by Lena Jones
‘So, what, you’re just a dogsbody, are you, for the Alumni?’ I say. ‘I mean, you’re obviously not important enough to be in charge, are you?’ I raise my voice to cover the sound of the phone keys as Brianna dials the emergency number. ‘I bet it’s always Do this! Do that! I bet you just hate being ordered about all the time, don’t you?’
Tabitha glares at me. ‘Shut her up, can’t you?’ she says to her son, but he doesn’t move.
I carry on, aware of Brianna whispering into the phone behind Tabitha. ‘I mean, it must be hard for you, having to do all the fetching and carrying, having them boss you around all the time. I bet you’re fed up with it, aren’t you? I bet you think you should be bossing them around, don’t you?’
She strides over and raises her hand, ready to smack me across the cheek. I’ve obviously touched a nerve – but have I given Brianna long enough to finish the call?
‘Mum!’ says Arthur in evident horror. ‘She’s fourteen, for goodness’ sake!’
‘I don’t care,’ she says. ‘She and her friends are not going to mess up our plans now, not after all these years, when we’re so close to being sworn in as full members—’ She breaks off mid-sentence, and shrieks, ‘Hang up that phone, now!’
Tabitha charges at Brianna, who stands fixed to the spot, looking terrified.
I shout, ‘No!’ but it makes no difference. I feel powerless as I watch the scene unfold.
And then our beloved friend is lying on the tiles, her face pale and her eyes closed. Is she all right? Did she strike her head on the sideboard? I need to get over to her, but there are too many people between her and me.
Liam, who’s closer, runs to block Tabitha’s way, but he’s too late. Brianna and the handset go flying in different directions.
‘Brianna!’ I shout, but there’s no answer.
‘Tie up the girl,’ says Arthur’s mother, nodding towards our unconscious friend.
Arthur is nearly as pale as Brianna. ‘I don’t think she needs restraining, Mum – she needs a doctor.’
‘Nonsense. She’s just unconscious. We need to make sure these three don’t leave and go to the police.’
‘You can’t keep us prisoner,’ says Liam.
She smiles at him. ‘Of course we can,’ she says cheerfully. ‘I bet no one knows you’re here, do they? If you’d actually managed to contact the police earlier, your friend wouldn’t have been trying again just now, would she?’
My heart is beating too quickly. I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath. As I open them, I slow my breathing right down, focusing on calming my thoughts and body.
It works. Now, with a clarity that Mr Zhang would applaud, I can visualise what I have to do. If we’re going to escape, we’ll need to unlock the gate. I scan first Arthur and then his mother, and spot a bunch of keys, hanging from Tabitha’s belt. Now all I need to do is get hold of them.
Arthur takes a length of rope from his back pocket (who carries rope in their pocket?) and sets about lifting Brianna into one of the armchairs and lashing her to it, while his mother looks on and gives unhelpful, contradictory instructions.
I ask loudly, ‘Is Sheila still alive?’
Arthur stops for a moment. ‘Of course she is,’ he says. ‘I told you – we aren’t hurting anyone.’
‘So who did?’ I insist. ‘And where is Sheila? What have you done with her?’
‘Arrrrgggghhhh!’ Tabitha’s scream makes us all jump. She rounds on me. ‘I have had enough of your pitiful little whiney questions. Tie her up with her boyfriend,’ she tells her son.
Arthur shepherds Liam and me towards the armchairs. This is my moment – if I don’t do something now, we’re going to be captives, with little hope of rescue or release. I catch Liam’s eye as we traipse dutifully along, and mouth, ‘Duck on three …’
He nods, and I mouth, ‘One … two …’
As I shout ‘Three!’ Liam crouches down, giving me access to Arthur. Using the heels of my palms, I strike Arthur in the sternum and navel simultaneously and he falls to the floor, landing on the tiles with an unpleasant crunch. I hope I haven’t been too rough. There isn’t time to worry about that, though – Tabitha’s coming straight for me.
‘Get Brianna!’ I shout to Liam, who immediately runs to our friend’s side and starts to untie her.
Tabitha is squaring up to me. She’s taller than I am but very thin – she doesn’t look strong. I hope I’m right. I close my eyes for a split second. When I open them, I see her fist coming straight for my face. But I’m fully focused. As her blow meets the palm of my hand, I continue the trajectory, sending her off balance so that I only have to get out of her way for her to fall.
She lands awkwardly but scrambles straight back up and comes for me again. This time, she lowers her head and charges towards my belly. Again, I wait for the optimal moment … As I step out of the way, she can’t slow the momentum and ends up running into the wall. She crumples to the floor and lies still.
There’s no time to waste, though – I can hear Arthur starting to groan. I dash to his mother’s side and unclip the keyring from her belt before running over to Liam. ‘Have you freed her?’ I ask.
‘Yeah. And she’s coming round.’
‘I feel sick,’ mumbles Brianna. Liam and I put each put an arm round her waist and the three of us stagger out into the hall.
As I’m opening the front door, I hear Arthur saying, ‘Mum? Mum! Are you all right?’ but we carry on making our way outside.
‘How are we going to get past the gate?’ asks Liam.
I dangle the set of keys in front of him. ‘With these. I managed to snatch them from Tabitha’s belt.’ And with that, I lock the front door behind us, trapping Arthur and his mother inside the house.
We make it out of the park gates and lock them behind us. I drop the keys in a nearby bin. Hopefully, that will slow Arthur and Tabitha down a bit, if they do try to come after us.
‘We’ll have to take a cab,’ I say, as we limp along. Brianna’s far too weak for us to move quickly. She’s taller than I am, and her weight bears down on me uncomfortably. The three of us are like a bizarre version of the three-legged race, with too many legs and not enough capable runners.
As soon as we’re far enough away from the signal blocker, Liam orders a black cab through an app on his phone.
‘It should be here any minute,’ he says. ‘It’s just a street away.’
When the taxi pulls up, I call out to the driver and he gets out and comes over to help.
‘What’s happened to her?’ he asks, helping us to set Brianna gently down on the back seat.
‘She had a fall,’ I say.
‘So you need to go to the hospital?’ he asks.
‘No. My friend here is a trained first-aider, so he’s checked her over. We just need to get her home.’
The driver climbs into his seat and meets my eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Was she drinking?’ he asks. ‘This is very bad – she looks too young for to be drinking alcohol.’
Liam shakes his head. ‘No – nothing like that. We were at a party, and someone was mucking around and took her chair away just as she went to sit down. She fell backwards on to some tiles.’
I’m impressed by my friend’s quick thinking. It’s such a plausible lie.
‘Ouch!’ says our driver. ‘Where does she live?’
Liam catches my eye. ‘Is it safe to go to hers?’ he asks quietly.
‘It’s got to be better than my place,’ I say. ‘They know where I live.’
‘Cadogan Place, please,’ Liam tells the driver.
I close the connecting window and call Sofia Solokov.
She answers on the third ring. ‘This had better be good, Agatha Oddlow, or you’ll be in big trouble for waking me at one o’clock in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry, Sofia, but I need your help.’
‘Hold on – aren’t you suspended?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Let me guess, you’ve g
ot the – what’s the expression? – the bit between your teeth and you’re not letting go?’
I sigh. ‘Look – my friend Liam was able to trace the registration number of the car that kidnapped Arthur and me …’
‘Oh, yeah – the professor told me you’d been abducted. Sounds pretty scary.’
‘Yeah, it wasn’t fun.’
‘What do you need?’ Her tone is resigned – as if we’ve been in this position a hundred times before, which seems a little unfair.
‘I need you to send a team over to a house called The Lodge, which is at the entrance to Greenwich Park. That’s where they’ll find Arthur and his mother, Tabitha, who both need taking into custody. The Guild will also have to take possession of the five paintings that were delivered there tonight by helicopter. Now, I’m sure Arthur and Tabitha know where Sheila Smith is being held, so they’ll need to be interrogated …’
‘Stop! You’re going too fast, Agatha. What are these paintings you’re talking about?’
I quickly fill her in on the secret helicopter delivery.
‘Wow,’ she says, ‘you really think those are stolen paintings?’
‘I think it’s more likely they’re forgeries, waiting to be swapped with the originals.’
‘So,’ she says, ‘what time do you think the drop was scheduled for?’
‘The drop …?’
‘If the forgeries have just been supplied, there must be a drop scheduled – a pre-arranged delivery to a person at their home or gallery.’
‘So maybe instead of arresting the Fitzwilliams,’ I say slowly, ‘we should have them followed, to see who they’re meeting.’
‘Hmm, maybe,’ she says. ‘I’ll talk to the professor – see what she wants to do.’
‘But I’m worried about Sheila. I think we should rescue her as soon as possible. I’ve found some evidence that suggests the Alumni killed my mum …’
‘The Alumni?’
‘Oh – that’s the organisation Arthur’s working for. They’re obsessed with keeping masterpieces for people they reckon really appreciate art, or something.’
‘And you think they had something to do with your mum’s death?’
‘I know they did – but I haven’t got time to go into all that now.’
‘You’re right. I’m typing a message to Professor D’Oliveira … She should be receiving it … right now …’ She pauses, then says, ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Now that the Fitzwilliams are on to you, it’s important we keep you safe until we’ve caught them. Where are you planning on going now?’
‘Cadogan Place – it’s Brianna’s house. I thought the three of us could stay there until the morning.’
‘That sounds OK. I’ll post a couple of plain-clothes guards outside, just to be on the safe side.’
‘Thanks, Sofia.’
I picture Dad, on his own at home. What if the Alumni send someone over – perhaps that big man who they sent to intimidate Mr Cohen? A montage of images of Dad being threatened fills my mind, and my breathing becomes quick and shallow, my palms sweaty.
But, as if she can read my thoughts, Sofia says, ‘Shall I also have a couple of people posted outside your house, until daylight, to keep an eye on your father?’
‘Oh, would you? That would be brilliant – thanks so much, Sofia.’
‘No worries. We can’t have anyone getting hurt on our watch.’
We finish the call, and I text Dad to let him know where I am so he won’t worry. Then I check on Brianna. She’s a better colour and is sitting straighter, watching London go by through the window. Liam’s removed his coat and she’s wearing it draped over her like a blanket. She looks a lot younger than her age and it makes me feel protective – and guilty too, for dragging her into this.
‘You OK?’ I ask her, and she smiles and nods.
‘I’m feeling much better. I could really do with some sleep, though. I keep nodding off.’
‘We’re nearly there,’ says Liam.
Sure enough, at that moment we turn off Sloane Street and drive along another road for a minute before arriving at the far end of Cadogan Place. It’s not long before the taxi is pulling up in front of Brianna’s house.
‘You’re sure you’ll be all right?’ the cabbie asks, when we open the connecting window to pay him.
‘We’ll be fine,’ says Liam. ‘Our friend’s much better already – look …’ And Brianna manages a smile as she climbs out.
‘Thanks so much for your help,’ I say.
Two Guild agents are already in place opposite Brianna’s house as we approach the front steps. One of them discreetly shows me the Gatekeepers’ key logo – on a label inside his woolly hat – and they nod to me. I feel safer for knowing they’re there.
Brianna is doing so much better that she’s now able to climb the steps without Liam’s or my support. She unlocks her front door and we follow her in and turn on the hall light.
‘Straight to bed,’ says Brianna. We walk upstairs together to the first floor, where she points to a series of doors and says, ‘Pick any of those.’
But I’m not happy about the idea of leaving her alone overnight, when she’s just had a bad bang to the head.
‘Can I share your room?’ I ask. ‘I’d like to be sure you’re OK.’
‘That’s fine. I just have to sleep …’
The three of us end up all sleeping in her room – with Liam in her plush armchair, and Brianna and me sharing her enormous bed. If we hadn’t all been exhausted from the night’s adventures, we could have had quite a fun slumber party. There’s always next time.
‘I can’t believe we’re out of the investigation,’ I say. ‘I mean, all these years I’ve wondered what happened to Mum, and now I’ve discovered the organisation who hurt her …’
Liam nods in sympathy.
He and I are sitting in Brianna’s kitchen. She’s still fast asleep upstairs and we don’t want to disturb her. We’ve raided the fridge, but all we could find was a giant chocolate gateau, so we’re eating slices of that for breakfast. It seems like Brianna’s brother doesn’t believe in stocking up on healthy food.
‘I’m not going to that meeting with the professor,’ I tell Liam as I lick the last traces of chocolate off my teaspoon.
He takes a sip from his mug of tea and raises an eyebrow. ‘Why not?’
‘She’s bound to be busy with the Fitzwilliams and the forgery ring. In any case, she’ll just give me more reasons why I’m banned from the case – and I’ve got more important things to do. I’ve got to find Sheila, and work out what happened to Mum!’
My mobile begins to ring.
‘Who is it?’ asks Liam.
‘I’m not sure …’ I answer the phone cautiously. ‘Agatha speaking, hello?’
‘Agatha – Elizabeth MacDonald here.’
‘Oh, hello! I wanted to call you, but I’ve been taken off the investigation …’
‘Yes, Professor D’Oliveira has told me. But I need to speak to you, face to face, if that’s all right? It’s about Arthur Fitzwilliam.’
‘Of course.’
‘How does nine o’clock sound? Too early?’
‘No, that sounds fine,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll see you then.’
We end the call and I message Sofia:
Hi Sofia. Any news about the Fitzwilliams? Please tell the professor I won’t make the 8.30 meeting. Dr MacD has asked me to meet her at the gallery at nine. But please don’t tell the prof that
My phone pings almost immediately with a response from Sofia:
Our little birds had flown the coop, so no joy
I hold my phone up so Liam can read it. ‘Arthur and his mum weren’t there? What happens now?’ he asks.
‘Hopefully, they won’t have got far. At least now that the Guild know they’re criminals, they’ll be on the lookout for them.’
Liam hesitates. ‘I’m not sure it’s safe for you to go to the gallery, while they’re a
t large, Aggie.’
‘It’s a public place. It’s probably as safe as anywhere,’ I say confidently. I get up from the table and wash my mug and plate, leaving them to drain on the side. ‘Meanwhile, I need a wash and some clean clothes.’
Upstairs, Brianna is awake. She greets me with a big smile. ‘You’re still here! I was worried I’d have missed all the action.’
‘There was plenty of action last night.’
‘You know what I mean … What happens now?’
‘I’m going to the National Gallery, to meet Elizabeth MacDonald, the director.’
‘Ooh – can I come?’
‘It’s not going to be very interesting, to be honest. I don’t think there’s much point, sorry. Look … would it be OK if I had a shower and borrowed some clothes?’
‘Of course. Mia wardrobe es sua wardrobe. Or something like that. You know what I mean: you can help yourself to anything you like.’
She hands me a clean towel and shows me into her en-suite bathroom, where I take a shower. It feels luxurious to stand under the hot stream of water after all the fighting and running.
I don’t take too long, though, conscious that I need to be at the gallery quite soon. When I’m dry, I rummage through Brianna’s ‘closet’ (actually a huge separate room). At another time, I reckon I could spend at least a couple of hours in here, but today I just need an outfit suitable for a business meeting. I pick out a dark-grey pleated skirt and a red sweater. With thick black tights and my DM boots, I reckon I’ll pass.
While I’m dressing, it occurs to me that Mr Cohen might be a useful person to take to the meeting. He can take a look at Sunflowers to verify Arthur’s findings with the XRF spectrometer.
Sitting on the edge of Brianna’s bed while she goes for a shower, I dial the conservator’s number. He answers quickly, still sounding on edge.
‘Yes?’
‘Mr Cohen? It’s Agatha.’
‘Oh, thank goodness you’re all right! I’ve been worried about you – feeling that I should have talked you out of continuing.’
‘I think you tried …’
‘Was there something specific you wanted now?’