Dangerous Deception

by Anthea Fraser

  “But I wouldn’t!” I interrupted, galvanised into speech. “I swear I wouldn’t! Philip’s father is my uncle – I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

  Morgan said shortly, “Sorry, can’t risk it.” He turned back to the others. “We’ll have to revise our plans; originally, as you know, I was to stay here, but as things stand our best course is just to double up – two couples instead of one. Clare and I’ll come with you.”

  He paused, but although both Philip and Carol looked uneasy, neither of them protested further, or suggested an alternative. Morgan looked at his watch. “It’s nine now, and completely dark. You girls go and change into something more suitable, then come back here. Carol, stay with her all the time.”

  He nodded his dismissal and Carol pushed me out of the door on to the landing.

  “I haven’t got my key,” I said. “I’ll have to go down for it.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  In silence and side by side, we went downstairs. In the lounge I could see the school-teachers and the Mortimers drinking coffee. I still hadn’t had the chance to apologise.

  “What number is it?” Carol asked.

  I told her and she reached over, took down the key, and accompanied me back upstairs. Thank heaven I hadn’t left the letters out, I thought fervently, as I opened my door.

  Her cool eyes watched me impersonally as I exchanged my dress for jeans and my warmest sweater. Finally I put on walking shoes, took the waterproof jacket from the wardrobe and turned to face her.

  “Ready,” I said, with as much lightness as I could muster.

  She examined the hood on the jacket and nodded, satisfied. “You’ll need that to cover your hair; it’ll show up in the dark. Right, my turn.”

  Silently I went with her past the stairhead to the room which had been Dick Harvey’s. There, having swiftly changed into a black sweater, trousers and anorak, she looked lovelier than ever, face and hair glowing radiantly and her eyes alight with excitement. Tonight was the culmination of months of planning and risk-taking, and if I did anything to hinder her, she would, I knew, be totally ruthless.

  Morgan and Philip must have been been listening for our return, and came out as we approached the door.

  “Turn left, and through the door at the end,” Morgan directed in a low voice. “It leads to the service stairs.”

  As we passed the Mortimer children’s room, I could hear Emma murmuring in her sleep. Then we were on the back staircase. From below came the sound of voices and a sudden laugh.

  Philip’s voice said in my ear, “Steady!” He gripped my hand, and I felt something scrape against my palm – something small and brittle, with sharp edges. A ball of paper. My fingers closed on it, and in the same moment I saw two doors immediately opposite the foot of the stairs – the staff lavatories.

  “Shan’t be a minute,” I said quickly, and shot inside the ladies’. I heard Morgan swear, and Carol say placatingly, “She hasn’t got a mobile – I checked.”

  Tremblingly I unwrapped the hard little paper ball. Scribbled on it were the words: Make a run for it and phone police. They won’t waste time looking for you. Good luck!

  Philip wanted me to contact the police?

  There was a soft, impatient knock at the door and I hastily flushed the paper away. He didn’t look at me when I emerged. Morgan took my arm and hurried me out of the back door into the wind-tossed garden and round the corner of the house to the car park. The full force of the wind ripped at my jacket and I pulled it close, walking blindly, head down, through the spattering rain.

  “Into the front,” Morgan ordered, opening his car door. “And you in the back, Carol. Philip, get the crate for the pictures, will you? My boot is open.”

  We waited in silence while the transfer was completed, Morgan standing guard outside my door.

  My brain had slipped into over-drive as I turned it to planning my escape. Even if he moved away, it was useless to attempt a break here. They were still very much on their guard, and after my shock with the old ladies, I wasn’t sure even of the Davieses. It would have to be when we reached the castle. Somehow, I’d have to hide till they gave up looking for me and started up the hill, then knock at the cottage for help.

  The two men got in the car and we were off, driving in silence through the wet, windy darkness. Again and again, I went through the scene in Morgan’s bedroom, in case there was anything I’d overlooked. On the principle of trusting no one, he had said.

  But perhaps, I thought suddenly, it was Philip Bryn was unsure of? Perhaps he had tipped the police to stand by tomorrow? Tonight, though, there’d be no one to stop them.

  I didn’t attempt to work out the details, just accepted, thankfully, that Philip and I were somehow at last on the same side, and that he had appealed for my help. It was up to me not to let him down.

  With my back rigid and my eyes on the rhythmic wipers, I sat immobile as the car sped through the night, taking us ever nearer to Cefn Fawr Castle.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Thou sure and firm-set earth,

  Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear

  The very stones prate of my whereabout …’

  Shakespeare: Macbeth

  IT WAS not a night one would choose to be out in. Philip and Carol sat silently behind me; beside me, Morgan’s hands were confident on the wheel.

  “Did you see old Gwilym up at the castle?” he asked suddenly.

  “If it was he who gave us the tickets,” Philip answered.

  “It would have been. He won’t be a problem – he lives a couple of miles away. It’s the people in the cottage we have to watch out for, and they’re not likely to be about on a night like this.”

  “Have they any connection with the castle?” Carol asked.

  “A franchise to sell postcards, but nothing more.”

  I was only half listening. I’d just realised I had no money with me. I shouldn’t need it for a 999 call, but I’d no idea how I’d find my way back to the hotel.

  Click, clack, click, clack. The windscreen wipers moved rhymically and my eyes followed them. Beyond their reach, the blinding raindrops streamed down the glass and a little wall of water built up on the edge of the arc, creeping forward as the wipers swung away, pushed back on the return sweep.

  I wished that Philip was making the run with me, but they didn’t know yet where his loyalties lay and of course he must stay near the paintings.

  On and on the car scuttled, a small black beetle in the vastness of the night. Already the journey seemed endless, as though we were doomed for eternity to climb laboriously up one hill after another until the end of time, the whole world confined in the golden glow of our headlights. Every now and then we sped through the villages where, yesterday, Philip and I had seen children and puppies playing in the dust. Yesterday, in the sunshine, safe with Philip.

  My mouth and throat were parched, painful when I tried to swallow. A little pulse jerked distractingly in my cheek and my hands, clenched on my lap, were sticky with sweat.

  Carol spoke suddenly from the back seat, making me jump.

  “I’m a bit nervous about the aunts, Morgan. Bryn often spoke of them, but I didn’t realise they were so old; can they be trusted not to let something slip?”

  “Don’t worry, they’re not told any details, they just supply information. His ears and eyes, Bryn calls them. They’re invaluable – they look so innocent, yet they don’t miss a thing.

  “Personally,” he added, “I’m more concerned about Harry; I had to grease his palm to pinch Mair’s key and leave the note in Clare’s room. I fed him some cock-and-bull story at the time – I just hope he swallowed it.”

  “And Evan?” I asked. “How much does he know?”

  Morgan glanced at me in surprise. It was the first time I’d spoken since leaving the hotel.

  “Nothing, that I’m aware of, unless Harry said something. Why?”

  “I found him in my room.”

 
; He shrugged dismissively. “Looking for something to pinch, I don’t doubt.”

  Carol said, “So what about our final briefing?”

  “The original plan still holds good: you and Philip retrieve the pictures. The only difference is that Clare and I will be keeping a look-out at the foot of the hill. It should be easy to stay out of sight in this weather.”

  I devoutly hoped he was right.

  “And if anyone does come along,” he added, “they’d only take us for a courting couple.”

  They wouldn’t waste time looking for me, Philip had said. But he was wrong: Morgan would have ample opportunity to search. For the first time, I faced the fact that I mightn’t be able to escape. If I knew where the car would be left I could form some kind of plan, but I dared not ask. Oh God, I prayed desperately, let me get away! Let it be all right!

  Carol lit a cigarette. The match flared in the confined space, lighting the outline of Morgan’s jaw like a turnip-head on Hallowe’en. The sulphur filled my nostrils, titillating them. I wanted to sneeze, but it dried up in the desert of my mouth.

  “Not much farther,” Morgan said after a while. His voice had a jerky, breathless quality, as though anticipation was already quickening his heartbeat. The painful thumping of my own heart threatened to crack my ribs. I was hot in the thick sweater and jacket, but my legs and feet, despite the jeans, were icy, as though I was in the grip of fever. I hoped uneasily that they wouldn’t blame Philip for my escape.

  We turned on to the road leading to the castle, and Morgan asked, “Where did you decide to leave the car?”

  At last! I tensed, waiting for Philip’s reply.

  “It was quite tricky.” I could hear the strain in his voice. “The official park’s too far away, but round the far side there’s a track that extends for about twenty feet before ending in solid rock. You’ll need to take care, though, because it’s very narrow and there’s only about six feet between the rock face on one side and the edge of the cliff on the other. It looked bad enough in daylight.

  “As for getting up to the castle, we’ll have no option but to use the public footpath – quite simply, there’s no other way. We did a thorough recce this morning, without any joy.”

  “But the car’ll be out of sight round the sea side?”

  “That’s right.”

  Difficult, I thought. A dead end, which meant I’d have to double back in the direction they’d all be taking. But when Philip had picked the spot, he hadn’t known I’d be with them.

  “And now, ladies and gentleman” – Morgan’s voice rang with excitement – “on your left, even if you can scarcely see it, Cefn Fawr Castle!”

  My nails ripped into my palms. Now, I thought, now!

  Philip leant forward between us, ready to give directions. We passed the car park, barely discernible through the rain-lashed window, and came to the bumpy grass of the footpath. Ahead of us, swimming through the streaming windscreen, I could see the lights of the cottage windows. What, I wondered, if its occupants happened to look out just now?

  Then, in a series of jerks, we were past and approaching the point at which the path up to the castle began to rise steeply.

  “Here!” Philip instructed. “Turn left and follow the hill round.”

  The car obediently veered off the track, careening wildly over the uneven ground before slowing to take the corner and creeping cautiously forward as close as possible to the rock on our right.

  “Anywhere here,” Philip said, “but watch your tyres. Some of the loose stones are very sharp and the last thing we want is a puncture.”

  Morgan lurched to a stop and switched off his lights. Total darkness swooped down on us and we tacitly waited for our eyes to adjust. Rain continued to lash the windows, now impenetrable with the wipers switched off, and close at hand the sea pounded against the cliffs.

  “Thank God the rolls are wrapped in polythene,” Carol said. “I only wish I was!”

  Morgan swivelled in his seat to face her. “Now, you both know what you have to do. All the rolls at one go – two journeys are out of the question. Then back down here, like bats out of hell. Just dump the rolls in the boot – we’ll stop to pack them when we’re well clear. And remember, the boat leaves at midnight – there’s no time to waste. Any questions?”

  There was silence except for our quick breathing.

  “Right, then, off you go. And good luck!”

  Carol pulled the hood of her anorak over her shining hair, and I did likewise. Then we were all out of the car, gasping as the wind stole our breath. Philip, who, like me, was on the side nearest the sea, caught my hand in a fleeting pressure and moved round the car to join the others.

  Bent double, I took off, running as if my life depended on it – which it might well have done. Wind and sea roared in my ears, drowning any sounds of pursuit. Had they missed me yet? The ground was treacherous and my rubber-soled shoes slithered and slipped, dislodging little stones which rattled deafeningly in my ears.

  Behind me I heard a muffled shout, a low call, then running footsteps. With the breath tearing at my lungs and rain stinging my face, I ran gaspingly, stumblingly, away from them.

  Their obvious course would be for Philip and Carol to go up to the castle while Morgan hung around the cottage in case I tried to get help.

  Thank God my brain was still working! I paused momentarily, swallowing lungfuls of wild stormy air, for I had indeed been heading for the cottage. But the only other prospect of help was the main road – and that was some distance away.

  My hair whipped out from the hood, stinging my eyes, and already there was a burning stitch in my side. What chance of finding a call box in this desolate wilderness? Yet I must contact the police – Philip was depending on me.

  I stopped again, ears straining through the elements for sounds of pursuit. There were none. Perhaps Morgan had circled in front of me; perhaps he was waiting in that darker patch of shadow just ahead. The breath twisted in my throat but I forced myself on. If I started thinking along those lines, I’d be too panic-stricken to move and then he would surely catch me.

  What was certain was that I must give the cottage a wide berth, which meant wasting precious time. Blindly swerving out in a semicircle, unable to see the ground under my feet, I fastened my mind on the road, now several hundred yards ahead and to the right of me. It was essential to reach it before Morgan thought to head me off there.

  Had he a torch? If so, would he dare use it? I had a vision of myself running down a long tunnel of light, while Morgan came after me at his leisure. My legs went weak at the thought.

  I dismissed it and, like a long-distance runner, settled down to pace myself, finding it easier to run with my mouth slightly open, allowing the cool draughts of night air to provide much-needed oxygen. The sound of my ragged breathing was loud above the wind. Once, my foot slipped into a rabbit hole and I stumbled, wrenching my ankle, but after a snatched second to rub it, went on again.

  Where was Morgan now? Was he waiting for me near the cottage, and if so, might he catch a glimpse of me? By now, I was parallel with the car park. Behind me and slightly to my right, Cefn Fawr was a dark mass against a slightly lighter sky. To the left were the slopes where Philip and I had had our painful discussion. I always knew you didn’t give a damn for me … I loved you enough for both of us.

  Tears mingled with the rain on my cheeks and my gasping choked into a sob. If I cried now, I told myself furiously, I wouldn’t be able to breathe at all.

  On and on, heart pumping, muscles screaming with strain. What was happening up the hill? Had Carol and Philip reached the castle? Would they be able to get inside? I imagined Philip toppling in slow motion over the walls into the boiling sea. Or Carol stumbling down the steps in the corridor, and his catching and holding her as he’d held me.

  I had reached the road, and blessedly there was no sign of Morgan. Without a pause I came off the grass on to the more even surface, and ten gruelling minutes later reached the j
unction where we’d turned off.

  I stopped there because I had to, gulping down air and pressing my hands to my burning sides. My heart was racing thunderously, echoed by the pulse in my cheek and the roaring blood in my ears, and it seemed an iron band was pressing against my temples.

  And what, I thought for the first time, do I do now? This wasn’t exactly Piccadilly; in all probability, no one would come along here before morning. A phone-box or filling station, then? Possibly, but I’d no idea in which direction.

  I started to jog again, following the twists and turns of the road. I’d not been along this portion of it, and tried to remember the contours of the map I’d looked at with Philip. We rejoin this road, he had said, and follow it for ten miles or so.

  Ten miles! I staggered to a halt, the ready tears welling again. With my plans only half-formed, I’d been hoping to stop a car on the busier B road leading to the motorway. But it was still ten miles away! To my shaking legs and bursting lungs, it might as well have been a hundred. I glanced uncertainly behind me. Perhaps I should …

  My heart seemed suddenly to explode, then started racing twice as fast. Because behind me, in the distance, I saw some lights. Did they belong to a house – a house with a telephone?

  No, I realised a minute later, they were moving. A car, then. I dismissed a quick flash of fear; not Morgan – there hadn’t been time to bring the pictures down.

  The lights had vanished again, hidden by one of the many bends in the road. Suppose the car turned off somewhere before it reached me? I started to run back like a wounded hare, weaving from side to side, my ribs on fire.

  Oh please, I prayed, my eyes following the fitful flashes which signalled its progress, please come this way! It couldn’t be far away now. Suppose, all in black as I was, the driver didn’t see me on the edge of the road? And there mightn’t be another car tonight – except Morgan’s.

  In a frenzy of panic I tore down my hood, shaking my hair free to give extra visibility, and ran straight out on to the road as the car rounded the last curve barely twenty yards away. I was caught, pinned in the headlamps like a trapped moth. I flung my arms up over my head, bent my knees, and blindly awaited the crash of impact.