Vroo-oo vroo-oo-ooom. The hollow din of an engine with a holed exhaust blasted into fragments the peace of the warm night air. Misaligned headlights swept the arc of the sky, mini-searchlights probing for enemy stars. A vehicle was bumping across the uneven ground between the car park and the shortcut path. I threw myself flat among the euphorbia bushes and peered through the tangle of branches. With a crunch of gears and a metallic squeal, the car came to a halt. The doors opened and two figures scrambled out.
‘I thought I saw someone over there, Jay.’ The voice was young, female and apprehensive.
A muttered, ‘Shhh, Cath. Just another freeloader like ourselves. C’mon, path’s this way.’
The two figures crossed the gritty volcanic soil towards me. I buried my face in the soft folds of my palm tree bundle. The crunching footsteps were very close now.
‘What if we’re rumbled, Jay?’
‘God, Cath, what a wimp! There’ll be hundreds mobbing the place. Just think of all that free booze.’
Jason’s voice. I should have remembered that Belt-and-Braces Gerry always had back-up for a plan. The fact that Jason was at the barbecue with the same mission as myself showed just how important Gerry thought it was to find out more about the link between Vanheusen and Mansell. Cautiously I moved a branch aside and risked a look. Silhouetted against the pale night sky were baggy trousers and clown-style wigs.
‘Put your arm round me, Jay. I’m afraid of heights,’ Cath giggled.
The two figures morphed into one. I suppose Jason would call it ‘getting into the role’.
I sniggered into the palm fronds. I’d pick my time and…
‘Come on, Cath. Let’s get down there and party.’ Scuffling and giggling, they disappeared from view.
Lugging my palm tree costume, I followed in their wake. Sliding one foot carefully in front of the other, I made my way slowly down. By the time I reached the beach, my fellow party-crashers were well ahead. I watched their silhouettes break into a lurching run. As they approached the nearest marquee, flares set on iron posts in the sand elongated their shadows into cavorting and capering Giacometti figures. I took a tighter grip of the fake palm tree costume and ducked into a clump of the Real McCoy handily close to the end of the path. It wouldn’t do for someone to come along while I was transforming myself into a tree.
When I’d spotted the costume in the hire shop, I’d been sure it was perfect for my mission. And I was still sure, though it was a bit of a hassle to put on – as I’d already found in a trial run in front of my bedroom mirror. It had taken a good ten minutes to wriggle into the narrow tube of the trunk, pull up the long, concealed zip and arrange the realistic fronds. This time I didn’t have Gorgonzola playfully using my trunk as a scratching post, but with my legs imprisoned in a cylinder of material tighter than the tightest hobble skirt, it was going to take God knows how long to shuffle the couple of hundred metres across the sand to the marquee area. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’d just set out on my marathon shuffle, when a foot scraped against stone on the cliff path above. I inched back among the trees, one phoney trunk amid five genuine. Party-crashers? Security, judging from the flash of torches and no attempt at concealment. Two dark shapes loomed. Keep going, guys. But sod’s law, they stopped a few metres away. A match scraped, a cigarette end glowed.
‘Well, that’s the path closed now,’ the bulkier shape grunted. ‘No drunken bum’ll get past Felipe at the top. And quit bellyaching about being on duty on a holiday. The boss is paying us treble rates, isn’t he?’
‘Think he’ll want us again on the 25th?’
‘Sure to. And every night till then. Now that the arty-farty sculpture’s finished, he wouldn’t want anyone making off with it before The Big Do, would he?’
Silence. Then, ‘Beats me how anyone can go overboard like that for a cat. Spends thousands of euros on it. A nut case, that’s what he is. Talks about it as if it’s an effing human.’
‘Sodding right, Eduardo.’ A snort of derision. ‘Heard he’s arranging a wedding ceremony for it.’
At the earthy comments that followed, a more refined palm tree would have turned pink with embarrassment, but palm tree vulgaris, that’s me. Anyway, I had more on my mind than maiden blushes. Vanheusen holding a wedding ceremony for his cat… I didn’t like the sound of that at all.
Eduardo’s radio emitted a tinny squawk.
‘Shit. That’s the last chance of a smoke we’ll have till this thing’s over.’
A tossed butt came dangerously close to lodging in my floppy headgear. I flinched. My fronds rustled and swayed.
‘Wind’s got up.’ They moved off.
As I’d thought, it took me ages to shuffle across the couple of hundred metres of sand over which the clowns had so lightly skipped. I don’t recommend palm tree attire in any situation where quick action might be on the agenda. At last I put down roots, strategically positioning myself in front of the marquee to waylay the waiter emerging with a tray of drinks.
‘Excuse me.’ I whipped out a frond-covered arm and relieved him of a slim glass of bubbly cava.
As I sipped, I studied the surrounding throng. There were Father Christmases and clowns aplenty, and even a Christmas tree or two, but I could spot no other palm trees of the artificial kind. And no sign of the Snow Queen, or of Jonathan Mansell, either. Not a problem: when the Snow Queen arrived, she’d home in on him like a bee to a honey pot.
‘How do palms reproduce, Jay?’ a female voice slurred behind me.
I feigned deafness. Jason could be a damn nuisance, but he was a professional. He’d never have come near me if Gerry had put him fully in the picture. Gerry and his bloody ‘need-to-know’.
‘They make a date, Cath.’
Cath howled with mirth. I maintained a lofty silence and moved away.
Sticking to my repertoire of nod, grunt and glass clinking, I circulated. When I located the Snow Queen, I’d—
And there she was.
Thoroughly enjoying the sensation she was causing, Monique was shimmering down the steps from the car park, every movement sending forth flashes of cold, glittering light. She acknowledged the burst of spontaneous applause, her fingernails erupting in a burst of crystalline fireworks. I watched as Jonathan Mansell in the flowing white robes and corded headdress of a desert sheikh greeted her and ushered her to some tables set a little apart from the rest beside a clump of dwarf palms. Ideal for eavesdropping. Who’d notice one more tree, after all?
It took five minutes to get into position in the clump of palm trees. Rough bark snagged at my outfit as I parted fronds, not my own this time, to give me a clear view of their table. Her high-pitched laugh tinkled on the warm night breeze, but frustration, oh frustration, that’s all I could hear. I hadn’t bargained on the party buzz drowning out everything else. Without warning, they pushed their chairs back and rose to their feet. At a racing snail’s pace I shuffled along in their wake.
The Snow Queen’s tiara flashed from near the water’s edge. There were fewer people in that direction but, unlike the barbecue area, that strip of beach was dark, illuminated only by the phosphorescence of the breaking waves – and that concealed my stealthy approach. Against the backdrop of moonlit sky and sea, Mansell was a ghostly shadow in his pale robes alongside the flashing, sparkling Monique. They strolled to and fro along the sand, an advertising copywriter’s cliché – two figures silhouetted against a sea silvered by moonlight…
Each time they turned their backs I took the chance to shuffle forward a couple of metres. After my third shuffle, they passed within range of my eavesdropping fronds.
‘…I’ve one big reservation about that, Monique. Criminal elements could—’
‘Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Ambrose will be in complete control. He’s got a lot of experience in that field, and, of course, as you will be one of the directors, you’ll…’
A loud burst of laughter from somewhere behind me drowned the rest. Then they were pa
st, their words reduced to an indistinct murmur by the long scrrr-unsssh of pebbles dragging in the waves.
Just the info Gerry wanted. On their next approach perhaps I’d get a clue to what the business deal was. I waited.
‘…thing is, Las Américas already has a casino. Can’t see them licensing another one.’
Another tinkling laugh from Monique. ‘No problem there. Ambrose can guarantee…’ Frustratingly, a gust of wind blew the rest of the sentence out to sea.
So Vanheusen had plans for a new casino – a much more efficient laundering-machine than property sales. The Alhambra would be an ideal front… No wonder he was so keen to persuade Mansell to become a business partner… Damn, damn, damn. If only they would stand still. They stopped and gazed out to sea as a particularly large wave crashed thunderously onto the shore. I leant forward, straining to hear more, but could make out nothing, only an indecipherable murmur.
They made their way back to mingle with the crowd. I’d learnt all I was going to learn. Time to go, but the cliff path was out because of the security guard now stationed at the top. I shuffled off towards the main steps on a course that would take me round the fringe of the party.
I’d just reached the steps when a chord from the band cut through the noise and Vanheusen’s voice boomed through the speaker system. ‘Guys, I think you’ll agree we’ve all enjoyed this celebration of the Feast of the Three Kings.’
Whoops and cheers.
‘Glad you enjoyed it. Now, let’s draw it to a close in the traditional style for this time of year.’
The band launched into the introductory bars of ‘Auld Lang Syne’.
A kilted Scotsman seized my fronded arm. ‘C’mon, hen,’ he slurred in a cloud of alcoholic fumes. ‘I’ll show you how we dae it in Scotland, darling.’
‘Yo, ho, ho, palm tree.’ A laughing pirate, complete with eyepatch and assorted blackened teeth, grabbed my other arm, and I was caught up in an exuberant circle of linked hands. There was nothing I could do. To resist would draw unwelcome attention.
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot…’ The pirate and the Scotsman swung my fronded arms vigorously up and down. ‘An’ never brought to mind…’
‘Go easy on the swings, guys, for God’s sake,’ I yelped. I might as well have kept my mouth shut.
‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot…’ My right arm was swung forward, my left jerked painfully back. ‘For the da-ays of auld lang syne.’
The Scotsman and the pirate surged forward with the others in the circle, dragging me behind them. ‘Now gies a hand, my trusty friend…’
‘Guys,’ I yelled, ‘I can’t—’ I teetered precariously, lost my balance and collapsed sideways on top of the pirate, pulling the unsteady Scotsman with me. By the time we had sorted ourselves out, the whole thing was more or less over.
Boom. Boom. Boom. Under the cover of an explosion of red and green maroons, I turned to shuffle quietly away. A crash of chords from the band and deafening cheers heralded another announcement but, intent on making my getaway, I wasn’t paying much attention.
‘…Snow Queen.’ A roar of applause.
‘What was that all about?’ I shouted to the pirate above another roar of applause.
‘Best costume. Nobody else stood a chance, did they?’
Everyone was watching Monique as she shimmered and glittered her way onto the platform to claim her prize. She clutched the microphone. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Vanheusen. This is so unexpected…’
I put a foot on the first step. ‘Keep talking, Monique,’ I muttered.
A burst of applause.
‘In addition to the first prize,’ Vanheusen had taken the mike again, ‘the judges have decided to give an award for the most original costume…and so…’
I reached the fourth step.
‘…I’ll ask the Snow Queen to announce their decision.’
‘I’m so honoured, Mr Vanheusen.’
Six steps negotiated, only another eight to go.
‘The winner of the most original costume is…’ A dramatic pause, much rustling of paper and thumping of microphone. ‘…that adorable little palm tree.’
Shit. Hell and Damnation.
‘Whey hey! Thaar she goes.’ The pirate’s halloo sank my last chance of sneaking away unnoticed.
Eager hands pulled me back down the steps, pushed me through the crowd and lifted me onto the platform. Please, please, please, don’t let them discover who I am.
‘Congratulations to a worthy winner.’ Vanheusen held out an envelope.
‘Thank you,’ I squeaked.
‘Ah, I detect a palm tree of the female kind.’ He put an arm round my shoulder and drew me towards him. ‘As my prize, I claim a kiss from the winner.’
Shit.
‘Now, let’s see whose pretty face is concealed behind all this greenery.’ He twitched the fronds aside.
‘My God!’ Monique shrieked. ‘It’s Deborah!’ She thrust her face close. ‘What are you doing here in that ridiculous costume? You’re fired. Do you hear me? Fired.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘Fired.’ Gerry’s tone was flat.
‘Sacked, booted out, given my cards. However you like to put it, out on my ear.’ I was despondent, even though my unmasking had been due to sheer bad luck, not incompetence.
‘Mustn’t feel bad about it, kiddo. No use crying over spilt milk.’
Kiddo, indeed. He was only a few years older than me. Still, I appreciated the attempt to make me feel better about this setback to Operation Canary Creeper.
He gave one of his thoughtful chews on the earpiece of his glasses. ‘That casino info is prime stuff. Now, is our friend Mansell going to throw in his lot with Vanheusen? And if so, does he realise the business won’t be the right side of the law? That’s what we’ll have to find out.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘On a scale of one to ten, what are the chances of them taking you back?’
‘Zero, Gerry,’ I sighed. ‘With the open microphone everyone heard Monique. And the jeers and catcalls of We want the palm tree – that sort of thing – made her madder than ever. They swept me away and carried me up the steps singing Viva España and Viva The Palm Tree. No, not a chance.’
‘So we’ve lost you as our eyes and ears…’ He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the desk. ‘But has it blown your cover?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m pretty sure that both Vanheusen and Monique assumed that I did it just to be part of the action. And talking about action, Jason seemed to be having a good time. Did he come up with anything?’
‘Jason?’
That blank look didn’t fool me for a minute. ‘A clown with an empty-headed girl in tow, that wouldn’t have been Jason, would it?’
‘A clown. A Jason look-a-like. Really?’ He looked back at me blandly.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘Really. Not just looking like Jason, sounding like Jason, behaving like Jason. C’mon, Gerry. Level with me.’
‘Talking about Jason,’ he sidetracked expertly, ‘that bug he helped you plant on The Saucy Nancy has delivered the goods. A consignment’s arriving, in…’ he glanced at his watch, ‘…about twelve hours’ time at the little cove below the village of Masca. At 0200 hours. Just the sort of romantic spot a courting couple from Los Gigantes might choose for a bit of privacy. I’ll have Jason and a girl in the shadows among the rocks.’ He eyed me speculatively.
Jason given carte blanche to snog. There’d be no holding him back. No way was I going to spend even one second in a clinch with him. I opened my mouth to say so.
‘No, I’m not going to ask you,’ said mind-reader Burnside. ‘The smooching’s got to be for real. Can’t have you jumping up and socking him one when he gets too familiar, can we?’
Well, that was a relief.
‘He’ll use his camera phone to show us what’s going on,’ he added.
I sniggered.
‘The hand-over, I mean.’ His tone was severe, but his mouth twitched.
‘Who
’s the lucky girl, then?’
Silence.
‘Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.’ I got up. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear anything from Exclusive.’
‘Odds on you will, Deborah. That obsession of Vanheusen’s with your cat could still be a lever to keep the connection going’
I paused halfway to the door. ‘That’s just what I’m afraid of.’
He raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘A hot tip from V’s Security, something I overheard at the barbecue. It seems he’s planning a wedding for Thug Prince.’ I frowned, trying to relive the moment. ‘And there’s to be a Big Do on the 25th. I’ve a nasty feeling there’s a connection.’
‘Slapped wrist, Deborah. I don’t recall you mentioning that.’ He poised a finger over the tape machine’s replay button.
‘Sorry,’ I sighed. With all the drama of my unmasking, it had completely slipped my mind.
‘The tiniest detail can be crucial, Deborah.’
Oh dear, I’d screwed up again. I crept out.
One of Gorgonzola’s endearing little traits is that she can tune in to my moods. She was there to meet me as soon as I let myself in, rubbing herself consolingly against my legs with tiny mews of commiseration. I scooped her up and pressed my cheek into her soft fur.
‘Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen…’ I crooned in her ear. Her rough tongue rasped my face. ‘What we both need, G, is comfort for the inner woman.’ I broke open a couple of tins of tuna. I had mine on toast, she had hers in a bowl.
Later we sat companionably under the pergola on my little patio. To be more precise, I was sitting, she was standing on my lap, arching and purring contentedly as I stroked the grooming brush down her back and over her sides.
‘You gave Robocat her comeuppance all right, G, didn’t you?’
A loud, rumbling purr of agreement.
‘Do you know that Ambrose and Black Prince have designs on your body?’
A slow stre-e-tch of her forelegs, an unsheathing and sheathing of razor-sharp claws.
Perleep perleep perleep peep peep. I let my mobile ring. I’d left Extreme Travel only an hour ago so it was unlikely to be the office. It was probably only Jason moaning on about Brunhilda. Perleep perleep perleep peep peep. Or Victoria Knight with an update on her meeting about El Sueño, but I really didn’t feel up to soothing and consoling anyone just now. Perleep perleep perleep peep peep.
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