Academy of the Dead

by Christopher Wright

  They probably did, but at least Father Alban would have meant it. "If you see him, say thanks. And if you see Blake, don't say anything about Martin Smith's visit here. I'm not sure where Smith fits into the picture, but I don't trust him."

  "Where are you? At the airport, I hope."

  "If only. I'm sure the police don't believe I had anything to do with that body, but they're not letting me go."

  "Are they holding you?"

  "I'm near a place called Ústí, about a hundred miles from Prague, and I'm on the run."

  "You're not even in Prague? I thought you'd want to be back here looking for Zoé."

  "I don't want to be in Ústí. All I've got is an old bicycle, and it isn't going to get me even a quarter of the way to Prague. I'm going to catch the train. Problem is the police may be looking out for me at the railway station."

  "Is there any way I can reach you if Zoé is ... " Ken hesitated. Matt knew what he'd been going to say. "What I mean is can I reach you when Zoé turns up safe and well?"

  "No way. I'll phone you from time to time. If Zoé's okay, and I hope to God she is, I needn't worry too much about getting back in a hurry. I'm going to cycle into town and see if I can get on a train without anyone seeing me. If the police ... " A large gray car, definitely a Skoda, stopped right outside the entrance. It backed up slightly and began to swing round to face the factory, its lights on main beam.

  "Are you still there, kiddo?"

  Matt dropped quickly to the floor still holding the phone, just in time before the headlights flashed across the gatehouse. "Unfortunately, yes."

  Chapter Thirty-One

  "KEN, I MAY be in trouble. I'll ring you again soon."

  Matt reached out and replaced the phone, being careful to keep his head down. Slowly the Skoda continued towards the factory. It was definitely the Duseks' car, but only Tomas was in it. The farmer hadn't stopped long enough at the entrance to drop his wife off, so presumably he'd already taken her back to the farm. Maybe Lenka was fed up with the manhunt, or more likely Tomas wanted her home in case the police needed to make contact.

  As the Skoda disappeared round the back of the factory, Matt had a bright idea. Lenka's old bicycle wasn't going to get him far, but the Skoda would get him all the way to Prague. He ripped out the phone wires and ran from the gatehouse to pick up the broken security barrier from the grass. The red and white pole seemed to be aluminum and felt unexpectedly light, as well as cold. He laid it across the two uprights that had recently supported it across the entrance, and stood behind the gatehouse just as the Skoda returned from making a complete circuit of the factory building.

  Tomas braked hard at the barrier. He'd obviously not expected an obstruction. He sat in the car for a few seconds, glancing across at the gatehouse as though waiting for it to be raised. After sounding the horn impatiently a couple of times, the farmer got out of the car, leaving the engine running. As he walked across to the gatehouse, Matt slipped round behind the Skoda, jumped into the driver's seat and locked the doors. Tomas shouted, but he was too late.

  Matt revved up the engine and the red and white pole flew over the roof of the car as he let the clutch in with a bang. He turned sharp left, the way that Lenka had told him to go to Ústí. Already there were street lights, so he must be close to the center of town. It was no good blundering on. He had to get on the main road to Prague without wasting any more time.

  The fuel gauge read decidedly low, and he'd need fuel, but not in Ústí. He had no idea what the road was like from here to Prague, but he could guess that on a Saturday night it wasn't going to be easy to find a filling station in the countryside. He had the map of the Czech Republic in his bag. The advantages of stopping to read it far outweighed the risk of being caught, and he'd be safe if he stopped in one of the small residential roads that led off everywhere.

  He parked well out of sight and turned on the interior light. He quickly found Ústí nad Orlicí on the map, and then Prague. The two places looked quite close together, but he doubted it was really so. In his experience places in foreign countries were never as close as they looked on a map.

  He needed to go through the center of town to reach the E442 which was marked in red. This would take him as far as the large town of Hradec Králové, then the E67 would take him all the way to Prague. The last part of the route would be by motorway, which should speed things up. He turned the car in the narrow road and made his way into Ústí. He had to be careful not to panic. With the telephone in the gatehouse now disconnected, there was no way that Tomas Dusek could have reported the theft of his car this soon. And even if he had, would the police react quickly enough to set up a major roadblock? And why would they bother? He was hardly an international terrorist. They must have worked out by now that he was not involved or even a witness if he had only just arrived from England.

  The thought helped calm him down. The only place the police were likely to be looking for him was here in Ústí -- and perhaps at his hotel in Prague which Stanislav knew about. He had his passport in his bag, but not his air ticket. The Prague police wouldn't have the resources to make many checks. If they found his ticket at the hotel, that's where someone would wait for him if they felt it important enough. He could see the signpost to the E442, and no sign of the police.

  The main road to Hradec Králové looked busy at this time of the evening, enabling Matt to feel inconspicuous. He found a gas station and used his credit card to fill the tank to the brim. He had no idea how much fuel the Skoda used, but saving money was the least of his worries. He phoned home from a kiosk in the garage forecourt.

  Ken was still there, but not Zoé.

  *

  THE AIRPORT was easy to find, with good signposting showing well before Matt reached the outskirts of Prague. He parked the old Skoda in the short-term waiting area, made his way into the departure lounge and rang home again. As he feared, Ken had no news. There was a phone directory in the kiosk. He flicked through it until he came to the page he wanted. There wasn't time to copy out the names and addresses, so he tore out the whole page and jammed it in his pocket.

  He hurried to the desk of the airline he'd used to fly into the Czech Republic. The woman regretted it, but there was no plane to England until the morning. He asked if they had planes flying tonight to anywhere on the continent, and she said that one was shortly departing to Amsterdam. There were seats and, yes, she would take a credit card if he would like to wait a moment. He wondered if this was some delaying tactic, and his name was on a list of wanted travelers. But no, she seemed genuinely helpful. Anyway, did Stanislav know his surname? He couldn't remember. His passport said Matthew, and the Czech police might not know that Matt was an abbreviation.

  "Do any other airlines have a flight to England this evening?" he asked, glancing around the large departure area.

  The woman shrugged. "You could try over there. It depends what airport you want to arrive at."

  He wanted to end up where he'd parked his Mini, less than an hour's drive from home. Anywhere else and he'd have to hire a car to get home, and his credit card wouldn't stand the charge.

  "Can you get me from Amsterdam to England?"

  "I'll just check." The clerk tapped the keyboard and looked at the monitor. "You're in luck. As long as everything runs on time, you can be in England at your home airport in four hours. But you'll have to make up your mind quickly." She smiled and raised her eyebrows. "Yes or no?"

  He said yes.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  MATT PHONED home from Amsterdam airport, and again as soon as he cleared customs in England. Ken had stayed in the house in case there was any news, but it seemed that the police believed it was some sort of domestic problem, and Zoé would be contacting Matt when he got home.

  As he approached the street where he lived he almost expected to see Salman, the Chechen refugee, sitting outside his front gate. The dashboard clock said it was just after five a.m. The street was deserted but he could see li
ghts on in his front room. Just for a moment he hoped.

  "Sorry, kiddo," said Ken who came to the door on hearing the Mini stop outside. "You've got a visitor. Your priest friend is here to see you."

  Matt clambered from his car and went with Ken to the front door. Suddenly it all seemed real.

  "I'm exhausted," he said, leaning against the doorway. He was glad Ken had stayed, but unless ... "Father Alban is here?" Was Zoé dead? Had the priest come to offer counseling?

  The small Frenchman, dressed in jeans and a black sweatshirt came into the hall. "I only wish I could help you find Zoé," he said. "I think we can eliminate Salman in this mystery."

  "Are you sure?" Matt asked.

  "All I know is that Salman and Olga have both disappeared. They are together, I think."

  Matt fell into his favorite armchair, in no mood for polite conversation. "It's a funny thing that Salman went missing after he'd been round here making a nuisance of himself with Zoé."

  Father Alban shook his head and spread his arms in a show of anguish. "It is perhaps my fault," he said quietly. "I encourage my crew to be of help in the community. I thought that Zoé might need assistance."

  "She didn't need to be harassed by some homeless beggar. I don't know what you were thinking of, sending him round here when I was away."

  "Matt, Salman was sorry for what he did to your wife that evening. He wanted to make amends."

  "By kidnapping her?"

  Ken stepped forward. "It's been a bad time for all of us, especially for you, Matt. Let's hold it right here. This isn't going to help us find Zoé."

  Matt sighed. Ken was right, but he wasn't going to apologize to the priest. He'd sort that one out later. "Why do you think Salman and Olga are together?"

  Father Alban nodded. "They have become very friendly in the last few days. I think maybe there is romance in the air."

  Then Matt remembered. "Olga wanted new shoes because she goes walking in the countryside. Up on the Mount, you said."

  "That is correct," the French priest said. "But I do not think your wife would have gone walking with them."

  The thought hadn't even occurred to him that Zoé would have gone hill-walking. And if she had, she'd have been back long before now. Or would she? Maybe she and Olga were staking out a badger's sett. Olga seemed fascinated by wildlife, and Zoé wasn't expecting him back till tomorrow.

  Ken pointed to the kitchen. "It doesn't explain why the back door was wide open."

  Matt's head ached. If only he knew who had come to the front door while he was speaking to Zoé on the phone from Ústí. He should have bought a spare phone card in advance. It was obvious that a single card wasn't going to last the whole weekend. Zoé's cell phone was on the coffee table. He picked it up and noticed that it was switched off. The break-in made no sense. This mobile would have been easy pickings.

  "I haven't been entirely honest with you," said Ken. "When I said the police had been round here it wasn't to help find Zoé."

  Matt felt sick. "Tell me."

  "You'd better sit down. Would you like Father Alban to make you a coffee?"

  "A strong one. Black. No sugar."

  "Leave it to me." Father Alban went into the kitchen. Matt could hear him opening the cupboards and drawers. He was about to go and help, but he had to listen to Ken's news.

  "Right," said Ken, "I'd better tell you everything I know."

  "Sounds like a good idea." Matt closed his eyes. If he kept them open he could see the room starting to go round. Even with them closed he felt unsettled.

  "The police showed me Shelley Carpenter's note."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Because you and Zoé are mentioned by name. It was more of a letter really. Not that Shelley Carpenter had finished it. She wrote that her violin has gone."

  Matt opened his eyes and sat upright. "That's Tesar's violin."

  "Valuable, is it?" Ken paused. "You haven't got the thing, have you?"

  "Of course not. I'll let the police search the house if they want to."

  Ken breathed in deeply. "I've already had a quick look round myself. I wasn't being nosey. I was just hoping to spot something that would explain Zoé's absence."

  Father Alban returned from the kitchen, holding an old mug that Zoé used for measuring flour. Matt decided it only confirmed what he'd thought about the woman claiming to be Mrs. Smith. A visitor doesn't know where to find things in a strange kitchen. Martin Smith and his mother definitely had questions to answer.

  "I think I know where we might find Salman and Olga," the priest said.

  "Then you'd better hurry up and tell us," Ken told him brusquely.

  Father Alban nodded slowly. "It has only just occurred to me. On the Mount there is an old farmhouse. It is behind the Helios Music Academy."

  "I know it," Matt told him. "I nearly crashed into the chimney stack on a paraglider." It seemed an age ago that Blake had persuaded him to take photographs of Shelley Carpenter and Martin Smith by the swimming pool.

  "I have never been there myself, but I think perhaps they use the farm for reasons that are personal." Father Alban looked slightly embarrassed, even though he dressed as one of the boys. "I cannot approve, but I do not interfere with the private lives of my crew."

  The room went quiet. Father Alban crossed himself, closed his eyes, and laid a hand on Matt's head. Matt looked up and saw the priest's lips moving. The words were quiet but positive. He hadn't expected to feel encouraged by hearing someone praying for him and Zoé, but he was desperate enough to clutch at any straw.

  A banging on the front door made everyone jump. "Father Alban, Father Alban," called a young voice through the letterbox.

  Ken opened the door to find a youth in his mid teens standing there.

  "One of my crew," Father Alban explained. "What is it, Michael?"

  Michael sounded too agitated to speak properly. "Salman ... has come back. He wants ... wants you ... to go with him to the Mount. There's an ... an old building," the youngster panted. "And a body. Someone's … been killed."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  England

  Fourteen hours earlier

  ZOÉ REPLACED the phone and hurried to the front door. It was always so. If she was watching something special on the television the phone would ring, and if she was talking on the phone the front doorbell would go. The doorbell rang again as she pulled back the latch. Whoever it was must be impatient, or in a hurry.

  "Zoé, Zoé, your husband has to help me." Shelley Carpenter stood there, her hair everywhere. She never dressed smartly, but today she looked a complete mess.

  "You have a problem?" Zoé asked. As she said it, she realized that the question was unnecessary. The American woman not only sounded distraught, she looked it.

  "Is Matt in?"

  For a moment Zoé felt afraid. Matt always suspected people of having a concealed motive when they asked for help, and sometimes he was right. Maybe Shelley was what Matt would call, up to no good. But Matt had trusted this American woman, so perhaps it would be all right to invite her in. But then Matt was attracted to Shelley, which maybe made him a poor judge of her character. She shook her head. "Matt is not here at the moment. Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "My hotel room's been broken into."

  "Then you must contact the police."

  Shelley had obviously thought about that one. "There isn't time. My violin's been taken and I know who's got it."

  "You saw someone leaving your room?"

  "It's Martin Smith. And no, I didn't see him."

  Zoé realized now what Shelley was talking about. "Ah yes, the violin that Dvorak took to America. But why would Martin Smith want to steal it?"

  "He's been after that violin ever since I first showed it to him. The man covets it."

  Zoé was not quite sure what the word meant, but from the emphasis Shelley put on it, the meaning seemed obvious. "But why would he break into your hotel room?" She felt as though she was cros
s-examining a witness. Subconsciously she must have inherited the suspicious attitude from Matt, but somehow she sensed she could trust Shelley.

  "I went to the Academy this morning to settle my affairs," the American explained. "I told Blake I'm returning to LA early tomorrow, and I guess the news got round the rest of the staff. So Martin Smith didn't have any option but to break into my hotel room today if he wanted the violin."

  "Maybe it was Monsieur Blake who broke in. Peut-être he wants it."

  "It was Martin Smith. I know it was. And we're wasting time talking like this."

  Zoé decided to be open. "Matt he is not here. He is in Prague. If you would like to come inside and wait he will be phoning me again soon."

  Shelley caught Zoé by her shoulders and held on tightly. "I can't wait." She sounded frantic. "There's only one place Martin Smith will have taken the violin, and that's back to the Academy."

  Zoé pulled herself free. "What is it that you want me to do?"

  "Grab your coat and come with me, honey. Blake won't let me back into the Academy on my own, but he won't argue if there are two of us."

  Zoé turned and looked at the phone on the hall table on which she had just been speaking to Matt, wishing he was here. He would know what to do. "Will it take long?"

  Shelley shook her head fiercely. "The hell it won't. I'm going to bawl Martin Smith out and make him confess. And then I'm going to haul his ass down to the cops."

  Zoé stepped back a couple of paces. "I am not sure." She was seeing a side of Shelley that had been hidden until now. This woman made an opponent formidable, and was surely not in need of support.

  "Listen, honey, I'm not asking you to get heavy or anything. All I need is a witness. Okay?"

  Put like that Zoé felt she had little option, but she had to be sure. "It is definite that I will not get hit." She patted her stomach. "You know about the baby."

  "Sure, honey, I know all about it. No, there'll be no rough stuff, I promise. That Smith slob will cave in when he gets on the wrong end of my temper. We've got to hurry."

  *

  EDWARD BLAKE the dean stood at the main entrance to the Academy building and repeated his declaration. "No, Miss Carpenter, neither you nor your companion are putting one foot inside this door. If you attempt to come any further I shall call the police."