by Brian Peters
THE RELUCTANT SAMARITAN
CHAPTER 1
The late evening sun setting behind the trees cast long shadows over the lawn in front of the house. He tensed as he spotted a figure in one of the upstairs windows, scanning the garden. He wondered if he’d been spotted. He hoped not. He slipped the binoculars over his shoulder and ran back to the Mercedes that he’d parked out of sight in the belt of trees adjoining the property. He put the camera and the binoculars into his overnight bag and pocketed his vintage Beretta 950b, making sure that the safety catch was on.
He listened for any sound of a vehicle coming from the house. It wasn’t many seconds before he heard a car start. He got into the drivers seat and slumped down out of sight. He heard the tyres scrunching over the gravel driveway and then the sound of the large remote controlled iron gates creaking open. The big Audi nosed slowly out onto the road and stopped as if the driver was undecided as to which way to turn. He recognised Arland Kennet as the driver, sometime IRA terrorist, now a suspected drugs dealer. Thankfully the car turned and headed away down the lane. The gates swung back slowly as if being pushed by an invisible giant hand and clanged shut.
He emerged from the car, crept along the wall and peered cautiously around one of the tall brick pillars of the gates. There was no sign of anyone in the grounds of the large Georgian house. Windows were lit but no other car was visible. At the top of the imposing steps the colonnaded front door remained closed. He waited for ten minutes then looked at his watch. He decided that he would have to abandon his task, take a chance and leave right away if he was going to catch the overnight ferry later on. He felt it was a day wasted that he could ill afford.
He hurried back to the car and eased the Mercedes out of the trees and back onto the narrow lane, hoping that he wouldn’t meet the big Audi and its dangerous occupant returning on this single-track lane. He accelerated past the gates and toward the main road.
Half an hour later his mobile rang. He sighed and pulled over, switched off the engine and answered the phone.
“Hallo. Ja, Otto, wie geh’ts? Was ist neues?………Nein, es war nicht möglich………aber sieben Uhr morgens, Hoek van Holland………. Ja, danke Otto, bis morgen, Tschüss!”
(Hello. Yes Otto, how goes it? What’s new?…..No, it wasn’t possible…..about seven tomorrow morning, Hook of Holland…..Thanks Otto, till tomorrow, bye!)
He turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. He tried again, still nothing. All the dash lights went out as he tried yet again. He cursed, got out, locked the car and started to walk towards the nearest house at the edge of the village. The sun had disappeared by now; he was conscious of the temperature dropping slightly as the breeze increased. The weather was deteriorating in the distance. Black clouds were gathering, billowing high up in the wide Suffolk sky. Streaks of lightning arced down in the east, thunder followed a few seconds later and the breeze stiffened even more, cooling the air and heralding rain.
****
The day dawned overcast and misty, dank and cold. Carole and Bill Daniels were up before six o’clock, already behind schedule. Carole slipped into Asil’s bedroom and kissed her sleeping eight-year-old daughter on the forehead gently without waking her, before hurrying downstairs as quietly as she could to join Bill in the car. She knew that Mrs. Flowers, the home help would be along soon to get Asil up and get her breakfast.
Bill started off down the steep hill into Towyn at speed. Carole tensed as she sensed that the speed of the car was greater than usual. She looked apprehensively at Bill. He was gripping the wheel tightly and looking wide-eyed at the road ahead. She screamed as Bill frantically pumped the brake pedal. The car hurtled on, out of control. He desperately tried to wrestle the car round the bend but with tyres screaming it plunged through the undergrowth, over the high cliff, bouncing off the rocks and into the sea.
****
Luke was engrossed in an electrical problem on an Alfa Spyder in his workshop, or rather part of the triple garage attached to the large modern house that he shared with his wife, Asil. Upside down, head under the dashboard, shoulders on the floor and legs high up on the back of the passenger seat, he heard his wife call to him from the connecting door to the house.
“What is it, Asil?” he shouted back.
“Luke, some one to see you. Can you come please?”
He sighed, irritated by the interruption. He extricated himself from his uncomfortable position, stretched, wiped his hands on an old cloth, threw it on the workbench and went into the house. He didn’t usually get visitors this late in the evening and wondered who it could possibly be.
When he stepped into the hallway he was confronted by a tall, elegantly dressed man; Asil was standing behind the stranger, looking over his shoulder at Luke and smiling.
The man said: “I am very sorry to be any trouble to you, but my car has broken down just outside your village. One of your neighbours told me that you may be able to fix it for me?”
Luke looked puzzled; he detected a slight foreign accent in the man’s speech. Before he could reply, Asil stepped forward and said: “I’m sure my husband can help you. You will, darling, won’t you?”
Luke hesitated. He said, careful not to commit himself: “We’ll see. You better come through, Mr…?”
“Kohler, Klaus Kohler,” the man said smiling and offering his hand. Luke hesitated then shook it unenthusiastically and said rather curtly: “Luke Lomax. This isn’t a garage by the way. I restore and repair classic cars. Anyway, come through and tell me what seems to be the trouble.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought…” The man frowned, embarrassed. “I really am in a great hurry Mr. Lomax. I am booked on the overnight ferry from Harwich to the Hook tonight. I have an important appointment in Amsterdam early tomorrow morning. If you can’t fix it, maybe I could leave the car with you and perhaps you could order me a taxi to take me to the port? Then perhaps I could collect the car when it is fixed?”
Luke immediately regretted his terse reply, a consequence of his natural Suffolk reserve and his inherent suspicion of strangers. It wasn’t normally in his nature to be rude, but today had been rather trying. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “I’m afraid there are no taxi’s in Monks Eleigh Mr Kohler. Probably the nearest one is in Colchester or Hadleigh. It may be some time before they get here. What time does your boat leave?”
“I have to be at the port by 10.15.”
“Hm, I doubt whether you’ll make it if you wait for a taxi. We’re at least an hour from Harwich.” He looked at his watch. “It’s already gone nine. You can phone the AA from here if you like.”
Kohler shook his head in frustration, shrugged and looked pleadingly at Asil, whom he had already sensed, was keen to help. She said: “You could run Mr. Kohler to Harwich, couldn’t you, Luke?”
Luke shook his head and frowned at his wife. “Asil, I’m in the middle of a job on the Alfa….”
“Oh, that can wait I’m sure, can’t it? Mr. Speroni’s not expecting it until next week, is he?”
Before Luke could answer Kohler said: “I really would be most grateful Mr. Lomax. Of course I will pay you for the journey, whatever it costs. I really am quite desperate to make that ferry.”
Luke frowned again at Asil, paused and said resignedly: “OK. I’ll just wash my hands and get out of these overalls.” He turned to Kohler and looked again at his watch.
” We may just have time to have a quick look at your car, Mr. Kohler. Perhaps it’s something simple that can be fixed.”
Kohler thanked Luke and turned smiling to Asil.
She ushered a relieved Kohler into the large living room and invited him to sit down. Embarrassed, he flashed another smile at As
il, sensing that he may have caused a rift between the two of them. He maintained an uncomfortable silence until she, perched on the arm of a chair opposite him, said by way of an apology: “Luke is a bit stressed at the moment I’m afraid. He’s been working since eight this morning and things just haven’t gone well. He didn’t mean to be rude to you just now.”
“Mrs Lomax, I quite understand. Please think nothing of it. It is late and I would feel the same if I was interrupted at this time in the evening by a stranger.”
Luke returned at that moment and saved any further need for explanations. It had taken him less than a couple of minutes to ready himself. He was still looking tight-lipped when he entered the room.
“Right, come on then Mr. Kohler, let’s get going.” He turned to Asil, whose slight shake of her head and frown told him that she wasn’t at all happy about his continuing bad humour. She pecked him on the cheek and squeezed his hand by way of a goodbye. She knew in her heart that he wouldn’t have forgiven himself had he refused her request to help this man.
A clap of thunder reverberated almost directly overhead, shaking the windows and making Asil jump. Rain had started to hammer down outside.
“Thank you Mrs. Lomax, it has been a pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, looked at her intently with his cornflower blue eyes, took her hand and kissed it lightly, gave a little bow and followed Luke out through the front door and into the drive. Hunched against the rain, he got into the VW estate beside Luke.
Asil waved goodbye from the doorway, angry with herself for blushing like a schoolgirl when he had kissed her on the hand and hoping that he hadn’t noticed. She would have liked more time to spend with Mr. Kohler to get to know him better. Judging by his slight accent she guessed that he was German or Austrian or perhaps Swiss. His suit was expensive, beautifully cut and obviously made to measure for his six feet two inch form. He was very well groomed, quite handsome, although greying prematurely at the temples; she estimated his age at not much over forty. He spoke excellent English. And he had those lovely blue eyes and a winning smile. She was sure that he had held her hand just a second longer than necessary. It was probably as a thank-you for talking Luke round. He reminded her so much of the father she had lost when she was still a child.
Quite a charmer she thought, smiling to herself.
“I presume you have some luggage, Mr Kohler?”
“Only an overnight bag and a briefcase. I’ve left them in the car. It’s about a kilometre away, just inside the sign of your village. I managed to park it off the road, so it will not be in anyone’s way. It is very kind of you Mr. Lomax, I very much appreciate your help.”
“So where have you been today Mr. Kohler?” asked Luke as he drove the short distance to where Kohler had abandoned his car.
“To Sudbury. I deal in old books, first editions mainly, old manuscripts and ancient maps, that sort of thing. The car is a very old Mercedes. I should not have trusted it to come so far. Oh, there it is on the right.”
Luke pulled over and stopped. “So what seems to be the trouble?” he asked.
“Something electrical I think. I stopped to take a call on my phone and then it wouldn’t start again. The dash lights come on but nothing else works.”
They both hurried to the Mercedes, hunched against the rain. Kohler collected a large briefcase and an overnight bag from the boot while Luke switched on the ignition and tried the starter. All the lights went out on the dash and the starter failed to click in. He gave the keys to Kohler and shook his head. Kohler was conscious of time ticking away and was happy to lock the car and give the keys back to Luke. The car was probably twenty years old, a 300SE Mercedes automatic saloon, still in quite good bodily condition. The cream leather upholstery was almost pristine, Luke noted. It had been well cared for.
“It’s not worth looking at it now. It’s obviously an electrical problem. Maybe it’s the battery. It will have to stay where it is tonight, it’ll be safe enough here in the village. I’ll collect it in the morning when it’s light and I’ll see what I can do with it.”
After placing his bags on the rear seat Kohler settled himself in front next to Luke. He brushed the raindrops from the shoulders of his suit and wiped the moisture from his face and hair with his handkerchief.
The roads were relatively quiet on this Monday evening. The rain was bouncing high off the black tarmac, the large drops shining silver in the headlights. As they sped through the country lanes the car’s tyres shot plumes of water onto the verges as it ploughed through small lakes of water. The wipers were on full speed, struggling to clear the incessant torrent.
Fortunately the traffic was also light once they got on to the A120 from Colchester to Harwich, apart from a few container lorries; Luke was able to make good progress. Kohler noted that Luke was an excellent driver, alert, aware and quick.
He was conscious that he wasn’t best pleased with the situation and tried to break the ice.
“You have a most charming wife, Mr. Lomax. Have you been married long?”
“Four years. Yes, she’s an angel, isn’t she? And as you have seen, she can twist me around her little finger!”
Kohler nodded and laughed, pleased to note that Luke smiled as he said it, happier now that he seemed not so cross about having to make the journey.
“Any children?” he asked.
“No, not yet.” Luke was always embarrassed when talking about himself so he changed the subject quickly.
“ So, how about you, Mr. Kohler? Where do you come from?”
“I live in Lüdenscheid in Germany. You may not know of it. It is a town in Nordrhein Westphalia not far from Düsseldorf. It’s very pretty countryside around, rolling hills, forests and lakes. Well, they are reservoirs really. And you, Mr. Lomax? How did you come to live in this charming part of your country?”
“Oh, I was born here. Lived here all my life. Went to school here. I like the peace and quiet of the countryside.”
“Don’t you find it restricts your business, being quite so remote?”
“No, not at all. The internet’s a wonderful tool. I have a small niche in the market for what I do. Fortunately there aren’t too many businesses that can offer a bespoke facility making parts for classic cars. I’m no good at the paperwork though, so my wife takes care of all the administration and lets me get on with the technical side. The perfect partnership, you might say. I’m really very fortunate,”
Kohler laughed again and said: “Indeed you are, Mr Lomax. A good business, a lovely house and a beautiful and charming wife!”
Luke was beginning to like this man.
The sky lightened as the storm clouds were blown further inland. By the time they were within a few miles of Harwich, the rain had stopped and the wind had died down.
Further small talk was exchanged until they reached the port. They had made good time to the Stena Line passenger terminal in spite of the dreadful driving conditions. Luke gave Kohler one of his business cards. Kohler got out and collected his luggage. Luke wound down the window.
“I will phone you tomorrow evening Mr. Lomax. Perhaps the problem with the car will be solved by then? Please add the cost of this journey to your invoice and I will pay you cash when I collect the car, if that is all right with you? Or would you prefer that I pay you now for the journey?”
Kohler felt in the inside pocket of his jacket for his wallet.
“No, no, that’s fine Mr. Kohler. But don’t be disappointed if I can’t fix your car by tomorrow. I’ll do the best I can though.”
“I am sure you will, Mr. Lomax.” Kohler shook Luke’s hand warmly, thanked him again, and hurried off to the check-in office.
****
It was nearly midnight when Luke arrived home. Asil was still up watching TV, waiting for him, having prepared a plate of sandwiches and a pot of coffee. She hoped that he wouldn’t still be in a mood. She got up and embraced him as he walked through the door.
“Did yo
u manage to get him there on time?” Asil said brightly
“The driving conditions were atrocious going to Harwich, but we got there in plenty of time.”
Luke sat down at the kitchen table, poured himself a coffee and took a sip. Asil sat down opposite him.
“Well, what a lovely man!”
Luke raised his eyebrows. “He quite liked you too, Asil. He described you as charming and beautiful!”
“Don’t tease me Luke!” she said. “Are you still cross with me for asking you to take him?”
“No, of course not,” he said bursting into a big smile. He could never stay cross with Asil for long. “Well, I was, but not any more. He is quite a nice man, actually. But he wants me to get the car fixed by tomorrow evening. You’ll have to help me fetch it first thing in the morning. Just as well there’s no hurry for the Alfa.”
“Well, what did you talk about? Where does he come from? Did he…..”
“Whoa, Asil! He’s German, comes from Lüdenscheid, wherever that is, and he collects old books and manuscripts apparently.”
“Is he married? I noticed he doesn’t wear a ring.”
“Asil, I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. Anyway, why do you want to know, eh?”
“We women like to know these things!” she said. Luke shook his head and laughed. “I can see that you’ve taken a shine to him already!” Asil threw a table napkin at him. It missed. Luke smiled and tucked into his sandwiches.
He was constantly amazed at his wife’s good nature and her love of life. He knew that she had survived the death of both her parents in a car crash when she was about nine years old. She had told him that her father had left her an inheritance worth several million pounds, the product of suspected ill-gotten gains from an East European country while he was in the diplomatic service. But she had never related the details of her subsequent life up until they first met.