He felt hot and then cold and his throat was dry. He went back up to the kitchen. He peeked through the window. About twenty people were sitting at tables in the courtyard and he could smell smoke and grilled sausages and lamb. He was starving. Someone switched on some music and he could hear an old Focus track. Hocus Pocus. He turned on the tap at the kitchen sink and it worked and he drank and splashed water on his face.
He went back downstairs and looked at the frame. There was one horizontal joint that looked promising. He kicked at it and he felt the recoil and it hurt his foot. The wood was maybe three inches square and it was solid. He set the phone on the floor. He took a run-up and lifted his foot against it and smashed into it and he felt it give. He did it again and again and his foot was killing him so he changed feet and he tried again but he wasn’t as accurate with his left foot, so he went back to his right and charged and the metal joint attached to the right upright splintered and came apart and the beam fell loose. He grabbed it and heaved and pushed it to one side and he squeezed through the gap and he stood between the frame and the metal door.
He caught his breath and looked at the door. He saw a rat peeking through a gap between the door and the stone upright to the right. The hinges were to the left. He went back and got the phone and crawled through the frame again and looked through the gap, maybe half an inch, between the door and the stone. He saw the lock. And the metal tongue from the lock going into the wall. He smelt the feral smell again.
He went back into the room and looked at the bed and he thought, what the fuck, and he heaved the bed upright and let it fall to the floor with a crash and then did it again. The noise was deafening. After the fourth time he saw that the short sides and the long sides were bent at a bit of angle so he lifted it up again and slammed it down again, and the angle was bigger. He bent down and felt a sharp twinge in his back and he heard his neck crack and he pushed the bed up again and hurled it into the wall and he heard a metallic sound as the central metal strut fell free. He felt among the springs and splintered wood and found the metal bar and pulled it out. He went back through the gap in the frame and stood before the metal door and jammed the metal bar into the space between the door and the stone and counted to three. And then he leant into it with all the strength he had left and the latch broke and the door swung open.
It swung open only about a foot… it was jammed against the frame. He picked up the phone and saw he was down to 17% and he squeezed through the gap and he was in a low tunnel. It was about four feet across and six feet high and it stretched out to either side, curving away… There was maybe a foot of water in a narrow gulley in the middle and a low brick-paved ledge about two feet wide on either side of it. He flashed the phone left and right and saw rats off to his right. A dozen rats… He walked along the ledge towards the rats and thought he heard something behind him, a voice maybe, but he kept going…
Everything went black. He shook the phone and the light came back on and he looked up ahead and he saw something. He ran on and banged his head against something hard and felt like he was going to fall but he steadied himself and stumbled forward.
The tunnel curved suddenly to the right and he saw her.
She was lying on the brick ledge. She was laid out like a corpse. She was wearing blue jeans and a green blouse and her skin was white. He stepped forward and a rat jumped up and he dropped the phone and it fell into the water and he reached down and picked it up and he heard voices and someone shouting.
He knelt down beside the body and flashed the light over her and felt for a pulse and he felt nothing. He looked at her face and felt tears running down his cheeks and he leaned forward and opened her eyelids and her eyes were green and they didn’t move. He felt for breath from her nose and her mouth and he felt light from a torch flash across his face and he heard more shouting and then something moved… the sleeve of her blouse moved… and a rat ran out from the sleeve and he heard it dive into the water and he saw a trickle of blood run down her arm…
He felt the cold creep upon him like on the moors when he had almost died all those years ago and he lay down next to Sarah on the cold bricks and he held her cold body next to his and he saw nothing but cold blackness.
Chapter 47
Tuesday April 30th 2013 – Koninginnedag
He watched three men wheel the gurney towards an ambulance. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a tight grip, fingers digging into his skin, as a policeman held him back, the look in his eyes betraying a depth of concern that Paul saw but didn’t register.
He had been screaming. The policeman looked at the scratches and bruises on his cheeks and chin and at the blood on his neck and forehead and hands. He saw the expression of exhaustion and sheer distress on Paul’s face and he tried to imagine what this crazy Englishman was doing here. And what he had done.
“Sir? Sir? Are you ok?”
Paul watched the stretcher being lifted up and clicked into place and slid along rails into the ambulance. It seemed to be happening in slow motion.
“It’s over”, he said. “It’s all over.”
He heard the bells from Westerkerk ringing out. Honouring the advent of the heir to the throne.
It was midnight.
Anne Frank had heard the same bells and found them to be a source of comfort. Anne Frank, who had stayed hidden behind a book-case.
The bells rang on.
To Paul they sounded like a death knell.
In the church where Princess Beatrix had married her prince in 1966, they were celebrating her passing.
The Princess had gone.
The Queen was no more.
Long live the King.
Chapter 48
Paul spent a week in hospital in Amsterdam. He had a hair-line skull fracture and his head and neck were locked in a brace for four days. He was told not to do anything strenuous for the next few weeks and to consult his own doctor at least every three days. The headaches would continue, but he should be back to normal within a month or so if all went well.
When he finally got back to Halifax he drove up to the Cottage and got out of the car and stared at the house for a long time, wondering what he was going to do with it. He looked over at the Castle and tried to imagine what its future might be. There had been a lot of speculation in the press. Perhaps the futures of the Castle and the Cottage were connected in some way, but he wasn’t sure how.
He decided to finish what he’d started. He couldn’t do any physical work himself, so he spent some of the money he’d inherited, the blood money, and brought some men in to put in a new kitchen and bathroom and paint the place. And he asked Mr Fuller to do something with the back garden. He drafted in a couple of nephews and they cleared everything away and laid out a vegetable garden in one half and a few flower beds in the other, with a new garden shed where the old one had stood.
Three weeks after he’d returned from Amsterdam he was planting some petunias in front of the Cottage when Dave Middleton showed up one evening carrying a six pack of Guinness.
“Will these go down well with your meds?”, he said as Paul let him in.
“Who cares? Guinness is good for you, that’s what the old ads used to say.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Ok, considering.”
“You’ve lost weight.”
“You haven’t.”
“It’s probably a sympathetic pregnancy. Cath’s like a whale.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
They sat in the back garden and Dave told Paul what had been happening. He knew some of it already, but not all the details.
Morgan and Kristel Dekker had been arrested at the Bunga Raya Resort and Spa near a place called Kota Kinabalu, two days after Sarah’s body had been found.
Bank accounts had been blocked and there were investigations into the sale of artworks and coin collections, antique furniture and jewellery.
They had been interviewed by Malaysian police as extradition procedures were b
eing drawn up. For some reason the interviews had been in Dutch and then translated into Malaysian and then into English.
Dave showed Paul a summary of their accounts.
“My name is Kristel Dekker. I am 31 years old. I first met Neil Morgan when I was working at the Holland Casino in Amsterdam. We became friends and then lovers.
Two years ago I saw a photograph in a magazine of a woman who looked just like me. I showed it to Neil and he agreed that we were identical. The woman’s name was Sarah Hartley and she was from New York.
Since the age of 8 I have known that I was adopted, and I asked my mother, not my real mother, about the circumstances of my birth and who my real parents were. She wouldn’t tell me. I insisted and eventually she told me that her sister Rosa had organised the adoption, but that the situation was complicated and it would be best if I didn’t pursue it. But I wanted to know the truth. I went to see my aunt Rosa, who lives in France, and after a long discussion, she told me that my official parents were two English people, Mr and Mrs Hartley, and that I had a twin sister called Sarah, who lived with them.
I told Neil about this and he said he would try to find out some more information. He works in England a lot. A few months later, he came back from a trip to England and said that he had met Mr Hartley and his daughter, too, and that he was sure we were twins, the likeness was uncanny and we were identical. The Hartley’s were very rich, he said.
Neil began to spend more time in England. I have never been to England myself. I knew he was seeing my twin sister more and more. One day he said he had a plan, and that we could both be very rich. I didn’t like the idea, but he said if I didn’t want to help him then he could just stay in England and perhaps marry my sister instead of me. I was in love with him. So I agreed to help him. I wish I hadn’t.
When the time came, he gave me the information I needed and I went to Austria. At a certain time I went to Innsbruck station. I was wearing a black wig and I had some things with me. I went to the Orient Express and to the carriage he’d told me was theirs. I looked for my sister and when I saw her I got on the train and took off my wig and spoke to her. She nearly fainted. I told her I was her twin sister and she was in shock. Then I told her the story we had made up. I said that Neil Morgan was going to kill her and that she had to come with me. She didn’t believe me. Then I played a tape of Neil’s voice. He said: “And when she’s dead we can share the 45 million pounds, my darling.” Sarah looked even more shocked than before. I told her he was planning to kill her in Venice and that she should come quickly or it would be too late. I said, “You have nothing to lose. Come now, and we can learn more about what’s happening, and if you don’t believe me then you can go back. But you must decide now.”
She listened to the tape again and then said she would come. I gave her a gray wig and a long coat and I put a hat on and we went onto the platform where I had a wheelchair waiting for Sarah to get into. A long line of luggage trolleys came past and we hid behind that and sneaked out of the station.
We drove all the way back to Amsterdam. Sarah was still very shocked and I was in shock too. It was unbelievable, seeing my twin sister. We talked a lot, about our childhoods and our lives and it turned out that we had a lot in common. There were strange coincidences, and I have heard that this happens quite a lot with twins, even when they are separated.
Neil had told me to kill her, but I couldn’t.
We became very close, just during the drive back to Amsterdam. I wanted to stall for time, I had to think about what to do. I told Sarah that there was a police investigation into Neil Morgan, but that he was on the run. It would be better if we stayed hidden. She didn’t seem very convinced but I played more tape recordings to her that Neil had made and I could tell she was having serious doubts about him. She asked me how I had got hold of the tapes and I admitted to her that I had been Neil’s girlfriend, and part of the plot, but that now I was on her side.
We talked more and more and we cried a bit together. She told me about a friend she had and how she felt she had two lives. One before and one after the friend. I told her I felt I had two lives too. One before I knew I had a sister, and the other now.
I was communicating with Neil by a coded throw-away phone and kept saying I couldn’t kill her. After a few days, when it was getting more and more difficult to convince Sarah not to go out or use her phone, I heard from Neil. He said I should be ready to leave, and that he would come and pick me up.
When he arrived, I went out to the car and he went into the house to talk to Sarah. But when he came back, I knew he had killed her. He had blood on him. He said that he had disposed of the body but that if it was ever found, there would be evidence against me on it and so I had to do exactly as he said. He was blackmailing me. Then I went to Innsbruck again and followed his orders and he went somewhere else before flying to Venice. We met there and I had to continue playing his game. I was very scared, but I had no choice.
I realise now how much he used me and forced me to do things I didn’t want to. I felt very close to my sister and didn’t want to hurt her. If I can provide any more information or evidence against Neil Morgan then I certainly want to help.”
“My name is Neil Morgan. I am 37 years old. I first met Kristel Dekker when she was working at the Holland Casino in Amsterdam. She was very beautiful, and I fell madly in love with her. About two years ago, Kristel showed me a photograph from a society magazine, it was a photo of a woman called Sarah Hartley, taken in New York. She seemed fascinated, as the woman resembled her a great deal. I reassured her, saying that she was much more beautiful than the American woman. But Kristel seemed to be obsessed by the woman, and convinced that she was her twin sister. She told me that she had been adopted as a baby, and that she was determined to discover the circumstances of her birth and of the adoption.
Shortly afterwards, she informed me that her mother had told her about her sister, Kristel’s aunt, who lived in southern France, and who had organised the adoption. Kristel went to see her. When she returned, she gave me the outline of the story, telling me she had broken into the local town hall and discovered the birth records for herself, and for another girl, the daughter of a Mr and Mrs Hartley, from Halifax in Yorkshire. She also said her aunt had disclosed that they were, indeed, twin sisters.
Kristel was quite distressed. She discovered that the Hartleys were extremely rich, whereas her own family had always been poor. She developed a bitter, twisted hatred for her own sister, crazed with jealousy and envy. She said that her sister had everything, and had been loved and cherished by her parents, while they had abandoned her to a life of nothing, with no concern for her well-being. They didn’t care if she lived or died.
It was all quite astonishing, and the degree of her obsession became quite worrying. The crunch came when she told me of a plan she had conceived, to reclaim her rights as the daughter of the wealthy Mr Hartley. I was shocked, and refused to have anything to do with her frightful scheme. But then she revealed that she knew about my gambling debts, quite a sizeable amount, and that she knew I had been taking money from my company to pay them off. I was horrified. If such appalling information were revealed, my whole career and the company I had worked so hard to create and develop, would be in ruins. My hands were tied. I was deeply saddened to see the woman I loved descend into such a state of insanity, stooping to blackmail and threats, all to satisfy her own greed and a desire for some form of vengeance.
I agreed to travel to England and to attempt to meet the Hartleys.
What happened next was something of a miracle. I met Greville and then his daughter, Sarah, and before we knew it, we fell in love. I decided to break off my relationship with Kristel, but she had other plans. She went to England and she killed Greville Hartley. She admitted it to me, and threatened to kill me and Sarah if I didn’t continue with our original plan. I was utterly bewildered and terrified. I didn’t know what to do. My relationship with Sarah developed and I was deeply troubled. I att
empted to buy off Kristel with what little money I had left, but without success. The next thing I knew, was when Sarah and I were on our honeymoon, and my wife went missing. I was beside myself with grief, but I suspected that Kristel was somehow involved. And yet I could say nothing, I was so scared.
A few days later, Kristel contacted me and told me to come to Amsterdam, which I did, most unwillingly, and dreading the worst. When I reached the place she was living, she came out and got in the car, and told me that Sarah was dead, and that she had planted evidence on the body; my hair, some of my blood she had somehow obtained… and that if I didn’t do as she said then she would reveal everything to the police. I was stunned. I was petrified. I didn’t know what to do. She had killed the woman I had come to love, my wife, and was prepared to accuse me of her murder. I had to obey.
She then went to Austria, and I returned to England and then flew to Venice.
I am deeply ashamed and I feel that I merit the grief and suffering that has befallen me. I did not have the strength to stand up to her threats. I should have exposed her for the deceitful, murderous madwoman she is. If I can help in any way for due punishment to be meted out to her, then I am more than willing to sacrifice all I have left, and more, to see justice prevail.”
“What do you reckon?”, Dave said.
“They’re blaming each other.”
“They’re pathetic. Comical. Like kids saying ‘he started it’. I mean, we have to take the double translation into mind, but still, their stories are pretty weak, even if there’s a degree of truth on both sides.”
“What hard evidence is there?”
“Don’t worry. They haven’t got a leg to stand on.”
Dave handed Paul another sheet of paper.
The King's Shilling Page 26
