by Anna Jacobs
‘And this car? Someone’s bound to notice it,’ Mathers persisted.
‘There’s a big shed. I keep some guns and other items there in case there’s trouble when I’m away on one of my little jobs. I had to leave London in a bit of a hurry this time, didn’t have time to arm myself properly, so I left my London driver behind and told him to take the bureau car back, then I came straight here.’
Mathers waited for him to go on and when he didn’t, prompted, ‘Don’t you think you should tell us who the traitor at the bureau is now, sir?’
‘Well, the problem is I’m not sure whether we have one traitor or two. I’m certain about Butterly now, and fairly certain Jordan is all right. But I’m not risking working with him till I’m completely certain. So we’ll hide at Spalding’s house till it’s dark and then make our way to Honeyfield.’
‘But what about Miss Georgie in the meantime?’
‘We have to trust whoever is with her to keep her safe. And she is no fool, believe me. But if these people catch me, both our lives will be in even greater danger because I won’t betray my country, whatever they threaten. I’ll use some of my spare clothes from here tonight and you can play the master and sit in the back of the car, Mathers.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You mean we have to hang around all day?’ Wally burst out. ‘Couldn’t I do something? No one knows me.’
‘I’m afraid not. But I do appreciate you coming because we don’t know how many of them we’ll be facing. You not only look like a very strong young fellow but I’m certain you’re not a traitor.’
‘Of course I’m not.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be patient.’
A slight smile twisted the young man’s mouth. ‘Do I have any choice?’
‘No. Sometimes waiting is all one can do.’
Mathers didn’t press for any further information. There was no pushing Mr Cotterell into doing something until he felt the time was ripe.
He and Gerald Cotterell were getting a bit long in the tooth for fighting, actually, so he was glad of some help. He liked the look of this young fellow. A strong chap, if Mathers was any judge from his sturdy build, and didn’t seem stupid.
When they got to the head gardener’s house, they hid the car, then Mr Cotterell said he could do with a nap. Mathers was left to entertain Wally.
The young man frowned as he watched the older man go upstairs. ‘Does he often do that? Take naps, I mean.’
‘He’s been on the run for days and I doubt he’s slept well the whole time. Now that I’m with him, he knows I’ll keep careful watch while he catches up on his sleep.’
‘I don’t think anyone could force Mr Cotterell to do something he thought was wrong. I had a teacher like him once. He got exactly that look on his face when he thought something was important. If he gave you an order at times like that, you didn’t argue, just did what he wanted quick smart.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Pity, though. I’d have liked to hear more about my cousin.’
‘I’ve only known Miss Georgie for the past couple of years myself, but that’s enough to respect her. She’s a good lass.’
After a pause and another searching stare at his young companion, he said, ‘I’ve been with her father for decades and know the family background. I can tell you something about her, and I don’t think he’ll mind, you being her cousin and wanting to meet her. She’d do anything to get to know her mother’s family. She was close to her twin but after he was killed, she was very lonely and sad.’
‘I’m not sure it’ll bring her closer to my mother’s generation, but us younger folk think they were unkind to cut my aunt off so completely. They refused to tell us anything about Mary Jane, but we overheard things and put the details together piece by piece. Such a pity the boy was killed.’
‘Yes, very sad. Mr Philip was a fine young man.’ Mathers hesitated, then decided in for a penny, in for a pound. ‘But history has repeated itself in a way. The young lady he was going to marry was carrying his child. She married Mr Philip’s best friend instead to protect the unborn child. That man has been invalided out of the Army and she now has a fine little son, also called Philip. He’s nearly two, and big for his age.’
Wally smiled. ‘I’ve got a young son, too. Three, my Robbie is. And we have another child on the way.’
‘Congratulations.’ Mathers tactfully asked a few questions about Wally’s family, then finished giving a bare outline of the difficult time Georgie had had in recent years.
‘I’m trusting you not to spread this round the rest of the family without her permission,’ he warned in the end.
Wally smiled at him, a smile so like Miss Georgie’s that Mathers was startled for a moment.
‘No. I won’t do that, I promise you.’
After which, Mathers allowed himself to doze in an armchair, Wally found a newspaper to read, and everyone waited for darkness to fall.
Once the sun had set Gregory went out to check whether any strangers were prowling round the village. This time he took his friend Jack with him. He and his friends had divided up the village and would take it in turns to patrol each area.
They saw the two cars parked on the outskirts of the village near the main road and edged a little closer. A man was standing next to the second car, leaning down to chat to someone in the driving seat.
‘How many other fellows do you think there are?’ Gregory whispered.
‘Could be as many as six or eight, with two cars to drive around in.’
‘Mmm. Better make sure the rest of the lads are out and about, then.’
‘And tell Constable Browning.’
‘We’ve nothing to tell the police. Let’s wait until something happens.’
‘No, Greg. I’m not doing anything that might lead to fighting without telling Browning about it first. He’s my wife’s second cousin, remember, and he’d never forgive me.’
‘Oh, very well. You go and tell him and I will pass the word to the lads about where these sods are parked. Meet you back by the church gate.’
Only a few seconds later, Gregory heard a muffled yell, then silence. He didn’t go to find out what had caused it, because it’d do no good to be caught on his own when he didn’t know how many he’d be fighting.
He went to knock on several doors and get everyone out and about before going to investigate what had happened to his friend.
This time Gregory took the town’s best-known poacher with him. Frank was getting on in years but had eluded capture by gamekeepers his whole life long, to the admiration of his friends. He’d taught Gregory some of his tricks. Who better to have by your side when the situation was getting more serious by the minute?
It was a good thing the two of them were more skilled at moving around without being seen than Jack, because damned if there wasn’t one of the sods keeping watch a short distance along the road from the cars.
Frank dug an elbow into his companion’s ribs and pointed to himself.
Gregory nodded. If Frank wanted to handle this, let him.
He got into a position where he could keep an eye open for anyone else approaching and watched his old mentor in admiration. Frank hugged the shadows and moved as silently as a ghost till he was in a position to tap the stranger on the head and catch him as he fell.
By the time Gregory joined them, the man’s hands were trussed behind him and a rag had been stuffed into his mouth.
Frank whispered, ‘We’ll take him to the police station and let Browning look after him. Can’t leave him lying around for them to set free.’
They explained to the constable that the village was under threat and thank goodness he had the sense to believe them because Mr T had warned him there might be trouble. Browning said he would call out a relief constable.
When they left him the two made their way slowly and carefully to Pear Tree Lane, but they didn’t see another watcher.
‘Something’s not right. There ought to have been another
watcher or two round here,’ Frank said suddenly. ‘You hide in that garden and keep an eye on whether anyone comes into or out of Pear Tree Lane. I want to go and check something.’
It didn’t occur to Gregory to argue. Not with Frank. Or to go with him. Not if Frank wanted to do this on his own.
Frank wouldn’t get caught.
Gregory hid behind a water butt and kept very still. It was damp and uncomfortable, but he didn’t intend to get caught either.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jordan drove the borrowed car towards Honeyfield, hoping he’d not have trouble finding this big old house. He’d overheard Cotterell mention it on the phone more than once and had put that and other pieces of information together like a jigsaw puzzle over the past few weeks. There was no doubt in his mind: that house had to be the most likely place for Georgie to be hiding and was therefore the place Cotterell would be heading for.
He’d found Honeyfield on one of the many detailed maps kept in the cabinets of wide, shallow drawers at the bureau. Easy enough to memorise the location. And the house itself was shown on the map, so it must be a big place. But country roads were notorious for misleading people so he might have to ask directions.
This time he was lucky. He got to Honeyfield without any trouble and found a place to park outside the village under some trees, before heading on foot towards the old manor house. It was dark but he could see well enough to avoid making a noise. He was tired and hungry, but that could wait. He had to find Cotterell.
He was almost caught as he approached the gate and he had to roll into a muddy ditch to escape detection by two men who looked like scruffy poachers and clearly knew their way into the grounds without using the wide main gate.
He let them get ahead and followed them silently to a concealed single-person gate. He’d played tracking games during his childhood with his brothers and cousins, never realising how useful that skill would be in his present life.
On the other side of the narrow gate, he stood still to check that the way was clear, but he couldn’t see any sign of the men, so moved forward quietly.
Suddenly he felt a flash of blinding pain in the back of his head.
He regained consciousness in what seemed to be a shed full of garden implements and groaned as movement made his head throb. Or tried to groan but could only make a gurgling sound in his throat. Whoever it was had stuffed some foul-tasting rag in his mouth and fastened it there, damn them. He felt as if he was choking.
A grim-faced man, who must be keeping guard over him, watched him struggle for breath and warned him, ‘I can see you’re having trouble breathing. Don’t try to make any sound when I remove the gag, or you can be sure it’ll be your last.’
Jordan kept quiet, gulping in breath. He watched the man, who kept staring out of the window as if waiting for someone to join him.
The only thing he could do to help himself was use the slow minutes that ticked past to study his surroundings. He couldn’t see any way of escaping. The person who’d tied him up knew how to do it and there was nothing sharp within reach to rub through the ropes binding him.
He was furious at himself for getting caught, absolutely furious.
His captor moved to and fro in an attempt to keep warm, beating his hands against his chest and arms. Twice he went outside for a moment or two, each time gagging his captive again. The second time he came in hastily and didn’t close the door properly.
Jordan watched all this sourly. He was so cold his extremities were going numb, but he didn’t want to choke to death so he kept quiet.
Suddenly the door banged open and another man burst into the shed and attacked Jordan’s captor. They struggled for a few moments, sending objects crashing from shelves, but the newcomer was bigger and stronger. When he managed to kick Jordan’s captor in the groin, the man tumbled to the ground, yelping and gasping for breath. Before he could pull himself together, the attacker had his hands tied behind his back.
Then the attacker turned to study Jordan, shining a torch at him. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I was just passing by and that man thumped me.’
‘Don’t lie. People don’t “pass by” an isolated place like this. I’m not untying you till you convince me you’re not a traitor to our country.’
Jordan didn’t know what to say or believe, but this was the only chance he’d have to get free, so he decided to risk it and tell the truth.
Cotterell drove the car with Mathers beside him and Wally in the back. He seemed to know every twist and turn of the side roads and used some very narrow lanes in the last stage of the journey.
‘Once I’ve driven a road, I never forget it,’ he commented at one point, as if answering a question. ‘We’ll leave the car here and walk into Honeyfield from the north. There’s a rather useful orchard there which runs behind a few properties. Wally, how good are you at moving quietly round the countryside?’
‘Um. I’m not sure. I grew up in a town.’
‘Hmm.’
A few moments later he braked suddenly. ‘Ah. First sighting of our enemy. I might have known they’d find this spot. We’ll leave our car here and go on foot from now on. We’re lucky they didn’t spot us coming.’
He got out with a nimbleness that belied his years. ‘I’ll ask you to stay with the car for the time being, Wally. Near the car would be better than inside it, though. We’ll come back for you once we’ve checked that old ruin. It’d make the best hiding place for strangers, indeed the only one if they wish to stay undetected. Mathers, I think you should have your gun ready.’
‘I’ve already taken that precaution, sir.’
The two older men seemed to melt away into the darkness and Wally didn’t hear a sound after that.
He found a slight rise in the ground about ten yards away from the car and lay down behind it, feeling foolish, not to mention cold. What mad impulse had made him volunteer to help look for a cousin he’d never met? He’d die of shame if he let himself be captured like a rat in a trap.
On that thought he felt around him and found a couple of stones which he could hurl if he needed to delay an attacker. He was a good bowler when he got the chance to play cricket.
He wished he had a gun. And a warmer overcoat. He clamped his teeth together to stop them chattering.
When he heard the faint sound of footsteps coming towards him, he thought it might be Mr Cotterell and Mathers returning, but soon realised it wasn’t. He could only see one person.
Oh hell, he hoped the man didn’t see him and wasn’t armed.
Cotterell nudged Mathers and leant close to say in a low growl of a voice, ‘They don’t seem to have a guard outside, so I’ll go up to the back of the cottage and see if I can eavesdrop to find out what they’re doing. That part of the wall must have fallen in last winter, so I doubt the interior will be soundproof.’
He didn’t wait but edged forward. He didn’t know why or how, but at times like this all his senses felt sharper, and everything seemed to happen more slowly, as if fate was deliberately giving him time to think out what to do. Or maybe his thoughts had speeded up. Who knew?
He stood very still next to one wall of the cottage and soon spotted a faint light coming from inside the sounder part of the building. There were several chinks between stones where the mortar had fallen out. He listened hard, utterly motionless, then took a cautious couple of steps into what had been the outhouse.
Ah! He could see part of the inside through one of the holes. Not much to see, just two men.
‘Ready?’ one asked his companion.
‘Of course I am. I still think we should have attacked that house in the village while we were there the first time, though. We wasted a good opportunity.’
‘Well, if that’s the best you can do, don’t try to think. I’m in charge and I’ve done this often enough to know it’s easier to catch folk unaware when they’re sleeping. We’ve got orders not to hurt Cotterell’s daughter, and to do this without disturbing the
neighbours, remember. Apart from any other consideration, that Tesworth chap is a crack shot, I’m told.’
‘So am I a crack shot. I’ll take care of him if he tries to fire at us.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? We’re not to shoot anyone except as a last resort. That’s why we’re trying to do this quietly.’
‘By the time we get there, the birds could have flown.’
‘You said there was candlelight showing in one bedroom and in the front room downstairs. Does that sound as if they’ve flown? We saw that chap go into the house and hug her earlier on, didn’t we? If he has any sense he’ll be bedding her while he’s got the opportunity. Strange that a dried-up stick like Cotterell could produce such a pretty daughter.’
Cotterell stiffened in fury for a few moments at how they were talking about Georgie, then forced himself to calm down.
He watched as the men blew out an old-fashioned candle lamp and left the cottage. As they walked towards the village, he rejoined Mathers and reported what he’d overheard.
‘They haven’t captured her yet then, sir, which is good.’
‘Yes. The chap who took her away from London must be good at his job. I’ll owe him a lot for that. These fellows think she’s still in the house next to the Tesworths. I’d bet they’ve left it by now. It’s what I’d have done, anyway.’
‘But where could they go?’
‘The big house, maybe. We’ll go and get Wally before we go there, though. If it comes to a fight, he’ll be useful. He’s a strapping young fellow.’
‘We don’t want to lose them.’
‘Don’t worry. I know a short cut or two through the village. I used to visit it as a lad, and I’ve called in here a few times since when I’ve needed somewhere to lie low.’ He chuckled and added, ‘I’m on very good terms with the most skilful poacher you’ll ever meet.’
When they went back to the car, they saw two men rolling about on the ground, struggling in silence apart from a few grunts. One was Wally.