Music and Lies (George and Finn Book 1) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

GEORGE

Way too soon we were interrupted by a voice saying, ‘What’s going on? Who’s there?’

A strong light was playing over us and we sprang apart. Finn made a good job of seeming surprised. ‘Jesus. Who is that?’

I was just speechless, which was probably a good thing.

‘Finn MacPherson! What the hell are you doing here?’

Finn pulled me to my feet and began to brush bits of undergrowth off his clothing. ‘Er, we were, er …’ he said, not meeting their eyes.

I could make out at least three men in the gloom. Marcus wasn’t with them but I thought the one who had spoken was Davy who worked for him so they were probably on our side. Weren’t they? Then the torch moved a bit and I recognised Chester with the stringy pony-tail and straining camouflage tee-shirt. Maybe not such good guys, then.

‘You don’t need to come all the way up here to shag your girlfriend,’ Chester said. ‘So why the fuck are you here?’

‘Same reason as you, I suppose,’ said Finn, sounding calmer now. ‘We were looking for something. But we didn’t find it and then we got, er, distracted.’ He put his arm around me and I leaned into him, happy to hide my face in case they could read the truth on it. I wished they would stop swinging the torch around so half the time it shone right at us, blinding me.

It took me a moment to realise Finn had moved again, ever so slightly, so when they faced us they were looking away from the hidden guitar. He was good, it all seemed totally natural. Now he moved again, further downhill, putting his hand up to his eyes. ‘Can you stop shining that thing at us?’

The torch flickered towards our feet.

‘No need for you to come up here.’ It was Chester who spoke, his voice low and angry. ‘Marcus sent us, he wasn’t expecting any more kids interfering.’

‘We thought we’d have a better chance of finding it than anyone else,’ said Finn, his tone patient. ‘Seeing as we were the ones who were here this afternoon. Marcus wouldn’t listen to me, but we knew more or less where to look, so we just came. But there’s nothing here. Either the police have got it, or we’ll have to wait till daylight and come back and have another go then.’

‘We’ll decide what to do,’ said the man. ‘You get lost.’

‘Suit yourselves,’ said Finn. He hesitated and then gestured to the undergrowth between where we were all standing and the underground store. ‘We thought Cami would have hidden it somewhere around here.’

The torch was immediately swung away from us towards the low trees and tangled undergrowth he had indicated. We had searched it pretty thoroughly ourselves, and got badly scratched in the process. I was pleased to see them fall for Finn’s ruse, heading immediately in that direction. I hoped they got a few scratches of their own!

‘We’ll head back down, then,’ said Finn. The only answer he got was a grunt which we took for agreement. Thank God. Finn took my hand and led me back down towards the track. I was glad to hold onto him, after the bright torchlight I couldn’t see a thing, but he was as sure-footed as ever.

We crossed the track and I thought we’d carry on downhill, but he paused.

We must be out of earshot by now so I risked a question. ‘Why didn’t you just give it to them? You want Marcus to have the picture, don’t you?’

‘I don’t trust Chester.’ I could hear the frown in his voice. ‘Marcus should never have sent those three up to search. Davy, maybe, but not the others.’

So he had his doubts about the fat guy, too. Maybe it wasn’t just me being fat-ist.

‘You think these men are going to, what, double-cross him?’

‘I don’t know. I just know I don’t trust them. Chester was far too friendly with Dex, when he thought no one was around to notice. I wouldn’t be surprised if Chester had told Dex the painting was in my tent, even if Marcus refuses to believe it. If they get hold of it there’s no saying what they’ll do. I certainly don’t think Chester’ll have much interest in whether Cami is returned safely or not.’

I felt cold. In the excitement and confusion of the last few minutes, I’d momentarily forgotten him. Poor, poor Cami. He had been badly beaten up once already this week. Now he was being held somewhere by those two sharp-suited thugs or their cronies. And if they didn’t get their painting back by midnight …

‘How much time have we got?’

Finn took out his phone. My battery had now well and truly died. He touched a button and a faint light showed. ‘Three hours, more or less.’

‘What do we do?’

‘For now, we wait. Those guys aren’t that smart and it’s even darker now than when we were looking. As long as they don’t think to look overhead, we should be okay.’

We found a place screened from the track by a stack of partially rotten logs and sank down onto the ground. It was damp, but with my trousers still wet from the river and my jacket from lying on the ground, I didn’t think it would matter. When I shivered, Finn put his arm around me and we sat there in silence. At any other time I would have been terrified to be up here in the dark, amongst the brooding trees, with angry, dangerous people around, but with Finn it was different. I couldn’t feel scared or unhappy when I was with him.

I rested my head on his shoulder and prepared to wait.

After about half an hour we heard the men returning. Their voices were heated which I hoped meant they hadn’t found anything. I relaxed ever so slightly.

‘I told you it was a fucking risk,’ said one voice as they passed along the track. ‘Now what are you going to do?’

‘We’ll tell Marcus we haven’t found it,’ said the man Davy, sounding puzzled. ‘What else would we do?’

The other man began to say something but he was cut off by fat Chester. It looked as though those two were involved in something Davy didn’t know about. I wondered what would have happened if they had found the painting. Davy was a bit slow but he seemed nice enough, he wouldn’t have wanted to let Marcus down. Would they have done something to silence him and then taken the picture for themselves? They were still blaming each other as they passed out of our hearing.

I still hadn’t sorted it all out in my mind when, five minutes later, Finn got to his feet and pulled me up beside him. ‘Time to go.’

He didn’t speak again. We moved quickly, and in my case
fairly
quietly, back up the slope. It took a while to orientate ourselves in the dark, even Finn’s night vision seemed to be struggling and he used the light of his phone a few times to help us. Then we were there, back at the tree, and the guitar was safe where we’d left it.

‘Thank goodness for larch trees,’ said Finn. He stretched up but I’d done a good job of shoving it as high as I could manage. ‘I can’t reach. I’ll lift you again, okay?’

‘Fine.’ It was a struggle, but we got it down eventually. I nearly dropped it, there wasn’t much to hold onto on the smooth leather casing, and Finn swore under his breath. I presumed it was the guitar he was worried about but it might have been the painting.

He made sure I’d got my balance and then took the case from me and opened it. The light from his phone was dimming but there was enough to show the glowing chestnut wood of the guitar and, when Finn gently lifted it out, a cardboard rectangle fitted snugly into the back of the case. He slid this out and carefully eased open the two sheets of card. There, lying between them, was a tiny, brightly coloured painting. It was an abstract, mostly yellows and oranges. More than that I couldn’t see.

‘Shit,’ I said. ‘It really is here.’ I couldn’t believe something so small, that we were holding in our hands, could be worth so much. I didn’t particularly like Picasso, especially the later ones, but still.

‘Looks like it.’

Carefully Finn closed the boards and inserted the whole thing back into the case. Then he put the guitar in and zipped up the case. He hoisted it up under one arm, took my hand with his other and headed once again back down the hill. We had done it! The painting was safe. Now all we had to do was get it back to Marcus.

I was struggling to keep up, even though Finn was the one carrying something. In the pitch black, the ground was treacherous.

He said over his shoulder, ‘Are you okay? We really need to hurry.’

‘Fine.’ That’s about all I had breath for.

When we reached the track he paused. ‘Listen. Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to stay with the guitar just inside the trees there, where we were hiding before. I’m going to run down and find Marcus and somehow let him know it’s here without involving those traitors. Marcus and I’ll be back as quickly as we can. You okay with that?’

‘Course,’ I said immediately, although actually I wasn’t, much. Waiting alone in the forest with three million pounds worth of art being sought by at least two lots of villains …

‘Brilliant.’ He bent and kissed me, brief and hard on my lips, and then he was gone.

The kiss helped a bit. It made me feel braver. I made my way as well as I could back to the place we had waited not so very long before. I settled down behind the logs. It was cold without Finn, but it wouldn’t be for long. I heard an owl moaning in the woods, and in the distance music that could have been Murdo Mensah. How strange. I didn’t even have the energy to care about missing him. I concentrated on not shivering too much and not counting the passing minutes.

How late was it now? I wished I’d asked Finn before he left. Were we going to be in time? And where was the meeting place Marcus was supposed to take the painting to?

Hurry, hurry, hurry, I chanted silently. I hoped that any moment I’d hear footsteps approaching. And then I realised it wouldn’t necessarily be Finn and Marcus who came by first, and I shivered with fear more than cold. Please hurry up. Please don’t be the thugs or the fat guy. Or the police.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

GEORGE

It seemed like forever before I heard any sound other than the wind and the rustling branches. I hadn’t actually fallen asleep but I was so cold and scared and tired I had gone into a kind of daze.

I was roused from it by footsteps, moving quickly along the track. No voices.

I stayed where I was, tensed to run, although God knows I wouldn’t have got far with the guitar in my arms.

‘George? You there?’ It was Finn, speaking softly. Even he was probably not quite sure where he was.

‘Yes.’ I rose unsteadily to my feet and pushed aside the undergrowth so I could make my way onto the track. The clouds had thinned slightly and I could see the two figures by the faint light. Finn and a taller, darker one. Marcus.
Thank goodness
.

I thrust the guitar towards them. I didn’t want anything more to do with it.

‘You kids,’ said Marcus, not sounding nearly as grateful as he should. ‘Don’t you ever do what you’re told?’

‘Lucky for you we don’t,’ said Finn. ‘I told you not to trust Chester. Right, we haven’t got much time. Where do we meet your
friends
?’

Marcus unfastened the guitar case and, like Finn, checked for himself the Picasso was still inside. He gave a deep sigh when he saw it. Then he was silent for a moment, thinking.

‘It’s after eleven,’ said Finn. ‘How far have we got to go?’

‘I’ll take it,’ said Marcus. ‘You get back to the site.’

‘No way. You’re too trusting. You can’t believe those people will do as they said. You need back up.’ Finn spoke quickly, absolutely determined. I was thinking
and we are the back up? What on earth can we do?

‘I don’t believe them,’ said Marcus, and swore under his breath. ‘But they’ve got Cami! What else can I do but turn up on my own?’

‘We’ll work something out on the way,’ said Finn. ‘Now, tell us where the meeting place is.’

Marcus sighed heavily and gave in. ‘Half way along this track, towards the village. Well hidden, but easy enough for them to get to from the road.’

‘We’ll be okay, it’s not that far,’ said Finn. ‘Come on.’

We set off at a kind of jog. The moon occasionally gave a little light, especially here on the track. Marcus carried the guitar and at first we were silent. I was glad not to be on my own anymore, and to be moving.

After ten minutes or so we paused and Marcus gestured to us to move into the shadow of the trees.

‘Okay, this is the plan. Finn is right, it’s better if I’m not totally on my own.’

He sounded decisive, suddenly, bossy in the way I was used to him being. ‘I’m going to leave you two here with the painting. I’ll go ahead and make contact with them. I’ll make damn sure they know they don’t get the goods unless I have Cami back. You got your phone, Finn? Right, here’s what we’ll do …’

I sank down on the grass and pine needles, and let them sort it out.

When Marcus left us Finn sat down on the damp ground beside me. We were already too wet and dirty to bother about getting any worse. I was still wearing his beanie and pulled it off to shake out my hair. I ran my fingers absently through the tangles, massaging my skull.

‘Poor George,’ said Finn softly. ‘You don’t deserve to be mixed up in this.’

‘Rubbish,’ I said, but only half-heartedly. I was so exhausted I just wanted it to be over. ‘Who does deserve it?’

‘Marcus,’ said Finn immediately. ‘He took the risk of hiding the painting. It was for someone who’d helped him when he was inside. That’s what he said, anyway. One favour deserves another, apparently.’

We paused for a moment, listening carefully, but there was no sound of voices ahead.

I said, ‘And do you owe Marcus a favour? Is that why you’re helping him? Or is it just because it’s family?’

‘Both,’ said Finn, after a moment. ‘I suppose I do owe Marcus. He didn’t disown me.’

At that moment we heard sounds from the direction Marcus had headed. We fell silent, listening intently.

I was suddenly fully awake. It was nerve-wracking waiting there, straining to hear words but only managing to make out the sound of an engine, then low murmuring. We had the three-million-pound painting, but they had Cami. I tried to make out his voice but couldn’t identify it. I chewed my lip. What if they hadn’t brought him along at all, what if they were holding him somewhere else? What if they planned to keep him indefinitely to ensure Marcus’s continued silence? I started to panic as these possibilities flooded in.

‘You don’t think …?’ I began but Finn just put a hand to my lips to silence me.

His phone, which he held ready in his hand, gave a low vibration. As agreed, Marcus had sent a message. Thank goodness up here they both had reception.

Wait
, said the text,
they say Cami is near but wait til I’ve seen him.

‘Is that good news?’ I said doubtfully.

Finn just grunted.

We strained once again to hear what was going on. After a while Finn actually took a few steps down the track towards them. I could tell he was tense, raring to leap into action, but what he thought he could do I didn’t know. He had the painting, protected by its cardboard covers, in his hands. The guitar had been left somewhere in the undergrowth, not important right now.

His phone buzzed again and we both craned over to read the message.
He’s here. Bring painting in five minutes.
This was part of the plan, because Marcus didn’t want the men to realise quite how close at hand their precious stolen picture was.

We watched the time pass on the phone’s digital clock. After four and a half minutes, Finn pushed the phone into my hands.

‘Take this and hide. If things sound like they’re going wrong phone the police. Immediately. Okay?’

‘No, you keep it, I’ve got my own phone.’

‘Your battery’s dead, remember?’

‘Oh. Yes.’

He took a deep breath, hitched the painting more safely under his arm – such a small thing – and set off along the track at a run. I could hear him pretending to breathe heavily, as though he had come a long way.

So now I was the one with a decision to make. I had the chance to change things.

I wanted to start giggling, it was so absurd. I was Miss Goody Goody, the class swot, the girl who rarely broke rules never mind the law. Look what happened when I told a couple of white lies so I could stay on my own at my dad’s. But now I could put things right again. I could phone the police right now and tell them to get over here. I keyed in 999 and put my finger over the ‘dial’ button. I could probably hide away in the forest until they turned up. If I timed it right, Cami would be safe with Marcus. I’d be fine, the painting would be returned to its rightful owners, surely that was for the best?

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let Finn down. He’d suffered so much. Marcus meant something to him, was family. As for me, I didn’t want to betray Cami. Or, even, possibly, Marcus. But most of all I couldn’t betray Finn.

So I just sat there and waited to see what would happen. It was nearly over now.

I wished I was a bit nearer. I could hear voices, but not what they were saying. They didn’t
seem
to be shouting but how would I know what Finn considered to be ‘things going wrong’? How long should I wait before calling the police as Finn had instructed? I was so intent on that, on listening to the sounds ahead, that I didn’t hear anyone closer at hand until the very last minute. And then a hand was slammed over my mouth and I hit the ground so hard that for a moment I was too stunned to take anything in.