by Jane Adams
Then, Ray recalled, he’d heard someone shout and the man had taken off, out of his consciousness, feet thudding on the pavement, then the sound gone altogether as others rushed to Ray’s side. Halshaw among them.
‘And if this was true,’ Walters was asking, ‘you’re saying this was the leverage whoever it was used to recruit Frank? Anyway, what could he have known? Sure, he worked at the nightclub, but he was a man in a penguin suit standing on the door. He was nothing more than that.’
‘And that’s exactly why they wanted him,’ Ray said. ‘He was a nobody. A second-class doorman without even the qualifications it took to do that. He was invisible. He could go anywhere, be anywhere and no one would pay a blind bit of notice.’
Walters was losing patience. ‘Ray, why are you telling me all this? It’s bull and you know it. There’s not a shred of evidence could be made to stick. I think the strain’s been getting to you,’ he said. ‘The sooner you retire . . .’
Ray stood up and turned towards the door. ‘I can’t prove a thing,’ he said, glancing back at Walters. ‘Yet,’ he added as he took his leave.
* * *
‘He knows,’ Walters said. ‘No, I’m not certain how much but certainly enough to tie me to Frank and Frank to you and Halshaw.’
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘Sure he’s not trying to wind you up? Look at it logically, what proof does he have? And with Halshaw gone that’s one more know-it-all out of the way.’
Walters sighed. ‘I know Ray. He says he has no direct proof, but in his language that just means he’s not got the full picture. He could do us all a lot of damage just with his speculations so far if he talks to the wrong people. Believe me, Ray doesn’t give a damn when he’s got his teeth in.’
There was a further considered silence on the end of the phone. ‘We’ve got his address, we’ll take care of it.’
‘What are you planning to do?’
‘Don’t be such a pratt, Walters.’
The phone went dead. Walters lowered the receiver and told himself that he should leave everything to Alex Pierce, but it couldn’t change the fact that he’d been badly shaken. Couldn’t stop him from wondering what more Ray already knew.
* * *
George had been concerned for his friend. He, too, knew Ray’s propensity for hanging on no matter what. He’d got authorization for a watch to be kept on Ray’s cottage. The local pub was just across the green and had rooms to rent. He’d had two men ensconced in the front since earlier that day and at three o’clock they called to tell him of Ray’s return.
‘Tell me if he leaves,’ George told them. ‘He’s likely to head off for Edgemere later, I’ll have him picked up that end.’
It was almost five when Ray went out again. He’d changed his clothes and driven off to meet Sarah out of work. Knowing his habits of the last few days it seemed safe to assume that he would be gone until late or perhaps not even return that day.
It was eight thirty when they got the call that Ray was coming home.
‘Fallen out with the girlfriend, has he?’
George laughed. ‘Not likely. No, it seems she had a prior engagement. They only met up to have a drink together, then her sister collected her and they went off somewhere. Uniform are keeping tabs. Ray’s headed back your way. Should be back by nine fifteen at the latest.’
At eight forty-five the watchers saw a movement outside of Ray’s house, but it wasn’t Ray. Ray’s cottage was the second in a row of four and access to the back gardens could be gained along a pathway that led around the block. Two men walked past the row of cottages and then around the back. At first, George’s observer thought little of it. The men looked confident as though they belonged there and it was quite possible that they would continue along the little path and into the churchyard, which acted as a short cut to the other half of the village. But he continued to watch, lifting his camera and running a sequence of shots anyway.
‘Anything?’ Clive asked him.
‘I’m not sure. Those two didn’t look right. They were trying too hard to be casual.’
‘Want me to get onto George?’
‘Not yet. It might be nothing.’
Simons waited. It was still light but the sky was becoming overcast and full dusk looked as if it might come early.
‘I think they’ve gone past and up towards the church,’ he said. ‘I’ll give them five minutes and then take a look around. Maybe put in an appearance in the bar before someone wonders what the hell we’re doing up here all day.’
‘Wait until he gets in,’ Clive said, ‘then we can both go down. He’s not likely to go anywhere else tonight.’
Simons nodded and gave his attention back to the front of Ray’s house. There were no movements. Nothing different. He cursed the fact that the angle of view was set obliquely and gave no sight into the narrow windows, then glanced at his watch. It was two minutes before nine. To go wandering about now would be to risk running into Ray Flowers when he returned home. George had given word that he’d be a trifle touchy about what he’d see as patronizing overprotection and Ray was enough of a veteran to be able to spot Simons a mile off.
Ray was back by five past nine. Simons watched him park his car and open the cottage door, switch on the light and then Simons was running for the door, yelling at Clive to follow him. They shot through the bar and out across the green.
‘Round the back,’ Simons yelled to Clive as he himself headed for the still-open cottage door.
Inside, the place was a mess, furniture tipped over and books strewn across the floor. It had been Ray’s sudden reaction as he had halted inside the door, hand on the light switch, that had alerted Simons. Ray had only just been visible, but he had seen him freeze, then run and that had been enough.
Simons slipped on a pile of magazines, recovered himself, tore through into the kitchen. The back door hung open and he saw briefly that the ancient lock had been forced. Through the back gate and onto the path he heard the sound of shots being fired.
‘Shit.’ He drew his own weapon, the familiar weight of the Browning nestling in his hand, then ran for the gate.
* * *
Ray had seen the two men racing out of his back door as he had reached to switch on the light. Giving chase was an instinctive reaction not necessarily tempered with reason. It became very clear very quickly that both men were younger and a good deal fitter than he was. The slight lead they had on him had lengthened considerably by the time Ray had scrambled over the churchyard wall and fallen heavily on the other side.
Hauling himself to his feet Ray began to run once more. The two men were well ahead and in the distance, from the direction of the road, Ray heard a car engine flare into life.
Angry with himself, he tried hard to sprint faster, suddenly aware that other footsteps pounded after him across the churchyard grass.
‘What the hell?’ He half turned, wondering briefly if one of the locals had seen the men running from his house. His thoughts were cut short as one of the men he was chasing turned and fired.
‘Shit!’ Stupidly, it had never occurred to him they might be armed. He hit the ground, diving behind the nearest headstone, the second shot blasting a chunk from the granite block. A third shot fired, this time from behind him. Momentarily confused, Ray lurched to his feet once more.
‘Get down! Down!’
Ray dropped heavily as a fourth shot rang out and suddenly a man was crouched beside him, reaching a hand to warn him to stay where he was, a second man giving chase with far more speed than Ray could have managed, sprinting towards the churchyard wall.
‘You hit?’
‘No, just too bloody fat. Who the fuck are you?’
Simons had run ahead of them still in pursuit and after assuring himself that Ray was OK, Clive followed. But they were too late. The roar of a car engine could be heard from beyond the churchyard wall.
Ray had propped himself against the back of a tombstone when they got back to
him. ‘You lost them?’
‘’Fraid so. There was a driver waiting and it took off too fast for me to get the full index. But they dropped this.’
Ray took the pages from him. Some of the arrest details from the file George had sent on Frank Jones. They must have fallen from the folder as the men made their escape.
‘George send you?’ Ray demanded.
Simons nodded.
‘What were you doing while they were raiding my house? Drinking in the flaming bar?’
Simons winced, but let it pass figuring that he’d feel the same in Ray’s shoes.
‘We’d better call this in,’ Clive said. ‘Get some damage limitation in place.’
‘Bit late for that,’ Ray commented. ‘This might be the sticks but they still watch television. It won’t take a genius to figure out they just heard gunshots and even less of one to know the local press might be interested. Fuck, what a bloody mess.’
People were already gathered on the green when they returned to Ray’s cottage. Many of them, Simons realized, had come from the local pub. Their exit through the public bar had hardly been discreet.
Ray closed his front door and pulled the curtains closed against curious eyes, many of whom must already have looked inside and seen that the place had been ransacked. He wondered vaguely what Evie would say if she saw it like this.
‘Um, anything missing, sir?’ Simons asked as Clive radioed in.
Ray sat down on the stairs and surveyed the mess.
‘Right now,’ he said, ‘it’s a little hard to say.’
* * *
Sarah Gordon arrived at Ray’s cottage at half past ten, close on the heels of the local police and just ahead of the press. She found Ray still sitting on the stairs while SOCOs sifted through the remnants of his home and the local officers took his statement.
Sarah was reminded forcibly of the scene at Helen’s flat. Ray looked up as she came in. She had Clive in tow, evidently that was how she had got through the police cordon.
‘Sarah? How come you’re here?’
‘Well, that’s a fine welcome. Lord, what a mess, more of your lot, was it?’ She shook her head as Ray began to answer. ‘No, I know the story. George telephoned me at my sister’s place. Really pissed her off, she’s been ex-directory for years.’
She glanced around again, a frown creasing between her eyes. Then she reached for Ray’s hand and jerked her head towards Simons and Clive. ‘Come on, they can finish up here, it’s about time they earned their keep. They probably know more of what went on anyway.’
Ray found himself being pulled to his feet and directed towards the door much to the consternation of the young officer.
‘But sir, your statement, sir.’
‘Tomorrow,’ Sarah announced. ‘Those two over there can fill you in until then.’
Ray shook his head, but decided he was too tired and too pissed off to resist Sarah Gordon in her present mood. She opened the cottage door and exited, scattering onlookers as she went. Ray barely had his seat belt fastened before she had accelerated away.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘that George disturbed your evening.’
Sarah snorted rudely. ‘Probably knew what I’d do to him if he hadn’t,’ she said.
Chapter Fifty-six
For the next stage in her interrogation Prescott had Kitty brought out of her cell and into the anteroom above. His approach this day was different. He bade her sit down, offered wine and sat opposite as though they were friends about to discuss some trivial event. Kitty’s head was reeling. Just to be brought up into this well-lit room confused her and the wine, which she accepted without thinking, went straight to her head.
‘Where is Master Randall?’ she asked him.
‘Gone to bring his wife here to give her evidence.’
‘Martha?’ Kitty’s hand shook and the wine threatened to spill. She steadied it with her other. ‘Martha is wrong,’ she said boldly. ‘She lied about me.’
‘She lied about what she had seen? You, lying naked on the ground, writhing in the mud and crying out for your Lord to take you?’
‘She misunderstood what she saw. I cried out, yes, but not for the devil to come to me.’
‘Who then? Some lover we do not know about?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Hmm, maybe you have a point,’ Prescott said, looking at her scarred face. ‘Though, of course, there are many men who do not look at a woman’s face when they seek satisfaction.’
Kitty swallowed hard, feeling the flush rising to her cheeks. ‘There was no one,’ she said. ‘I was alone. I have lain with no man and I have certainly never given myself to the devil.’
Prescott got up from his chair and wandered over to the window. It was open and Kitty could smell the freshness of the air. Flowers grew in the castle yard and the scent of them rose up through the open window and into the room. She longed to be outside. Prescott’s words broke into her thoughts.
‘It is easy enough to prove, of course?’
‘What is?’
‘Whether or not you have a lover, or have had one. I will arrange for a doctor to be brought here. If he finds you to be virgin, well, the charges still stand, but we will know the devil came to you in no human form and that maybe Martha Randall mistook a little of what she witnessed. If not, well, Mistress Hallam, you will have to find another tale to tell.’
He crossed the room and sat down once more, reaching to pour more wine. Offering the jug to Kitty as though she were his guest and not his prisoner. Numbly, she shook her head.
‘You’ve not bled since you came here, mistress.’
‘What?’
‘They brought you here in June and it is nearly September and yet you’ve not bled. A woman’s time comes each month unless she is with child. Do you carry a child, Mistress Hallam?’
Kitty stared at him, shock taking away her ability to reply. Then she shook her head. ‘I have told you, sir, I have lain with no man, human or inhuman. No succubus or demon has come into my bed and no one’s husband crept in through my window or met with me in Southby wood. As to my not bleeding, any doctor could tell you that stress of the mind or body can cause such things to cease. If you must, then bring your doctors, let them examine me, but it would prove nothing.’
‘Would it not? Well, I must arrange it then.’ He leaned back in the chair and regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I am prepared to be charitable in my dealings with you. But, you are a woman of education and I will not insult your learning. I am prepared to accept that some simple soul who has no knowledge of the world might mistake some devil’s messenger and believe them to be simply a lover of humankind. But not you, mistress. You know too much. You embraced the devil and his works in full consciousness. I know it and so do you.’ He leaned forward. ‘When I studied in Prussia there was a case of a young woman, not yet married, who was troubled each night by dreams. A man came to her bed, spoke soft words to her, caressed her body and treated her in such a manner as only her husband should. She woke each morning in a fever and finally she confided in her mother who went to the church for help. We exorcized the demon, mistress, but we found the girl no longer virgin and, not only that, we found her pregnant.’
‘Then she must have had a lover. When she realized that she was with child she made up the tale to try to cover her guilt. Perhaps to protect the man. The girl is to be pitied, not condemned.’
Prescott shook his head. ‘I can hear your voice tremble,’ he said. ‘Does your lover come to you in dreams? Has he seeded your belly? And when the months pass will you be delivered of a demon child?’
Kitty stared at him. He had come so close to speaking her own fears that at first she was struck dumb. Prescott noted her silence and the pallor of her face beneath the dirt.
‘I think I strike close to the truth,’ he said. ‘Did he come to you in dreams? Did he possess you while you slept? If this is the truth, woman, then why did you not seek help? Much of this business might have been avoided
.’
‘What happened to her?’ Kitty whispered.
Prescott shrugged. ‘We exorcized the demon, but the child still grew within her. It could not be allowed to live, of course. We allowed it birth, then I myself took its life in God’s name. Then we burned the woman. In Europe they know that fire cleanses.’
Kitty felt her stomach contract and the wine she had drunk come back up to burn her throat. She vomited, retching and choking while Prescott watched. He called for the jailer to take her back to her cell, looking with open distaste at the woman he had tortured, though, in accordance with the law, he had laid not even a finger upon her.
‘Take her away,’ he said. ‘And send someone to clean this mess. We will talk further,’ he said to Kitty. ‘And you will tell me of your dreams. Oh yes, and the small matter of which friends have joined you in your wrongdoing. I will want a list, Mistress Hallam. A full list when we speak again.’
Chapter Fifty-seven
George arrived at Sarah’s early the next morning while they were still having breakfast. He had the early editions of the two local papers with him together with one of the nationals, which had already picked up on the previous night’s events.
‘Must have a stringer on one of the locals,’ George commented. ‘You only made it to page five, but my guess is that this is only the beginning.’
Ray’s expression told him that he didn’t like the sound of that.
‘Tough, I’m afraid,’ George told him. ‘You’re news and it’s all the better for you having a back story.’
‘Your compassion is overwhelming,’ Ray said sourly. He’d had a bad night with very little sleep and George had arrived before he’d had his second mug of tea. He was feeling slightly less than human.
Sarah, on the other hand, had grabbed her reading glasses and was scanning the reports. ‘Shots fired in village church,’ she read. ‘Hardly accurate, is it? MI5 stakeout in the Royal Oak. Are you MI5, George?’
He smiled. ‘We’ve already had an official complaint about that one,’ he said. ‘We spooks have this aversion to being mistaken for one another.’