by John Gubert
She was pale and there were tears in her eyes. On the one hand she’d been shot and on the other she was facing up to the implications of the kidnap. He checked her out. The bullet wound was not as inconsequential as she’d made out. She’d lost a lot of blood.
He called over Claire, “They’re not going to come back for us. Try to bandage Jacqui up quickly. I’ll get the car keys and my papers, and things. We’ll follow them in the estate. I guess it’ll take four or five minutes for them to change the wheel.”
He rushed upstairs and grabbed some clothes. There was a holdall in the bedroom and he stuffed it with some spare kit and ammunition. He grabbed his passport and wallet. They might head to the airport. Gatwick was only ten miles or so away.
He took out the mobile and dialled Maria. At the second ring, she answered. “We have problems,” he said without a greeting. “Juliet’s been kidnapped. Jacqui’s been injured. Nothing serious but she needs a doctor. She got a bullet in the shoulder. Get here now. Come armed. It’s the usual routine. Claire and I will get in touch. Don’t contact Di Maglio until I tell you to.”
She didn’t query anything. She just said, “OK, be careful.” He rang off and ran downstairs. The whole process had taken moments. He called to Claire to get clothes, papers and more ammunition. She ran upstairs at his instruction. He told Jacqui what he’d done.
“Wait for Maria. Don’t let anyone else in. Keep the mobile operating and we’ll contact you.”
She nodded. He kissed her briefly and headed to the garden. He peered through the hedge. There were still voices there. They appeared to have changed the wheel and were lowering the car. They would still need to tighten the nuts. They weren’t that good at this. They had given them time.
Claire appeared next to him. She had put on a pair of trainers like him. Otherwise, she had just stuffed things into a small bag. He passed her the keys. “Open the garage. Get into the car, but don’t start the engine. You’ll see them drive away. Start as soon as they are round the corner. They won’t hear you then. But I don’t want them to see us following them. Drive to the road without lights, in the meantime I’ll cause a diversion.”
Claire slipped away and he thought he heard her gently open the garage door. The people in the car made no sign of having noticed anything unusual. They had dumped their damaged tyre in the middle of the road and were throwing the tools into the boot. As they jumped in and started the engine, Charles moved forward. He waited till they were close to the bend and then fired at them. He aimed wide. His purpose was not to stop them. It was to make them think that the shots were the final act of despair of a loser.
In reality, there was no sense in stopping them. If he disabled their car, they could well hurt Juliet and perhaps just hijack his. He had been surprised they hadn’t done that in the first place. Then he had realised why. They needed their own car. They must be catching the ferry to France. If they had pre-booked the tickets, they would have had to give details of their car. The last thing they would want would be an inquisitive official looking at Juliet. Not that they believed Charles would call the police. They expected that he would seek help from his contacts, whether Di Maglio or someone else. They, in turn, would alert the borders. Unless they got Juliet onto the boat quickly and smoothly, they would be in trouble.
Claire was turning into the road and Charles ran to the car, grabbing his bag, which he had thrown to the ground. He jumped in. “Go down the lane. It leads to the main London to Brighton road. I’m pretty sure they’ll head south towards Brighton and then turn onto the road for Newhaven. There must be an early morning ferry. They’ll be heading for France.”
Claire drove through the pitch-black night down the lane. The clouds had thickened and the rain became more persistent. They still kept their lights off. They couldn’t see any lights ahead of them. The road was winding. He still wanted to play safe. If they were seen, they would be lost.
He grabbed the phone and dialled a London number. A voice answered, “This is the Rossi residence.”
“Is that you Douglas?”
“Yes Mr Charles.” The voice was soft but precise. Douglas and his wife looked after the house in London. Douglas was butler, chauffeur, handyman, gardener and, in many ways, confidant. He knew little about their business dealings, indeed, they would have bored him. But he was aware of their personal affairs. He knew who Jacqui was. He knew Charles’ background. And he knew all about Jack Ryder and his chequered past. He was totally loyal. There was a bond between them that assured that.
“We have a problem. Juliet’s been kidnapped. We can’t go to the police. If we do, they’ll kill her, dump her body and disappear. We need to sort this out ourselves. Nobody must know about it. But I need a car. It has to be fast and it needs to be at Dieppe for the next ferry to leave Newhaven. I don’t know when that is, but it’s the next one to leave from now.”
He answered the question. “There is bound to be one between five and six. The crossing takes three hours. With France an hour ahead that would mean you’ll arrive around nine or ten. They time the early departure to allow people to make Paris for lunchtime. That tallies.”
“I want you to get a helicopter and fly to Dieppe. Call Mackenzie and he’ll fix you up. Hire a fast car there for us and a little folding motor bike for yourself. You should be able to get the bike into the car.
Park the car next to the port exit. Leave it open and put the keys under the visor. Leave it in a place where all the drivers from the ferry will pass. We’ll find it. Look out for us. We’ll be on foot.
And look out for a Mercedes. It’s dark blue. It’ll most likely have two men and a woman in it. The woman will be Juliet’s nanny. Juliet will be in it but I doubt you’d see her. If we are not at the car yet, follow it on the bike. You’ll only be able to keep up with it till it leaves the town. But you’ll then know which road it took. We need to know that. If you have to follow it, call me on the mobile. Once we have made contact and I tell you, you can return the bike and head back to London in the helicopter. Hire both the car and the bike in a false name. You know where the spare papers are. Now, get going. But call the house in an hour. We may still have to abort if we got it wrong.”
“I’ll see you in Dieppe, or wherever, Mr Charles.”
Claire was still driving down the lane while all this took place. She drove fast and well. He looked at her. Her blonde hair was damp and dishevelled. It fell over her shoulders and forward over her forehead. Her face was pale without make-up, but her flawless skin appeared to glow in the shadows of the night. The top of her track suit was undone, and, as she was leaning slightly forward to concentrate on the road, he could see the outline of her half-uncovered breasts. Her feet were bare in her trainers, which were muddy from the garden.
He glanced down at himself and wondered if they should tidy up before trying to get onto the ferry; otherwise, it would look as if they had suddenly taken flight for some reason. His jeans were muddy, his shirt was undone and he could feel the cold air. They looked too scruffy. They had no coats or jackets. In mid-winter they were dressed for the summer. And they would need to dump the car. The reason Charles had arranged for transport in Dieppe was simple. If the nanny saw the car, she could recognise it. There mightn’t be many people on board the ferry at this time of year. It would be easier to conceal themselves as foot passengers. They would dump the car at the port.
He dialled again on the mobile. He got through to Maria, “Where are you?”
“I’m just heading out of London. I have a doctor with me. He’ll do all the necessary. He’s trustworthy. I should be down there in about half an hour or so now.”
“Jacqui is alone in the house. Claire and I are chasing the kidnappers. Keep the lines open. We’re going to need to have you around.”
He then dialled again. This time he got the house. The phone rang two or three times. His heart stopped when nobody replied. Then he heard Jacqui’s voice.
“How are you
?”
“I’m a bit drowsy. It hurts. It’s a burning sort of feeling. Where are you?”
“We’re trying to track the kidnappers. I think they’re heading for France. We’ve made arrangements. Maria will be with you in half an hour or so. She’s coming with a doctor.”
“I have locked myself in. The front door is damaged. I’m upstairs. I doubt anyone will intrude but I thought I better be careful as I’m not exactly on top form.”
“Where are you? Can you see the front of the house?”
I am in the guest room. That gives me a view. I know I need to watch for Maria. I’ll be OK.”
“I’ll keep you informed. Love you. Be careful.”
There was a weak laugh. “Who’s talking? You’re the ones in real danger. Look after yourselves. And bring me back my baby.” The last words were accompanied by a strangled sob that was painful to hear. The line went dead.
Claire called, “They’re ahead. Or at least I think it’s their taillights. They’re just at the junction.”
“That’s the main road. See if they turn left. That leads to Brighton and then on to the port at Newhaven.”
“Turning left.”
“Give them space. Drive on sidelights once they are a good way ahead. There’s hardly anybody on the road and so we’ll be able to follow where they go. I know where they are likely to turn and that’ll help.”
They drove on. The sidelights were now on. They could see the car ahead. He suspected that they might be able to see them, but they would think that they were far behind as the lights would be quite dim. And there was no reason why they should suspect that the car was following them. They were on the main road and it was highly likely that anyone else on the road would be heading to the town.
As they approached Brighton, Charles told Claire to be careful. “They should turn left off the road. Follow a bit closer. I want to make sure they turn to Newhaven. There are a couple of small ports here and there is an outside chance that they have a boat waiting. I doubt it, though.”
They watched and they turned left. Claire got as close as she dared and they saw them take the Newhaven road. Charles had guessed right. He glanced at his watch. It was approaching four. He pulled out the mobile and called directory inquiries. They put him through to the Ferry Company at the port. The ferry would leave at just before five. That was in under an hour. But they were now less than half an hour from the port.
He booked two passengers. He used their real names as they had to tally with their passports. They repeated Mr Charles Rossi and Miss Claire Maine. He turned down the suggestion that they should take a cabin. He guessed that the kidnappers would do that and couldn’t risk being seen by them. Their only chance of snatching Juliet back was to do so by surprise. They couldn’t risk a gunfight, that would be too dangerous. They had to ensure that any steps they took did not place Juliet at risk.
Charles called home and got Douglas’s wife. “When he calls in for messages, tell him the Dieppe meeting is on. Tell him I’ll be with Claire, the American girl. And get ready for Jacqui and Maria. They’ll be back in a couple of hours or so. And Jacqui’s been hurt. Nothing too serious but she’ll need help.”
They got to the port area and saw the Mercedes turning into the car holding area.
“I’ll see you by the gates. Park in a side street and lock the car,” Charles called to Claire as he opened his door. She stopped and he jumped out. He watched from the gates and saw the Mercedes stop and then head for the ferry before driving up the ramp into the car bay. He turned and saw Claire jogging towards him.
“Let’s go. They’re on board” he called. They collected their tickets and got through the cursory customs and passport checks. The boat was almost empty. At that time of the year you don’t get that many holidaymakers. And the trucks tend to reduce in number over the weekends, especially on the early departures.
“We better go on deck. It’ll be chilly but there are more places to hide. We could easily be spotted below decks. I’m afraid it’s going to be a cold trip.”
They climbed on deck. They found an area where they could escape by several routes and sat down. He turned to Claire; “You should put something warm on. Do you have anything?”
She shook her head. “Just a sweatshirt, which I threw in with some tights and wash things that came to hand into the bag. I didn’t think of anything else. I was more interested in papers and ammunition. What about you?”
“I did the same. Just like you. And I grabbed papers and cash.”
“I’m going to find it hard to put my tights and shirt on out here. Once the boat gets going, I’ll sneak down to the Ladies and put them on. Can I huddle up to you? That’s for warmth. It’s for nothing else.”
For the first time since they had left, he relaxed a bit. He grinned, “It’s a bit nippy out here for the something else.”
She put her arms round his waist and let him put his round her shoulders. They sat close together. It warmed them up a bit. It also, he thought, gave them some cover. People would think they were lovers. Mind you, they would have had to be pretty stupid ones to stay up on deck. As the ferry headed out to sea, the wind grew stronger and the thin rain was driven against them despite the bit of shelter they had in their semi-covered piece of deck.
Claire shivered against him. Her body felt icy as it pressed up against his. “Look Charles this is hopeless. We can’t stay up here. I’ll have a scout inside and see if there’s a decent place to hide. I’ll also try to see if I can find out more about the suspects. And they may sell some sweaters or something in the shop.”
She disappeared, Charles waited. The cold wind blew into his face. It caught hold of the thin fabric of his shirt and tugged at it. It found gaps and, as it hit him, his body felt ice cold. The rain came in a continuous fine sheen. It left a film of moisture all over him. Then another. And then another. In the end he realised he would soon be soaked. He tried to get his mind off his damp, cold, misery. He felt a sudden depression sweep over him as he thought back over the last weeks. The last twenty-four hours had seen Juliet kidnapped and Jacqui shot. Now they were on the ferry tracking their quarry, when he should have been entirely focussed on the financial coup they were planning.
He was furious that the nanny had betrayed them. She must have, somehow, let the kidnappers in. Another Di Maglio winner, he thought bitterly. For the first time it struck him. The Di Maglio driver had betrayed them in New York. The Di Maglio nanny had betrayed them. Their Di Maglio car had been attacked in Los Angeles. Their hotel had been targeted there as well. Was Di Maglio really behind this? He shuddered at the thought. He was not the sort of person he wanted as a friend. He was the last sort of person he would have chosen as a father- in-law. But the worst thing of all would be to have him as an opponent. He was too good. It would be too dangerous.
In any case it was too unlikely. Nobody would have been allowed to shoot Jacqui. Not from his entourage. It was too dangerous. However good a shot they were, there was still a high chance of a mistake. An outsider, like the Russians, would take that chance. He didn’t think Di Maglio or any of his people would. Not with Jacqui. And in any case, the incident would have traumatised Juliet. Despite all his faults, Di Maglio was genuinely fond of her. He would never put her through that.
Charles found it hard to fathom out what was happening. Who was doing this to them? The Di Maglio story about the Russians and his Empire rang false. They knew how he would react. They would only risk gang warfare if a madman led them. And the madman would have to be inept as well. It was true that Rastinov or some feral substitute could fit that bill. But it was doubtful Rastinov was really alive. Logically, Tobin still ran the Russian Mafia. He had succeeded Rastinov after they killed the mad Russian in the attack on his place in the South of France. Charles was sure they‘d killed him. Yet Di Maglio would have them believe that he could still be alive. It made no sense, at all. Perhaps, Di Maglio was faced with a palace revolt. It could e
xplain why he wanted Charles in. He needed a younger man to help him re-establish control. But if that were the case, Claire would have been aware that something was happening. She wasn’t in the inner circle. But she’d worked for Di Maglio since she was eighteen. That was almost eight years. She was as close to the inner circle as anyone got. And it was clear she was as perplexed as they were as to the source of the attacks. Her reactions, when they were threatened, showed she was loyal to them. Equally important, she hadn’t recognised any of the people used. She would have recognised anyone from the Di Maglio stable.
He shook his head and buried it into his hands. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him start for his gun, but the quiet voice of Claire pulled him together. “They are in a cabin. It’s a first class one on the upper deck. I’ve got us one on another deck. It’ll be nasty, as it is second class. Four bunks but nobody else in them. It’ll let us keep warm and we can move upstairs before the boat docks. They won’t move till they can go down to their car and that’s around the same time as the foot passengers are called just as they get into the harbour.”
“Is there any chance of snatching Juliet?”
“No. Not from their cabin. There’s a steward on duty. And we’ve nowhere to go. We can’t afford a shoot out. Your friend, the Commander, mightn’t be able to help us here. I doubt we’re in his jurisdiction.”
They headed downstairs. She’d warmed up a bit but Charles was shivering. The air down there was fairly bad. The cabin was poky. It only had a wash stand. But it was at least warm.
“We need to dry off and dry our clothes,” said Claire. She stripped off her shirt and fished inside her bag for a bra which she quickly put on.
Charles stripped off too and put on some dry underwear. He then took the thin hand towel and dried his hair as best he could. She took another and did the same thing. There was a radiator in the room and they placed their shirts on it. Their trousers were wet, but not wet through. Charles’ shirt was worse than Claire’s was. Hopefully it could dry in the couple of hours before they hit France.