by Chris Ryan
Amber slipped it into her pocket. ‘So long as it works.’
‘It’ll work,’ said Hex. ‘Any speaker can be used as a microphone and vice versa. They’re the same components put together in a different way.’
‘And you can pick it up from here?’
‘It’s Bluetooth,’ said Hex. ‘So long as I’m within range I can hear them.’
He went with Amber to the window and looked out. ‘Jeez,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you can make it?’
Amber’s voice was resolute. ‘Li would do it without turning a hair.’
Hex stepped back. His heart was in his mouth as Amber put one leg over the sill, and then the other. She put her hand up to the open window frame, pulled herself up into a standing position and stayed there for a moment, getting her balance. Then she swung back in.
Hex caught her as she landed. ‘Don’t do it,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s too dangerous. We’ll think of something else.’
Amber shook free of his grasp and bent down to her boots. She pulled on the laces furiously. ‘No I just need to take my shoes off. They’re too chunky and I can’t grip.’ She yanked her foot out of one boot and then the other, stripped off her socks and marched back to the window.
Hex felt sick as she eased out onto the window ledge and stood up again, graceful limbs silhouetted against the sky. She looked so fragile. If she fell . . .
Amber gave herself a moment to focus, collect her thoughts. The narrow ledge that led to the laird’s study was about four centimetres wide. Frankly, it didn’t look inviting.
Li had given her instruction in free climbing and Amber had been quite good. Her years of horse-riding, windsurfing and water skiing had developed her balance and she was fit and strong. They had climbed along narrow ledges together – but of course they had been roped and Li had been there to correct her.
She couldn’t think like that. She would have to imagine Li was with her, and they were climbing a slab of rock, not a building.
The stone windowsill was smooth beneath her feet. Actually, it wasn’t too slippery – much less slippery than a slab of rock would have been. Good, she was calmer, noticing details. From that would come concentration. She flexed her toes and spread her arms along the golden stone wall. She checked her technique: hands close, elbows dropped, fingers well into the cracks.
She had started.
The wall was built of large blocks, so the first handhold was easy to find. She slid her foot along the small ledge, then pulled the other one after her. Li’s voice in her head said: Stick your bottom out. The biggest mistake when climbing a slab was to hug the wall and flatten your body against it. Then your feet would slide off. Amber stuck her bottom out. Her weight went down through the balls of her feet and anchored her to the wall.
‘With perfect technique,’ Li had said many times, ‘you can climb on hand- and footholds no wider than a coin.’
Perfect technique. Li had perfect technique but Amber was still learning. When she moved, would she be able to keep the correct stance? She had an overwhelming urge to go back in through window.
But the others were depending on her. She had to go on.
Another of Li’s phrases came back to her: ‘Climbing is like meditation. One hand, then one foot, then the other hand, then the other foot. Small movements. If you make big movements you’ll unbalance and fall. Small movements and you’ll get there.’
Amber found she had started to move towards the laird’s window.
Down below she heard a noise, and someone whistling. She stopped dead still. A figure was walking down the alley below, swinging a black rubbish sack. Amber shrank away, trying not to be seen. Her feet started to slip and she stuck her bottom out again. Her heart rebounded against her ribs like a rubber ball.
Below, the kitchen worker opened the bin, tossed the rubbish bag in and headed back down the alleyway.
Amber took deep breaths. She moved on. She took it slowly, remembering Li’s instructions. It would be so easy to rush, trying to stay out of sight. She kept her eyes on the pale brick, her fingers, sliding each foot one by one and letting it find its place. The rain started again but still she kept her slow rhythm.
At last the fingers of her right hand met the next window frame. Her toes touched the broad stone sill. Nearly there.
She moved her right hand so that her watch face tilted. In it she saw the reflection of the room. No one in there.
Amber grasped the window frame tightly and pulled herself onto the sill. It was so good to have proper handholds at last. The window was open just a crack. Amber slipped her fingers underneath and pushed up. It rose soundlessly. She slipped through and sprang down to the floor.
It was a wood-panelled room with a big stone fireplace. Quite cluttered, unlike the studied, artfully arranged grandeur of the rest of the lodge. This place looked lived in.
Clutter was good. It was easy to hide a bug in clutter. She took the bug out of her pocket. It was about the size of half an egg. She looked around. Now, where was the perfect hiding place?
Something caught her eye. It was a metal object, uncharacteristically industrial against the dark panelling: their metal detector. The gamekeepers must have brought it back. Well, that proved beyond doubt that the laird was involved.
There was a desk of dark wood with a red leather writing surface. She lifted the lid on a cigar box. Too obvious. Next to that was a miniature brass container like a coal scuttle. It held odds and ends – pens, scissors, a paintbrush. A good spot – but would the metal stop it transmitting?
A wickerwork bin stood by the desk. There were papers in it – they would hide it nicely. She knelt down, put the bug inside it and flicked it on.
Then she heard something she didn’t want to hear. Somebody was turning the doorknob.
24
THE INFORMATION
In the conference room next door, Hex heard the Bluetooth headphone spring into life. At first it was a jumble of sounds, like the kind of background noise you get when someone moves about on the phone. But then he began to make sense of it. And his spine went cold.
There were people moving about, feet on a carpet, somebody sitting down heavily in a chair. Voices all talking at once.
He ran to the window and peered out. He expected to see Amber making her way back, but the expanse of wall was empty. The only thing moving was the trees sagging as the rain came down. Amber was still in the room.
He listened for the sickening sound of a capture, but it didn’t come. The group in the room were settling down for a meeting.
He had to focus, pay attention. This was the information Amber was risking her life to get.
‘They’re coming at ten.’
‘But it’s only just getting dark then.’
‘It’s raining. No one will be out walking. You won’t be seen. Anyway, that’s the time they want to come.’
‘Aye. Let’s get it shipped and out. This place has become too dangerous.’
‘We should have got out before.’
A thump, like someone hitting a desk. ‘I told Ivanovich we could deliver and we can. I’m not missing a big order like this and I’m not letting him down – he’s got too many friends.’ Hex wished he could see them. Was that the laird?
Hex picked up Amber’s phone. He knew the others wouldn’t be in range, but just in case something went wrong he texted them. ‘Pickup 10pm. V jumpy B careful. Buyer name Ivanovich.’ He pressed SEND.
The voices carried on. ‘We do the delivery. After that, we destroy it all. Go away. It’s got too hot around here.’
They’d got the information. But where was Amber?
If they knew there was somebody in that room with them, what would they do?
Amber had her eye to the narrow strip of light. She could see figures moving about in the room. The laird was sitting at the big desk, his foot next to the bin where the bug was hidden. Two figures in tweeds paced the room, agitated – the gamekeepers.
She stood stock-still i
nside the cupboard. She hadn’t had time to make it to the window and anyway she couldn’t have got away in time. It was just luck that she’d noticed the panelled area on one end of the fireplace, where the panelling came out further than the chimney breast. It was a cupboard tall enough to stand in, and seemed to go back quite a long way so there was plenty of room. The air inside was stale and cold, the way a room smells if no one has been in it for weeks. A draught turned her wet clothes to ice, the stone floor froze her bare feet.
‘They’re coming to the factory at ten.’
Once the laird had said those words, she knew Hex would be texting the others. But there was something else they needed to know, something only she could see.
There were two more men – not dressed like the gamekeepers. They wore street clothes – dark T-shirts and dark baggy jeans. Amber couldn’t see much of them through the crack but what she did see made her want to steer well clear of them. One was stocky, with broad shoulders, and his head was shaved. The other was bigger and fat, like a bouncer gone to seed. They had rough accents, not like the softer local accent of people who lived around here. One of them walked closer to the laird’s desk to emphasize a point, and the way he moved would scare people in the toughest part of town.
The laird had brought in reinforcements to make sure the job went off without a hitch. Alex, Li and Paulo needed to be warned.
She heard the office door open, then slam. It must have been the gamekeepers leaving, because the heavies were still there and the laird still sat at the desk. He spread out a map and the heavies huddled close. Amber couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was obviously fairly involved. How long would they be? Amber couldn’t wait for long – she had to warn the others.
Still the group huddled over the desk. They weren’t looking in her direction. Could she creep out and escape?
No, she thought. It was far too risky. If they caught her she would be dead.
She felt behind her with her hands. The cupboard seemed to be quite deep – as if . . . She carefully took a step back. Her bare foot met stone. She took another step back. More stone. And another.
She was in a passage.
Amber turned round. Groping with her hands, she began to walk.
Exactly one hour after Alex had spoken to Hex, he arrived at the entrance for the next call. Behind him, Paulo and Li stood shivering. It wasn’t hard to be punctual when there was nothing else you had to do.
Hex’s message bleeped through. Alex turned to the others. ‘They’ve got it. Here, ten o’clock.’
‘Dios,’ breathed Paulo. ‘I thought they’d never manage it.’
Alex quickly dialled Hex. ‘Got it. Can you tip off the police safely?’
‘No problem,’ said Hex.
But Alex caught a note of caution in Hex’s voice. He’d gone quiet, as if he was afraid of being heard.
‘You OK, mate?’
‘Yeah.’ Hex’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘A bunch of guys just went past, that’s all. I’ll call the police now. Somehow, I’m going to have to make them listen to me more seriously this time—’
‘Collect Amber and get out. We’ll see you when it’s all over.’ Alex cut the connection.
Li and Paulo jumped up. They looked animated again, purposeful. Alex felt his spirits rise as adrenaline kicked in. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’
25
BORROWED TIME
Amber found herself at the bottom of a tight spiral staircase. Water dripped down, and high above was a tiny diamond window. She began to climb. Cobwebs brushed against her face. She tried not to think about the spiders who must be hitching a ride in her hair. The steps were gritty and wet under her bare feet. Up and up they went. Where would they come out? They couldn’t have been built just to connect a cupboard in the laird’s office with the roof, could they? One thing was for sure, with all these cobwebs, no one had been this way for a long time.
The triangular steps flattened out to form a small landing. A light showed in a narrow line. Another doorway?
She peered through the crack. An office of some sort, surrounded by shelves. A woman sat at a desk in the middle, a Glaickvullin Lodge name badge on her dark cardigan. Should she come out? What would the woman do? She might call hotel security.
Amber went on up and came to another landing with a wooden door. She listened and made out a voice: ‘Honey, did you hear something?’ American. Male.
There was a reply: ‘Honey, you’re always like this with jet lag. I said you should have stayed up.’ Female. Also American. It was obviously someone’s room.
Amber moved and stepped on a sharp piece of grit. She sucked her breath in through her teeth.
‘What was that?’ The man’s voice sounded panicky. ‘Is this place haunted?’
She seemed to have caught them off guard. If she had to escape through anywhere, a room with two jet-lagged guests was a better bet than a room with a member of staff.
Amber rapped on the panel smartly. ‘Hello?’ She pushed the panel open.
Staring at her was one of the American couples she had seen on the tour earlier. The man wore a navy blue eye mask pushed up on his forehead.
For once Amber was lost for words. She closed the cupboard door behind her and padded across the soft carpet to the double doors at the entrance to the suite.
‘Hey – aren’t you that pop star?’ said the man.
Amber smiled. ‘No, I just look like her.’ She reached the door. ‘Sleep well. Sorry to disturb you.’
Out on the landing she paused to get her bearings. A sign pointed to ROOMS 300–320, so she must be on the third floor. She had grey dust down both arms and her feet were gritty and filthy. Hex must be waiting for her down in the conference centre, but she couldn’t go down there looking like this. Better go to their suite and call from there.
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Paulo. ‘Do you think that will work?’
They were sitting in the tunnel, the plastic drainpipe snaking alongside them. Alex had a stick in his hand and they had been drawing diagrams in the mud as they worked out their plan.
Li nodded. ‘They’re terrified of fire in there. It’s got one exit, it’s enclosed. They could easily suffocate. They sent that guy outside when he wanted a cigarette.’
Alex prodded the plan he had drawn. ‘We start a fire, the smoke brings them out, just in time for the police to see . . . Great, but what are we going to burn? We can’t collect wood. Everything out there is sopping wet.’
Li shrugged her pack off her shoulders and opened it. ‘We must have something in here that’s dry.’ She brought out a gas stove and weighed it in her hand. ‘Too small?’
‘That won’t produce enough smoke,’ said Paulo. He was rummaging in his pack too. ‘Spare socks?’
‘We’re not trying to poison them,’ said Li.
Alex sighed. ‘It’ll have to be the rope. But that will mean we’ve only got one possible exit.’ He looked at the others. ‘What do you think?’
They thought carefully. Li fingered the end of the rope, which was coiled diagonally across her body. ‘I suppose we won’t be needing it again . . .’ Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t a hundred per cent keen on burning a vital piece of equipment.
Paulo put his pack back on. ‘The advantage of using the rope is that we can thread it into the crevice so that the smoke really gets in.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ve got to use it.’
‘OK, agreed,’ said Li. ‘We burn the rope.’
Alex scrubbed out the diagram. He doubted whether anyone would ever find it, but it was standard practice to cover their tracks. ‘Let’s rehearse.’
Hex put the key to the conference room on the marble reception desk and then headed for the stairs. He was worried about Amber. He was going back to their suite and he hoped she’d be there. He put his foot on the bottom step.
A voice made him jump. ‘How did you get in here? Are you dropping off the bikes or something?’ Tiff.
She was coming down
the stairs. Beside her was the woman who had picked her up in the taxi earlier – her parents’ PA. Both were dressed up for dinner.
‘Hi, Tiff,’ Hex had said, and tried to smile.
‘Yeah, hello,’ Tiff mumbled in her usual grudging way, and hurried away, explaining to the woman, ‘He’s one of the people from the hostel.’
The sooner I get out of here, thought Hex, the better. And I hope you choke on a canapé. Anyway, he had more pressing matters. He turned.
Someone was blocking his way. A figure with dark hair, a blue-green kilt, the rough army-style jumper replaced by an evening jacket and frilly shirt. The laird was standing above him on the stairs.
He gave Hex a courteous smile. ‘Good to see you here. Was the hostel suitable for your needs?’ The twang of London’s East End was a reminder of the roughness beneath the smooth exterior.
Hex’s mouth went dry. Was there any way to get away? ‘The hostel was fine, thanks.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Listen, I’m late—’
The laird moved down a step so that he stood closer to Hex. Hex could see the black flecks in the brown eyes. ‘I’m glad I caught you. There’s something I need to ask you about the vehicles. Have you got a moment?’
Hex noticed two people close in behind him. He couldn’t recall having seen them before. One was muscular, with a shaved head. The other was big and fleshy. They closed in and forced him to turn round and go down the stairs again. They herded him through the hall and down the narrow passageway. The laird turned to the other men and fiddled with his cufflinks. ‘If you just carry on, there’s something I have to do.’ He moved away.
Now Hex was alone with the two men.
His phone rang. The bald guy snatched it from Hex’s waistband and his heart started hammering. Who was it?
The man lifted it to his ear, the blue glow of the screen illuminating the side of his head. ‘Who is this?’
Hex kept his face impassive. Inside he was repeating, Hang up now, don’t say anything.
The man took the phone away from his ear and put it in his pocket. Whoever it was had hung up – but at least somebody now knew he was in trouble.