The Legacy (14 page)

‘Fuck me Luce,' said Isobel. ‘This isn't quite what I expected.'

‘Nor me,' said Lucy, taking several thick pieces of paper out of the envelope and unfolding them slowly. She started to read as Isobel poured them both a glass of water from the jug on the table. Isobel watched her friend's face for her reaction but Lucy remained unemotional.

After ten minutes, Lucy put the letter down. Though she was dying to know what the letter said, Isobel waited for her friend to speak.

‘McLeod was right,' said Lucy, her voice full of emotion. ‘It's all here. The names of the people he's killed, the amount he was paid for each job and the numbers of the bank accounts in which he's deposited all the money, along with the passwords and codes necessary to get it released. I can't believe it. I can't believe my Dad would do such a thing.'

‘I'm sure he had his reasons,' said Isobel. ‘He was a good bloke, not some thug.'

‘He asks me not to judge him but to accept his word that the people he killed were bad people who deserved to die. People who were beyond the law; people, he says in the letter, like the boy who killed my mother.'

‘There you go,' said Isobel, struggling to think what else to say. Isobel remembered Lucy telling her that the boy who had driven the car into her mother had been killed in some sort of tragic accident shortly after he'd been released from prison. Isobel couldn't remember all the facts but she remembered that he'd apparently fallen to his death from the Firth of Forth Bridge after a dare went wrong. She didn't want to ask whether Lucy's father had admitted to killing him in the letter.

Lucy took a deep breath and continued. ‘He says he was concerned that something might happen to him. He had a bad feeling, he says. His regular contact was apparently a man called Richards. The chap had asked to meet him but something in Richards's voice had alerted him. He says he couldn't put his finger on it but his sixth sense was tingling and, as it had saved his life so many times in the past, he was taking precautions. He says that if I'm reading this letter, then he's dead and that if his death was violent, it was probably caused by Richards. Oh Isobel, what am I going to do? He says that Richards is extremely dangerous and that we shouldn't go looking for him. The only reason he says he's explaining all this is that he thinks there's a slight chance that Richards might come after me because he might think that I know all about what he's been up to. He wants me to take the money, which he says is about three and a half million pounds in his UK bank accounts plus quite a lot more in offshore ones, and go and hide out abroad for a few years until things calm down. He says I can trust McLeod one hundred percent but that on no account should I go to the police.' Lucy stared at her friend, her eyes welling up.

‘I suppose that makes sense,' replied Isobel. ‘If he's spent the last ten years trotting round the globe killing people, I don't suppose the police would be very sympathetic.' She saw her friend wince as she spoke. ‘I'm sorry Lucy. That was insensitive of me.'

‘That's all right. I know what you mean about the police,' said Lucy.

‘Don't worry Luce, we'll sort it out.' Isobel tried to sound reassuring but she had no idea what to do. Indeed, she was already starting to feel scared that someone might have followed them to the solicitors. ‘First things first Luce, let's do what your Dad wanted and write the details of the offshore bank accounts down. At least then you'll have the money to leave the country if it starts getting hairy.'

Lucy forced herself to calm down, taking deep breaths until her heartbeat returned to normal and she stopped crying. ‘You're right Isobel, I need to get a grip of myself for my Dad's sake. I'll read the numbers out, you write them down. My hands are still so shaky that I don't think I could write straight at the moment.'

Five minutes later they'd copied down all the information they needed from the letter. Isobel went to get McLeod. He returned, looking sombre. ‘Everything OK?' he asked.

‘Yes, I think so,' replied Lucy. ‘You were right about how he made his money. Thank you for warning me. It's quite a shock.'

‘Yes, I imagine it is. Are there any questions you want me to try and answer?' asked McLeod.

‘Thank you but no, not at the moment. I need to think about what's in the letter but, if I may, could I come and see you again in a few days time if I need to?' asked Lucy.

‘Yes, of course you may,' replied McLeod. ‘As soon as the police and the sheriff's office have confirmed the cause of your father's death, we should be able to get on with implementing his last wishes. It shouldn't take more than a week or so as his will was all correct and in order. Again, I probably shouldn't tell you this yet but he left about half a million to a Miss Catherine Newton. I don't know whether you know her?'

‘Kate? Yes, I do. She was a close friend of my father's. I think she was his girlfriend, though it sounds odd describing a fifty-year-old as a girlfriend.'

‘You can give her an idea of what's in the will but, as I said, it won't be confirmed until after confirmation. We'll then invite you and her for the formal reading of the will. In the meantime, if you need an advance or anything to help cover the costs of your father's funeral, do let me know as we can certainly arrange something.'

‘Thank you,' said Lucy standing up. ‘What do you want me to do with the letter?' she asked.

He handed her a lighter. ‘If you would be good enough to hold it over the bin near the desk and set fire to it, I'd be very grateful. If your father had wanted me to see it, he'd have shown it to me.'

Lucy did as she was asked, dropping the last few charred bits of the letter into the bin and watching as they curled up and turned to ash. She then gave McLeod her mobile phone number and, shaking his hand as she left the office, she went out into the street with Isobel.

‘What now?' asked Isobel.

‘A drink. I need a drink. It's not every day you find out that your Dad was a hitman and that he's left you several millions in order that you can escape from some psychopathic murderer who's probably, even as we speak, trying to work out how to kill us.'

Isobel laughed in spite of the circumstances, grateful for the release. The tough old Lucy that she knew of old was returning.

Chapter 29

Camilla woke up to the sound of Radio Four's
Today
programme. It was a bit distant but she could make out Sarah Montague, the presenter, giving some senior intelligence analyst a hard time about the west's inability to predict terrorist atrocities. Her door was open and the sound was coming from downstairs. She looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table and noticed the cup of tea. She hadn't heard anyone come into the room but the tea was hot and had obviously only been there for a few minutes. She sat up in bed and took a long drink. Hot and sweet, exactly as she liked it.

Sarah appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in her jeans and looked as though she'd been up for hours.

‘Good morning, how did you sleep?' she asked.

‘Well, thank you,' replied Camilla. ‘Thank you for the tea.'

‘You're welcome,' said Sarah. ‘There's no rush but I've made you a bacon sandwich if you'd like one. I can bring it up here if you want.'

‘Thank you,' replied Camilla, ‘I'll come downstairs. Just give me a minute.'

Sarah smiled and went downstairs. Camilla could hear her talking to the dog as she went past its basket. It barked excitedly as Sarah opened the outside door, letting the dog into the garden. Camilla got out of bed and put her dressing gown on over her t-shirt and pull ups. There was a mirror on the wall and she caught a quick glimpse of her face. Much better than last night, she thought to herself, the bags under her eyes were going and her skin looked less puffy. She went in to the bathroom, used the toilet and then splashed water on her face. ‘That's better,' she thought to herself. She picked up her cup of tea and went downstairs. Sarah was just putting a bacon sandwich on the kitchen table.

‘There you go,' said Sarah. ‘There's more if you want it. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for a few hours. Ellie's gone into Morton to get the papers and to talk to some bloke about a trailer he's selling. She'll be back for lunch. We thought we'd go to the pub. I don't know when you were last here but the food's good and it'll get us out of the house.'

‘Sounds great,' replied Camilla. ‘I could do with a bit of fresh air. Thank you for the sandwich,' she said, taking a mouthful. It was good. The bacon was thick and the bread tasted as though it was home made. They chatted amicably whilst Camilla ate her sandwich and drank her tea. Sarah was a real gem, thought Camilla. ‘I'm not keeping you from work am I?' asked Camilla.

‘Not at all,' replied Sarah. ‘One of the benefits of being a teacher is the holidays. We broke up for half term last Friday and Ellie and I have both got two weeks off. So you're not keeping us from anything at all, except watching day time TV and arguing about whose turn it is to walk the dog.'

Camilla laughed. ‘You're not going away?' she asked.

‘No,' replied Sarah. ‘We've got workmen coming in next week to plaster the third bedroom and start work on the old stable block. We're turning it into a studio for Ellie. Her work's starting to sell and we're running out of space for all her stuff. She's been painting in the kitchen but it's not ideal. Boot keeps chewing tubes of paint and he peed on one of Ellie's canvasses last week so we've borrowed some more money and decided to get on with the studio. I'll show you if you like when you're dressed, it's really exciting.' Her enthusiasm was infectious and Camilla couldn't help thinking how lucky she and Ellie were to have found each other.

‘OK,' she said. ‘Thanks for breakfast. I'll go and get dressed.' With that, she put her dishes in the sink and went upstairs. Ellie and Sarah were so welcoming and such easygoing company that her worries were starting to fade. She felt a thousand times more secure than she had in London. It had been a good idea of Harry's to spend a few days with Ellie on Dartmoor. She decided that she'd phone him in the evening to put his mind at ease.

Camilla dressed quickly and then went downstairs. Sarah was waiting by the door with Boot. Together, they went outside and walked to the old stable block that they were converting into a studio. Sarah explained the plan. It was ambitious, thought Camilla, but it would be worth the effort. If Ellie's paintings were starting to sell as well as Sarah had suggested, then the sooner she had a decent studio, the better. Buyers are very quick to find a ‘new' artist if they can't get what they want, when they want it. Or that was her experience at least.

Chapter 30

Harry got back from town and went into his study to check his e-mail. He'd hoped to hear from Lucy the previous day but although he'd received lots of e-mails about potential jobs, there were none from her. He was due to leave for Everest the following morning and he was starting to get a bit concerned. He didn't really want to begin his trek until he knew when he had to be back otherwise he risked missing Lucy completely. He switched on his laptop and went into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee whilst the computer booted up. He was a coffee aficionado. He took a handful of beans and put them in the hopper at the top of the electric grinder. He loved the smell that the beans gave off as the grinder did its work. He scooped the ground coffee into the metal filter and attached it to the Gaggia. Camilla had bought it for him as a birthday present. It had been expensive but it made superb coffee and it was well worth the money. Hissing and wheezing, it forced boiling water through the compacted coffee grinds to produce a slow stream of steaming brown liquid. Eventually it stopped and he added a spoonful of brown sugar, picked up the cup and headed back to his office, sipping the coffee as he went.

He sat at his desk and clicked on to his e-mail. There was a fair bit of rubbish but he spotted the e-mail from Lucy almost straight away. He opened it and read it quickly. It explained that she had had to leave Nepal urgently because of what had happened to her father and that he had died before she'd managed to get to the hospital. It was short and to the point but it also said that she wanted to see him again. Once things calmed down, she said that she'd try and get back to Nepal before he started his next assignment, whenever that might be.

Harry sat back in his chair and took a long drink of his coffee. ‘Bugger me,' he said aloud, opening one of the desk drawers and fumbling for the pack of cigarettes and the lighter that he knew were there. He found the packet of Camels, took one of the cigarettes out and lit it. He inhaled deeply. He'd tried to give up but sometimes, particularly when he was under real pressure or deeply disappointed, it helped him relax. ‘Of all the bad luck,' he thought to himself, ‘poor Lucy.' He started to type a response, telling her that he was sorry for her loss and that he would miss her but that he would be in Kathmandu for several months yet if she wanted to come back out when things were calmer. He re-read his draft several times before he sent it. Whilst he was disappointed, he wanted to remain up-beat for Lucy's sake, though, if he were honest with himself, he actually wanted to fly to the UK immediately, take Lucy in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right. But he suspected that it was too early in their relationship for this. He didn't want to frighten her off. He thought about this for several minutes. In every relationship, he thought, someone has to make the first move towards real commitment even though, in doing it, they risked rejection. He'd thought he would be happy to make the first move, perhaps when Lucy was back in Kathmandu, but he wasn't so sure now. Dejected, he went to the bathroom to run a bath. He hoped that Lucy would reply quickly and that her reply would give him an idea of when he might see her again.