by K T Findlay
She looked startled.
‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Peregrin. I’m wearing what I usually wear when I go cycling. I’ve been wearing it for almost a year now. It’s hardly new! I mean look at it! If someone is dressed like me, then it’s them dressed like me, not me dressed like them!’
Peregrin noted the scratches and rub marks on the coat, the small tufts of fabric pulled from the beret, none of them recent.
‘You can ask around Little Throcking if you like. I’m sure someone can tell you.’ she said.
‘Where have you been today?’ Peregrin continued. ‘It’s very important.’
Emma took her time thinking about it, and managed to consume a full two minutes to complete the tale of her journey.
‘Your fellow officers can probably confirm me in Jenk’s, as can the staff in the Cutty Sark, and you can take the film from this camera to show the rest. There’s one frame left on the reel, but I don’t mind if I lose that.’ she said helpfully.
Peregrin looked at her fixedly for a full ten seconds without saying a word, but Emma just looked calmly back at him.
He turned to Susan and Eric. ‘You two, go down to the river and look for her. She has to be there somewhere! With the guys on the cliff, the others at the ends of the trail, and the guys up in the village, there’s no way she can get out. Take your time and hunt her down. I’ll send in more people to help you as they arrive.’
Then he turned to Emma.
‘I’m afraid I’ll need to take your bike and all the clothing you’re wearing Emma. I’ll escort you to Little Throcking, then we’ll get a WPC to take you back to your house where you can change and give her the clothes.’
‘As you wish Peregrin.’ said Emma, her tone now slightly sniffy.
‘Look Emma,’ he said in a matter of fact tone, ‘there are just two possibilities here. Either you’re in this up to your eyebrows, or somebody is going to a lot of trouble to set you up, and just got very, very lucky today. Whichever it is, I need your gear to prove it.’
‘Understood Peregrin.’ she said. ‘I’m hardly flattered, but I understand!’
Secretly, Peregrin was deeply worried that he’d closed the doors too late, so when he saw two more cyclists coming down the hill towards him, he stopped them to talk.
‘Did you see anything unusual between here and the bridge on your way down today?’ he asked.
‘Not half!’ said one of the men grinning.
His companion’s grin was even bigger. ‘A gorgeous redhead, in the most amazing sweater! She was coming out of the southern Widow Maker track as we were coming out of the north. We couldn’t believe our luck when she squeezed past us heading up the moor.’
Peregrin turned to Emma. ‘Can you open your coat please Emma?’
Emma obliged.
‘Was the sweater like this one?’ he asked.
The men nodded. ‘Very similar, yes.’
Peregrin never took his eyes off a now worried looking Emma. ‘And can you describe her?’
‘About a 36C.’ said the first man, trying to keep a straight face.
Peregrin’s gaze left Emma and seared into him.
He put up his hands in supplication. ‘Okay! Okay! A really nice lady okay? Light build, nice figure, absolutely gorgeous hair…’
‘And quite strongly freckled. Cute though.’ smiled the other man.
‘And the bike?’ asked Peregrin.
‘You’ve got to be joking!’ laughed the first man. ‘When you’ve got the Mona Lisa in front of you, you don’t look at the floor boards!’
Peregrin shook his head in frustration. ‘Well, I’m afraid I’ll need to commandeer your bikes for the afternoon.’
‘What! But how’ll we get home? What if you damage it?’ wailed the first man.
‘We’ll drive you home, and we’ll pay for any damage, but we need those bikes. Now!’ he said firmly.
‘You two.’ He said to the remaining uniformed boys. ‘Take those bikes and get up the Widow Maker track after her.’
‘I can’t ride a bike sir.’ said one of them in a shy voice.
Peregrin looked at him in disbelief. ‘What kind of cop can’t…’
‘I’ll go with him.’ said the second man quickly. ‘I know the trails up there.’
‘I accept!’ said Peregrin turning to face him. ‘This here officer’s called Sam. And your name is?’
‘Don.’ said the cyclist.
‘Okay, Sam this is Don, Don this is Sam. Off you go. Quickly now!’
‘Faster than that!’ he threw after their retreating backs.
‘That was a nice offer.’ he observed to the now bikeless rider.
‘Nice be damned.’ muttered the man. ‘He just didn’t want you blokes riding his bike!’
Peregrin gave him a grin and walked back to his car to use the radio.
‘Attention everyone, our target has changed her appearance. She’s now a dazzling redhead in a white sweater, no longer a blonde, and just this once, red means go for it!’
◆◆◆
James ambled back up the hill, trying not to draw attention to himself. After grabbing a warmer jacket and his binoculars, he jumped into the van and headed west out of the village, aiming to get to the northern end of the Widow Maker before the police did.
◆◆◆
Back at the castle, Freddy had spotted Selina entering the southern end of the Widow Maker, and then Sally in her red wig flitting across the road and squeezing past the two cyclists. Without the coat and blonde hair, only the fact that he’d already seen her wearing the redhead disguise told him it was Sally.
With just his own bicycle for transport, there wasn’t much he could do now except wait and watch the police flying around the place.
‘If she can get out of this…’ he thought.
◆◆◆
Susan and Eric arrived at the trees by the flying fox, and began to search. Susan went to the concrete block, while Eric searched the bushes on the left of the trail.
‘Found it!’ they both called at the same time.
They looked at each other in astonishment.
‘I’ve found her footprints. What are you talking about?’ asked Susan.
‘I think I’ve found where she’s hidden a bike.’ said Eric. ‘Look here. It seems to me as if someone’s concealed a bike under these branches, but when they dragged it out they’ve made marks in the mud. See? Here’s where the pedal was, and there are the front and back wheels.’
Susan gave him a mock salute. ‘Well done grasshopper. You have done well, oh favoured one from the Astra plane.’
Eric bridled. ‘I’m not completely useless you know!’
She laughed. ‘I never said you were! Okay what happened next?’
She looked at the marks on the ground. ‘We’re in luck. There are two different tyre tread patterns. Did you notice what kind of tyres Emma’s bike had?’
‘Why would I have done that?’ asked Eric sarcastically.
‘Okay, okay, fair point. Come on let’s go.’
Susan led them off up the trail, following the tracks until they arrived at the split. ‘I’ll take this set, you the other one.’ she said. ‘We’ll meet up on the road. Whichever of us gets there first, comes back down the other track until we meet, okay?’
‘Agreed.’ said Eric, and shot off up the Widow Maker.
‘And be careful!’ Susan shouted after him. ‘All mouth and no trousers.’ she muttered as she set off herself.
Eric pushed on as fast as he could. He’d had a bad day so far, and catching that wretched woman before Susan would make up for it nicely. The narrow, twisting nature of the track made it extremely difficult, but still he pressed on until he came to the bluff with the horseshoe bend.
He looked at it with wide eyes. Then he looked at Selina’s tyre marks tracking around the curve. Well, what a girl could do, so could he.
Slowly, and with great care, he set out across the bluff. He turned easily into the
right hand bend leading into the horseshoe, and wobbled perilously around the horseshoe itself, but then came the right handed exit.
Selina had figured out that at that point the cliff came down so close to the edge of the track that she wouldn’t be able to pedal there. She’d have to go across it with her right pedal up and her left pedal down, with enough momentum to coast through it, and even then she’d only just made it.
Eric had made no such assessment, which is why he was riding so slowly. By the time he realised the problem, it was too late. His right foot came down and the end of the pedal hit the cliff face. Initially he managed to hold his balance, but he’d come to a dead halt.
At first the bike simply pivoted around the bottom of its wheels, Eric’s head describing a rapidly accelerating arc towards the ground. Then momentum took over, and bike and rider started to tumble through the air until they arrived with a splash at the edge of the pond.
The wheels hit first, at an angle of forty five degrees. Eric hit second, falling backwards, his left leg trapped inside the frame of the bike.
The human body is an incredibly compliant thing, but even a femur can break in the right circumstances. In the absolutely wrong circumstances, it can break and punch a hole through the flesh to compound the issue.
Which hurts.
A lot.
For the first few seconds, the initial shock mercifully shielded him from the wall of agony, then his screams echoed throughout the little valley, and he writhed uncontrollably in the water.
The subconscious instinct for self preservation kicked in and his fingers scrabbled for grip in the gravel and rocks as he hauled himself and the still entangling bike out of the pool. He didn’t even notice the blood pouring from his finger tips. The pain from his leg swamped every other sensation.
Susan found him ten minutes later as she came down the track from the road to look for him. He was quiet by then, cold, and deeply in shock.
She quickly assessed his injuries, stripped off his wet jacket, draped her own dry one around him and went for help.
‘They’ve gone after her up the Widow Maker! On bikes! And she’s a redhead now!’ said the excited officer guarding the trail exit.
‘I don’t give a damn!’ she shouted. ‘Give me your jacket and then radio for an ambulance with mountain rescue gear. We’ve a man down, compound fracture of the leg, in shock, possibly fatal!’
The man just stood like a dummy, his mouth open in surprise.
‘Do it!!’ shrieked Susan. ‘Give me your bloody jacket!’
‘Must be a magic bit of track that.’ he grumbled as the cold hit his shirt. ‘She goes in a blonde and comes out a redhead. He goes in after her and gets his leg broken. I wonder what’s going to happen to those poor buggers who’ve just gone up there after her?’
◆◆◆
Selina was very much in two minds as she fought her way up the Widow Maker. On the one hand it was great that the two cyclists had spotted her, because the myth of the redhead would be ever more firmly entrenched. On the other, it might mean that the police would be after her that much quicker. Then she grinned. They didn’t have bikes. What chance would they have?
However, caution made her stop and glance back when she reached the dangerous hairpin bluff near the top of the Widow Maker. A long way back she spotted two cyclists coming hard after her. One of them was dressed very much like a policeman.
To her surprise, she dealt easily with the bluff, and then picked up her pace a touch. It wasn’t a sprint, she reminded herself. She needed a pace she could maintain.
She sacrificed a bit of time when she hit the first intersecting track, by turning east and leaving clear tyre marks in the dirt. Fifty yards in she dismounted, and carried her bike back to the Widow Maker, taking care to walk on the grass to the side of the track.
A hundred yards up the Widow Maker she mounted again, but this time went out of her way to try not to leave obvious tracks.
Sam followed Sally’s tyre tracks onto her false trail, the scent of blood in his nostrils. Behind him, Don was more relaxed. He was fitter than the officer, and able to be more observant.
‘Stop!’ he called out.
‘What the hell is it?’ gasped Sam.
‘The tracks have stopped. I haven’t seen them for about fifty yards.’
‘Bugger it. She must be carrying her bike!’ grumbled Sam.
Don looked around thoughtfully. ‘The question is, which way did she go? Has she doubled back, or gone ahead to the ford across the Sky river?’
‘You said you know these trails. If it was you which way would you go?’
‘Easy. I’d go for the ford. The trail splits into three on the eastern side of the Sky river, and then they all split again at various times. Going back west only takes you to the road to Ipington, just out of Little Throcking, so that’d be crazy for her to do. The only other track that the Widow Maker joins is the headwaters track, which is a right bastard on a bike, so she’d have to stay on Widow Maker, which winds up in the middle of nowhere, high on the moors. It’s a sod of a place.’ Don smiled.
The policeman thought for a moment. ‘Makes sense. Okay, how do you feel about splitting up?’
‘What? Chase that gorgeous creature on my own? You’re on! Say, what’s she supposed to have done anyway?’
‘Killed three men in cold blood.’
Don looked askance. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously! Now Mr Trailman, how do you feel about tracking her up the Widow Maker. I’m not asking you to catch her, just follow her if that’s the way she’s gone.’
Don looked suddenly anxious, but nodded his assent. ‘Okay, I guess. Especially as she’s not likely to be there.’
‘Good lad! Okay. I’ll go this way, you chase her up there as long as you feel safe. I’ll find a place where this wretched radio works.’
‘What? You mean it doesn’t work everywhere?’ asked Don.
Sam grimaced unhappily. ‘It’s a right piece of crap when you come down to it, especially out here!’
Sam had to cross the Sky river ford before he could make radio contact and tell them what was happening.
Peregrin blew his top. ‘You’ve done what?! Do you have the slightest idea what the press would do if he goes and gets himself killed being a hero? Get after the blighter now! We’ll send officers to seal off all those tracks to the east, and the ones to the west for good measure. Just make sure he’s okay!’
A chastened Sam became a very alarmed Sam when he spotted Selina’s tracks again on the Widow Maker. He tried his radio, but as usual it didn’t work in a river valley.
Further up the track, Don was closing in on Sally. He too had seen the tracks start up again, but knew he was on his own at this point. He was being very watchful now he knew what kind of person he was chasing.
Selina burst out of the trail and onto the droving lane, and just a minute later she was wrenching open the gate to the field.
‘Thank you Tullio Campagnolo, for inventing the quick release wheel!’ she murmured softly as she threw the bike and front wheel into the back of the Range Rover.
The engine started with a roar, but she took care not to spin the Range Rover’s wheels as she turned it around and drove through the gate. Once more she had to do a multi-point turn to get it around the tight corner, but in reality it was just a few seconds before she was rocketing away up the lane. She was just entering the last corner at the top of the straight as Don appeared at the bottom. It was a full six minutes later before Sam joined him, totally out of breath.
‘We’re too late mate.’ said Don. ‘She’s in a four wheel drive. We’ve got no chance now.’
Sam swore loudly. ‘What kind was it? Did you see it?’
Don shook his head. ‘I only caught a glimpse. It was a dark colour, and big, not one of those prissy little Suzuki things. And it’s got bloody great big off road tyres judging by the prints it’s left.’
While Sam sought out a piece of high ground where his r
adio might work, Selina hammered on up the droving lane as fast as she dared. At the end of it, she laid yet another false trail in the mud by turning west towards Ipington, but as soon as the tyres stopped leaving a muddy trail on the tarmac, she did a three point turn and headed east.
She raced down Bleak Road as fast as the Range Rover was capable, but turned gently into Drunkard’s Lane, making sure to leave no obvious trace on its dirty surface. Behind her she could hear the cry of police sirens as the force raced to cut off all the trails.
Sam had finally got through on his radio.
When she reached the ford, Selina turned immediately left into the water, and roared up and down the stream bed as fast as she dared, without ripping up its surface. While not perfect, it did a pretty good job of washing off the mud and dirt from the tyres and underside of the car.
Then she changed the wheels, much faster than she had the had the day before, repacked the back of the car, swapped the plates, cleaned her face and whipped off the wig and sweater.
Sally drove the Range Rover in a civilised and legal manner to the northern end of Drunkard’s Lane, and turned north towards Little Dimpton. Half an hour later she was in Dalton park, using some newly purchased charcoal, pencils and paper to sketch the visitors as they went about their pleasures.
Sally Mellors, artist, was back at work.
25 Tightening the net
Already on his way back from an interview in Ipington, Tony Peterson was the first to arrive at the northern end of the droving lane on Bleak Road, just after a quarter past one.
‘There are tyre marks from some serious off road tyres coming out of the track and heading for Ipington sir.’ he reported to Peregrin via radio. ‘They’re the only car tyre marks here, but there’s one set in and one set out. Same car I’d say.’
‘Then you must have passed her, surely?’ queried Peregrin.
‘Negative sir. There wasn’t a single car on the road between here and the main road to Ipington. And there’s nowhere for one to get off the road along there either.’