by Jack Treby
Freddie scratched his chin. ‘But what will you do when you get to Belize?’
‘Contact the governor. Get a message to London, telling them my side of the story. I have a few connections back home. I’ll get a fair hearing from them, if not from the minister.’ I would throw myself on the mercy of my real bosses.
‘I know a couple of blokes in the governor's office in British Honduras. I could probably put in a word for you.’
‘That would be appreciated.’
‘You’ll like it there. It’s a nice place. Got a really relaxed feel to it.’ Freddie grinned. ‘But hey, what about the people back home? In the Foreign Office? If the government of Guatemala makes an official complaint, they’ll hit the roof!’
‘It won’t come to that. Tejada came here to cover up his own wrong doing. He won’t want to draw attention to events. It’ll look bad for him, especially if he had the man responsible under lock and key and let him escape.’
Freddie was sceptical. ‘You’re really going to take Joseph Green with you?’
‘What choice do I have? He’s a dead man if I leave him behind. He has to come with us. But to be honest, it’s the boy Moses I’m really worried about. You know it was him who spiked the generator.’
‘You’re joking!’ Freddie laughed. ‘The little tyke!’
‘He’s stronger than he looks.’ The boy must have found a suitable branch on Saturday afternoon and stashed it somewhere close by, before skipping out after dark to nobble the generator. It had been his way of getting his own back on the family after Joseph Green had been whipped. ‘But if the general realises it was him who released Green...well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. You’ve got to make sure he doesn’t make the connection. It was my man Maurice who let Green out of that hut, at my insistence.’
‘Of course it was.’ Freddie grinned again. ‘Blimey, you’ve got it all worked out.’ He shook his head, dumbfounded. ‘I can’t believe you’re being so calm about it all.’
‘I don’t feel calm,’ I said. ‘But when your neck is on the line it does focus the mind somewhat. I’m relying on you, Freddie. You have to keep Moses out of it.’
‘Are you sure the general didn’t recognise him, when he fired at the gate?’
‘I’m fairly sure. It was too dark for him to know who he was shooting at. He’ll assume it was Green. And, so far as anybody here is concerned, it was my man Maurice who crept up and clobbered him from behind. You’ve got to make sure everybody understands that. We don’t want to get the housekeeper into any trouble, for protecting that lad of hers.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Freddie said. ‘You can rely on me. I’ll make sure they stick to the story.’
I had already given a brief pep talk to the other householders. Once we had dealt with the police and carried the body of Mr Montana to the front of the house, where he was laid out respectfully next to his wife, I had shuffled them across to the servants’ cottage and told them everything they needed to know. My man and I – and Joseph Green – were responsible for everything that had happened in the last few hours. It was a bare faced lie, of course, and most of them knew it, but I did my best to impress on them the value of sticking to the story. To my surprise, the group accepted the idea – and even the necessity of being locked up for the night – with little complaint. ‘It’s for your own protection,’ I assured them. ‘If the general thinks you were complicit in his incarceration then you’ll all be up against the wall as soon as the sun’s over the horizon tomorrow morning. Just stick to the story. We were the ones who were armed. You were just following orders.’
‘And for god’s sake,’ I added now, to Freddie, ‘make sure you keep them inside that cottage until at least nine am.’
This time, there was no necessity for handcuffs or gags. Freddie and Miss Bunting could keep an eye on the rest of the householders through the early hours. Neither was there any need to withhold the regular comforts. Mrs Weiman had accompanied Greta to the kitchen to prepare a bit of cold food to see them all through the night. I had taken a few minutes then to get myself cleaned up, washing away the mud and blood of the last hour – and pouring myself a large glass of whisky – before finalizing the arrangements for our departure.
‘I’ll keep them quiet,’ Freddie agreed. ‘But what do you think will happen when we let the general out in the morning? I’m not worried for myself,’ he added hastily, lest I should think him a coward, ‘I’m thinking about Emily. What happens if he takes out his anger on us?’
‘It is a possibility,’ I conceded. ‘I can’t pretend otherwise.’ As fellow members of the British legation, they might reasonably expect to be in the firing line. Tejada had no great love of the British. ‘Look, you’d better release him yourself. Smash a window in the cottage, pretend you broke out, then open up the generator room and untie him yourself. That should get you in his good books.’
‘Let’s hope so!’ Freddie grinned nervously.
‘I don’t think you need worry, though. He’s more likely to take out his anger on his own men. Just...feel free to say what you like about me. The nastier the better. The general will be more concerned with chasing Green and me than hanging around here to batter any of you.’
‘And when he finds out you’ve left the country?’
I shrugged. ‘Then I imagine he’ll be looking to limit the fallout. He may be a brute but he’s not a fool. He’s not going to do anything that casts himself in a bad light. He’s got four dead bodies in hand. He can concoct any explanation he likes. I’m sure Mr and Mrs Weiman will back any story he puts out, if it means they are left alone. And that’s all he needs.’
‘So he’ll get away with it, then?’ Freddie said. ‘Arranging George Talbot’s death?’ I had told the Englishman all about the general’s confession.
‘Probably,’ I admitted, with some distaste. ‘But he’ll get his comeuppance one day. That sort always does.’
‘And what am I going to say to the minister, when me and Emily get back to Guatemala City?’
I chuckled, picturing Mr Richard’s face turning a bright shade of puce when he heard all the details. Part of me wished I could be there to see it. If I had to abandon the damn job, I was happy to cause maximum embarrassment to the head of the mission. That said, I had no desire to hurt Freddie’s career prospects, even if it had been his foolishness that had brought me to this point. ‘Tell him you were caught up in events. You had no idea what was going on. I got myself involved out of a misplaced sense of duty and ended up implicating myself. But essentially it was a domestic dispute; and you being here was just bad luck. The same for Miss Bunting. Ah, speak of the devil.’
Emily Bunting was descending the hall stairs, carrying a small brown holdall. She wore a quiet smile, as she arrived at the bottom. ‘I borrowed the bag from your room, Freddie. I hope you don’t mind.’ The blond man waved away the inconvenience. ‘I hope this will do. It’s the best I could manage.’ Her eyes were twinkling as she as handed it over.
Freddie was in on the idea. He looked from the holdall to me in amusement. ‘It’s never going to work.’ He laughed. ‘You’ll never get away with it.’
Miss Bunting wiped a fleck of dust from my suit. ‘I’m sure you’ll do very well.’ She beamed.
‘It’s only for a few hours,’ I said, pulling out my pocket watch and coughing with embarrassment. ‘And the passports are genuine, if nothing else.’ No customs official would look twice at them. ‘There are some advantages to being a passport control officer.’
‘You certainly think ahead,’ Freddie observed, with a smirk. ‘What will you do about Joseph?’
‘I’ve got a blank passport he can use. Maurice has already filled it out. There shouldn’t be any problem passing him off as a British subject. Jamaican stock and all that.’
‘But you’ll need a photograph, won’t you?’
‘We’ll cut and paste the one from his identity card. It’s not ideal but it’ll serve, if they don’t look too closely.’ I smiled,
glancing down at the holdall. ‘Thank you for this, Miss Bunting.’
‘It’s the least I can do, Mr Buxton.’ The girl was grinning from ear to ear.
‘Give us a minute, will you Freddie?’ I asked. ‘I need to have a quick word with your girlfriend.’
‘Oh. Right. I’ll...er...I’ll head back to the servants’ cottage.’ Freddie waved a hand and moved out of the hall.
For a moment Miss Bunting and I stood alone, quietly observing each other. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ she asked, at length.
‘Yes.’ I lowered my voice. ‘Send a coded message to London. Tell them my cover was blown and I had to flee. Get them to send you out a replacement as soon as possible.’
She smiled shyly. ‘The office won’t be the same without you...Hilary.’
‘Probably just as well,’ I said. ‘But I’m happy to let some other poor sap take the reins. You and William will have to manage things in the meantime, though.’
‘I’m sure we’ll be able to handle it.’
‘I’d recommend you as replacement, but...well.’ I sucked in my cheeks. ‘A woman as passport control officer. They’d never stomach it.’
She laughed. ‘If only they knew.’ All at once, her face fell. ‘I’m so sorry that I didn’t...that I wasn’t more honest with you about...everything.’ She looked up. ‘Did you...did you really think I might have murdered Steven Catesby?’
‘I didn’t know what to think,’ I told her, honestly. Her eyes dropped again. She was putting a brave face on it, but my suspicions had clearly hurt her feelings. ‘I hoped not, anyway. You didn’t seem...well, you don’t strike me as a murderess.’
‘Will we ever know who really did it?’ she wondered.
‘Tejada was responsible for Mr Talbot’s death. That much I do know. But as for Catesby...’
‘Do you think it might have been Mr Montana who killed him?’
‘It’s possible.’ I shrugged. My gabbled explanation to the general might not have been completely wide of the mark. ‘Probably better if everyone believes that, anyway. Officially, of course, Green will be held to blame. That’s why he has to come with us. The poor fellow. He won’t even get the chance to say goodbye to his friends.’ The other labourers had been instructed by the police to remain in their homes after Green had made his escape and the less they knew about subsequent events the less chance there would be for any gossip to spread. For once, even Alberto would be in the dark.
‘Moses will be very sad to see him go,’ Miss Bunting said.
‘I dare say. But it’s for the best. For him and for me.’
‘It’s been such a dreadful weekend. All these horrible deaths. All these lives ruined. I shall be glad to get home to the legation.’
‘Yes, give my love to the minister,’ I commented, dryly. ‘He’ll be glad to see the back of me.’ I picked up the holdall and unstrapped the top, taking a quick peek inside.
‘You must be careful on that motor-bicycle,’ Miss Bunting said. ‘It looks awfully dangerous.’
‘Don’t worry. Maurice will keep a steady pace.’
‘It’s not safe, though, travelling these roads at night. You hear such stories...’
‘Actually, I’m more concerned about the road blocks than bandits,’ I confessed. ‘But we should be all right. Safety in numbers and all that.’
‘And when you get to Belize, how will you get by? For money I mean?’
I grinned and patted my breast pocket.‘Oh, I have some funds set aside...’
Her eyes glittered in surprise. ‘You don’t mean...?’
I laughed. ‘Well, I wasn’t about to leave it with the general, was I?’ I had slipped the banker’s draft out of Tejada’s top pocket when I had handcuffed him.
Miss Bunting giggled with delight.
‘It should set me up nicely in the Port of Belize, if I decide to stay there.’ A banker’s draft was as good as cash and I would have no trouble converting it. Luckily, most bankers – unlike Mr Talbot – knew not to ask too many questions. ‘And I dare say I can spare a few coppers for Mr Green too, to help him set himself up somewhere. Unless you have any objections?’
‘No, no.’ She beamed again. ‘You deserve it. Crumbs, I wish I had never found that dratted piece of paper. You must think me such a wicked creature, keeping it all from you like that. And even considering the possibility of...of keeping the money.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Miss Bunting. Emily. We’re all human. We’re all open to temptation. The important thing is, you didn’t yield to it.’
‘Unlike you...’ she teased.
‘Well. Only in exceptional circumstances.’ I coughed. ‘In any case, as far as the office is concerned, the money’s already been written off.’ Giles Markham had taken the blame for that and he was beyond the reach of the law.
Miss Bunting turned her attention to more practical matters. ‘What on earth will you do with yourself in British Honduras? Will you be able to find a job?’
‘That remains to be seen. Freddie says he’ll put in a good word. He knows a couple of people in the governor’s office, apparently.’
She smiled at the thought of that. ‘He can be very considerate, sometimes.’
‘Yes, he can. He’s not a complete dolt, you know. And he’s rather sweet on you.’
She nodded seriously. ‘I’m rather sweet on him too. I think he would marry me, if I let him.’
I laughed. ‘You’d make a fine couple.’
She grinned again. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready to settle down yet. I wouldn’t want to give up my career. Not just yet, anyway.’ She glanced down at the bag. ‘We’ll come and visit you, in Belize. The two of us. When all the dust has settled. We wouldn’t want to lose touch.’
‘You won’t,’ I said. ‘And thank you for...well, for keeping my secret too.’
She smiled and kissed me gently on the cheek.
‘We’ve made you a few sandwiches to take with you,’ Susan Weiman declared, handing across a small package in brown paper. ‘You’re bound to get hungry, driving all through the night.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ I said, accepting the gift. ‘It’s a shame we won’t be able to stop for dinner.’ Actually, I was rather pleased to avoid another home cooked meal. Greta had been threatening us with stewed dumplings, according to Maurice. That and the foul coffee would just about have finished me off. The sandwiches were a nice thought, however, though I hesitated to ask what the filling might be. Greta, in any case, had been preoccupied preparing more elaborate food, which she and Isabel were now transporting across to the servants’ cottage. I did not want the “prisoners” to go without sustenance during the night. Mrs Weiman and I followed the servants down the steps out onto the lawn. I was holding the general’s large torch and providing the light for the company as they made their way through the west gate into the kitchen garden and then across to the cottage itself.
Mrs Weiman and I stopped for a moment at the gate, as the two servants made their way inside. Joseph Green was standing on the porch, a revolver tucked awkwardly into the back of his trousers. Moses was at his side, holding his hand, and the two were chatting animatedly. I was too far away to hear what they were saying but even outside the direct glare of the torch and with only minimal light from the lamps in the cottage I could tell it was a touching scene. Green would promise to stay in touch, of course, but realistically the two of them were unlikely ever to see each other again.
‘He’ll miss him terribly,’ Susan Weiman lamented. ‘Poor Moses.’
‘He’s young. He’ll get over it.’ I rested the torch on top of the gate post and slipped the packet of sandwiches into the pocket of my jacket; then I pulled out my cigarette case. ‘And he’s still got Greta.’
Mrs Weiman nodded sadly.
‘Will you ever tell him?’ I asked, grabbing a cigarette and closing up the case. ‘That you’re his real mother?’
‘I don’t think so. Better for him not to know. Though goodn
ess knows how any of us are going to explain this weekend.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that.’ I fumbled for my lighter and lit the cigarette. ‘General Tejada will tell you what to think. Whatever damn fool story he comes up with, just accept it. Don’t do anything to antagonize him. Blame it all on Green and me.’ I pocketed the lighter and took a slow drag.
Mrs Weiman was uncomfortable with that idea. ‘Moses will be very upset, if he hears me saying anything unkind about Joseph.’
‘That can’t be helped.’ I exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘He’ll understand, when he’s a bit older.’
‘And you, losing your job. I can’t help feeling it’s all my fault. This house.’ She shivered, her face a pale glow in the torchlight. ‘I think we must be cursed.’
‘I’ve had quieter weekends,’ I admitted, dryly. ‘But don’t worry about me. I’m used to starting afresh. It’s the others I feel sorry for. Mr and Mrs Montana, did they...have children?’ I hadn’t thought to ask before now.
Mrs Weiman nodded. ‘A boy and a girl. Both adults now.’
‘Lord.’ I took another drag of my cigarette. ‘And Jane Talbot, with her daughter.’ Another unknowing victim. Doubtless the Englishwoman would be halfway home by now. ‘It’s all been one god-awful mess,’ I said.
‘Do you...do you know if George really was murdered?’ Mrs Weiman asked hesitantly.
‘Oh, he was murdered all right. Tejada admitted it.’
‘The general did?’
‘He arranged it all. One of his agents, apparently.’ I still hadn’t worked out who.
‘That horrible man! He really...?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘And...and Steven. Did he...?’
‘No. The general had nothing to do with that. Although I think the two events were probably connected somehow.’
