Threat

by Hugh Fraser

  I close my eyes, lean my head on the wall behind, and try to lose the image of that poor girl.

  I’m looking back and wondering if she’d have been better off taking her chances in London and whether I did wrong by getting her away, but then I tell myself that I only did what I thought was best at the time and that’s all you can ever do. There’s a rustling sound near me, something skitters across the floor and then it goes quiet again. I relax and let the silence wrap itself round me. Just as I’m drifting off I hear the sound of footsteps outside in the corridor. I get up and kneel behind the camera.

  The door opens, the lights go on, and the butler comes in carrying a bag and a feather duster. He puts the bag down, approaches Julie and flicks the duster over her. He opens the bag, takes out what looks like a postcard, stands back, looks at the card, then at Julie, and adjusts the hair round her face and then lower down, where she’s holding it in front of herself. He stands back and has another look, then he opens the bag and takes out a hair dryer and an extension lead. He plugs the lead into a socket on the wall, turns on the hair dryer and wafts it up and down her body. I look through the viewfinder and see Symmonds go to the wall, unplug the hairdryer and put it in the bag. He switches on the projector, has another look at the postcard, adjusts the dial on the front of the projector and puts the postcard in his pocket, then he turns to a telephone on the wall, picks up the receiver, gives a handle on the side a couple of turns, and waits a moment.

  ‘The Botticelli is ready, My Lord.’

  He puts the receiver back, picks up the bag and the feather duster, opens the door and closes it behind him. Moments later, I hear a rustling in the silence and I see a rat scampering towards Julie. It stops in front of the shell, gets up on its back legs and puts its front paws on the edge. It’s twitching its nose about and sniffing the air when a thud from above makes it freeze and then scoot off into a corner.

  There’s a shuffling sound in the corridor, then the door opens slowly and the Marquess, wearing a red silk dressing gown and slippers, comes in and stands looking at the scene in front of him. He smiles, shuts the door behind him and pads towards Julie, mouthing something that I can’t hear. He kneels down in front of her and starts wringing his hands as if he’s begging her for something, then he leans forward, grips the rim of the shell and starts licking her feet. He licks his way up to her ankles, then her knees and her thighs. When he gets to where she’s covering herself with her hair, he pulls back and has a long conversation with her, that involves a lot of hand wringing and nodding, then he takes hold of her wrists, pulls her hands and the hair away and pushes his face in between her legs.

  I take a picture at the crucial moment of entry, and while he’s burrowing in there like a truffle pig I open the flap and take the photo out. I look at it and see that it’s only a silhouette and his face is hidden anyway. I need a shot that identifies him and I need to get closer. I pocket the photo, look up and see that he’s now standing in the shell with her, fondling her tits and licking her neck. I get a shot of him as he kisses her on the lips, take it out and see that he’s better lit and you can see his face. After a bit more snogging, that I have to turn away from, he steps out of the shell, goes to the door and knocks on it. Moments later Symmonds opens it and comes in. The Marquess raises a finger towards Julie and Symmonds walks round behind her, unfastens the line from the ceiling, that’s holding her up, and carries her to a chaise longue that’s against the wall, close to where I’m hidden. He lays her down on the chaise longue, turns on the light and goes to the record player next to the projector. He cranks the handle on the side, lowers the arm onto the turntable and a string orchestra strikes up a waltz. Symmonds looks to the Marquess, who gives him a nod, and then leaves.

  The Marquess approaches Julie and stands in front of her. He makes a low bow, bends down, puts an arm round her waist, lifts her up and holds her against him. As her head rolls back, he puts a hand on the back of her neck, lifts her head and leans it on his shoulder. He takes her hand in his, tightens his grip on her waist, and waltzes her round the room with his head resting against hers and a dreamy smile on his face. As they come past the edge of the packing cases I click the shutter and hope for the best. They circle the room a few times, and I take out the photo. As I look at it and see that it’s just a blur, the music stops.

  The Marquess cradles Julie’s head in his hands and kisses her, then he carries her back to the chaise longue, lays her down on it and kneels down in front of her. There’s more mumbling that I can’t make out and then he stands up and his dressing gown drops to the floor. I know this is my chance for a picture that will clinch it. He lowers himself on top of Julie and I manage to angle the briefcase so that the camera’s in position, and get a good shot of him as he moves back and forth on top of her. When I move the briefcase to try and get a better angle, one of the packing cases creaks. The Marquess stops, looks up and sees the camera through the gap in the packing cases. He screams, leaps to his feet, runs to the door, wrenches it open and Symmonds appears. The Marquess points at the packing cases and Symmonds comes towards me. When he gets close I shut the briefcase, step out from behind the packing cases, and take out my gun.

  Symmonds freezes. The Marquess crouches down by the door, puts his hands up to his face and whimpers something. I tell Symmonds to give me the keys and he takes them out of his pocket and holds them out to me. I take the keys from him, walk past him to the door, keeping the gun on him and wait while the Marquess scurries out of my way. I shut the door, lock it behind me, open the briefcase and the flap on the camera and have a look at the picture of the Marquess on top of Julie. I’ve got him in profile and perfectly in focus. Julie’s naked body is quite clear underneath him and with her head hanging at the angle I’ve caught it, and her mouth gaping open, she’s clearly dead. I put it in my back pocket with the others, walk along the corridor and up the stairs to the trapdoor.

  I lift the trap, climb out, lock up, and make my way among the old cars to the door at the far end. I’m just about to put the pick in the lock when the door swings open, a big fist smashes into my face, and I hit the floor.

  26

  I come to lying on my back on a damp mud floor. It’s pitch dark and I’ve got a crashing headache. I put a hand to my face and I can feel that my cheekbone is tender and swollen but it doesn’t feel broken. There’s a bruise on the back of my head where I must have hit the deck. I try to move my arms and legs and they seem to be working ok, so I get up on all fours and stand up slowly. My head swims and I stagger against a wall of rough stone and sit down on the floor again. When my head clears enough I get up and feel my way along the wall until I come to a corner. I move along for what feels like about ten feet until I get to the next corner and then I come to a solid wooden door, with a round iron handle and a keyhole.

  I sit down again, check my pockets and come up empty. I don’t expect to find the blade that was strapped to my ankle but I check anyway. I lean back against the wall and massage my temples to try and ease the headache. I crawl back along the wall to the door, feel for the keyhole, and put my eye to it but I can’t see a thing. I feel around among the muck and stones on the floor until I find a bit of twisted metal with a sharp point. I straighten it out a bit, work it into the keyhole and come up against something solid, which must be a key, put in from the outside. I work on trying to dislodge it for a bit, but I can’t move it, so I sit back down against the wall. I’m wondering why I’ve been locked up instead of killed like the rest of the girls. I know it means someone’s going to come and get me and all I’ve got against them is a bit of twisted metal.

  I look up and see a small, faint patch of light, high up on the wall above, that could be an opening or a window. I stand up and feel my way round the walls to see if there’s any chance of a foothold to climb up on. I get to the far corner and find an old crumbling chimney piece that’s at an angle to the wall where the stones are pitted and irregular. I put the twist of metal in my belt, feel for
gaps in the stones with my feet and start to climb up. I slip and fall a couple of times, but on the third try I manage to keep climbing until I feel a ledge above me. I get both hands onto it, pull myself up, rest on my elbows and take a short breather. I reach up with one hand and feel a solid iron spike sticking out of the wall. I grab it, pull myself up, turn round and sit on the ledge.

  When I’ve got my breath back, I look up and see where the patch of light’s coming from. It’s a square opening in the opposite wall, with two iron bars across it, directly above the door. I reckon I’ll just be tall enough to see through it if the ledge goes all the way round and I can reach it. I take hold of the metal spike again and pull myself up until I’m standing on the ledge with my back to the wall. I put my hands out to the side to get what grip I can and move my feet along the ledge. When I reach the corner I put a foot out to see if the ledge goes on along the next wall but feel nothing and almost fall, but when I steady myself and reach a bit further with my foot I find the ledge starts again, after a short gap, where it’s probably fallen away. I step across the gap and make it as far as the hole in the wall. I turn round to face it, grip the lower of the iron bars, rise up on tiptoe and take a look. The brick building is a couple of hundred yards away through some trees. I can see the stable block next to it, the courtyard and the house beyond. Dawn’s breaking and I can hear a horse neighing in the stables and birds singing in the trees. As I’m pulling on the iron bars to see if they’ll give way, I hear the key turning in the lock below me.

  I turn round as the door opens slowly and I’m looking down on a large bald head and a pair of wide shoulders that I last saw in a barn in Germany. Heinz takes a step forward, switches on a torch and flicks the beam round the walls. I jump off the ledge and land with both feet on top of his head. He goes down face first and I hit the ground beside him and grab the torch off the floor. As he turns over and tries to get up, I shine the torch in his face, take the metal spike out of my belt and slice it across his throat, but he pulls back and I miss the artery and only gouge his flesh. As he clutches the wound and curses, I stand up, kick him hard under the chin, and he falls back and rolls onto his stomach. I jump on his head with both feet and crush his face into the dirt. I step off him and roll him over. As I raise the metal spike to plunge it into his eye, he rears up, grabs me round the waist, and hurls me against the wall. I black out.

  • • •

  The grey above me looks like the sky, until I turn my head and see the real sky through a car window. I can hear bangs in the distance, like guns being fired. I try to move but my feet and hands are tied. I’m lying on the back seat of a car that isn’t moving and every bit of me hurts. I raise my head and try to make out where I am, but all I can see are trees all around. As I try to sit up, I hear footsteps approaching. I lie down again and close my eyes. A door opens, and the car rolls as someone gets in. I feel breath on my face for a moment. When the car rolls again I open my eyes and see the back of Heinz in the driver’s seat. He starts the engine and the car moves off.

  As we gather speed, I arch my back slowly and look at the distance between me and that massive head. I press my feet against the door and slowly move myself along the seat until my head is against the other door. I take a deep breath, turn onto my back, pull my knees up to my chest, jackknife up off the back seat and kick with all my strength at Heinz’s head. The windscreen shatters, the car lurches off the road, rolls down a bank and smacks against something solid. I bounce off the roof, land face down on the front seat, and I’m out again.

  When I come to, I wriggle onto my back, sit up, and can’t believe my luck. Heinz has gone clean through the windscreen. His head’s on the bonnet and there’s blood pumping from his neck, where it’s been slashed by the frame of the windscreen. I lie back against the door for a moment, then I swing my legs up onto the frame where the windscreen was and scrape the rope that’s round my ankles against the broken glass left in the gully. After what seems like ages, the rope gives way and I’m able to swivel round, kick open the car door and get out. I walk round the wrecked car, looking for something to cut the rope on my wrists, and find a sharp edge of metal where the front wing’s been torn off, which does the job. I go and have a look at Heinz, feel for a pulse in his neck, and find that he’s good and dead.

  I lean on the bonnet of the car and wonder what I should do. I can see the house through the trees and I want to finish what I started, but without the photographs I’ve got nothing. I look down at Heinz’s horrible head, and think what terrible things he’s done to those girls, and all for an old devil who ought to be bleeding to death alongside him. I decide to search him before I go, just in case he’s got the photos on him. I feel in his jacket pockets but there’s only a packet of fags and a lighter. I push him over so that he’s lying along the seat. As I’m leaning forward to get at his back pocket, a voice behind me says, ‘You looking for these?’

  I turn and see the man with the shotgun who stopped me in these woods before. He’s holding his gun in one hand and the photographs in the other. He gives me a slow smile and as I look into his dark eyes, I feel my legs giving way underneath me.

  • • •

  I can hear a crackling noise in the distance and there are streaks of light dancing on the ceiling. I turn my head and the man with the dark eyes is sitting beside a roaring log fire. His shotgun is leaning against the wall beside him, underneath a stag’s head. There’s a white teapot and two cups on a table, and he’s giving me that same smile that made me pass out before. He lifts the teapot.

  ‘Cup of tea?’

  I sit up slowly on the sofa I’ve been asleep on and nod my head. He pours tea and offers up the milk jug. I nod again and he adds milk and brings the cup and the sugar bowl to me. I take two spoonfuls, stir them in, and he puts the bowl back on the table, pours himself a cup, and sits down beside the fire. I take a sip, and then another one and suddenly I just want to stay drinking tea with this nice man in front of his lovely warm fire and never move again.

  After a while he says, ‘I’m glad you back.’

  I’m not sure how to reply, so I just nod.

  ‘It’s got to be stopped,’ he says.

  ‘How long have you known?’ I ask.

  ‘Too long.’

  ‘Why haven’t you done something?’

  ‘No one would have believed me and they would have got me out of the way. A footman found out a while back and they drowned him in the moat.’

  ‘Who knows about it now?’

  ‘Only His Lordship, the butler and that big German bastard.’

  He looks into the fire as if he’s thinking about something. It sounds like he doesn’t know about Nick Boulter’s connection and the Marquess covering for him in return for the girls. It’s probably best to keep it that way.

  ‘Where is that big German bastard?’ I ask.

  ‘In the ground.’

  ‘And the car?’

  ‘Gone.’

  I look out of the window, see that it’s dark. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Gone midnight.’

  ‘Have I been asleep all day?’

  ‘Didn’t seem right to wake you.’

  I can’t believe that I’ve slept so long. ‘Where are the photographs?’ I ask.

  He stands and takes a key out of his pocket. He picks up a clock off the mantlepiece, opens the back of it and takes out the photographs. He looks at them for a moment, shakes his head, hands them to me, and says, ‘It’s got to be stopped.’

  ‘Where did you find these?’

  ‘The big man’s pocket.’

  I pass two photographs back to him. ‘Hang on to those for insurance.’

  He puts them inside the clock and places it back on the mantlepiece.

  ‘Which way is the house?’ I ask.

  He leads me to his front door, opens it and points off to the right. ‘Take that path under the chestnut tree, go on over the rise, and you’ll see the house.’

  He takes my blade
out of his pocket and gives it to me, then he looks me in the eye and shakes my hand. I walk along the path towards the chestnut tree.

  27

  The full moon gives me plenty of light to see my way along the path through the woods. The back of the house is mostly dark apart from a few lights on in the upper rooms. I’m going to try and find the Viscount, tell him the score, show him the pictures and hope he’s bent enough to grass his mate Nick Boulter for a spy. In exchange, I’ll keep his old man’s nasty tricks out of the papers and uphold the family honour. I just need to be careful they don’t drop me in the moat, but if I don’t risk it, Nick and his mob will get me anyway so I haven’t got much choice but to have a go.

  I walk slowly along the side of the stable block, keeping close to the wall, and stop at the corner. The kitchen windows on the other side of the courtyard are dark and so are the ones above on the first floor. All I can hear is the odd snuffle and rustle from the stables, and there’s no one about, so I move along to where the courtyard narrows, go across to the house and try the handle of the kitchen door. It’s locked and I’ve got nothing to work it so I try the windows on each side. The third one along is unlocked and the casement slides up easily. I climb through, stand in the big sink on the other side and close the window behind me. I drop onto the floor, walk round the big wooden table and ease open the door.