The Hostage Heart

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  “You think he’s the brains behind this?” Mr Akroyd asked. “Why? Has he done this sort of thing before?”

  “Not kidnapping, no. Fraud, protection, gun-running, large-scale burglary, he’s had his fingers in all of them. But he’s always been one for elaborate plans – that’s what lets him down. And snatching a little kid who couldn’t fight back would be just up his alley. It’d look like easy money; and he’s getting to the age when he’ll be wanting to go for the big one and retire on the proceeds to Argentina. They all dream of it, your ‘master criminals’.” He invested the words with a world of contempt. “Moreover, he’s a local lad, grew up in Thetford, first got into trouble as a teenager knocking off stuff from the base at Lakenheath. So he knows the area. All in all, I’m confident he’s our man, all right.”

  On the evidence, Gavin was inclined to agree with him. “So, if it is this man, do you think – I mean, he doesn’t sound too dangerous?” he said hopefully. “He’s not likely to do anything violent, is he?”

  Moss’s face grew grave. “I don’t want to frighten you. But I wouldn’t want you to think this man’s a soft option. No, he’s a cold-blooded bastard, like all these habituals; and the only violence he’d want to avoid is violence to himself. He’s dangerous all right.” He made an obvious effort to be cheerful. “But we’ll get him, don’t you worry.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gavin had pored over the map so often that its details were now engraved on his mind. The area they had now marked down as likely was a fairly unpopulated one, most of it in the Thetford Forest and the Hockwold fens: woodland, scrub and bog, a few scattered villages and farms and very few roads.

  “It’s narrowing down very nicely,” Superintendent Moss said. “Obviously their hideout has got to be an isolated house, where they can come and go without being seen. Nosy neighbours would be no good to them. You can’t shift two struggling prisoners up the front path of a council estate semi without being noticed.”

  “True,” said Gavin.

  “And that gives us about ten possibles. It’s a matter of having a look at them and making discreet enquiries.” He tapped the map thoughtfully. “Meanwhile, of course, we’ve got other lines to follow up.”

  “I suppose you mean Emma’s past history?” Gavin said hotly. His father snapped an enquiring look at him, which was not lost on the Superintendent.

  “Oh, we’ve gone into that, sir,” Moss said easily. “Talked to her flat-mates, her previous headmistress, and her mum and dad. Well, we’d have had to let them know what’d happened anyway. Pretty upset, they are. Seem very nice people. Not what you’d expect.”

  “What does that mean?” Gavin snapped.

  “Oh, nothing against the girl,” Moss said. “No, she checks out clean as a whistle. But it’s a long way from where she started to a place like this.” He waved his hand to indicate the handsome house and large park, taking in by implication the antiques, paintings, servants, cars and stables on the way.

  Mr Akroyd, still watching Gavin’s face, said quietly, “Come to that, Superintendent, it’s a long way from where I started to a place like this.”

  The Superintendent coughed. “Quite so, Mr Akroyd. Yes, indeed. Well,” he went on hastily, “if it wasn’t Miss Ruskin, and it wasn’t any of the servants – which we’re pretty sure it wasn’t – I’m at a bit of a loss to know who the inside contact was. I don’t suppose either of you has any further suggestions?”

  Mr Akroyd shook his head; Gavin’s face was a careful blank.

  The day dragged by. On one of Andy’s visits, Emma tried to get talking to him, hoping perhaps to get him onto their side.

  “What are you doing mixed up in something like this? You don’t seem such a bad bloke, really,” she said.

  He looked at her unsmilingly. “Thank you very much, princess,” he said. “Whajjer think I’m in it for? The money, of course. That’s what we all want, ennit?”

  “Don’t you have any conscience about it?”

  He eyed her derisively. “What do you care if her old man has to flog a few shares to get her back? Why should he have money and me none?”

  Poppy looked up fiercely at that. “My father earned that money! He started off with nothing and earned every penny of it! What’ve you ever done?”

  He only laughed at her. “Go it, Arry mate! What I done is I got you. I don’t want you – he does. He’s got money. I ain’t. Fair swap, ennit?”

  “You won’t get away with it!” Poppy cried.

  He grew bored with the conversation. “Oh shut your mouth! You talk too much, both of you,” he said, waving his gun at them idly. “I’ll give you a friendly warning – keep it zipped when the Boss comes to see you. He ain’t a patient man like me. If you start rabbitting on at him like that, you might get something you don’t like.”

  “Is he coming to see us?” Emma asked, suddenly afraid.

  Andy saw her fear, and grinned, enjoying it. “Yeah, later today. Summink to look forward to, ain’t it, princess?”

  The Boss’s visit was short and chilling.

  “We haven’t had the response we wanted from the kid’s dad,” he said without preamble. “I’m afraid he’s not taking us seriously, so we’re going to have to send him a little something to concentrate his mind. Andy?” He held out his hand for the gun. Andy passed it over and then pulled something out from his pocket. There was a click, and a thin, viciously sharp blade appeared in his hand. He started to approach them, and Poppy screamed and flung herself into Emma’s arms.

  “No!” Emma cried, clutching the child against her. Poppy started sobbing with terror. “Don’t you touch her, you monster!”

  “Shaddap!” the Boss shouted. “Bloody women! Shut your noise. He wants a bit of her hair, that’s all. Let her go. Get to the other end of the bed where I can see you. Move it, or I’ll put one through your leg and see how you like that. Move it, I say! I’ve got no brief to keep you in one piece.”

  Reluctantly, keeping one eye on Andy and the other on the gun, Emma detached Poppy’s arms from her neck. The child sobbed louder, and Andy suddenly said, “It’s all right, kid. I only want a bit of your hair. Tell her, princess.”

  In terror the two of them watched the glittering blade approach Poppy’s head; Emma knew there was nothing she could do to protect her, and yet every instinct screamed at her to fight. Andy grabbed a loose hank of Poppy’s hair. Poppy screamed again. The knife flashed, and then Andy was stepping back with the knife in one hand and a hank of thin blonde hair in the other. Poppy began to sob again, but at a lower pitch, putting her hands up to her head. Emma gathered her in again, watching the two men like a cornered fox.

  The Boss surveyed the two of them with eyes of utter cold indifference. “This goes in the second letter. If there has to be a third letter, it won’t be hair, it’ll be a finger.”

  Poppy cried out, and pressed so hard against Emma, it was as if she were trying to burrow her way in. Emma folded her arms round the child’s head fiercely. “Go away! Leave us alone!” she cried uselessly. The two men went, locking the door as always, but she could not think it was on her command. When they were alone again, she and Poppy both burst into tears; and cried their eyes out for ten minutes or more, after which they curled up together on the bed and fell into an uneasy doze.

  Zara looked up as Gavin came into her room. She was pale, nervous and distinctly guilty, and she took refuge in attack as the best form of defence. “Can’t you knock? Get out of here. This is my own private room.”

  “You can talk to me here, or you can talk to me in front of Dad – take your pick,” he said, closing the door and standing in front of it with his arms folded.

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” she snapped. “Get out.”

  “Zara, you know something about this. I know you do. I’ve known you all your life, and you’ve got guilt written all over you. Now you tell me what it is, or I go to Dad, and he and the police can get it out of you.”

  “I don’
t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her eyes slid away from him.

  He let his voice soften a little. “Don’t be a little idiot. For God’s sake, they’ve got Poppy! Your own sister. I don’t expect you to care particularly what happens to Emma—”

  Zara’s eyes flashed. “Oh, Emma is it now? That little tramp’s had her eye on you since the minute she arrived. I knew what her game was the moment I saw her—”

  Gavin crossed the room in three swift strides and grabbed Zara by the upper arms, and shook her. “It’s your game I’m interested in! What do you know about this business?”

  “Nothing! Let me go!” She tried to turn her face away from him, but he grabbed her jaw and turned it back.

  “Look at me! Tell me!”

  “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t know what he wanted,” she said, her eyes darting. She saw his expression change and grew genuinely frightened. “It was a bit of fun, that’s all. We went to this club—”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Vic and Nat and me.”

  “What club?”

  “Bunter’s. In Cambridge. It was just a bit of fun.”

  An expression of distaste crossed his face. He knew Bunter’s – loud, noisy, and filled with rough youths and sluttish girls. “Slumming,” he said in a flat voice. He let her go. “I suppose that gives you a thrill.”

  “You needn’t look like that,” she said, rubbing her arms where he had gripped her. “It’s something different to do, that’s all. It’s all right for you – you’re a man. I never have any fun. I’m always supposed to go out with ‘nice’ boys. Well, nice boys are boring, let me tell you. And stuck away here in the middle of nowhere, it had to be nice boys, ’cos they’re the only ones who have cars.”

  “That’s why you kept nagging at Dad for a car,” Gavin said. “I knew it was a bad idea.”

  “Well, I got one, anyway, so there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “How did you get to the club before?”

  “Vic’s dad’s car. Well, he never knew. He was never bloody well there.”

  “Don’t swear. You’re just adding to your sins.”

  “Sins!” she jeered.

  “And crimes. Driving without insurance, and without the owner’s permission. I don’t suppose you’d want the police to know about that.”

  “I’d only get a fine,” she muttered, “and Mummy’d pay it.”

  “Tell me about this man,” Gavin said. His eyes were cold and remote, and they frightened her rather. “What was his name?”

  “Billy Metcalf. I met him at the club. He came up to me, said was I Zara Akroyd. He said he’d seen my photo in Country Life.”

  “When was this?”

  “Ages ago, the first time. Last year – September or October. I – I didn’t like him at first. He was a bit of a tough, if you want to know. But there was something about him. Kind of scary. He wasn’t like the dorky men we usually get to meet. He bought us drinks, and we danced a bit, and he chatted. Then he asked if he could drive me home, and I said no. And that was that.”

  “Go on.”

  “The next time was a couple of weeks later. He came up to me again, like before; then I started bumping into him at other places. Well, I was bored stiff so I let him hang around with me. Vic and Nat were wild about him. They said they betted he was a crim. I kept asking if he had any friends for them. But actually, it wasn’t as exciting as they thought. Mostly he wanted to talk, about the house, and Mummy, and what Dad did, and all that kind of thing. He never even wanted to fool around or anything. He only kissed me once, and that was—” She paused, remembering it. It had not been pleasant, not romantic or sexy or anything. He had kissed her as if he knew she was expecting it and it simply amused him to give her something she wanted, but that he knew she wouldn’t like. It was a kiss like an insult.

  Gavin could see it all. “And when did you bring him here?”

  She flushed. “Just before Easter. Dad was in Sunderland and you’d gone to Exeter about that legal case, and Mummy was taking Poppy to see the specialist in London, and Mrs H went up with them so there was nobody here. Billy’d been on at me for ages to take him to my home. He told me to let him know when there’d be no one around – gave me a telephone number. I thought he wanted—” Her blush deepened. Gavin’s lips tightened. “Well, anyway,” she went on, “he didn’t want anything like that. He wanted to see over the house. I showed him everything. He was really interested. He seemed to know a lot about buildings and stuff.” She caught Gavin’s expression and hurried on. “And he asked about my birthday party as well. Wanted to know every detail of what was going to happen on the day. I thought—” her eyes suddenly filled with tears, “I thought he was going to buy me a birthday present, something really expensive. I hinted like mad for a few things I fancied and he seemed to take it in. He said – he said he was planning a real surprise for me. I knew I’d never be allowed to invite him officially, so I told him how he could get in through the boot room. I said if he wore a DJ no one’d know.”

  “Oh my God, Zara!”

  She gulped. “But after that visit I never saw him again, and when I rang the number he’d given me, it was discontinued. And then when the police said there must have been inside information for the kidnapping, I realised—”

  Gavin closed his eyes wearily. “You’ve behaved like an absolute idiot, you know that.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” she said with spirit. “It’s all right for you, you can do what you like. I’m always told I can’t do this and I can’t do that. Everyone’s on my back. I never have any fun. I just wanted a bit of fun.”

  Gavin held his tongue. There was no point in telling her off. It was done now. “You’ll have to come and tell all this to Superintendent Moss.”

  “No! It’s my own private business.”

  “Yes! You fool, don’t you see if they can find this Billy Metcalf, he can lead them to the kidnappers?” Still she resisted. “If you don’t come this instant,” he said in a hard voice, “I’ll carry you down there.”

  She got up sulkily. “Are you going to tell Dad?”

  “He’ll have to know. But at the moment, he’s only interested in getting Poppy back.”

  She managed one last sneer. “And your precious Emma.”

  “I hope so. Oh God, I hope so.”

  “We’ve got him,” Superintendent Moss said, putting down the phone. “He was hanging around one of his usual haunts. So confident we’d never find out he had anything to do with it, he didn’t even go into hiding. He’s an old friend of Harry James – if ‘friend’ is the right word. Anyway, he’s been to see him a few times at Blundeston. The way I see it, he stumbled on Zara at this club, realised who she was, and cultivated her friendship while he told Harry about it and waited for him to work out some way of using the contact.”

  “You still think Harry James is the master-mind?”

  “Oh yes. Billy Metcalf is no thinker. His part was to provide the initial information; and I suspect he was watching the drop site as well, so he could tell James when the money was there.” Moss rubbed his hands with satisfaction. “Now we’ve just got to get out of him where the hideout is.”

  “Let me have ten minutes alone with him, and I’ll get it out of him,” Mr Akroyd growled.

  “If we were allowed to use those methods, we’d get it out of him ourselves,” Moss said. “Unfortunately there’s such a thing as the PACE Act. But we’ll put the pressure on him other ways.”

  “Meanwhile, we sit here and twiddle our thumbs?” Mr Akroyd said. “That second letter—”

  Moss looked sympathetic. “Yes, it’s an unusual situation. Kidnappers generally like to talk about it on the ’phone, and that gives you a chance to argue. Doing it by post is most unusual, and it ties our hands a bit. We can’t tell them we’re getting the money but it’ll take time, or demand proof that the hostages are still all right, or any of the usual dodges to keep them busy. But that takes nerve on their side.
Gentleman Jim must be very confident this time. We’ve got to find them, to be able to take any action—”

  “Well, find them!” Akroyd suddenly shouted. “Bloody find them!”

  “We’re doing our best, sir,” Moss said courteously.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Gavin said tentatively. “About where the hideout might be.”

  The Superintendent looked up receptively. “Let’s have it, then.”

  It was early in the morning. No one had slept. Billy Metcalf certainly hadn’t, but he was still resisting the questioning.

  “I was going over the map again,” Gavin went on, spreading it out on the table, “and thinking, how would these people have got hold of a house? It would have to have been for sale or to let, and if they’ve only been planning it since October, they couldn’t have banked on the right sort of house just happening to come empty at the right time.”

  “Go on,” Moss nodded.

  “There’s a place, about here—” He put his finger down on the map. “I know it from my riding expeditions. It’s a house called Sparlings.” Moss looked down, and then up, enquiringly. “No, it’s not marked. It was empty for years because it was supposed to be haunted, and then the Forestry Commission bought the land and the house with it, and it’s just been let go. I don’t know what condition it’s in now, but when I last saw it, about a year ago, or a bit more, it was still in reasonable shape. I mean, it had a roof and walls and doors, though most of the windows were broken. You could live in it, if you weren’t too particular. There wouldn’t be any electricity or water, of course, but it had a well in the garden, and a person could always take a camp stove to boil the water on.”

  “Hmm,” Moss pondered. “And Harry James is a local man …”