Chapter 32
“Sal, it’s Claw.”
“Wow! You’re up early for a Sunday morning. What’s happened?”
“Look, I know you’ve got your triathlon this morning–”
“Yeah, you only just caught us. We’re about to leave.”
“Sal, something’s happened. What time do you think you’ll be home? I need to call in and see you.”
“Sounds serious, Claw. Tell me all. Do you want us to cancel?”
“Yes, it is serious, but no, I certainly don’t want you to cancel. You’ve been training hard for this. Anyway, I’ve got to try to snatch some more sleep and then it will take me about a couple of hours to get to you, by which time you’ll be almost finished.”
“Are you at home?”
“Um, no, I’m in the Lakes. Look Sal, it’s a long story and there’s not time to go into it now. I’m sure that Ced is champing at the bit to leave. I just wanted to know that you were going to be home straight after the race. Enjoy your event and don’t worry.”
“Yeah, right! Like close your eyes and don’t think of a white horse. OK, Claw, we’ll be finished by ten and we’ll get home as quickly as we can. It should be by about a quarter to eleven.”
“OK, I’ll be waiting. And good luck!”
Claudia and Lily pulled up outside Sally and Ced’s house shortly after ten-thirty. Claudia sat back and stretched.
“You must be exhausted, Claudia,” said Lily. “You should have let me do some of the driving.”
Claudia smiled appreciatively. “Thanks, I’ll be fine. But almost no sleep, two long drives and all this tension, it’s catching up on me.”
They had decided to leave Lily’s rental car at Lola’s in case the police didn’t release the Volvo, leaving at 8.30 after several cups of strong coffee. Claudia had set the alarm on her phone for 6.00 to catch Sally at home, but she’d managed to get back to sleep again. Lily’s short night had ended when Sophie and Phoebe returned to the house at 7.30, running straight to their room and squealing with delight at finding her there. Despite her tiredness, she pulled them both into bed and hugged them. Her two adorable half-sisters. There was only one piece missing now to complete the picture.
There was a toot and Ced’s SUV pulled up behind them.
“I’ll stay here while you explain about Papa,” said Lily to Claudia. “Then we’ll do the introductions.”
Claudia opened her door and climbed out of her car as Ced unwound his long limbs from his. He was mud-splattered but looked pleased with himself. He ambled up to Claudia.
“Hi, Claw,” he said, bending over to kiss her cheek. “Sal’s only just told me you were popping in. What’s up?”
“I’ll tell you in a mo. How did you get on?”
He grinned like a child at Christmas. “Third place, Claw. And a great time, despite being poisoned last weekend.”
“Self-inflicted, Ced,” said Claudia, shaking her finger at him reproachfully. Then she smiled. “Congratulations, that’s brilliant. How about you, Sal?”
“Not bad, Claw, thanks,” said Sally as she walked up to the car. “Twelfth overall and second in the cycling leg. Could have been better, but I’m pleased enough. Now, no more mystery, Claw, what’s happened?”
“John Andrews appears to have been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped!” echoed Sally in alarm. “When? How?”
She recounted the events of the previous afternoon.
“It has to be connected to everything we’ve found out,” she said, “which means that the prof must have told someone, since none of us has.”
“Certainly not,” said Sally. “It’s what we all agreed. But I can’t believe that Young would have broken his word.”
Claudia nodded. “I know, but I can’t think of any other explanation. I think we need to see him asap. I’ve called him to ask if he’s in the lab today and he is, so I think we should go down there. Do you agree?”
“Absolutely,” replied Ced. “How did he sound?”
“Actually,” said Claudia, “he sounded perfectly normal. Said he’d be delighted to see me and discuss the results some more. Certainly didn’t sound like he was hiding anything. I didn’t mention that you’d be coming.”
“Claw, who’s that in your car?” asked Sally.
“Oh, heavens,” said Claudia, “I’d forgotten about Lily. I’ll introduce you. You’re going to find this totally unbelievable. Are you ready for a shock?”
“You mean a bigger shock than hearing that John Andrews has been kidnapped?” asked Sally, raising her eyebrows.
“Bigger,” replied Claudia. “Much bigger.” She called to Lily.
Lily got out and turned towards them, smiling. Ced and Sally’s mouths dropped open as they noticed her eyes.
Lily walked round the car and held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Lily Saunders.”
Sally looked from Lily to Claudia and back again, registering the amusement on Claudia’s face, despite the seriousness of the reason for their visit. She took Lily’s hand. “Sally,” she said, “Sally Moreton. I don’t wish to be rude, but your eyes. This isn’t just a coincidence, is it?” She turned again to Claudia.
“It’s not only the eyes,” said Ced as he studied Lily’s face. “It’s the whole shape of your face. You must be related to John Andrews. Oh, sorry, I’m Ced Fisher.”
“Delighted to meet you, both of you,” laughed Lily. She looked up at Ced. “You’re very observant, Ced, but from what I’ve heard about your work with art analysis, I’m not surprised.”
“Let’s go inside,” said Claudia, “We’ve had almost no sleep and we’re desperate for some more coffee. I’ll make a huge pot while you two get the grime off yourselves. Then all will be explained.”
Twenty minutes later in the sitting room, Lily had told them who she was.
“I knew it!” exclaimed Sally. “I told Ced when we were showering. I was convinced you had to be John Andrews’ daughter.”
She jumped up and took Lily’s hands in hers. “God, this is so exciting. Lily, I need to give you a hug.” She pulled Lily to her feet and threw her arms around her.
Lily laughed. “I seem to be drawn to tall people. My girlfriend Jenny in New York, who started this whole thing off for me when she bought a picture from Papa, she’s about your height!”
Sally held her out at arm’s length, the excitement lighting up her face. “It’s incredible,” she enthused. “Lily, are you an artist like John?”
“Yes, I am. He taught me most of my skills when I was growing up. He’s a brilliant teacher.”
“That was in Hong Kong?” said Ced. “What was he called then?”
“Stephen Waters.”
“Stephen Waters. Mysterious colonial artist. I should have made the connection, but I was only thinking in terms of Europe. He disappeared suddenly, fell out of the pages of history like so many of John Andrews’ personas.”
“Disappeared is right. Like I did. I was kidnapped, then I escaped to northern China, only to find myself trapped into years of servitude. I had no idea what happened to Papa. I still have no idea, except that I now know he went to the States as Stefano Baldini before he came to England as Francesco Moretti.”
“Yes,” nodded Ced. “We’ve made the connection with those two. There must also have been someone else between Moretti and Andrews, but I haven’t tracked him down yet.”
“Matthew Allen,” said Lily, “Lola told me.”
“Matthew Allen,” repeated Ced. “Very obscure, though I’ve heard of him. Worked in the West Country. Devon. I don’t know much about his work.”
“Wow, Ced, you’re good!” said Lily in admiration. “You really know your stuff.”
“It’s what I do, Lily,” he replied, reddening slightly in embarrassment at her praise. He tapped his lip with the knuckle of his index finger. “I don’t think Matthew Allen will be too easy to find, but I’m sure I can rustle up some Stephen Waters. Let me get my computer.”
He loped from th
e room, returning a moment later clutching his laptop. Opening it up, he tapped on the keys, his eyes flashing over the screen.
“There, two images. Both from the Hong Kong Museum of Art. There’s a landscape of what I assume is Hong Kong harbour and a portrait of a Chinese child. No, wait a minute, she’s Eurasian.” He looked at Lily in amusement and turned the screen towards her. “Does she look familiar?”
Lily glanced at the picture and leaned her chin onto her clasped hands. “It’s me at the age of eight!” she exclaimed in delight. “It was painted not many months before my mother died. She loved that painting. Gosh, it’s so exciting to know it still exists and that it’s safe in a museum.”
She took the computer and studied the image in detail. “How wonderful, after all this time.”
Claudia decided it was time to get them back on track.
“Listen guys, it’s brilliant that we’ve made this connection but I really think we should be getting on to London; it’s quite a long drive.”
“Yes,” agreed Ced, “and from the dark shadows under your eyes, not one you should be making. We’ll go in my car. It’s bigger and you can both doze on the way.”
“And you’re not tired, I suppose,” countered Claudia. “After all, you’ve only just run a triathlon!”
“It was a mini, Claw. I just need some grub before we leave and I’ll be fine.”
“Actually,” said Sally, “is it wise that Lily meets the prof? Since she’s the same as John, she’s as vulnerable as he is. I think you should stay here, Lily.”
“No way, Sally,” said Lily, “although I hear what you say – Claudia and I have already talked about it. We agree that it wouldn’t be a good idea for Young to know about me for now. But we have to consider the possibility that he is innocent as well – there could be some other explanation as to why whoever’s kidnapped Papa found out about him. I can stay in the car while you three talk to Young and decide whether you think he’s a bad guy or not.”
“OK,” replied Sally, “a fair compromise. Do you have a mobile, Lily?”
“Yes, but it’s for the States. I haven’t tried it here yet.”
“Right. In case it’s a problem, I’ve got a spare which I’ll program to speed dial mine, Ced’s and Claw’s so that we can all stay in touch.”
Twenty minutes later, once Ced and Sally had wolfed down some bacon and eggs, they were on their way. Within five minutes, both Lily and Claudia were sound asleep in the back of the car. Sally turned to look at them.
“Ced,” she said quietly, “I can’t believe it. That beautiful Chinese woman with a flawless complexion sitting in the back of our car is a hundred and twenty-four years old. Isn’t that incredible?”
“I’ll go carefully over any bumps,” he replied, accelerating onto the motorway.
“Idiot!” she said, thumping him playfully on the arm.
Three and a half hours later as they crossed Vauxhall Bridge in London, Sally nudged them both awake.
Lily looked out at the view. “So this is the famous River Thames,” she said. “Where’s Tower Bridge?”
“It’s a bit further along the river from here,” laughed Sally, “but you’ll see the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben across the river once we’re over the bridge. Listen, I’ve been thinking; rather than stay in the car in some car park, I think it would be better if you went somewhere public to sit while we talk to the prof. There’s a nice cafe at the Royal Festival Hall where you can sit and take in the sights. We’ll park the car and install you there. And you must promise not to go anywhere. OK?”
“Sounds good to me,” replied Lily.
They found her a seat in the cafe and she repeated her promise not to move. Still Sally hovered.
“Sally,” said Lily, “stop worrying, I’ll be perfectly fine. Apart from you three, Lola is the only other person in England who knows about me. I’m not about to be accosted here. And if I am, I can scream very loudly, I can assure you.”
“OK,” nodded Sally, “but if you’re in any way worried, hit the speed dials on your phone. Both Ced and I can run very fast; we’ll be here within minutes.”
“Thank you Sally, you’re an angel.”
As they walked towards Frank Young’s laboratory, Claudia phoned him again to say she was two minutes away. He told her he’d meet her in the lobby. They arrived moments later and told the bored security guard that they had an appointment. Almost immediately, they heard the ping of a lift and the professor appeared.
“Sally! Ced!” cried the professor with a welcoming smile. “How good to see you. Claudia didn’t say she had you in tow. What a pleasant surprise. I should have thought you’d have better things to do on a fine Sunday afternoon than drive all the way down here. Come, I’ve just put some coffee on, let’s go up to the lab.”
As the professor was chatting away lightly to Claudia in the lift, Ced caught Sally’s eye and raised his eyebrows. She squeezed his hand and shrugged. The professor was hardly acting like a guilty man.
He buzzed them through the security system and took them to his office. “So, what’s prompted your visit?” he said, busying himself with making coffee. “Have you dug out anything from the data? I’ve been over it a dozen times and I’m as convinced as I was the first time I saw it that we’ve got it right. I took a break yesterday, at my wife’s insistence, but it’s such an important discovery that I couldn’t stay away for two days running. I’ve been poring over the data printouts again since you rang this morning, Claudia.”
“Prof,” said Claudia hesitantly, “something serious has happened and it has to be connected to our findings.”
He frowned, appearing genuinely puzzled.
“What is it, Claudia? You certainly all look very serious.”
“John Andrews has been kidnapped.”
“What! When? Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, Prof,” replied Claudia, and she told him what she knew of events of the previous afternoon.
As usual, the professor was ahead of them. “And you’re thinking, presumably, that since we are the only people to know about John Andrews, that I must have told someone, since none of you has. Am I right?” he said as Claudia finished.
Claudia looked down, embarrassed.
“That was the only conclusion we could make,” said Sally quietly. “We’re not accusing you of anything. We were, well, wondering if you’ve had any conversations with anybody, or if anyone could have seen the results.”
He smiled kindly. “You’re right, of course. It was the only conclusion you could draw under the circumstances. However, I haven’t told a soul and no one has seen these results.” He pointed to the pile of papers spread around his desk. “The papers have stayed with me. I’ve taken them home every night, locked in my briefcase.”
“Can anyone else access your computer?” asked Ced.
“Absolutely not! Everything is passworded and the original files are several layers of security into my system. The firewall is one of the most advanced of its kind.”
“Have you made any notes that indicate what the results are all about, anything that gives names? John Andrews, for instance?” asked Ced.
The professor nodded. “Yes, actually, I have. After our conversation of last weekend, it was such an exciting discovery, especially when allied to all the art findings that you’ve made, Ced, that I made notes on it all. I may be knowledgeable in the field of genetics, but the art information was new to me and I didn’t want to forget any of it. But the notes are only on the computer; I haven’t even printed them out.”
“May I have a look?” asked Ced.
“Certainly. I’ll turn on the computer. I haven’t even done that today because I’ve been working from the printouts.”
Once the system had loaded, he entered a master password and then several more to access his own files. He paused and checked the screen, frowning as he did. He typed a few more keys, hit the return and stared at the screen.
Ced was watching his face.
It had gone as white as a sheet. “I don’t understand it,” he whispered, his words almost inaudible.
“What?” asked Ced, leaning forward in his chair.
“They’re gone.”
“What have gone?”
“All the raw data from our tests on Andrews’ DNA and all the results. They’re not here. Even the notes I made have gone. That’s impossible.”
He tapped in some more instructions. “Everything else is in place as usual. But anything connected to Andrews is no longer here. Nothing. It’s like it never existed.”
“When was the last time you called up the data on the computer, professor?” asked Ced.
“Friday morning. It was all here on Friday morning.”
“Did you add to your notes at all after you made them?”
“No, as I said, they were an aide memoire. I completed them the day after our discovery.”
“Mind if I have a look?” asked Ced.
“Go ahead,” said the professor, vacating his seat. “But I doubt you’ll be able to get into the system; the security, as I said, is cutting edge.”
“We’ll see,” replied Ced as his fingers flew across the keyboard. The screen went blank for a moment and then lines of code appeared. He scrolled through them rapidly, searching for something. After scanning through the data for several minutes, he typed in some more instructions and the data on the screen changed again, although it still consisted of lines of seemingly incomprehensible code.
He sat back. “I thought so,” he said, rubbing his chin.
“What is it, Ced?” asked the professor, amazed that Ced had cut straight into his system.
“Well,” replied Ced, nodding to himself as he scanned the lines. “The system is good, but it’s not that good. There are certainly several layers of security and flags that would ping if someone was trying to hack in, as you would expect. But the worrying thing is that there seems to be an external link.”
“What do you mean?” said Young, frowning.
“As far as I can see at the moment,” replied Ced as he tapped some more keys, “it looks as if your computer is linked to another one at a remote location outside of the system in the laboratory. What that means is that as long as a person at the remote location knows your passwords – and they can easily get those by monitoring your keystrokes when you log in – everything on this computer is mirrored at their location. Your files can be searched and read. All of them. And they can be deleted. Who set this up?”
Young sat down in an adjacent chair. “You mean someone has been spying on me?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,” said Ced as he turned to the prof. “Is whoever set this up connected with your source of funding?”
Young gulped as his mind raced to make sense of the situation. He nodded slowly. “My funding comes from a company called Peterson BioTech. You’ve probably heard of them. Claudia and Sally certainly will have.” He glanced at the girls.
“Yes,” said Sally, “they’re a British company and one of the biggest worldwide suppliers of biochemical and genetic markers for testing.”
“Exactly,” said Young. “I have close contact with many of the scientists working directly for the company. It’s a highly respected outfit that has been hugely successful. They’re channelling millions back into research every year, much of it into universities or satellite laboratories, such as this one. It sounds generous, which it is, but it pays dividends as Peterson gets first crack at many of the big breakthroughs that are happening. But it’s all very carefully controlled and monitored. They are absolute sticklers for transparency and openness. I can’t believe the company would be responsible for what’s happened here.”
“Maybe they’ve got a rogue employee,” suggested Ced, “perhaps a plant from a competitor who’s monitoring results as they appear and, if something is thought to be big enough, simply stealing it. After all, who’s to say that other companies aren’t running similar research to yours? Who’s your contact there? Maybe we should speak with him.”
“My contact is the visionary who started the company and who controls all the research. You’ve probably heard of him: Sir Wallingford Peterson.”
Ced nodded. “Bright boy, tons of honours in biotech and genetics at Cambridge when he was young. Entrepreneurial type who capitalised on his brains and business skills big time. A real rags-to-riches story, as I recall.”
“Yes,” said the professor, “he came from a very humble background in Yorkshire, but he’s now a billionaire.”
“Well, he obviously didn’t install this system by himself, so who did?” asked Claudia.
“You’re right,” said the professor, “but he was very involved. His people – actually it was only one person – set up everything.”
As he was talking, Ced was still attacking the keyboard. “I keep hitting the same barriers, but that might be because I’m doing it from your system. Let’s try another way.”
He pulled his laptop out of his bag and fired it up. He connected it to the Internet via a plug-in modem to keep it isolated from the laboratory system and started to enter instructions.
“I’m going through a few proxies so the remote system can’t detect where I am,” he explained as his fingers flashed over the keys in a blur. “There, I thought we’d get further that way.” He typed something and hit the return button. For a moment a logo for Peterson BioTech appeared, but the image quickly decayed.
“Gotcha!” he said. “You all saw that, didn’t you? I won’t be able to repeat it. Their system has automatically closed that door and will now be slamming a few others.”
Young stood and paced the room, his hands behind his back and his head down.
He stopped and turned to Claudia. “You said that Andrews was at his exhibition and a man came to buy his paintings and they left together. Did anyone give a description of the man?”
“Yes,” replied Claudia. “He was in his early fifties, distinguished looking, self-assured. Wavy grey hair, elegantly cut, swept back. He was casually but expensively dressed. Beige designer slacks–”
“And a blue and white checked shirt,” said Young, finishing off her sentence. “That’s Peterson himself. He must be directly involved, the bastard!”
He banged his fist hard on a bench, startling the others. “What a fool I’ve been! Lured by the offer of his money to a life of full-time, no-strings research. Except that he was watching my every move, reading every result as it appeared. He must have someone monitoring me all the time, and, I assume, others like me. That would explain a few things that have happened. Twice now I’ve come up with something pretty profound, only to be preempted by a call from Peterson sounding very excited, telling me that his scientists down at their specialist research laboratories near Horsham had come up with identical findings. When I’ve said I was about to break the same news to him, he would suggest that I move onto a slightly different line since his people had it all in hand.”
“But you’ve never had results simply disappear,” said Sally.
“No,” he replied, “but I’ve never had anything remotely as important as what we’ve discovered.”
His eyes suddenly darted around the room. He went to his desk and opened a drawer, peering into it carefully. Then he opened another and did the same.
“Interesting,” he said. “Someone’s been in here.”
“How do you know?” asked Claudia
“I’m a little paranoid about internal security. It may be difficult to get into the laboratory from the outside, but once you’re in, most places can be accessed. So I leave a few things in very precise positions. Inside these drawers, for example, there are pens and other things I never touch. And they’ve moved. Someone has been looking for something.”
“They must have been looking for any printouts of the data and results,” said Ced. “With those as well, you’d have no record of anything. And if they have Andrews, you’d have no further access to any DNA. I suggest you make a number of copies o
f everything and store them in a very safe place, like a safety deposit box in a bank. If they think you’re carrying them around in your briefcase, they might well be snatched as you’re walking along the street.”
“Of course,” added Young, “they would have no idea about the copies that Claudia and Sally have. Although if they realised their involvement, they might assume they have copies and start looking for them.”
“You mean burgle our houses?” said Claudia, horrified at the thought.
“I think you have to consider that possibility, yes,” replied Young.
“Did you mention them, the girls I mean, in your notes?” asked Ced.
“No, not by name I didn’t. Only you, Ced.”
“What exactly did you put in those notes?” asked Ced.
“I described how we’d found that Andrews must be very old; how, from your work, we knew he was the same person as Moretti, Bianchi and others. I also mentioned that the second round of immunity tests was done on a sample from an envelope, but I didn’t describe how it was obtained. And I summarised the conclusions we’d made regarding Andrews’ immunity and the reasons why he doesn’t age.”
“So they’ve got some of the story but not all of it,” said Claudia.
“If someone from Peterson BioTech read that on Monday soon after the prof wrote it, they could have alerted Peterson,” said Sally. “With John’s name, he would have quickly found out where he lived and he would probably have picked up the information about the exhibition. Perfect timing for them, really.”
“What worries me,” added Ced, “apart from the kidnap, of course, is that without the source material to repeat the tests, our raw data, results and interpretation are pretty much worthless. We could have fabricated the whole thing.”
“Yes,” agreed Young, “I have been having the same thoughts. And if they now have Andrews, they could work away using DNA from his blood for as long as it takes to come up with the huge breakthroughs in gene therapy that would inevitably result.”
“Or they could do something altogether more sinister,” mused Ced, “like work out how to change people’s genetic structure to include the appropriate arrangement to give them enhanced or total immunity. They could then sell that to a select set of people for a huge price.”
“Mmm, that really is a bit Hollywood-esque,” smiled Young, “but ultimately, I suppose, not totally beyond the bounds of possibility.”
“Excuse me,” said Sally suddenly, “I need to make a call.” She walked out of the office while Young’s eyes followed her suspiciously.
“Don’t worry,” laughed Ced, noting the prof’s reaction, “we know what it’s about; she’s not tipping off Peterson.”
Sally pressed the speed dial for the phone she’d lent Lily.
“Hi, Lily, everything OK?”
“Fine thanks, Sally, although I’m getting a bit awash with coffee. How’s it going?”
“The prof is as innocent as we are. But we’ve found that his computer system was secretly linked to another and everything he puts on it is read. He’s been spied on big time.”
“Wow, that’s bad news. But at least the prof’s in the clear, so it should be safe for me to meet him.”
“Actually, Lily, I still don’t think it’s a good idea. I suspect the prof’s going to confront the person he thinks is responsible. Supposing that person kidnaps him and makes him tell him everything? If he doesn’t know about you, then he can’t tell.”
“Good point, Sally. I’ll sit tight and wait for you.”
As Sally went back into the room, she overheard Ced suggesting the professor should visit Peterson immediately, just as she’d predicted.
“Where does he live?” Ced was asking.
“He lives in a big old Victorian house at the Horsham site of the company’s research arm.”
“How unusual would it be for you to visit on a Sunday evening?”
“A bit unusual, certainly, but then again, with something of the importance of the results we have, he wouldn’t expect me to wait. And if I turn up there full of excitement about the significance of the findings, he can’t let on that he already knows; he’ll have to hear me out. I could tell a lot from how he reacts.”
“How good is the security there?” asked Ced.
“It’s tight, at least on the perimeter. No one gets in without an appointment, even me. But one call to Peterson would solve that. If I call and say I have a breakthrough of profound importance, he’s going to want me there as quickly as possible. But I’d have to go alone; none of you would be allowed in.”
“Do they search cars when they arrive?” asked Ced.
“No, well, certainly mine has never been searched.”
“What sort of car do you have?”
“A Passat hatchback.”
“Good. Plenty of room in the boot under the parcel shelf.”
“Ced!” cried Sally. “What are you thinking of doing?”
“Simple,” replied Ced. “The prof drives up to the gates, having phoned ahead – I think you should delay that call, professor, until you’re only a few minutes away so that Peterson doesn’t have any time to do anything about Andrews, assuming that he’s got him there. You can say that you were so excited that you jumped into the car and forgot to phone. I can hunker down in the boot. When we get there, once you’ve gone in and it’s all quiet, I’ll slip out and do a recce of the place; see if I can find anywhere that they might be holding John Andrews.”
“No, Ced,” said Sally emphatically, “that’s far too dangerous. The grounds might be crawling with security guards. If they catch you, the least they will do is hand you over to the police as a trespasser. But more likely, they’ll lock you up with John Andrews and I’ll never see you again.”
“Are the grounds crawling with guards, Prof?” asked Ced.
“As far as I’m aware,” replied Young, looking sheepishly at Sally, “there will be two or three of Peterson’s personal security guards in the house. The assumption is that the perimeter security is excellent – they have a very effective CCTV monitoring system around the entire perimeter, which is several miles, and a high wall that is very difficult to scale. So the grounds near the house, which have a good cover of bushes, should be safe enough to check out the house from.”
“There we are!” smiled Ced, clapping his hands together. “That settles it. There’s very little risk. The prof and I can keep our phones on vibrate only and text each other with info.”
“I’m still not happy with it, Ced,” said Sally angrily.
“Look, Sal,” said Ced. “If you think it through, we are all responsible for getting John Andrews into this situation. We have an equal responsibility to get him out of it.”
“In that case,” chimed in Claudia, “I go in with you. It’s more my fault than anyone’s that he’s in this predicament.”
“Claw,” sighed Ced, “that can’t happen. With all due respect, if the chips are down, I can run bloody fast. I’ve also done a bit of martial arts stuff – a long time ago now it’s true, but it’s in there somewhere. You might be little and easier to hide than me but, frankly, that’s the only plus you have going for you. I don’t want to have to keep looking out for you when I should be concentrating on Andrews and watching my own back, as well as perhaps the prof’s. Sorry.”
“Ced,” said Sally, her tone showing that she was resigned to the fact that he was going ahead with his plan, “if you get any indication that Andrews is there, any at all, you mustn’t try to rescue him. He’s bound to have guards with him. No heroic gestures, OK? Just leave with the prof. We’ll call the police and insist they go in, despite whatever protests Peterson puts up.”
Ced caught the professor’s eye. They both knew this was an unlikely scenario.
“Sure, Sal, I won’t take any unnecessary risks,” replied Ced, trying to inject some confidence into his smile.
“Well, whatever happens,” said Claudia, “we’ll follow you down to Horsham in your car and w
ait a mile or two up the road for you. You never know; we might be needed.”
As Sally and Claudia walked back to the cafe at the Royal Festival Hall to fetch Lily, Sally repeated her misgivings over the whole scheme.
“I really don’t like this, Claw. Suppose they’ve got guns. We’re not the Famous Five; this is real life and in real life, people don’t do this sort of thing. Criminals aren’t all stupid, you know; they sometimes get the upper hand.”
“I know, Sal, but Ced’s set on it and I really can’t think of another option. If the police were told now, they’d call Peterson and he’d soft-soap them. He’s an important man; they’d always believe him over us.”
“Oh my God!” cried Sally as they walked into the restaurant. “She’s not there! Claw, Lily’s gone!”
They rushed up to the table where they’d left Lily. It had been cleared and there was no sign of her.
“I knew I should have phoned again,” said Sally, her eyes searching the tables. “I was so preoccupied by this scheme of Ced’s that it went out of my head.”
“Perhaps she’s gone for a stroll down by the river,” said Claudia.
“No, she wouldn’t do that. She swore she would stay put. Christ, Claw, this just gets worse.”
She retrieved her phone from her bag and punched the speed dial for Lily’s phone.
“Lily! Where are you?”
“Right behind you, honey!”
“What!” Sally spun round to see Lily standing there looking bemused.
“Lily!” cried Sally, throwing her arms around her. “Where were you? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” said Lily, “but it’s been a while and with all that coffee, I simply couldn’t wait any longer. I had to find a bathroom.”
Rare Traits (The Rare Traits Trilogy Book I) Page 33