Dangerous Deception

by Anthea Fraser

  I knew then that whatever the consequences, I had to tell him the truth, today, before he went back to the hotel to find Carol Lawrence waiting.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, The good and bad together.’

  Shakespeare: Antony and Cleopatra

  PHILIP was not driving fast. The high hedges slipped gently past us on either side as the road began to rise again. I barely saw them; all my attention was centred on trying to find the best way to admit how I had deceived him.

  With every minute my sick apprehension grew; it was entirely possible this new, hard Philip would report me to Bryn, and there was no knowing how he would react. On the other hand, Philip might think I’d deliberately made a fool of him, and exact his own revenge. For there was no denying that almost all I had learned had been directly from him.

  Over and over I practised the opening words of my confession, but none of them seemed right. For I now realised that my thoughtless dabbling in what didn’t concern me was directly responsible for bringing us both into real danger.

  His voice interrupted me. “Keep your eyes open for a picnic spot.”

  I moistened dry lips. “We must be out of sight of the road.”

  “Still worrying about that car? It wasn’t necessarily following us, you know, just going in the same direction.”

  I was not reassured; at that moment the whole world seemed a threat.

  When I didn’t speak, he added, “He was making no attempt to keep out of sight, was he?”

  “Nevertheless, he doubled back to the castle when he found he’d lost us.”

  “Or simply missed the turning the first time.”

  I shook my head. Philip hadn’t believed me about Dick either, at first. “Look, there’s a turning here. Let’s try that.”

  He made a sharp turn and we found ourselves amid the branches of a little copse. The track wound on out of sight, but a short way down on the left was a five-barred gate.

  Philip pulled off the lane on to the grass edging it and stopped. Getting out of the car, I was relieved to see that a large, leafy bush screened us from anyone passing on the road.

  Beyond the gate lay a field, sloping away a little to the south-west, enclosed on the two nearer sides by high hedges. Over to the right and now several miles distant, Cefn Fawr raised its grim fortress to the sky, a reminder that my explanations were overdue.

  Philip handed me the packed lunches. “You take these while I get the cool-bag out of the boot – I put the drink cans in it. And I’ll bring my mac to sit on; the grass will be wet after yesterday.”

  I slipped the retaining wire off the gate and it swung open. The field was warm and sheltered and smelt of clover. We spread the mac in the right-angled corner nearest the gate and I unpacked the sandwiches and fruit, still worrying how I could tell what must be told.

  Philip handed me a can of shandy and a plastic mug and gestured to the sandwiches. “Help yourself.”

  My heart had started a series of low, thudding beats which I thought he must surely hear. “Not for the moment.”

  “Aren’t you hungry? I must say I am.” He took a sandwich and bit appreciatively into it. The time could no longer be delayed. Carefully I set down the shandy can. It had made my hand very cold.

  “Philip, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “Sounds serious. Can’t it wait till after lunch?”

  “No. If I don’t tell you now, I’ll never be able to. And Lord knows what would happen then.” My voice shook and he raised an eyebrow.

  “All right, go ahead if you must.” He reached for another sandwich.

  The sun was warm on my head and the stubbly grass patches felt knobbly under the macintosh. I pressed my hand down on them. My mouth was very dry.

  “I’m afraid I lied to you – at least by implication. I’m not Goldilocks.”

  I didn’t look at him. Time stretched between us, measured by my heartbeats. Then he put down the sandwich he was holding. “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know Bryn – I’ve never seen him in my life – and until just now at the castle, I hadn’t the remotest idea what all this was about.”

  There was a brief, taut silence, then he said harshly, “Is this some kind of game, Clare?”

  My nails bit into my palms. “No, honestly – you’ve got to believe me!”

  “How can I believe you?” His voice was like a whiplash. “You know I’m Aladdin, don’t you, and all about Sinbad and Beanstalk. Are you trying to tell me you’re psychic or something?”

  I shook my head hopelessly. “Please, Philip, just listen.”

  Stumblingly I began to tell him what had happened, beginning with the missed turning on the M4 and my decision to look for the hotel where he’d stayed with Matthew. And all the time I kept my eyes fixed on the ground, distractedly tearing up handfuls of grass as I spoke. But I knew, as he sat immobile, listening, that his own eyes never left me. I could feel them burning into me, trying to determine if I was, after all, telling the truth.

  When I’d finished, with the letter enclosing the plan of the castle being pushed under my door, there was a long silence. My heartbeats were drumming in my ears, pulsing in my temples. Above them, I could hear the carefree chirruping of a cricket in the long grass.

  Then Philip said tonelessly, “My God!”

  “I’m sorry,” I said through stiff lips.

  “Sorry!” He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Good God, Clare!” His voice deepened as the full implications began to strike him. “What possessed you to let yourself get embroiled?”

  I said dully, “I told you, I didn’t realise it was dangerous – not until I’d seen the plan and it was too late to draw back. I – I thought it was some kind of game.”

  “Then how did you know about Bryn?”

  “I didn’t, until you told me. He’d signed himself ‘Jack’.”

  Philip said without expression, “If they find out, they’ll kill you.”

  “I know,” I said, and shivered.

  “Then why are you telling me now?”

  “Because the real Goldilocks will be there when we get back.”

  He stared at me frowningly. “How do you know?”

  “There was a note in your room – before you arrived – saying she’d been delayed. I took it.” I stared fixedly at the gold disc that was the top of the shandy can.

  “You bloody little fool!”

  “I know, but there’s no point in going into that now. What are you going to do?”

  “What would you have done, if Aladdin had been someone else?”

  “I’m not sure. I was planning to find out as much as I could, and then go to the police. At the time, though, I’d very little to go on.”

  “And now that I’ve obligingly filled you in?” His voice was dangerous.

  I said, “Somehow you’ll have to trust me, Philip. I swear to you that if you – if you let me go, I won’t contact the police.”

  He said oddly, “If I let you go?”

  I licked my lips. “I realise I’ve no claim on you, none whatever. But for Uncle’s sake—”

  I stopped and at last looked up at him. His face was pale beneath the tan, and there was an expression in his eyes that I couldn’t begin to understand. He said violently, “Clare!” and then, a little shakily, “Do you honestly think—”

  I waited, watching him anxiously, and he drew a deep breath. “How much exactly do you know? This is important.”

  “Well, Jack is really this man called Bryn, who seems to be the organiser. Why all these code names, anyway?”

  “Because, as I said, he’s obsessed with secrecy and was afraid of information falling into the wrong hands.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “Ironic, that.”

  “You’re Aladdin, of course,” I hurried on, “and one of them at the hotel is Sinbad.” I stopped, glanced at him and away again. “Then there’s Goldilocks. You were right, by the way, it is Carol Lawrence.�
��

  Philip drew in his breath sharply.

  “You said it was her ‘baby’, though I don’t know why. Anyway, Bryn apparently hid these paintings in the castle after the fire, though what fire—”

  I broke off. Very dimly, something was beginning to stir at the back of my memory.

  “Go on,” Philip ordered.

  “Well, later, when the – insurance had paid up, Bryn instructed you to go to the States to find a buyer, and somehow or other you came up with the Zimmermans. They followed you back over here, outwardly on holiday but really, as you said earlier, to see what was on offer before they signed anything. And Sinbad took them to see the paintings.”

  “Go on,” he said again.

  “Well, they’re to be removed from the castle on Tuesday night and taken to Swansea docks—”

  “I laid that on a plate for you, didn’t I?” Philip said bitterly.

  “No doubt they’ll be removed before they reach the US coastline.”

  “By helicopter.”

  “Yes. Well, that’s about it. Except that you said they were worth a couple of million.”

  “In other words, there’s precious little you don’t know.”

  “I suppose not.” I pulled nervously on a blade of grass.

  “So how in God’s name can I expect you not to go to the police, now that you have it all so pat? You, a respectable, law-abiding citizen!” He made it sound like an insult.

  “Because I promised,” I said, aware of sounding naive.

  “Because you promised!” he repeated heavily. “Ye gods!”

  “And because,” I went on raggedly, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Matthew again. I’ve a lot to thank him for, haven’t I?”

  “No, not because of him this time.”

  My voice was barely audible, and I don’t think he heard me. He was saying roughly, “And no doubt he’s the reason you expect me not to give you away?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask.”

  “One hell of a lot. For a start, how am I going to explain you? That’s the immediate problem if, as you say, Carol will be there when we get back.”

  “I know; you’ll have to switch to her, and it’s bound to cause comment. The trouble is, we don’t know how many of them there are at the hotel, but Sinbad at least will be suspicious, having given all the information to me.”

  “You can’t go back,” Philip said, “that’s clear enough. I’ll run you to the nearest station and you can make your way back to London. After that, you’re on your own.”

  I shook my head. “It wouldn’t work. For one thing, it would confirm that I know something, and they’d have no difficulty tracking me down – my address is in the register and Bryn would find me in minutes. Also, how could you explain my sudden disappearance, specially after what happened to Dick? It would look extremely suspicious.”

  He bent forward and put his head in his hands. “Have you any better suggestions?”

  “You could tell Carol you thought I was Goldilocks, until I complained someone was playing tricks on me. I’d thrown the letters away, and you retrieved them from my waste-paper basket.”

  “Hardly convincing. Anyway, I wouldn’t have mistaken you if I’d received her message.”

  “Then miss out that bit. Just say we knew each other in London. I told someone that, and at least it’s the truth. Sinbad will be slated for not checking more thoroughly, but as long as everything goes off all right, perhaps it won’t matter.”

  He said caustically, “You’re forgetting that your pal Morgan witnessed our meeting, when we were playing according to the script. I can hardly go through the same routine with Carol.”

  He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “I’ll have to get word to her to act as though we don’t know each other – which, of course, we don’t – and say I’ll explain later. God, what a mess. And you’re really telling me you’ll let those paintings leave the country without lifting a finger to stop them?”

  “Yes. I swear it.”

  “And you still don’t know where they came from?”

  I stirred, staring at his half-eaten sandwich. It was curled and dry now, the once moist ham dark and hard.

  “I seem to remember hearing of a fire in a gallery somewhere. They managed to save a lot of the pictures, but several valuable ones were lost.”

  “The word ‘lost’ is suitably ambiguous.”

  I said quickly, “I don’t want to know any more.”

  He was staring down at the grass. “Then we come to us,” he said.

  I swallowed. “How do you mean?”

  “Today we’re all lovey-dovey on a picnic, this evening I go after someone else.”

  I drew a long, unsteady breath. “That’s easily explained; you overstepped the mark and I gave you the brush-off.”

  “It has a familiar ring.”

  Sudden tears stung my eyes. I said tartly, “Can you think of anything better?”

  He didn’t answer directly. “Let’s recap, then. To anyone at the hotel who isn’t involved, your charming scenario will hold good. You give me the push, so I make a play for Carol. Incidentally, how many people did you tell that you were expecting me?”

  I thought back. “Only Clive and Morgan. But the waiter, Harry, knew already, even before I did. Philip, he must be Sinbad!”

  Philip said grimly, “If any one of those three is, God help us. We’ll just have to play it by ear. And what if, despite Carol’s arrival, Sinbad goes on thinking you’re Goldilocks?”

  “We’ll have to convince him otherwise.”

  “All right. I don’t like it one bit, but since I seem to have no choice I’ll play it your way. I just wish to God you were safely in London and had never set foot in this damned place.”

  A cloud moved over the sun and I shivered, only too aware now of the dangers that faced us. For behind those pantomime names were dangerous men, intent on the fortune almost within their grasp, and neither Philip nor I could expect any mercy from them if our deceit was uncovered.

  Hard on that thought, I said urgently, “Look, you asked me earlier to drop this for Uncle’s sake; now I’m asking – begging – you. Please don’t go through with it. We can go to the police now, tell them where the paintings are, and lie low till they’re recovered and everyone’s rounded up. Oh, please, Philip!”

  “You forget,” he said drily, “that I’m as heavily involved as the rest of them. If, as you put it, ‘everyone’s rounded up’, that’ll include me.”

  “But if you tell the authorities—”

  “Turn coppers’ nark, you mean? Save my own bacon at the expense of my colleagues?”

  I caught desperately at his arm, feeling him stiffen. “But suppose something goes wrong? What would happen to you?”

  He tilted my head back, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were a deep, burning blue. “It seems to me,” he said softly, “that you’re more concerned about my welfare now I’m a seasoned criminal, than when I was an upright insurance man. Right?”

  I nodded speechlessly, and a few of the tears spilled on to my cheeks. He said something under his breath and, his hand still on my throat holding me away from him, kissed me once, bruisingly. His eyes when they met mine again were unreadable.

  “That’s by way of apology,” he said unevenly, “for ever thinking you could be—”

  He broke off and his fingers made a brief, caressing movement as they left my throat. I caught at his hand and held it tightly between mine, tears now raining down my face. I had no pride left, no control, just the need to keep him with me, and if possible out of danger.

  “But there must be some way out! I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you—”

  He tore his hand away, his eyes blazing in his white face.

  “Stop it, Clare, just stop it – do you hear? Don’t you realise how long we’ve been working on this thing, the planning, the timing, all the intricate details? Then you come blundering along and expect m
e to chuck it all in just to please you! Well, God help me, once I might have done, but not any more. As it is, you near as dammit ruined the whole operation. So for God’s sake stop crying and pull yourself together. And—” his voice was low and vicious – “leave me alone!”

  I gazed at him, shock drying the tears on my face, and he turned violently away and started to gather up the uneaten food. Unmoving, almost unbreathing, I watched him, the lines on his face etched as if in stone, his mouth grim.

  So it had come to this. Philip now regarded me as I once had him – someone whose presence was unwelcome, to be brushed out of the way, escaped from. What satisfaction it must have given him, to see me beginning to love him, to make me admit it.

  My breathing steadied to a series of deep, shuddering gasps. A bird called suddenly from the hedge, and it was as if a spell had been broken. A shaft of sunlight struck the gold shandy can, hurting my throbbing eyes.

  He spoke at last, and only an undercurrent in his voice gave any hint of the emotional storm that had passed between us.

  “So we’ve established that, as far as the people at the hotel are concerned, I tried to get out of line and was dealt with accordingly. Are you going to slap my face, or do we take that as read?”

  “I’m not in the mood for facetiousness,” I said, with what little dignity was left to me. I got to my feet and he bent to pick up the mac and shake it out. In silence we made our way back to the car, and in silence we drove all the interminable way back to the hotel. If there had been a red car behind us, with machine guns sticking out of each window and a James Bond smokescreen behind, I doubt if either of us would have noticed it.

  As we turned off the main road, I made my stiff little speech. “I should like to apologise for making an exhibition of myself. It must have been the strain. I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  Philip’s reaction took me by surprise. His foot jammed on the brake and the car rocketed to a halt. He said, “Clare – don’t! I’m sorry if—”