by Gemma Fox
‘Over there. It’s that bloke off the telly,’ Bernie said, pointing towards the hedge.
‘Robbie Hughes. He’s the presenter of Gotcha. He’s very good –’ Cain offered helpfully.
Christ, that was all they needed. Nimrod looked round in horror and caught a fleeting glimpse of what had startled Bernie. If they had a film crew with them then he and Cain were screwed, but no, it was just a small plump man and a skinny blonde woman who at present were standing with their mouths wide open, staring at Bernie, although Nimrod knew from experience that it wouldn’t take long for them to defrost.
Before they had the chance Nimrod caught hold of Bernie’s arm and frogmarched him to the car park. The last thing they needed right now was for Bernie Fielding to tell some investigative reporter all about their search for Nick Lucas in an attempt to save his own skinny little arse. And Nimrod didn’t doubt for a moment that that was exactly what Bernie would do if he got half a chance.
‘Get in the bleeding car. Now!’ Nimrod growled to Bernie, and Bernie did exactly as he was told, as meekly as a little lamb.
Maggie drove Nick straight out of town, up along the coast road to the little village of Selworthy without so much as a backward glance. All right, perhaps a look or two but once she was clear of the town she was almost certain that they weren’t being followed.
The irony was that it was the most beautiful day on Exmoor. The sky was cornflower-blue without a single cloud muscling in to dilute the colour, the light sharpening the edges and warming the curves of the rich green landscape. In the tiny village, sunshine reflected off the glorious white-painted cottages nestling up under their thickly thatched roofs. As Maggie eased her way into a parking space the village looked as serene and as unruffled as any place could possibly be.
But serene or not, Maggie guessed that she and Nick were sheltering in the eye of the storm and that they had to get away, but exactly how and where and for how long was totally beyond anything Maggie could get her head around. It seemed impossible to find a way out of their current predicament, and even more impossible to think straight.
Maggie couldn’t go anywhere with Nick – even if she was tempted to. She already had a life, the cottage, the boys – and part of her brain was demanding that Maggie put Nick out on the side of the road and drive away as far and as fast as she could. Good God, just how much deeper did she need to get entangled with him before she saw sense? The voice sounded a lot like her mother – which was another thing. She couldn’t leave the boys with her mum and dad indefinitely and she hadn’t rung them since she had arrived in Somerset.
It was Nick that the hit men were after, not her. Maggie hadn’t done anything, but if she continued to help him how much longer would it be before she was at risk, too? But on the other hand, how could she possibly just abandon him to the wolves? The thought of it made her heart hurt and the dilemma made her head ache.
‘Maggie?’
Maggie jumped; for a moment or two she had almost forgotten Nick was still there. Painting on a cheery smile she looked across at him.
In the passenger seat Nick looked pale and tired, and Maggie sighed. She had had only a couple of days of being hunted down, God alone knew what the effects on her would be if, like him, she had lived with the threat of discovery and death for months on end. It was amazing that he wasn’t stark-staring mad by now.
‘What is it?’ she asked gently.
He pulled her close and kissed her, clinging to her for a second. The sensation of his lips on hers made Maggie shiver. ‘You want the truth?’
She nodded while her stomach flipped over and over with desire. ‘I most certainly do.’
When Nick spoke it was as if he had been reading her mind. ‘I’ve had enough, Maggie. I’m so tired of running. I just want to go home. And I’ve had an idea; I don’t know if it’ll work but it’s got to be worth a shot.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe that wasn’t a very good choice of words.’ Pulling away he took her mobile out of his jacket pocket. ‘I’m going to ring the police and give myself up –’
She looked at him. ‘What? But I don’t understand, Nick – surely Coleman is the police?’
He shook his head, ‘No, I don’t think so, at least not directly. Coleman is part of some other government organisation but if anyone looks at my files they’ll be able to find plenty of evidence that I’ve been harassed and threatened and that I’ve been placed under protection. All of that is on the record. If I can talk to someone high enough up – even if I can’t – surely to God I’ll be safer in police custody than I am out here on the run? Someone, somewhere has to know that Coleman’s precious relocation system is leaking like a sieve – how else would those guys have found me? And if it is Coleman – well –’ He shrugged. ‘I still have to make the call, I don’t know what else to do. I haven’t got what it takes to fight them all.’
He looked across at her, his blue eyes dark with a pain that she didn’t dare fathom.
‘But what if the police don’t believe you – what if they think you’re mad?’
He laughed. ‘It’s a chance I have to take. But if I can persuade them to look at my record, even if I’m banged up in a cell for a few hours until they pull my case notes, it has got to be safer than being out here in the open.’
Maggie wasn’t so sure. ‘How about if I come in with you and tell them what I’ve seen?’
Nick shook his head. ‘I’d rather you didn’t – I don’t want you involved any more than you already are, Maggie. It’s time to let go now.’ He sounded warm but determined.
‘But – but –’ she protested, feeling her eyes fill up with tears. ‘I don’t know if I can just let you go, Nick. I am already involved. And I care. How will I know what’s happened to you? How will I be able to find you –’ Any further words stuck in her throat and one big tear rolled down over her cheek despite her best efforts to keep it back.
Nick stroked her face. ‘Please don’t cry, and don’t worry. I’ll try and find a way to let you know that I’m all right, I promise, but in return you must promise not to come looking for me or to try and contact me. Do you understand? Is it a deal?’
Maggie stared at him. ‘But –’ she began.
He shook his head. ‘But nothing –’
Maggie stared at him, unable to say the words, although it appeared Nick took her silence as agreement. Picking up the phone he rang directory enquiries and a few minutes later tapped in the number of Minehead police station.
‘Hello? Can I speak to the Duty Sergeant, please?’ he said, sounding remarkably calm.
Maggie heard the low rumble of a reply at the far end of the line and then Nick said, ‘Yes, of course. My name is Nick Lucas; please could you tell him that it’s urgent.’
Maggie couldn’t bear to hear Nick trying to explain what was going on. Where on earth do you start to try and tell a stranger how your life has been torn apart, and how the very people meant to help appeared to be the ones who were out to get you? Said out loud it sounded mad and paranoid and beyond the realms of reason, so while Nick waited to be connected Maggie got out of the car and made her way slowly up into the village, eyes still full of tears. How the hell had she got herself into a mess like this?
The cottages of Selworthy with their deep thatched roofs, eyebrow dormers and tall chimneys were almost too picturesque. It looked as if nothing ever ruffled Selworthy. It was a place Maggie had been to time and time again over the years, exquisitely beautiful, with gardens basking in full bloom in the summer sunlight.
The peace of the place made Maggie ache with a pain she had no name for. It was still quite early in the day but even so the village had a few walkers and tourists exploring and enjoying the views.
Waiting was hard. Maggie sat on a low wall and watched the world go by for a while, her mind clouded by random thoughts, fears and ideas, until at last she saw Nick making his way slowly up the hill towards her. He smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. As Maggie’s mind focused on him she realised with
a terrible sense of certainty that she could really love this man given half a chance. Really, truly love him. How cruel was that?
‘And how did it go?’ she said, making an attempt to sound cheerful.
‘Well, it took a while to get through – but the long and short of it is that they want me to come in to the police station as soon as possible.’
‘That’s got a familiar ring to it,’ she said with a wry smile.
Nick sighed. ‘Don’t. I don’t know what else to do, Maggie. The guy was sceptical at first but then they transferred the call through to someone higher up the food chain. It took a while to make them fully understand what was going on, and then the penny seemed to drop at their end – and I don’t know –’ Nick held up his hands in surrender. ‘I don’t see that I have that many other choices.’
‘Okay,’ Maggie said as gently as she could. She could hear the uneasy, nervous edge in his voice. What was the point in torturing him over an already impossible situation? ‘In that case we had better get you back to town then. Is there anywhere you want to go or anything you’d like to do before you give yourself up?’ she asked.
Nick’s face broadened out into a grin. ‘Actually I can think of lots of things I’d like to do, but I’d prefer it if we had the chance to do them somewhere a little less public.’ Maggie blushed crimson and then he blushed, too. ‘Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said that – it’s a bit presumptuous, and there is also the little matter of time. It just seems so unfair –’
‘Tell me about it,’ said Maggie.
‘The other thing is I’ve already told the police that I’d come in straight away.’ She looked up at him expectantly and he continued, ‘Actually it was their suggestion; they said the sooner I was under police protection, the better for everyone concerned.’
Maggie looked away. Easy for them to say.
‘So, tell me, Sherlock – did you get the number of Ms Morgan’s car?’ said Coleman in disgust when it became quite obvious that the away team had lost Nick Lucas and Maggie when they left the park.
‘I most certainly did, Sir,’ the man growled indignantly, and pulled out his notebook.
‘Good, well in that case,’ said Coleman, producing his mobile and tapping in a number. ‘Let me have it.’ And then into the phone he said, ‘I’d like to report a stolen vehicle please.’ Coleman spoke briskly into the handset. ‘Yes, about five minutes ago from the public car park outside Blenheim Gardens, Minehead, Somerset. It’s a navy-blue Golf – registered I presume to one Ms Margaret Morgan. I want the occupants stopped and detained, my clearance codes are –’
At the far end of the line Dorothy Crow said very calmly, ‘You don’t need clearance codes with me, Danny. Not going well down there?’
Coleman snorted as he took the notebook from the boy’s hands. ‘You could say that. Hang on – he flipped through the pages past a doodle of a small cartoon dog that appeared to be winking. Bloody kids. ‘Have you got a pen there, Dorothy?’
‘I most certainly do – and I’ll have her car up and on the wire as soon as you put the phone down.’
Coleman sighed and read out the registration number.
‘Can you still see Bernie’s car?’ said Lesley, stretching up in her seat and peering myopically into the distance as they headed slowly through the centre of town.
‘I most certainly can,’ said Robbie confidently, his mood lifting considerably now that their prey was in plain sight. ‘And I plan to stick to that car like shit to a blanket until they pull over. You have got the video camera all ready, haven’t you?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Lesley, tapping the machine cradled in her lap. ‘I’ve been thinking, do you think we should phone in to the studio and let them know where we are? Make sure they’re ready for any footage we pick up?’
Robbie shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled off the chase by that bloody harridan upstairs. ‘No, not yet. We’ll ring when we’ve got the whole thing on tape. I hope we can get enough for a half-decent segment – Bernie looks very uneasy at the moment, which could very well be to our advantage. Maybe we should corner him if the opportunity presents itself and push for an interview, after all his ex-wife did say he was very keen to talk to someone. You know what they say, confession is good for the soul, and those guys he’s with do look very dodgy – they can’t be up to any good.’
‘Who, the two men or Bernie?’
‘All of them by the looks of it,’ Robbie said confidently. ‘Although the two heavies he’s with look a cut above your average villain. I just wonder if Bernie has finally got himself in too deep – finally got in out of his depth. I’d like to be a fly on the wall in that car and hear what’s going down.’
Lesley pulled a face. She still wasn’t totally au fait with all the patois that went with the territory.
‘Going down – going on,’ he translated, ‘you know, what it is that they’re up to.’
Lesley nodded, ‘Oh right, yes, I’m with you. Me, too.’
In the silver-grey hire car Nimrod handed Bernie a Minto as they drove slowly up the main street and along the esplanade.
‘I could murder a hot dog,’ said Cain, looking out onto the busy seaside frontage. ‘Smell them onions.’
‘…a dark blue VW Golf, registration number Lema Foxtrot…’ the measured voice of the police controller on the radio scanner was busy saying, fading in and out and interspersed with regular beeps and crackles as the signal fluctuated, ‘…driven by a white female, medium height, mid-thirties, with dark hair; and male passenger, dark hair mid-thirties, approx six foot. All units are requested…’ Crackle, hiss, pop ‘…the occupants are to be stopped and detained…it is unlikely they will put up any resistance…’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ said Nimrod triumphantly, turning up the volume. ‘That’s them, we’ve got them. The control room are talking about Nick Lucas and –’ he jerked a thumb towards Bernie in the back seat, ‘– his ex-missus. They’ve come up on the police frequency – APB –’
Bernie grunted. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘Come on, Bernie, some kind of bad guy you turned out to be. All points bulletin. Coat man at the park must have some bloody clout to pull that off. In that case your missus and Lucas can’t have got too far away if they’re calling the local plod out to pick them up – and that heap your old lady’s driving probably won’t go more than fifty. We just need to hang tight and wait to see who calls them in.’
The radio crackled furiously.
‘You’re going to take Lucas out with the law on the job?’ asked Cain in surprise.
Nimrod sighed. ‘Come on, who’s going to stop us? A couple of country coppers? The chances are if we can pick the call up early enough we’ll be there before them anyway – we’ll be in and out –’
‘– And home in time for tea and buns,’ concluded Cain.
Nimrod nodded. ‘Yeah, right – I couldn’t have put it better myself. We’ll play it by ear. All we have to do now is park up somewhere, wait and listen. Look over there – there’s a space.’
Robbie eased into another parking space, no more than a hundred yards away from Bernie and his companions. Within seconds Lesley had got the men in the sight of her telephoto lens and was clicking away.
‘So what are they doing?’ Robbie asked, frustrated, trying to persuade her to part with the camera by beckoning towards her.
Lesley, face screwed up in a mask of concentration, sighed. ‘It’s very difficult to tell from here but it looks to me as if they are listening to the radio.’
Robbie groaned. ‘The radio, what do you mean listening to the radio? Are you sure? What do you think they’re doing, taking part in a phone-in pop quiz?’
Lesley turned to stare at him. ‘You asked me what they were doing and I just told you.’ Her tone was icy.
Robbie sniffed. ‘There’s no need to get shirty with me, Lesley. I was only asking.’
Undeterred, Lesley held the camera back up to her eye. ‘Do you th
ink, now that they’re parked up we should go over and confront him? I mean he’s a sitting duck over there –’
Robbie shook his head. ‘No, it would be far too easy for them to drive away; besides in my experience there is no such thing as a sitting duck. Who knows what we’ll catch them doing if we bide our time for a while longer. No, we’ll sit tight. I’d really like to see what they’re up to –’
‘But how are we going to know?’
Robbie grimaced; the woman really had no imagination at all. ‘We’re going to sit and we’re going to watch and meanwhile give me the camera and turn on the radio.’
‘What do you want to listen to?’
Robbie sighed. ‘I don’t want to listen to anything, I want you to go through all the stations until you find something that sounds as if those lot over there might want to listen to it.’
‘Right – only there is something on Woman’s Hour I’d like to listen to later on if you don’t mind. I’ve been following the serial.’
Robbie glared at her and without another word Lesley pressed the buttons that would scan through the radio channels.
15
Maggie drove slowly away from Selworthy back towards Minehead town centre. The sea still reflected the unbroken cloudless blue above. The sun shone, the coastal strand edging the sweeping coastline looking for all the world like a golden collar, the rolling feminine lines of the Somerset landscape oddly accentuated by the white, tented skyline of the all-weather holiday resort down on the seafront. It was the most perfect summer’s day.
Below them Minehead was on holiday. Surrounded by great swathes of woodland, the seaside town basked in the morning sunlight and it was hard not to contrast Nick’s nightmarish-situation with the simple pleasures of families busy on an old-fashioned beach holiday.
Maggie slowed the car, wanting to delay the moment when it all finally ended. Alongside her Nick sat in total silence, his gaze apparently unfocused while his mind was who knows where.