Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  Monty nodded, ‘Fair comment. So is Mrs Carthwaite a lesbian?’

  Frank saw her sag a little, her eyes now worried as she slowly shook her head.

  ‘No, not that I’m aware of. Well, not in the true sense of the word, we just …’

  Monty looked her in the eye for a long time, his gaze unwavering as he stared at her.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, is Mrs Carthwaite having an affair with anyone here at Thornley?’

  Tara stood quite still as Monty watched her closely, his snake eyes holding her fast.

  ‘You do realise, Miss Goodwin, I must have the absolute and unequivocal truth.’

  Tara stood rigid, her fists clenched while a sheen of perspiration appeared on her brow.

  ‘I. I have … That is, we sleep together occasionally. She and I.’

  Tara flashed a look between the two men, her composure now ragged but still defiant, and as a silence fell between them, Monty softly placed his hands together, as if praying.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, would you consider yourself to be bi-sexual?’

  Her eyes shone brightly under the barrage of questions, and knew there was no escape.

  ‘I suppose so. No … Oh, I don’t understand … I just like her, she’s kind …’

  ‘I see, and I really am sorry to pursue this further, but would you consider yourself to be highly sexually active, and with many and various partners?’

  The boiling cauldron inside her was now brimming over with despair and humiliation, and when she spoke, her voice was trembling, and crying out from her heart.

  ‘Mr Montague, I am not responsible for that. I have to do as I’m told, you know it, and if the game calls for me to … I have no choice.’

  Frank and Monty stared at each other. Had they heard correctly?

  ‘Miss Goodwin. Forgive me, but I must ask you this. So do you have relationships as part of your MI5 duties, under instruction?’

  Tara panted as she looked at the floor, her tiny body quivering at the hideous questions.

  ‘You make me sound bad, but you know very well I have to do what is necessary.’

  Monty looked sadly to Frank as all of his doubts and fears were coming true.

  ‘And was it necessary for you to have sex with Mrs Carthwaite?’

  ‘No … We just ... we like each other ... that’s all ... she’s very kind, she helps me when I cry ... we don’t do anything nasty ... we just cuddle and talk.’

  ‘Yes, I do understand, and I wish I didn’t have to ask, but was it necessary for you to have a relationship with Mr Sheverill and Mr Bromsgrove, because as both of these men are now dead it could be considered sinister, and especially as it was Mr Bromsgrove who recommended you for this position.’

  Tara stood back on her heels as the shock of their knowledge took her breath away.

  The private apartments were surveillance free zones, or were supposed to be.

  So how did they know about the sex?

  Oh God. Did they watch with a camera? Oh please, no …

  Monty glanced uneasily to Frank, the killer blow having to be delivered.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, the truth is, Sir Freddie Bromsgrove was your uncle, wasn’t he?

  So why did MI5 think it necessary for you to have a relationship with him?’

  Tara stood numb in front of the two men, ‘But it wasn’t them …’

  Monty looked puzzled, ‘Pardon ..? Did you say it wasn’t them, not MI5?’

  ‘No …’

  ‘Then who was it?’

  She stood rigid, tears brimming over, her mind recoiling at all the hideous memories.

  ‘Who was it, Miss Goodwin? Who gave you the instructions?’

  When Tara began to cry, Frank stepped forward to stop it, but she shouted out, loudly.

  ‘ … Stacey … It was Stacey … It was always Stacey …’

  Tara’s revelation caused Monty to question everything he’d been told about her.

  When she’d cried out that name, he’d remembered it from her file, and checking back, there it was.

  Jennifer Stacey. Housekeeper to Sir Freddie Bromsgrove.

  It was yet another mystery and he desperately wanted to unravel it, but he’d gone far enough for now, and there was no point in pushing her over the edge.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, I am truly sorry to have distressed you in such a fashion, really I am, but now we must see Mr Dudley, so would you be kind enough to take us through.’

  Tara, as so many times before, switched off that part of her mind that shouldn’t be there. Taking a deep breath, she transformed herself into Tara Goodwin, Head of Security, Station X, Thornley Manor, and taking them along to the security annexe, began their indoctrination.

  Her appraisal of Thornley Manor was nothing if not complete, and while they listened, they realised that Station X, Thornley Manor had just about every security feature possible, from a no-fly zone, armed guards with dogs, heat sensors, low voltage perimeter wire, buffer zone, outer wire with armed guards, infra-red sensors, cctv, and Merlin.

  Merlin was a dual-line arrangement of twin computers known locally as Jack and Jill, and once through security they automatically controlled everything, and nothing was left to human fallibility.

  So Merlin controlled the temperature, humidity, the lighting, body-heat sensors, sprinklers, cameras, voice activated recordings and the time clocks, then the smoke and fire control, the computer defence systems, the departmental access, and the internal and external security liaison, and last, but not least, all the doors.

  There were simply hundreds of security doors, and for access to every single department Merlin required an ongoing record of a press pad for Jack and a swipe card for Jill, and having referred to each other in milliseconds, they cross checked the authentication of the bearer before issuing an authority to enter, and if an authority was ever denied, a complete security shutdown was possible, and so, best avoided.

  Satisfied that they knew enough about the workings of the house so as not to activate an automatic SAS response, she ushered them through the main gate area and demonstrated the press and swipe technique.

  First press the pad onto the plate, then swipe the card through the lock within three seconds, and all the while, the CCTV recorded their every movement.

  Waiting for Tara to swipe through, Frank glanced across to Monty, and seeing his expression, knew he was thinking the same.

  The shadowy authorities governing this place would not be happy for either of them to take this knowledge away from here.

  Ambrose Dudley’s office was on the top floor, but when they stepped out of the lift, instead of finding more of that old world grandeur, all Frank could see was a small semi-circular room with a worn and grubby carpet, and directly opposite was a reinforced door built into the wood panelling which he assumed would lead onto the top floor, but as Tara explained, there was not one door, but two, and not only separated by a high security chamber, but both had double locks.

  Walking over, she waited while Frank gently pushed Monty in the chair.

  ‘Gentlemen, these doors are known as the lovers’ doors. Come, I’ll show you.’

  Telling Frank to stand close behind her, she bent over to the lower set of locks and showed him how to synchronise the rhythm of double swiping and pressing, one behind the other, and turning, looked up to him.

  ‘No-one can access these doors without one of us who carry the master cards, so if you’re ready, shall we try it and go through?’

  He nodded, and in the confined space, followed her pad and swipe movements, and then came a double thump as twin electronic bolts shot back into the hardened steel of the door frame, and as they unravelled from each other, Tara looked down.

  ‘As I said, for some reason, the people here call these the lovers’ doors.’

  Frank saw the look in her eyes and stayed silent as she gestured for him to go through.

  ‘If you step inside, I’ll close the door and bring Mr Montague through.’

  He frowned, ‘Bu
t the door’s open, so why can’t we all go through together?’

  A look of puzzlement spread over her face, ‘But Mr Lewis, I did say Merlin requires an uninterrupted check of all card movements, so if we brought Mr Montague through on our swipe, Merlin would think him missing and we’d have a shutdown.’

  ‘A shutdown?’

  She nodded, ‘Merlin would automatically security lock every single door, and then every room in the manor house would have to be opened by master card and checked by security. It happened once and it took absolutely hours to clear, so please, don’t even think about it.’

  Shutting the heavy door, she locked him in, and when Frank heard the bolts thudding into place it became obvious this chamber wasn’t just for the security of Mr Dudley's office. Looking around, he saw a small carpeted room with a tiny black camera gazing down relentlessly.

  The solid thump of the bolts came once again, and when Tara brought Monty through, he realised the whole procedure had to be repeated on the second door, and now he was no longer surprised that whatever had been tampered with, was causing an ever-growing pile of dead bodies.

  He looked down to Monty as he sat quietly in the wheelchair, and then across to Tara.

  ‘Well I wouldn’t want to be trapped in this place, not if it went up in flames.’

  Tara suddenly became rigid as a hideous memory suddenly flooded back into her mind.

  ‘Oh ... don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.’

  Monty looked up sharply, the tone of her voice telling him it meant something to her.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry, dear lady, I must have seen about half a million sprinklers so far, not to mention there are fire extinguishers at every twenty paces.’

  At the second door, Frank said Monty could go through first, and she wondered why, unless he wanted to be alone with her, just like the rest of them, but Frank was trying to figure out a way of helping her, and if he didn’t move fast, it might be too late.

  Taking Monty through, she stepped back inside, the door closing with a thump.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, I’ve been thinking of what you said, you know, out on the balcony, and I reckon it might be best if we came to an understanding.’

  Tara shuddered as she remembered telling them of her personal obligations.

  ‘You see, I’m not quite sure if you fully understand just how serious this is for you, but if we could get together, alone, I might be able to help. If you’re agreeable.’

  Tara fumbled with her swipe-card, and knew there was no choice, ‘Oh, alright.’

  He smiled, ‘Good, then let’s get together somewhere private as soon as Monty leaves, and it shouldn’t be long, he’s pretty exhausted already. So where would be best?’

  She looked down to the faded carpet, ‘Well it’s usually in my apartment.’

  Swiping through, she closed her mind to what was going to happen with this man.

  It was just so horribly inevitable, as it was with all the others. Stepping out, she shivered when she saw the older man reading through her personal notes again.

  12

  Frank followed Tara out of the chamber, but suddenly stopped dead.

  This floor was not only different to the rest of the house, it was totally unlike anything he’d ever seen before, or even could possibly have imagined.

  He was standing in the centre of a huge, oak panelled, circular room, and built into the walls were open doorways leading myriads of tunnels away into a honeycomb of passages, all disappearing into a chaotic labyrinth forming an unending maze of oak panelled tunnels and corridors all finally disappearing into the depths.

  Looking around he saw they intersected, crisscrossed and were lost from view around bends or up through levels by short and sometimes twisting staircases, and all the passages and tunnels had doors.

  There were hundreds of doors in the walls of the passages, but where did they all lead? Into rooms? Galleries? Or maybe into yet more tunnels. It was simply fantastic.

  He noticed people appearing in the golden glow of the depths, and coming into view, vanished again like flitting ghosts travelling silently through the mysterious levels.

  It was like looking at a nonsense, and yet simply incredible.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, this is amazing, I could get lost in two minutes.’

  ‘Yes, it is overwhelming when one sees it for the first time.’

  Frank smiled, ‘Overwhelming isn’t the word, but what is it for?’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t for anything really, or rather, it wasn’t intended to be anything serious. You see, this is old Thornley’s joke, and not only did he build the grandest manor house in the country, but when he built his Folly, his structure of pure and useless decoration, he decided not to build it in the grounds like everyone else, but inside the house.’

  Frank laughed, ‘The crazy man, but have you got a map, I think I’ll need one.’

  ‘No, but there’s no need, I’ve had a year to explore so I know it pretty well by now, so let me check you in at security and I’ll show you the way to Mr Dudley.’

  Leading them over to security, she signed them in, and looking around, Frank saw a triple row of monitors facing a large desk, then a comfortable old chair, a microwave cooker, coffee machine, and piled on the desk, a stack of colour magazines, the one on top, called Tits and Bums Monthly.

  With the paperwork finished, Frank pushed Monty in the chair as he followed Tara along an oak panelled tunnel, and as she led them through the many twists and turns, incredible portions of the enormous area were gradually revealed in the golden light.

  They listened in amazement as Tara explained the Folly covered the entire area of the top floor, and it was an engineering feat of incredible ingenuity, an amazing complex of corridors, passages, staircases and galleries, and all crafted from the finest polished oak.

  Old gas lamps, long since redundant, now showed a dull electric light which gave the oak caverns a shadowy appearance in a sheen of warm spun gold, and rich oil paintings of voluptuous naked women hung everywhere, interspersed with old erotic drawings holding all the description of the most pure and outrageous pornography.

  Frank was surprised, because although the drawings were fabulous creations of art and the paintings were rich of colour and design, they were still extreme displays of wanton sexual indulgence, and it seemed incongruous that old Thornley should have mixed his incredible creative beauty side by side with this display of depraved and outrageous bestiality.

  Letting the imponderable thoughts slip away, he noticed that when stepping on the thickly piled carpets they gave an old musty fragrance, and by trapping every sound, let the travellers of the labyrinth move silently through the mysterious golden light.

  Stopping abruptly, Tara pointed out the door to Mrs Carthwaite’s office, then Merlin’s sanctum, and across the passage, a dark but highly polished oak door, and in the soft yellow light, Frank read the inscription in the brass of the nameplate.

  Ambrose Dudley. Head of Station. Thornley Manor.

  Looking around, Frank gazed past her into the gloomy old passage and thought he recognised something that brought back old memories, and staring harder into the gloom, realised he was looking at a solid barrier constructed entirely from tiles.

  He glanced down to Monty, but he was concentrating and turning the pages of the folder.

  ‘Miss Goodwin, it says here that the computer room has a staff of forty two and they all work on a continuous, interlocking shift rotation, so can that be correct?’

  A quizzical look came to her, ‘Yes. Is there a problem?’

  ‘Oh no, not at all, it’s just so very interesting.’

  She studied him carefully but saw no expression, and turning back to Frank, saw he was looking intently along the gloomy passage to the barrier of tiles, and now there was a question in his eyes.

  Nodding thoughtfully, she gestured along the passage into the golden semi darkness.

  ‘Mr Lewis, as you may have guessed, we have now arrived at the
jewel in the crown, so may I introduce you to Leonardo da Vinci.’

  Frank stared along the gloomy passage, he’d seen heat proof tiles and blast doors before, and now wanted to know what was hidden behind them.

  ‘Well, Monty, what’s it to be, Dudley first, and then take a look at Leonardo?’

  Monty wiped the sweat from his face and looked down to the grubby handkerchief.

  ‘I’m not sure, and to be honest, I’m not feeling well.’

  In the golden light, Frank saw his once sparkling blue eyes now looked faded and moist.

  ‘Right then, well that’s it. We’ll call it off for today and start fresh tomorrow.’

  Monty sat forward, ‘No, that won’t do, that won’t do at all.’

  With an effort he raised his arm and pointed into the shadows of the corridor.

  ‘You see, Miss Goodwin’s excellent folder has changed everything, and it’s vital I see inside that room, but I’m afraid Mr Dudley will have to wait.’

  Frank shrugged, ‘Fair enough.’

  He turned to Tara, ‘Get us inside, would you.’

  Nodding, she walked up to the barrier of tiles and gestured for them to follow.

  ‘Gentlemen, as you can see, there are no locks, or at least, no locks are visible.’

  Turning to the panelled wall, she steadied a picture of pure erotica before swiping her master card along a thin groove in the top of the frame, and as if by magic, a piece of wood panelling slid down to reveal a computer keyboard and screen. Glancing to Monty’s chair, she asked Frank to bring him in closer.

  ‘I must now action the security screen, so please, do not move back.’

  Switching on the computer, she tapped in a series of codes, and when Frank heard a swishing noise behind him, turned to see an opaque, inch thick glass partition slide down, and then the light grew brighter.

  ‘And now I need your internal security CDs, if you please.’

  Handing over their personally formatted CDs, she entered them into the drive, and having entered her own, turned to face the two men.

  ‘Now we wait, and hopefully, Merlin will be happy with us.’