard a gunshot.

She turned, terrified.

The same hooded figure who had attempted to kill her earlier that day was standing at the end of the corridor.

Thomas was startled. Even through the earpiece he could hear the gunfire.

Instinct guided his actions. He dropped the manuscripts and sprinted back up the stairs, through the study and down the main stairwell. Care had given way to haste.

He no longer cared if he was being observed.

The second bullet missed by inches. She dived with her arms at length, cushioning the impact and preventing herself from going over completely. Logically she had only one destination.

The end of the corridor.

There was a door at the far left; the only one Lovell had not shown her. The door led to a corridor, this one more ecclesiastical in nature. There were windows on the left side, stained glass, ornately decorated and placed in between arches that looked like they belonged in a monastery.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that they were cloisters.

She upped her pace, her feet pounding against the wooden floorboards. She found a door on the right, locked, and another just ahead.

Also locked.

She heard the door behind her open, but on this occasion there was no gunfire.

Clearly the man had orders not to shoot in that part of the building.

She turned to her right where the corridor ended and followed it, her only option. Ten metres on she came to double doors on the right: brown, antique and also religious in nature.

She opened the right door using the large handle and slammed it shut. For the first time she took in her surroundings.

She had entered the family chapel.

Thomas stopped on reaching the end of the corridor before retracing his steps. He could hear breathing in his earpiece, but visually there was no sign of Jen. The info from Caroline was ambiguous, and clearly Jen was in no state to say where she was.

At least he knew from the breathing in his earpiece she was alive.

The rooms were empty. The corridor was equally deserted, strange considering what Caroline had just told him.

Clearly Jen had moved on.

He heard sound coming from the far end, a man singing. Though he was still to see who was responsible, he recognised the song immediately. It was his old school song, Winchester College’s famous
Dulce Domum
, being sung in Latin.

“Who’s there?”

A figure emerged close to the far window. Though Thomas could tell the figure was moving toward him, his features remained veiled by the bright sunlight in that part of the corridor.

Thomas removed his Glock from his belt and pointed it. “Show yourself.”

The figure emerged, blond and smiling.

Finally he recognised him.

“How do, cuz?”