Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

As her gaze came back up the rocky slope, she stopped, and looking carefully, saw the clear figure of a man laying deep in the cleft of an outcrop of jagged rocks.

  He was a large man with brown hair, and laying perfectly still as he watched Polyvotis through army style binoculars.

  Well, well. So why would the honourable Mr Frank Lewis be watching a yacht here at the Isles of Scilly, but more importantly, why would Angela send two assassins against the same target? She would never do that.

  But on the other hand, it was beginning to look as if Lewis had been sent against that yacht, Polyvotis, or rather against the owner, Glenndenning, when she herself had been sent against Rattenegger.

  So hadn’t Angela realised that the huge ugly cow would run straight to Glenndenning?

  Had it slipped through her thinking?

  Well if Lewis did stay here tonight, it would prove that Angela had sent two assassins against two separate targets.

  Taking out the small camera, she moved along until her view of him was much better, and when he looked up, she took a photo of her cruel husband, for Luigi.

  Frank had watched Polyvotis all through the day, and now he knew no mercy would be given, not from himself, or from the crew, because when they came up to smoke cigarettes on the forward deck, their fun was throwing daggers at a makeshift target, and then an ugly, swarthy man joined them, and from his side, took a submachine gun that was held in place by retractable straps, and laughing, pretended to spray the target with ammunition, and having enjoyed his little joke, let the machinegun snap back to his side.

  So these men appeared to know their business, and for Frank, it could only mean that Monty had guessed correctly, and there would be no prisoners.

  Eating the last of the Cornish pasties, he watched the gathering clouds sweep in from the south, but as long as the coming storm didn’t raise the swell of the sea too much, he should be able to swim the short distance to the yacht.

  Later, checking his watch, he saw it was well past five o’clock and the boats would have already taken the tourists back to St Mary’s.

  So he was now left alone with just the residents of the island and the holiday makers staying at the hotel, so apart from the occasional walker, he should be left in peace.

  Settling down, he waited for the sun to begin its slow decent to the horizon, and under the cover of the lengthening shadows, checked his kit in detail.

  Scanning through the binoculars, he saw an older, grey-haired man come out on deck, and lighting a cigar, leant on the rail and looked up to the gathering clouds, and he looked ridiculous in huge Bermuda shorts, and a shirt so garish, it could be seen from the moon.

  Lucinda had taken the first boat back to St Mary’s, but there was no sign of Lewis, and having taken the film to be developed, she returned to the quay and watched the other two boats arrive, but each time, one person had not bothered to make the trip.

  Strolling into town, she bought a gin and tonic at the bar of the Atlantic Inn, and sitting quietly outside on the terrace, thought things through, for there was no point in making plans for her target until she was sure of Lewis’ intentions, and she wouldn’t know that until the morning.

  With Rattenegger settled, she decided to have one more night with the passionate Luigi, and if he did as she wanted, she might even consider taking him home.

  It was a curiously exciting thought, because when her business here was finished, she could arrange for him to come back to the mainland and live with her at the farm, and she could do it all in secret as she was working under her favourite alias of Daniella Coogan and there would be no record of her anywhere.

  She smiled, why even her credit cards were paid by a secret National Security account, and the only way to access that, was through the Minotaur.

  Oh Angela, it’s true you can be a first class bitch when you want, but it has to be said that you and your organisation has this country tied up in knots.

  But having thought of her, all the alarm bells started ringing, and if she found out she’d brought Luigi back to the farm, she would probably go ballistic.

  Oh god, she might even throw another of those insane tantrums.

  But why shouldn’t she have some fun, she worked hard enough, and any other woman in her situation would simply put the boy down on her expenses as entertainment.

  So bollocks to Angela, she would take him home and keep him at the farm.

  But, oh shit, what if he wanted to go back to Italy and see his family?

  Jesus. If he talked it could unravel everything … So if he did want to go back home, she would have a garden sculpture made of him, and he could live in the priest hole.

  4 9

  For Angela, choosing Mandy as her new PA had been inspirational, for although Fiona would have been her first choice, she was married with children, whereas Mandy was long since divorced and would happily sleep with the Devil if it meant promotion, so living and sleeping with the boss didn’t seem to phase her at all.

  The red phone rang in the study, and snatching it up, heard the excited voice of Louise.

  ‘Ma’am? It’s me, Louise. I’ve been trying to reach you.’

  Angela groaned, ‘Oh god, not more trouble.’

  ‘No ma’am, in fact I’ve found the answer to the puzzle.’

  ‘And what particular puzzle is that? I seem to have enough to write a bloody book.’

  Louise took a deep breath, ‘Well, you remember I tried to access Rattenegger’s file, but each time the Minotaur blocked it by saying, See the Titan of Nissoros.’

  ‘Well of course I do, you don’t have to remind me.’

  ‘But ma’am, I’ve found his name. I’ve found the name of the Titan.’

  Angela stared blankly at the wall, and just knew something big was coming.

  ‘Well go on then, so what the hell is it?’

  ‘Polyvotis. The name of the Titan of Nissoros, is Polyvotis.’

  Angela suddenly felt a huge, cold shudder rippling through her when she realised what it was that had been bothering her ever since she’d sent Frank off on his travels.

  Oh my dear god … How could she have been so stupid …

  That yacht was the link to everything, but she hadn’t seen it because of Sir Henry.

  Polyvotis was the link between Rattenegger and Glenndenning, and she’d told Lucinda, Glenndenning was Rattenegger’s only known associate, and she’d been to Polyvotis to deliver the Goodwin tart to Glenndenning, and later, she’d told Frank that the only clue to Glenndenning’s whereabouts, was Polyvotis at Hamble Marina.

  So Frank and the hideously insane Lucinda, were now on a direct collision course.

  As the shadows crept ever closer across the rocky slope, Frank took one more look at the deck of Polyvotis, but it was deserted now, with no sign of any activity, so he guessed the people on board were preparing for their evening meal.

  Taking his kit from the inflatable bag, he made use of the last hours of twilight, but as he prepared for what was to come, his darker thoughts began to creep back in.

  So why was he doing this?

  Was he just following orders, or was it vengeance for Tara?

  Could it be that simple?

  Or was it for that something in the file that had scared Monty half to death.

  Or maybe, Antoinette, the woman of his dreams, safely hidden away at Moon Shadow.

  But in the end, did any of those questions give the right answer?

  Looking blankly out to sea, he knew that although each of those questions had their own importance, nothing in his life mattered because he didn’t know where she was resting, and couldn’t even bring flowers to her grave.

  Sitting there, he knew the real reason for doing this, was to please Angela, and by doing so, he might find a way of using the Minotaur to discover the truth about Moira Lewis, because she was his past, his now, and his forever, and without her, he was nothing.

  So the truth was finally there, but would it satisfy the small god of indifference
?

  When Lucinda at last returned to her room, it was already well past seven o’clock, and she’d hardly closed the door when that familiar, urgent tapping made her smile.

  ‘Come in.’

  Stepping inside, Luigi looked worried, ‘You late. Your ‘usband, he …’

  ‘No. It’s alright.’

  ‘So, okay? No hurt, you?’

  She smiled at his concern, ‘No. No trouble. Don’t worry.’

  He relaxed, and smiling, stepped forward, ‘Then, make amore?’

  ‘Hey, steady on, my fine young stallion, I’ve only just got in, I need a shower.’

  ‘Si. Amore. Shower. Yes?’

  She looked into his dark, urgent eyes, ‘Oh boy. What on earth have I started?’

  Cuddling in bed, it seemed to take forever to explain that she might be going home soon, and when he finally understood, his pained expression was almost unbearable, until at last she made him understand, that if her husband was gone, she’d send him a ticket for the helicopter, but he must tell no-one, and meeting on the main-land, would take him home.

  ‘To your ‘ouse? No ‘usband?’

  ‘No. No husband. Only you. Would you like that?’

  He sat up, his body hard and excited, ‘Si. I like much.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled then. So let’s see what tomorrow brings.’

  He frowned, ‘What tomorrow brings?’

  ‘Hush now, you ask so many questions.’

  ‘Si. I like understood.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll understand soon enough.’

  ‘What this, I understood?’

  ‘Oh for goodness sake. Now look, tomorrow I’ll give you a photo of my husband.’

  He stared down to her, ‘Photo, of ‘usband? Si, is good. I find ‘im.’

  Frank waited until the features of the rocky slope were lost in the gloomy darkness, and dressing in the wetsuit and rubber helmet, carefully packed the alarm clock inside the inflatable bag, and taking the flippers and mask, made his way down to the shore.

  It was eleven o’clock when he stepped into the water, and putting on the flippers, rinsed out the facemask, and inflating the bag, fitted the snorkel and swam away to Polyvotis.

  The current was quite strong, but minute by minute he left the shoreline behind, and glancing through the spray, saw the dark muddy clouds were rolling in much faster, so the squall might keep the crew snug and warm below decks.

  Kicking out, he let the current carry him towards the huge bulk of the yacht, and when she came beam-on, he turned and drifted towards her, and with a push from the flippers, wrapped himself around one of the twin anchor chains held at the prow.

  Keeping still, he listened, but there was no sound except for the waves slapping against the hull, and looking up, saw the chain had been brought into a tight line as Polyvotis was pushed back by the current.

  He guessed there was about fifty feet of chain to climb before it disappeared through the side of the hull, and another twelve to get over the side and drop down onto the deck.

  Keeping the chain between his legs, he slipped off the mask, snorkel and flippers and secured them to the bag with the Velcro straps, and fitting it across his back, began the long climb up the cold slippery chain.

  Reaching the top, he gripped the mouldings and edged along the prow until he could look over the side, and dropping down, crouched low and looked through the gloom, but there was no movement except for the rigging as it strained and tugged in the wind, and easing the bag from his shoulders, he took out the catapult and ammunition.

  Moving along the length of the massive yacht, it seemed hard to imagine how the deck might have looked in its working days as it was now fitted out purely for fun and leisure, with colourful sun beds, a swimming pool and areas for games, but strangely, over to one side lay a huge inflatable bed.

  He was halfway along the enormous deck when a hatch suddenly flew open and out staggered four men all laughing and drinking from bottles.

  They were smartly dressed, and from the style of their clothes it was obvious they were no strangers to high class living and jetting all over the world.

  Standing back in the shadows, he watched them, their excited jabbering making him wonder if they were celebrating, and for some reason, they were laughing and pointing to the gathering squall, and then two scruffy servants emerged from the hatch carrying large oval trays of food and drink, but as soon as they set them down, they were ordered away again by much drunken shouting and arm waving.

  Going down on one knee, he placed a ball bearing into the chamois pouch and took hold of the catapult, but the men had tottered over to the huge inflatable bed, and then the hatch crashed open again, and when the two servants came back on deck, they were dragging something behind them.

  It looked like a dirty old sack, and through the eerie moaning of the wind, thought he heard noises, strange noises, noises coming from that old sack, but it didn’t seem real.

  All he could hear, was, ‘ease …’

  The sack was dragged, heaved and bumped over to the bed, the men laughing as the two scruffy servants lifted it up to tumble out the contents onto the deck.

  ‘Oh no … Please … Not again … Oh, pretty please.’

  Frank became frozen in shock. This couldn’t be. It was crazy… Impossible.

  Tara was with Ted in Malmesbury … Or damned well should be.

  Through the chaos, he saw the four smartly dressed men shouting at the servants to go away, then grabbing Tara by her wrists and ankles, lifted her up and placed her tiny naked body, kneeling on the bed, and before he could even think, two of them were at her, one pushing into her mouth while the other laughed as he mounted her, and as the two men took their pleasure, the other two strolled away to the prow to smoke and drink as they pointed into the howling wind.

  Taking aim, Frank drew the catapult to its limit and fired at the man who was thrusting into Tara’s mouth, the ball bearing suddenly hitting him in the head, but through the wind there was not a sound as he fell motionless to the bed.

  The other man stopped and stared at him - surprise giving way to laughter as he made crude insulting motions with his hand, but Frank was already taking aim with the second ball bearing, and even as the man doubled up laughing in his mindless drunken stupor, the ball bearing was released, and in the next second it hit him straight between the eyes.

  Jerking up, he fell over backwards, a torrent of blood gushing from the hole in his head, but Tara had knelt up straight, and seeing the blood, cried out and fell down in a faint.

  Looking along the deck, he saw the other two men were still up at the prow, and moving quickly, reached the bed, and stripping the jacket from the first man, dressed Tara.

  Dragging the two men, he let them slide down between the edge of the bed and the hull, and lifting Tara, carried her away through the shadows, but when he stopped to collect the catapult and ammunition, he saw the other two men were now weaving and tottering back along the deck, and seeing the bed was deserted, called out.

  ‘Ali. Sanchez … Where you are?’

  ‘Sanchez, you mother fucker, we want the girl.’

  Shrugging their shoulders they began wandering around the deck.

  ‘Tara. Bitch woman. We want fucky-fucky. Where you are?’

  Frank took aim.

  ‘We want jigajig. Bring your fat pussy. We want fuck you.’

  The nearest man leant back, and opening his mouth wide, shouted out angrily.

  ‘Tara …’

  The ball bearing entered his mouth, went through his brain and came out through the back of his head in a shower of blood and skull fragments.

  Wandering back, the other man called out, ‘Tara. Where you are?’

  Reloading, Frank took aim and fired, but the man slipped in the brain splatter, and when he fell over the corpse, the ball bearing disappeared harmlessly out to sea.

  Stumbling to his feet, the man looked down to the body, and when he realised his hands and clot
hes were covered in the blood and slime from the dead man, he backed away, and turning, ran falling and stumbling to the hatch.

  But Frank had already reloaded, and taking aim, fired at full power, and although the man was now over twenty paces away, the ball bearing shattered the back of his head.

  Sliding the two men down beside the others, he scooped Tara up and made his way to the stern, but there seemed no place to hide her - but on reaching the engine room hatch, he saw a fibreglass lifeboat hanging by its ropes in a large curved gantry, and unfolding the cover, settled Tara inside.

  Lifting the engine room hatch, he climbed down the companionway, and it was three levels before he reached the bottom, and pushing a door open, flicked on the light and saw two huge engines.

  Walking along the gantry, he saw the empty spaces where the carburettors should be, and to one side, the fuel pipes the engine man had plugged and tied back out of the way.

  Following the pipes, he found two pumps that were connected through the bulkhead to a massive fuel tank on the other side, and the gauge on the tank was reading, FULL.

  Going back to the engine room, he followed the electrical cables from the pumps and found twin switches mounted high on the bulkhead, and unplugging the fuel lines, flicked on the switches and stood back in surprise when fuel was pumped out in a torrent, and not only soaking the engine bay, but already pouring down through the grid of the gantry and running all along the bilges.

  Switching off the pumps, he slipped the bag from his shoulders and took out the alarm, and having set the time for detonation, wound the spring and placed the clock on a low shelf, and re-starting the pumps, got out of there fast.

  Climbing back up through the levels, he noticed a slight roll to the yacht, and stepping out on deck, felt the strengthening wind, and then, through the slapping and tugging of the rigging he heard a man’s drunken voice.

  ‘Tara. Pussy woman. Come, it crew time. We fuck you now.’

  Checking the lifeboat, he found Tara awake but huddled like a quivering ball of jelly, staring terrified into the darkness as she listened to the shouts of the drunken man.