Death Run

by Jack Higgins

  “Well, maybe someone should find out.”

  “I think it might be best if you leave this to us,” Ardman said. “Why don’t you take a bit of time out. We’re pretty central here – get some air. Do a museum or the shops or something. But don’t get involved.”

  “You mean kick my heels while you drink coffee and do nothing?”

  “We’re doing all we can,” said Dad. “I think Ardman’s right. You need to clear your head and cool off. Try to see what is possible and what isn’t, OK?”

  She was getting nowhere here, Jade thought. She might as well get out. Do… something – anything. But she had no idea what. Not until Dad went on:

  “And leave it to us, all right? The last thing we need right now is you charging off on some daft rescue mission. That’s the sort of crazy thing Dex Halford would do. But I know you’re clever enough to realise it would do no good.”

  The door closed behind Jade and there was silence for several moments.

  Ardman smiled. “It’s risky, but I think that was very nicely done.”

  “Thank you,” said Chance. “I just wish there was something else we can do. She’s right – we just talk. Our hands are tied.”

  “I wonder if she realised we want her to go?”

  “But I don’t want her to go. Though I doubt I can stop her, and we don’t have any other options. I just hope she has the sense to let Halford take the lead. He’ll at least be cautious until we can get a full team up there.”

  Ardman’s phone rang. He listened for a moment, then turned to Chance. “Maybe we aren’t so helpless after all. Eleri Fendelmann has regained consciousness. Let’s see what she can tell us.”

  From the battlements, Rich could see there was a wooden jetty outside the main gates of the castle. Beside it, a cobbled roadway sloped gently down into the sea. Perhaps long ago the castle had been on a hill, but the sea had risen or the ground had subsided until it became an island. Or maybe the ‘road’ was just an old slipway for boats before the jetty was built.

  Rich’s best bet now was to try to get a message out. He might get lucky and find a phone, in which case he had to hope that, “I’m in a castle on an island” was more help than just, “I’m in a castle”. He could try to signal to the mainland somehow. But there was no sign of life and it could be anywhere. What language did they speak, even? Failing that, it was message in a bottle time. But for the moment, Rich decided to explore.

  There were two armed guards close to the main gates. Another patrolling the walkway round the battlements. But all their attention was focused outside the castle, keeping a lookout for boats or helicopters. No one knew that Rich was even there, which made it easier to keep out of sight. But he knew that if he was spotted he’d be locked up with the Banker if he was lucky, or on his own in a bleak stone-walled cell if he wasn’t. No, he decided – if he wasn’t lucky he’d be chucked in the sea.

  With that thought in mind, he ducked back inside and made his cautious way along one corridor after another. Eventually, he found a stone staircase. Up would take him to more rooms and eventually to the top of the tower he was in. Down might be more useful.

  He could feel a draught on his face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. This part of the castle seemed unused. There were no lights, just the sun filtering round a single wooden door. Rich reckoned he was at the back of the castle, the other side from the main gates. He peered through the crack between the door and its frame and he could see the sunlight on the water.

  The door was locked, but it was neglected and rotten. A good kick and the lock broke away from the wood. The door creaked open and Rich found himself outside. There was a narrow strip of paving, then a drop of about ten metres to the sea below. Rich sat on the edge of the paved area, dangling his feet over the drop. The breeze and the spray on his face were refreshing. With the view over the water, Rich could almost believe he was back in Venice. Except it was bitterly cold.

  He looked up and realised that anyone on the top of the castle tower above would have to lean right over the battlements to see him. He might not have found a way to escape or send a message, but at least here – for the moment – he was safe.

  She was propped up in bed in a private hospital room. A saline drip was plugged into the back of her hand, held in place with surgical tape. Ardman had brought flowers and a nurse had arranged them in a vase.

  When he and Chance were alone with the woman, Ardman explained briefly who he was and what had happened to the Banker.

  “Poor father,” she said weakly. “Do you know where he is?”

  “We have a good idea,” Ardman said. He glanced at Chance before adding, “Someone is on the way. We’ll know soon.”

  “You are sure it is the Tiger who has him?” Concern as well as pain were clear in her expression.

  “I’m afraid it seems very likely. He’ll want the account numbers and access codes that your father has.”

  Eleri struggled to sit up more. Chance reached across to help her.

  “But he doesn’t,” she said, almost in tears. “He can’t tell them anything. Father only knows half the information. It was always that way. As a precaution. If either of us was captured or taken hostage, they could not tell where the money is or how to get it.”

  “He must know,” Chance said. “There must be some way of finding out. I mean – what if one of you was hit by a bus? And how do you access the money when your clients want it?”

  “It’s automated. The computer system knows the account numbers, but they are encrypted. We have passwords to get into the system. But then we each have to enter our own personal codes. Of course we have a back-up. The accounts and codes never change. There is a master list, somewhere safe. Somewhere only my father and I know about. Somewhere that no one would ever guess to look.”

  “Well,” said Ardman slowly, “I know you’ve been to a lot of trouble to protect the information. But that information is a condition of our helping you and your father to start a new life. We need to know. If you can’t tell us the accounts and codes, then you have to tell us where that list is kept.”

  Eleri bit her lip, but nodded. “I understand. That was the deal. We give you the information and you freeze the accounts.”

  “So?” Chance prompted.

  “The information is all kept in a secure bank vault in Zurich.”

  Chance had his mobile out already. “Name of the bank?”

  “Doesn’t matter. It isn’t there any more. I took the list and I brought it with me. That was my agreement with my father. Once I was certain he was safe and you were keeping to our agreement, I would bring the list and also diamonds we had kept for emergencies. I took it from Zurich after I left Venice, when I was sure you were not double-crossing my father.”

  Chance nodded. “That was just a little misunderstanding with some old friends. Quite unrelated.”

  “So you brought the list here?” Ardman said. “You mean, you have it with you?”

  “The Tiger’s men found me. Followed me. I tried to get to Father to warn him and to get him and the list to you. You know what happened at the school.”

  “But where is this list now?”

  She looked up at them, eyes wide and moist. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I had it when I arrived at the school. And no one would guess. The account numbers and access codes that you need, that the Tiger is so desperate to get hold of, are laser-etched into a large diamond, actually burned into the heart of it. Almost invisible to the naked eye, unless you know to look for them. But they will show up easily with a magnifying glass.”

  “Let’s hope the Tiger hasn’t already got it,” Chance said.

  “Or if he has, that he doesn’t realise the significance of that diamond,” Ardman agreed. “If he gets that data, he could empty every account. Whereas if we get it, we can back-trace the funds and round up criminals and terrorists across the world.”

  “And if neither of us gets it?” Chance wondered.

  �
�Then the money will simply stay where it is,” Eleri said. “You won’t be able to freeze the accounts, but you won’t need to. No one else will be able to get at the funds, ever.”

  “We can’t risk the Tiger getting that diamond. Under the circumstances,” Ardman said, “let us hope the diamond is lost forever.”

  A large wave crashed down on the rocks below, sending spray splashing into Rich’s face. It was cold and salty. He would have to move soon or he’d freeze.

  Rich pulled a hanky from his pocket to wipe the water from his face. Something caught the light as it fell from his handkerchief and clinked across the top of the sea wall where he was sitting.

  The diamond sparkled as it bounced and spun. Rich grabbed for it, almost caught it, knocked it further – right to the edge. The diamond bounced again – and fell over the edge.

  Rich lunged and just managed to get his fingers to it. Fumbled, almost dropped it. His heart was thumping as he held tight to the diamond. So close, He had forgotten he even had it and then, for an awful moment, he’d thought the diamond would fall into the sea and be lost forever.

  18

  She didn’t spot him until the tube station. There was a train just about to leave as Jade came on to the platform. The doors were bleeping to warn they were closing and Jade jumped on just in time.

  A man she had not noticed must have been close behind her. He managed to get his shoulder between the doors as they closed. The doors opened again and the man smiled an apology at the other passengers. No one said anything. The train pulled away. The man moved down the carriage, avoiding Jade’s eye.

  And she knew he was following her. Ardman must have sent him. Or possibly Sir Lionel. She sneaked glances at the man as he seemed to read the paper. But she caught the occasional quick look in her direction as he turned the pages. He was average-height, average-looking, not young but not old… Just the sort of person they would pick – someone she wouldn’t normally glance at twice or think anything of.

  How could she get rid of him? After listening to Ardman arguing that they should do nothing to help Rich and the banker, she didn’t want him keeping tabs on her. The thought of Rich brought an unexpected tear to Jade’s eye and she wiped her sleeve across her face. What was Rich doing – was he all right? What would he do if he were here with her? Something clever. He’d have a plan. He’d know exactly how to get rid of this man – he’d have it all worked out. The teachers were right – she needed to be more like Rich.

  The underground train pulled into another station. Jade was standing closer to the doors than the man. She moved aside to let people off. She stepped out of the train on to the platform to make way for a woman carrying a sleeping toddler. She could see through the window that the man was getting up ready to follow, so she got back on the train and saw him relax and return to his paper.

  Then as the doors started to close, Jade stepped out of the train again. She ran back down the platform, not looking to see if the man was following. If he wasn’t quick enough, the train would leave and she would have lost him. But if he got to the doors again…

  The doors finished closing, and almost at once opened again. I can do this all day, Jade thought. As she passed the next carriage, the doors closed again. And Jade nipped quickly between them – back on to the train. He wasn’t so fast that time. She saw him screwing his newspaper between his hands in frustration. She smiled and waved. He did not wave back.

  Jade got off at the next station. As soon as she was above ground she rang Dex Halford on her mobile. The number was busy. She waited as long as she could bear and tried again.

  “Halford.”

  Jade breathed a sigh of relief. “Dex – it’s Jade. I need some help. Can we meet?”

  She was surprised to hear him laughing at the other end of the phone. “Yes, just tell me where.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing. I’d just put down the phone that’s all. It was your dad. He said you might call.”

  Rich was cold. Despite the situation, he was bored. He pulled his school blazer tight round him. Here he was, sitting looking out over the sea, trapped in a castle on a tiny island guarded by men with guns, and he was bored.

  He’d already decided there was no way off the island. He wasn’t going to try to swim for it. He’d seen how far it was to the shore, through the icy water. And even if he made it, he could be anywhere. He might still be miles – hundreds of miles even – from civilisation. He couldn’t fly the helicopter and he was unarmed so there was no point attempting a hijack. The only other option was a boat. That sounded good – he’d seen the jetty outside the main gates. But there was no boat there and maybe never would be.

  So, he could kick his legs and wait till he froze or got hungry or needed the toilet. Or he could – what? What could he do? What would Jade do?

  She’d probably lose it completely, throw caution to the wind and trash the place. Rich smiled to himself at the idea. But maybe he should take a leaf out of her book. It would distract and annoy Bannock and his heavies, and perhaps if he caused enough trouble, someone on the mainland would see there was a problem and send in help…

  Had to be better than sitting around getting cold.

  It didn’t take Jade long to explain the situation to Halford, and he suggested they meet at Heathrow.

  “We’ll get a flight up to Inverness. Have to drive from there.”

  Jade didn’t hide her gratitude and relief that he didn’t argue – he just assumed that they were going to Calder to find and rescue Rich.

  Dex Halford was a friend of Jade’s dad. She and Rich both knew him well – he had helped them get to Krejikistan to rescue Dad, and he had introduced them to Ralph. Halford had been with Dad in the SAS, though neither of them spoke much about it. The most Jade knew was that Dad had carried the wounded Halford out of a firefight behind enemy lines in Afghanistan. Halford had lost his leg from the wound, but if you didn’t know you would think he just had a slight limp.

  “I know from experience I can’t talk you out of coming,” Halford said. “So I won’t waste my breath trying. I’d do better to spend the time thinking about how to tell your dad you came too. Got your passport?”

  “Er, no,” Jade confessed. “I didn’t think I’d need it.”

  “You’ll need a photo ID for the flight,” Halford told her down the phone. “But don’t worry. I’ll sort something out.”

  Rich followed his nose. His stomach was rumbling as he could smell bacon cooking. It occurred to him he’d not eaten since lunch the previous day. Since he was heading for the kitchen anyway…

  There would be all sorts of useful things in the kitchen. Not just knives – though Rich doubted he could bring himself to use one in anger. But if there was bacon as well, then that was a bonus.

  The kitchen was in the basement under one of the massive towers – there were four of them, one at each corner of the castle. There was no reason to suppose the kitchen would be guarded, but Rich approached cautiously. He could hear the clatter of metal pans and someone whistling.

  A chef, in white uniform and tall hat, was busy at a large cooker. Rich watched from the shadows outside the door as the chef went about his business. Rich didn’t recognise the man, but he could be one of the gunmen who had been at the school – if he saw Rich in his crumpled school uniform, he might raise the alarm.

  The chef was done. He had a plate ready on a tray and loaded it with fried bread, scrambled egg, sausage and bacon. Rich was about ready to knock the man down and grab the food. But he forced himself to wait. Sure enough, the chef put a metal cover over the plate, then took the tray and left.

  As soon as the chef was gone, Rich went into the kitchen. He waited just inside the door, listening in case there was anyone else here. But the place was silent and still. There was no bacon or sausage left in the pan, but Rich found a fridge and helped himself to bread and ham.

  He found a small, sharp knife – which might come in handy for cutting through
ropes or material. He found a half empty bottle of white wine in the fridge and took out the cork. He pushed the thin blade of the knife into the cork until the sharp edge was completely covered, then put it in his blazer pocket.

  More immediately useful was a large metal drum of cooking oil and a box of matches. Rich stuffed the matches into his pocket as well. The drum was empty enough that he could carry it, though the outside was slippery where oil had spilled. Before he left, Rich turned on all the gas taps on the hob.

  The higher up he was the better, Rich decided. It was tricky getting the heavy drum of oil up the stairs. He paused frequently to listen for the sounds of anyone coming and because he needed to rest. At one point he froze as he heard footsteps from the floor above. But the steps continued on, not coming down the stairs.

  Eventually, Rich was on the top floor. He rolled the drum along the carpeted corridor. Viscous cooking oil was leaking out round the cap, but that didn’t matter. The first room Rich tried was a bedroom. There was a phone on the cabinet by the bed. When Rich listened, there was a tone, but no matter what he dialled he got nothing more. So he ripped the cord out of the wall and dumped the phone on the bed.

  The next room was another bedroom, but the bed was unmade. There was a book on the cabinet by the bed and another phone. He ripped out the phone, tossed the book under the bed and moved on.

  An empty room with a window looking out at the distant mainland was the best option, he decided. Leaning out of the window, he could see the empty wooden jetty and the cobbled causeway underneath him. He must be right over the main gates. Rich left the drum of oil in the middle of the room and went back to the nearest bedroom to grab sheets and blankets. There was a magazine about cars by the bed, so he took that too.

  Rich piled the blankets on the floor, the sheets on top. After some thought, he moved the pile close to the window and trailed the sheets out of it. They billowed in the breeze and one nearly escaped and blew away. He wrapped them through the window hinges until they were secure. He tore the pages from the magazine, poking them in between the folds of the blankets so that the edges were still visible. Then he emptied the drum of oil over the blankets.