Angel of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Tell me another.’

  ‘It’s the way she operates. The way she has always operated. The way she has to operate, and still be Anna. If she ever felt she’d executed the wrong man, she would not be able to live with herself.’

  Baxter cleared his throat, loudly.

  ‘OK,’ Clive conceded. ‘But that happens to be a fact. So obviously what happened is that while she was establishing that Fahri was guilty of blowing up those planes, the penny dropped and he tried to take action. We have found a Browning automatic pistol, which is certainly not Anna’s, with one cartridge fired. There is a bullet hole in the wall of Fahri’s bedroom, immediately in line with the foot of the bed, where Anna would have been standing. So, when he realized he was for the high jump, Fahri must have produced the pistol. But at the same time he must have activated the alarm system. He also managed to get off one shot before Anna killed him.’

  ‘All right. Let’s suppose that scenario is accurate. She’s killed her target, but she can’t get out of the house. Why couldn’t you pick her up on the spot?’

  Clive sighed. ‘Because we couldn’t get in.’

  ‘But you said that after a few minutes the door was opened?’

  ‘Exactly. Clearly either Khouri was also upstairs, and interrupted her, or she rounded him up. Either way, she made him release the shutters.’

  ‘And then shot him. That doesn’t sit too well with your conscience-satisfying theory.’

  ‘Oh, come now, Billy. You know that Khouri was every bit as guilty as Fahri. The two men had been partners all their lives.’

  ‘All right. You’re now in the house. And so is Anna. How many exits were there?’

  ‘Only two. Out the back through the kitchens, or out the front door.’

  ‘And I assume you had them both covered?’

  ‘I did. Anyway, to get out the back she would have had to pass through all of the staff, who were still clearing away after dinner.’

  ‘And to get out the front, she would have had to pass you. But she got out. Don’t tell me, she snapped her fingers and said Kazam, or whatever it is, and became invisible.’

  ‘Billy,’ Clive said severely, ‘I have had an exhausting and traumatic evening, and I’m very tired. Don’t press your luck. Anna got out because when necessary she can think with the speed and clarity of one of those computers which we are told are being developed. Having killed both Fahri and Khouri, and with the shutters opened, she must have headed downstairs to leave by the front door. But when she got to the gallery overlooking the entry hall, she saw me and my team. Those heavies who were on guard duty don’t know just how lucky they were. If they had tried to stop her, they’d both have been dead.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me how she did it.’

  ‘From the gallery, she would have been able to hear what we were saying, and knew we would be going upstairs to interview Fahri; at least, so we thought. So she opened a window and jumped out.’

  ‘How high is this gallery?’

  ‘The window is fifteen feet above the ground.’

  ‘And you think she jumped out and walked away?’

  ‘Someone did. The bushes beneath the window were broken and scattered. And we found the Browning there. She must have dropped it when she fell, and didn’t waste time looking for it.’

  ‘Now just a minute. She did all this while you were passing the gallery to go upstairs, and you didn’t hear her? Or notice the open window?’

  ‘No, because she obviously hid herself until we were past, and then we made a mistake. I had Wilkins with me, having left Osborne by the door. Wilkins is a very smart lad, unfortunately. When we got to the bedroom and saw the bodies, he immediately tested them and they were still warm. So he said the obvious thing, the killer must still be in the house. I reckoned he must be right; and as we had been shown the way by the butler, I pointed at the control panel and asked him if he could operate it. He could, and did, immediately. So we were sealed in.’

  ‘Without realizing that Anna was already out. What a fuck-up! But wait a minute. Anna is now in the garden, apparently unhurt?’

  ‘We don’t know that.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t appear that she was too much hampered. So she’s in the garden. Are you saying that this so-called fortress doesn’t have guard dogs?’

  ‘There are two Rottweilers.’

  ‘And what happened to them?’

  ‘They’re all right.’

  ‘You’ve lost me again. The Rottweilers didn’t attack her?’

  ‘Billy, Anna doesn’t have to kill dogs. When they get close enough to smell the hostility she can project, they are terrified.’

  ‘So she then commandeered a car and drove out. While you and your henchmen were locked in. You have to either laugh or weep. But wait a minute. Didn’t you have men outside the house?’

  ‘Yes. And outside the gate. But Anna wasn’t alone. She had a man with her wearing a chauffeur’s uniform. The gates are controlled by a light signal, you see, which Anna could not have known. She needed the chauffeur to open them for her. My people on the gate tried to stop them and were nearly mown down. They then came to the house and banged on the door, which alerted us to raise the shutters again.’

  ‘And your murderer got clear away. That is a most ingenious reconstruction, Clive, even if Anna’s ice-cold thinking and decisive action contrast strongly with your utter incompetence. However, I cannot see that we are a lot worse off. She has disappeared, and there isn’t a shred of evidence that will stand up in court that it was Anna. London is full of good-looking long-haired bimbos. And any competent defence lawyer would destroy in seconds any identification evidence offered by the bodyguards or the butler – who, as they were employed by Fahri, almost certainly have criminal records.’

  ‘If she is caught, it could come to court, Billy.’

  ‘My dear fellow . . .’

  ‘Because we do have a positive identification.’

  ‘Namely?’

  ‘A sable coat hanging in the downstairs closet, worn by Fahri’s dinner guest. Now, how many long-haired blonde bimbos who frequent sleazy nightclubs and allow themselves to be picked up by strange gentlemen also possess sable coats?’

  ‘And you think Anna abandoned a coat like that?’

  ‘I’m quite sure she regretted having to do it. But she didn’t have much choice. Anyway, Anna’s career is littered with abandoned sable coats. I know of two others at least.’

  Baxter sighed. ‘OK, so there’s some circumstantial evidence that she was there. But to make that stick, she has to be arrested, and it has to be proved that she was in this country at all. She’s probably already left, and will no doubt produce evidence, supported by the CIA, that she never left the Bahamas. Wouldn’t the best and safest option be just to let the police get on with it, if they can? Then we can hold up our hands and say that in visiting Fahri we were acting in good faith on information received, but don’t have a clue as to who the assassin was.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Billy. I don’t think that’s an option. Apart from the coat, though only I can testify that it’s definitely hers, we have Bordman’s positive identification.’

  ‘That he saw her at a nightclub in London, and recognized her instantly after thirteen years. Even if he’s believed, we can admit that she may have been breaking the rules by being in this country. But that doesn’t prove that she had anything to do with Fahri’s death.’

  ‘Except that the maître d’ at the club has identified her as being there on the night that Bordman claims to have seen her, thus confirming Bordman’s story. And he saw her having a tête-à-tête with Khouri. Then the next night Khouri is murdered, by a long-haired blonde. Scotland Yard aren’t too slow at adding two and two and making four.’

  ‘Maybe. But they still don’t know what name she is operating under, or where she has been staying, and probably still is. And as I said, there are an awful lot of long-haired blondes floating around London. Given Fahri’s track record of lu
ring them to his house with promises of a movie career and then throwing them out after having sex with them, there must be quite a few of these bimbos who would be very happy to put a bullet in his brain.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right. Unfortunately, the police do, or shortly will have, a location where she can be found.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘According to the staff at the house, Anna was delivered there by Fahri’s own car, a Daimler, driven by his personal chauffeur. Ergo, she was picked up by same car and chauffeur. And she left the grounds tonight in a Daimler with a uniformed man at the wheel. As I said, that had to be the chauffeur, probably with a gun in his ribs. When the police find the car and the chauffeur, he will be able to tell them where she is staying. They won’t need to know her name. A description will do.’

  ‘There is no chance of that,’ Baxter argued. ‘That fellow is dead by now.’

  ‘Anna doesn’t kill innocent people,’ Clive said coldly.

  ‘All right, all right. So the chauffeur is the key. What can you do about that?’

  ‘Find him before the police do.’

  ‘That’s a bloody tall order. And supposing you do, are you going to put a bullet in his brain yourself?’

  ‘I can put him under wraps for a couple of hours. The point is that at this moment Anna is confident that she has got away with it, as she has so often in the past. I don’t know exactly what plans she may have, but I’m damned sure they involve flying back to the Bahamas and regaining the cay; then, as you said, she’ll deny that she ever left it. Even if it is impossible to prove that she’s working for the CIA, as she certainly is, they have always provided her in the past with every possible alibi, and they’re likely to do so again. But the earliest flight to Nassau isn’t until eleven tomorrow morning.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I beg your pardon, this morning. That means she will assume she has time to return to her hotel, maybe even have a sleep, and certainly change her clothes, before trotting along to the airport at about ten – blissfully unaware that well before that the police may be knocking on her door. Even if they’re slow off the mark, they’ll certainly get out an APB to all airports and ferry terminals. If I can get to her before that happens, I can get her out of there and keep her under wraps until it’s safe for her to leave the country. To do that, I need to find that chauffeur before the police do.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Baxter said.

  *

  During her apparently insouciant shopping trips around London, Anna had carefully sized up and committed to memory all of the possible parking places within walking distance of the hotel, as from the beginning she had been trying to determine the best means of getting back after her assignment; the odds against finding a taxi in the middle of the night in rural Surrey were simply too long. But whatever means of transport she discovered, there was no way she could risk being dropped at the Royal George, to which she could then easily be traced.

  Of course all the parks would be closed, and there was no guarantee that she would be able to find a space on a street. But she had discovered that about eight blocks away there was another hotel, much smaller and less grandiose than the Royal George, that had a driveway where there were always parked cars.

  She turned into this, stopped, and got out. The space was not really big enough and the rear of the car stuck out – which, sure enough, attracted the attention of the doorman, who at just before midnight was the only other person in the vicinity. He hurried down the steps and came towards her. ‘I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t park there. You’re causing an obstruction.’

  ‘Oh, gosh,’ Anna said, and held out the keys and a folded £5 note. ‘Do you think you could park it for me?’

  He eyed the note, then took it and the keys. ‘I can do that for you, miss. Guest in the hotel, are you?’

  ‘Why else would I be here? Thank you so much.’

  He peered at her, taking in the untidy hair, the torn dress, the scratches on her arms. ‘Are you all right, miss?’

  ‘I had an accident,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh, good lord! But . . .’ He looked at the undamaged car.

  ‘The car wasn’t involved, thank God. I was returning to it, and some beastly cyclist knocked me over, into some bushes. And the bastard never even stopped.’

  ‘These young people are terrible nowadays,’ he agreed. ‘If you will give me your room number, I’ll have the nurse come and take a look at you to make sure you’re all right.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’ She set off down the drive.

  ‘Hold on, miss. Aren’t you going in?’

  ‘I just have to nip down to the chemists on the corner. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’

  ‘Madam, there is no chemist on the corner.’

  ‘Not that corner,’ Anna said. ‘The other one.’

  That clearly needed working out. ‘But you don’t have a coat,’ he protested. ‘You’ll freeze.’

  ‘Not in ten minutes.’

  She hurried down the street, high heels clicking on the pavement. It was certainly necessary to move quickly, to keep her blood circulating, but when she was out of sight of the hotel she paused beneath a street lamp to peer at herself in her compact mirror. It was very small but she could see that she looked a mess, and could understand the doorman’s concern. In addition to her appearance, she was for the first time aware of her cuts and bruises, which were becoming extremely painful. All things to be attended to when she reached the hotel.

  She hurried on. Her brain remained in turmoil. It was not that the assignment had turned out to be any more traumatic than most of her other assignments, nor had her escape been any more enervating. But the appearance of Clive had been a considerable shock.

  Obviously, as she had realized immediately, he had been there because of Bally’s identification. But the rapidity with which he had deduced her target . . . Of course, she knew that before he joined MI6 he had spent several years with Scotland Yard and had been considered one of their best detectives. But even so . . .

  On the other hand, she reminded herself, while Clive, and no doubt Baxter, had been quite sure who they were after, no one else could possibly know who the mysterious woman had to have been; and she was equally certain neither of them would turn her in to be tried for murder. Of course there would be all hell to pay, and no doubt her certificate of immunity would be withdrawn, but once she got back to the Bahamas under the umbrella of Joe’s certificate . . . Besides, she had no doubt that he would step in and sort things out with the British Government. And then she would be done, done, done! Nothing else really mattered.

  So all she had to do was get on that eleven o’clock plane before the police could trace her to the Royal George. She looked at her watch as the hotel came into sight. It was just coming up to twelve o’clock. She very much doubted that the driver would have managed to free himself yet. It was so tempting to have a hot bath and a lie-down before leaving again, but the lie-down would be too much of a risk. She could sleep the whole way back on the plane.

  She went through the swing doors into the lobby, smiling at the man standing there, who looked askance at the sight of her. As she had now been a resident of the hotel for nearly two weeks, she was well known to the staff; and the doorman also did a double take as he took in her appearance. But he made no comment, only touched his cap; unlike the clerk on the reception desk, who peered at her as he handed her her key.

  ‘Are you all right, Miss Kelly?’

  ‘Apparently I am,’ Anna said. ‘The car I was in was involved in a smash.’

  ‘Oh, good lord! The police . . .’

  ‘Were at the scene, yes.’

  ‘But are you all right? Shall I call the hotel doctor?’

  ‘No, thank you. They called an ambulance, and the ambulance men checked me over and told me to go home to bed. But thank you, anyway.’

  She went to the lift, rode up feeling the warmth seeping though her system. Her sole thought was of that hot bath she had promised he
rself. The lift halted at the fourth floor, and she stepped out. Halfway along the corridor she passed a man, without a sideways glance. But then he said, ‘Anna? Mrs Bartley? I don’t believe it!’

  Anna turned, her right hand instinctively releasing the side vent in her dress to enable her to reach her pistol, then realized who it was. ‘Mark? Good God! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m staying here. Well, overnighting, actually. But you . . .’

  Alarm bells were jangling, but she was still on her post-assignment high, and her mind was consumed with the thought of that bath. ‘What a coincidence. And you say you’re leaving tomorrow?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  His eyes flickered, and Anna heard movement behind her. She turned, her hand slipping inside her dress to grasp the pistol – but as she did so, Hamilton threw both arms round her, squeezing her tightly against him.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ she snapped, and felt a sharp pain in her left shoulder.

  WANTED BUT MISSING

  Baxter opened the office door, and blinked at Amy Barstow. ‘Good morning, Amy. I am assuming that it is, a good morning.’

  ‘Well, sir . . .’

  ‘Never mind, I have troubles of my own. Is there any word from Mr Bartley?’

  ‘He is in your office, sir.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ He opened the inner door. ‘Where is she?’

  Clive looked at him.

  ‘Oh, shit! Don’t tell me the police got there first?’

  ‘Yes, Billy, the police got to the hotel before us.’

  Baxter sat behind his desk, instinctively reaching for his pipe – which he was not allowed to take home. ‘What a fuck-up! So she’s under arrest?’

  ‘No, Billy, she is not under arrest.’

  ‘You mean she got out before they got there? You have to hand it to that girl, she’s a quick mover. But hold on, if you reckon she’s trying to get back to the Bahamas and there’s no flight until eleven, they still have time to close the airports. Do you have any idea where she might be?’