The Legacy (18 page)

‘Yes,' replied Warton.

‘If I 'fess up about the money in the offshore accounts, the authorities are going to start asking all sorts of questions about how my Dad earned the money and what tax he might or might not have paid. If they think he earned the money illegally, they will most probably keep it.'

‘Yes, you should be OK though because you didn't know about the money until he died.'

‘But if I keep quiet about the money, I can use it, perhaps when I'm abroad, and the UK authorities might not find out about it.'

‘Exactly,' said Warton. ‘You need to remember that trillions of pounds move through the global financial systems every day. It's very hard to spot a few millions or hundreds of thousands being moved around illegally unless you are specifically targeting an individual and tracking his activities. You're only talking about a few thousand so, provided you're careful, you should be absolutely fine.'

‘Really?' asked Lucy.

‘Yes. To give you an example, do you remember Charles Taylor, the old Liberian leader?'

‘Yes,' replied Lucy. She'd done some research on him for her dissertation.

‘Well when he was tried a few years ago, it was estimated that he had over three hundred million dollars stashed away in various banks. Very little of it has been found so far and the chances are that it will remain hidden even though some of the best forensic accountants in the world are now trying to track it down.'

Warton got up from the table and went over to his desk to fetch the laptop. ‘If you let me have the account numbers and the passwords, I'll show you how to access the money and we can see how much your Dad built up since we opened the accounts for him.'

Lucy and Isobel watched as he switched the computer on and then, over the course of the next hour, logged into each of the three accounts. It was no more complicated than using the online facility that most high street banks now provided. Warton also requested a debit card in Lucy's name to be sent from one of the banks to his office. He explained that doing this provided a link between her and the account and that she should therefore only keep a modest amount in it, transferring money in from the other accounts as and when required. There was still a risk associated with doing this but he felt that it was the most pragmatic way of giving her access to the money. ‘Just be careful with the card and keep the balance in that account reasonably low. The card should be here in a few days. If you leave me your number, I'll phone you when it arrives so you can come and collect it or I can send it to you,' he said to Lucy.

Lucy and Isobel left Warton's office about thirty minutes later. They'd both asked more questions, particularly when Warton confirmed that her father had managed to build up a total of five and a half million pounds in the three accounts.

‘You're even richer than you were yesterday,' said Isobel, squeezing her friend's shoulder as they walked back towards Grassmarket. ‘One minute you were a struggling student, buying secondhand climbing gear in a dodgy shop in Kathmandu, the next you're planning which executive jet to buy!'

‘Yes. But I'd still rather have Dad here,' replied Lucy, wistfully. ‘I miss him and what saddens me most is there was obviously a side of him that I knew absolutely nothing about. I thought he just did the odd security job for a few friends. If I'm honest, before all this I thought he must have had quite a sad sort of life. He had Kate and his ex-army mates but I didn't realise he was actually jetting round the world as some sort of high end hit man, knocking people off for hundreds of thousands of pounds and then stashing the money away in offshore accounts. It's all a bit unbelievable, like something out of a movie. I keep expecting someone to tell me that there's been a mistake.'

‘I see what you mean,' said Isobel. ‘It's a bit like that film with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jamie-Lee Curtis. She thinks she's married to Mr Boring. She wants a bit more excitement in her life so she starts to have a fling with some secondhand car salesman who pretends to be a secret agent. Only it turns out that Mr Boring is actually the real spy.'

‘
True Lies
,' said Lucy, ‘that's the name of the film.'

‘Yes, well it's a bit like that isn't it?'

‘I suppose so,' said Lucy reflectively. ‘Come on and I'll buy you lunch with some of my ill gotten gains. I want to go to the pub that Dad had his last drink in. That nice rugby playing policeman mentioned its name when we saw him. It's not far from here, only you won't remember because you were too busy flirting with him rather than paying attention to what he was saying.'

‘That's not fair,' said Isobel, looking hurt. ‘OK, it is fair but he was extremely nice. I even like his name,”Jake”. It's sort of manly. I might even go watch him play rugby this Saturday if we're still here. I prefer him to Mr Warton. I thought he was a bit too smooth. I'm not sure I'd trust him.'

‘I know what you mean,' said Lucy. ‘But he's got as much to lose as we have if he admits any of this to anybody.'

‘How do you mean?' asked Isobel.

‘Well, for one thing, I've got this,' said Lucy, bringing out a small tape recorder from her pocket. ‘I bought it last year when I broke my arm. I dictated one or two chapters of my dissertation into it and got one of the university secretaries to type it up for me. It worked really well.'

‘You clever thing,' said Isobel, genuinely impressed. ‘I didn't see you turn it on.'

‘No, I switched it on when we went up in the lift. I didn't tell you because I thought you might find it difficult to be natural. I'm sorry.'

‘That's OK,' said Isobel. She smiled at her friend. ‘I wouldn't have trusted me either. I'd have probably said something and given the game away.'

Lucy linked her arm through her friend's and steered her down the hill towards Holyrood House Palace. The pub her father had been attacked outside was down one of the side streets midway between the Castle and the Palace. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out. It was a text from Harry. He was in UK and heading down to Dartmoor to see Camilla. He would phone early afternoon to catch up. She smiled as he had ended his text with a few crosses.

‘Anything important?' asked Isobel, noticing her friend's smile.

‘It's Harry. He's landed at Heathrow and he's on his way to see his friend in hospital. He'll phone later this afternoon when he's seen her.'

‘Is he going to come and see us?' asked Isobel.

‘Doesn't say. I hope so but I'll ask him when he phones.' She sent him a quick reply. ‘Come on, Isobel,' she barked, increasing the pace in an attempt to avoid any further discussion about Harry. So much had happened in the week or so since she'd kissed him goodbye that she hadn't really had time to think about what might happen next. If she was honest with herself, she wasn't really sure what she felt about him. She knew she wanted to see him again soon, but whether as a friend or as a lover she didn't really know.

Chapter 37

Harry's phone lit up as Lucy's reply arrived. He'd just pulled off the Devon Expressway and was heading into Ashburton. He'd agreed with Ellie that he would stop at her house and that they would then go to the hospital together to see Camilla. That way he would have the chance to chat things through with Ellie and try and work out what to do next before he saw Camilla. He headed into the centre of Ashburton and found a parking space in the main car park. He hadn't been to the town for years. The last time was to visit a girlfriend whose father had owned an antique shop on the high street. The shop specialised in fireplaces and, over the course of a very enjoyable weekend, much of it spent in a pub with the girlfriend and her father, he'd learned more about fireplaces than he suspected he would ever need to know. He looked at Lucy's reply. ‘Glad you're safely here. Looking forward to seeing you. Speak later. Lucy. XX.' Harry was relieved. It was short and sharp but definitely positive. He wondered whether she'd put the kisses after the text because he had or whether she would have done this even if he hadn't. ‘Why do I do this to myself?' he said aloud. ‘I should just be happy that she's OK and that she's replied.'

Harry got out of the car and walked into the centre of the town. He had been driving for about five hours and he needed to stretch his legs and get something to eat. He'd forgotten how lovely Ashburton was. Nestled at the foot of the moors, it looked reasonably prosperous. He noticed there were even more antique shops than when he'd first come here but there were also more delicatessens and a few new cafes. A few of the outdoor equipment shops that he remembered were still there, including one which had a mannequin dressed as a climber half way up the outside wall. It made him smile. He was all for local businesses and he made a mental note to buy any outdoor clothing he needed from the shop.

He found a cafe and ordered a bacon sandwich and a coffee. It was next to a large secondhand bookshop which appeared to be doing a brisk trade. He found a table in the window and watched the world go by as he waited for his food to arrive. The people outside were a mix of walkers, locals doing their shopping and one or two obviously foreign tourists.

‘Bacon roll and a coffee?' asked a girl in a waitress' outfit.

‘Yes, thank you,' said Harry, looking up. The girl who served him looked about sixteen. ‘Probably a holiday job,' thought Harry. He ate the sandwich and drank the coffee. Both were excellent and he ordered another coffee ‘to go' for the journey up onto the moor.

Harry left the cafe and returned to his car. He checked his phone again. No messages. He sent a quick text to Ellie telling her that he would be with her within the hour and drove the car out of the car park, turning left towards Hay Tor. Ten minutes later, he rounded a bend and saw Hay Tor in front of him. It was impressive. The mist had cleared and he could clearly make out people on the top. He pulled onto the verge to see if he could see where Camilla must have fallen. She was lucky to be alive. The rock face was sheer for about a hundred feet. He could see climbers dotted across it. The odds of Camilla falling onto a climber who just happened to be secured to a rope whilst he checked the looseness of the rock were thousands to one against. She was very lucky. If the weather had been clear, Harry suspected that whoever had tried to kill her would have been able to see that he had failed. In a way, the mist saved her life. Without it the killer might well have noticed the climbers on his walk to the top.

Harry pulled back onto the road and drove towards Ellie's house. It took him thirty minutes to reach the valley below North Bovey. He had enjoyed the journey. The landscape was truly beautiful. Though the hills were windswept and desolate, the valleys were wooded, with streams cascading down the hillsides. There were very few houses. He'd noticed one or two but there weren't many and they were miles apart. One particular house had caught his attention when he'd had to pull in to let a car going in the opposite direction get past him. It was called ‘Moor Crest.' In its heyday it must have been a truly wonderful family home. He wondered what it must have been like to grow up in the middle of Dartmoor. ‘Not easy,' he thought to himself. ‘Fine if you're older but much harder for a teenager.' He kept going until he arrived in North Bovey and saw the pub. Ellie had given him directions from there to her house and he had little difficulty finding the track that led up to the old barn. He parked next to an old Land Rover, killed the engine and got out. The door of the old barn opened and he recognised Ellie.

‘Hello stranger!' she said as she hugged him. ‘Didn't think I'd be seeing you again.'

‘No, I don't suppose I expected to see you again quite so soon either.' Harry smiled. He'd always liked Ellie. She could be dogmatic and argumentative but they'd always found common ground. He also admired her. He knew that coming out had been hard for her and that, even now, her parents disapproved.

‘How's Camilla doing?' asked Harry.

‘She's alive,' replied Ellie, leading him into the house. ‘But she's badly hurt and it's going to take a while for her to recover fully. She regained consciousness about an hour or so ago. Sarah spoke to her briefly but she's very tired. The police aren't really interested in talking to her, “as and when” apparently. They still think she fell off the top. In fact, if I'm honest, I think they think she was a bit of an idiot to be up there in the first place given how bad the weather was. They haven't said it but I wouldn't be surprised if secretly they think she was trying to kill herself.'

‘Really?' replied Harry. ‘They just don't want the hassle of having to investigate a murder.' He put on a comic Devonshire accent: ‘This is Devon. Murders don't happen down here. Bad for the tourist business.'

Ellie smiled. ‘That's probably exactly what it is. But Sarah's with her now so I'm happy that she's in good hands.'

‘Is Sarah the nurse?' asked Harry.

‘No,' replied Ellie sheepishly, ‘she's my partner.'

‘Really? That's great. I can't wait to meet her,' said Harry, trying not to embarrass Ellie.

‘Yes. But be nice to her Harry or I'll get mad with you. We've only being living together for about a year and Camilla's the first of my old friends that she's met. I don't want you to frighten her away with any of your army banter.'

Harry laughed. He had no intention of frightening her at all. In fact, he was deeply grateful to her for helping to look after Camilla. He was also intrigued to see what sort of girl Ellie had found. He looked around the kitchen to see if there were any photographs of the two of them together but he couldn't see any.

‘I'm sorry you and Camilla broke up,' said Ellie, handing Harry a cup of coffee.

‘It was tough but I suspect it was for the best,' replied Harry. ‘We both wanted such different things that our relationship was starting to come apart. We tried, but her paintings were starting to sell and she was beginning to earn some real money at last. The last thing she wanted to do was to go to Africa with me.'

‘I understand. I don't suppose I'll ever have that problem,' said Ellie laughing.

‘Nonsense,' replied Harry, ‘Camilla told me that your work is becoming very popular down here.'

‘True but it takes so long. I'm still having to teach to supplement the income but I'm optimistic that I'll get there eventually. Drink up and we'll go to the hospital and see Camilla. I'll drive, you must be knackered.'

‘Thank you,' said Harry, following her out of the door.

It took about an hour to reach the hospital in Ellie's Land Rover. They chatted throughout the journey, catching up on each other's news and trying to make some sense of what had happened to Camilla.

‘We both know Camilla,' said Ellie. ‘She's tough and determined but I've never seen her so scared before. I think there's a lot more to this than meets the eye and I wouldn't be at all surprised if there really was someone trying to kill her.'

‘But why?' asked Harry.

‘The only thing I can think of,' replied Ellie, ‘is that somebody thinks she knows something about the death of that Peter Fairweather chap. It must have been awful for her to wake up and find the man she'd spent the night with had died whilst she was asleep.'

They arrived at the hospital. It was clearly busy and it took them a while to find somewhere to park. Eventually, they made it into the hospital, taking the lift to intensive care.

‘If she's starting to recover, why's she still in intensive care?' asked Harry.

‘They're still worried about possible damage to the brain,' replied Ellie. ‘She had a hell of a fall and she has only just started to regain consciousness. They'll keep her where she is until they're absolutely sure she's OK. As soon as we can though, I'd like to get her home.'

The lift doors opened and they could see the door to intensive care. Ellie rang a buzzer. A nurse answered and, once they'd confirmed who they were, she let them in. Harry noticed how quiet it was. There were lots of nurses and doctors but very few patients. He could see Camilla at the far end of the ward. She had three or four tubes going into her and she was connected to a bank of machines. A TV screen displayed her heart rate, blood pressure and a few other vital signs that Harry didn't recognise. Camilla looked to be asleep. As they approached, a very attractive blonde girl of about Harry's own age came out from behind a screen and smiled.

‘Hi,' she said, ‘I'm Sarah.'

‘Hello,' said Harry, shaking her hand. He was genuinely taken aback. He wasn't sure what he'd expected but he hadn't expected this. She was truly beautiful. She kissed Ellie on both cheeks and then started to tell them how Camilla had been doing.

‘She was conscious for about thirty minutes. She wasn't very lucid but the doctor explained that it might just be the effect of the painkillers she's on. They've put her shoulder back in and set the leg.'

Harry looked at Camilla. She was in a hospital gown and the pot on her leg was clearly visible. She looked pale and very frail. He desperately wanted to hold her and take care of her. He moved round the side of the bed so he could hold her hand.

‘Camilla, it's me, Harry,' he put his head close to her ear and spoke softly. Her eyes flickered but nothing more. He turned to the girls. ‘Why don't you two go and get a cup of coffee and I'll stay with her for a while.'

‘OK,' said Sarah, ‘but remember, she's very tired and probably in a lot of pain. You see that control in her left hand?' Harry nodded. ‘It's got a button on it that releases morphine. If she wakes up and is in pain, get her to press it a few times. It takes a few minutes to take effect so make sure she doesn't get carried away. The nurse looking after her is called Rachel. She's the one with the short, dark hair over there.' Sarah pointed towards a central isle.

Harry could see the nurse that Sarah was taking about. ‘I see her,' he said.

‘They have a copy of the vital signs screen over there so if anything happens, they'll come over. There's one nurse for every two patients so don't worry about calling Rachel over if you get worried about anything.'

‘OK, thank you,' said Harry, pulling up a chair and sitting close to the bed so he could hold Camilla's hand. He kept talking to her quietly, hoping that she would at least hear his voice, even if she couldn't understand what he was saying. He started telling her what he'd been doing in Nepal. After about fifteen minutes, Camilla opened her eyes. Harry watched them struggle to focus. He stood up so she could see him.

‘Hello,' he said to her. Her eyes widened as she recognised him. She tried speaking but only managed a croak. Rachel came over.

‘Hello,' she said to Camilla. ‘Do you want some water?' Camilla nodded her head slowly. Rachel held a small glass of water to her lips. ‘Slowly,' she ordered. ‘There's no rush, plenty more where that came from.'

The water seemed to give Camilla life. She smiled slowly. ‘Hello Fish, you took your time getting here.'

Harry could feel the relief flooding over him. ‘Thank God,' he said to himself. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. ‘You certainly know how to scare the shit of me don't you? How do you feel?' he asked her.

‘Not too good. I woke up a few hours ago, or at least I think it was a few hours ago, and Sarah explained what had happened. She told me I was very lucky to be alive. I don't feel very lucky! I've got a hell of a headache, my shoulder's killing me and I don't think I'll be walking for a while.'

‘It'll take time but you're out of the woods. As soon as the doctors are happy that you're starting to mend, we'll get you home to Ellie's. Can you remember what happened?' asked Harry.

‘A bit. I remember being on the top of Hay Tor and then someone pushed me. I didn't slip. I was close to the edge but not that close. Boot started barking and I was turning round to see if he was OK. And then I felt a huge push in the small of my back and I was falling. But I saw him Harry. I saw the bloke who pushed me. He had the deadest eyes I've ever seen. He had a hoody on but I'll never forget his face. I'd definitely recognise him if I saw him again.'

Harry's pulse started to quicken. ‘Really? We need to tell the police. I wonder why he tried to kill you?' he asked.

‘I don't know. I can only assume that it's got something to do with Peter Fairweather's death. Either that or someone bought one of my paintings, decided they didn't like it and thought they'd get their own back on me when I refused to give them their money back!'

Harry smiled at Camilla's attempt at humour. It wasn't very funny but it was a good sign. She was returning to normal.

‘Do you think you could describe your attacker to the police?' asked Harry.