Текст книги "Trail of Greed"

Автор книги: John Dysart

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“Shhh!” she said. “Just go to sleep. They’ve gone. You’re safe now.”

I felt her wrap me up in her body and I slid off into sleep.

Chapter 18

I was awakened the next morning by the noise of the door opening and Maggie came in bearing a tray.

“Good morning,” she said breezily. “I’ve brought you some breakfast if you’re up to it.”

It took me a few minutes to register where I was. Two days ago I had been in my garden weeding the rose beds. Now I was lying in a strange bed – somewhere. Then the drastic events of the last two days came back to me. Coming to in the middle of wild mountains. My night out in the cold. My struggle back to the road.

I had been picked up by someone and brought here. This friendly woman was Maggie. She had looked after me, bathed me and put me to bed. Now she was bringing me breakfast. It was all too much.

This all flashed through my mind in a second or two. Then I recollected my dream of Liz and I lay still and smiled for a moment or two

“Maggie, where am I? I’m sorry but I haven’t a clue.” She looked surprised. “You’re in Lochbervie.” “And where’s that?” “It’s roughly bang in the middle of the Cairngorms.” I looked blankly at her “The Cairngorms?” “Yes.” I struggled painfully into a half sitting position and looked at her. She was standing beside the bed with a smile on her face.

“You need to eat something,” she said. “I’ve made you some toast and boiled you an egg. And there’s orange juice and tea.”

She put the tray down carefully on the bedside table and helped me to sit up properly. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling?”

“Much better thanks,” I replied. “What time is it?” “About nine,” she replied, pulling back the curtains. Outside the window I could see that the sun had started its daily chore of lighting up the landscape and warming up the air.

“I’d better get up,” I said and turned to swing my legs out of the bed. It was then that I realised I was naked. I stopped.

“You just have your breakfast and you can get up when you feel like it,” said Maggie.

As I pulled the breakfast tray across onto my lap I suddenly noticed that the second pillow beside me had been disturbed. In fact the rest of the bed seemed to bear evidence of having been occupied. I looked at it with a puzzled frown and then I looked at Maggie. She showed no reaction but moved the tray gently onto my lap and left the room with a quiet smile.

My dream resurfaced. It was still clear and vivid. Or perhaps it had not been all dream. Maybe there had been some reality mixed up in there? There was no way I could be sure so I shrugged my shoulders and, realising that I was ravenous, attacked the food.

As I ate I started to think about what I was going to do next. I had to inform Mike and Pierre of my predicament. I needed to plan with them what we should do about Dewar. But first of all I had to recover. In the state I was in that might take a few days.

I got myself out of bed with a great deal of difficulty and a considerable amount of pain. I went in to the bathroom. There was a toothbrush and some toothpaste. There was soap. There was a full-length mirror. I looked at myself. I was a mess. I took in the state of my feet, my scarred hands and the scratches on my body. I also discovered, looking around, that I had no clothes. There was a large soft towelling dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. I put it on and sat down for a few minutes. Then I got up and went over and looked out of the window. Nothing but mountains in all directions.

I had no alternative but to go downstairs in the dressing gown. I picked up the tray and made my way slowly downtairs listening carefully. There seemed to be no one else around.

Maggie was in the reception area. Barefoot I made no noise coming down the stairs. I cleared my throat so as not to give her a fright and emerged into the hallway with the tray.

“That was a magnificent breakfast,” I said, when she looked up.

“Good. You seem better this morning.” “Much better, thanks to you,” I said. “By the way, my name is Bob. I don’t think I was in a state to tell you that last night. Bob Bruce.”

“Nice to meet you, Bob. Just put the tray down there. I’ll take it into the kitchen in a minute.”

“Maggie, could I ask you what you’ve done with my clothes?”

“They’ve all been washed and are in the dryer. They’ll be dry in about half an hour.”

“I feel I owe you an explanation about how I came to be brought here last night,” I said.

Maggie came round from behind her desk. “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’ll take this away” indicating the tray. “Why don’t you sit in there while I make us both a cup of coffee and then you can tell me all about it?”

She disappeared through a door and I went into the room she had indicated and found myself in a snug little lounge. I took the most comfortable looking armchair available and thought about what I should do now. I knew I was going to be fine, if uncomfortable for a few days. I didn’t need a doctor. My scratched body was not a real problem – more an annoyance. My hands would do. The big problem was my feet. I thought it would be a while before I could do much walking and I was going to need a softer pair of shoes.

I must, however, phone someone to come and pick me up. Heather was probably nearest.

Maggie came in a few minutes later with two mugs of steaming coffee and sat down in one of the other armchairs. I looked at her. She looked as fresh as a Highland morning and was looking across at me solicitously.

“Shall I tell you my story?” I asked. Without going into too much detail I explained how I had apparently got on the wrong side of someone who had seemingly arranged for me to be kidnapped and dumped in the mountains. I didn’t bother about all the background and said that I thought the people who had done this had probably only done it to frighten me. I didn’t want Maggie thinking that it had been attempted murder, even although I was sure that that was what it was.

“The first thing I have to do is inform my sister so that she can come and pick me up because I have no means of transport. She lives in Doune. How long would it take her to get here?”

Maggie reckoned it would be about two hours. “There’s a phone over there you can use.”

I dialled Heather’s number and it was promptly answered.

“Heather, it’s Bob. I have a slight problem which I wondered if you could help me with. I’m up in the Cairngorms and my car has broken down. Is there any chance you could come and pick me up?”

I didn’t want to tell her the whole story over the phone. It would only worry her.

“Does it need to be today? I’ve got the boys. Unless I bring them too.”

“No, don’t do that. If you can’t come today . . . Let me think . . .”

I looked over at Maggie who was leafing through a magazine, not wanting to pry on my conversation. The pages stopped turning.

“And you can’t do tomorrow either?” “No.”

“What about the day after?” The pages started turning again and although her head was bent down I could just discern a small smile flitting across her face.

“Fine. You need to come to the hotel in Lochbervie and I’ll see you at the beginning of the afternoon. And, by the way, if Mike or Pierre calls you, tell them I’ll phone them when I get back.”

I put the receiver back. “That’s alright, isn’t it?” “Of course,” said Maggie comfortingly. “I don’t have any bookings this week so you can take it easy and recover properly.”

She fetched my clothes when they were dry and I was able to go up and get dressed. We found some bandages and some ointment to treat my feet and she managed to produce a much too large pair of trainers which I could get my bandaged feet into.

“They used to belong to my son,” she explained, “But he left a few things behind when he went away.”

That led on to her recounting to me a bit about herself. She had two sons, twenty-eight and twenty-two. One, who had joined the Merchant Navy, was at the moment somewhere on the other side of the world and the other was working down in London.

“My husband left me six years ago and went off with his new partner to Glasgow. He didn’t really fit into the landscape here and, as soon as the boys left, he moved out. These things happen. The hotel was my father’s and I manage to make ends meet with it even although it’s a bit off the beaten track.”

Over a glass of wine in the bar I told her a short version of my story – about Liz and Callum, what I had done with my life, where I now lived and the ways I passed my time.

Maggie suggested lunch so we repaired to the kitchen and found some pâté in the fridge. My hunger had come back and I needed to make up for the last two days.

“How are the feet now?” she asked. “Up to a short walk?”

“As long as it’s on paths and the mist doesn’t come down,” I said ruefully.

We found another of her son’s left behinds – an anorak that was about my size and went out by the back of the hotel, locking everything up behind us.

We managed about two miles. My feet started to ease up after fifteen minutes or so and we profited from the warm sun, the wonderful views and got back to the hotel later in the afternoon, refreshed and relaxed.

It had been as pleasant an afternoon as I had had since Liz had died. I realised what a difference female company is compared to chatting with the lads at the golf club whose only topics of conversation seem to be sport or politics. Conversation was easy with Maggie. She was starved of it up here in the hills, she told me.

“You’ve no idea how the locals are not really interested in anything that happens more than about fifty miles away. Talk about navel-gazing. The Highlander’s breadth of interest seems to be not much further than the next mountain!”

I suppose it was inevitable. A cozy comfortable supper in the bar – Maggie found a good bottle of wine in the cellar. We both cleared away and washed up and coffee and whisky were produced. We sat in the small lounge and had our drinks. When they were finished she looked across at me.

“Bed-time?” There was no need to say any more. I nodded. After all, why not? Maggie was a warm and loving woman and she needed love as much as anyone else. The shock of the last two days had made me vulnerable, so without a word she slipped her hand into mine and we went upstairs. I honestly felt sure that Liz would have understood.

It was quiet and gentle love-making. None of the frenzied passion of the young but a night of giving. Each of us seemed to want to give the other as much physical pleasure as possible – the joy of giving and the joy of receiving, shared in equal measure. The years of experience we had between us combined to make the music elegant and beautiful – rising and falling like a Mendelssohn symphony as opposed to a piece of hard rock.

Afterwards Maggie snuggled up to me, resting her head on my shoulder. I gently smoothed down her hair to stop it from tickling my nose.

“Thank you,” she whispered softly in my ear, and her eyes closed. Her breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep.

I lay awake for a while staring at the ceiling and smiling. There had been no one since Liz had gone, nor had there been anyone else while she had been alive. Making love to someone else was a novel experience. It was also nice to know that I could still make someone happy, even if only for one night.

We spent the next day quietly. Maggie diligently went about her day’s business. She had to go out to get some supplies so I had an hour on my own to reflect on what had happened to me and what I would do next, once I was fully back on my feet.

I decided I would foist myself on Heather for a couple of days. I didn’t think she would mind. Mike and Pierre could come over to discuss next steps. I wondered whether Mike would bring Sophie. I didn’t want to think about Purdy and Dewar until I was back in Doune.

Maggie made lunch and we chatted comfortably, adding, bit by bit, more flesh onto the skeleton stories of our lives that we had described the day before.

We walked for an hour in the afternoon and I dozed in the lounge while she did some catching up on the hotel’s administration. There were no guests checking in that day either which suited us just fine.

Supper, a bit of television and another night just as wonderful for both of us as the night before.

As promised, Heather turned up just after lunch the next day, muttering about irresponsible brothers who didn’t keep their cars properly serviced. I introduced her to Maggie, who then left us alone so that I could tell my sister the proper story.

She didn’t know the story of Purdy and AIM so I had to explain it to her. I recounted it as briefly as I could – Pierre’s experience with AIM, my performance at the Conference, the hacking of their systems and the proof of wrong-doing. I then came to the bit about the bomb.

“Goodness” I think was the term she used. “Do you mean you might have been killed?”

“It looked a bit like that at the time. That’s why we did what we did next.”

“Which was?” When I described how we had grabbed Purdy and put him through his trial and “persuaded” him to right all the wrongs he had done she had a hard time believing it.

“And so what are you doing up here?” I told her simply that someone had grabbed me and carted me up here and dumped me in the mountains. I had to explain that it had taken me a couple of days to get down to here and that I needed a few more days to recover. Would it be ok if I came and stayed with her until the weekend?

“Bloody hell! This Purdy man has tried to bump you off with a car bomb and then someone dumped you up in the mountains! It’s incredible! You’ll have to go to the police – and straight away!”

“Look, let me rest up with you for a couple of days. We’ll get Pierre and Mike over and discuss it and then decide what to do. OK?”

“Well, I suppose so,” she replied. Maggie came through and offered us a cup of tea which was gratefully accepted. I told Heather how Maggie had been very good to me when I had turned up on her doorstep, but didn’t go into any detail.

Heather and Maggie chatted amiably while I sat back and watched them, only half listening. Retelling the story to Heather had got my mind going in the direction of Bill bloody Dewar.

We prepared to leave. Heather thanked Maggie for looking after me.

“Don’t worry, it was a pleasure.”

I added my thanks and gave her a hug and a tender kiss on the forehead and got into the car. We were just about to get in the car when I remembered I was still wearing her son’s trainers.

“Nearly forgot,” I said, bending down to start to undo the shoe laces.

She put her hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about them. You can give them back to me next time you’re passing through.”

Chapter 19

Heather didn’t say much on the drive back to Doune. Nor did I. I was still thinking about my ordeal. I was still full of memories of the last two days with Maggie. I was also trying to decide how to get my revenge on Dewar.

I soon dozed off. By the time we got back to the farm it was early evening. The grandchildren had been recovered by their mother and Heather, Oliver and I had the evening to ourselves.

We ate companionably around the large pine table in the kitchen. I was at last able to take a mental step back from all that had happened over the last few days. Heather’s beef casserole, the wine and cheese did wonders for my wellbeing. Thoughts of Maggie didn’t do any harm either.

During the meal I went over the whole story again to let Oliver in on the situation.

“Sounds like Pierre has brought you a bunch of trouble,” was his comment. “I can understand what you’ve done to Purdy and I hope all these people he screwed appreciate it but you’ve now got this man Dewar trying to exterminate you. That is pretty serious isn’t it?”

“Well, he hasn’t succeeded. He won’t know that yet but, even if he did, he can’t possibly know where I am now. I’ll just lie low for a few days, if you guys don’t mind. Is it OK if I call Pierre and Mike and get them to come down tomorrow so that we can decide what we’re going to do about him?”

Heather replied, “Of course it’s alright, but aren’t you going to go to the police?”

“We’ll see. Not yet. Anyway I’ve got absolutely no proof against Dewar and, as for Purdy, as far as I am concerned that problem is resolved.”

I made my two phone calls. I apologized that I had not been able to be in touch for the last two days but I would explain everything if they would come over to Heather’s tomorrow for lunch.

Then I had another thought. It would perhaps be a good idea if Mac and Doug came as well. They’d been watching Dewar and might have some insight that would be useful. I asked Heather and suggested that we could do a barbecue and thrash out the whole thing together.

“Fine,” said Heather.

“We’ll be eight then,” I said. “How come eight?” she asked. “I make it seven – us two, you and Pierre and Mike and his two cowboys.”

“Just cater for eight,” I said and went off to phone Mike to get him to get Doug and Mac to come over as well.

The next morning was fortunately bright and sunny. The farm was a haven of peace. Well set back from the road and on a rise, we had a beautiful view in all directions. Hills to the east, mountains in the far distance to the north and the brooding edifice of Stirling Castle, erstwhile guardian of all routes north, perched on its rock – its role in Scottish history assured forever.

Oliver and I dug out the barbecue and trundled it over to the flat patch of ground at the side of the pond. The ducks didn’t seem to mind. I presume they knew that they weren’t going to be the object of our cooking.

Oliver soon had everything organised and the charcoal would be hot enough in half an hour. We had time to take a break and share a glass while Heather was treating the steaks with some secret recipe she had that would result in something wonderfully succulent and delicious. I had several times tried to persuade her to tell me what she did to them but, so far, she had refused to share her secret.

We had just sat down with our glasses when Heather came out of the kitchen to check that Oliver and I were doing something useful. We thought we were but she didn’t and we were immediately ordered to get the table set, find enough chairs, check the heat, set up a table over there and go in and cut the bread. We looked forlornly at our glasses of wine, which remained untouched, and got up to follow instructions.

Pierre arrived a few minutes later and after greeting Heather with Gallic flourish came out to join us. I was still walking rather gingerly on my injured feet. He watched me for a moment and asked what had happened.

“Tell you later,” I said, “When the others arrive.” In the middle of this hive of activity we heard two more cars drive up to the front of the house and Mike, Sophie, Mac and Doug came round the side to join us.

I sat down again and at last managed to have a drink. I looked across at Mike and grinned. “I’ll leave you to do the introductions.”

Sophie, Mac and Doug were introduced to Oliver who welcomed them all.

“Where’s Heather?” asked Mike. “In the kitchen.” He put his arm round Sophie. “Coming?” he asked. “Are you guys scared of your sister, or something?” she asked with a smile.

We both nodded furiously. “Definitely.” Oliver looked on with amusement.

“Come on, Mike,” said Sophie and dragged him off to the kitchen door. That left five of us round the table, glasses in hand, to watch over the barbecue.

Five pairs of raised eyebrows greeted Mike when he came back out, on his own, a few minutes later. He came over and grabbed a spare seat. “She’s put her to work. Great. Now where’s my drink?”

The steaks were wonderful. The salad that Sophie had prepared was pure south of France. Just eating it one was transported to the sunshine of Provence. The wine was a delight. Light conversation flowed round the table. Mac and Doug were made to feel at home and somehow, without imposing his presence at all, Oliver was the perfect host. We concentrated on enjoying the food, the company, the sunshine and the setting, while the ducks paddled around making the odd comment in that strange language of theirs.

But at some time we had to get down to some serious discussion. After all, for all we knew, Dewar might still be intent on trying to eliminate me.

The last time I had seen Pierre or spoken to Mike had been Monday and it was now Friday and they still didn’t know of my hell in the mountains.

Coffee was organised and we got down to business. I started off by telling everybody of the arrangements Pierre and I had undertaken to distribute Purdy’s largesse to the investors who had been shortchanged. I then mentioned my, perhaps significant, discovery of Mr David Dewar on the investor’s list.

Doug immediately offered to follow that one up to see if he really was Bill Dewar’s father.

I then explained how I had been attacked in the garden and dumped somewhere up in the mountains.

“I’ve absolutely no recollection of how I got there. All I can remember is being in the garden, weeding the rose beds. I was attacked from behind and the next thing I knew was that I was lying in the heather in the middle of nowhere.”

Oliver and Heather had already heard the story but all the others were totally shocked. Questions came flying at me from all directions.

But . . .? How . . .? When . . .? Who . . .? I signalled to all to quieten down. “I’m back and safe and sound. No real harm’s been done except my feet and hands still need a few days to recover.”

I recounted how I’d got down to the road, been picked up and taken to Maggie’s hotel. No other details were necessary. Heather had come up yesterday and brought me back here “And, as you can see, I’m hale and hearty.”

“What we now have to do is decide what we should do about Bill bloody Dewar.”

Everybody started to speak at once. Heather and Sophie were for calling in the police. Mike was for charging over and giving the bugger a going over. Mac and Doug didn’t venture an opinion. They were willing to do whatever we wanted.

Pierre was thoughtful and didn’t yet express himself. “It isn’t easy,” I said. “Look at what we know and what we can use. This whole thing started off with our suspicion of a fraud at AIM and my stirring things up at the conference. Purdy organised a burglary at my house presumably because he was suspicious of my interest in his company and the fact that he had seen me chatting to Alice. He was scared.

“Then we managed, thanks to Sophie, to obtain proof of his scheme and we initiated the next step – getting these dozen or so people to send emails to AIM.

“Meanwhile Mac and Doug had found out about Purdy’s mistress and that he was buddies with Dewar. Dewar has an expensive house in Spain that we can’t imagine where he got the funds from to buy. Also it’s registered in his wife’s name. The only reason for that must be that he doesn’t want it known that it’s his.”

I paused. Everybody agreed. “Everything points to Dewar blackmailing Purdy. Either he knows he’s got a mistress or he knows of the fraud through his father, if that’s who David Dewar is.”

I was starting to feel that I was back up in the mountains blundering about in the mist.

“Then, my car was bombed. We now know it was Purdy because he told us – but we suspected it anyway. It couldn’t have been anyone else. So we grabbed Purdy and put him through his trial. I tend to believe what Purdy told us because he showed, when he was with us, that he’s a pretty weak character.”

Doug broke in. “I’ve been watching him and I agree with you. You can tell he’s slimy and he’s a crook – we know that – but I don’t think he’s got the guts to go for murder.”

“So we believe his story about being ordered to get rid of me?”

Several heads nodded. Pierre was still looking thoughtful.

“When Mike released Purdy he didn’t go straight home as you might expect but ran straight to Dewar. Is that right, Mac?”

“Yes.” “What kind of a conversation did it look like?” “Well I couldn’t hear what they were saying. It’s a bit difficult to describe. What was sure was that Dewar arrived in a rush. So whatever was the matter he thought it was urgent. Purdy did most of the talking. It looked like he was explaining what had happened to him. Dewar didn’t say much. To begin with he looked as if didn’t believe what he was hearing. Then Purdy got more excited and seemed to be trying to convince him it was all true.”

“How did Dewar react?”

“To begin with he just sat there and listened. Then he started to look bloody angry. My God he’s got a hard face, that bastard. When Purdy was done he leant forward towards him and looked like he was giving him instructions. Like he was ordering him to do something. Purdy didn’t like it one bit and shook his head. Dewar looked like he was insisting and Purdy kept shaking his head. Then he spat a few words at him and got up and stormed out.”

We all tried to imagine the scene. I could imagine Purdy but, because I had never actually seen Dewar, I built a picture of him in my head. Big, bulky, stony-faced – a hard man.

“Fine,” I said. “The next thing that happens is I get kidnapped in my garden, drugged and dropped in the mountains, presumably with the intention that I don’t get back. It would look like an accident. Another stupid walker who didn’t take the elementary precautions when he went up into the hills.”

“The whole thing is unbelievable,” said Heather. “Bob, you’ve got to go to the police.”

“And what does he tell them?” asked Mike. “We can’t explain the uncovering of the AIM fraud. That puts Sophie in trouble and I’m not having that.”

Sophie smiled at him and put her hand on his thigh. “And we have no proof that Dewar kidnapped Bob. They wouldn’t believe us. He’s an MP and, even if they did believe us, I don’t know how they could go about getting proof.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Then Pierre voiced his thoughts. “I don’t think we can do anything. We’ve achieved what we set out to do. We’ve stopped Purdy’s little game. It’s finished. He’s resigned. If that means that Dewar no longer has a source of extra cash, then that’s his problem. It strikes me that he reacted instinctively and in anger. When he stops and thinks he’ll realize that there’s no way that Bob could make any connection between him and Purdy. Think about it from his side. I think it was a gut reaction. He just lashed out at the guy who was the cause of him losing a lucrative source of funds. He’ll drop it. He’ll leave Bob alone because the risk of committing coldblooded murder would be too great.”

“Oliver, what do you think?” I asked. “From what I’ve heard so far I think I agree with Pierre. It’s true that you can’t go to the police. Why not just lie low for a while. Dewar doesn’t know you’ve survived. You could surface in a week or so and when you do we could ask Mac to run guard. Meanwhile Doug and Mike can keep tabs on him. I agree with Pierre. I don’t think there will be any more danger.”

“Everybody else?” No one disagreed. I was in favour as well and it was my life that had been in jeopardy.

“Right,” said Mike. “If that’s decided I’m going for an after lunch walk. Coming Sophie?”

He held out his hand to her to help her up from the chair and they went off up the track to the hills behind. We watched them go and exchanged smiles. I bent a question mark at Heather who answered “I think she’s lovely. Just what he needs. It’s about time he found someone he could stick with.”

“Pierre, you know Sophie better than any of us. What do you think?”

“The same as I have always thought,” he replied. “If I’m too old for her then I want to like whoever does get her. My half brother will do fine.”

Mike and Sophie were back in half an hour. We tidied up and relaxed in the sun for a while. Mac and Doug left and we promised we would let them know when I decided to resurface.

Then Heather got up and announced that she had to go down to check on the horses.

“Mike, Sophie, do you want to come?” I knew that Mike was scared of the beasts but seeing that Sophie was definitely keen he acquiesced and they left Pierre, Oliver and me to finish off the wine.

We watched them go over to the paddock, Heather and Sophie in close conversation and Mike looking on solicitously. There seemed to be some kind of discussion between the girls. They were too far away for us to see exactly what was going on. Heather disappeared into the stables and came out with a saddle and bridle which she proceeded to put on one of the horses. As soon as that was completed Oliver and I were astonished to see Sophie leap up into the saddle and canter off round the field, looking every inch the accomplished rider.

She wheeled round at the far end of the field and started to gallop back towards one of the practice jumps that had been set up. Oliver and I looked at each other. He knows more about horses than I do and his comment to me was “Wow, that girl can ride!”.

As she galloped up to the jump she pulled on the reins to check his speed so that he would be well placed to take off. The horse responded and sailed over the jump. Sophie rose in the saddle as they went over and leant over its neck to keep the balance right and, as the horse gathered itself on landing, she was back down with a triumphant smile splitting her face. She cantered over to Heather, jumped off and handed the reins over. Mike had been watching with obvious concern on his face.

When they came back Heather and Sophie were deep in horse talk and Mike was following despondently behind.

“Bloody hell,” he said. “She never told me she could do that.”

Heather offered to put up Pierre, Mike and Sophie for the night and the offer was gratefully accepted. The evening was relaxed and harmonious – a family affair.

In the meantime I had ideas of my own on how I was going to spend my time over the next few days. My transfer had gone through. Tomorrow I was going down into Stirling to buy myself a bright red Mercedes SLR convertible and do a bit of motoring.

Maybe I would return these trainers.