Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  ‘And who collected the bodies?’

  ‘Well your colleague arranged it through the NSA system, but then it all got changed.’

  ‘Changed? So are you saying it didn’t happen that way?’

  ‘No sir. The day sergeant received different instructions, so the NSA vehicle was sent back and your people made the collection on Mrs A’s instructions.’

  Monty stared away through thoughtful eyes.

  Angela had obviously decided to draw a line in the sand, and now, in effect, those three people could now be classified as disappeared, and with no bodies there was no autopsy, no evidence and no crime. It was the legacy of presidium power, and Mrs A had it all.

  Sergeant Jenkins barged into the office, but came to an abrupt halt when he saw Monty quietly sitting there, and glancing to Sergeant Lawrence, saw him turn and look away before handing over as quickly as he could, and then the phone rang, but he waved it away and walked over to the door.

  ‘It’s all yours, Jenno, I’ve had enough. So have a nice day.’

  Sergeant Jenkins scowled, ‘Thanks a lot, and fuck you too.’

  Snatching up the phone, Sergeant Jenkins barked angrily into the receiver.

  ‘Hello? And what’s your frigging problem?’

  Watching in quiet amusement, Monty saw Sergeant Jenkins’ angry expression suddenly become a mask of pained embarrassment.

  ‘Oh. Sorry ma’am. I didn’t know it was you.’

  Yanking the phone away from the noise in his ear, he flicked a glance to Monty.

  ‘Yes ma’am. Indeed. Sorry. No ma’am. Well I suppose I must be a fucking arsehole if you say so, but I’ve only just come on duty, so let me check.’

  Flipping through the papers on his desk, he stopped and ran his finger down.

  ‘Did you say, Miss Goodwin, ma’am? Well actually, she left site yesterday evening,’ he turned the page, ‘but she hasn’t come back yet.’

  He looked up, but avoided Monty’s eyes, ‘No ma’am, she didn’t leave alone, she left with Mrs Carthwaite and she hasn’t come back either.’

  As the sergeant replaced the phone, Monty began to wonder if Frank had managed to get one step ahead of Angela, and if he has, this had all the makings of a bad day.

  Suddenly, the door swung open and the guard looked in from the veranda.

  ‘Sarge. Mrs Carthwaite’s back, she drove through a couple of minutes ago.’

  ‘Well thank god for that, and was Miss Goodwin with her?’

  ‘No sarge, she was on her own.’

  The guard looked across to Monty, ‘And your colleague has just arrived, sir.’

  He nodded, and shuffling out, closed the door, but he stood quietly on the veranda and waited until he heard the sergeant talking on the phone.

  ‘Hello ma’am, it’s Sergeant Jenkins. I thought you’d like to know that Mrs Carthwaite has just come back, but Miss Goodwin wasn’t with her.’

  Monty walked down to the car, and as he got in, Frank saw the look on his face.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  He glanced over to the duty driver, ‘Not now, old man.’

  Driving along the avenue they saw a maintenance crew working beside the old fallen tree, but Monty just shrugged his shoulders.

  It was too late to bug it now, they wouldn’t be using it again.

  Arriving at the Manor, they saw Evelyn walking round from the car park, and asking her to wait in reception, Frank carried Monty halfway up the long steps.

  ‘That was Mrs Carthwaite, Dudley’s career freak secretary, and now he’s gone she’s agreed to join Cardinal because I’ve recommended her for the top job.’

  ‘I see. So you’ve been rather busy, one way and another.’

  Frank noticed the disapproving tone in his voice.

  ‘Now look, Frank, I have no problem at all with Anderton or Hillsdown because they were just vile perverts, but why on earth poor old Dudley?’

  ‘Hang on, Monty, don’t jump to conclusions, his death was nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Really? So who was responsible?’

  ‘The other two. Hillsdown arranged it and Anderton hanged him with a curtain rope, and all under the instructions of someone called Glenndenning.’

  ‘I see. Well that would certainly explain it, and wasn’t Glenndenning mentioned in Angela’s file, an advisor to some government department?’

  ‘That’s right, and I reckon he’s the one we want.’

  Bringing him up to date, Frank explained everything that happened yesterday, and when he’d finished, he asked his question again, ‘So what was wrong at the lodge?’

  ‘Well the duty sergeant has just told Angela that Miss Goodwin left with Mrs Carthwaite yesterday evening, but this morning only Mrs Carthwaite returned.

  ‘That’s right. I got Tara out before everything went pear-shaped.’

  ‘I was hoping you would, she’s quite special. So what route did you choose?’

  ‘The safe house, and later we can send her on to Mrs P at Moon Shadow.’

  ‘Good, but can we trust Mrs Carthwaite?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s hooked. So did you find anything interesting in old Thornley’s book?’

  ‘I certainly did, and that poor man had quite a life, but the building of this wonderful old house turned out to be all for nothing in the end, his wife and baby died in childbirth and he committed suicide, so just the three of them lay out there in the churchyard.’

  ‘Did you say, just the three of them are buried out there?’

  ‘That’s right, he had no other family, but why do you ask?’

  ‘Well I’ve been to that churchyard, it’s over there in Cardinal’s buffer zone, and I counted over fifty graves, and when Angela found me there, she went totally ballistic.’

  The two men stared at each other as it all sank in, but it was Monty who said it first.

  ‘Dear god. So that place must be Cardinal’s disappearing ground.’

  From that moment on, they knew there wasn’t a moment to lose.

  ‘Right then, Monty, so what are your plans for today.’

  ‘Well this question of secrets has been the underlying problem since we started, but I couldn’t understand why, and to solve it, makes for a very dangerous game indeed.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  Monty looked away, ‘Not yet, my old friend, not until I’ve proved it.’

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure, but we’d better get moving, so what’s first on the list?’

  ‘Well I must get back into Leonardo, I’ve some unfinished business in there.’

  Frank gave him a wary look, ‘Okay, but don’t take any chances.’

  ‘I know, I am aware of the dangers, but what are your plans?’

  ‘I’d like to see the Minotaur area, if I can find the entrance to the master passage.’

  Monty smiled, ‘Well I know that from the book, and it couldn’t be in a safer place, it’s right inside Leonardo.’

  Driving through the jumble of the disused rail yard, Ted couldn’t help smiling when he saw Sammy relaxing back on the bonnet of his old V8 Rover, and when he brought Frank’s Range Rover to a growling halt, Sammy slid down and tossed his cigar butt away, and strolling over, kicked a rusty old beer can and sent it clattering and bouncing across the dirt and rubble, ‘Hi Ted. That’s some motor, is it for sale?’

  Ted smiled, knowing well enough that Sammy had a passion for V8 cars, and it was himself who’d up-rated the engine in Sammy’s old saloon.

  ‘No, sorry, I’m delivering it to a friend. So, all set?’

  ‘Yeah, I reckon so, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m tooled-up the same as you, so if you’ve got a problem with that, you’d better spit it out.’

  Ted looked him over, and although he hadn’t seen Sammy for well over a year, he hadn’t changed one bit, his handsome swarthy face was just the same while his dark eyes were only matched by the wild mass of jet black unruly hair.

  ‘Well, Sammy, let me put it this way, if it was anyone else
I wouldn’t like it one little bit, but as it’s you, it’s just fine with me.’

  Sammy gave him a lopsided grin, and then his pearl white teeth flashed in the sunlight.

  ‘Right answer, old buddy. Right answer. So where’s my dosh?’

  Taking out a long brown envelope, Ted handed it over.

  ‘It’s all there, count it if you want to.’

  Staring into Ted’s eyes, he weighed the envelope in the palm of his hand.

  ‘There’s no need for that, Ted Willis, I know where you live.’

  Grinning at his joke, he slid the unopened envelope into his back pocket.

  With the agreement settled, they got back into their cars, and driving out through the wasteland of the old rail yard, joined the road that would eventually take them all the way to the Sergeants Tavern.

  Samantha drove her GTi turbo quickly and expertly along through the lanes that led to Angela’s security lodge, and bringing the car to a halt at the gates, looked across and saw the duty gamekeeper talking to a motorcycle courier, and when a package changed hands, he signed the courier’s notebook and the Honda Fire Blade roared away.

  Tapping her fingertips rhythmically and impatiently on the steering wheel, she looked up to the twin stone eagles resting on the massive gate pillars, and they reminded her she was just about to enter Angela’s secluded and remote eerie.

  Glancing down to her diplomatic bag, she wondered who she’d be sleeping with tonight, not that it really mattered when one man or woman was much the same as another, and at the end of the day, they only amounted to the next line on her bank statement.

  It was just a living. Well, it was, if one didn’t think too much about it.

  Checking her car number against his clipboard, the keeper sauntered over.

  ‘Hello. It’s Mrs French, isn’t it, how nice to see you again, and you are expected.’

  ‘Thanks. So open the gates will you, I’m in a hurry.’

  Turning, he waved to the security office and the massive iron gates began to silently swing open, but the gamekeeper was looking down to the courier’s parcel in his hand.

  ‘Oh, Mrs French. Would you do me a favour, and give this to Mrs A.’

  Angela was sorting through her paperwork when she heard tyres rumbling over the old stone bridge, and walking through to the lounge, checked the cabinet for drinks, but then she just stood there quietly, her dark thoughts running ever deeper.

  For although she didn’t know it, the lovely Samantha French had suddenly become pivotal to her plans, and with the correct application of her charms, she might finally trap the thorn in her side, that Austrian bitch, Michaela Rattenegger.

  Parking the car, Samantha dragged out her diplomatic bag, and glancing up, saw Angela just standing there motionless on the path like a frozen angel.

  Taking a deep breath, she waved and walked on up, ‘Hi Angela.’

  Smiling thinly, Angela looked at a woman who could seduce the Devil with her long curvaceous legs that swung her hips in an erotic dance while her breasts were just so full above a waist that was almost too slim to be true, and raven hair that swirled in a dazzling frame around a face so gorgeous she could almost be a mirage.

  And Samantha was also such a perfectionist in her Diplomatic duties, that for years she’d persuaded the rich and powerful, men and women of this world that they were so desperate to fornicate with her they’d divulged their company and government secrets, and through their indiscretions the Forty had made their billions.

  Struggling up through the last few yards, Samantha put the heavy bag down and stood while Angela gave her a distant hug and a noisy pretend kiss on both cheeks.

  ‘Sam, that bag looks heavy, so what have you got in there, the kitchen sink?’

  She laughed, ‘It feels like it, but I wasn’t sure what I’d need, so I brought the lot.’

  Angela smiled, ‘Well done, I knew I could rely on you, ever the professional.’

  ‘Thanks, but I always try my best.’

  ‘Yes indeed. Now come inside and have a drink, it’s too hot out here, so take your bag through to the lounge and I’ll bring the glasses.’

  Sam took the bag through, and then Angela joined her, carrying chilled cut-glass goblets.

  ‘I know it’s early, but let’s be naughty. So what would you like to drink?’

  ‘A gin and tonic would be nice, my silly brain is still on far eastern time.’

  Angela nodded, ‘So what delights have you brought us in your big heavy bag.’

  ‘Oh, just the same old favourites really, with a bit of updating here and there.’

  ‘Yes, it does pay to keep up to date. So what can you offer these days?’

  ‘Well I have various outfits. Nurse, schoolgirl, judge, police woman, traffic warden, space cadet, farm girl, the fairy outfit, pixie, whore, stripper, and of course, all the toys.’

  ‘My goodness, you do keep busy.’

  Samantha half smiled, ‘It keeps me off the streets.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it does. But did you mention a fairy outfit, that’s new isn’t it.’

  She nodded, ‘And it’s quite cute actually, I’ve only recently put it together.’

  ‘And what inspired that?’

  ‘Well do you remember our target in Singapore, the old gentleman who’s influential with Sun Pok Industries? Well just recently on a trip to Paris, he found an interest in fairies.’

  She laughed, ‘The mythological ones, not …’

  Angela smirked, ‘Yes, I see what you mean, but you were saying.’

  ‘Well the old gentleman asked if I could design something appropriate, so I did.’

  ‘Good for you. So how do you use it, this new design?’

  ‘Well basically it’s gossamer, gold dust, wings, headband, a wand, and bare boobs sprinkled with angel dust, in fact the only difference to a fairy is that I wear stockings, suspenders and naughty knickers, but the shoes are similar.’

  ‘The shoes?’

  ‘Yes, I wear ballet shoes for the dance.’

  ‘Oh, I’m intrigued, so what is this dance?’

  ‘Tchaikovsky’s, The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from the Nutcracker Suite, I’ve been practising, but it’s not what you’d call orthodox, it’s a porn version.’

  ‘My god. Well if you’re ever invited to perform at Covent Garden. Don’t …’

  31

  In quiet reflection, Angela thought how it never failed to surprise her that Cardinal’s philosophy, The Three Controls always seemed to hit the target, and just as simply as ABC. Acquisition. Blackmail. Control.

  And now Samantha could make her dreams come true by bedding that ugly old witch, and with the extra enticement of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, she’d think she’d died and gone to heaven.

  ‘Sam. I was just wondering about this little dance, so do you intend to slant the porn both ways, for women as well as men?’

  ‘Yes, that was the intention, to make it multi-functional.’

  ‘Good, I’d like to see it. So have you brought the music with you?’

  ‘It’s on CD if I can use your hi-fi.’

  ‘Of course, but don’t get dressed yet, we need to talk.’

  Mixing fresh drinks, she decided to gradually unravel her proposals and see just how committed to the family, dear Samantha really was.

  ‘Here we are then. Well sit down and make yourself comfortable.’

  Taking the glass, Samantha sat down and wondered what was coming.

  ‘Well as you know, I wanted you here for diplomatic duties, but it’s purely unofficial and must remain that way, understood?’

  ‘Of course. I guessed it might be rather delicate.’

  ‘Good, and if I can rely on you, a long term association might be possible, in fact, if you come on board in the way I want, it would suit my purpose if you became my personal and private, chief executive.’

  Gulping as she tried to swallow, Samantha’s eyes suddenly came wide open.

  Angela smil
ed at her reaction, ‘So would that suit you?’

  She coughed, ‘Well yes … Most definitely … But …’

  ‘But what? Do you have reservations?’

  ‘No, none at all … But if I were to become your chief executive, would my duties be more than just diplomatic?’

  Angela reached to the coffee table, and taking a cigarette, lit it slowly and thoughtfully before lounging back to blow smoke at the ceiling.

  ‘Samantha. Can I trust you?’

  ‘Well yes … Of course!’

  ‘No, Samantha. What I mean, is can I trust you?’

  She frowned, ‘Sorry ma’am, I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘You don’t? Well it’s quite simple. You see, if I only wanted a professional to entertain certain people here at the Bunker, I could have asked for any of my ladies, and any one of them would have done the job perfectly, whether it would be in bed, on top of the wardrobe or swinging by their tits from the chandelier.’

  Confused, Samantha stayed quiet.

  ‘But you see, my requirement is far more than that, in fact, I would require total, unequivocal commitment from you in all its forms, and if you feel even slightly squeamish about that, this conversation will go no further.’

  Samantha reached out to the cigarette box, ‘May I?’

  ‘Please do, after all, I would hate to be the only one to get lung cancer.’

  Lighting the cigarette, Samantha realised that by accepting this offer she would be sailing into an unknown future. But there again, to remain as she was would be condemning herself to another five years of whoring around the world while Tim drank himself half to death and slid into even more depression. And to be free of that would be wonderful.

  ‘Angela. You’ve asked me twice if you can trust me, so do you want a chapter and verse explanation, or would a simple concise answer be sufficient?’

  Angela looked hard into her eyes, and reaching forward, stubbed out the cigarette.

  ‘You can be as economical as you wish, so long as it’s not with the truth.’

  ‘Alright. Well I have no children, I’m not getting any younger, my marriage is a disaster and the only real family I have is Cardinal. So yes, you can trust me.’