A couple sat at the tiny bar at the far end of the hall and nursed tall glasses of beer. As he approached the woman positioned herself hastily to the side of the counter which doubled as reception. Her ‘good evening’ didn’t bear even the glimmer of a smile.
He gave her a large one. ‘Dr. Stephen Caldwell, please.’
As she shook her head, her sleek bob moved from side to side. Her features were pointed. A little ratface. ‘Not in.’
‘Don’t you think you should check?’
‘I don’t need to check,’ she said crossly. ‘I know.’ For good measure she pointed towards a pigeon hole in which he could see the stubby end of a key ring. He looked at it hungrily.
‘Maybe I could wait for him. I’m kinda tired. A bed would be nice.’ He smiled his lazy smile. To no avail. She turned cold grey eyes on him.
‘We have no free rooms. If you want to wait…’ She gestured towards a grim little stool which would hardly take the brunt of his bottom.
‘You couldn’t just let me into his room. He wouldn’t mind.’
‘I have no instructions.’
No. No instructions. No instructions from the Party Boss. He felt like giving her a good tidy slap, but a glance at burly man at the edge of the bar put paid to the desire. No point.
‘Did he say when he would be back?’
She shook the bob again.
‘Okay. Why don’t you tell him Ted Knight called.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Tell him I’ll be back in an hour. Tell him it’s important. He’s to wait.’
She put a note pad on the counter, handed him a pen. ‘Leave a message. That way, no mistakes.’
‘Okay…’ Ted drawled, scribbled a message.
Outside, the snow was still coming down. Never mind. He’d grab a taxi as soon as one showed its face. He trudged through the snow, his feet heavier and colder by the minute. Christ he could use a drink. He would have had one there, if the place hadn’t looked so godforsaken. As cheerful as the underbelly of a cemetery.
If only that fool of a woman had done her work before. She probably could have too. The sleek little rat might have bent for a wife, under a little pressure. But she didn’t know what pressure was, that one. Wrong messenger. Now that bitch of an Ariane would have been up there slithering in his bed in two seconds flat and getting anything she asked for. Correction. Anything she wanted.
There was a shabby looking bar at the corner. Why not? He stepped in, smelled sweet muggy heat. He stamped his feet to chip the ice inside and out and ordered a whisky. A double. Slung it down and set off again. The business had to be finished tonight. He would pack his bags in preparation. Ready for take-off.
Lady Luck was on his side. A taxi was crawling down the road. He waved it down and watched it skid to a halt. In ten minutes he was in front of the Pariz and the doorman in his trim duck’s egg uniform waved him in with a flourish. Yes, money made a difference. A good difference, he thought as he adjusted his eyes to the light of crystal chandeliers. Jake must have made a killing on his last deal to buy himself that little hideaway.
Ted Knight strode across the lobby, had almost reached the desk, when he saw Caldwell coming toward him. His face was tight, devoid of any expression. His eyes scanned the area behind Ted, so that until he stopped in front of him, Ted wasn’t altogether certain of his direction.
‘Stephen.’ Ted made sure the smile was firmly curled on his lips. There was no answering nicety.
‘Where’s my wife?’
The words were a growl and the man looked as if he was about to sock him. That wouldn’t get him very far, Ted hardened himself in readiness. Nor would it do. Not here, in front of all these people. Not now. Not unless he had that damned computer with him. Which he didn’t. Shame. Though it was a good thing he knew about Tess and wanted her back. That would save time, make things a whole lot easier.
‘Your wife, of course. Tess.’ Ted paused to ask reception for his key. ‘We should discuss this in private, don’t you think?’ He dangled the key in front of Stephen, marched towards the elevator. ‘Actually, I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve been to your hotel, been looking for you.’
Stephen’s face gave nothing away. ‘Where’s Tessa?’ he repeated.
‘We’ll get to that in a moment.’ He gestured round him, pointing out the people clustering into the elevator, urged Stephen into the group. They rode up in silence, but no sooner had Ted closed the door of his room softly behind them, than Stephen reiterated, ‘Where have you taken her?’
‘A drink, Stephen. We can talk more calmly over a drink.’
Stephen looked warily round the pristine hotel room, watched Ted bring out a bottle of whisky from a corner cabinet. Was it possible that Tessa had left? If only she had. He paced back towards the passage which led into the main room, quietly slid open a mirrored door. Her case. He took a deep uneven breath.
‘Oh yes, she’s still with me. In a manner of speaking,’ Ted chuckled, as he handed him a glass. The man missed nothing.
‘I want to see her.’
‘Of course you do. In due course. All in due course.’ Ted waved him towards a chair.
‘Where have you taken her?’
‘Don’t worry. She’s quite safe. I wouldn’t like to see her come to any harm, but…’
Stephen flinched, read the veiled menace though it was nowhere in the man’s face. He imitated his casual tone. ‘Well, let’s go then.’
‘Not so fast, Stephen. There’s a little business we need to transact first. You do want Tessa back? Yes, I can see that. Well, I’m not surprised. She’s a fine woman.’
‘I hardly need your recommendation.’ Stephen muttered. He fixed his gaze on his glass, stopped himself from bodily wiping the leer off the man’s face.
‘No, no, of course not. But let’s just get this straight. You want Tessa. I imagine she wants to see you, too.’ Ted dangled it, like a soft feathery bait. ‘But, well, you see, I have Tessa. And there’s a little something I want in exchange.’
Stephen kept himself very still, tried to gauge exactly how dangerous Ted might be. If he needed to, would he resort to more than guile?
‘Aren’t you going to ask me what it is?’
‘You’re going to tell me, aren’t you.’
Ted laughed. ‘Yes, I guess I am.’ He straightened the crease in his trousers. ‘Let’s just say I have this little hankering for that PC of yours. Too bad you haven’t got it with you, or we could settle all this straight away.’
‘My PC?’ Stephen played dumb and thought quickly. If Ted wanted his PC, that meant Ariane hadn’t handed the Chrombindin programme over. Not all of it, in any case. How much did Ted have? Not enough. So Tessa was being used. He had somehow to make certain that she wasn’t harmed either before or after Ted got what he wanted.
‘But you have your own machine.’ Stephen gestured towards the desk.
‘Don’t act the fool with me, Stephen. An exchange. Fair and square. A little black box in return for a loving… very loving wife, safe and sound. Not really much of a bargain on my side.’
Stephen leapt up, turned his back on the man. In a moment, he felt his shoulder in a steely grip.
‘You’re not planning to use the telephone, are you Stephen? Because I’ve just thought of something to make the bargain a little fairer. No police. That goes without saying. And no publicity. No one has to know about this. It’s quite common for two teams to be working in the same direction. A little scientific race. Commonplace. Happens all the time.’
With a surge of effort, Stephen shook off his arm. ‘How do I know Tessa is safe?’
‘You’ll have to take my word for it. Would I hurt such a sweet woman?’
‘And how do I know she’s not in on this with you?’ Stephen veered towards him.
‘Stephen, really! Your own wife. You’ve gotta trust her.’
‘But I don’t trust you, do I? I need to see her first. Hear it from her own lips. See that she’s safe. See that she’s really with you and this
isn’t just a ploy. We don’t need the masks anymore, Ted. Just drop it. I know what you put Ariane up to.’
‘Now, now. You really shouldn’t talk about those two in the same breath.’
Stephen looked at him coldly. ‘You’re the expert.’
‘Maybe I am,’ Ted grinned. ‘And I’m telling you. Tess wants to come back to you.’ He gave Stephen an assessing glance, as if the choice were a mystery to him, then added, relishing his malice, ‘If I let her that is. Despite Ariane.’
‘I need to hear that from her. Otherwise there’s not much point in what you call the exchange, is there?’
‘Guess not.’ Ted scratched his ear. ‘But Stephen, you wouldn’t want to see her hurt, would you?’ he drawled, the threat was on the surface now, the face suddenly brutal. ‘That would be too terrible. Too bad. Really too bad. You couldn’t live with that.’
Stephen didn’t want to look at that face. He studied his glass. ‘My PC is locked up at Jan’s Institute. Needless to say I haven’t got the key. You take me to Tessa and if everything is alright, I’ll ring him and have him meet us there.’
‘Oh no. I don’t want him in on this. No one is to know.’
‘We’ll just pick up the key then. Tessa willing, she and I will walk off and you can let yourself in.’
‘Okay. A deal. But no funny business.’ He put out his hand and unwillingly, Stephen took it, felt the grasp tighten painfully round his fingers. He couldn’t shake it off, felt himself careen forwards at the bigger man’s savage tug. ‘No funny business,’ Ted repeated, a cruel twist to his lips. ‘And you can phone now.’ He released Stephen’s hand, pointed him to the telephone.
Massaging his fingers, Stephen prayed that Jan might be at home. But the phone rang ten, twelve, fifteen times into the void. ‘Not there,’ Stephen mumbled.
‘We’ll just have to wait then. Poor Tess.’
‘I’ll try his wife’s number. He might be there.’
‘No, funny business, remember.’ Ted was standing right beside him.
Stephen dialled Jan’s direct line at the Institute, tried to conjure up the appropriate sentences in Czech which would allow Jan to hand him the key at a little distance from the building. With a moment’s relief, he heard the answering machine click on. He started to talk, hoped Ted could neither hear the beep at the other end nor understand his words.
He looked at his watch. ‘In about an hour?’ he asked Ted.
‘Make it an hour and a half. This damned snow slows everything down.’
Stephen switched to English. ‘Yes Jan. I need to go up to the office. Can you lend me the key? In front of Hanka’s. Yes, downstairs. In an hour and a half. No, no. I need some working time, alone.’
‘Good.’ Ted smiled at him. He was already throwing clothes into a case. ‘And I’ll disappear straight afterwards. If you have any second thoughts about pursuing me, you just ask your sweet wife why it may not be a good idea.’
Beneath the looming bulk of St Nicholas, a lumbering plough made a neat sluice through snow and turned slowly up an incline. The taxi followed its path and came to a halt against a freshly-piled mound half way up the street.
‘Guess, it’s time to greet dear Tess and hear her sing your praises.’ Ted broke the barbed silence.
Stephen was tempted to land a punch on his face, for the sheer delight of it. Soon. He jammed his fists in his pockets, followed him into the building. The buzzer which opened the front door from the inside was on the right, he memorized, the door which led to the staircase about ten paces to the left. At a run, they could be inside the vast expanse of the church in under four minutes. He knew it as well as he knew his lab, could get them through the door that led to the tower and block it in seconds. But the church might be closed. The bar he had seen down the road was probably a better bet. Ted wouldn’t resort to any violence in public. That wasn’t his style. His successes depended on stealth and secrecy. Yes.
Stephen stole a glance at him as they stood in the lift to gauge the truth of his intuitions. The smug smile had settled on Ted’s face again, as if he had just ousted a competitor in some brilliantly devious transaction.
‘I think she’ll be glad to see us. All this has taken somewhat longer than I imagined.’ Ted chuckled.
The chuckle brought beads of perspiration to Stephen’s brow. He had a vision of Tessa tied to a chair, a gag stifling her breath. He bounded out of the lift door as soon as it stopped.
‘No. She’ll be fine. Dreaming about that gypsy child she wants to saddle you with. I wouldn’t stand for it if I were you.’
Stephen stiffened at the tone of male complicity. ‘But you’re not me, are you. Luckily for me.’
‘Take it easy, now.’ Ted’s voice as he unlocked the door with a parcel of keys was low. I don’t only have my fists at my disposal. Though I’d prefer not to have to resort to anything harder.’ He glanced meaningfully at his pocket.
So he was armed. Stephen had suspected as much. No matter. As long as Tessa was alright, they would find a way.
‘Tess…’ Ted’s voice boomed through the brightly-lit apartment, with all the good cheer of a man coming home for dinner. ‘Look whom I’ve brought you.’
From a nether room, there was the sound of voices. So Tessa wasn’t alone. Perhaps she didn’t know anything of Ted’s more nefarious doings. He had enough guile even for that. To whom did this luxurious flat belong?
A burst of music altered the train of Stephen’s scurrying thoughts. A television.
‘Tess,’ Ted called again as he urged Stephen across the room, into a second. ‘Tess.’ His eyes bolted into corners. ‘Now where has she got herself to?’ He picked up the zapper and aimed it at the television with a violent gesture. ‘Tess.’ He was booming now, racing round the flat, opening doors, slamming them, illuminating darkened spaces.
‘Maybe she went for a walk,’ Stephen murmured. He felt a dawning relief.
‘You crazy? No way she could unlock that door unless she’s spent years in the pen. Stupid bitch.’
Ted was angry now, the smiling mask gone along with his self-control, expletives pouring from him as he pulled open closet doors, kitchen cupboards, banged them shut, darted back the way they had come. The gun suddenly emerged from his pocket. Stephen kept himself very still.
And then the noise stopped. Ted was looking towards a window, poised half-open against the night. It swayed slightly on its hinges. ‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ With a single leap, he was up and over the ledge.
Stephen peered out at scaffolding and shadowy darkness.
‘Tess. Tess, get yourself back here. Now.’ Ted’s voice ruptured the stillness of the night. Planks reverberated and clattered with the weight of his steps.
Stephen levered himself softly over the ledge. Tessa would be terrified if she was out there. She had no head for heights. Could he get to her first? He scoured the darkness. Ted had gone to the left, so he looked to the right, searching the shadows. The scaffolding seemed to come to an abrupt end further along the building. No, Ted’s instincts were right.
He stilled his fears and as quietly as he could edged along the scaffolding, keeping close to the wall, away from the glimmer of street lights four floors below. It would be better to be invisible, he schooled himself as he neared the corner.
A gust of wind took him by surprise, a skirmish of blown snow. He darted his head round. An eerie silence had replaced the sound of Ted’s voice and rebounding planks.
With mounting alarm Stephen crept round the corner and along the building’s side. Nothing. He looked for open windows, but within there was only darkness. He hurried now, righted himself as he slipped, pressed on. The wind was heavy here, like the narrow ridge of a canyon banked by sheer black escarpment on either side. Only the snow gleamed with a frail light as it raced towards him. And the spire-studded sky was flushed with a faint pink.
As he neared the second corner, the wind brought with it an eerie peal of high pitched sound. It took him a split-second
to make out the two shadowy figures. A slight form being dragged from some recess in the wall, a fist flailing without reaching its target. A larger figure, in profile, pulling, slapping. He could hear the sound on the wind’s wings, a soft thud, like a shot bird plummeting from sky and hitting the ground.
Stephen raced, kept close to the wall, his head forward, body braced, like in those hateful school football games when he had averted his eyes to players and ball and simply dashed forward, his father’s voice clear to him from the sidelines. ‘Run Stephen, barge, head it. Run.’ Stephen ran, tensed for the collision of body or ball, felt it after an eternity, the butt of hard flesh, throwing him backwards, like in a dream.
‘Heh,’ Ted’s voice, was loud, shocked. There was a scrabble of arms. A fist landed on his jaw with a crack and echoed through his head. The planks clattered. Tessa screamed. He regained his balance saw a flash of teeth, the sudden surprise in Ted’s face, a flap of arms. Heard more screams. And then there was only the body falling, more a vision, a sense of emptiness, than a sight.
-22-
__________
White curtains billowed and flapped against the window-sill sending flitting shadows across the room. A pale globe of a lamp cast the ghostly shape of a head onto an unindented pillow. From the radio came the limpid sound of a single flute, high, crystalline, evoking forests after rain, the cavorting of antique creatures.
Huddled beneath a blanket, Tessa steadied her shaking hand round the glass and forced some more brandy down her throat. The shaking would have to stop soon, though it had been with her for so long now that it seemed to have taken permanent possession of her limbs. It wasn’t only a question of cold, though it had started with the cold. How long ago now? She glanced at her watch, held her wrist still so that she could read the time. Four, five hours. Clock time had become meaningless.
She replayed the skirmish and tumble of scenes, tried to steady them in her mind, but like her hands they shook and trembled and collided, refusing steadiness. She had perched in that boarded-up recess of a window, shielding herself from wind, learning the symmetry of roofs and spires and dense sky, denying thought, and growing colder and colder. Over and over, she told herself that if she stayed quiet until dawn, everything would be all right. The workmen would come with their ladders. People would fill the streets. What she couldn’t do was go back into that flat and find herself at Ted’s mercy.
The Things We Do For Love Page 36