Hidden In Plain Sight.
Chapter Fifteen.
It was after Freddy had poured out four glasses of brandy, that he noticed Raif's absence.
"Where's Raif?" he asked, handing Harry and Dempsey their drinks.
"What?" replied Harry, absent mindedly taking hers, still somewhat dazed by the news of Theresa's murder. She looked around the room. "Oh, I don't know where he's gone."
"Beats me." said Dempsey, taking a hefty slug of his liqueur.
"He's probably in his room, or out for a walk." summised Freddy. "Theresa's death will have hit him hard."
"Yes, poor man." agreed Harry. "For such a handsome, debonair chap, he's not had much luck in the love stakes, has he."
"Oh I'm sure he's had his fair share, Harry." said Freddy. "From what I can recall, women were drawn to him like magnets. Your mother once remarked to me how attractive he was, even though she only ever had eyes for me."
Harry glanced at her father who responded before she could say anything.
"And no, darling." he chuckled. "There was never anything between them. I'm sure you have met attractive men since your relationship with James developed, but your head has never been turned since."
Dempsey glanced at her, eyebrows raised, a neutral expression on his face.
"Well? Has it?"
"Hmmmm." she answered, the imp in her momentarily smothering her pensive sadness, but seeing the shadow pass across Dempsey's eyes, she buried the mischief, putting her arm around his waist and kissing his cheek. "No, of course not! Yes, it's natural for a woman to notice a nice looking man, but that's as far as it goes for me."
Dempsey's eyes softened, his love for her plainly reflected in them and her heart swelled with the knowledge he didn't take her love for him for granted.
"Anyway." she went on. "You can't tell me you haven't swivelled your eyes at a sexy lady, Dempsey."
"Huh, I guess not." he chuckled. "No harm in lookin' though."
Before Harry could fire a sarcastic answer at him, there came a knock at the door, Abbott entering.
"Yes Abbott?" said Freddy.
"I'm sorry to disturb you your Lordship." replied Abbott. "But I thought you should know Mr Fitzallan has left in his car, seemingly in a hurry."
"Have his bags gone?" asked Freddy, a little surprised.
"I don't know sir, I've not been into his room." replied Abbott.
"Go and check, there's a good chap." ordered Freddy.
"Of course, sir. I'll be back in a moment."
Abbott returned five minutes later.
"His bags are still in his room, sir." he reported. "But I found this on the floor."
He handed over what appeared to be a photograph.
"Oh my good God!" exclaimed Freddy, handing it over to the other two.
"Saints alive!" yelled Dempsey, giving it to Harry. "That's Kurt Scheel! In his Gestapo uniform! That's the goddamned proof we need!"
"And Raif has had this all the time!?" she queried, astonished. "Why on earth has he kept it hidden from us!?"
"I can only assume he's been biding his time." offered Freddy. "Maybe teetering between dishing out his own justice or waiting to see if we came up with enough evidence to get him indicted."
"That don' make no sense, Freddy." replied Dempsey. "Along with all the other stuff we've come up with, this photo would have been enough to indict Scheel. I don' get why he ain't come up with it either."
"Well, only he can tell us now." said Harry, resignedly. "More's the point, where has he gone? Don't tell me he's about to confront Steele! Oh, my God! Has he got a gun?"
"Do you know something?" said Freddy. "I think he's completely forgotten about this photograph and it's significance. He's been totally wrapped up in his memories of Helen, then suddenly finding Theresa again and learning of her murder has caused him to snap! And he may well have a revolver. He would have been issued with one when he joined me - perhaps never handing it back after the war when he was de-commissioned."
"Yeah, the latter may be right, Freddy, but I don' buy your reasonin' for him keepin' that picture quiet." said Dempsey. "If ya wanna know what I think, he's jus' been waitin' for the right time to kill Scheel. He's wanted to make totally sure Christopher Steele is the man. Who knows when he was plannin' to get him, but ya right abou' Theresa's murder bein' the trigger now."
"Hadn't we'd better get after him then!" said Harry, urgently.
"Damn right princess!" agreed Dempsey, making for the door. "You comin'!?"
Harry looked at her father, raised her eyes to the heavens and chased after Dempsey.
Despite the circumstances, Freddy couldn't suppress a smile.
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Raif had made it his business to know where Steele both lived and worked, but seeing as it was close to 7pm, now headed for his home, doubting he'd still be in his office.
His mind was racing with choices as to how he was going to take his revenge on the monster who had robbed him of so much happiness. He would love to have him at his mercy and imagined all manner of ways to make him suffer, ensuring Scheel died in the same way as all his victims - in acute pain, fear and helplessness. But that would drag him down to Scheel's level and he could hear Helen's voice telling him he was above that - he was a gentleman not an ogre.
"KISS. Keep It Stupidly Simple" he kept telling himself. His plan was to knock on the front door and when Scheel opened it, Raif would level his Ballester at him, tell him who he was and why he was there, then shoot him between the eyes.
He'd then make his escape, clear in the knowledge that he wouldn't be free for long. James and Harry wouldn't take much time in tracking him down, they would know without doubt he was the killer and he'd resigned himself to spending the rest of his life locked up.
But what did he care? What had he to live for anymore? There was no-one special in his life, he'd never married, his parents were dead and he had no heirs.
Of course, to any onlooker, his plan would fail spectacularly if Scheel wasn't the one who opened the door. But, such was his state of mind, Raif hadn't even considered what he might do if that happened.
He pressed on.
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On the other side of London, a black 'S' class Mercedes saloon was also on it's way to Steele's house. Inside were four men, three of whom were ex commando's and trained killers. All three had been court-marshalled and drummed out of Special Forces as unsuitable for military duty. Their futures subsequently blighted for honest work, they had operated as mercenaries for a few years, then were recruited into the underworld, where their skills were both needed and even more lucrative.
The driver was Dave Bansted, Paul's business partner.
They weren't planning on simply shooting Steele - that would let him off lightly. No, their plan was far more painful. Torture, severely beat one of their own to within an inch of his life and destroy his business? That was unforgiveable.
An eye for an eye. That was their motto.
Steele would live, but by the time they'd finished with him the only way he'd be able to eat was through a straw.
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"Where are we headed, Dempsey?" asked Harry as he deftly negotiated the early evening 'going home' traffic.
"Steele's office." he replied.
"You think he'll still be there at this time?" queried Harry, noting the time on her watch.
"I dunno, sugar." replied Dempsey. "But it's on the way to his house and we'd look a cuppla knuckle-heads if we went there only ta find him still back in his office."
"I suppose so." she mused. "In fact it would be manner from heaven if he were elsewhere completely. We'd be bound to catch up with Raif then before he can do any damage."
"Sure thing, princess." agreed Dempsey, as he switched on two blue, flashing lamps hidden behind the Cosworth's radiator grill, followed by his siren, then accelerated past a line of stationary traffic, round the wrong side of a traffic bollard, slowing a little for a set of upcoming traffic lights, then roaring through them on red.
"Boys with toys!" sighed Harry loudly. "I knew it was a bad idea Spikings agreeing with you to have all these gizmo's fitted to the SI-10 cars!"
"You goin' soft in ya old age, sugar?" grinned Dempsey. "I'll tell ya, if you were still operatin' full time in the field, you'd be playing with 'em too!"
Harry knew he was right, but she'd always been a tad nervous as a passenger, despite him being an accomplished, talented driver and the years spent at his side in the passenger seat while he chased villains - or tried to escape them! But, put her behind the wheel and she was equally as fast - and daring.
"How annoying! You're right!" she chuckled, checking her seatbelt and tightening it further. "So, come on Fangio, step on it!"
Dempsey didn't need telling twice and gunned the car, weaving through the traffic, the howl of the exhaust bouncing off the buildings on either side of the streets.
They finally arrived at Steele's offices, noting immediately it was clad in total darkness, the car park empty. Dempsey switched off the ignition, the hot engine ticking as it cooled down.
"Why stop?" asked Harry. "It's obvious no-one's here!"
"Yeah, but howda we know Raif ain't parked up somewhere an' is preparing ta wait the night out til Steele gets here in the mornin'?"
"A possibility, I grant you Dempsey." replied Harry. "But he knows we'd be after him and likely to come here looking for him."
"Yeah, ya probably right, honey." agreed Dempsey. "But now we're here, might as well have a quick snoop aroun' - huh, whaddya say?"
Harry sighed once more.
"Come on then, Sherlock." she said, unclipping her seatbelt. "Five minutes, then we'd better head for his house."
"You got it, hon." agreed Dempsey and stepped out of the car.
They searched the grounds thoroughly, quickly scanned the street outside for sight of Raif's car and returned to the Cosworth ten minutes later having found nothing to indicate his possible presence.
"Satisfied?" cooed Harry.
"Yeah, I guess." answered Dempsey, glancing at her. She looked so beautiful in the semi-darkness of the car's interior, he couldn't stop himself throwing his arm around the back of her seat and leaning over to kiss her full on the lips.
"Mmmmm, that was nice." she said, somewhat breathlessly, her eyes twinkling. "Better keep your strength up, Valentino, making babies comes to mind for later."
He wriggled and squirmed slightly in his seat, Harry giggling at him, knowing exactly how turned on he was.
"Er, right." he said, firing up the car again. "Better get goin' before I lose all control!"
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Had Raif been thinking clearly, he would have realized that the odds against Madeleine opening the door to him were just as even as Scheel doing so. However, he needn't have been concerned.
Madeleine was staying at Georgina and Arthur's mansion, primarily to help with Hilda, who she adored and doted upon, but also because she couldn't stand to be in her husbands company since his maniacal stance over the ransom note and punching their son when he ripped it up.
She'd seen flashes off his other side during their marriage and it had frightened her, but she'd shaken of those fears and settled into the role of devoted wife, mother and grandmother as much as possible.
What Raif didn't know and, even in a sober moment might not even had contemplated, was that Scheel would be alone.
In fact, he wasn't.
Since he'd been confronted with the first note, compiled by Theresa, he'd taken out some insurance in the form of a couple of bodyguards to patrol the grounds around his house, fearful that Hilda's kidnapper wasn't acting alone and might send a hit squad after him.
Little did he know that his latter concern was very real, except that they had been enlisted via a different source with a deep seated grudge against him. Paul Lewis.
And for all his outwardly apparent bravado, Scheel was shaking in his boots. He sensed the net was closing in on him and retribution for his past was nearer than it had ever been.
When Raif eventually arrived at the Scheel house, he drove around it's perimeter wall, searching for a way to get into the grounds. It was dark and his mission pretty impossible, so the only thing for it, was to park up and walk around, until he finally found a gap that would offer him an entry point.
Mercifully, he found just the thing after a few minutes - it seemed the God's were smiling on him, or was that Helen?
Dressed in a black roll neck sweater, black jeans and black trainers, he blended into the night very easily, his senses once more on high alert, just as they had been on the various sorties behind enemy lines he'd been involved in during the war. He leapt up onto the wall, clambered quietly through the gap, dropped silently to the ground and crouched down into the undergrowth, scanning the area visible to him.
He saw nobody. Heard nothing - just the occasional rustling of the leaves on the numerous trees around him when a breeze suddenly blew in.
Ahead of him was open ground though. An enormous expanse of manicured lawns, eventually leading up to the Grade 1 listed country house, denied him of any cover.
He'd have to keep to the edge of the grass.
For all its many windows, only one or two were lit and all downstairs. He couldn't see the entrance, assuming therefore he'd have to traverse a considerable distance before he'd arrive at the front door.
Inside the house, Scheel was berating his two bodyguards, who were having a short break and drinking coffee in the kitchen.
"Why are you both sitting there!? I don't pay you to sit on your sorry arses. You are paid to protect me!" he boomed, then pointing outside. "Get back out there and do your job! And take those bloody dogs with you!"
Whilst the two hefty henchmen got to their feet and made their way to the dog kennel where two huge Rottweillers were sleeping, Raif was sprinting round the garden perimeter for all his worth and frantically hoping the front door would come into view.
At the same time as he spotted it, he heard the terrifying wailing and barking of what he instinctively knew were vicious guard dogs.
"Oh holy shit!" he exclaimed, under his breath. With the dogs came guards. He hadn't allowed for that. He couldn't stop now though and drew his revolver from its place in his waistband behind him.
Arming it, he gripped it tightly and kept on running.
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The black Mercedes cruised up to the main gates leading to the country house and stopped, it's big V8 engine idling quietly, but still in 'Drive'.
"They're likely to be alarmed if broken through." mumbled Spud Murphy, one of the occupants. "Best see if there's another way in, mate."
Dave nodded, took his foot off the brake and guided the car slowly along the perimeter lane flanking the grounds of the house, passing Raif's parked Jaguar XJ6, but thinking nothing of it.
"Maybe there's another property close by." suggested Dave. "We might be able to get in via the fields next to it. Bit of a long way round, but it might be our only chance."
"Yeah, worth a try." agreed Spud.
They ventured away from the house and, after about half a mile, passed a driveway leading up to a farmhouse.
"Park up 'ere for a mo, Dave." ordered Spud. "We'll hop out an' do a recce. Place looks quiet enough No lights on, we might be in luck, the owners could be away."
Dave did as he was told and waited while the other three got out of the car and disappeared into the darkness, returning a few minutes later, all three climbing back into the car.
"Yep, lookin' good." said Spud, from the front passenger seat. "No-one about, could even be empty. Can't take nothing for granted though, so park the motor up the road apiece an' we'll walk back. You can just see Steele's place in the distance over a cuppla fields. Should be able to get there, no probs."
"Okay." said Dave and backed the car into the lane, driving about a hundred yards along and finding the entrance to a field, its gate shut to guard any unwelcomed visitors, usually courting couples. "This alright?"
"Yeah." replied Spud, turning to one of his oppo's in the back. "Cutter? Get out an' open that gate, would ya."
Two minutes later the Mercedes was out of sight in the field, parked up close next to the the hedge that separated it from lane.
The other three alighted from the car, Dave remotely locking it and all four began their trek to Steele's house.