Chapter 74 – Part 3
Christian and Mr. Martin Brown entered the Grandchester mansion, following the lead of the head butler of the family.
He remembered the first time he had been there. Looking forward about meeting the Duke of Grandchester, having received his praise, feeling excited about the future. He side glanced the man next to him. He looked nothing of how he looked inside the taxi. Instead he seemed relaxed, with an air of outmost professionalism. Christian let out a breath of relief. At least he wouldn't have to worry about Mr. Brown causing any suspicions.
They stopped at the Duke's study. The butler opened the room and the three men walked in it. It was as Christian had imagined it. Masculine and rich, with the Duke's desk and the furniture in dark exotic wood and sharp lines. Top to bottom bookcases covering the walls with expensive books on their shelves. Thick Persian rugs covered the wood parquet floor.
The butler reached the part of the bookcase that was on the wall exactly opposite to the Duke's desk. He dry coughed and asked both men to look the other side, before he worked on the secret mechanism. Both Christian and Mr. Brown obeyed and turned their backs while Mr. O'Brian pushed back and pulled towards himself the part of the bookcase that served as a panel behind which a door was hiding. He unlocked it. A small square hallway appeared when he opened that door.
Moving as quiet as a mouse, Christian turned, seeing exactly what the butler was doing. Of course, he never stopped being intrigued by the various ways the rich chose to hide their valuable. In the cause of the Duke of Grandchester, it seemed that he kept his in a kind of a vault, behind the bookcase in his study. Christian couldn't help himself. He made a few steps towards the open door, just to have a better view. While the man was opening a safe that was build inside the wall of that small room, Christian noticed stairs at the back of it, going downwards.
Mr. O'Brian pulled out several velvet cases, stacked one on top of each other. With the Grandchester valuables in his arms he turned. His eyes met with Christian's who immediately turned away.
"I'm so sorry Mr. O'Brian!" He excused himself, sounding as innocent as a child. "My late father
-rest his soul-
He was a banker and I am naturally fascinated by private vaults!" He added.
The butler let the cases on the long table which stood between the men and the bookcase, used by the Duke for his private business meetings with his associates. He kept silent, while he shut the door and the bookcase back to how it was.
Then the two men turned.
"It is fine Mr. Blake. Despite you disobeying my order due to your natural inclination for things that remind you your late father, there is nothing I can do now. I will ask you however, to please respect my position in this house and do as I say while you are at the residence of the Duke of Grandchester."
"Of course! Absolutely! I apologise wholeheartedly sir! It won't happen again." Christian apologised with sincerity.
The butler could not do anything else. With obvious displeasure in his otherwise expressionless face, he reached the door of the study and pulled a cord next to the door. He then turned to Mr. Brown, who had kept quiet during Christian's indiscretion and the obvious reprimanding comment towards him from Mr. O'Brian.
"Mr. Brown, you can set up your instruments here, where I have placed the cases." He invited the man to come closer.
Mr. Brown thanked him. Walked towards the table and placed the bag with his instruments on it, before sitting down, in front of the stack of the velvet cases. He opened his bag. Took out a thick fabric case, kept rolled shut with a ribbon. He untied the ribbon and rolled it out. All kinds of delicate metal instruments were there, each inside a small pocket. They looked like dentist's instruments. Then he took out several magnifying eye glasses, used to check on diamonds and other precious stones.
Two servants walked in the room. The butler gave the instructions to stay in the room with Mr. Brown, while he carried his work.
He then turned to Christian, waiting to hear from him, exactly what he had in mind.
"Since Lady Grandchester is expected tomorrow, I'd like to have an idea of the various rooms in the residence, Mr. O'Brian." Christian said. "For drawing her portrait."
"I see." The butler said.
"Understandably, the Grandchester residence has a lot of rooms and naturally I don't ask to visit every one... so if you have the architect's drawings of the estate, to look at, just to single out the rooms that look more adequate in terms of the natural light." Christian proposed.
"Of course." The man replied. Given his role as the Head butler of the mansion, he knew all about the architect's drawings and where they were kept which was in the same room they were standing. There was a stack of long drawers at the bottom part of the bookcase which stood behind the Duke's desk. The butler opened one of them and pulled out a rolled long parchment.
While Mr. Brown had already started cleaning the precious stones on the various treasures he had revealed by taking them out of their boxes
- a selection of which -
Christian had glanced at in a indifferent way, Mr. O'Brian carried the estate drawings to the same table and rolled them out in front of him.
Christian looked at them with great attention. Τοοκ his time to map every detail in his mind. His eyes fell on the square which was meant to depict the Study room, the one they were occupying just now. He realised those stairs he had seen at the back of the vault, were also drawn on the map of the house. They seemed to lead to a passage
possibly it is underground...
It led somewhere towards-
He checked the four points of the horizon.
The passage stopped far from the main building, somewhere in the grounds of the estate, towards the west. Christian made a note to explore when he left.
He proceeded checking which rooms were facing east and west, north and south. Preferably he would like the drawing to take place during the "golden hour" in the late afternoon, early evening when the descending sun painted everything with golden hues, the colours were vibrant and the clarity of the air was diamond-sharp.
"I am sorry... I'm getting excited with the possibilities here, and I mumbling." He said to the butler who was standing next to him.
The man did not comment. He remained politely silent.
He took out a pad and scribbled down a list of rooms. He asked the butler to take him to those rooms to see them. While he kept a normal conversation with him, asking questions on the habits of Lady Grandchester, to gain an idea of how busy the lady of the house was, he recorded everything he was seeing around him. Every detail that could have been useful to him.
But mostly he was interested on the hidden stairs in the vault.
The Grandchester mansion included also a conservatory, an orangery as it used to be described then. It was a beautiful elongated space with tall from floor to ceiling arched windows, classical Grecian style statues and exotic plants, small but perfectly formed orange and lemon trees, which had blossomed and the smell inside the room was nothing less than intoxicating. Christian felt enchanted.
If he was to paint the portrait of Lady Grandchester, this is where he would have chosen to create that painting. The light in there during the early evening would have been magnificent, nothing less than bewitching.
"This is perfect." He said in a quiet voice, mostly speaking to himself, rather than making a statement.
The butler turned towards him. "Indeed, Mr. Blake, it is one of the favourite spaces for the Duke and the Duchess also."
They walked back inside the main building of the mansion.
"I think I saw what I needed to see." Christian said to the butler. "And I apologise for my indiscretion before." He added.
"No need Mr. Blake." The man replied.
"What time the Duke of Grandchester comes back from the House of Lords usually?" Christian replied. "So I can speak to him over the phone regarding the commencing of the portrait."
They reached the front door. "At about seven o'clock in the evening, Mr. Blake. He stays till late on Mondays, at the Parliament."
"I see! Lord Grandchester is a very hard working man." Christian commented.
"Indeed he is sir." The butler replied with a formal smile.
Christian thanked the man once again and left.
He walked out, as if he was leaving the estate. He hadn't a car so he proceeded on foot, down the main pathway which led to the main road. When he put some fair distance between himself and the mansion, he lifted his head and looked around. Made a turn and started walking towards the west, while being still inside the Grandchester estate grounds.
He kept walking, paying great attention to his surroundings. The environment around him started changing. The vegetation became thick and the natural growth was left almost untouched by a gardener's hand. It was nothing like the manicured gardens and lawns of the immediate area around the mansion. It felt almost like he had entered a forest with tall beech and ash trees, all covered with climbing ivy while large ferns covered most of the ground.
There was a rudimentary ground path which Christian followed. The area started to clear. He had reached the road. He raised his brows, wrinkling his forehead.
Where the hell that underground passage led?
He passed the road, reached the other side. He took a few more steps inwards, continuing to the same direction and then he stopped. He realised where he was.
The Highgate cemetery.
He started searching inside the cemetery. A thought started forming inside his head.
Would the Grandchesters have a private burial site there...
After a while, he reached an imposing private mausoleum. His heart beat accelerated, affected by his find.
Could this be the one?
He walked towards it, while he kept his gaze fixed at its entrance. Its old grandeur impressed him immensely. It confessed of a family with great power and status. He looked at the thick ornate tall columns that stood on both sides of the oval entrance. The door was open so he went in. There was a line of tombs inside the building. He peered inside the first one. The names on the white marble plaques confirmed his suspicions.
The Grandchester Mausoleum.
He was elated. He could bet his money the underground passage must had led there. He looked into the rest of the tombs, taking his time to examine details. The Grandchester family was going back at least one hundred years, the oldest tomb being there since the early 1800s.
He entered one of those tombs. He noticed the ground. Instead of square tiles, there was a big rectangular stone, fitted right in the middle of the tomb. He kneeled down. The crack on the ground around the stone was just about enough to squeeze his fingers inside. He tried moving the stone a little, see if it was movable. It didn't come too much as a surprise that it was. In fact it didn't take him much time to actually manage to lift and slide the stone towards him. Βelow it, it revealed a wooden trap door. He tried to open that one also. When he saw the stairs underneath it, there wasn't much else he was going to do, but take them down to the underground passage and see where it led him...
The moment, the cabin door closed behind the Chief Constable James Barrach, Terry turned to look at Candy.
She realised he must had been very angry. So angry that he stared at her for a good couple of minutes at least, a stare that shone and burned like the summer sun, but no words were coming out his mouth. Terence Grantchester was lost for words.
Yes, Candy had that ability with him. He was ready to admit it. She was able to drive him insane. Up the wall. To lose his mind completely.
He had risked life and limb
FOR HER
entering the way he did that little cottage, he faced down the dark barrels of a gun,
FOR HER
fought a man twice his size with his bare hands
FOR HER
He felt he was going to self combust. He pushed his hair back with fire on his fingertips. Walked back and forth, while his stare kept coming back at her.
"Terry..." She said to him.
He held himself in control, so much in control he strived to be; he had never exercised that kind of level of self restraint.
"I know you are angry."
"Oh! Candy! You don't know!"
He steadied the tremble in his voice. The vein on his neck bulged like a blue snake under his skin.
"You have no idea of the level of my anger right now." He said to her, the muscles on his jaw tensing.
"Can we discuss this calmly, Terry... please?" She asked him and pushed the bed covers back.
She stood up.
"Where are you going?" He asked her straight away.
"I am going to make us both a cup of hot tea and we are going to discuss, Terry, once in our life like well- adjusted adults and not like barbarians." She replied back with an air of determination, Terry hadn't experienced from Candy before.
He had got used to him exploding and her running away. It could have been their close proximity in that small, tight space of the boat cabin, it could have been the fact they had reached the edge of reason;
for both of them
In this "relationship" between them, there was no more space for her to run or him to explode.
So perhaps to talk calmly-
Whatever "calmly" meant...
"Sit down." He ordered her. "I'll make us the tea. You need to get your strength back." He added.
She did not protest. Left the kettle half full, and ready for the water to warm up. She turned back and sat down to the bed while she looked at him taking over the tea making.
"We said to help Christian, the night before last..." She took a breath and said calmly, having knitted the fingers of her hands together, left them resting on her lap.
"Yes, we did." He replied while on the task, "But it did not include you being handed over to MacDonald's thug by a kidnapper with half a brain."
"Well, that is a plus no?" She commented when he heard his objection.
"What is?" He asked her, as he waited for the water to boil.
"That my kidnapper has half a brain." She answered back.
He reached his cigarette package. "Please, spare me the humour, Candy. Not now." He lit a cigarette and opened the porthole window. He welcomed the fresh sea breeze inside the room. The cool air brushed against his unshaven face.
"What I mean is that, if he's that dim, it'll be easier for Chief Barrach to operate." Candy continued. "He said he'll have the whole car full with policemen."
"And what will happen when all those policemen "surprise" MacDonald's man? While having you by his side..? Have you thought of that, Candy?" He asked her, and let this time the worry to colour his voice.
Terry was afraid.
For the first time in this, he really was afraid. That story with Christian, had well and truly touched them in a significant way. Even if for himself, he had not much regard.
To put it plainly, he did not care for himself.
But for Candy...? Whatever happened between them,
Whether they ended up together or ended up apart,
Whether they were meant for each other, or
Whether their relationship was just a teenage fantasy;
all the above did not matter.
What matter for Terry, now and for always was for Candy to be ok. To be safe. To be fine.
To continue her life, as she saw fit.
To be happy.
That was always his wish. Always.
"I cannot let you do this, Candy!" He took the advantage while he got Candy's attention.
The kettle whistled. Terry stubbed the cigarette on the ashtray. Poured water inside the tea pot. Brought the empty tea cups to the small table that stood between the two beds.
"It is our only opportunity, Terry."
He poured the tea to the teacups.
"Do you realise why I left you on those hospital stairs, Terry?" Candy suddenly said to him.
Candy's question hit him like electricity. He let the tea pot down.
He said nothing on her question. Having realised there was more from where that had come from, he sat down at the side of her bed with her gaze fixed inside his.
The unexpected situation that had arisen on the island, finding out that Christian, the man who Candy had chosen to help her put the past behind her including what she felt for Terry,
his rival till a day ago...
the man who for the past couple of months Terry came
to like, to hate,
to envy and despise,
Seeking revenge against...
To admire...
That man was his twin brother;
Chased by criminals.
So, here they were, once again, where fate was bringing Candy and Terry against a situation which increasingly bore the same hallmarks to a situation that had led to their break up, ten years ago.
Behind Terry's stare inside her green eyes that shone with the fever of the anticipation, hid a sense of trepidation, an all too familiar feeling he never thought he'd feel again. Just the mention of the fateful night at the hospital was enough to stir the murky waters of the past inside him.
"Do you think we'd be happy if we continued as a couple, disregarding Susanna's predicament?" Candy continued.
"I don't know Candy..." He replied as honest as he could. "How can you tell without having tried? We didn't try..."
He sounded bitter.
Was he bitter? Of course he was. At the beginning of his life with Susanna, very much so. It bothered him that Candy had left so quickly. It bothered him that he had been caught in such a deadly avalanche of events, that had rendered him completely unfit, emotionally paralysed to even string together a sentence.
Ten years ago, all he had managed was to beg her to stay for one moment. He had reached her while she run down the stairs, hugged her waist tight. He hadn't even faced her. He whispered to her ear.
Please stay, only for a moment.
Pathetic!
He hated himself for a long time after that night. Having lost it, letting her go. It didn't matter whether or not Susanna hadn't left them with an option, other than him staying with her.
The absence of words... it haunted him for years.
Τhe bitterness may had mellowed, but it never had left him completely.
She pressed her lips, and looked at him intently. "Please answer me in seriousness." She said, knowing all to well the subject she had broached.
Having spent all those years apart, she had come to believe they'd never find the chance to speak about what happened between them that night. "You couldn't even tell me about what happened when I came to New York-"
"Can you blame me?!" He cut her immediately.
Capped her shoulders with his hands and held her still while he bore into her eyes. He tensed up, tried hard not to lose his temper. Old feelings he had pushed back for years threatened to come to the surface.
"No, no! I don't!" She moved her head sideways. "My point is though, you hesitated Terry, and you hesitated for good reason... and that good reason was Susanna."
She brought her hands up to his face, covered his cheeks with her hands. Her fingers felt cool against his warm skin. Her gaze was gentle but firm. Determined to reach her point. "You already knew, it was the end of us, Terry. I chose to say it for the both of us. And believe me. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life. But Susanna needed help, she did... and she needed you."
She stopped and let the silence spread for a moment; for it weigh heavy on her chest to say those words without tearing up, even after the distance a decade had put between then and their present. "We sacrificed what we had, for her."
"I'm done with the self sacrificing, Freckles!" He protested and took her hands from his face. Held them tight into his.
"I was done with the self sacrificing too, the moment Albert was gone and I realised I had to live for myself. And Christian? hate him or not, helped me to do that. I care for him, Terry. Deeply care... He is your brother!"
Her voice became stronger and the colour came back on her face.
"And I am sorry I took so long to let you know. I am more sorry I didn't trust you." A torrent of confession left Candy's heart. Things she longed to say to Terry, past and present.
"Is it our fate to face impossible situations? I don't know... but whatever lies for both of us ahead, we won't be happy if we pass him by and don't help him. This is our chance!" The light shone inside her eyes. He hated to say it, but she was right. Even if the thought of putting her as bait for catching MacDonald's man made him sick in his stomach, and the fact she wasn't listening to him made his blood to shimmer inside his veins, there was no stopping her.
Terry's mouth found hers. Prevented her from talking further. Last time he kissed her, was just before she left to pick up her bag she had forgotten at the wedding reception. It had been only twenty four hours before but it felt like a lifetime away. As if they had woken up and found themselves living to a parallel world. Where Candy's lover happened to be his twin brother, being chased by criminals.
Feeling the soft skin of her lips under his, responding, kissing him back... it was the sanest thing that happened between them when everything else around them felt as steadfast as quick sand.
He held her face between his hands. Her slender fingers rested at the back of his neck.
"I won't be more than two meters away from you, Terry." She whispered.
"I won't let you be more than two meters away from me, Freckles..." He said back. His voice sounded deep, worrisome. The line between his brows had deepened, knowing well the responsibility his words carried.
If something went wrong...
It would be the end of him. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to her.
Christian went down those wooden stairs and entered a lightless corridor. The smell of damp earth invaded him, entered through his nostrils, stuck on his face like a second skin as he walked one step at a time further inwards on the tunnel which wasn't much higher than his height while standing and not much wider than having to stretch his arms sideways.
He took the lighter from his pocket and flicked it. Its flame provided light enough for him to see where he was going.
He must have done not more than fifty steps inwards when he saw an old torch sticking out the wall. The fabric twisted around it felt hard to the touch. It must had been dipped in paraffin wax, just like candles. Relieved he wouldn't have to use the lighter all the way through the tunnel, he lit the torch and walked with renewed drive to find out whether this tunnel would be his answer to his prayers, of carrying out that burglary as painless as possible.
It was after one in the afternoon when Charles MacDonald returned to his home.
Following the morning visit to the Blind Beggar of Detective Shaw who clearly had more than a bone to pick with MacDonald, he did not feel wise to hold the meeting at the pub with the man himself, Christian that is, together Mr. Martin Brown from C. Morris & Co and Billy to go over the particulars of the visit to the Grandchester estate that same morning.
Shaw's behaviour bothered and intrigued the leader of the Elephant Boys, especially as Shaw seemed to connect him to the Raven without any concrete evidence that he knew of. One more reason to finish with him, or finish him off... regardless Alice's threat.
Whether or not, she would hate him afterwards, he really did not care. Sooner or later, Alice would come back to her old self and her old life, having recognised whatever took place between her and Christian was nothing more than a fling.
In their world, only siding with the stronger would guarantee you survival. Perhaps for a moment, Alice thought she could turn her back to a life that hadn't treated her all too bad till then, but it was a life she could not change, nor discard just because she happened to like the looks of a disillusioned artist who painted the portraits of rich ladies during the day and thought he was Robin-the-fucking-Hood at night. Alice was MacDonald's kind of people, and when those people wanted to change, they had to pay a price. Theirs wasn't a world, you could come into and leave at any time you liked.
His housekeeper attended to him, when he entered the house. She didn't hide her surprise when she saw him and he informed her he was expecting some people. In the meantime, he had two of his men patrolling around the premises, just to be on the look out for any police officers.
He walked towards the cellar. He reached the door handle, took a breath and unlocked the door. He came down the stairs, and switched on the light. Alice was sitting on the floor with her back on the wall and her legs bent in front of her. She raised her head from where she had it resting on her knees and looked at him. She squinted her eyes, as her vision was adjusting to light, but it was obvious, the anger had not left her.
"Get up and get dressed." He said to her but it was more like an order.
"Why?" She asked him.
"I'm not in the mood for discussions, Alice." He replied to her. "And frankly I think you have lost any right for asking for explanations, sweetheart."
He turned his back, just as he was ready to go up the stairs. He really wasn't in a mood to discuss the "Christian" issue that lay between them.
Alice was having none of it. "Because of Christian?! While he kept me away...?"
"Yes... No..." He replied, sounding unsure of himself. "You made yourself clear this morning, Alice!" He said in the end.
"Really?!" She retorted. "You see, I really don't get it Charlie. Wasn't I against killing him from early on? When was I in favour of violence, Charlie?"
He didn't answer.
He turned and walked right in front of her. Held her from her shoulders. Piercing her eyes with his.
"Oh come on now, Alice! You forget how you threatened me if I lay a finger on him?!" He said while trying not to lose it again. "Look me straight in the eyes and tell me nothing happened between you two."
She didn't answer. She wanted to answer. She wanted to deny what took place at the forrest cabin between her and Christian. To even consider it as just something physical that took place, without meaning anything more. But she couldn't. They just kept staring at each other. Charles was the one who spoke first.
"I thought as much... " He said and turned away. Without stopping, he went up the stairs.
"Get dressed Alice and come to the office." He ordered her.
Christian approached MacDonald's house with caution.
He had come straight from the Bling Beggar once he realised the place was crawling with police outside. Police officers in civilian passed up and down the street in front of the pub. Christian had parked the motorbike at some distance and pretended to look at a map he had stashed on one of the saddle bags. He hadn't stayed for more than fifteen-twenty minutes tops and he had started to notice their faces. Same faces, same people, going up and down the street, pretending to be passing by. He had pulled the driver goggles down to cover his eyes, pressed the pedal down, and revved his bike up as he drove down the street, under they eyes of the unsuspecting Bluebottles. The rush of adrenaline he felt running inside his veins, brought a smile on his face.
Considering all he'd been through, he needed that.
After him looking around the Highgate cemetery and finding the secret tunnel inside the Grandchester family mausoleum, which he walked down its entire length, having managed to open an iron gate half way, without too much problem, till he reached a door which opened only one way, he left. That door, he was certain was the door he would reach when he went down those stairs he saw inside the vault room, in the Duke's study.
He wasn't overly worried. A locked door wasn't going to cause him any problem.
Once he had left the cemetery, he had returned to the National Gallery. Through the staff door, which Nicholas had provided him with a key, he entered. Filled a leather weekend bag with a couple of changes of clothes, all his personal belongings, papers and whatnot, wrote a thank you note to Nicholas for everything
He'd been a good friend.
He scanned the road before he came down from his motorbike. The situation here, compared with the Blind Beggar seemed much quieter. He already had informed Mr. Brown, they'd need to meet with Charles after they had finished their respective visits to the Grandchester estate.
He knocked at the front door. The caretaker let him. Led him to MacDonald's study.
"Mr. MacDonald will be here soon." She said to Christian and opened the door.
The moment he entered the room, the grey clouds inside his eyes turned darker, turbulent. Alice was there, dressed in a dark navy pinstripe masculine suit, looking sharp.
Looking...
The two of them stared at each other as if they were about to draw pistols in a duel. So well versed, both of them were, into locking their feelings behind stares, making them disappear.
They had to disappear. A quiet cough was heard inside the room. Christian turned.
"Hello Billy." He greeted his partner. "It's been a while..."
It was true. He hadn't seen Billy for a while. All the planning between him and Christian had been going on through phone calls mostly. Dropped messages through third people. They weren't going to risk being seen together, especially now.
"Hello mate. Indeed!" Billy replied, with a unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.
Christian turned to Alice. She too was drawing a cigarette from a silver case that lay on Charles' desk.
"What are doing here?" He asked her, sounding almost angry with her.
"Nice to see you too, Feathers." She replied.
At that moment, Mr. Brown also entered the room. He got greeted by everyone. Alice took the chance and approached Christian. Enough so she could whisper while Billy was talking to Mr. Brown about his task at the Grandchester mansion.
She spoke while both of them had their eyes on the two men.
"Don't flatter yourself..." She said as quiet as she could. "Charles asked me to be here..."
Christian turned and looked at her. She smelled masculine and sexy. Honeyed tobacco, vetiver and orange blossoms. Memory flashes of her naked body under the trembling candlelight inside the forrest cabin came to his mind. The muscles of his jaw tensed. He hated the attraction he felt for her. This was not a time for feeling weak.
"So it's back to business then...I am glad." He whispered back.
Charles entered the room, before she had the chance to explain. Even a little. That she was a prisoner of Charles, that she had defended him. She hadn't even managed to warn him...
The leader of the Elephant Boys couldn't look more dapper and more authoritative in how he looked and moved. He was every inch the man who pulled the threads that held the lives of everyone in that room and boy, did he know it.
He walked behind his desk and sat down.
"I'm happy to see you all here." He said and looked at them being around the desk, except Alice who stood by his side a little further away, towards one of the big windows that stood behind the desk.
Mr. Brown had already sat down on one of the armchairs in front of MacDonald's desk. One could tell, by the body language he used, having his legs closed and his big doctor's bag resting on his lap, clutching its handle, he looked as if he wanted to hide behind it.
Christian felt sorry for the man. He wondered what could have been the favour he owed to Charles to actually make him do this. Gambling debts? Money help of some sort? Trapped in the same sinister web, they all were.
The man described the jewellery in details. How many necklaces they were, bracelets, rings, earrings, tiaras, the lot. The diamonds, the emeralds, precious stones unearthed from the guts of mines, adorning one of the most aristocratic families of the British empire. How many carats they were, what type, what colour, how rare they were. Everything. The man had been more than fastidious, he had left everyone dumbstruck, in awe as they listened of his descriptions. MacDonald's eyes were alight with the fever of pure greed. His face was flushed.
He cannot even hide it
Christian thought.
Jewellery of priceless value, having escaped the hands of Russian revolutionaries. Other pieces belonged to the Grandchester family for generations. Those had been inside a jewellery box adorned with mother-of-pearl drawings.
Charles turned to Christian.
"And you? Have you managed to see everything you need?" He asked him.
Christian had been listening so far with his arms crossed over his chest while leaning over a heavy dresser table that stood opposite to Charles's desk.
"Before I say what I have to say, Mr. Brown is not needed any more and I suggest he can go." Christian replied.
Indeed, Charles agreed to that. What the man had to say he did share every information he had. There was no reason for him to stay to listen what the rest of them would discuss. So he dismissed him. Mr. Brown looked more relieved than anything else. With a restrained smile, he acknowledged everyone in the room.
"Mr. MacDonald, I am assuming that I have now repaid the favour I owed to you. I only wish for discretion from your part."
"Do not worry, Mr. Brown..." Charles said. "As long, as you guarantee your silence about this... you are an innocent victim of the scammers who made you believe that the Duke indeed had asked for the jewels to be cleaned. Same as his butler."
"Indeed." The man replied. "Whatever happened, I'll take with me to the grave. You have my faithful word."
"Then we are settled, Mr. Brown." Charles said. He rang a small silver bell that was on his desk. Not two moments later, his housekeeper showed up. He asked her to show Mr. Brown out.
When the door closed behind them, Charles turned back to Christian.
"So? Waiting for you to tell us. Have you finalised your plan?" He sounded eager to know.
Christian stood a little more upright. "I have." He replied and took care to be close-fisted with his words. He had agreed to team up with MacDonald, but he hadn't agreed to give him a full disclosure of how he would execute the break-in.
"And do you care of illuminating us with what you found?" Charles asked him.
"With all due respect, I don't think it's of any use to you or anyone else, Charles." Christian said, staring straight at Charles's eyes.
The man didn't respond. He looked back at Christian. He then smiled; laughed a slight laugh, something that didn't even feel like a laugh, but more of like an introduction of what he was about to say and what he had to say, it was damn certain that Christian wouldn't like it.
"Oh, as always Mr. Blake provides the entertainment." He said at the end of his laughing.
"Christian, mate..." Billy warned quietly his friend, who turned towards him. With a stern stare stopped him adding anything further. Christian meant it when he said, he wasn't going to reveal anything.
"You know I could easily make you sing like a bird and when you do, you'd be wishing you had told me what I need to know without going to all that pain and hurt of people you love...Christian." Charles said while he approached him.
"I honestly don't understand of what use is to you of how I plan to enter the Grandchester house, or how I will relieve him of his precious treasures or how I will get out. You'll get what we agreed. Wasn't that the deal between us, boss?" Christian replied to him, seemingly unwavering, unaffected by the threats of Charles.
The sound of the Boss word at the end of his sentence, rubbed MacDonald the wrong way. The way it left Christian's lips, it sounded more like an insult, a mockery of things.
"All right." He said. "Have it your way." Charles replied back to him.
Turned and faced Alice who was witnessing the stand-off between the two men. Her heart was pounding hard inside her ribcage. Christian looked as if he had a death wish.
"Alice, you'll go with Christian tonight. I need someone who's of my confidence and our darling painter here is testing my patience."
"Wait a minute!" Christian raised his voice and flexed his body. "There is no plan as such of taking anyone with me!"
MacDonald's lips were drawn into a wicked smile. So now, he could play... He turned once more towards Christian. "What? You don't want Alice...?" He asked. "I thought Alice and you had some special understanding between you.
A bond.
"Listen here, you son of a bitch." Christian said through clenched teeth. He had passed the point of caring with the fucking underworld of London. "What I'll do and how I'll do it, concerns only me and me alone. You'll get the fucking jewels alright! I don't need Alice. Having Alice in the first place was what brought all that. She was the biggest mistake." Christian said and at the moment he said it, he clenched his teeth, knowing. He had taken it a step too far.
The next thing he heard was the door banging. Alice had left the room.
Charles leaned closer, close enough to be able to whisper to Christian's ear. "See what you did? You hurt her feelings. And she has a soft spot for private school boys playing thieves like yourself... but she'll turn around. I know she will. I'm her kind, her world and you're a goddamn fantasy."
He made a turn and walked back to his desk.
"I don't care whether you fly inside the house or go through the fucking chimney like Santa Claus, Christian. What I do care, is to know you won't fuck with me. So you better stop behaving like a prick and start talking. I need to know when and from where you'll start. Where will Billy wait for you. Your pal from Scotland Yard has the hots for you and I'm sure he'll have bluebottles* on the ground." (*police officers)
Charles finished talking and when he mentioned Shaw, he also shot Christian with a quizzical stare. For he felt there was something going on, something he couldn't put his finger on, but it did feel off to him, the way Shaw had connected him to Christian.
"My pal? My PAL?!" Christian answered back
"You need to reign in the paranoia, Charles. May I remind you, it was MY knife, your dear Alice threw in Lord Wooster's garden which brought Shaw sniffing up my leg. As I said, you should have kept your woman away but you didn't listen to ME."
Christian lit the rolled cigarette he held while he talked.
He had let his temper flare while knowing all too well the thin line he walked on. Whether it was because he was cornered by MacDonald, when he thought he had the upper hand, or whether it was seeing Alice there by MacDonald's side, as if nothing happened... Whether it was the anger he felt for himself for putting Rose in danger, there were a lot of reasons for Christian to find difficult to keep in control the steam that was building inside him.
Charles hadn't responded to Christian's last angry words. It was in his best interest to let him finish the job. He wanted that loot, the Grandchester jewels. He'd be the undisputed king of London's gangland. A legend. The one who had managed even to put fucking Raven at his service. To his beck and call. Shame he'd have to snuff him out once the job would be done. But Christian had been as volatile and unstable as a land mine. He may had been the most famous thief, London had seen but he'd be damned if he let him explode while in his hands.
Christian took a draw from the cigarette. Took the smoke down, felt himself relax.
"At eleven tonight, I will approach the mansion."
"Isn't that early to break in a Duke's mansion?" Charles asked him, having raised his brow expressing his doubting.
"I have been informed from his butler that Richard Grandchester will be out tonight. He'll be at home only briefly between seven and nine in the evening. He and some of his peers from the House of Lords will be gathering for late dinner and entertainment at the Rules restaurant." He said while he played with the tip of his cigarette, rubbing it against the ashtray.
"I see."
"The safe is in a vault. Hidden behind a bookcase in his study." Christian continued. "I only need to open the safe, take what I need to take and get the heck out of there."
He turned and looked at Billy. "Billy here will be waiting for me at the West entrance of the Highgate cemetery, close to the Egyptian Avenue. At about 12midnight, that is."
He saw the surprise in his eyes. "Meeting there, should be relatively safe and I found a path that leads to the cemetery from the Grandchester estate. Meanwhile, if there is any sudden moves from police, I can hide plenty in the cemetery, provided that Billy lets me know on time."
The company of three continued the talk for at least another half hour, putting down the last details on that evening's operation. They shook hands. Wished everything to go as planned. Certainly Christian seemed to know what he was doing and he lacked no confidence. The two men would use a safe house from thereon, till after the break in when they would head there, and wait for Charles to phone them. He was to show them out, but just as they were approaching the door of his study, the phone rang. He returned back to his desk and made a motion with his hand, allowing the two men to exit the room.
Billy and Christian came out and headed to the main door. Christian took his paperboy hat out and wore it, pulled way down over his eyes, just before the housekeeper was to open the front door, when she was stopped by Alice's voice.
"Christian." She called him.
He turned. Met with her turbulent stare, her raised hand. He managed to catch it midway before it hit his face. They stayed like so for a moment. Frozen in time. Her big hazel eyes, fixed on him, with the anger, swimming hot inside them.
"I hope I never see you again." The words came out her mouth forceful and hurt. He'd be better if she had spat on him.
He hated himself for letting things become so complicated between them. But he had no power to turn the time back or erase what happened. His grey eyes turned cold. He moved her arm down.
"Don't worry, you won't." He replied with a dry voice. Let her arm free to fall by her side.
"Mate, we need to go." Billy said under the silently awkward gaze of the housekeeper, while Christian felt Alice's eyes throwing daggers on his back.
When he turned to face the caretaker, Alice had already left. Managed to catch a glimpse of her walking up the stairs.
"Right, we're off." He said, thanked the caretaker and he and Billy left MacDonald's mansion.
Highgate, 7pm
The black Rolls Royce stopped in front of the entrance of the Grandchester mansion.
Having thanked his driver Richard Grandchester came out. Evidently tired, he stood still for a couple of seconds, having pinched the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes where he felt a dull headache that had persisted since lunch.
Those days at the House of Lords were long, too long sometimes to keep up with the intensity of the debates that took place between the walls of the Parliament.
And he wasn't getting any younger... But if he had to be absolutely honest with himself, he could not just blame the long day at the House of Lords, being the exclusive cause for his tiredness.
He had not slept well for a few days now, it had to be said. Not since Terry and that painter, Christian Blake had visited. Was that a week ago? More or less, it was.
Terry's presence...
His son entered his life once again so sudden and unexpected after years of absence and silence. It brought a lot back for the ageing Duke. It brought back the woman he hadn't seen for almost twenty years now. Terry's mother, Eleanor was someone who really had not left the mind, nor the heart of the British aristocrat but he had managed for a long time to keep those instances when she entered his thoughts to a bare minimum. Not only in number, but he had also achieved to keep them fleeting, not long enough in duration, to actually cause him emotional upheaval.
Richard Grandchester was a man of order, of iron will. That was how he was brought up. Disciplined. Phlegmatic. A perfect example of the famous British stiff upper lip and all that. Sentimentality was a weakness, and his life as part of the monarchy, the infamous British Institution, had no space for frivolous, fickle feelings.
His son could laugh at him. He already could visualise Terry's condescending laughter, a laughter as sharp and hurtful as a knife, butchering his beliefs, caring not one iota whether blood was spilled or not.
Fuck your iron will... what good did it do for you? Being called a Duke? In the 20th century?
A New World was dawning and he had kicked true love for something that belonged to the Middle Ages. But unlike his son, Richard Grandchester was not a rebel. He had never been.
The only exception he had allowed himself was Eleanor, the young American actress who had made her theatre debut in London. That was when he had laid eyes on her for the first time. Love at first sight was an understatement for young Richard. It was as if he had witnessed the first dawn of the sun on Earth when she came out on the stage. The winds of love between them were nothing less than a hurricane, had spun them both with dizzying intensity and force fuelled by youth's blindness.
Yes, since Terry's return to London and their close encounter where for the first time they spoke like father and son but also like men, both having loved and lost, like a door, however small had opened inside his soul, letting the memories to venture out free and uncontrollable keeping him awake at nights.
Then it was Christian Blake... The enigmatic young man whom he felt drawn towards to, reminding him so much of his youth. That unstoppable enthusiasm and cockiness, his relationship with an American once more, Candice White none the less, the woman who Terry had dedicated his heart to... Having to endure Christian's unabashed showing off of his relationship with her... A woman with two names, two loves. The revelation from the Scotland Yard Detective about Christian's secret identity. Targeting his home...
"Sir..." Richard heard his butler's voice. "Are you feeling alright, Sir?" He expressed genuine concern seeing him standing like so at the entrance of his house.
Richard opened his eyes. Gave him a tired smile. "I am fine James, thank you." He replied. "Let's go inside."
Once inside, the Duke took a deep breath. He always relaxed when he came home. He wasn't in a big mood of going out to dine that evening but he had promised his peers. He sighed. There was one thing he shared with Terry. Both father and son hated social events. But unlike Terry, Richard was better in applying himself, knowing all too well the usefulness of such affairs.
"Has the Duchess contacted you by any chance, James?" He asked as the butler was taking the Duke's jacket off.
"Indeed she has done so, Sir." He replied.
"What time is she coming tomorrow? Has she said?"
They started walking towards the living room.
"Yes, she has, Sir. The Duchess is arriving with the Flying Scotsman at nine in the morning."
"I see." Richard commented.
"Are you planning to send a car Sir, or will you be picking her up yourself?" His butler asked.
"I will decide in the morning." The Duke replied and both men entered the living room.
His eyes fell almost immediately on the white handkerchief that lay on the coffee table, next to the newspapers of the day. He picked it up. Turn his face towards James.
"Where did this come from?"
"That is you handkerchief, Sir Richard." James said as a matter-of-fact. "You had a couple of visits here. Mr. Brown from Morris & Co. came to clean the jewellery as you have asked them. That's where you had left your handkerchief, Sir."
Richard looked at the linen piece of fabric on his hand. It was his but...
"Christian Blake was also here, Sir." James added. "He looked around to pick up rooms to discuss with the Duchess when he'll be drawing her portrait."
The colour all of a sudden left the Duke's face. He put the handkerchief back on the table. Pears of perspiration glowed on his forehead. He brought his hand up and untied his silk tie, unbuttoned a couple of buttons. His breathing turned shaky.
"Sir, are you alright?!" James asked and approached the Duke right away to help him sit down.
The Duke didn't need any help. "I am fine, thank you James." He replied, sounding out of breath almost.
"Sir, I hope this sudden malaise is not connected by any chance with the visits?" James asked, while feeling increasingly nervous, come to think about it, since the Duke hadn't informed him about them to start with.
"What?!" The Duke asked.
James looked worried. "You hadn't informed me about them but Mr. Blake I already knew and Mr. Brown... well, you had left your handkerchief at Morris & Co... and the Duchess is coming so I assumed..."
"You assumed correctly, James." The Duke replied. "I am just feeling a little bit under the weather. That is all." He added while trying to put his thoughts in order.
Detective Shaw had warned him. He was a target.
But that handkerchief... He hadn't seen it for twenty eight years. Eleanor's handkerchief.
He asked for James, to bring him a hot tea. When the butler left the room, Richard stood up. Picked up the heavy crystal decanter from the drinks cabinet and poured himself a shot of whiskey and drank it on the spot. He poured another one. Drank it with the same speed. He then turned and walked back to the sofa. Sat down. Picked the handkerchief from the coffee table. Brought it close and stared it at it for a while.
On the left hand side corner, there was the Grandchester coat of arms with the crowned swan embroidered with deep blue silk thread. With that particular shade of blue, two delicate embroidery lines started from the emblem and continued around the four sides of the handkerchief, till they met again at the corner opposite the emblem. There, with a very intricate pattern, the letters E and R interlocked, one inside the other. The pattern was really discreet. For someone who didn't know, it looked like something an expert embroiderer would do, to mark their craftsmanship.
Richard however...
"Matching handkerchiefs, Richard?" She asked him with a bemused expression on her beautiful face.
Eleanor loved to tease him. Seeing him so in love, the perfectly poised and controlled future Duke of Grandchester, having lost his mind over an American actress, only starting her career.
She was flattered beyond measure of course. Not wanting to admit it forthwith, she had fallen in love with that man. The fact that he behaved like a man who had lost his mind over her and wasn't afraid to show it, melted her heart.
"I want you to have this." He had said, playing in her own game. "And keep it close to your heart." He added. His blue eyes burned with a mischievous flame while he folded the delicate fabric and placed it inside her brassiere, in contact with her breast, the tips of his fingers grazing the naked swell of her breast, all the time keeping her eyes inside his. "To keep me warm..."
"And I'll do the same." He said and placed his, inside the breast pocket of his jacket.
"Lord Grandchester, do you know you are very naughty." She replied while laughing. "Using a handkerchief that way to just make indecent gestures."
Richard pushed his face inside his hands, buried it inside the handkerchief, taking a deep breath. If only he could breathe the past, the happiness of that moment, the love... He let the breath out. Time had passed, time has changed them. What mattered was at that moment, was how on earth this handkerchief found his way back to him...
And then something he never thought possible, something he never thought he would have to deal with, ever in his life, dawned inside his mind;
took shape,
bones, and meat on them,
life;
And took a name...
Christian.
London Tower, February 1912
He had arrived at the Salt Tower, one of the several towers that made the most famous prison in London, the London Tower.
The Salt Tower was originally known as the Tower of Julius Caesar and later, the Tower of Baliol. Rumour had it that it took its name from the nobility that had been kept prisoners within its circular walls. Just as those famous prisoners were people used to luxury, living a life of sparing no expense, salt had been more like the symbol of such lives, being such an expensive item to have and use, therefore, the tower that accommodated such people took the apt name of Salt Tower.
In February 1912, London was buzzing with the babies scandal. Dr. Gardner, one of the most prestigious obstetricians in the city had been in the centre of it. Though, he had initially defended his position by insisting that he simply was helping infertile couples to achieve the dream of parenthood without going through the anguish of adopting children from the orphanage, he had admitted his guilt later on, once it was also revealed that he was paid large fees to find the perfect babies for the unfortunate couples.
Richard had resisted the temptation. Although alarm bells had been ringing from the very start, when the news broke and he had read everything on the newspapers, he hesitated to face the possibility, whether or not Dr. Gardner who also was the doctor responsible for assisting Eleanor with the birth of his sons, had dupped them into believing that one of them had been dead.
It was so farfetched, after all.
To take a new born in exchange of money from a poor, unmarried woman, or even a family who had already a lot of mouths to feed and could not afford another... that he understood. Although not particularly moral to start with, and illegal to consider, poor people had done a lot more to survive and people of his class had taken advantage of such a need.
Did he really want to face a past so hurtful? A stillborn son, an event so traumatic for Eleanor and himself that precipitated the end of their relationship.
In the end, Richard found it almost impossible not to know. That was why he had arrived at the Salt tower, a cold February day, fifteen years after... to find the answer. He had bribed enough people to keep their mouths shut.
A guard opened the cell where Dr. Gardner was kept. Despite its modesty, it contained everything the prisoner needed, in order to spend the remaining of his years, in relative comfort. He had a bookcase with books, a desk and a chair placed close to the narrow window so he could gaze outside.
Dr. Gardner greeted the Duke of Grandchester.
He looked drawn, tired. Whether the jail life had affected him, or whether it was the remorse he said he felt, it was uncertain, but the man with the large physique, the renowned scientist Dr. Gardner was no more. He offered the Duke a chair.
"I can't stay long." Richard had said to the physician.
"Of course." He replied.
"I debated with myself long and hard about this." He said back.
"You want to know about your stillborn son..." The Doctor went straight in to the heart of the matter.
It was obvious how uncomfortable the aristocrat felt being there. If someone had found about this... he could not afford the scandal. Not another one.
"Yes..." The Duke replied. "I want to know."
The Doctor let the silence sink in between them before he took a deep breath. He couldn't even face the man who was waiting in tenterhooks, anxiously for the answer.
"I am sorry Lord Grandchester, I truly am..." He began to say. "Your son was not born dead."
The revelation knocked the air out of Richard's lungs. He felt his breathing turning short and heavy. Since he had heard about the wrongdoings of this man, he had spent numerous nights awake, wondering...
What if...
But still, even after all that internal deliberation, even the suspicion that they were robbed of one more son, he wasn't prepared to hear the truth coming out from Dr. Gardner's mouth.
"So he's alive?"
"Yes."
The Duke took a long and audible breath. Filled his lungs with air.
"Would you want to know who he is...?" Dr. Gardner asked.
The Duke did not answer. Instead, he walked toward the window. Looked at the trees outside, bare and windswept, and yet, upright. What could would it be to know his name? Fifteen years after. He already had Terry with him and even that son hated him for what had happened between him and his mother. He blamed him for not sticking with her. For selling his soul. Marrying someone that was right for his position.
Terry was turning into a very troubled young man. Richard and the Duchess had discussed of putting him to the Royal Army Academy the year after.
"The boy needs to learn discipline." She had said. "He's very much a delinquent."
What good would it do them, if another son came to the family?
"No, I don't." The Duke answered.
A second pause followed.
"If it makes it any better..." The Doctor said.
The Duke stopped him momentarily with a stare that could kill. How can this man dare telling him "If it makes it any better?"
He closed his eyes to hide the anger that rose inside him. The younger Richard would have strangled the man.
"I know what I did is beyond excuse. It is despicable, in plain and pure terms." He said. "But believe me, he is in a good family. A decent family. An upstanding family."
The more he heard the Doctor talk about this family, the more tense he was becoming. And yet, he had to admit that in the end, despite what he felt inside, it was for the best. Terry's twin brother would never know where he came from but he was already in good hands, a loving family. Something that he felt, he himself had denied from Terry.
"Perhaps it is for the best." He said quietly.
The two men stared at each other for the first and last time. "I will never forgive you for what you did. I hope you die with that in your conscience." The Duke said and knocked at the door.
He left the Doctor behind on that February day in 1912... and a son he thought he never was to see. And yet... he did.
The butler brought him the tea. Asked him once again if he felt any better. The Duke said that he did. Once James left the room, he got up. Picked up the phone.
"Yes, operator. Can you please connect me with Scotland Yard Headquarters?
It was nearing 8pm in the evening. The train from Oban to Glasgow Central needed only a couple more stops till it reached its destination.
Despite the major reservations Terry had about the plan from Detective Shaw and the Chief of Police in Barra, James Barrach, seeing also the unwavering determination of the woman he loved to help his brother, he could do nothing else than follow orders.
At five in the afternoon, when the boat had reached the port in Oban, the group all disembarked and headed to the local police station. Tom Duffy under the watchful eye of the Chief of Police, phoned the man who waited for them in Glasgow, telling him that all went well.
MacDonald's man sounded quite pleased. He gave Duffy instructions. Which coach they should go in, which compartment. He had booked a cabin for himself and the girl.
"Go in, secure the girl in the cabin and leave."
"Meet me outside for your payment."
James Barrach mobilised everyone at Glasgow Police force. Even before they were approaching Glasgow, he had talked to them through the phone. The coach where MacDonald's man had booked a cabin for Tom Duffy to leave the girl was to be occupied by policemen, all in civilian, pretending to be fellow passengers.
Terry, and the police officer who had helped him on the isle of Barra were to take the cabin next door to the one where Rose would be.
What was deemed imperative in this plan, was to catch the criminal before the train left to London. So when Tom Duffy would come out to meet with him and take his payment, police officers would be on standby. The moment MacDonald's man would set his foot inside the train, ready to enter the cabin, they'd strike.
They would catch him, while they would have already detained Duffy outside with the payment, and they would all head for the police station in Glasgow where James Barrach would try to get a statement before the end of the night. What Robert Shaw in London wanted more than anything was a confession.
Who was behind the abduction of Rose White? Once he'd get the name of MacDonald, he would come down like a ton of bricks over Charles.
They did not exchange much in terms of speaking on the train from Oban to Glasgow. Terry was trying to calm his nerves and Candy was as silent as a nun. None of them revealed to the other, the fear and the worry that went through their minds.
The train started to slow down before it reached a stop at Glasgow Central.
"I am mad for letting you do this..." Terry said quietly to Candy as they were getting up.
"We will be fine." Candy said back to him. "Remember for who this is for, Terry."
He didn't comment on that. He knew she was right. But he was reluctant to accept it still.
"I will be watching you, always." He said before they were separated from each other.
8.30pm at Glasgow Central
Tom Duffy and Candy walked on their own, close to each other and headed toward the train to London King's Cross. They weren't talking to each other.
The young man was nervous. Really nervous. He had come to regret what he had let himself into. Perhaps his mother was right after all. He was no good. He'd be good though. He'd do this task, serve his time in jail and straighten up.
"Don't worry." Candy replied to him. "We are watched."
They entered the train. Coach B, Cabin 4.
Terry and officer MacRae, followed suit. While watching the couple in front of them, and wearing their Panama hats low over their eyes to avoid any unnecessary stares, they entered the same coach. Cabin 3.
James Barrach and a group of his men remained outside.
When Tom and Candy entered their cabin, there was some rope left on the bed. The man sent by MacDonald had already been there. He tied her hands on the bed post.
"I am sorry for this." He said to her before he left.
She didn't say anything. The smile was weak on her face. Worrisome. She prayed, this would be over soon.
Tom left the cabin. Just as he was walking down the narrow corridor to come out, he saw the man coming towards him.
"I thought we would-"
Tom Duffy didn't manage to finish his sentence. A knife blade plunged in his belly stopped him. Cut his life short. The man who did this, saw the life leaving the young lad's eyes, while they were standing in an awkward embrace and feeling the weight of his lifeless body on him. He dragged him by holding on, shoulder to shoulder, through the empty corridor. Opened the door at the end of the coach compartment. There on the empty space between the coaches, he threw him on the train tracks.
There was no reward for Tom Duffy. There was never going to be one. MacDonald wouldn't risk having any witnesses left behind. As if nothing happened he turned back.
Headed for Cabin 4.
On the platform, some distance away from where all that was taking place, Barrach and his men were still waiting. The delay started making him uneasy.
The first whistle sounded on the platform.
Ten minutes before departure.
"He's not coming." He whispered to himself.
"He's not coming." He said once more with conviction. He turned to his men.
"Quick, we need to go up on the coach. Duffy is dead."
The man opened the door of the cabin. He saw the fear inside Candy's eyes.
"Hello Miss. Boss is looking forward to meet you."