Be Not Afraid Page 15

  “Can you describe her?”

  “She was, well . . . a little taller than me,” Anna said.

  “Age?”

  “I thought about forty.”

  “Colouring?”

  “Her hair was mostly tucked up beneath the bonnet. But I would say she was fair.”

  “Can you describe her features?”

  “Well, not really. They were just . . . ordinary.”

  “No distinguishing marks?”

  “She wore glasses.”

  Watt reflected that glasses could easily be discarded.

  “That’s not a lot to go on, but we’ll see what we can do.”

  “Wait a moment,” Anna said. “She was foreign.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Her voice. I didn’t notice it myself. But Harry was sure she had an accent.”

  “Harry being?”

  “Mr Druce. My fiancé.”

  Watt was taken aback by the news. “Would that be Mr Druce the lawyer?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s your fiancé?”

  A spicy bit of gossip to tell the wife.

  “We’re to be married, yes.”

  “How very nice for you. Do you mind if I have a word with him? If he actually spoke to this woman.”

  “He didn’t actually speak to her. He heard me speaking to her.”

  “But he saw her.”

  Anna frowned. “I’m not sure. But he’s coming here now. You can ask him yourself.”

  “Ah,” Watt said. “Then I’ll wait for him. May I use your phone?”

  “Of course. Can one of your people move Papa’s car? It’s blocking the road.”

  “I can see that, miss. But I don’t want to move it right now. I’m going to telephone our forensic department and have them come down to photograph the vehicle and dust it for fingerprints. Don’t worry. We’re in charge now. Everything will be sorted out.”

  “We should bathe and get changed,” Martina said. “I think I’m soaked right through to my undies.”

  Chief Inspector Watt gave a discreet cough.

  *

  Anna left the bloodstained dress and vest and knickers lying on the floor. She supposed the blood could be washed out but she still intended to burn them; she would never be able to wear them again.

  In the privacy of the bathroom she let herself go and began to cry all over again. Papa would be on the operating table now, while Cheam searched for the bullets and determined just how badly he was hurt. How she wanted the phone to ring, to reassure her. But at the same time she didn’t want it to ring, just in case it was bad news. It couldn’t ring, in any event, because Chief Inspector Watt was monopolising it, giving instructions here and there.

  Johnnie and Alicia, she thought. They would have to be told; they would have to be brought home from school. But she didn’t want to tell them what had happened until she knew what had happened. To tell them that Papa had been shot but not killed and have them come home to find he had died would be unbearable. But equally, to tell them he was dead and have them then discover he had survived would be hardly less traumatic.

  Head of the family. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again, to make herself believe it. If Papa died. She had no idea of their financial position, but Harry would know.

  Martina opened the door. She had also undressed but was wearing a dressing gown. “You’ve been in there long enough,” she said.

  Anna climbed out of the bath and towelled vigorously; she had washed her hair as well. “I was daydreaming. Do I need to dress?”

  Martina smiled at her. “You should. But you can wear a dressing gown and slippers. Give them a thrill. Harry is here.”

  “Harry!” She hadn’t heard the car. But of course, he would have had to leave it up the hill and walk down. She dashed into her bedroom, pulled on a dressing gown, thrust her feet into slippers, ignored her still wet hair and ran down the stairs. “Harry!”

  Her appearance in extreme déshabillé, white legs emerging from the dressing gown, had them all startled. Harry had been talking with Watt. He was the first to recover and got up to put his arms around her, while Watt looked at the ceiling and the two constables stared out of the window.

  “Oh, my darling,” Druce said, holding her close. “We thought this business was over.”

  “He knew it wasn’t.”

  “I know. He was in the office this morning, making a new will. My God!”

  Anna raised her head. “What?”

  “If he . . . your father . . .”

  “You mean if he dies.”

  “Well, without signing the will, then the original one will stand. It virtually names Howard Horsfall as executor.”

  “But you can fight that, Harry. We can.”

  “You bet. But hopefully the colonel won’t die.”

  “Ahem,” Watt remarked.

  Druce’s hand was sliding up and down Anna’s back as he caressed her, and with every upward movement the dressing gown got higher; it was already up to her knees.

  “Oh, Chief Inspector,” Anna said, disengaging herself. “I am sorry. We’re engaged.”

  “So you mentioned, miss. I wonder if you would sit down and give a statement to the constable over there.”

  “Of course.” Anna sat on the settee and patted the space beside her for the embarrassed constable.

  “I assume Mrs Savos is coming down?” Watt asked.

  “I am here.” Martina, another conversation stopper in dressing gown with wet hair, appeared in the doorway.

  *

  It took over an hour for the police to take statements and obtain all the information they needed. By then the car had been examined, photographed and dusted, and one of the policemen had driven it down into the yard.

  “It’ll need a proper going-over,” Watt remarked.

  “I’ll see to it,” Druce volunteered.

  “Yes. Well, we’ll put out a bulletin on this mysterious woman and see what we can find. If we do pick her up, we’ll need you for an identification parade, Miss Anna.”

  Anna nodded. “Chief Inspector, do you think I should phone the hospital?”

  “I know it’s a terrible time for you, miss, but I’d recommend that you don’t. I imagine the colonel is still on the table, or just off it. I’m sure Dr Cheam will telephone the moment he has some news. And we’ll certainly be in touch, hopefully sooner than later.” He nodded to Druce and got into the waiting car.

  Martina emerged from the kitchen. “Lunch is quite spoiled, but I can do something with eggs. You’ll stay, Harry?”

  “I’d like to.”

  “I want you to,” Anna said. “But I couldn’t eat a thing.”

  “I think you should,” Martina said.

  “Perhaps later.”

  “Well, I’ll get something for Harry and me, anyway.”

  “What you need is a drink,” Harry decided. He mixed three whisky and sodas.

  Anna drank, and shuddered.

  “Haven’t you tried Scotch before?”

  She shook her head. “Papa didn’t want me to. Oh, Harry . . .”

  He sat beside her and held her hand. “Think of it as medicine. We have a lot of decisions to make.”

  She nodded. “Like avenging Papa.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I must. And Johnnie and Alicia will feel like that too.”

  “Listen, you’re not Helen Karlovy.”

  “I’m Serbian. Just like her.”

  “You’re not. You’re only half, and the half is Bosnian, not Serbian.”

  “We have the same traditions.”

  “What you need to remember is that your other half is English, and English young ladies do not go around carrying out acts of vengeance. Even if you knew who to go after.”

  “But I do know who to go after. A man named Himmler, a German. He’s behind all this.”

  “You mean you know this man?”

  “I don’t, personally. But Papa
knows of him.”

  “Have you told Chief Inspector Watt?”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Because he’s obviously a chief suspect. Watt can at least have him investigated.”

  “Watt can’t do anything about it. Himmler doesn’t live in England. He lives in Germany.”

  Druce stared at her with his mouth open. “And you mean to go to Germany?”

  “I know Germany well. I speak the language fluently.”

  Druce turned his head to look at Martina, standing in the doorway.

  “Lunch is ready,” she announced.

  “Martina,” Druce said, “Anna is talking about going to Germany to look for a man called Himmler. She thinks he is responsible for this.”

  “That is what Berkeley thinks, yes,” Martina said.

  “Well, do please tell her that anything like that would be absolute madness.”

  “I think it is what we must do,” Martina said seriously. “I shall go with her.”

  Sitting down to lunch, Druce decided that his best course was to be as matter-of-fact as possible.

  “The first thing we need to do,” he said, “is get married.”

  “Don’t you think that should wait until after I return from Germany?”

  “No. It is your father’s wish. He told Mr Walton and I this morning that he wanted the marriage to take place as soon as possible. Anyway, you can’t possibly think of leaving England while the colonel is seriously ill.”

  Anna looked at Martina.

  “That is true,” Martina agreed.

  “Neither can I think of getting married,” Anna said.

  “Even if it was, I mean is, his wish?”

  Anna sighed. “We can do nothing, think of nothing, until we hear from Dr Cheam.”

  *

  Walton willingly gave Druce permission to remain at the farm for the rest of the day, and to spend the night, if he thought it necessary.

  “There is really no need to put yourself out,” Anna said. “That woman and her employer were after Papa, not me and Martina. She will not come back.”

  “Don’t you want me to stay?”

  “Of course I want you to stay. But I do not wish sex.”

  “I did not expect you to,” he said.

  He was aware that there had been a subtle change in their relationship. In the few hours since Berkeley had been shot, Anna had moved away from him and towards Martina. He knew that she and Martina had always been close, but now they had become melded in their desire for revenge. He did not think they had actually discussed the matter – he had been with them all day – but it was a meeting of minds from which he was excluded. Because of their shared background or because he had rejected the idea of vendetta? Or was it because they doubted he was man enough to help them? That thought hurt. They needed another Berkeley, and he was not that. If he had fired a rifle during the war, it had only been during the last few months, and he had no idea if he had ever hit anyone; since returning to civilian life he had not touched a firearm, much less owned one. On the other hand, he did not remember being afraid when under fire; he had been nineteen and quite sure he would not be hit.

  Now he was faced with what he supposed was the biggest decision of his life. Go along with them in a madcap adventure which could result in all of their deaths and which went entirely against his personality, his upbringing and his profession? Or refuse, try to stop them and end his relationship with Anna. Because he knew that would happen. Part of her attraction was her total commitment to whatever she was doing, or whatever she regarded as important. And the most important thing in her life was her father.

  The afternoon was very tense, and to Druce, increasingly alarming, as Martina and Anna went into the back yard with their revolvers and engaged in target practice. When he was invited to join in, his aim was so very poor that he reckoned he had gone even further down in their estimation.

  It was a relief when, just after dinner, Dr Cheam’s car came bumping into the yard.

  Anna ran down the front steps to greet him.

  Cheam embraced her. “Your father is going to live.”

  “Oh, Doctor.”

  “Really and truly?” Martina joined them.

  “Really and truly,” Cheam said. “We managed to get both bullets out, and he has received a transfusion. There will be another one tonight.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Martina said. “Harry! Harry! Did you hear that?”

  “That is the most splendid news, Doctor,” Druce said.

  “He is certainly lucky to be alive,” Cheam agreed. “However . . . may we go inside?”

  Anna escorted him into the house, still holding his arm. “However what?”

  “Shall we all sit down?”

  Anna and Martina sat to either side of him on the settee. Druce stood in front of them.

  “What is the matter?” Martina said. “Isn’t he going to be all right?”

  “The colonel is going to live and, with fortune, will be able to enjoy most aspects of life,” Cheam said carefully. “But there is something else, yes. That is why I thought it best to come out and see you in person rather than telephone. One of the bullets shattered his left leg. The breaking of the bones was accentuated by his effort to avoid the second shot. We have set the bones, but I’m afraid the damage is very severe and I cannot promise that he will ever be able to walk without the aid of a stick.”

  “But he’s alive,” Anna said, determined to be optimistic.

  “That is, should he ever be able to walk again,” Cheam said.

  “What do you mean?” Martina asked, her voice a snap of concern.

  Cheam sighed. “The second bullet entered just above his right thigh. It struck his wallet and went through it – it was fired at very close range.”

  “I saw that,” Martina said. “Didn’t the wallet save him from more serious injury?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Had it gone straight on, it might well have penetrated the stomach. That would have been very serious, but we should have been able to cope. Sadly, it was diverted by the wallet and moved to the left, still travelling at considerable speed. It therefore lodged at the base of the spine.”

  “What does that mean?” Martina asked.

  “It damaged the nerves. We have, as I say, taken it out. But the damage has been done. Your father is paralysed from the waist down.”

  The Avenger

  “Oh, my God!” Anna clasped both hands to her neck and looked at Martina.

  Who licked her lips. “You mean . . .”

  “What I have said,” Cheam said. “Colonel Townsend is paralysed from the waist down.”

  “He has no functions at all?”

  “At the moment, no, apart from involuntary movements of the bowels. He may recover some usage of his extremities in the course of time, but for the moment he will need the care of a baby.” He looked from one woman to the other. “I know he is fortunate in having two ladies such as yourselves to look after him.”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “We will look after him. When will he come home?”

  “I’m afraid not for some time.”

  “But we can go to the hospital to see him?”

  “Of course. However, he is not yet aware of his condition. The moment I consider that he is psychologically strong enough to know, I shall tell him. You should therefore be guardedly optimistic in what you say.”

  “I understand,” Anna said.

  Martina was staring into space.

  “Is he capable of doing any business?” Druce asked. “I have a most important document for him to read and sign. I’m sorry, Anna, but it is most necessary he sign the will.”

  “Of course. How soon can we see him, Doctor?”

  “Tomorrow. You will find him weak, but there is nothing the matter with his brain, save a certain amount of depression. You may cheer him up. Now, I must be off. I’m sorry the news is so bad. On the other hand, it could have been so much worse.”

  “Doctor,” Martina said,
appearing to wake up. “When you say he will gradually recover his faculties, can you put any sort of timescale on that?”

  “I’m sorry Mrs Savos, but the word I used was may, not will. A great deal will depend on his strength, both mental and physical. As for a timescale, that is quite impossible at this moment.”

  “Will there be a big splash about this?” Anna asked.

  “I’m afraid there will be, Anna. It is a police matter, and I suppose it has to be linked to that Karlovy business. Well, if there is anything I can do to help, any tranquillisers . . .”

  “We’ll manage,” Anna said.

  “Very good.” Cheam looked at Martina. He had a strong suspicion that she had a drug habit. “Don’t forget, I’m at the end of a telephone if you need me. Druce.”

  Druce accompanied him to the front door.

  “Do you think they can cope?” Cheam asked.

  “Oh, they can cope. But . . . you realise that the family has a stormy past.”

  “I know all about their stormy past. Twenty-one years ago I extracted a bullet from Berkeley Townsend’s ribs, fired by the man Karlovy. So you think the family reaction may be . . . unusual?”

  “That is putting it mildly.”

  “May I ask what your interest is in this? As the family lawyer, or a family friend?”

  “Anna and I are engaged to be married.”

  “Then I shall congratulate you. When is this wedding to take place?”

  “It was to have been as soon as possible.”

  “Berkeley’s idea?”

  “Yes, it was, actually.”

  “I should think he would be even more anxious to have it happen now. Don’t delay. Then you should be able to assume a position as head of the family, subject to Berkeley’s agreement, of course, and thus keep Anna, and her siblings, under control.”

  “Yes,” Druce said, somewhat hesitantly.

  “I know,” Cheam said. “That is quite a responsibility to take on at your age. But it does have to be done. Now tell me about this Savos woman. I only met her for the first time the night her husband died. She didn’t seem too overcome. I’m surprised to find her still here.”

  “She is, or was, Berkeley’s mistress.”

  Cheam blew through his teeth. “I’m afraid that is now definitely was.”