BLINDFOLD

by Lyndon Stacey

  At the bottom of the steps they found themselves in a corridor some thirty feet long, with three pairs of heavy metal doors leading off it at regular intervals. All the doors were closed and fitted the frames so tightly that no light could have escaped to hint at occupancy. Feeling like someone out of a TV detective series, Gideon joined Joey in flattening himself against the cold corridor wall as they cautiously opened each door in turn.

  The first two rooms they revealed were obviously derelict. Each about fifteen feet square, a quick flash of the torch showed a dusty old desk and filing cabinet in one, and a number of metal-framed chairs with khaki canvas seats in the second. The rooms smelled musty and were cold and deeply depressing. Gideon found himself hoping, as they approached the next, that there wasn't a mouldering skeleton seated at a desk, pen still in hand.

  The third was a kind of radio room, presumably once wired to an outside mast, and the fourth a bunkroom with eight bunkbeds, still draped with blankets. These rooms also appeared dry and dusty, and had at some time supported a colony of busy spiders, which had almost certainly met a hungry end.

  They walked ever more softly towards the last pair of doors and paused.

  Joey looked sideways at Gideon.

  `Fifty-fifty,' he whispered. `Which one d'you fancy?' `Neither,' Gideon replied frankly. `You choose, pal.'

  Another gleam of teeth rewarded this mimicry, and Joey leaned towards the door on their right and stood listening.

  After a moment he pursed his lips and shook his head. He swung the door open and flashed the torch inside before moving across to the other. Gideon held his breath. They had to be there. Curly had said as much, and this was the last door.

  Joey looked back over his shoulder and gave the thumbs up, with a nod. He returned on silent feet to where Gideon waited. `They're in there all right,' he whispered. `What now?' Gideon wished he knew. `Do you know how many there's likely to be?'

  `Couldn't say, pal. Slade can lay his hands on just about whoever he wants. If I knew what he was up to, I might have more idea.' He looked at Gideon with an air of expectancy.

  `What?' Gideon demanded in quiet exasperation. `You think I know, is that it? Well, I don't. I'm only interested in getting my sister back.'

  `So, that stuff you told Curly - about the money - that was a load of crap, was it? I thought so.'

  `I was trying to stall him, that was all,' Gideon said. Just how long were you there before you stepped in?'

  `I only caught that last bit,' Joey told him. `So what now?' `Well, we can't just go charging in, so we'll have to get them - or some of them - to come out. Divide and conquer.'

  `Okay,' Joey said briskly. `I'll give it a try. Here, you might need this.' He held the torch out.

  Gideon took it, startled. `What are you ... ?'

  The question died on his lips as Joey stepped up to the door, rapped jauntily on the metal skin and opened it, as bold as brass. Gideon hurriedly flattened himself against the wall, biting off a gasp as his ribs protested again. From this position he heard Slade's sharp exclamation, `What the bloody hell are you doing here?' `If that ape up there was supposed to be guarding this place, you're out of luck, pal.' Joey sounded completely relaxed. 'Someone's laid him out cold. I thought you'd like to know.'

  `Shit! You, Smithy! Go and see what's going on. And find out where the chopper's got to while you're at it.'

  Gideon heard footsteps as Smithy presumably made to do as he was told, and saw Joey angle his body to let him pass. He was barely through the doorway, however, when he appeared to trip and measured his length on the concrete floor at Gideon's feet with a muffled curse.

  `Whoops!' Joey said. `Sorry, pal. Are you okay?'

  He was, that is until Gideon made use of Logan's invaluable torch. A brief check assured him that the man still breathed - he had no desire to have a death on his conscience, however deserved - and then, gritting his teeth against the effort, he swiftly bent and rolled the inert body against the wall out of sight. Straightening up with the aid of the wall, he completed the charade by padding up and down on the spot for a moment with decreasingly audible footfalls. Joey gave the slightest of winks before turning back towards the light of the room.

  `What the hell's going on?' Slade was clearly unhappy.

  `He's okay,' Joey said blithely. Just tripped over his own feet, clumsy bastard! He's gone now.'

  `How did you find this place?'

  Jeez, that's easy.' Joey advanced into the room, out of Gideon's view. `You didn't think Curly would keep his mouth shut, did you? And besides, I followed your friend Blake.'

  Slade swore sharply. `Blake's here? Where?'

  Gideon held his breath, his heart pounding, and with a sickening jolt of shock, heard Joey say lightly, `Sure he is. He's just outside the door.'

  There was a pause during which Gideon's mind was racing. Damn Joey Dylan for a twisty, treacherous bastard! He waited, almost frozen with fear, for Slade to order him taken.

  There came instead a short bark of laughter.

  `You're full of shit, Joey!' Slade grunted. `And you're wasting my time. Come and make yourself useful. If there is someone up there, Smithy will deal with them but we need to get out now!'

  The relief was almost as shattering as the shock had been. Gideon leaned against the wall, bathed in sweat and trying to steady his breathing and his nerves. What game was Joey playing now?

  `What's with the pictures?'Joey asked.

  'Milne's had them stashed here for donkeys' years, apparently,' Slade told him. `They're by some artist called Darius Sinclair. I only found out about them the other day. I happened to be having a little look through Milne's filing cabinet-'

  `Like you do,' Joey put in.

  `Like you do,' he agreed. `And I came across a load of press clippings about these paintings going walkies from one of the London galleries way back in the sixties. It seems my good friend Meredith has a shady past. I faced him with it and he gave me some shit about keeping them for the nation. In other words, he nicked them. So if they're not his, they might just as well be mine.'

  `Well, well. All this time and I didn't know you were an art lover,' Joey said in wondering tones. `I suppose they might be worth a bob or two?'

  `They're priceless,' Slade said shortly. `And because they're priceless, they need to be wrapped carefully. The thing is, I had no idea how big the sodding things were and these bags aren't big enough. If they get wet, they'll be ruined, so they'll have to be covered. I suppose it's still raining?' he queried with little optimism.

  `Pissing down, pal,' Joey lied. `Cats and friggin' dogs!' There came the crackle of plastic and the sound of tape being pulled from a roll.

  Gideon grinned to himself. They were still a team.

  `So what's in it for me?'Joey wanted to know. `I don't work for nothing.'

  `I'll see you right. Just get on with it, okay?'

  `So Milne was all right with you going through his filing cabinet, was he? Should have thought he'd hit the roof?'

  'Ah, but he's sweet on me, you see,' Slade explained. `And he's a very lonely old man. He'd forgive me almost anything.'

  `But, you're not . . .'

  `No, but it would have been cruel not to give him some hope.' `You're unbelievable, you know that, pal?' Joey remarked. `Still, it was trusting of the old boy to tell you where he'd stashed `em. Not to say stupid.'

  `He didn't. But it didn't take much working out. Daft bastard took me on as extra security, then offered me a bonus if I could shift the vet and his fancy woman. Said if the Sanctuary grew into a tourist attraction he'd get no peace and quiet. Yeah, whatever. A bonus is a bonus. But then the other night, some morons down at the Bell and Broom were arguing about old George Callow's bunker, and knowing what I knew, I started to wonder. When I called on the silly old codger he couldn't wait to tell me all about this place. Even had a map, would you believe? Did have, that is.'

  Slade chuckled, and Gideon clenched his jaw bitterly. He looked down at Smithy who sho
wed no sign of stirring, and wondered if he should strip his belt off and secure the man's wrists. Joey's next words put the thought out of his mind.

  `Thought you'd be gone by now,' he remarked casually. `Yeah, well, Reynolds had some bloke round here half the afternoon taking measurements. When he'd gone we nabbed the vet, got rid of his car and came down here. But then the girl came back and started prowling around looking for lover boy. My lucky day! A chance to get my own back on Gideon "pain in the arse" Blake.'

  Gideon went cold. There was no sound from Naomi and Tim. Were they gagged? Or unconscious? He felt sure his sister would have said something by now had she been able to.

  `What are you going to do with them?' `Nothing.'

  `Nothing? Then why ... ?'

  'I'm going to do nothing,' Slade repeated. `I'm just going to turn off the light, wave goodbye, lock the outer door and throw

  away the key. I expect somebody'll figure out where they are sooner or later. Maybe even while they're still alive. Anyway, I'll be long gone.'

  `You're a cold bastard, Slade,' Joey said, almost conversationally. `And what if I don't go along with that?'

  `Oh, I think you will,' he said, unperturbed. `I think there are a number of things you've done for me that you'd rather the police didn't know about.'

  `Not murder,' Joey pointed out.

  `Oh, I wouldn't call it murder. More - neglect.' Slade chuckled at his own wit.

  With an effort, Gideon forced himself to remain still. Joey would presumably let him know when it was time to move. It was as hard a thing as he had ever had to do, though. Slade couldn't have provoked him more thoroughly had he known he was listening outside the door.

  Or did he know? Had Joey confirmed his words by way of some silent signal? Was it, after all, just part of some elaborate plot? Gideon made himself think logically. What could either of them possibly gain by keeping up the deception? All they would have to do was step outside the door and grab him. The way he felt, if he moved too fast he'd probably fall over and Joey knew that, even if Slade didn't.

  `So, who's the other bozo? `Joey asked. `Why isn't he doing this?'

  `What is this? Twenty soddin' questions? Because he's a hamfisted idiot, if you must know. He's already dropped one of them and broken the frame. I can't afford that at maybe half a million a time. Now shut up and hold that corner tight.'

  There were two of them left, then. Gideon wished he knew whereabouts in the room Tim and Naomi were. Presumably they were tied and gagged. He felt sure Naomi wouldn't have stayed quiet otherwise. Did the `other bozo' have a weapon?

  `Smithy, Curly, Whatsisface over there - why so many?'Joey persisted.

  `Because there are eight pictures and they're bloody heavy! What did you think I was going to do? Tuck four under each arm? Where the shit has Smithy got to? He should have been back by now. Am I surrounded by imbeciles?'

  There was a significant pause and then Slade said with heavy emphasis, `Who did slug Curly? If there's someone else about, then why haven't they found this place yet? You did.'

  `Actually, I hit him,' Joey admitted. `But he started it. Tried to stop me coming down.'

  `You did? What the hell are you playing at?' Slade sounded understandably testy. `Well, where's Smithy, then? And what about Renson? He should've been here by now.'

  If Slade didn't know where Joey was coming from, he wasn't the only one. Gideon was struggling to keep up with his constant changes of direction. He could only hope that confusion was part of his plan, if indeed he had one.

  `Choppers go wrong,' Joey suggested helpfully.

  `You're fucking me around!' Slade cut in abruptly. There was a sharp click followed by deep silence, then he spoke again. `If you're out there, Blake, you should know there's a gun pointed at your sister's head. Your little game is over. You may as well come in.' Shit! Gideon thought. Now what?

  The silence lengthened as he desperately tried to weigh his options. If he did as Slade said he was surely throwing away any chance for Naomi or himself. But if he didn't and Slade carried out his implied threat, the consequence was unthinkable. On the other hand, did Slade even know for sure that Gideon was out there? He could be bluffing.

  Whilst he wavered Joey spoke again. Soft, joshing; no sign that he was on a knife-edge. `Oh, come on, pal. You're not serious? What d'you think he's doing? Standing outside the door listening? You're getting paranoid!'

  `He could have come looking for his sister,' Slade pointed out with unsettling accuracy. `He wouldn't have any trouble dealing with Curly, he's a powerful bastard, you told me that yourself.'

  Oh, no, no trouble at all, Gideon thought ironically. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his neck and scalp even as he stood there.

  `Well, whatever,' Joey said dismissively. `Blake's no friend of mine, so do me a favour and point that thing somewhere else. I don't know why the hell you think I'd team up with him.'

  Slade grunted. `Because you've got principles, and that makes you unpredictable,' he said.

  Gideon was unwillingly impressed by his perception, but whatever Slade's reservations, after a moment he heard the crackle of plastic once more.

  Behind him, without warning, Smithy stirred and groaned. Gideon whipped round but Smithy already had his eyes open and was drawing breath to shout. Hating to do it, Gideon bounced the unfortunate man's head off the concrete wall with his foot.

  . He wasn't quite quick enough. Just before contact was made, Smithy managed to utter the beginnings of a warning shout, and even as he subsided again, Gideon heard Slade swear and there was a flurry of violent activity inside the room, followed by a stifled but unmistakably feminine cry.

  Fear for his sister overrode any thoughts of personal safety. Gideon pushed the heavy door wide and plunged straight in, eyes instinctively seeking out Naomi's figure before all else but compelled to stop instead on Slade.

  He was standing in the far corner of the room, surrounded by pictures and packaging, with Joey a pace or two in front and to one side of him. As Gideon entered the room Slade was looking straight at him, a roll of parcel tape in his right hand and a small but deadly pistol in the other.

  The pistol was pointing unwaveringly at Gideon's chest.

  SEVENTEEN

  THE ROUND, BLACK MUZZLE of the gun was a very effective brake. Gideon stopped so suddenly he almost overbalanced. From his right he heard another muffled sound of alarm from Naomi but he didn't look across. Even had he done so, he didn't feel that a reassuring smile would be very credible in the circumstances.

  `So, Gideon Blake. Come to join our little party,' Slade purred. `My cup runneth over.'

  Gideon dragged his eyes away from Slade's left hand. The pistol looked plastic, like a toy. Hard to think that such a tiny black hole could deliver such a deadly payload. Too much to hope that Slade was really right-handed.

  He transferred his gaze, with an effort, to Slade's smoothly handsome face. There were triumph and vicious intent there, in equal measures. The small gold ring in his ear gleamed in the light of the overhead bulb.

  The bulb. Gideon wondered for a fleeting second if he could smash it with the torch but dismissed the idea. Even if he managed it, and with the pain in his side he wasn't at all certain that his aim

  would be true, the best he could hope for was chaos, and with the gun in his hand, Slade was best placed to take advantage of that. `I wouldn't,' Slade remarked.

  `I wasn't going to,' Gideon said. There was a pause during which he felt that everyone must be able to hear the heavy pounding of his heart, and he risked a quick glance round the room.

  It was bigger than the others they had looked into, with contemporary if minimalist furnishings comprising one leather swivel-based chair, a small round table, and what looked like a drinks cabinet. The walls were covered with some sort of hessian and each one supported two chrome picture lights. One picture remained hanging, one was half-packed in bubble-wrap, and the others leaned against the far wall behind Slade, swathed in plastic
and brown tape.

  Milne's private gallery.

  All this Gideon absorbed in an instant before shifting his gaze over his right shoulder towards Naomi. She and Tim were sitting propped against the wall, bound at the wrist and ankle with quantities of brown parcel tape and gagged with what looked like dusters. Their faces reflected the severe strain they were under and Naomi's eyes met Gideon's imploringly. More than averagely resilient, she nevertheless appeared near the end of her tether. Tim also looked dazed and disbelieving.

  Gideon returned his gaze to Slade and said in a surprisingly steady voice, `So what now?'

  `Now we put you with your precious sister and her boyfriend, and you can all keep each other company when I leave and turn out the lights.'

  `All because I spoilt your little game with the horses?' Gideon asked incredulously.

  `Oh, that! No, that was a nuisance but I was getting tired of it anyway. It was too bloody slow. And I'd had enough of working with gutless, whingeing amateurs.'

  `So you blew up Tom Collins' cottage and him with it.'

  `The stupid bastard wasn't even supposed to be there!' Slade said contemptuously. `He rang me in a panic, saying you were on to us and almost blubbering with fear, so I told him to stay at home and I'd take care of you. He thought I was just going to slap your wrist and ask you politely to mind your own business but I had something a bit more permanent in mind. I'd had about enough of you poking your nose where it wasn't wanted.'

  `He just can't stand to be crossed, can you, pal?' Joey commented. He was standing a few feet to the right of Slade and nearer the wall. `Whether there's fifty grand at stake or just a parking space, he can't bear to be beaten.'

  If Joey had been trying to distract Slade's attention, it didn't work. The dark eyes didn't waver as he said quietly, `Shut up, Joey! I'll deal with you in a minute.'

  `Well, you've won in the end,' Gideon pointed out reasonably. He had no real expectation that reason would weigh with Slade but he didn't know what else to try. He would rather, by far, have been dealing with a dangerous animal, however unpredictable. `What have you got to gain by killing us? You've got the pictures and you've got the helicopter waiting.' He tried not to linger on the thought of Renson locked inside it and the key - heaven knows where. 'Naomi and Tim have got nothing to do with any of this. At least let them go.'