Kat Wolfe Investigates

by Lauren St. John

Dr Wolfe stepped out on to the deck and spread her arms wide, as if she were on the prow of a cruise ship sailing forth across the shining ocean.

  ‘So this is how the other half live! And a Jacuzzi too!’

  Kat followed her with a dripping watering can. ‘Told you it was special.’

  ‘Yes, but now I see how spooky it must have been when you were here alone in the fog. No wonder your imagination ran away with you . . . Kat, would it speed things up if I tend to the flowerboxes while you look after the lettuce in the kitchen? Goodness, these are glorious dahlias. I wonder if they’re rare. Ramon must be an enthusiast.’

  Kat surrendered the watering can gratefully. She was turning to go inside when she spotted the telescope. On impulse, she put her eye to the viewfinder. It was immensely powerful. A speck on the horizon was revealed as a fishing trawler. A blurry figure leaned over the side.

  Kat was about to adjust the dial when it occurred to her that if she rotated the telescope until some object or patch of landscape came into sharp focus, she might find the last thing Ramon looked at before he disappeared. If he’d been birdwatching, as he’d claimed, there’d be nothing to see, but it was possible he’d been watching something, or someone, else.

  ‘Kat, would you stop playing with stuff that doesn’t belong to you and tend to the lettuces?’

  ‘Going, Mum.’

  But Kat stayed glued to the telescope. She swung it past sea, beach, town and harbour. Only one thing popped out with crystal clarity – a red warning sign on an iron gate: MILITARY FIRING RANGE. NO ENTRY.

  The coastal path that cut across the range was closed to the public on weekdays, when troops on exercise might be using live ammunition. It opened to the public at weekends, but only between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m.

  Had Kat, Tina and Dr Wolfe walked to Durdle Door on Saturday afternoon as planned, they’d have crossed it. But the picnic had been cancelled because Sergeant Singh had called her mum and all hell had broken loose.

  If the telescope had been trained on the firing-range gate at any time between Monday and Thursday morning, Ramon could only have been watching somebody from the army base coming or going. Who was it?

  Absorbed with the telescope, Kat jumped when her mum’s phone rang. She could tell by her tone it was urgent.

  Dr Wolfe ended the call. ‘Kat, I have to run. That was Monkey World. They have a capuchin emergency.’

  ‘A capuchin emergency?’

  ‘A rescue. Some fiendish family has been keeping the monkey in a bedroom for years. I need to get to the clinic ASAP. Do you want to come with me now or follow when you’re done with the plants?’

  Kat would have loved to be there when the capuchin came in, but she was dealing with a crisis of her own.

  ‘Go ahead, Mum. I won’t be long.’

  Alone in the house, she felt tense. She’d given her mum a brief tour when they’d arrived and was satisfied that no burglars lurked, but she didn’t want to linger. She’d gather what evidence she could and get out.

  She started with Ramon’s study. There were no new messages on the answering machine, so she sifted through the desk drawers. They were suspiciously tidy.

  The only thing of interest was a chequebook in the name of SJ Morgan. On the first day of every month, SJ Morgan made a £500 rental payment to Winterbourne Holdings, Ltd.

  Two things interested Kat: 1) The rent was extremely low for such a magnificent property; and 2) Winterbourne Holdings rang a bell. She searched her memory, but couldn’t think where she’d seen the name.

  Downstairs, she used the control panel to water the wall of lettuces and herbs. As she struggled to rehang the owl picture, the hook came out of the wall. The photo crashed on to the counter top, landing owl down.

  Miraculously, the glass was undamaged, but the plywood board on the back had come loose. Kat struggled to wedge it into its slot. Something was blocking it.

  Further investigation revealed a padded white A3 envelope, stuffed with something thick, soft and heavy.

  IF FOUND, POST TO

  PO BOX Z1

  UNITED KINGDOM

  It was a peculiar address. Kat had never seen another like it.

  She debated whether to put the envelope back where she’d found it or carry it home for safekeeping. Taking the last parcel had been a disaster. Potentially, she’d risked Ramon’s life.

  On the other hand, this envelope clearly stated that the finder should forward it to the given address. What harm would it do if she held on to it for a few days? If Ramon returned, he’d be thankful she’d looked after it. If he didn’t, she could post it. Maybe the contents would help find or save him.

  She put the envelope in her rucksack and propped the owl picture against the wall. Everything was done. She could leave.

  Except that she didn’t. She did what she’d been dying to do for days – tapped Option 13 on the control panel. The password box popped up. Kat typed in Bailey’s birthdate. She held her breath and waited.

  An electronic woman spoke from the control panel: ‘Code Blue Response activated.’

  Kat was unnerved. Did Ramon have a private security firm linked to his alarm system? Were they going to come racing up to Avalon Heights with a truckload of guards and slavering dogs and accuse her of robbing the place? Would Sergeant Singh be hot on their heels?

  She had to get out.

  But as she turned to go, she noticed a khaki-green briefcase lying on a breakfast-bar stool.

  She was positive it hadn’t been there earlier because she’d sat on that exact stool while sending a text to Harper. Yet it was there now.

  Was it possible that it had something to do with the pressing of Option 13? There was a broad panel beneath the breakfast bar. Could it have opened and released the case?

  Kat was crouching to inspect the panel when a shadow loomed in the living-room window. A soldier in combat fatigues was on the deck! He was hunched over, busy with something.

  Kat did the only thing she could think of to scare him away. She dashed to the control panel and selected Option 8a: ‘Maximum Heat’. A towering inferno shot from the barbecue on the deck.

  As a deterrent, it worked well.

  Too well.

  The soldier let out an agonized yell and reeled back, clutching his forehead. He swung towards the window, his granite features scarlet with rage.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he thundered, banging the glass. ‘Identify yourself.’

  It was Colonel Axel Cunningham. Kat had thought him scary before. Now he was murderous.

  She flattened herself against the wall, pulse racing. Had he seen her? Did he have the security code for the front door, or had he climbed on to the deck using the fire escape?

  She had to get away.

  At the same time, she was a veterinary surgeon’s daughter. All her life she’d been taught to aid those in trouble – both animal and human. Her conscience would not allow her to leave an injured man, especially when she was the cause of that injury. If he was burnt, he’d need to run tepid water over the wound for at least twenty minutes.

  She pressed Option 2 and heard the cover of the hot tub slide aside. Peering out cautiously, she saw the colonel was on his knees, face in the bubbles.

  There’d never be a better time to escape.

  Kat grabbed the briefcase and was startled by the weight of it. She almost left it, but the thought that it might fall into the clutches of the colonel convinced her it was worth the effort.

  The breakfast bar and vast sofa provided cover as she crawled to the hall. She risked one last glance through the French doors. The colonel was staggering to his feet, hair and jaw dripping.

  As quietly as she could, she stole out of the house. She couldn’t ever remember being so frightened. If the colonel spotted her from the deck, she might vanish like Ramon.

  As she stood frozen on the doorstep, she heard a familiar miaow. A shrub rustled and out came Tiny. Kat was so astonished she let out a miaow herself.

  ‘What – ? Why �
� ? How – ?’

  Tiny didn’t answer. When she leaned down to try to stroke him, he darted to the cliff path, paused and looked over his shoulder.

  Kat didn’t need to be asked twice. They rushed down the steep steps together. The whole way down, Kat kept expecting the colonel to come pounding after them. He was a powerful man, who might even be armed, but knowing that Tiny was by her side made her feel protected.

  The Savannah cat led her on a twisting route to Summer Street that avoided all human contact.

  As she hopped over picket fences and tiptoed through backyards, Kat couldn’t stop thinking about the Code Blue Response. Had a SWAT team already descended from the sky at Avalon Heights? Had they captured Colonel Cunningham?

  If he was responsible for kidnapping or killing Ramon, why had he returned to the scene of the crime?

  No matter what he’d done, she felt guilty that he might be injured.

  ‘There you are,’ called her mum, emerging from the veterinary practice seconds after Kat had concealed the green briefcase under a bush at number 5. ‘I was about to call you. I thought you might like to see the capuchin. Eva’s been through a lot and she’s sleeping now, but she’s exquisite.’

  Kat felt a rush of relief. Whenever life got her down, she could always count on her mother and animals to make her feel better.

  She tried not to think how her mum would feel if they were run out of town because Kat had set fire to the colonel.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll be right there.’

  23

  Operation Cyclone

  When Kat returned to her room, Tiny was draped across the window-seat like a leopard on a branch. He watched, unblinking, as she buried the white envelope and green briefcase beneath his favourite snoozing sweaters and blankets in the wardrobe. Anyone would think he’d been in the attic room all day, not taking detours to cliff-top mansions to act as Kat’s own feline bodyguard.

  ‘I’m counting on you to keep Ramon’s stuff safe,’ she told him. ‘You have my permission to pounce on anyone who pokes their nose in where it doesn’t belong.’

  His green eyes narrowed, and she paused to wonder again what he’d been doing at Avalon Heights. It was hard to believe that he’d gone all that way on a hunting expedition. The only possible explanation was that he’d followed her there, and why would he do that unless, deep down, he was starting to care just a little?

  Kat’s phone beeped and she swooped on it. There were five missed calls and a text from Harper.

  Where ARE you? Call me urgently!

  Kat rang at once. ‘Sorry, I’ve been at the practice with Bailey and my mum. What’s up?’

  ‘You first. How did it go at Avalon Heights?’

  Kat’s head throbbed. She hardly knew where to begin.

  ‘Epic disaster. I think I may have accidentally-on-purpose chargrilled Colonel Axel Cunningham.’

  ‘Is that all? I thought something really tragic had happened.’

  ‘Harper, it’s not funny. I could be in serious trouble. I also broke the owl picture, found a weird envelope and activated a Code Blue Response by mistake. Don’t ask me what a Code Blue is, but it’s activated. I escaped with a heavy green briefcase that looks like something an army officer would carry.’

  ‘Slow down,’ begged Harper. ‘My brain is melting. I thought you were going to Avalon Heights with your mum – to water the plants.’

  ‘We were watering the plants, but then she had a capuchin emergency—’

  ‘What’s a capuchin?’

  ‘They’re these monkeys that resemble monks in brown robes. They have huge eyebrows.’

  ‘Right. Let’s start from the beginning. You were alone at Avalon Heights and you thought you’d do a bit of barbecuing?’

  ‘I was looking for clues. Option Thirteen was bothering me. I thought it might help if we knew what it was hiding. I cracked the passcode.’

  ‘You did what?’ Harper’s tone was miffed, as if cracking passwords was supposed to be her job. ‘How did you figure it out? The same one might work on Ramon’s computer.’

  ‘I’m not telling you,’ said Kat. ‘I’m in enough of a mess as it is.’

  ‘At least tell me what you found in the green briefcase.’

  ‘I haven’t looked because it isn’t mine.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘Don’t say “Hmm”,’ scolded Kat. ‘If it’s linked to Option Thirteen, who knows what might be in it. It could be stolen cash or even spy stuff. It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to open it.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Harper said sweetly. ‘Let’s hope it’s not a bomb.’

  ‘A bomb?’

  ‘If you hear any ticking, you might want to evacuate your cottage ASAP and take your mum and cat with you. But let’s not worry about that now. Where was the colonel while you were breaking into Option Thirteen?’

  Kat’s focus was on the wardrobe. She tiptoed over to it.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The colonel you tried to incinerate.’

  ‘He was on the deck. He’d climbed up using the fire escape. Harper, I think he’s “Soldier A” on our suspect list – the one who was prowling around the night before Ramon disappeared.’

  Harper was awed. ‘You must have been petrified. I’d have run screaming from the house.’

  ‘It was easier to turn on the barbecue,’ confessed Kat. ‘I thought that would scare him away. How was I to know that “Maximum Heat” would send up a flame that could have launched a rocket to Mars? ’

  ‘Did the colonel see you?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’ Kat pressed her ear to the wardrobe. Was it her imagination, or could she hear ticking? ‘Harper, what am I going to do? If I ring Sergeant Singh and accuse the base commander of breaking and entering, he’ll call my mum. I’ll be grounded for the rest of my life.’

  As she spoke, the falcon face of the Dark Lord came into her head. Wasn’t it ironic that the best person to call for advice on a rogue soldier – her Minister of Defence grandfather – was also the worst person?

  ‘There’s nothing we can do until Ramon either comes home or doesn’t,’ said Harper. ‘Meanwhile, we have a chief suspect.’

  Kat caught sight of the time. She’d promised to help Tina cook dinner. She hoped they wouldn’t be blown to smithereens before they’d eaten. She was starving.

  But she couldn’t go until she had an answer to one burning question.

  ‘Harper, did you discover anything more about the men in Ramon’s old photo? I’m dying to know.’

  ‘Yes, but I ended up with more questions than answers. First, I tried to find out how Evan Ross got his Purple Heart for bravery. Apparently, he was part of a Special Forces unit sent to Afghanistan in 1986. Evan and Tony were also wounded there, and Tony’s twin, Mario Baranello, was killed.’

  ‘Did the website say what went wrong on the mission?’ asked Kat.

  ‘Only that they were ambushed by Soviet troops. Jasper’s going to do some investigating. He says that in the eighties the CIA had a programme code-named Operation Cyclone in Afghanistan. US Special Forces soldiers were involved in helping the mujahideen – they’re Afghan fighters – battle the Russians.’

  Kat’s history wasn’t good at the best of times. She could feel her tired brain shutting down. ‘Not ISIS or the Taliban?’

  ‘No, back then the Americans were battling the Russians.’

  ‘What were the names of the other soldiers on the mission?’ Kat asked. ‘Could any of them be one of the unknown men in Ramon’s photo?’

  ‘Without pictures, it’s hard to be sure. The other soldiers in the unit were Vaughan Carter, Trey Taylor and Scott Javier Morgan. Ramon wasn’t there.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Ramon wasn’t there.’

  ‘No, before.’

  ‘The other soldiers were Vaughan Carter, Trey Taylor and Scott Javier Morgan.’

  The phone was clammy in Kat’s hand. ‘At Ramon’s house, I found a chequebook. Every month, som
eone called SJ Morgan pays rent to Winterbourne Holdings, whatever that is—’

  There was a sharp intake of breath. ‘Kat, Captain Morgan is gone.’

  ‘What do you mean? Gone how?’

  ‘He was the only other soldier I could find any information on. He went by Javier. It’s pronounced Havier, but in Spanish it’s spelled with a J. It’s an unusual mix of names and probably means he’s half American, half Spanish – like me. He died in a car crash just over two years ago. But that’s not all.’

  ‘It’s not?’

  Kat wasn’t sure how much more she could cope with in one day.

  ‘I spent ages trying to find information on your friend Ramon,’ Harper went on. ‘There’s nothing on him in any official records in Paraguay or the US. Kat, he doesn’t exist.’

  Kat didn’t reply because something extraordinary had happened. Tiny had sprung up on to the bed. He curled up against Kat’s hip as if it was something he did every day.

  Carefully at first and then with more confidence, Kat stroked his silky spotted fur. His purrs travelled up her arm and vibrated in her chest. Her imaginary kitten had come to life as a lynx-sized Savannah, and it was the most comforting thing in the world.

  ‘Hello? Hi, Kat – are you still there?’ Harper’s voice echoed down the line. ‘Either Ramon is a criminal who stole Javier’s identity, or he is Javier Morgan and faked his own death to escape someone or something. Do you think it’s possible that Colonel Cunningham discovered his secret and was blackmailing him?’

  ‘I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way round,’ said Kat. ‘What if it’s not Ramon who needs saving. What if other people need saving from him? What if he’s Arch Villain Number One?’

  24

  Double Trouble

  The prime minister bit a prawn off a toothpick, swallowed it whole and said, ‘Peculiar business, this Oxford Street Phantom affair, don’t you think?’

  Lord Hamilton-Crosse gave a non-committal murmur.

  Once, he’d relished hosting these glittering parties. Now, he whiled away the hours dreaming about escaping to the Faroe Islands, where he’d spend the rest of his days photographing puffins.