Chapter 30
Constanta moved lithely through the dense twisted branches to the place that she and Tarquin had chosen as their lair for the duration of the afternoon. Lying down next to him on the thick layer of old dry leaves, she scrunched her coat into a pillow and then thumped her head onto it. They were completely hidden to the outside world apart from a narrow view to the west through a gap in the foliage. It was as though they were underwater. Light stabbed erratically through the restless canopy around them, dancing chaotically on their faces and arms, playing with the contours of their bodies and turning them into weird speckled creatures of no definite shape.
“Anything happening out there?” Tarquin said, feeling a faint tinge of uneasiness at her close proximity.
“No. Van doors are still open … no one’s around,” she said listlessly. “We’re just gonna have to wait for Petru to find out what the fuck’s going on.”
“Yuh … looks like it. I was imagining he’d have rung by now and revealed the master plan … you know, a sort of ‘eureka’ moment and explained everything to us!” Tarquin said.
“A reeka moment?” she said, turning her head towards him for an explanation.
“Oh … I meant a moment of … realization … understanding. You know, ‘the penny dropping’ sort of thing,” he said, stretching out and putting a hand behind his head.
“Can you speak in plain English, Tarquin?” she said, giggling at the irony. “What is a ‘Reeka’ moment, for fuck’s sake?”
“You’ve never heard of this?” he said, casting a wary glance at her.
“No, I fucking haven’t.”
“It’s what you say when you suddenly understand something. It’s ‘Eureka’ not ‘Reeka.’ From what I can remember, it was a Greek guy—a mathematician called Archimedes—who sat in the bath one day and, so the story goes, suddenly realized that the amount of water his body displaced was the same volume as his submerged body. He went on to work out that that’s how a boat floats. The displaced water is equal to its weight.”
“Wow. You are so clever, Tarquin!” Constanta said, giggling and flashing her white teeth. “If only I had been to your ‘smart school’ for upper class English boys.”
Tarquin smiled self-consciously.
“Well, from what you say, you were taught pretty well in Romania,” he said.
“Oh my, you are so tactful as well! Were there separate lessons in ‘manners’?” she said, turning her body towards him slightly.
“No, actually. That … well, those you just pick up, I suppose.”
“From your terribly well-bred parents … in their well-bred circle of friends!”
“Possibly,” Tarquin said, feeling a wave of heat. “It’s just common sense to me. You want to put people at their ease.”
“I don’t,” Constanta challenged. “I like to make people feel uncomfortable!”
“Well, that’s a bit sad, isn’t it? A bit pointless?”
“Not at all. It’s a game. You’re too concerned about other peoples’ feelings, darling. Fuck their feelings! Loosen up and pull their toes, as you English like to say.”
“Their legs.”
“Okay, legs then. Have some fun. Play with them. Back home that’s how we are. We’re always taking the piss out of our friends. But you English like heavy, serious conversation and always play it very polite in case you offend somebody. So boring. But then you suddenly go the other way and … boom! You go off like a nuclear weapon and turn really nasty. All that pent-up politeness explodes out!”
Tarquin looked at her, incapable of a reply. She burst into quiet spurts of muffled laughter at his expression and wriggled even closer, so she was touching him. Reaching up, she broke off a fleshy leaf and began to run its stem slowly across his forehead, then down over the bridge of his nose and across his lips … sensuously, from side to side.
Tarquin smiled and rubbed his forehead. He was anything but relaxed.
“You’re an enigma, Constanta,” he said, staring up through the leaves at glimpses of blue sky. “I can’t make you out.”
“Now that’s a surprise … you being so smart!” she teased, digging her elbow into his ribs.
Tarquin rolled over to face her and rested his head on his hand. Her marbled eyes watched him defiantly, her lips parted slightly, revealing the sparkle of moisture on her teeth. There was a challenge in those blue green eyes … a dare. To Tarquin she looked absurdly beautiful in that theatre of dancing light—other worldly, beckoning, but infinitely dangerous.
With a mixture of fear and primal lust, he leant down and allowed his lips to brush gently onto hers with a rhythmic movement of his head. She sighed and put a hand around the back of his head, pulling him closer. Her mouth was like warm velvet, her tongue delicate, searching, needy … the shy representative of another hidden Constanta, the child in her, freed of the armouring Tarquin had come to fear. The real Constanta needed love, craved for it … he could feel that. Her defences were down; she was naked. They kissed amongst the leaves in that sun-spangled paradise for a length of time unknown to either of them, but presently, and without any warning, the old Constanta returned.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she announced, suddenly sitting up. “It ain’t gonna happen.”
Tarquin pulled away from her. Her voice was harsh, almost hostile. It splintered the pure crystal of the moment like a musket ball.
“I’m sorry?”
“It ain’t gonna happen, Tarquin. I’m not going to fuck you in here.”
“Well … I … er … didn’t expect you would,” he said, perplexed by the sudden change.
“Just didn’t want you getting carried away, that’s all. I know what you men are like,” she said sternly.
“Constanta,” he said, staring at her. “Calm down. I’m not going to try anything, do anything; we’re in the middle of some bushes waiting for another person to arrive any moment. I’m not insane, for God’s sake!”
“Good, then that’s fine!” she said, running her fingers through her tangled hair. “What time is it, anyway?”
He squinted at his wrist. “It’s twenty to five.”
“Okay, let’s hope Petru gets some more information soon. We still don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on! It’s getting late, and they’ll be closing the shutters and windows soon,” she said.
“True. He needs to get a move on or he’ll be locked in for the night!” Tarquin said, reaching over and disentangling a small twig from her hair. “And then what do we do? We can’t stay here in the bushes all night!”
Constanta succumbed again into quiet spurts of laughter.
“What the hell is so funny?” he said perplexed.
“You make me laugh; you’re a fucking joke!” she said, staring at him affectionately.
He looked at her for a few moments.
“You know, you’re really good for me, Constanta. Somehow you loosen me up. I can be a bit pompous …”
“Too bloody right, darling, you’ve got an iron bar up your arse!” she said, chuckling. “But I like you, Tarquin. Don’t get me wrong. You’re honest; you’re not full of shit like so many of my men friends—trying to big themselves up all the time to impress me. I like this about you. Plus you’re old fashioned, as well. I mean, look at those fucking shoes!” she said, pointing at his heavy leather lace-ups. “You are Sherlock bloody Holmes!”
He looked at her briefly, before grabbing her head in his hands and kissing her hard on the mouth again.
Chapter 31
“There it is … Marston Meysey!” Sammy said, peering at a white sign pointing chirpily from an overgrown hedge. “Four and a half miles … take a left!”
The black Sprinter turned sharply, throwing Bob against Sammy and Sammy against Gus.
“Slow down, G!” Bob said, straightening himself. “We’ve got all bloody night … what’s the big rush!”
“I don’t want to be arriving at the ’ouse too late, okay … it’ll look a bit queer,” Gus said
. “We’re supposed to be delivering a parcel.”
“Okay. Okay. But cool the speed, for fuck’s sake. If something comes round one of these corners we’re gonna wipe ’em out!”
“Don’t excite me, B,” Gus said with a leer. “Look, I just want to arrive. These narrow lanes are doing me head in. Like I told yer it would, the sat nav threw in the towel way back. Look at it now … it’s saying turn around. The box of shit!”
“Yeah, it’s a bit confused, that’s for sure,” Sammy said, looking at the screen. “Keeps trying to reroute itself.”
“Right, Sammy, it’s time for you to duck into the back, my friend,” Gus said. “We’re gonna be there soon. As I remember, the house is about half a mile before Marston. There’s like two low walls on either side of the entrance and then a line of trees on both sides of the road to the house. Quite impressive, if yer know what I mean. Like straight out of some film.”
“Can’t wait!” Sammy said, elbowing Bob surreptitiously.
“Strupe Hall,” Bob said jauntily. “Come on, show yourself, girl!”
They passed a small crossroads, and suddenly Gus hit the brakes hard.
“That’s it! We take a right here!”
He reversed and headed onto an even smaller road. Here the swollen summer hedges of brambles, hawthorn, and hazel scratched and clawed at the dark skin of the van with horrible screeches, whilst the wing mirrors choked up with white umbrellas of cow parsley.
Gus cursed and winced at the cacophony surrounding them whilst Sammy threw his arms around like a mock conductor, laughing. Abruptly the noise stopped, as the hedges fell away from the road and they reached the edge of a small copse. Gus slapped his hands on the steering wheel.
“There she blows! See that line of trees over there … well, that’s Strupe Hall,” he said triumphantly. “Get ready to take a gander through the ‘eyes,’ Sammy, we’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Mary had just let Titus out of his kennel when she saw a large black van coming along the drive. She felt a small ripple of nervousness at this unexpected arrival and walked hesitantly across the gravel to meet it.
Titus yapped excitedly around the tyres of the vehicle as it drew alongside her. The window lowered to reveal a pair of men inside dressed in some form of uniform. She did not like the look of them.
“Evening, love,” the driver said with an unconvincing smile. “Sign this, will yer, we have a parcel for Mr Smythe … sorry we’re a bit late. The roads around here are a bloody nightmare! We could hardly fit the van down the final stretch, to be honest!”
“Mr Smythe?” Mary said looking puzzled. “There is no Mr Smythe down here … this is Strupe Hall. Are you sure you have the right address?”
Gus picked a parcel from the seat to his left and pretended to scrutinize it.
“Right … Mr Robert Smythe … Peacocks, Marston Meysey …”
“Well, this isn’t Peacocks … it’s Strupe Hall,” Mary said matter of factly. “You’ve come to the wrong place, I’m afraid. I would try and help, but I’ve never heard of Peacocks. Can I see the parcel?”
Gus held it up with the address for her to see. She looked at it and shrugged, whilst noticing the livid bruise on the other side of Gus’s face.
“No, never heard of the place. I know this area quite well, so I’m doubtful that it’s around here,” she said.
“Bloody hell!” Gus said with mock frustration. “Oh sorry, excuse me, love. Just it’s our last delivery of the day and I was hoping to finish. Now we’ve got to go on a wild goose chase!”
“Sorry I can’t help you,” Mary offered politely.
“Who does live here then?” Gus asked, conjuring up an innocent expression. “It’s a lovely house.”
Mary immediately thought the question was odd from a man who was keen to finish his shift.
“Oliver Clasper,” she said quietly, with a sense of reluctance.
“Oh right … well, that certainly isn’t Smythe, is it!” Gus said with a grin.
“No, it isn’t,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward Titus.
“Is the gentleman here at the moment, he might be able to help with …”
“No, he’s in France,” Mary said, and immediately regretted it.
“Yeah, of course,” Gus blurted.
“I’m sorry?”
“I meant … er … so when’s he back?”
Bob coughed loudly.
“Is that of any relevance?” Mary said, giving Gus a sharp look.
“Oh … so I suppose you have to look after the place in his absence,” Gus said casually, his eyes roving over the house. “Must be huge inside … look at all those windows!”
Mary thought fast. This line of questioning was unnerving her.
“Well, obviously. My husband and our own dogs … er … German shepherds … are in the house. Titus here doesn’t get on with them.”
“Mmm …,” Gus murmured as though thinking about something. “Right, well, sorry to disturb you and … er … thanks, love.”
He put the van into gear and, after doing a loop on the gravel, headed back down the drive. Mary watched them go until they were out of sight. Something about those people made her uneasy, but without wanting to dwell on silly feelings, she attended to the task of taking Titus for his evening walk.
Sammy stuck his head through the curtain and climbed into the front seat.
“Guys, I’m gonna be perfectly honest with you, this isn’t looking good. I heard all that conversation, and I reckon that woman was suspicious.”
“You do?” Gus said, surprised.
“Yes, I do. Your questions, Gus, with due respect, weren’t exactly smart.”
“No?”
“No! You seemed just a bit too inquisitive, if yer know what I mean! I may be wrong, but that’s what I think.”
“But we had to find out what the situation was,” Gus said defensively.
“True, we did. For whatever reason, I still say she was suspicious. Either way, we have a problem. If she isn’t in the house with her husband, i.e. she told us a porky, she may well put a call through to the coppers and explain what happened. That might make them sweep by unexpectedly, like when I’m there later on. If she is in the house with her husband and her bloody Alsatians, then I don’t think I want to be there with them!”
Bob burst out laughing.
“Why ever not, Sammy?” he said, guffawing.
“Shut it, Bob,” Gus said sternly. “This isn’t funny! We have to make a decision.”
“Cool down, for Christ’s sake,” Bob said, looking out of his own window. “I was only trying to lighten things up a bit.”
“My advice to you, mate, is abort this job now. I’ve done plenty of jobs like this, and if you smell trouble at the start, get the hell out of there. It isn’t worth it. Even the big man himself said, don’t take any risks. We know the geezer is coming back to his London gaff at some point; you just nail him then in your own territory. We did our job and got down here. We’ve established Oliver is away. We’ve been professional, okay?”
“The man’s right, G,” Bob said. “She was suspicious. We can’t afford to get nailed a second time.”
“A second time?” Sammy said, puzzled.
“Yeah … well …as we was sayin’ earlier about the bruises on…”
“What he means, Sam,” Gus interjected quickly, “is we can’t afford to get our arses kicked a second time. Once by Oliver’s henchmen, and then again by his local coppers.”
“Oh right … sure … that makes sense,” Sammy agreed, whilst scrutinizing the livid marks on Gus’s face with interest.
“I mean, what are yer going to achieve sneaking around that house, anyway?” Bob added, “We know the geezer’s up to something.”
“It’s what he’s up to that Viktor and Zoltan want to know; they reckon he’s making some sort of furniture. Yer know, really old stuff worth a shitload of wonga.”
“S’pose so,” Bob said disinterestedly.
“Right,” he said eventually. “We’re gonna head back to town.”
* * *
Petru peered through the small hole he’d made in the wainscot as the men came up the final steps. They were panting heavily and carrying something between them. They stopped for a few moments at the top to catch their breath.
“Good God … those stairs never get any easier!” the fatter of the two said.
“It’s good for you, Oliver,” the other said. “Strengthens up your heart.”
“Where there’s pain, there’s gain, I suppose,” he replied, still panting.
Petru scrutinized the object they’d brought up and realized it was the chest he’d seen earlier on the ground floor. Pulling away from the hole slightly, he brought his camera up and took a couple of shots. He sank back down on his knees and waited, intrigued to see what was going to happen.
“Okay, let’s get on with it,” Oliver said. “We don’t have a load of daylight left.”
“True,” the other man said. “But enough, I think.”
“Where the hell’s Fabien with the lid?” Oliver said.
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not important at the moment. Cecile is probably bending his ear about this and that … you know what women are like. Also, he’s going around closing the windows and shutters before the air gets damp,” the second man said.
Petru felt a wave of fear flow through him. Close the windows … cut off his escape route? Having to open shutters and windows on his way out was going to slow him down and possibly attract attention.
The second man pulled out a pair of screwdrivers and handed one of them to Oliver.
“Okay, if you can just start taking the eight main screws out of the front panel, Oliver, but leave the corner ones, okay, or it’ll fall apart! I’ll do the top. When they’re out you can start on the right side.”
“You’re the boss, Melvyn,” Oliver said, squatting down.
They started working on the crate they’d brought up earlier, unaware that a pair of eyes was watching their every move from behind the wainscoting, twelve feet away.
The Freiburg Cabinet Page 24