Bertie and the Hairdresser Who Ruled the World (28 page)

‘Certainly, Mister –?'

‘Johnstone. Humphrey Johnstone.'

Jenny was no psychic, but even she could see the man wasn't a Humphrey. He looked more like a Logan. Or a Dirk, maybe. Perhaps a Ryan. There was the air of a military man about him. He was about average height, but very compact. There was not an ounce of fat on his muscular frame. Jenny guessed he worked out regularly. No one she'd ever met looked so fit. Bet he didn't tell the boys down the gym his name was Humphrey.

Miller smiled winningly, pulling off his woollen beanie to reveal a shaven head. She was rather attractive, despite the wellies. Keep your mind on the job, man. He followed her through the old house, eyes missing nothing, even her sexy little rump. They went down some stone stairs and into the baptistry. Miller enthused appropriately. He was a good actor.

‘Well, isn't this just delightful. What a little gem of a place. May I take some photos?' The smartphone came out. ‘Oh, no signal,' he frowned.

‘No. Mobiles don't work down here,' commented Jenny. ‘It's the perfect dungeon when you think about it. Just the place to lock someone up, but your camera should still work.' Miller snapped his way around the structure making all manner of complimentary remarks – Jenny thought he seemed unusually excited about the stout oak door and its heavy bolt – then they made their way back up to the entrance hall. He thanked her profusely and turned to go, when his attention was caught by some of the paintings hanging on the walls. The phone reappeared and he took a snap of every canvas, including the striking portrait of Helen of Troy by Sir Frederick Sandys hanging over the ornate fireplace. He stared at it long and hard, thanked Jenny again and departed. His mobile stayed out as he strode down the gravelled drive.

‘Yes, Mr Netheridge, I've just been given the tour. No, I can't see any problem. Please inform the others we can take the place any time you like. There's even the perfect spot to hold the women. Tomorrow morning suits me as well. I'll get that implemented immediately. However, I'll need all of my team here to ensure a clean strike. Yes, even the guard on the bird. Well, I suppose I could bring the cage with me, but I won't risk exposing our primary asset until we've secured the location. Listen, why don't you come down and help out? You're always grumbling you want a bit more action. Here's your chance. You mind the bird while we move in, then you can bring it here and watch me get the results you want so badly. You'll have a great time. It'll be an education. Good, see you tomorrow, then.'

He finished the call, then immediately made another. ‘Your friend has given the go-ahead. The operation will start tomorrow morning. He's taken the bait. Eager? Yes, I'd say so. A brilliant idea of yours, implicating him at this advanced stage.' Miller was a man with many irons in numerous fires. He liked to keep his income streams varied. A complex character. Multiple layers. Onion Man. In other words, a disloyal, snide, repellent, untrustworthy, two-faced low-life. ‘Sir, there's also a few paintings here I know you'll be happy to add to your collection. Sending the pictures now. Several Pre-Raphaelites, a Reynolds and a Gainsborough.' He listened, trudging stolidly down the gravelled drive while his contact pored over the photos. ‘I know, who would have believed it. Definitely a Sandys. My usual commission? Thank you very much.' Miller smiled broadly. He knew many thousands of pounds were now coming his way. ‘There's no security here at all so it's quite safe to come down yourself. I know you like to make a collection personally whenever you can. I'll text to tell you exactly when you'll have private access. It'll be a narrow window of opportunity, but easily enough to get the job done. All you'll need is a small stepladder. No, the women won't give us any trouble and I have the perfect prison. I'll use the usual team. We can melt away once you've made the collection, leaving your friend exposed. Yes, I'll make sure I call the police. No doubt we can ensure the poisoning comes to light as well. Oh, I don't know, maybe fifteen years. Bars, buggery and bananas. A fitting end, don't you think,' he chuckled grimly. ‘One last question – how much of a clean-up afterwards? Sure, we can do that, but it seems a shame to torch such a lovely house. Yes, I realise you need to eliminate all traces of a collection. No, I'm not going soft. I can assure you of my complete loyalty, but there's no –'

Miller glared at his phone. He didn't like being cut off so imperiously. His boss knew that as well. ‘Distrusting bastard!' he snarled.

‘You!' exclaimed Jenny.

‘Yes, me,' replied Miller smugly.

‘Humphrey Johnstone.'

‘The very same.'

‘I'll bet that's not your real name.'

‘No takers.'

‘This man came here yesterday evening to see the baptistery,' explained Jenny to Doreen. ‘He took lots of photos.'

‘Reconnaissance,' said Sandra.

‘Precisely.'

‘And now burglary?'

‘Amongst other things.' Celeste went cold at Miller's tone. The implications were disturbing. Wilf had been right. Maybe it had been a bad move to involve Doreen, despite her insistence. They were following a risky strategy. Still, at least they'd had a little time to prepare. If all went to plan, these men were in for a hell of a shock.

Miller stood in front of his gang, a hand-picked group of four mercenaries, all in black. Three were flinty-eyed hard men, well-muscled, silent and menacing, the fourth a larger gentleman of generous girth with an acne-scarred face and the empty eyes of an assassin. They'd swarmed in without warning during breakfast and moved swiftly through the Hall, sweeping the women into the kitchen.

Martha stepped forward, placing herself in front of Doreen. ‘You leave them alone, or else.'

‘Or else what, old woman? You'll give me a particularly harsh blue rinse?' sniggered Miller.

‘You're a very rude man,' retorted Martha indignantly.

‘I am,' he agreed genially. ‘I'm delighted to say I have a deeply unpleasant character. In fact, I'm going to show you just how unpleasant I can be.' He flicked a hand and the corpulent gentleman stepped forward and prodded Martha with a stun gun. There was a
phutz
and Martha collapsed with a scream, twitching convulsively. Cutie cried out, lunging forward, but was held back by Doreen. Her face was set like stone, her eyes glittered pure hatred. ‘That was unnecessary,' she ground out, her voice low and dripping with venom.

‘True, but as I said, I'm a deeply unpleasant person. As a man unconstrained by conscience, I felt you needed a demonstration. Besides, I do like to see old biddies twitching at my feet.'

Celeste bent to Martha, cradling her head. She jerked convulsively, her cheek ticking. ‘I'm so sorry,' she whispered, ‘but I've wet myself.'

‘That's OK, Martha. I'll make them suffer for this.'

‘Don't count on it, Tinkerbell,' said Miller. ‘Ladies, mobile phones on the table, please. Thank you. Now, put these on everyone, then yourself. Try not to get too excited.' He tossed a chain onto the floor, half a dozen pairs of handcuffs padlocked through its links. ‘Chop, chop, or Granny gets another shock.'

Celeste gave Miller a long, hard and definitely unfriendly look. This was the man who'd knocked out Wilf and held Milly captive at the barn. From James's description, she realised he was also the man who'd bruised her husband's joy compartment. When the reckoning came, he would suffer. She bent to Martha. ‘Have faith,' she whispered, kissing her forehead. ‘Your hair will save us.' Martha's brow furrowed as the cuffs clicked around her wrists. Cutie followed, then Jenny, Sandra and Doreen. Lastly, Celeste snapped the bracelets around her own wrists. All six were now cuffed together. They helped Martha to her feet and all stood in a little group.

Miller smiled nastily. ‘Now then, along to the baptistery. With its nice strong door.'

Jenny led the way down to the Oracle, chain clinking. They all ducked their heads to get under the low lintel. The chamber was dark and musty, its rough stone roof soot-stained and black. Celeste peered around in the gloom, the only illumination a pale shaft of light filtering down the chimney high in the roof. ‘Charming,' she murmured.

‘Don't get comfy, we'll be coming for you very soon,' said Miller, pointing at her. ‘Then you'll see the real reason we're here.' The heavy door slammed and the bolt was thrown. They heard melodramatically villainous Sir Jasper-style laughter through the thick oak, then receding footsteps.

Doreen turned to Jenny and patted her arm. ‘Well done, Jen. You can add acting to your many talents.'

‘Thank you, Gaia. I was still scared, even though I knew they were coming.'

‘So was I, but it was essential to lure them here. We plan to catch the generals through their soldiers.'

‘What did you mean, my hair will save us?' asked Martha.

‘Ah, yes,' said Celeste. ‘Your bun. So stylish, so useful, so obsessively controlled. May I borrow a hair grip?'

Martha obliged. Celeste bent and twisted it into a particular shape before inserting the end into the lock on Doreen's handcuff. A dextrous wiggle produced a click and the cuff fell open. Celeste received an extremely old-fashioned look and shrugged. ‘An essential life skill. Well, it is for a woman with my particular tastes.' They were all free inside a minute. Celeste separated each pair of handcuffs from the chain. ‘Keep your own cuffs,' she said. ‘You may need them.' The heavy chain went into her pocket.

Doreen gave Martha a comforting hug. ‘That was an Oscar-winning performance.'

‘I wasn't acting. I really did pee myself.'

‘Oh. Sorry, I thought you were joking. Perhaps you should work on your pelvic floor exercises,' she suggested. ‘Cutie, what have you got?'

‘Just here, Gaia.' Cutie stood facing the far wall of the Oracle. The stonework was smooth, the blocks well laid. ‘See – the lime mortar is still a different colour, even after five hundred years.'

‘Of course, the original tunnel to the Temple.' said Celeste.

‘That's right. We needed to entice them into imprisoning us in a place they thought was secure but we knew had a way out. Thanks to Jenny, they took the bait.'

‘I'm still uneasy about involving you all.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Celeste. We've drawn together every element of this conspiracy neatly and without suspicion. They are here now specifically because of you, and you are here because of Bertie's suggestion. That was his part. I've told you before, Maggie knows what she's talking about. She told me to gather you both in and I've done so. The confrontation was always meant to be here, at Temple Hall. Only now will it be possible to defeat them and prevent their corruption from spreading.'

‘So you're still allowing yourself to be led by a weirdy-beardy punk priestess.' Some of Celeste's scepticism resurfaced. ‘Endangering us all and subjecting Martha to a nasty attack.'

‘Running the world's not always easy, Celeste,' replied Doreen firmly. ‘Subtle visions require subtle planning. You'll soon get the hang of it. Don't forget – Helen of Troy's blood runs in your veins so you've got a head start.' She turned back to Cutie. ‘We need to loosen this stone and the rest will come out easily. Pass that poker, Jen.'

Normally used to stir the oracular flames, the steel poker admirably doubled up as a scraper. The soft lime mortar crumbled easily and the block was loose within minutes. A good push and it fell through, revealing a narrow tunnel beyond. The remaining wall was soon dismantled. They filed along the passageway led by Doreen's pencil torch, fingers trailing against the smooth masonry. Again using the poker, Cutie forced a breach in the matching wall at the far end and they emerged on to the hexagonal landing in the Temple passageway. Creeping back up the stairs, they carefully opened the secret panel and stepped into the library beside the great stone fireplace.

All was quiet, but distant voices drifted out of the kitchen. Male voices. Laughing, complacent, arrogant. Such a thing had not been heard in the Hall for many centuries.

‘What's next?' asked Jenny.

‘Much as I'd like to, we can't sneak away. We must protect the Temple at all costs, even if it means putting ourselves in danger. That's what we signed up for.' Doreen was adamant. Her tone brooked no argument. ‘We can't leave them to roam at will through the Hall, but we don't have much time. They'll be coming for Celeste at any moment.'

‘We should use that tippy-trappy thing in front of the library door,' said Cutie. ‘That's what it was designed for.'

‘You mean the oubliette.'

‘Technically, it's not an oubliette. It's a tippy-trappy thing,' she insisted.

‘Is it still working?' asked Sandra.

‘Should be. We greased the mechanism not a few months ago.'

‘The timing's got to be spot on. We need all five of them together at the right time. Who's going to be the lure?'

‘I'm Gaia. The responsibility is mine.'

‘No,' said Sandra firmly. ‘I'll do it. You and Celeste are far too important, Martha's got soggy knickers, Jenny can't run for toffee in those wellies and I'll need Cutie to operate the trap.' Doreen looked doubtful, but eventually nodded.

‘We also have to consider the possibility that they might not all follow Sandra,' added Celeste. ‘These are professionals. If they see she's out, they will almost certainly split up to search for the rest of us. That's what I'd do. Did Maggie say if there was going to be an actual physical fight?'

‘Not specifically, but it looks like we're heading in that direction.'

‘In which case things could get close up and personal. We already know they're armed – I saw knives tucked into belts and there's that stunner to contend with – so we'll have to defend ourselves. I know we've had very little time to make preparations, but do you have any actual weapons? An old place like this surely has a few swords hanging on the wall. Pikes, perhaps? The odd crossbow – anything at all?'