Leeward

by D. Edward Bradley

  “Is she all right?”

  “She’s unconscious,” replied Jon. “It’s a head wound, but the doctor says it’s not much more than a graze. Another fraction of an inch . . . anyway, he thinks she’ll come round soon, but will probably have a concussion. He wants her to stay in bed for a couple of days.”

  Hans sighed and the tension seemed to drain out of him. “How did it happen?”

  Jon’s explanation was terse and to the point.

  “Was there any identification on the gunman?” Hans asked.

  “No,” replied Jon. “Trilby searched him very thoroughly before the police arrived, but there was no wallet, nothing. Not only that, the number on the gun had been filed off.”

  “Jon, I don’t know what we can do next.” Hans pulled out a none too clean handkerchief and wiped his forehead. The air was very close. “Everyone at Leeward is under heavy guard, but somehow we have to get them out.”

  “Well, if the doctor’s right, Anna should be able to use the phone and talk to you tomorrow. But while we’re at it, tell me exactly what Peter said. I’m tape-recording this conversation for her benefit.”

  “Good idea.” Hans smoothed out a piece of paper on one knee. “I’ve made some notes, so I’ll read them out.”

  “What about the diskette?” Hans asked when he’d finished.

  “Damn! I completely forgot. Perhaps Trilby can find a computer somewhere.”

  “I’ll try to reach you sometime tomorrow,” said Hans. “You can leave a message if there’s anything urgent.”

  “You bet. And you can contact me through Trilby if the worst comes to the worst.”

  In Antigua, Jon had just hung up when a knock on the door startled him.

  “It’s Trilby, Mr. Moresby. I have news!”

  Jon let the Security Manager in. “Is it Anna?”

  “She’s come round. Ms. Andersson’s fine except for a splitting headache. The doctor says you can see her tomorrow.”

  “Thank God for that. Did she explain what happened?”

  “Yes, she did. The gunman said he was going to take her to see someone, but he wouldn’t say who. Later on, while she was talking to you on the phone, he grabbed the receiver. That was when she went for his gun. There was a struggle and it fired. Fortunately the kidnapper didn’t realize we were waiting for him outside, otherwise he wouldn’t have left the room and Ms. Andersson might have died.”

  “I’ve been wondering why he tried to escape. I guess he didn’t hear me say he was surrounded.”

  “Which was probably just as well. The police have finished here, but they say they’ll delay speaking with you until the morning. They think you’re probably too upset to be much help at the moment.”

  “That’s an understatement,” replied Jon, and told Trilby about his talk with Hans, and also the conversation with Josie and the Judge, which he had completely forgotten about.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Saturday, September 22, Leeward Estate Hotel

  On Friday, the lack of activity at Leeward had put everyone on edge, especially Peter. He decided to keep the walkie-talkie a secret from all except his wife and daughter. Bobbie solemnly swore she wouldn’t tell anyone, “not even Neil.”

  It was quite late in the evening before Peter was able to contact Hans. The dining room had to be cleaned up and inspected by the guards, and it was only then that he and Meg were permitted to retire to the bedroom where Peter could safely use the walkie-talkie. He paled as he was told about the shooting at the Anchor Hotel. After that they discussed the possibility of getting everyone out of the Leeward Estate Hotel and off St. Barbe’s but got nowhere.

  Meg and Peter tossed and turned that night, and awakened on Saturday morning feeling exhausted, as they had done for days.

  “I have a suspicion something’s going to happen today,” whispered Peter as he got out of bed. Bobbie was still sleeping the sleep of the innocent, and he didn’t want to wake her. She had treated the whole affair as a bit of an adventure, but this was about to change.

  “I’d feel a lot better after a good night’s sleep.” Meg pushed the bedclothes aside, and sat up. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders as she looked at her husband. “Have you any idea what’s going on and who’s behind it?”

  “The government. It’s the bloody government. We’ve upset them in some way, and that bastard Crick is getting back at us. I wish I knew the real reason for all this. What I don’t get is how the Seakers’ bodies ended up in our back yard. Do you remember when Jon and Josie were held up at the airport waiting for their Boston flight? Jon found out the Seakers had also been detained the day before. The airline hostess told him so. That means the Seakers were on the plane when it left St. Barbe’s. They must have been captured later on, and brought back here. That’s probably what someone tried to do with Anna Andersson yesterday, but it went very wrong.”

  Bobbie stretched and opened her eyes. “What went wrong?”

  “Never you mind,” said Meg. “When you’ve finished in the bathroom I want you to get dressed and help with the breakfast.”

  With Jon gone, the two families made up only six people. They sat together at a long buffet table as far from the police as they could get. It was a fair amount of work for the four adults to prepare a full breakfast for so many policemen, but by nine o’clock they too had eaten, and were having coffee.

  “Can I go and feed Tonto?” asked Bobbie, but there wasn’t time for an answer. The dining room door burst open and two men entered. The first was the large and ugly Chief of Police, Xavier Green. He was followed by none other than Prime Minister Crick’s right-hand man, the smooth-faced Security Minister Stoker.

  All conversation ceased. The policemen straightened their chairs as the Minister walked to the center of the room with Chief Green close behind. Stoker was wearing the uniform of Commander in Chief of Security Forces. It was obvious to Peter that the object of this display was to intimidate his prisoners. He had never seen it worn before.

  Taking off his heavily braided cap and putting it on a table beside him, Stoker addressed the two families. “With the exception of the children, you are all suspected of complicity in the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Seaker. The escape of Mr. Moresby only reinforces other evidence, but this is a small island and he will be recaptured soon.”

  Evidently the authorities were unaware that Jon had managed to get off St. Barbe’s and was in Antigua with Anna. Peter’s spirits rose at the thought that perhaps some of the Leeward guards would join in the implied search.

  “You will all be questioned,” continued Stoker. “If you fail to come up with answers, you will be questioned again and again. If I don’t have a signed confession for the murder of the Seakers on my desk by this time Wednesday, exactly four days from now, you will be sent to jail pending trial. I should warn you it could be a very long time indeed before the High Court of Justice is available to hear your cases. You will be housed in a new facility at the airport, and the children will be looked after in the homes of specially selected policewomen.”

  Bobbie began to whimper, then started crying loudly. Neil Barker sat motionless, staring wide-eyed at Stoker, who stalked out with Green at his heels. The policemen got to their feet and left.

  Bobbie continued to cry as Meg led her across the reception hall to Peter’s study. Stoker watched them without emotion.

  “Bloody kids,” snapped Green. “That’s all we need.”

  “Tell one of your men to send them both to the garden, and let them scream outside. When you’ve done that, come to the bar. I need a drink.”

  A few minutes later, Bobbie and Neil found themselves free to go wherever they wanted, and it was their choice of location that probably had a major impact on future events.

  The two children went to visit Tonto, who had been penned up in his enclosure by the police, then they crossed the lawn to the maze entrance by the big palm tree. Inside, they played a special maze game. It was a form of hide-and-seek through the labyr
inth of passages formed by the tall hedges. Cheating was easy because they had already made several holes in the thick vegetation, just large enough for a child to crawl through onto the next pathway. Eventually, they tired of the activity and sat on a seat in one of the miniature gardens near the center. Bobbie was about to say something when they heard voices.

  “Ssh,” whispered Neil. “Someone’s coming.”

  The voices got louder and louder until Bobbie and Neil could hear every word. Judging by their footsteps, the men had stopped just a couple of hedgerows away.

  “How about this?” said Stoker. “We don’t want to get lost. We can finish our beer and have a chat in absolute privacy. I want to tell you about some things I couldn’t mention in the car—the driver doesn’t have our security clearance.”

  “Sounds serious.” Police Chief Green took a swig of beer. “Any problems?”

  “Sort of, but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

  Bobbie and Neil sat completely motionless, hardly daring to breathe. They heard every word and every syllable, and of course recognized the voices from earlier in the day.

  Stoker continued. “I received a bulletin yesterday. You remember me telling you about a black man with a beard who barged into the London meeting? It was during my progress report on the island. I think I mentioned he was a judge from Boston.”

  “And you had someone set some bugs in his house to find out what he knew.”

  “Right. Then I tried to see if he recognized my face by going to his courtroom and catching his attention. Well, it turns out there’s a connection between him, or rather his daughter, and Moresby.”

  “So this judge knows everything Moresby does?”

  “Exactly. And now the young English bastard’s escaped.”

  “And you want him found soon, like yesterday?” The children heard a gurgle as more beer slid down into Green’s ample belly.

  “Yes. I want him found, and I want him found dead.”

  This didn’t register with Bobbie for a few seconds, but when it did, her blue eyes opened wider.

  Stoker was continuing. “I got an order from the top. It seems it’s no longer enough to just jail the Calluna and Barker families. They know too much, and if they don’t they’ll soon guess more than’s acceptable.”

  “Why don’t we set the Guard on them?”

  “That’s hardly practical, is it?” replied Stoker.

  Green belched. “I never did understand why it killed Legrand.”

  “He made a mistake and got too close to its lair. Anyway, the two families have to go. We have to kill them.”

  “All of them? Even the kids?”

  “Even the kids,” sighed Stoker.

  Bobbie started to shake, and Neil stared fixedly at the ground.

  “I don’t like it any more than you do,” Stoker continued. “But the order’s quite specific. These things don’t go unnoticed higher up, you know.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sure you can dream up an accident of some kind, Xavier. You know the sort of thing. The minibus transporting them to the jail goes off a cliff, or something like that. Make sure one of your own men is killed with them. It will be more convincing.”

  “Who for?”

  “Oh, the media, the foreigners.”

  “How long have I got?” Green asked.

  “Four days. Like I said to them this morning, four days. This questioning we’re doing is a bit of a farce, but we have to find out what happened to the Seakers’ bodies if we can.”

  “Four days isn’t long.”

  “Don’t be pathetic man!” snapped Stoker. “I could fix them in half the time!”

  “Do you want me to get rid of the Swedish girl?”

  “No, we’re bringing her in. She should’ve been picked up yesterday afternoon at the Anchor Hotel in Antigua. Our launch is scheduled to meet the chopper just about now.” He glanced at his watch. “Funny, though, I didn’t get any confirmation from our Antigua operative.”

  Green stretched. “I’d better go and think up the best way to stage the accident. Wednesday you say?”

  “Wednesday. No Later.”

  The noise of footsteps on the gravel path gradually receded as the two men left the maze. The children didn’t move for several minutes. They just sat and looked at each other in shock.

  It was Neil who broke the silence. “I’m scared. Let’s go back.”

  “No, we’d better hide,” replied Bobbie. “What about The Pit? No one will find us in there.”

  “Come on then.”

  They quickly made their way to the center of the maze, where a concealed cellar had been constructed a very long time ago. Entry to the dugout, which the children called The Pit, was gained by tipping a cleverly hinged flagstone located in the middle of the small garden. Neil removed the old iron locking bar without difficulty, but it took the combined weight of both of them to tip the flagstone on its pivot. Once inside, they swung the stone back into position above their heads and sat in total darkness on the ancient steps that led to the tiny chamber.

  “They’re going to kill us,” said Bobbie in a small voice. “Neil, I’m scared. And they’ll kill Tonto too.”

  “Don’t worry, our parents will think of something.”

  “But they don’t know what the fat policeman’s going to do.”

  Neil stood in the darkness. “So we’d better get back and tell them.”

  “But the policeman might see us leaving the maze, then he’d know we heard him.”

  “Not if we go out the back way through the hole in the hedge.”

  Bobbie started to whimper. “They said they’re going to kill Jon as well.”

  “They have to catch him first. Can you remember what else they said?”

  “Something about a judge. Jon called Josie’s Dad Judge Winchester once. It must have been about him.And that lady who was here—they talked about her.”

  “Her name was Anna. I think she was Swedish.”

  “We’d better get going.”

  Neil swung the pivoted stone and they climbed out into the open, blinking in the bright sun after the darkness. He held Bobbie’s hand, except when they squeezed through the holes in the hedges. A couple of minutes later, they were standing outside the maze on the side furthest from the house where no one could see them. After looking around, they crept unseen through the shrubs, eventually reaching the pond in front of the hotel. It was at least twenty minutes since Stoker and Green had finished talking.

  “Let’s go to the front door.” Bobbie glanced at her watch. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

  “I don’t think I can eat, but they’ll be expecting us.”

  “I’ll tell Mum in the kitchen. There won’t be any policemen there.”

  “I’ll tell my Dad,” said Neil. “He’s probably in our room. He’ll know what to do.”

  As things turned out, neither parent was told about the conversation in the maze for some time. Lunch was ready ahead of schedule, and they found Bobbie’s parents serving cold chicken and salad from a buffet. Also, the guards were lining up close to the table where Rodney was sitting, so that Neil would have been overheard when he spoke to his father.

  Eventually Bobbie found herself back in the Callunas’ room, since everyone was confined to quarters during the promised questioning. It turned out to be blatant intimidation. Neil was with his mother, since Rodney was the unlucky person being harassed. With surprising perspicacity for one so young, he realized Muriel might give something away if he told her the whole story before she was called before Stoker and Green. With great difficulty, he managed to keep his mouth shut for yet another hour.

  Things were easier for Bobbie. She could tell both her parents at the same time, since they had seen Stoker and Green earlier.

  “The fat policeman’s going to kill us,” she began without any preamble.

  Peter was in an easy chair and sat bolt upright. Meg was sitting on the bed taking her shoes off in preparation for a rest.

  She s
tiffened and looked at Bobbie. “What did you say?”

  “I heard the fat man talking to Mr. Stoker in the maze.” After that, Bobbie told them everything she could remember.

  Peter stood. “Was Neil with you?”

  “Yes. He’s going to tell his Dad as soon as he can.”

  Before dinner, Bobbie, Neil and their fathers got together in the kitchen. Meg and Muriel sat outside in the restaurant drinking coffee and keeping watch for guards. As the children were questioned, it became clear that they could only remember the main thrust of what they had heard, and little detail.

  Peter realized Hans would have to relay this new threat to Jon and Anna. At almost exactly 7:00 pm he contacted Hans from the privacy of the bathroom.

  “I’m glad you’ve called,” greeted Hans. “I talked with Jon just an hour ago, and it seems Anna checked herself out of the hospital this morning. She’s asleep in her room, but isn’t well enough to be of any help. Jon doesn’t know what to do, and I told him the only way to get everyone away from Leeward and off St. Barbe’s, would be by helicopter. He thought that hiring one would be impossible right now, because Anna has all the connections.”

  Hans paused, and Peter replied, “Things have gotten worse here. To cut a long story short, the kids overheard Chief Green and Security Minister Stoker planning to kill us all within the next few days. We questioned them carefully and got about half of what was said as far as we can figure. I’m going to sign off for about an hour. I’ll make a rough escape plan so we can discuss it over the walkie-talkies before you relay it to Antigua later this evening. We’ll just assume they can get a chopper. It’s our only hope.”

  Peter returned the communicator to the bottom drawer of the bedroom dresser, and was wondering what to do next when Meg and Bobbie walked in.

  “I want to talk to Rodney,” he said. “Why don’t you two go and visit with Muriel and Neil and ask Rodney to come along here? The guards don’t worry about people being out of their rooms until about nine.”

  Meg looked worried. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “As soon as we get the chance.”