Fragile Lives (21 page)

‘Good thinking, lass,' Stan approved. ‘You watch the hotel and hope the alarm system's as old as the car.'

Joy found a plaid rug on the back seat. It smelt of dog and was covered in hairs but, frankly, she didn't care. The heater in the car still hadn't hit its stride as they pulled up on the promenade and Stan got his bearings. He knew more or less where Rina Martin's house was, but he'd never been there and he hoped he could find the right building.

‘Me dad said it was something lodge. Sounded like Peril,' Joy said. ‘He thought it was a bit of a laugh.'

They cruised slowly down Newell Street, studying the houses. ‘Peverill,' Joy said. ‘That's got to be it.'

Stan nodded. That sounded right. He pulled up just a bit down the road and they ran back through the pouring rain. The house was in darkness, as was every other house on the street. Stan rang the bell, hoping it was working and he wouldn't have to hammer on the door. Really draw attention, that would. A second ring and a light went on upstairs. He could hear movement and then another light on the floor above the first. Then a light in the hall.

‘Who's there?' a woman's voice demanded through the door. ‘Have you any idea what time it is?'

Joy opened the letter box and spoke in a loud whisper, not wanting to rouse the street either. ‘Mrs Martin? I'm Joy Duggan. Jimmie Duggan's kid. I need help. Please open the door.'

There was an almost audible pause and Stan could imagine the woman considering her options, then the sound of a bolt sliding back and the door opened. Rina Martin, in fluffy pink dressing gown and plaid slippers took in the scene that presented itself and then stood aside and let them in. Behind her Tim stood poised at the foot of the stairs in striped pyjamas and a crimson robe.

‘Stanley Holden, is it?' she said. ‘I saw your picture. You keep some very strange company, Joy Duggan.' She took in the girl's bare feet and the smelly plaid blanket and the state of Stan's clothes and then she took control.

‘Tim, take Mr Holden through to the kitchen. You'd better come upstairs and use my shower, young lady. Get you warm and I've got a spare dressing gown.'

‘Best not to argue,' Tim told Stan. ‘Take off your coat and stick it next to the range, it's still hot. Then sit yourself down and tell me what the hell is going on.'

The entire household had been woken by the commotion and assembled in the kitchen. Stan eyed them all warily, wondering where he'd landed up. To his surprise, Rina knew about the twins and knew also about the man called Randall, a figure whose existence Stan had been ignorant of until only a short time before.

Joy, wrapped in another of Rina's dressing gowns and with a pair of stripy socks on her feet, told how she'd been snatched close to her home and how Stan had got her off the boat.

‘They'll be looking,' he said. ‘I've got to get on my way. I thought you could take care of her.'

Rina nodded. ‘You can't accomplish anything alone,' she said.

‘Take Rina and Tim,' Bethany told him. ‘They're ever so brave. They'll soon sort out the bad men.'

‘You ought to tell Mac what's going on,' Matthew Montmorency observed.

‘I would agree,' Rina said, ‘but I think that might not only lose us valuable time, but he would then feel obliged to arrest Mr Holden and I don't think that would help anyone right now. Joy, your father's man, Fitch, was he in the car when it crashed? Is he still down here?'

Joy nodded, suddenly relieved. ‘I didn't know whether he was dead as well. I know his mobile number, Dad made us memorize important numbers.'

‘Good. Get hold of him, arrange for him to meet us en route. Tim, get dressed. Bethany, Eliza, do you think you can sort out something warm for our guest to wear?'

‘To wear?' Stan objected. ‘I was going to leave her here.'

‘Oh, I don't think she'll want to be left behind, not now,' Rina told him. ‘Besides, she and Fitch might be able to get their heads together and call on more back-up. I think we might need any help we can get. Matthew, Steven, once we are gone, barricade the doors and then call Mac. Tell him I said to get you all to a safe place and then explain to him what's going on and that he should let them know at Hill House.'

‘Right you are,' Matthew told her.

‘Oh, we can take care of that,' Steven added.

‘You're worried about George?' Tim asked. ‘Why would this man go after him?'

‘I don't think he would, but you never know. George seems to have found himself mixed up in this right from the start. But my other thought is that, if Stan is right and Haines guesses where he'd choose to make landfall, then he might also wonder if he'll hole up somewhere close by. I doubt he'd think of Joy being as brave as she has been, he'll be thinking of her as a liability, slowing Stan down.'

‘I hope he does think that,' Stan said. ‘The further his resources are stretched, the better for all of us.'

Rina nodded. ‘We'll take Tim's car. Right, everyone get ready. Time is short.'

Stan glanced at the kitchen clock. It had been just after two when they had arrived, it was now two thirty-five. Only two thirty-five, he reminded himself. They were making good time. His only worry was that Haines was making better.

I
n fact Stan's delaying tactics had more impact than he could have known. The coastguard boarded the
Spirit
twenty minutes after Stan made his dramatic exit. Haines had been furious but Coran and the rest had persuaded him to stay calm. He had managed, just, and slipped into the Mr Eric Williams persona under which the boat was registered. A businessman, who travels frequently between the south coast and the continent, in the import business. Mr Williams' paperwork was immaculate. His boat too, if you ignored the smoke damage and the burnt carpet.

‘A really stupid mistake,' Williams said. ‘One of my men lit a cigarette and dropped the match into the bin. Obviously, it hadn't fully gone out and there was paper and plastic and a lot of smoke as a result. Someone panicked and thought we needed help.' He shrugged. ‘I'm really so very sorry but you know how non-sailors can get so het up when something goes wrong on-board. Think we're going to sink.'

‘Funny how the burn mark stretches right across the door, sir.'

‘I suppose it is. I imagine someone must have tipped the bin over when they were trying to put it out.'

They would be escorted into harbour, Haines was told. Better safe than sorry and he must realize, that while they were responding to his call, other lives might be in danger. Had they not been on hand then the lifeboat would have been launched. Time wasted …

Haines listened to the lecture, not making a scene, hiding his rage. He had no real option but to agree to the escort and bite his tongue until the officials had gone.

‘Coran, your friend is dead,' Haines told him.

Tim didn't like other people driving his car but he didn't think he'd argue in this case. Rina rode in front, of course, and Tim joined Joy in the back seat. The Peters sisters had found her some trousers – cinched in by a belt so they stayed up – a T-shirt and warm jumper, topped off by a dark-blue fleece and one of their hand-knitted scarves – Tim wore the other half to the pair. Fortunately, she and Eliza took the same size in shoes and sensible lace-ups completed the outfit. They were almost new; Eliza rarely went anywhere that warranted sensible shoes.

In the driving seat, Stan was hoping he could find his way back to the farm. He consulted frequently with Rina who, considering she was a non-driver, had a surprising knowledge of the local roads and settlements.

Tim found himself looking at Joy. Her red hair was dry now and curled about her face. She had tied it in a ponytail and it hung in waves down her back. He wondered if it was as soft to touch as it looked, a thought which didn't seem quite appropriate, given the circumstances. He wondered if he'd ever have the chance to find out and then told himself that she was far too young for him anyway. What was she? Eighteen, nineteen? His mother would never approve. He smiled, the thought amusing him. His mother's disapproval was usually so theatrical that he never could take it all that seriously.

Joy looked pale and tense and tired. Tim felt the same but with far less reason. Stage fright in his case, he thought, just on a rather grand scale. She had every right to be upset.

As if she felt him looking at her, she glanced his way, smiled thinly. ‘This doesn't seem real,' she said. ‘None of it. It's like I'm going to wake up in my own bed and Mum's going to be calling, telling me I'm late for college.'

‘What do you study?' Tim asked.

‘Joy, is that Fitch's car in the lay-by?' Rina asked.

‘Looks like it, yes. Oh thank God for that.'

They pulled in just behind and Fitch got out, a large, welcome presence. Joy almost fell out of the car in her hurry to get to him, flinging herself into his arms like he was a family member rather than one of her father's employees.

‘Thank the Lord you're safe,' he said. ‘I've let your mum know. She and Brian are OK, but I've not let her tell me where they are. Best no one knows that doesn't have to.'

He scrutinized the others, studying Stan with great attention and not a little hostility.

‘Fitch, leave it,' Joy said. ‘He's made up for the wrong by doing right. You two have got to work together now. The rest of us are here just to make up the numbers.'

Fitch nodded. ‘I'll follow,' he said. ‘You want to ride with me for a bit?'

Joy nodded, much to Tim's disappointment. Then they were off again, trailing through the narrow lanes and hoping they were going the right way, that they would be in time.

‘What exactly did Rina say?' Mac asked. He still only felt half awake and PC Andy Nevins was even less than that.

‘That we should tell you to take us to a safe place, that she would be in touch but they'd gone to rescue the twins.'

‘They, she and Tim?'

‘And Stan and Joy Duggan and, of course, they were going to meet Fitch on the way. Stan said that you'd have to arrest him if they waited and that would slow things down. He was on that boat, the one with the kidnappers, but he rescued Joy and now he's off to try and save the twins.'

Mac and Andy exchanged a glance.

‘Oh, and you should tell Hill House, just in case,' Bethany added. ‘Don't you think we'd better go? We've got our things packed.' She held up a small case. ‘We've all packed.'

‘One case each, I told them,' Matthew added.

‘We could take them to the Palisades,' Andy suggested. ‘They've only just opened, so I know they'll have rooms. You won't rouse anyone at the DeBarr tonight.'

Mac nodded. ‘Good thought,' he said. ‘Andy, you take the Montmorencys, please. Ladies, if you could get into my car?'

‘Ooh, exciting,' Bethany cooed. ‘And we stay the night in a hotel too. It will be quite like old times. Do they have a piano there?'

‘Stan Holden and the girl,' Randall shouted down the phone, ‘I want them found.'

Randall had his own concerns. The police would be back, he was sure of that and besides, it was time to move on. He'd forget about the other business, force Goldman to make the fund transfer that night. Strip Haines to the bone. The other money? Well, the bonus would have been pleasant, but there was no time for that now and he'd still do well out of the deal.

He didn't give the twins a second thought. So far as Goldman was concerned, he was going to get them back in return for Goldman doing the business for him. Goldman believed him; that, so far as Randall was concerned, was all that mattered. He did not and never had known where Haines had taken them and, frankly, he didn't care. He had gone beyond such emotional considerations and, besides, the children were nothing to do with him.

Randall's driver pulled up at the end of the cul-de-sac. The road was quiet, the street in darkness, but the lights were still on in the Goldman house. A curtain twitched open as Randall got out of the car and walked up the short drive. Goldman opened the door as he reached it.

‘Do you have them?'

‘Soon, Mr Goldman, soon. Now, can we go inside?'

Goldman led him into the lounge. His wife stood waiting by the dining table at the far end of the room. A small woman, Randall observed. She looked like her little girls, dark and fragile and now, very pale. Dark circles beneath her eyes robbed her of beauty and absently Randall wondered if she would ever recover from this. The father would, Randall thought. He was of shallower persuasions.

‘I need you to make the transfer now. You can do it from here.'

‘Roger, who is this man?' Realization – the wrong one, as it happened – animated her and she flew across the room. ‘Is he the one who took them? Is he?'

Goldman caught her, held her tight. ‘No,' he said. ‘He's going to help us get them back. I just have to do … to do something for him first.'

She turned large grey eyes upon him. Grey eyes circled with almost black. ‘Where are my children? What has he done with them?'

Randall ignored her. ‘Can you do it from here?' he asked again. ‘I want it done now, as we agreed.'

‘You said you'd get the twins first.' Goldman was desperate now. ‘I want proof you have them.'

‘Mr Goldman, you are in no position to bargain.'

‘You don't have them, do you? Do you? If I give you what you want he'll kill our children.'

‘And if you don't, Mr Goldman, I will. So just do as you're told, yes?'

The hammering on the door took everyone by surprise. It was echoed by a tapping on the patio doors. DI Kendal stood watching them. Goldman let out a groan and sank into the nearest chair, head in his hands. His wife just stared in disbelief.

‘They're dead, aren't they?' she whispered.