by David Adkins
She let out a shaky breath. “I understand.”
“Good. Listen, I must go now, so be careful and I will see you at the George Inn tomorrow evening.”
“You look after yourself too, Steve.”
I ascended the stairs painfully and returned to my room feeling happier now I felt Cassie would soon be safe and was aware of possible danger. An hour later I went down to dinner and Jenna was waiting for me and so was the waiter. We ordered our food and drinks and waited for him to write the order on his pad and leave us.
“They know about me,” she said frowning.
“How?” I asked.
“I questioned the barman and he said someone had been here from the base asking about you. He told them that you were accompanied by a beautiful young woman.”
“He told them that?”
“Well, most of it. I just added the word beautiful,” she smirked.
“How did you get on in the compound?” I asked.
“I explored for a bit. I am reasonably convinced that Deepdale is on the site. There is a large, locked warehouse and some more upmarket portable homes nearby. I think he is probably now living in one of them.”
“He is certainly in the base,” I added.
“How can you be so sure?”
“They have agreed to let me speak with him tomorrow morning at 10am.”
She looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t expect that, though they could simply present you with an imposter.”
“Why would they do that?”
“They probably won’t.” She pushed her chair back. “I won’t be a minute.” She jumped up and quickly climbed the stairs to her room as I watched in surprise. A few minutes later she came back clutching something in her right hand. She placed the photograph on the table in front of me. “This is Clive Deepdale.”
I looked at the photograph. It was a full length picture of a frail man in his forties. In the photograph he was slim and appeared short. He was wearing a brown suit and a red tie. He had short fair hair and quite long sideburns. In fact he looked very ordinary. “To think he died when he was just one year old,” I muttered.
“What are you talking about?”
I looked at her. “Clive Deepdale was born in 1908 and died in 1910.”
“Not this Clive Deepdale, I want you to see if the man they introduce you to tomorrow is the man in the photo. It’ll help to know who I’m actually dealing with here.”
“So you need me to stay after all.”
“Just do that for me, without the smugness please.”
I simply grinned in response.
“Do you need the photo?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I will remember what he looks like.”
“After you’re done on the base, I want you to return home tomorrow afternoon and please, I don’t want you to argue with me on this.”
“Will you choke me to death again if I do argue?”
“Not unless you want me to,” she replied mischievously.
I laughed. “I will not argue with you. I need to return to London to set up the defence for Max Lucas. With the court case in just two weeks they have given me little time.” I did not mention that I was desperate to get back to London due to my concern over Cassie Mitchell.
“That was intentional,” she mused.
“I am sure it was. I am also sure there is much you are not telling me,” I said with a hard stare.
“Steve, this is not your world. Go back to London tomorrow afternoon and build the case that will save an innocent man from the gallows.” She clicked her tongue. “Look at you. You have a bruise on your face and, no doubt, sore ribs and I would not wish to see you get hurt even more or to put yourself in further danger.”
“You are in danger though,” I added.
She shrugged. “I will be fine. Are you in pain?” she inquired.
I smiled. “I have taken a beating one way or another today but I am fine.”
“Good.” She seemed genuinely relieved.
I made one last effort to regain some control over this case. “Give me a phone number where I can contact you. I need to be able to check that you are safe after I have left.”
“There is no need.”
“There is every need.”
She turned the photograph of Deepdale over and wrote a number on the back. “Keep the photograph. I will probably be staying at the Inn for a few days but after that you can contact me on this number.”
I took it and studied her. “I still do not trust you,” I smiled. “Is this really your number? I would not put it past you to fob me off with a made up number.”
She looked hurt and then laughed ruefully. “That is something I might do but this is a bona fide number for the coming week or two only. I give you my word on that because I owe you that much but that is as much as I can give you. When it is all over I might even explain everything to you. Did you enjoy your meal?”
“I did. Did you?”
She smiled. “Yes I did. Good night, Steve. I‘ll see you in the morning.”
Once again I watched as the mysterious lady ascended the staircase. She had forgotten to give my neck a massage but I decided not to remind her. I then looked at the photo. “Who are you?” I asked the slight man in the photograph but he did not answer. Tomorrow I might find out, though I considered it unlikely. If he could give me any information about Nesterman or anything that could help me save Lucas it would be a bonus.
Chapter 8
Monday 19th February
Jenna was at the bar when I came down for breakfast and I pulled up a stool and joined her. “I have checked you out of your room and I have booked my room for a few more days,” she informed me.
“Then I owe you some money.”
“You owe me nothing,” she said. “I have ordered some tea and toast for breakfast.”
“Excellent, how did you know I was coming down?”
“I know everything,” she teased. “Actually I heard you moving about and knew you must be nearly ready.”
The tea and toast arrived and we ate it at the bar. “You go to the base, Steve and speak with Deepdale and I will wait for you here. When you get back you can tell me what he said and whether it was Deepdale you were speaking to. Then you can leave and forget about Tintree.”
I nodded and smiled. “Are you a secret agent?”
“I could be,” she smiled back.
I shook my head. “Ever the lady of mystery.”
“An aura of mystery is a good thing for a lady to possess don’t you think?” she commented.
I took a last mouthful of toast and a final sip of tea. “Maybe.” I glanced at the clock. “It’s 9.30, so I had better be on my way.”
She nodded and I slipped off my stool and exited the inn looking up and down and acting like a spy myself. Once again I was on the lonely path which crossed the rolling fields and led to the Tintree Military base. It was a route I had become familiar with but this time I hoped that I could avoid the unpleasantries and pain of my last visit.
I arrived at the gate and announced that I had an appointment to see Captain Steele and Clive Deepdale. I left out the name Smith for I had no wish to see him again. I was disappointed because it was Smith who came to collect me.
His first words were said in a sneering tone. “I hope your jaw and ribs are not too painful this morning, Coulson.”
“I will live.”
“Follow me. Mr Deepdale is waiting for you.”
“Have you decided yet who is in charge at the base? I think Captain outranks Mister,” I goaded him.
“Only in some quarters, now after you,” he said indicating I should enter the large hut we had just reached. I stepped inside and walked down the corridor. I entered the same room as before and Deepdale was already seated and waiting for me. Smith followed me into the room and showed no sign of leaving.
“I would like to speak with Mr Deepdale alone,” I informed him.
Smith shrugged. “We have nothing to
hide. Is that alright with you, Clive?”
Deepdale nodded and I sat down opposite him. I did not speak but studied him closely. He was certainly the man in Jenna’s photograph. Smith, after dwelling in the doorway for a few minutes, eventually closed the door behind him.
A few more seconds passed. “Was there something you wish to discuss with me, Mr Coulson?” There was a condescending tone about the question and I took an immediate dislike to the man.
“I wondered if you would answer a few questions with regard to a coming court case.”
“If I can,” he responded.
“Thank you Mr Deepdale. Did you know a man named Rupert Nesterman?”
He pretended to consider for a moment. “Yes, he was a neighbour at my former apartment in Russell Square in London.”
“Wasn’t he more than just a neighbour?”
“I have no idea what you are implying, Mr Coulson. He lived on the floor above me and seemed a private person as I am.”
“I believe Nesterman was your friend and colleague, Mr Deepdale.”
“Then I am afraid you are wrong. I hardly knew the man,” he sneered.
“Did he not come here to Tintree with you on many occasions?”
“No, you are once again mistaken. He never came to Tintree. You can ask the commander on the base.”
He knew I already had. “The local publican would disagree with the commander on the base. What do you do at here?”
“I do important work but I cannot tell you the nature of my work for I am bound by the Official Secrets Act,” he smiled.
He was slightly getting under my skin because of the dismissive manner in which he was handling my questions. “We both know that you and Nesterman were close buddies.”
He shook his head contemptuously. “I have already answered that question.”
“Do you know that Rupert Nesterman was murdered?”
“Of course I know, but I was here at Tintree when it happened, which was fortunate for me because I do not like violence.”
I smiled. “Really. Did you return to Russell Square after it had happened?”
“No, as a Londoner I enjoy living in London but my workload at Tintree was increasing heavily and with the murder happening just above my apartment it unsettled me. I decided to temporarily stay here at Tintree close to my work.”
“Did the police question you about the murder?”
“They paid me a routine visit but as I barely knew Nesterman and as I was here when it happened which could be verified by many people on the base they did not bother me any further. Why are you bothering me, Mr Coulson?”
“I am representing the accused and gathering in as much information about Rupert Nesterman as I can.”
He smiled, knowingly. “In that case I think we both know I cannot help you.”
I was getting nowhere. He was lying and it was obvious he would continue lying and so I changed tack. “You say you are a Londoner but you have a slight accent.”
“Though I was born in London my parents were from Denmark. They came to London at the turn of the century and in my home the language spoken was Danish.”
The explanation did not ring true. “When and where in London were you born?”
“I was born in Stoke Newington in 1908.”
“What day were you born?”
I could see that my questions about his birth had rattled his composure slightly but he hid it well. “I was born on the 20th December 1908. I really do not see the point of these questions.”
“So you were almost a Christmas baby,” I smiled. “I was just curious Mr Deepdale.”
“I guess I was. Have we finished Mr Coulson for I am a busy man?”
“I am sorry I forgot about your heavy work load. Yes I think we have finished.” I did not thank him for his time or offer him my hand. I did not like the man and his answers to my questions were littered with lies. I walked out of the room and Smith was waiting for me.
“I hope you had a good chat,” he grinned.
I got the impression that he had somehow heard every word. “A very good chat,” I replied.
“I have indulged you so now I trust you will forget about Clive Deepdale and discontinue the investigations at once.”
“I will,” I lied.
“That is very sensible, Mr Coulson. Private Beesley here will show you off the premises.”
I followed the private to the gate and then I made my way back down the country lane towards the village of Tintree. It seemed to me that my conversation with Deepdale had been a waste of time. Jenna was waiting for me in the lounge warming her hands at a roaring fire. I sat down next to her on the comfy sofa. “How did it go?” she asked.
“Deepdale gave nothing away and did not really answer any of my questions truthfully.”
“I expected nothing else. Did you speak to the man in the photograph?”
“Undoubtedly,” I replied.
“Excellent, I now know with absolute certainty that Deepdale is on the base.”
“What will you do?” I asked not expecting a reply.
“It is best for your own peace of mind that you forget Deepdale. Here is a photograph of Nesterman.” She handed me a similar photograph to the one of Deepdale. The picture was likewise of a man in a suit wearing a tie, except that Nesterman was tall and dark. “It may help you when you visit the Food Basket restaurant.”
I took the photograph and put it in my pocket alongside the one of Deepdale. “I have to go. There is much to do on the Lucas case. Here is your ticket back to London, Jenna.” I did not mention my eagerness to see Cassie and to make sure she was safe.
She nodded and took the ticket from me. “You should now be safe but be careful just the same.” She leaned across and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you for your help, Steve.”
“I will quickly pack my things and then I will see you before I go. I should only be ten minutes.” I looked at my watch and figured that I should be at the George Inn in Lewisham by about 6 pm.
She nodded and I ascended the staircase to my room. I quickly threw everything into my case and went back down the stairs. I was surprised that Jenna was not waiting for me. I went over to the barman. “Where is the young lady?”
“She left after you went back to your room.”
“You mean she has checked out?”
“No, she just left the Inn and walked into the village.” I assumed she was bound for the military base and had decided against any further goodbyes.
“Thank you, could you ring for a taxi to take me to Leamington Station,” I said.
“Certainly, I hope you had a good stay, sir.”
“I did, thank you.” I walked over to a seat by the lounge window, sat down, and planted my bag on the chair next to me, in order to wait for the taxi.
“It is on the way,” the barman called out. I had wanted to speak with Jenna once more before I left for I was worried about her and what she might be going to do. However, she had reminded me many times that she was a professional and I was not. I knew full well Jenna was well able to look after herself. I wondered if I would ever find out the full extent of the secrets surrounding Nesterman and Deepdale but my job now was to save an innocent man.
I watched as an army truck pulled up opposite the inn and a man stepped out of the vehicle and entered the village shop. I had not recognized the man who was not in army uniform but then I saw a face looking out of the window of the truck and I gasped, as the visage without doubt belonged to Clive Deepdale. I was spellbound because I was certain that Jenna must have headed for the military base to confront Deepdale in some way. She was probably even now at the base not realizing that Deepdale had left. The man emerged from the shop and got back into the vehicle but just as it was driving off on the Leamington Road my taxi arrived.
I dashed out of the hotel but in my hurry I dropped my bag spilling the contents on the ground. I quickly gathered them up and jumped into the taxi but the army vehicle by then was long gone. “Leaming
ton Station, is it sir?”
“Yes please, Leamington Station,” I replied. I decided to ring the inn when I reached Leamington Station and leave a message for Jenna. She needed to know that Deepdale was no longer at the base.
I settled back for the short ride to Leamington station. The taxi pulled up at the entrance to the station but I had already noticed the army truck parked in the station car park. The uniformed driver was leaning against the vehicle having a smoke. I realized he must have dropped Deepdale and the other man at the station. I quickly paid the driver and entered the station and I looked around me searching for Deepdale but at first I could not see him. Then I saw him emerging from the ticket office alongside the man in plain clothes who had gone into the village stores. I stepped behind a pillar making sure he did not see me. They marched towards the platform and the train to London St Marylebone and I followed at a discreet distance. They entered the door to the first carriage and I watched as they made their way down the carriage. I then entered the same door and followed them.
They soon found a place to sit at the end of the carriage. I stopped and I also sat down hugging my bag with my face lowered behind it. I was far enough away from them not to be seen by Deepdale and I knew that when they stood up to get off the train I would be able see them and still stay hidden behind my bag.
*
I followed them off the train, still keeping a discreet distance behind them. They walked to the line of taxis at the taxi ramp and boarded one of them. Covering my face as best I could I jumped into a taxi behind them.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked politely.
“See that taxi pulling out. Could you follow it please?”
The driver smiled. “I have seen it on the films but I never thought any client would ever say that to me in real life. You really want me to follow that cab.”
“Yes and please don’t lose it.”
“I won’t.” He seemed to relish this once in a lifetime challenge.
Coming out of the rear of the station we turned right into Gloucester Place and continued until we crossed Oxford Street. We were then heading south on Park Street until we turned into Grosvenor Street. Next we were traversing Berkeley Square and I was wondering what our final destination could be. I had only a few more minutes to wait because Deepdale’s taxi had pulled up outside the Mayfair Hotel. We pulled up just behind it.
