Wheel of Fire Page 17

  Her rage was directed at her father for his obduracy, at the extent of the fire damage which had exceeded her worst expectations, and at her own sense of helplessness and terrible foreboding.

  Still struggling to control her tears she reached for her mobile. Then she thought better of it and put the phone away, started the motor, swung the car and began the drive back towards Taunton, still wondering exactly what she should do next.

  At the top of Whiteball Hill, on the A38, she turned right into the lane that led down to Sampford Arundel, where she knew there was still a telephone kiosk. She parked up, and fished around for some coins in her pocket. The ever-threatening rain of the past couple of days was finally falling heavily again. She hurried to the phone box and dialled a number which she read off her mobile. It was the number she had consistently been trying to reach.

  This time a man’s voice answered.

  ‘At last,’ said Bella.

  ‘OK. Before we start, no names, not mine, not yours, not anybody’s, agreed?’

  ‘I’m in a bloody call box.’

  ‘I know, that’s why I answered.’

  ‘I’ve been trying to call you for two days.’

  ‘Yes, from your mobile. Not only did I tell you never to do that, I also thought we had agreed we would not be in touch until this was all over.’

  ‘I think a fire that claimed two lives has rather changed that, don’t you?’ riposted Bella, the sarcasm heavy in her voice.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said the voice. ‘It’s all the same, it’s what we wanted. A timely accident really. Things have just happened more quickly, that’s all. Probably exactly what we needed.’

  ‘It’s not the bloody same, and it’s not what I bloody needed.’

  Bella knew she was shouting down the phone. She couldn’t help it.

  ‘Blackdown has been burned to the ground, and the police and the fire service are already pretty damned sure the fire was started deliberately—’

  ‘Accidents do happen, my dear,’ the voice interrupted calmly. ‘Please try not to worry. Everything’s going to be all right. I have it all under control.’

  ‘How? How on earth could you have anything under control? People have been killed. And for nothing. Everything we need has been destroyed. The Taunton solicitor, he didn’t have the will. He said he thought it was in that bloody storeroom. I’ve just been to the house, inside the place, or inside what’s left of it. It’s just rubble, the storeroom isn’t there any more, I can’t see how the will or any of those papers could possibly have survived, let alone all the beautiful things that were in the house, even the Gainsborough must have been destroyed for God’s sake. And without those papers I don’t know what we are going to do …’

  ‘Not everything.’

  ‘What do you mean, not everything?’

  ‘Trust me, dear girl. There are still people who will do whatever is needed. The most important of the stored papers and, uh, certain other items, were removed before the fire. They will be forwarded to you in due course, so that you can get on with your job. The business is all that matters …’

  Bella barely heard the last few words. She was still struggling to take in the import of what had been said first.

  ‘That means you did know, you did know about the fire,’ she blurted out. ‘That it really wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes it bloody does. I wondered. Of course I did. I didn’t want it to be true, but I feared it. And I was right. It’s pretty damned obvious. You started it, didn’t you? Or more likely you got …’ Bella paused, remembering the instruction not to use names, and accepting she should obey it. For the time being, anyway. ‘… got a certain person to do it for you. Why don’t you just admit it?’

  The man on the other end of the line emitted an audible sigh. ‘Well, clearly, if anyone started that fire deliberately it probably was the person you are referring to. The police seem to think so. He presumably had his own motives, totally unrelated to ours. He was always a dodgy character, wasn’t he? And it really doesn’t matter either way. It’s all the better for our plans, that’s what matters.’

  ‘Not my bloody plans.’

  ‘Oh yes, your bloody plans too. You are in on this, my dear. And you have been throughout. Aren’t you forgetting that?’

  It was true. Absolutely true. But not like this, never like this. Why had she allowed herself to become involved in this crazy plan? Bella realised she was trembling.

  ‘I didn’t know the half of it, did I?’ she shouted into the phone. ‘I didn’t know anybody was going to die. There wasn’t supposed to be a fire that would take two lives. That’s double murder – which I did not sign up for …’

  ‘Casualties of war,’ said the voice calmly.

  ‘We’re not at bloody war,’ stormed Bella. ‘Never mind saving the company, never mind the money, we’re going to jail, all of us …’

  Bella’s words came tumbling out in a torrent. It wasn’t like her, but she was in shock and she knew that she sounded hysterical.

  The voice that interrupted her was calm.

  ‘We are not going to jail. None of us can ever be proven guilty of anything.’

  ‘Really. I’ve just learned about the third death. This whole thing is going from bad to worse.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘As if you don’t know, the body of a certain person was found in a canal in West London this morning. His death is being treated by the police as suspicious.’

  ‘I didn’t know that. So, what do you think I had to do with it? Do you think I pushed him in?’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ll tell you something you really may not be aware of. I don’t know how much this man knew about the whole operation, and I don’t know exactly what he did, or what he meant to do. But I can tell you one thing, I’m pretty sure his wife does.’

  There was a brief silence.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.’

  ‘I’m trying to say that if you killed him because of what he did and what he knew, then you’re probably going to have to kill his poor bloody wife, too,’ Bella stormed.

  ‘Really. I still don’t understand you.’

  ‘Oh, I think you do. But let me spell it out. I’ve seen the wife this evening. Her last words to me were “this wasn’t supposed to happen”. Then she clammed up. And she looked pretty damned terrified, as well she might, I suspect.’

  ‘I see.’

  The voice on the other end of the line sounded relaxed and non-committal.

  ‘Do you?’ Bella wasn’t hysterical any more, just plain furious. ‘Well, I wish I damned well did. You seem to have tricked everyone around you, including me. Situation normal, in fact.’

  ‘I have tricked no one. You did sign up for this. Half of it was your idea.’

  ‘Half of it maybe. Not the half that involved three murders.’

  ‘I think you may be exaggerating, my dear.’

  ‘Exaggerating? How the hell do you exaggerate death? I’ve had enough. I’m not sure I can carry on with any of this, and I can’t continue this conversation, either—’

  Bella was interrupted yet again by the still calm voice. ‘Please don’t do anything rash, dear, will you? Remember you’re in this as deeply as anyone.’

  Maybe it was the continuing calmness of that voice that finally did it. Bella just hung up.

  SIXTEEN

  Detective Sergeant Ted Dawson was in bed at his Wellington home and had just dropped off to sleep when the call came a few minutes after midnight.

  It was control at Taunton police station.

  ‘We’ve just had a 999 call from Janice Grey, out at Blackdown Manor, widow of that feller they pulled from a lock off the Thames, says there are armed intruders out there.’

  Ted Dawson was suddenly wide awake.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘What d
o you want me to do?’

  ‘We wondered if you could take a run out there, have a look, as you’re close. We’re taking it seriously, obviously, we’re sending a patrol car around and armed response are on their way. So, don’t do anything rash. Just have a bit of a reccy. The woman’s in quite a state. We haven’t been able to get much sense out of her. But it could well be nothing. Apparently there were reports of armed intruders on the night of the fire, but nobody could find any evidence of that.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ted Dawson. ‘All part of the mystery.’

  ‘Yes, and this could be another false alarm. But the boss says be careful.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ted Dawson.

  He left the house almost immediately. There was very little traffic. It took him a scant half hour to reach Blackdown Manor. As he approached he switched off his headlights. There was a watery moon giving a faint but indispensable light.

  He continued to motor slowly toward the start of the drive, and The Gatehouse. The engine was barely ticking over. He just hoped he would be neither heard nor seen, if indeed there were intruders about.

  When he reached the point in the road from which he could see The Gatehouse he slowed to a halt, switched off the engine, and wound down the driver’s window to give himself a better view. The curtains were drawn but he could see chinks of light in at least a couple of rooms. At a glance, everything seemed normal. There did not seem to be a parked vehicle anywhere, other than the Range Rover in the driveway which he was pretty sure belonged to the Greys. But then, he reflected, if he were planning an uninvited entry into somebody else’s home under cover of darkness, he would not park his vehicle right outside.

  Just as he was pondering whether to risk approaching the house, the front door opened. Quite suddenly. A shadowy figure, clad in either black or very dark clothes, hurried out into the garden. Was this one of the reported intruders? It seemed likely, but was he armed? He was definitely clutching something that could be a handgun. Ted couldn’t quite see, and was really only assuming that the shadowy figure was a man. A man who seemed to be looking for something. Or someone. Mrs Grey, perhaps?

  The man pulled open the door of a shed to the left of the house, and seemed to look inside. Then he scooted around to the right of the house, briefly disappearing from sight. After a minute or so he reappeared and began to run towards the road – directly at Ted Dawson.

  It was inevitable that he would see Ted’s vehicle. And if he was armed, then Ted would be a sitting duck. Ted quickly switched on his engine and his headlights and leaned on the horn. The black-clad figure, face concealed by a balaclava of some sort, froze for just a second or two in the glare of the lights. To Ted’s alarm, he definitely was carrying a hand gun, which he suddenly levelled at the windscreen of Ted’s vehicle. Moving faster than he had in years, Ted stepped on the accelerator and drove straight at the armed man, who leapt to the left, ran back into the garden of The Gatehouse, and then along the path that led around to the back of the house.

  Ted pulled to a halt, but kept his engine running and his headlights on for a minute or two. Then, when the man failed to reappear, he switched off his engine, and sat listening. The intruder – or intruders Mrs Grey had said – must have a vehicle parked somewhere, surely. Blackdown Manor was quite remote. Nobody would have walked there.

  He was listening for an engine to start. At first he heard only silence. Then the sound of an engine, but not one being started up. Instead what Ted could hear was a vehicle approaching along the road outside the manor, possibly more than one. The palms of his hands were sweaty, as was the back of his neck. Ted Dawson wasn’t armed. If this was the intruders’ vehicle approaching, he was in no way prepared or able to deal with them. But surely they wouldn’t come back, would they? After all, they didn’t know he was alone and unarmed, he tried to reassure himself. Nonetheless he was worried. He wondered if he had time to turn his car around and take off in the opposite direction. But he could now see headlights approaching, and they were very close. He had no time at all. He switched his own headlights off. At least he wouldn’t be quite such an easy target. The vehicle drew to a halt just the other side of The Gatehouse. It was a police Range Rover, almost certainly an Armed Response Vehicle.

  Ted heaved a huge sigh of relief, stepped out of his car and walked towards the ARV, holding up his warrant card in one hand.

  ‘Police,’ he called. ‘DC Ted Dawson.’

  He was half blinded by the beam of a powerful torch.

  ‘Over here,’ called a voice from somewhere behind it.

  Ted hurried over. He didn’t think he’d ever been quite so glad to see anyone in his entire life before as this AR team.

  He gave the team leader, who introduced himself as Sergeant Phil Phillips, a rundown of the events he had witnessed.

  ‘Any sign of the woman?’ asked Phillips. ‘The woman who called this in?’

  ‘No,’ said Ted Dawson. ‘Not that I’ve seen anyway.’

  Ted knew that Phillips must be thinking what he was thinking. Would they find Janice Grey alive? And might there still be armed men in the house? Ted had only seen one man. It seemed that Janice Grey had indicated that there had been more than one. But she had, understandably, been in a panic.

  ‘OK, you stay here, with our vehicle,’ said Phillips.

  He turned to his team.

  ‘Mark, you stay with DC Dawson, and watch our backs. Ray, Johnno, you two with me.’

  And with that he led the two officers, at a crouched run, towards The Gatehouse. The door was still ajar. Phillips kicked it wide open with one foot.

  ‘Armed police,’ he called loudly. Then again: ‘Armed police. If there is anyone in the house come out now. If you are armed, put down your arms. Come out with your hands up.’

  No one emerged. There continued to appear to be no sign of life inside the house. No sound. No movement.

  Almost immediately Phil Phillips led his little team inside.

  Ted was full of apprehension as he watched and waited. It seemed like a very long time before the AR team emerged from the house, but was probably only four or five minutes.

  They were alone. No armed men, and no Janice Grey. But that did not necessarily mean she wasn’t still inside. And if she was, she was likely to be either dead or seriously injured, Ted suspected.

  ‘Have you found the woman, have you found Mrs Grey?’ he blurted out anxiously.

  ‘No, the house is empty,’ replied Phillips. ‘There’s nobody there at all.’

  They found Janice Grey at dawn the next morning. She was alive. Although suffering from exposure and nervous exhaustion.

  A preliminary search had been launched as soon as AR had declared the immediate area clear, but after a couple of hours or so had been called off until daylight. Constable Joe Curry, twenty-two and fresh from police college, was one of those assigned to search the ruins of the manor house.

  They found Mrs Grey cowering in an exposed part of the basement area of the old house, hiding beneath a tepee of half collapsed beams. She was in a state of total terror.

  ‘Police, we’re the police,’ shouted Constable Curry. ‘It’s all right you’re safe now. We’re here.’

  It took several minutes and the help of two other officers to quieten the woman. She was quite hysterical. At first, she seemed unable to grasp that the danger she had faced during the preceding night was no longer present.

  ‘You’re safe, really, you’re quite safe,’ said Joe Curry, for the umpteenth time.

  Janice Grey looked at him with frightened eyes, but eyes which did at least appear to be finally seeing the young constable. It seemed, however, that she remained unconvinced.

  ‘Safe?’ she queried. ‘I’m not safe. And I never will be again.’

  ‘We’re going to look after you,’ continued Joe, oblivious to the somewhat amused looks he was receiving from his more seasoned colleagues. ‘We’re going to get you to hospital and have you checked out, then we’ll take it
from there.’

  Janice Grey was barely listening. ‘They’ll get me,’ she said. ‘I escaped this time, I won’t again.’

  A paramedic team was approaching.

  Suddenly the woman stood up, finding strength which totally took young Joe aback.

  ‘I don’t want them,’ she said, pointing at the paramedics. ‘They can’t help me. I want Detective Inspector Vogel. I want to tell him everything.’

  Vogel had already arrived at Blackdown by the time Janice Grey was found. He and Saslow had been awoken in the early hours, and had delayed their trip to London once they learned of the night’s events at Blackdown. They were standing outside The Gatehouse, drinking welcome paper cups of coffee poured from huge thermos flasks provided for the search team, when they learned that Janice had been located. And that she was alive.

  ‘She wants to talk to you,’ the team leader told him. ‘Now.’

  ‘C’mon, Saslow,’ said Vogel at once, abandoning his coffee. ‘Let’s get to her before she changes her mind.’

  The two officers hurried to their car and Saslow drove as fast as she dared down the driveway, which had at least now been cleared of all remaining debris from the storm.

  Mrs Grey, wrapped in a thermal blanket, was being helped from the ruins of the old manor by two women paramedics. She spotted Vogel as soon as he stepped out of his car, and at once attempted to shake herself free of her supporters.

  ‘Let me go,’ she cried. ‘Let me go. I have to speak to Mr Vogel. Right away.’

  The paramedics tried to restrain her. ‘We need to get you to hospital first,’ said the taller of the two women.

  ‘No, no,’ shouted Janice, who appeared close to hysteria again. ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve spoken to Mr Vogel,’ she repeated.

  By then, Vogel was at the woman’s side. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Grey,’ he said. ‘I’m here.’

  He placed a calming hand on the woman’s arms, then turned slightly to address the paramedics. ‘Why don’t you just give us ten minutes before you take Mrs Grey away?’ he said. ‘In your ambulance or our car. And somebody get her a hot drink or something.’