"Sure, go ahead call them. They'll pull this place apart, and when they find my violin they'll close your stinking Academy."
Zoé sighed. Shelley and Blake had been arguing for nearly five minutes. The British police might be interested to hear about a stolen violin, but they were hardly likely to organize a search team. "I think we should go," she said quietly.
Shelley suddenly conceded defeat. "Yeah, yeah, we'll go now, sure." She looked closely at Blake. "You needn't think I'm giving up on this. I'll have my violin back today, you just see."
"We are going?" Zoé asked. She had not expected her advice to be taken so quickly.
"Sure, honey, we're going." Shelley turned and stormed down the steps, pulling Zoé with her. "Come on," she said loudly, "we'll get a taxi back to your place."
As they reached the bottom of the steps Shelley stopped and whispered, "Go back? Like hell we will. I know a way into these grounds. We'll search Martin Smith's rooms together. Okay?"
Zoé knew it was anything but okay. Matt might do this sort of thing for work, but living on the edge of the law had never appealed to her. Nursing was a much safer profession.
"You look shocked," Shelley observed. "It's not stealing, honey. It's my violin and I want it back. Martin Smith is the thief." They reached the bottom of the drive, out of sight of the main building, and Shelley turned. "We make a right here and go up the side of the Academy grounds."
"If you are sure." Zoé felt numbed. But deep down she recognized that she did feel a little excited by the thought of getting into the Academy building unseen -- and searching the room of Martin Smith. It would be something to tell Matt when he got back. He might even be proud of her. She looked at her watch. Matt would have tried to phone her again by now, but he would not worry. He had plenty to keep him occupied in the Czech Republic.
*
"IT'S JUST along here," Shelley explained ten minutes later, when they reached the top fence. "If anyone comes we can easily hide in these gorse bushes."
The leaves already had a hint of brown, but they still provided plenty of cover. "Now let's find the way though the fence."
"The way through the fence? How do you know there is one here?" Zoé asked.
Shelley laughed. "All the older girls and boys have their special way onto the Mount, but they think the staff don't know about it."
"So what is it for?"
"What is it for?" Shelley stared in astonishment. "Girls? Boys? Why you think they want to use the Mount, honey?"
Zoé felt herself blushing. Then she began to laugh. Suddenly she stopped. A movement deep inside one of the gorse bushes made her jump. She caught Shelley by the arm. "There is somebody in there who is watching us."
"Come out," Shelley ordered, but Zoé thought her voice didn't sound particularly bold.
Slowly the small figure of a girl emerged. She was no Academy student; not with dirty jeans and a long black coat. In her hand she held a book. Zoé recognized the book and the sneakers. "Olga?"
Olga bit her bottom lip, looking incredibly guilty.
"What the hell are you doing, kid, spying on us?" Shelley demanded.
Zoé shook her head. "This is Olga," she explained. "She has not been spying on us. She is here to observe the wildlife on the Mount." She turned to Olga. "Is that not so?"
Olga agreed that it was so, and showed an already dog-eared copy of her book on birds. "What are you doing here?" she asked hesitantly, like a shy child.
"We are ... " Zoé looked at Shelley and tried not to giggle. They could hardly admit to trying to break into the Academy.
Shelley took charge. "There's a bad man around," she warned. "He's stolen something that belongs to me, and I have to get it back."
"A big man? What has he stolen?" Olga asked. "Is it something in a bag? Big, like this?" She held her hands wide apart, like an optimistic angler indicating the size of the one that got away.
"About," Shelley agreed.
Olga nodded.
"Hey, kid, what's all this about?" Shelly sounded angry. "Do you know something?"
"I am sorry." Olga backed off, retreating into the gorse bush.
Zoé realized that if Olga had been here for most of the afternoon, she would have seen anyone using the way through the back fence. A big man? She did not like to think it. Martin Smith had been a considerable help in her little orchestra in the town. "Did he have a wide moustache?" she asked.
Olga's eyes came alive, the first time her face had shown any expression other than anxiety. "A moustache like this?" She twiddled the ends of her fingers, one hand each side of her nose, as though arranging a moustache that a Victorian would have been proud to own.
"That damned pianist," breathed Shelley in anger. "Where the hell has he taken my violin?"
Olga glanced at the remains of the old farmhouse, only a few hundred yards up the hill.
"Did he take the bag there?" Zoé asked.
Olga just nodded.
"And is he still inside the building?"
Olga shrugged. "I have been looking at the birds."
Zoé could feel the excitement running through her stomach now. It was as though the baby was kicking, but at only three months this was impossible.
Shelley seemed to be sharing the feeling of excitement. "That guy's hidden my violin in that tumbledown farm! Hey, kid, how long ago was this?"
Olga opened her book and started turning through the pages. She pointed to a small brown bird perched on top of the fence about twenty feet away. "A linnet," she said. "I have a picture of it here."
Shelley waved the book away. "I haven't got time for that nonsense, kid."
Zoé noticed the disappointment on Olga's face. She went across and studied the picture. The bird on the fence almost certainly was not a linnet, but she nodded and smiled. "Good," she said, then turned to Shelley. "If we want Olga to help us, then let us show a small piece of courtesy." Courtesy was an English word she had learned recently. The idea of showing respect for someone had always appealed to her, but she had previously thought of it with the French word. La courtoisie. Her patients in the hospital certainly appreciated it.
"Sorry, kid." Shelley joined Zoé to look at the book, but Zoé doubted she took in what Olga was showing her. "Will you help us find where the big man hid the bag?"
Olga shook her head, her eyes wide. "Salman says it is too dangerous to go in there."
"Salman?" Shelley demanded. "Who the hell is Salman?"
Again Olga backed away. Zoé could see that in her present state Shelley was doing more harm than good. "Salman is her friend at the Homeless Anchor Trust," she explained.
Judging by Shelley's expression, she had no idea what the Homeless Anchor Trust was. "Anyway," Shelley said, "whoever Salman is, what the hell does he know about buildings?"
"Salman's father was a builder in Chechnya, before the Russians destroyed his village," Olga explained.
"Chechnya?" Shelley shook her head and looked at Olga. "Is the world going nuts, or am I?"
Zoé smiled at Olga. "Why does Salman think the building is dangerous?"
"It is the roof," Olga said. "And the chimney. Salman says that when the winter wind blows, the roof will fall in."
Shelley licked her finger and held up in the air. "Look, kid, there's no wind and it's not winter. So how about showing us round the place?"
Olga bit her bottom lip and shook her head.
"Will this help?" Shelley reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a high value note.
Olga grabbed the money with a thin, dirty hand.
"Not so fast, kid." Shelley snatched the note back and returned it her pocket. "You help us find the bag, and the money's yours. Is that a deal?"
Olga stared at Shelley's pocket. Perhaps she had never seen so much money in one go. "A deal," she agreed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
ZOÉ HAD misgivings right from the start. It did not need the opinion of a builder to know that the timbers in the farmhouse were
fragile. Pourri, rotten, might be a better description. Olga beckoned them through the wide front door. Shelley went second and Zoé followed.
"This isn't some sort of trick, is it?" Shelley demanded.
"No trick," Olga said.
Remains of the ceiling hung in jagged pieces from the overhead joists, but most of the white plaster lay on the ground underfoot. Many of the roof tiles were missing, and Zoé could see large patches of daylight through the floorboards in the room above. Only a fool would go up the broken staircase.
Olga seemed to have the same idea. "The man will not have taken the bag up there," she said, shivering a little. The temperature had dropped rapidly within the past few minutes.
"So what's the plan?" Shelley asked.
"Plan?" Olga seemed disoriented.
"The plan, kid. There aren't many places in this crummy place to hide anything." Shelley looked around, caught Zoé's eyes, and shook her head.
"There is the cellar," Olga said after a pause.
Zoé looked down the wide passageway that went from the front to the back of the building. The door to a cellar usually started behind the stairs, but she could see nothing.
Olga laughed. "I have been here several times on my own to explore. But Salman will not come." She kicked at some planks of wood on the floor. "There is a hatch under here."
Shelley must have read Zoé thoughts. "You must think I'm stupid or something," she said in exasperation. "Those old pieces of timber look as though they've been there since the year dot."
"The students come and move things around." Olga started to pull the pieces of wood away. "I am thinking that if I was a man who had something to hide, I would want to cover up the hatch. Have a look: there is no dust on this wood."
"The kid's right." Shelley reached for Zoé's hand. "Anyone with sense would want to disguise their tracks."
They stood and watched as Olga quickly uncovered a square panel in the floor. She reached for a recessed ring and lifted a small hatch.
Shelley walked forward and looked down into the blackness. "How do we get down there?"
"There are steps," Olga explained, though Zoé noticed that she kept well back.
"You go down, kid." Shelley pushed Olga in the back.
Olga squealed and ran to the door. "If I go down there you will trap me, and I will die."
Shelley sighed in exasperation. "It's my violin we're looking for, damn you. Get down there and fetch it for me -- if you want the money."
Zoé could see that Olga clearly did not need money that badly. "We all go," the Slovakian insisted.
"Just get down there, kid, and stop messing us about." Shelley sounded surprisingly firm.
"I think perhaps we have a problem." Zoé wanted to smooth the situation. "Olga does not trust us if we stay up here, and we do not trust Olga if we go down on our own."
"So what are you suggesting?" Shelley snapped. "We all go down?"
"That," Zoé said, "is about it."
Olga nodded with enthusiasm. "It is a good idea? We all go down? Yes?"
Zoé walked towards the edge of the hole in the floor. "Yes," she agreed.
Shelley came forward warily and held onto Zoé as though she needed help to keep her balance. "Does anyone have a light?"
"I have a cigarette lighter," Olga said. "Please, we must be quick. I have to get back to meet Salman."
Zoé put her hand to her mouth. "And I have to get home. I think I have left the back door unlocked. Matt phoned me when I was hanging out some washing. I had to hurry into the house. And then you came to the door, Shelley, and I forgot to lock it. What shall we do?"
"Do?" Shelley said. "We find my violin, that's what we do."
Zoé could see a flight of wooden steps leading down. Olga went first, but she waited halfway to make sure she was being followed. Zoé went next and as she looked back up and saw that Shelley had stayed behind. She shared the concerns of Olga about being trapped. Was she able to trust Shelley Carpenter?
"I'll stay up here and keep guard," Shelley called from across the room. "I can't stand heights."
Zoé shot back up the steps. "We all go," she insisted.
"Then you'll have to help me, honey." Shelley knelt on the floor and carefully lowered one foot backwards. Zoé placed it on the top step then cautiously, very cautiously, the second foot came over.
Olga snapped on her lighter, but it was difficult to see very far by the small flame. As the lighter flickered out Olga lit the flame again.
"Hey, kid," Shelley called as she finally reached the floor, "I hope you've got plenty of fuel in there."
Olga was already over on the far side of the cold, damp underground room. "There is nothing here," she called. She gave a little gasp. "I can hear someone coming."
Zoé could hear a noise from above. Suddenly the hatch slammed shut. Olga was up the wooden steps like a frightened squirrel up a tree, straining to push the hatch open. Whoever it was up there, they were not trying to be quiet. It sounded as though as though they were replacing the timber onto the top of the hatch. Then the lighter went out.
Shelley pushed her way past Zoé. Maybe she did not mind steps as long as it was dark. "Open this damn hatch," she screamed.
They could hear more timber being dragged around, but no one spoke. Then they heard a shout, a man's voice, followed by a crash that shook the air. It sounded as though the room above had collapsed. With Olga and Shelley at the top of the steps, Zoé held tightly on at the bottom.
"You'd better use that lighter again, kid." Shelley said as silence enveloped them.
"Maybe there is another way out," Zoé suggested, feeling the need to keep everyone's spirits up. "Olga, will you please use the lighter."
"It has stopped working," Olga said. "It is an old one I found."
"Then you'd better get us out of here damn fast," Shelley shouted.
"There is no escape," Olga said quietly. "I have been here before."
"That's brilliant," Shelley said. "We come down with an empty lighter and there's no way out."
"We are going to die," Olga said in a matter-of-fact voice. "I am sorry."
"You're sorry?" Shelley yelled. "I'm not ready to die yet, even if you are. Anyone got a bright suggestion?"
"Do you have a cell phone with you?" Zoé asked quietly.
"Hell, no, I sold it to one of the college kids. I'm going back to LA tomorrow morning. Don't you have one?" Shelley seemed to be calming down a little.
"Not with me." Zoé felt irritated with herself for not bringing it, but she had come out in such a hurry.
"I do not have one either," Olga said in a whisper." Then she added, somewhat unnecessarily, "I have no money to buy a phone."
Zoé heard it first. A slow creaking from above. It was impossible to make out anything in the darkness, but she was convinced that the ceiling directly above their heads was collapsing. The noise stopped for a few seconds then grew louder. Cracks of daylight appeared in the ceiling and to her horror she could see some of the large supporting timber falling. A large beam caught her on the chest and sent her crashing backwards onto the stone floor. The timber came to rest across her stomach. The pain made her scream out. All she could think of was the baby.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The present
MATT GRABBED his coat and the keys to his Mini. Michael's unexpected news had come as a shock. Zoé was missing and Salman had found a body on the Mount. "Did Salman say if it's a man or a woman?"
Michael was still out of breath from his run here to collect Father Alban. He shook his head. "He didn't say. All he said was Father Alban had to come quickly."
Matt glanced round at Ken and the priest. "Let's go."
"Don't you think we ought to send for an ambulance?" Ken asked, sounding more than a little indecisive. "I mean, it may be ... " He hesitated.
"You're thinking it may be Zoé," Matt told him. He might as well look on the blackest side. He turned to Father Alban. "Does Salman often say things like
this?"
The French priest shook his head. "Salman has sometimes caused to me much of the heartache, but he would never tell the lies."
"Okay," Matt said, "this is what we do. Ken, you take Father Alban in your car and pick up Salman. I'll phone the emergency services and then drive straight to the Mount. We'll all meet there. There's only one old building, so you can't miss it. I should be there before you."
Ken pointed up at the night sky. "You'll need a light."
Matt pushed Ken out of the door. "I've got a decent hand lantern in the back of my Mini. Just go."
As Ken drove off, Matt made his emergency call. He had to admit that the woman answering it didn't sound particularly convinced there was a problem, but after a bit of argument she agreed to send an ambulance and a police car to the old farmhouse. He hurried out to the Mini and turned the key. The run from the airport had given the battery a good charge. The engine turned over briskly but failed to fire. He turned the key again, and then again. He'd been stupid to let Ken drive off, but at least they were going to the Mount once they'd picked up Salman, and the emergency services were on their way.
He turned the key again. The battery already sounded as though it was failing. Then, just as he was about to give up in despair, the engine fired, but not on all cylinders. Carefully he pressed the pedal down and the engine coughed. Then the revs picked up. Time to let in the clutch.
As he shot off down the street he realized he hadn't turned the lights on. He could imagine being picked up by the police, and trying in vain to explain why he was in a hurry. Fortunately his little indiscretion had gone unobserved. Something seemed to be on his side. Maybe Father Alban's prayers were being answered. Maybe he should try prayer himself. What had Father Alban said? Prayer wasn't a magic wand? It was a way of getting to know God? For the first time since school he pleaded with God to hear him.
Magic wand or not, only one set of lights was red, and he felt confident of being first up the Mount.
The old lane up the side of the Music Academy was closed with a metal farm gate, but it was never locked. He had to stop to open it, which meant that Ken and the others hadn't arrived yet. The surface of the lane was gravel, and over the years grass had grown through it. Ken would think twice about taking his new car up here in the dark, but certainly the police wouldn't turn a hair -- assuming they were coming.
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