Angel of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  That all made sense, but how had he figured out that she might be here? That was a question which would have to be answered later, but obviously he was here to try to prevent her getting to Fahri, either by warning him or by placing him under MI6 protection. Which would really have buggered things if she hadn’t already completed the job.

  But right now, her aim had to be to get out of the house, unseen, regain the Bahamas, and deny that she had ever left.

  ‘I am sorry, sir,’ the butler was saying, ‘Mr Fahri is entertaining, and cannot be disturbed.’

  ‘He can, you know,’ Clive said. ‘Do you know what this is?’

  Anna did not dare look over the balustrade, but gathered from the sudden silence that he was presenting either a warrant or a badge.

  ‘You are from the Secret Service?’

  ‘That is correct. And it is vitally important that we see Sheikh el Fahri, now.’

  ‘I will have to ask Mr Khouri, the sheikh’s private secretary. If you will excuse me.’

  Anna listened to a clicking noise, and understood that he was using a house telephone.

  A few moments later he said, ‘Mr Khouri does not appear to be in his room.’

  ‘Won’t he be with the sheikh, helping to entertain the guests?’

  ‘That is unlikely, sir. Sheikh el Fahri is dining tête-à-tête.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Clive exclaimed.

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Would his guest be a young lady?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘With long golden hair?’

  ‘Why, yes, sir. Do you know the lady?’

  Shit! thought Anna, for the umpteenth time.

  ‘I know who she is,’ Clive said. ‘Now, you listen to me. I have got to see Sheikh el Fahri, now. There is no time for you to locate Mr Khouri. Take me to the sheikh.’

  ‘Well, sir . . .’

  ‘I said, now! Or I will have my men tear this house apart.’

  Another brief silence, then the butler said, ‘If you will come with me, sir.’

  Anna realized that they were about to mount the stairs, and as they would certainly come up to this floor, there was no way she could remain on the gallery without being seen. To return to the dining room was out, as that was where they would be going. But there remained the study. She ran to this, and waited, standing against the door in the faint hope that, not finding either Fahri or her in the dining room, Clive might go away again. But she knew the hope was faint; if he had been given a job to do, he would do it. And sure enough, a few moments later she heard voices in the lobby.

  ‘I really do not think, sir, that we can go up,’ the butler was saying. ‘The top floor is reserved exclusively for the use of Sheikh el Fahri. And when he is entertaining, only Mr Khouri is permitted.’

  ‘You mean they share the guest?’ Clive’s words were like drops of vitriol.

  ‘Well . . . sir!’

  ‘I’ll take responsibility,’ Clive said, obviously starting up the steps. The carpet continued to deaden sound, but she was certain that there was at least one other man with him.

  It was time to move. She reckoned she had about five minutes before all hell broke loose. Cautiously she opened the door on to the gallery. This was now deserted, so she advanced to the balustrade and looked down. There were two bodyguards standing together and muttering. She had no doubt that she could deal with them in short order. But waiting by the front door was another man, and she could have no doubt he was MI6. She knew that she could handle him as well, but it might mean having to kill him; and this she was not prepared to do.

  At the end of the gallery there was a window. That was certainly a way out, but it would mean abandoning her coat and probably risking frostbite, not to mention possible injury getting down; she reckoned she would be dropping from about twenty-five feet. But if there was a window at the end of this gallery, there would surely be one on the lower level as well. She listened to a crashing sound from above her; they were breaking down the bedroom door. That cut her time to about three minutes. She returned to the gallery and looked down. The men were engaged in animated conversation. She took off her shoes, drew a deep breath, and went down the stairs. Still they did not look up. But as she gained the lower gallery, there was a shout from upstairs. Now she had only a few moments. She ran along the gallery to the window, opened it, and was greeted by an icy blast, while from downstairs there were shouts of alarm: the men had at last seen her. She dropped the Browning and her shoes, tucked her purse into her dress, wishing there was more of it, then clambered out and looked down, but could see nothing in the darkness. Now noise was spreading throughout the house, and there were heavy thumps as the men on the ground floor came up after her.

  She turned, hung by her hands, and then dropped, doing a break-fall as soon as she struck. But she had landed in some bushes, which both broke the impact and prevented her from rolling very far. Panting, she extricated herself, and then had to look for her shoes. She located these easily enough, but could not find the gun; so she decided to abandon it, aware of a series of sharp pains running up and down her body, although she did not appear to have broken anything.

  The men above her had reached the window. But as they did so, she heard a succession of thuds. Apparently, having decided that she still had to be inside, someone had pressed the panic button and all the doors and the shutters had dropped into place; the house was suddenly entirely dark. Which, she realized, could be a stroke of much-needed luck; she was gaining valuable time.

  But the respite could only be temporary. And she was still inside the grounds, and freezing cold. Now, as she crawled out of the bushes, she heard guttural growls, and two dark shapes came bounding towards her. She stood up, thrust her hand inside her gown, and drew her pistol. The dogs raced up to her, and she said, ‘Listen, you! Shut up and go away. Or die!’

  Taken aback by the fact that there was no fear in her voice or to be smelt on her sweat, only total menace, they stopped, panting. As they did so, a voice called, out of the darkness, ‘Bruno? Balthazar? What have you found?’

  Anna walked towards the man, the dogs escorting her, one on either side, but keeping their distance. And now she could make out the uniform. ‘You,’ she said, ‘are just the man I wanted to see.’

  He peered at her, but there was no mistaking the hair, even if it was somewhat tangled and had leaves sticking out of it. ‘You!’ he exclaimed. ‘But you . . .’

  ‘I’m Sheikh el Fahri’s dinner guest, remember.’

  ‘But . . .’

  He looked her up and down.

  ‘I know,’ she agreed. ‘I’m a little untidy. But that’s your boss for you: a bundle of fun.’

  ‘The dogs . . .’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Anna assured him, ‘I haven’t harmed them.’

  ‘You have not harmed them?’

  ‘They are my friends. Come along now, I haven’t got all night. And it’s bloody cold.’

  She gestured towards the garage, and he noticed the pistol for the first time. ‘You . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And I will use it if you do not do exactly as I say.’

  He stumbled beside her to the garage. In it there were three cars, but Anna chose the Daimler in which she had arrived. ‘Get behind the wheel,’ she commanded, and sat beside him, the pistol pointing at his body. ‘Let’s go.’ The dogs sat down, panting.

  ‘I cannot leave without El Fahri’s permission.’

  ‘If that is going to be your attitude, I sincerely hope you do not have a wife and children. Refuse to drive and I will put a bullet in your gut, then one in your groin, and then one in your head. Obey me, and I give you my word that you will not be harmed.’

  He started the engine. ‘The gates are locked.’

  ‘But you can open them. I saw you do it. Remember? And put the heater on.’ Her teeth were beginning to chatter.

  He obliged and drove out of the garage.

  *

  There was another car, clearly belong
ing to MI6, parked at the foot of the steps, with a man behind the wheel. But he did not appear to respond. Whatever orders he had received from Clive, they clearly had not included stopping El Fahri’s car from leaving.

  They gained the gate without mishap, the chauffeur signalled with his lights, and they drove through. As they did so, a man emerged from beside the gate, waving them to stop. ‘Keep going,’ Anna said, as the car slowed, and they picked up speed again. ‘Now drive me back to London.

  ‘El Fahri is going to be very angry,’ the chauffeur said. ‘I may lose my job.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t guarantee your job,’ Anna said, ‘but I do promise you that El Fahri is not going to be very angry.’

  He digested this silently. Enveloped in a gorgeous plume of hot air, she studied the road, recalling it from their drive out. The wood she wanted had been about twenty miles out of London. And there it was. ‘Stop here,’ she said.

  It was just coming up to eleven and the road was deserted.

  He glanced at her, anxiously. ‘You promised . . .’

  ‘That I would not harm you, if you obey me. I always keep my promises. Give me the keys.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘Now get out.’ She followed him. ‘Let’s see what you have in the boot.’

  He lifted the lid and she peered into the gloom. There was no rope; that was too much to hope for. But there was an assortment of tools, including a pair of jump leads with fairly long connections. ‘Those will have to do. And is that a blanket? You’re a lucky man. Take them out.’

  He obeyed.

  ‘Now let’s a take a walk.’

  She gestured at the trees; and after his usual hesitation, he obeyed. They had to slide down into a shallow ditch and clamber out the other side, then they were on grass, and a few minutes later were in the darkness under the trees. ‘Keep going,’ Anna said.

  They walked for another ten minutes, until the road was completely lost to view. ‘Now spread the blanket and lie down with your back to me,’ Anna commanded. ‘And please do remember something very important. If you attempt to resist me, I will kill you. This is something I have been doing all my life, and I have no compunction about adding you to my list.’

  He lay, half on his face. Anna placed the pistol on the ground, and took off his belt and then his tie. She used his tie to secure his wrists behind his back, and his belt to do the same with his ankles. She found a handkerchief in his pocket and stuffed it into his mouth. Then, having pulled him up and dragged him to a suitable tree trunk, she made him sit with his back to it and wrapped the leads – good strong, thick cable – round his body and the trunk, before securing the two terminals together, on the far side of the tree, and pulling them tight. She was both panting and sweating by the time she finished, but at least it had warmed her up.

  She covered him with the blanket, tucking it into the now open neck of his shirt. ‘I really don’t want you to freeze,’ she explained. ‘But, of course, if you wriggle around too much, the blanket may come untucked. If that happens, and you catch pneumonia, I want you to remember that it was your decision.’

  She made her way back through the trees to the car, and drove away. It was just eleven. She needed to ditch the car before she reached the hotel, as it would easily be traced. But even so, she’d be in her room by twelve, and even if she had a hot bath and changed her clothes, she’d be out again by one – which would surely be before the chauffeur could get loose, and then to a police station, and start telling them where she was staying.

  She reflected that had she been the cold-blooded killer everyone supposed, she’d have put a bullet in his head. It would certainly have been the safest thing to do. Then his body might have lain in the woods for twenty-four hours; and in twenty-four hours she’d be back in the Bahamas. But the man had been English and she estimated that he was too young to have had any wartime links with Fahri, or even with his post-war activities, and she was not in the business of taking innocent lives. So, she thought, as the houses on either side began to multiply, informing her she was in the suburbs, she had condemned herself to spending the night on the street, or a bench at Heathrow. All without her fur. Damnation! But at least she would be more warmly dressed.

  *

  Fleurmann poured brandy, spilling some.

  ‘I think you are nervous,’ Pascall remarked. ‘Because you encountered her?’

  ‘You weren’t there,’ Fleurmann pointed out. ‘She was not three feet away from me, gazing at me, for five minutes, while the elevator went down. It was an unforgettable experience.’

  ‘Did she speak?’ Hamilton asked.

  ‘She merely said, ‘The lobby, please.’ I was closer to the control panel, you see. And it was not so much the voice, it was . . .’

  He sighed.

  ‘Was she as beautiful as Hamilton claims?’ Pascall asked.

  ‘More so. Far more so. There was not a flaw. The features might have been carved by a Greek god. The hair cried out to be stroked. And the body . . . she was wearing a fur coat, but it was open, and her dinner gown was cut almost to her navel. Those breasts . . . I shall dream about them for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Did you see her tits?’ This time Pascall’s voice was eager.

  ‘Well, no. She was not indecent, just provocative.’

  ‘I have seen her naked,’ Hamilton said, proudly.

  The two men stared at him, and he flushed. ‘We were swimming together, at night.’

  ‘Did you have sex with her?’ Pascall was more eager yet.

  ‘No,’ Hamilton said, brusquely. ‘I do not think she is promiscuous, either.’

  ‘That is not what they say of her,’ Pascall argued. ‘They say she fucks every man who comes close to her.’ He grinned. ‘Before killing them.’

  ‘That is why Hamilton is still alive,’ Fleurmann suggested. ‘But you know, it was more than just her looks. It was her eyes. They were blue, so blue, and so large. And they looked at me . . . they were soft. I remember going to a zoo, to the big cats’ enclosure, and watching a female tiger waking up. Her eyes were soft, too . . .’

  ‘You’ll be telling us next they were blue,’ Pascall scoffed.

  ‘No, no. They were yellow. But as I said, they were soft, and they remained soft. But as she stood up and stretched, you could sense the immense power she possessed, that she had at her disposal whenever she required it. I experienced the same feeling when I was looking at the countess.’

  ‘Pffft! Just remember what the boss told us. The one mistake any of us can make is to become fascinated by this woman. As you obviously are.’

  ‘Well,’ Hamilton looked at his watch. ‘It’s just coming up to twelve. We may have another two hours to wait.’

  But at that moment the telephone rang.

  *

  Baxter wore striped pyjamas, and what was left of his hair was standing on end. ‘For God’s sake, Clive, do you know what time it is?’

  ‘It’s a quarter to twelve,’ Clive said, ‘and some of us are still working.’

  ‘Well, come in. It’s bloody freezing.’ He led the way into his lounge. ‘You look as if you could do with a drink. Brandy?’

  ‘Unfortunately . . .’ Clive removed his hat and coat. ‘Some of us are still working.’

  ‘My heart bleeds for you. May I remind you that the reason you are still working is the behaviour of your errant wife. However, I assume that you have regained conjugal possession.’

  ‘Had I done that, Billy, I would happily accept your drink.’

  Baxter lowered the balloon he was filling. ‘You mean . . . Where is she?’

  ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea. But I know where she’s been.’

  ‘Concentrate. The important thing is that you did not find her at Fahri’s. So you managed to sort that out.’

  Clive sat down. ‘Billy, Kola el Fahri is dead.’

  Baxter gulped at the brandy he had half poured, and then refilled the glass, ignoring the measure.

  ‘So is hi
s sidekick, Khouri.’

  ‘But . . . how?’

  ‘The cause of death, in each case, was a bullet wound in the centre of the forehead.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus Christ! Anna?’

  ‘It is her trade mark.’

  ‘But . . . what were his people doing?’

  ‘When I got there, they weren’t doing anything. As far as they were aware, Fahri was upstairs entertaining a very handsome long-haired blonde, and was not to be interrupted.’

  There was a sharp crack, and brandy dripped on to the floor. Baxter apparently didn’t notice. He sat down in turn, still holding the broken and dripping glass. ‘But, if . . . Are you saying she was still there?’

  ‘Very definitely yes. In fact, the assassinations could only have happened minutes before I and my people arrived. We rang the outer bell and were allowed access, but by the time we reached the front door, a matter of perhaps two minutes, the house had been hermetically sealed. Fahri apparently had some kind of hi-tech protection system installed, so that at the touch of a button steel shutters come down over all the windows and all the doors. According to the staff, this extreme action could only be ordered or carried out by Fahri himself, or by this chap Khouri. I had no idea what was going on, so I banged on the door – which was, naturally, not opened because it was sealed. But after what couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, the shutters went up again.’

  ‘You mean Anna turned the system off. Why?’

  ‘Well, obviously, Billy, to get out. She didn’t know we were waiting on the doorstep. But here is the point. Anna couldn’t have deactivated the system, because it is operated by a control panel the working of which was known only to Fahri and Khouri. And the butler, fortunately, or we’d still be there.’

  ‘You’ve lost me. So what do you think happened?’

  ‘As I said earlier, unless it’s a matter of self-defence, in which case she’s like a streak of greased lightning, Anna takes her time. An execution has to be meticulous; and most important of all, she has to be absolutely certain that her designated target is guilty.’