11 - Ticket to Oblivion Page 21

  Madeleine smiled. ‘I didn’t know you were a master of deception, Robert.’

  ‘I have more than one string to my bow.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘There are so many, I’ve lost count of them.’

  Reaching for his hat, he was about to leave when a thought detained him.

  ‘I wish that I could take you with me, Madeleine,’ he said.

  ‘Wouldn’t I be a distraction?’

  ‘You’d be a godsend to Imogen Burnhope and her maid. For days now, they’ve been in the hands of two heartless men whom they must have suspected by now of misleading them. What sort of ill-treatment have they had to endure? What kind of despair are they feeling?’

  ‘It’s impossible to imagine,’ she said with a sigh of sympathy.

  ‘If indeed they are released, what they will see are three detectives and Sir Marcus Burnhope. What they really need at that moment, however, is not a quartet of men but an understanding woman who can console and reassure them.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘You’d fit that role perfectly.’

  ‘Thank you, Robert.’

  ‘It would make things much easier for them.’

  ‘What would Superintendent Tallis say?’

  Colbeck laughed. ‘His cry of rage would echo across six counties.’

  ‘One day, he’ll have to accept the value of women in law enforcement.’

  ‘That day is centuries away,’ he said, bestowing a farewell kiss. ‘We’ve yet to convince our dear superintendent to accept the value of women.’

  Ironically, the locomotive that took them to Oxford was Will Shakspere. When they boarded the train at Shrub Hill, Edward Tallis and Sir Marcus Burnhope didn’t realise that it was the same engine that had taken the two fugitives on the first stage of their flight. In the comfort of their first-class compartment, both men complained when wisps of acrid smoke seeped in as they went through the Mickleton Tunnel. It never occurred to them that the driver and the fireman would be enshrouded in the billowing smoke because they had no protection whatsoever from it or from the elements. Concern for his fellow men was not something that Sir Marcus ever felt, especially when he was helping to pilot punitive legislation through the House of Commons.

  ‘What if they attempt some subterfuge?’ he asked.

  ‘I think it unlikely, Sir Marcus. The kidnappers will realise that they can’t get away with deception again.’

  ‘These loathsome wretches are as slippery as eels.’

  ‘Eels can be caught with the right net,’ said Tallis, complacently. ‘The name of that net is Inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘I hope that he’ll be at Oxford station to greet us.’

  ‘He’ll not only be there, he’ll have hired transport to take us to the location of the exchange. You may expect a protest from him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Colbeck won’t be at all happy that you are planning to hand over the money yourself.’

  ‘Imogen is my daughter!’ bellowed Sir Marcus.

  ‘It’s your personal safety that we have to consider.’

  ‘I don’t give a fig for that, man. In order to get her back, I’ll face any kind of danger. Well,’ he went on, ‘wouldn’t you do the same if it was a daughter of yours?’

  ‘I’m not married, Sir Marcus.’

  ‘You should be. It would make you less stuffy.’

  Tallis was dumbfounded. Nobody had ever dared to say such a thing to him. He felt insulted, particularly as the criticism came for a man whose commitments as a senior politician left him with almost no time to forge a bond with his only child. It took the superintendent fifteen minutes before he was able to speak again.

  ‘Why not let Colbeck accompany you at the exchange, Sir Marcus?’

  ‘The ransom demand stipulated that I should be there alone.’

  ‘You could feign weakness and in need of someone to support you.’

  ‘I’m not that decrepit yet, Tallis.’

  ‘It was only an idea.’

  ‘Please refrain from having another one.’

  ‘I’ll do as you wish, Sir Marcus.’

  Tallis retreated into silence. Travelling with a member of the aristocracy meant a reversal of roles for him. Instead of being in charge and above contradiction, he was forced to do as he was told. It made him think of his days as a schoolboy when he was under the thumb of a despotic headmaster who liked to enforce his edicts with the swish of a cane. Sir Marcus had not actually struck him but Tallis felt that the remark about his bachelorhood was akin to the punishment he’d received at school. Both had left a lasting sting and a burning resentment.

  The train steamed noisily into Oxford station and Tallis was pleased to see his detectives waiting on the platform. He now had allies. Sir Marcus stepped onto the platform first with the superintendent just behind him. Colbeck and Leeming came across to greet them.

  ‘Is everything ready?’ asked Sir Marcus.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck. ‘The two of you will travel in the trap while the sergeant and I follow on horseback.’

  Leeming was dubious. ‘Is that really such a good idea, sir? I still think we should have hired a second trap.’

  ‘Use your head, man,’ said Tallis, putting steel into his voice now that he had someone of inferior rank to bully. ‘How can you go in pursuit of these villains in a trap when they may be riding swift horses? Your proposal is inane.’

  ‘Not to me, it isn’t,’ said Leeming under his breath.

  ‘There’s been a change of plan, Inspector,’ Tallis went on, hoping to enlist Colbeck’s aid. ‘Sir Marcus has suggested that he should hand over the money.’

  ‘It’s not a suggestion,’ said Sir Marcus, ‘it’s a decision.’

  ‘Then it’s one that I applaud,’ said Colbeck.

  Tallis was deeply hurt. ‘I expected you to support me.’

  ‘I fear that I’m not able to do that, sir.’

  ‘Why ever not? You were the one who insisted on handling the exchange on the first occasion and you were right to do so.’

  ‘This time is very different,’ explained Colbeck. ‘When I disguised myself as Sir Marcus, I was too far away from the kidnapper to be identified properly. As it happened, neither of the hostages was present. With luck, they will be there today. What will happen if Sir Marcus’s daughter sees me posing as her father? She and her maid are bound to be startled and give me away. They will both suffer as a result. Is that what you wish to achieve? No,’ he added, ‘only Sir Marcus will suffice today, Superintendent. I will remain hiding in the trees with you and the sergeant.’

  Tallis felt injured. Sir Marcus applied plenty of salt to the wounds.

  ‘There you are,’ he said, breezily. ‘Listen to the inspector. He thinks more clearly than you, acts more sensibly and puts the fate of my daughter first. You should learn from Colbeck. He could teach you a lot.’

  Sergeant Cullen didn’t actually carry out his threat to sleep in the same room as them but he left the door open between the adjoining rooms so that he could hear everything they said. Imogen and her maid passed a sleepless night. They felt horribly exposed and maltreated. Breakfast was served early in their room and Cullen stood over them while they ate it. He then put the tray outside the room for a servant to collect it. When Captain Whiteside came into the room, he was in a buoyant mood.

  ‘Right,’ he said, pointing to Rhoda, ‘you’re coming with us.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘We have a rendezvous with Sir Marcus Burnhope.’

  Imogen stood up. ‘Why can’t I come?’

  ‘Because I don’t need you,’ he replied. ‘Rhoda will be enough to convince him that I’m in earnest.’

  ‘But I want to see my father.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune, haven’t you?’ jeered Cullen.

  ‘The reason you ended up here is that you couldn’t wait to run away from him. One minute you hate your father; the next, you’re dying to go back to him.’

  ‘Imogen is goin
g nowhere,’ said Whiteside. He glanced at Cullen. ‘You still haven’t recognised Manus, have you?’

  ‘It’s because they never really look at me, Terence. They’ve only had eyes for their gallant saviour, Captain Whiteside, who came to their rescue when they needed him.’ Leering at the women, he lowered his voice to emit a loud growl. ‘Arrrrrrgh!’

  Realisation dawning, Imogen and Rhoda drew back in alarm.

  ‘It’s him,’ gibbered Rhoda. ‘It’s that terrible man who leapt out at us in Christ Church Meadow. He wasn’t a vagabond at all. He was hiding there on purpose.’

  ‘Yes,’ confirmed Whiteside, ‘and he’d also grown a beard and blacked his face for the purpose. Manus is a good actor. He even frightened me.’

  While the men shared a guffaw, Imogen was horrified at how easily she and Rhoda had been tricked by the ruse. Whiteside had first won her gratitude, then proceeded to win her love and trust. The truth was humiliating. It made her feel both reckless and embarrassingly immature.

  ‘It’s time to go,’ said Whiteside.

  ‘I demand that you take me,’ declared Imogen, leaping to her feet.

  He sniggered. ‘You’re not exactly in a position to make demands, are you?’

  ‘I need to see my father.’

  ‘Rhoda can give him your regards.’

  ‘If you leave me here alone,’ she warned, ‘I’ll bang on that door and scream aloud until somebody lets me out.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you won’t be in a position to do so.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Manus,’ he ordered. ‘Fetch the rope.’

  As the Irishman went off into the next room, Rhoda challenged the captain.

  ‘You can’t tie her up,’ she insisted. ‘It’s indecent.’

  ‘It’s practical. With a gag in her mouth, she won’t be able to call for help.’ Taking Imogen by the shoulders, he forced her to sit down on an upright chair. Cullen returned with two lengths of rope. ‘Truss her up like a turkey, Manus. I want her to sit there quietly until we come back for her.’

  ‘Leave it to me, Terence,’ said Cullen, standing behind Imogen.

  ‘No,’ she said with more anger than fear. ‘It’s inhuman.’

  ‘And I won’t let you do it,’ vowed Rhoda, dashing forward to snatch the ropes from the sergeant’s hands. ‘I’ll stop you somehow.’

  Whiteside reacted at speed. Grabbing the maid from behind, he spun her round then slapped both of her cheeks with such force that she fell backwards onto the bed. Cullen retrieved the ropes.

  ‘I did warn you that Captain Whiteside wasn’t a gentleman,’ he said, grinning.

  They got there well in advance of the time stated and took up a position in the trees. As he surveyed the scene below, Colbeck noticed that there was now a significant difference to what they’d seen earlier. Running through the heart of the vale was a busy stream, glistening in the sunshine. The only visible place to cross was over a stone bridge. When they’d driven down to it on the previous day, he and Leeming had seen that it was just wide enough for a trap to go across. Larger vehicles would have to use a much bigger bridge over a mile away or ride even further afield to cross by means of a ford. Even a trap could not cross the stone bridge now. A massive rock had been rolled into place so that it restricted the width by almost two feet. There was no way that Sir Marcus would be able to move the obstruction on his own, so he’d be quite unable to cross the stream. The kidnappers wanted no pursuit when they made their escape.

  The telescope picked up something else of interest as well. On top of the rock and held in place by a small stone was a piece of white paper, flapping in the breeze. Colbeck believed that the paper contained the instructions for Sir Marcus. It meant that the kidnappers were already there, concealed in the copse on the other side of the vale. Their own telescope would undoubtedly be in use. Taking his watch out, he checked the time, then turned to Sir Marcus.

  ‘There’s the best part of twenty minutes to wait,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sitting up here that long,’ answered Sir Marcus, impatiently. ‘I want my daughter back.’

  ‘You’ll find a letter waiting for you on the bridge.’

  Sir Marcus climbed back into the trap and lifted up the leather bag containing the ransom. Loath to part with it, he accepted that he had no choice if he wished to see his daughter alive again. He put the bag between his feet, snatched up the reins and flicked them. The horse trotted forward and the trap soon came into full view of anyone overlooking the vale. Colbeck saw something glinting among the trees.

  ‘It’s a telescope,’ he said.

  Tallis was rueful. ‘You should be driving that trap.’

  ‘Sir Marcus has to go this time, sir.’

  ‘Why did you have to agree with him? In situations like this, I expect you to support me without equivocation.’

  ‘You gave the wrong advice.’

  ‘I feel the same,’ said Leeming. ‘We had to do as the kidnapper ordered.’

  ‘Sergeant,’ hissed Tallis, making him draw back into the undergrowth, ‘next time you wish to rid yourself of your mindless opinion, think twice before you open that disastrous orifice known as your mouth. I’ve heard more than enough nonsense coming out of it for one day.’

  ‘Then the same stricture applies to me, sir,’ said Colbeck, siding with his friend. ‘The sergeant is only endorsing what I said. Why don’t we all maintain a companionable silence and concentrate on the exchange? That’s what brought us here, after all.’

  Sir Marcus Burnhope was not enjoying the ride across the vale. To start with, he was unused to driving a trap. When he was at home in Worcestershire, his coachman satisfied all his travel requirements. Cabs served him well in London. He was now thrust into a novel situation, bumping over uneven ground and trying to control a horse that seemed to have a strange obsession with lurching to the left instead of following the commands of its driver. Sir Marcus had to tug hard on the reins to keep the animal heading towards the bridge.

  There was a secondary problem. He became nervous. When he’d insisted on being involved in the exchange, he’d done so with complete confidence. There’d been no whiff of fear to trouble him. Now that he was on his way to the fateful encounter, doubts and anxieties emerged. Without any weapon at his disposal, he was on his way to meet two deserters from the army, hardened men who’d routinely borne arms and been taught to use them. All of a sudden, Sir Marcus realised how brave Colbeck had been in impersonating him at the first exchange. Making light of the fact that a gun was probably trained on him, the inspector had walked imperturbably into an open field. Sir Marcus, on the other hand, was deeply perturbed. His hands began to shake. The only thing which kept him going was the prospect of securing his daughter’s freedom. Between his feet, the leather bag with the money in it seemed hot against his ankles. Sweat broke out on his brow and under his arms.

  It was a long ride to the bridge but he eventually reached it, bringing the horse to a halt nearby. He saw the piece of paper fluttering in the wind and alighted from the trap. When he moved the stone and read the message, it was blunt.

  PUT THE MONEY ON THE ROCK

  Sir Marcus raised his eyes to scan the wooded ridge above him but saw no sign of life. There was not even a bird in the sky. He walked back to the trap and picked up the bag. It felt vastly heavier now and he had to cradle it in his arms. Taking it halfway across the bridge, he lowered it onto the rock with misgivings.

  Then he waited.

  Crouched among the trees, Colbeck was also waiting. Through the telescope, he watched with great interest and gave a commentary to Leeming and Tallis. The superintendent soon tired of hearing everything second-hand and he reached out.

  ‘Let me have the telescope,’ he said.

  ‘You have to adjust it very carefully,’ warned Colbeck.

  ‘Just give it here.’

  Taking the instrument, he tried to peer through it but he seemed to be looking through a milky circle of glass. Ev
erything was indistinct. He became tetchy.

  ‘I can’t see what’s happening,’ he complained.

  ‘Nothing is happening, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Even the sergeant and I can see that. Nothing whatsoever is happening at all down there.’

  In fact, a great deal was happening to Sir Marcus Burnhope. He was, by turns, worried, frightened, appalled, sickened, hopeful, depressed, cold enough to shiver and hot enough to sweat freely. It was deliberate, he told himself. They were deliberately making him wait while they checked that he was absolutely alone. The longer it went on, the more uneasy he became. He began to wonder if the kidnappers were simply playing games with him. It was almost a quarter of an hour before he saw the trap rolling out of the trees on the other side of the stream. Sir Marcus envied the skill with which the man was driving, zigzagging at speed down the incline, then getting increased pace out of the horse once they’d reached more level ground.

  Beside the driver was a woman and Sir Marcus first thought that it was his daughter. He stretched out his arms to welcome her, only to drop them by his sides again when the trap got close enough for him to recognise Rhoda Wills. He rallied. Her appearance was at least a positive sign that the kidnapper was prepared to honour his commitment. Turning his attention to the man, he studied him with an amalgam of interest and loathing. This was the kidnapper who’d seized Imogen and held her captive. Sir Marcus had an overpowering urge to kill the man but he had neither the weapon to do it nor the strength even to move. The sheer enormity of what was involved in the confrontation had paralysed him.

  When the trap skidded to a halt on the bridge, he could barely speak.

  ‘Where’s my daughter?’ he asked, hoarsely.

  ‘She’s waiting up in the trees with my friend,’ said Whiteside, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. ‘When I’m satisfied that you’ve brought the ransom, Imogen will be released.’

  ‘If you’ve laid a hand on her …’

  The words died on his lips. He was in no position to make threats and he felt ridiculous for doing so. His gaze switched to Rhoda Wills.