Generations of Love

by Wendy Pulford

  He glanced up at Peter again, and there was no warmth in his smile. ‘You see, no proof again, only talk. Perhaps you need to learn a lesson, after which you might reconsider and do the smart thing by joining in and benefiting from our activities. Everyone has to pay, somehow, sometime…’ His voice dropped away. ‘Just like me.’

  Then he roused himself again, but the words were just a hiss. ‘Yes, Peter, payment is now due!’

  As Franklin’s words sank in, Peter’s mind went into freefall. Fear was in his heart – and in his voice. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Franklin sat back in his chair, now calm and controlled, smiling up at him.

  Although he had uttered the question, Peter already knew the answer. He could feel his body turning to ice, and his limbs began to tremble. Oh dear God, no. It was like a replay of some terrible nightmare. Once more this man intended to cause harm to someone dear to him. First his mother, and now…

  Pain lanced through him at the thought of what might happen because of his own stupid, misguided, selfish actions. What did justice and honour mean when he had brought danger to the one thing in his life he had come to care for, to love?

  ‘You’re crazy!’ he shouted. ‘If you’ve hurt Christa I’ll…!’

  Franklin looked back at him, his face still quite calm and composed. Peter turned and raced out of the room, scrabbling for his phone. He dared not wait for the lift, but hurtled down the stairs and through the lobby, almost bowling over a man standing near the front desk. As he raced out into the fresh air, he heard Dougie answer.

  CHAPTER 30

  Liam O’Dowd stood on the opposite side of the street from the Grosvenor Club, under the shadowy overhang of a tree. He kept still, just watching and listening. The parked cars in the road were dark and quiet. He had seen no discernible movement for some while now. The odd car and taxi had passed and continued on down the road, likewise a couple of pedestrians.

  The wind had picked up since he had been standing there, and it was now cold and dark. He looked up. It was strange how, since being in prison, he took more notice of the sky and its moods and changes. There was plenty of cloud cover over the moon tonight. One of the first winter storms was supposed to be coming in from the west, but before it hit he would be long gone.

  Quarter to ten. Time to move. He crossed the road and walked up to the entrance of the Club. He passed into the foyer, pulling down the brim of his hat.

  ‘Mr Greville to see Judge Franklin. I’m expected.’ He kept as much accent out of his voice as possible.

  The desk clerk nodded and picked up a phone.

  ‘Sir, Mr Greville is here for his appointment… Yes, yes I will, sir.’

  At that moment a young man ran through the foyer, alarm etched on his face. O’Dowd had to sidestep out of his way. Their eyes met for a second. Grey eyes, so like someone else.

  The clerk, replacing the receiver, looked after the departing figure and then nodded to O’Dowd.

  ‘You may go up, Mr Greville. First floor, the last door on the right.’

  O’Dowd moved over to the lift. Was he right? Could that have been Peter Hartman? The coincidence was too great for him to be anyone other than Alex Hartman’s son. Visiting Judge Franklin. What did this mean? Was he on an innocent family visit with no knowledge of how Franklin had impacted upon his parents lives? Or had he been drawn into the web in some way? Franklin could have tutored the boy over the years. He felt a twinge of something like sadness for Alex Hartman if that was the case.

  The lift stopped and he exited into a corridor. He made immediate note of the flight of stairs leading back down the way he had come. Another exit, if he needed it. There was a window at the end of the corridor, but when he looked out it was a sheer drop from the first floor. Not a good idea! He turned to the appropriate door, knocked, and a voice bade him enter.

  Judge Franklin was sitting behind his desk. He did not rise to greet him. O’Dowd smiled to himself. Playing mind games, eh?

  ‘Good evening, Judge.’

  He took a chair opposite the desk, although he had not been invited to sit down.

  ‘If you’d care to get down to business I haven’t got all night.’ Franklin’s tone was clipped and formal, and without warmth.

  Well, you’re a cool one and no mistake, thought O’Dowd. Fair enough… for the moment.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I’ll take up very little of your time. I believe there’s some information on offer,’ he began.

  ‘That is correct, but not for the price which has been stated.’

  ‘This is the sum I am instructed to offer.’

  ‘Then, as it is not deemed acceptable, I feel our discussion is at an end. Rather a waste of time all round.’

  ‘Not quite, Judge.’

  O’Dowd stood, and in a casual move perched himself on the corner of the desk. He saw Franklin staring at him, a little nervous now. ‘There was one small matter I thought we might have a little chat about.’ He paused. ‘Does Glasgow airport mean anything to you?’

  He saw Franklin’s eyes narrow and a slight paleness to his face. Yes, you remember alright!

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. It would be a good idea if you left, or I’ll call a member of the staff and have you escorted out.’

  O’Dowd rose, but did not move to the door. Instead, he walked to the side of the desk, bent to the skirting board, and pulled out the telephone wire. Franklin watched him, and his expression was now one of serious alarm.

  ‘We don’t want you making any telephone calls now, do we?’

  O’Dowd sounded quite affable as he came back to his perch on the desk, swinging one leg, to all intents and purposes relaxed and untroubled.

  ‘Now, returning to Glasgow. It may interest you to know that I was the operative picked up that night.’ He watched with interest as the blood drained from the face staring at him. ‘Even if I hadn’t spent a lot of my time back tracking that anonymous letter to yourself, I think your reaction would have given me the answer.’

  With a casual gesture he picked up the letter opener from the desk blotter with his gloved hand, and studied it. He saw the Judge’s eyes following his every move.

  ‘I had a hard time convincing my friends not to come and see you a long time ago, but asked them to wait until I was in a position to do so myself. You know, Judge, they were not very pleased about the events of that night. Needless to say, I was even more unhappy.’ His voice and look hardened.

  ‘I’ve spent a considerable number of uncomfortable years because of your actions, and I think there should be some recompense. For others, also. Take the fishing boat skipper. I dare say you are uninterested in the fact that he committed suicide, believing he’d lost everything. Recompense also for Alex Hartman and his wife.’

  He watched as Franklin’s face appeared to crumple in on itself.

  ‘Oh yes, I read all about it in the newspapers, and I’ve had a lot of time to think and work things out. It’s strange, you know, how professionals in any walk of life always appreciate the professionalism of another. Alex Hartman struck me as an honest policeman, doing his job rather well. He found things out about you, didn’t he, Judge? And so he had to be silenced. I didn’t buy all that rubbish about a violent domestic argument. It was set up wasn’t it, but why you had to kill the girl, your own niece, is beyond me. Didn’t you care about their young child? That night in Glasgow I saw Hartman’s reaction to the idea of going back to London to see his new baby. You took that away from them both, and blighted the child’s life. Why? Did you want your claws in him as well, or was that the whole idea. He’s been here tonight hasn’t he.’

  He saw the nervous twitch in the hands.

  ‘I trust, for Alex Hartman’s sake, you haven’t perverted the boy into your line of work. Let’s hope he has as much integrity as his father. Taking bribes, indeed! You can tell whic
h people play it straight, and Alex Hartman was one of those.’

  Franklin attempted to stand. With insolent ease, O’Dowd pushed him back down. He looked at his watch. Five minutes to ten; he had told his driver ten o’clock. Without any discernible haste he leant closer, putting one arm across Franklin’s shoulder to hold him against the back of the chair, and struck twice with the letter opener. Franklin’s eyes widened and a slight gasp came from him.

  ‘I’m good at my job, Judge. Already you’re past saving. You’ll last a bit longer, though, as you bleed away inside. Time for an honest talk with your conscience, eh? Get some things off your chest, maybe.’

  O’Dowd stood and placed the letter opener in the Judge’s hands in his lap.

  ‘Might look like suicide, perhaps. Sins too weighty!’

  With a casual smile and a tip of his hat brim, he left the room.

  He saw the lift coming up and decided to take the stairs. He slowed as he neared the foyer. He sensed that something was wrong. There were several people milling around and he knew it was trouble.

  He saw a door on his left and slipped through it, finding himself in a corridor leading to the kitchen area. He spotted a fire escape door and walked to it, and let himself out. As his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see that he was in a small yard off the street used for rubbish bins. A quick look, and in a few moments he had melted away into the night.

  *

  Christa was annoyed with herself. Luigi had just called to say he was popping round in a few minutes. She knew how he liked his milky coffee, and there was almost no milk left in the fridge. There was nothing for it but to go round to the deli; she would just make it before they shut at nine-thirty.

  Fifteen minutes later she was on her way back home, trudging head down into the wind. This would be her first winter in England and she wondered how it would compare to Canada. The night was dark and cool and the wind whipped the dried leaves into eddies about her feet as she walked. Their rustling sound was ominous, as if there were other feet walking with her. She resisted the urge to turn and look behind. Glancing up, she could see the light above her doorway and knew she would soon be home again.

  The arm that reached around her shoulders was unexpected. It was strong and hard, and she was swiftly pinned against the metal railings. A gloved hand closed over her mouth and she could make no sound. She tried to struggle, but to no avail, her assailant was too strong. She saw the metal blade glint in the pale light and her heart failed her. Dear God, no! Oh Peter, help me, please!

  CHAPTER 31

  Franklin could not believe what had just happened, and yet he felt the pain in his chest and stomach, and saw the blood on his hands. He had to get help. He tried to stand, the letter opener falling to the floor as he did so. There was a noise outside in the corridor and his door burst open.

  ‘Police! Keep still!’

  His mouth twisted into a smile. He sank back in his chair and closed his eyes. He somehow doubted they were here to save him. So, who had talked? Someone abroad, or… closer to home? There was, after all, a growing list. It was bound to happen one day, but not yet… it was too soon. He still had people and situations to influence and direct, but… Why could he no longer remember what it was he had to do? He felt tired… and it was becoming too much of an effort to think.

  *

  Christa was paralysed with fear as she felt the cold metal against her throat. The scream was inside her head, but she knew that no sound would come out.

  Then she heard a grunt of expelled air and the grip on her body relaxed. Her assailant’s weight was hauled away from her and there were sounds of a scuffle. She clung to the railings, her mind trying to grasp what was happening. She heard shouts and the sound of running feet.

  Knowing she had to get away somehow, she attempted to move, but her legs would not respond. A gentle hand grasped her arm and a voice she thought she recognised spoke to her.

  ‘Don’t worry, little girl. You’re safe now.’

  She turned and looked up… into the face of Michael Hartman.

  *

  Christa registered that she was lying on her settee… then she remembered! She tried to struggle up as the horror returned, but she was wrapped in a blanket. Luigi’s face came into view, concerned at first, and then smiling.

  ‘Keep still for the moment, my dear. You’ve had a nasty shock, but you’re fine.’

  ‘There was someone outside, Luigi! He had a knife!’ She felt the fear returning again.

  ‘You’re quite safe. He’s in custody. It was fortunate that Michael and I came along when we did.’

  ‘Michael? Yes, that’s right, Luigi. Michael Hartman! I saw him Luigi, didn’t I?’

  Luigi grinned at her. ‘Yes, you saw him.’

  He pointed over to the other side of the room where two men were in conversation with his friend.

  ‘I was bringing him round to see you, as you had said Peter was going to be tied up tonight. I thought we could discuss a first meeting. We were walking from the Tube, and as we turned the corner into your road, Michael raced away from me and the next thing I knew he was grappling with someone. Then there were shouts and other people came running.

  Michael had seen the man approach you from behind and he must have sensed what was about to happen. He had the man on the floor before the others reached you. Apparently there was a surveillance team parked in a car up the road, but they might have been too far away…’

  He tailed off, and Christa saw the concern darken his eyes.

  She struggled up and took his hand. ‘Peter? Does he know what’s happened? Luigi, I must talk to him.’

  ‘Yes, he knows, Christa. He’s been told that you’re safe and that I’m with you. He wants to be with you himself, but he’s tied up with Sergeant Johnson somewhere. He says I’m to stay with you and bring you round to Sarah’s tomorrow. He was very insistent when I spoke with him, about sending you his love.’

  Christa watched as Michael Hartman walked across the room towards her.

  ‘How are you feeling, Miss Benjamin?’

  Looking at him, the grey eyes, lined at the corners, but so like the ones she thought she might never see again, Christa was once more overcome.

  Seeing her obvious distress, Michael Hartman sat beside her and put his arm round her shoulders.

  ‘Don’t even think about it, my dear. Nothing happened. There appear to have been others looking after you. I just got there first.’

  Christa turned her head onto his chest. ‘You saved my life. How can I ever thank you.’

  She felt a slight chuckle run through him.

  ‘Well, you’ve proved to me tonight that there’s still life in this old body. But more important still, from what Luigi has been telling me, you can make sure that you take good care of my grandson.’

  Christa turned her face up to his, a smile breaking through her tears.

  ‘Oh, you can be sure of that!’

  *

  Having arrived home well after dawn, and snatching a few hours sleep, Peter had just finished dressing when Christa came into his room. Seeing her standing there, he thought she looked the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, her rich gold hair loose on her shoulders and her brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  In one stride he crossed to her and folded her in his arms, burying his head in her hair.

  ‘Oh, my dear, it’s so good to hold you. Are you sure you’re alright?’

  ‘I am now… here with you.’

  He had to listen hard to catch the words between her sobs. He knew he had to be honest with her.

  ‘Christa, it was my fault that you were put in danger. I’d been trying to convince Franklin that I was keen to be a part of his little scheme. Because of that, he deemed you unsuitable, and decided to do something about it. I went to visit him last night to confront him over my paren
ts, but when he told me what might happen to you, I was beside myself. There was nothing I could do. I didn’t know then that people were watching you.’

  He drew back and looked deep into her brown eyes. ‘Christa, I could have caused you harm by my actions, and I would never have forgiven myself. What could I have said to your father?’

  He felt her soft hand on his cheek.

  ‘You did what you felt you had to do, Peter. You couldn’t know that dreadful person was planning to hurt me. I’m proud of you for doing what you have for your parents… And, Peter… I have something to tell you.’

  She made him sit beside her on his bed, and he listened, the shock registering on his face, as she told him her news.

  ‘You mean… he’s here? And he was the one who…?’

  He could not believe the sheer coincidence of events. That his own grandfather should be the one to save the life of this precious girl sitting beside him was… inconceivable.

  She was looking at him now, her brown eyes dark with worry.

  ‘Are you angry with me for prying into your affairs?’

  He pulled her close. ‘Angry? Of course I’m not angry! I think it’s wonderful that you did it.’

  He looked at her, then, apprehension flooding through him. ‘He knows what happened?’

  He saw the sadness in her eyes.

  ‘Yes, Luigi told him. He said he had a feeling that something was wrong. I think he has regrets for not trying to make contact years ago. But you, of all people, can appreciate that sometimes a step like that is not easy to make. Peter, don’t be too harsh on him. After all, he has lost a son. He’s an old man now, but you both have a chance of time together. Will you come and meet him?’