by SL Beaumont
The Carlswick Treasure
By SL Beaumont
Copyright © 2015 SL Beaumont
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9780473316198
Paperback Writers Publishing
Auckland, New Zealand
For my boys
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse’s feet,
Don’t go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street,
Them that asks no questions isn’t told a lie,
Watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
Five-and-twenty ponies, trotting in the dark,
Brandy for the Parson, Baccy for the Clerk,
Laces for a lady, letters for a spy,
And watch the wall, my darling, while the Gentlemen go by!
From Smugglers’ Song by Rudyard Kipling
Chapter 1
Midnight, New Year’s Eve
The beach was in darkness and the tide was coming in fast. A lone gull screeched a warning cry from high on the cliff. Panic threatened to overwhelm her. On the far side of the bay, near the old lighthouse, Stephanie could make out two beams of light. She pointed them out to her cousin Matt and together they began to run, their feet sloshing through the water and their flashlight beams bouncing in front of them.
Twice she stumbled in the uneven, shifting sand but both times she caught herself. Matt’s rugby fitness was paying off. He lengthened his stride and began racing ahead of her. Despite the wind, she heard a noise and glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, behind them she could see two more flashlights. The anger she had felt since receiving his message suddenly gave way to fear. They were being followed.
Nearing the lighthouse, she glimpsed a small speedboat on the shoreline on the far side of the rocks. The waves rolling onto the beach were rocking it from side to side. Stephanie thought she heard crying but the sound was discarded by the wind before she could locate it. It was probably only the gulls roosting in the cliffs, calling to one another.
She rounded the end of the beach hot on Matt’s heels and clambered over the slippery wet rocks, momentarily glancing behind her again to see where their pursuers were. They were gaining. She pushed herself forward and grabbed Matt’s hand as he pulled her up over the final set of rocks. She started to climb towards the lighthouse, using her hands to support her on the steep grassy bank.
“Steph. Look!” Matt shouted.
She followed his gaze down to the beach. The boat was now in the water and a man was pulling at the outboard motor trying to start the engine. Behind him, huddled on a seat, she could just make out another smaller figure.
“Toby,” she screamed, changing direction and sliding down the bank towards the beach. She dropped her flashlight in the process and bent down to collect it as Matt reached the water’s edge. Suddenly the engine roared to life and the boat started to move away from the beach.
“You bastard. What about Toby?” Matt shouted. He stood with his legs apart and fists clenched, his fury palpable.
Stephanie caught up to him. The cold wind whipped thick strands of her long dark hair around her face. She impatiently pushed them aside as she stared out into the dark water at the boat, illuminated only by the silvery glow from the full moon and the beams from their flashlights.
“Thought I told you to come alone, Stephanie,” the man on the boat yelled. The boat rocked dangerously as he pulled Toby to his feet and pushed a life ring over his head. The young boy shrieked in terror as the man suddenly threw him overboard. Stephanie screamed as her little brother hit the water and momentarily disappeared into the trough of a wave.
Matt quickly shed his jacket, toed off his boots and dived into the water swimming towards Toby, who was bobbing in the waves. Stephanie pulled her overcoat tightly around her and watched helplessly as the boat turned and headed out to sea. Seconds later, Matt strode back out of the surf with Toby in his arms. She rushed to them, taking the cold, frightened boy in her arms and smothering him with kisses, all the while murmuring, “Thank God.” Toby hooked his arms and legs around her and clung like a monkey.
A loud bang followed by a gurgling noise, startled them. They looked up to see that the boat had stopped dead about a hundred metres off the beach. The engine choked and spluttered as the man tried to start it again. Matt swore under his breath and turned and ran back into the water.
“Matt, no,” Stephanie shouted. But Matt was already swimming towards the stricken boat.
Toby was shivering. Stephanie gently set him down and pulled the life ring down over his hips and legs and wrapped him in her coat. As she fumbled in her jeans pocket for her phone a noise behind them caught her attention. She had forgotten about the men following them. Terrified, she stood with her back to the ocean, protecting Toby with her body. But the people sliding down the grassy bank towards her were not her enemies. She breathed a sigh of relief. James and Andy.
“Help Matt,” she said, looking up at them.
“Where is he?” James asked, flicking his long fringe out of his eyes. He ruffled Toby’s hair and ran the back of his fingers gently down Stephanie’s cheek.
“There.” She pointed with her flashlight.
They looked to the water to see Matt clamber aboard the speedboat and try to wrestle control from the man. They were evenly matched for size, both tall and broad-shouldered, but Matt had the element of surprise.
“Are you okay?” James asked, his eyes full of concern. She nodded and leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her and Toby.
Andy ran a hand through his blond curls and cursed under his breath. He quickly pulled off his boots, coat and scarf. He dived into the waves and began swimming towards the two men fighting on the boat. They were exchanging blows, each staggering back, but somehow keeping their balance, until the man delivered a hard punch to Matt’s stomach which doubled him over, followed by an uppercut to his jaw. Matt tumbled backwards over the side of the boat. Stephanie screamed his name as he hit the water with a loud splash and didn’t resurface.
James dumped his jacket and boots on the sand beside Stephanie and raced into the water to join Andy. Stephanie held Toby tight.
The outboard motor suddenly restarted and within seconds the boat disappeared out to sea. On the horizon Stephanie could just see the lights of a much larger vessel.
Time slowed. A cloud passed in front of the moon, plunging the beach into further darkness. In the distance, Stephanie heard the wail of police sirens. She silently urged them to hurry.
She could hear Andy and James desperately calling Matt’s name. The wind was carrying their voices, but n
ow through the dark churning water she couldn’t see them either. After what seemed like an eternity the cloud passed and the beach was once again bathed in the glow from the moon.
About twenty metres away, Stephanie saw a large shape wash up on the beach. It took her several seconds to comprehend what she was seeing. She gently released Toby and stumbled towards it. Matt was lying face down in the sand, water lapping around his waist and tugging him back into the ocean with each new pull of the tide.
“He’s here, he’s here,” she screamed, tucking her hands under his arms and with an enormous effort pulling him free of the water and rolling him over. He wasn’t breathing. Her first aid training kicked in. Falling to her knees, she rolled him onto his side, stuck her finger in his slack mouth and pulled out a hunk of seaweed. Letting him fall onto his back, she began chest compressions—one, two, three. She tilted his chin and pinched his nose, breathing into his mouth—one, two, three. She repeated the process as Toby crawled over and snuggled beside her, whimpering quietly.
Andy and James emerged from the ocean, exhausted and shivering.
“He’s not breathing,” she shouted, panic evident in her voice.
“Keep going,” Andy urged, dropping onto the sand opposite her and placing his fingers on the pulse point in Matt’s neck. “I’ll take over when you get tired. James, call an ambulance.”
“Already on it.” James retrieved his mobile from his jacket and dialled. He immediately started speaking to the dispatcher. He sank down beside Stephanie and pulled Toby into his arms. “It’s all right, I’ve got you,” he whispered with chattering teeth to the frightened boy, who was watching his sister, wide-eyed.
“Call Mum,” Stephanie asked between breaths. She was tiring and the cold was beginning to seep into her bones.
Matt wasn’t responding. With Andy’s help, Stephanie rolled him back over onto his side to check his airway again. More seawater spilled from his mouth. She ran her hand gently over his short hair and checked his mouth. There were no further obstructions. She rolled him back and continued to do CPR.
“Come on, Matt,” she urged. “Breathe.”
Chapter 2
Three Weeks Earlier
Monday 5th December
New College, Oxford University
Stephanie’s breakfast hit the porcelain with a splash.
“Ugh,” she moaned, leaning against the wall of the toilet cubicle adjacent to the tutorial rooms at New College, breathing deeply, tears stinging her eyes as she tried to calm herself. Several minutes earlier Lucy had wandered casually into the tutorial room, dropping the morning copy of the Daily Mail on the table with such a thud, that everyone seated around the long table looked up.
“Looks like the tour is going well,” she said as she slid into her seat.
Stephanie glanced at the newspaper. Across the front page, a photo was splashed of James, Stephanie’s boyfriend, falling out of a notorious London nightclub hand in hand with the tall willowy singer of the girl band Angels & Rockers. James was lead guitarist of The Fury, the support act on tour with them. The headline disingenuously read, ‘The Angel of Fury’. The look on James’s handsome face was one of surprise. Stephanie felt the bile rise into her throat as Lucy smiled sweetly at her from across the table.
“Excuse me, Eric,” Stephanie had ground out to their tutor as she bolted from the room. She only just reached the bathroom across the hall before losing the contents of her stomach. She leaned against the wall of the toilet cubicle until the nausea subsided. Sucking in some deep breaths, she walked over to the hand basin, washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face.
She glanced up into the mirror above the basin. The face that looked back at her was pale and heartbroken, her deep blue eyes full of tears. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her long dark hair into a high ponytail and tugged her red hoodie back on over a black t-shirt emblazoned with the cover art from The Fury’s first single. She prepared to return to the tutorial room and do her best to ignore Lucy. She pushed the door open and noticed her tutor Eric leaning on the wall of the hallway opposite, hands thrust into his jeans pockets. He pushed himself off the wall, as she stepped into the hallway.
“You okay, Steph?” he asked, concern etched on his face behind his round wire-rimmed glasses.
Stephanie forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get back to class, eh?”
“I’ve set some reading and an essay and sent everyone on their way,” he replied. “I think you need a coffee or maybe something stronger.”
She took another deep breath. “Coffee always works. It’s a bit early for anything else. Let me get my stuff.”
Together they walked out of New College, past the historic chapel and through a side gate in the old wall and down the road towards the city centre. It was one of those rare beautiful winter’s days—crisp yet sunny, although they still needed overcoats, gloves and scarves. They walked in companionable silence for several moments. Eric was taller than Stephanie, over six foot, very skinny and bookish looking. She had to walk a little faster than normal to keep up with his loping stride.
“Do you want to talk about the photo in the paper?” he asked, running a hand through his mop of unkempt ginger hair.
“I’m not sure,” Stephanie replied. “I need to talk to James—there may be an innocent explanation. You know what the paparazzi are like.”
“Mmm…” Eric replied.
“I know that sounds lame,” Stephanie said. “But I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. He would do that for me.”
“So, how long have you been, uh, dating, what’s his name?”
“James. Since the summer. I had just arrived from New Zealand and met him on the train on my way to Carlswick.”
“So not long then.”
“Long enough for something like this to hurt,” she responded. “We have been texting daily and skyping several times a week while he’s been on tour in Europe. I thought he was finding the separation hard too, but apparently not.”
Just then her phone chimed with an incoming text. Pulling it from her pocket, she tapped the screen to open the message.
I can explain. Not what it looks like. When can I call? J
Stephanie couldn’t help but smile.
“Photo taken out of context, right?” Eric said.
Stephanie frowned and quickly tapped a reply to James.
“I’ll call him later. Although we haven’t been seeing each other for long, we’ve been through a lot,” she explained to Eric as they walked. “Long story, but I discovered that a painting hanging in the library at his house was a piece of looted Nazi art.”
Eric stopped walking and looked at her, his eyes wide. “What?”
“There’s more. James’s brother Alex was trying to sell the painting and he kidnapped me and locked me in a wine cellar.” Stephanie grinned at Eric’s shocked expression. “Obviously, I escaped, but he did too, with the painting and a large amount of cash and other items. Initially I thought James was in on it, but it turns out he wasn’t.”
“God, how shocking. How did you realise that the painting was stolen by the Nazis?” Eric asked as they continued walking.
“Well, my great-aunt died in suspicious circumstances at the start of World War II and during the holidays I was reading her journal. One thing led to another and I found a list of paintings stolen by the Nazis and I recognised one that was hanging in James’s home. When I looked into it further it was actually one and the same,” she explained. “Anyway, enough about me, I’m not very good with British accents yet, where are you from?”
“Good Welsh mining stock, me.” Eric slipped easily into a broad Welsh accent.
Stephanie grinned at him. “Wow—now that’s an accent.”
“Yeah well, you learn to tone it down fairly quickly when you attend boarding school,” Eric replied with a grimace.
“Sounds like there is a story there,” Stephanie replied.
Eric shook his head. “Nah, just poor boy m
ade good.”
Eric and Stephanie walked past the Sheldonian Theatre and Bodleian Library—still under hoardings from the major refurbishment taking place.
“Here, the coffee at this bookstore is always good,” Eric said, holding open the door of the popular student hangout. Stephanie entered and wound her way among the tables of new release and best-selling novels, towards the carpeted staircase at the rear of the shop.
They climbed the stairs to the first floor and ordered their drinks at the small café which took up the front half of the floor. The rear contained shelves of history, anthropology and geography books. They sat at an empty table by the window. Their coffees had just been delivered when Stephanie’s old friend Michael arrived. “Hey. There you are. One of the girls in your study group said you were headed this way. ” He pulled a chair across from an adjacent table and sat down heavily, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up his nose. His brown hair was neatly parted and in his worn jeans, scruffy Converse sneakers and black duffle coat, he looked every inch a student. He nodded to Eric and turned his attention to Stephanie.
Stephanie grinned at him. “Hey. Eric, do you know Michael?” she asked. “We’ve known each other for ever. His family lives next to my grandmother in Carlswick.”
Eric leaned across the table and shook Michael’s hand.
“We need to talk about your great-uncle’s memoir, Steph. I was home at the weekend and I finally finished it. I know what caused the feud between your family and the Knox family. You are never going to believe this,” Michael said.
Chapter 3
Monday 5th December
London
James threw the newspaper at Andy.
“Bloody paparazzi. Steph is going to kill me,” he said.
“Dude, it does look kinda incriminating y’know,” Andy replied, putting the paper to one side. He broke into a teasing grin as he unfolded his jeans-clad legs and reached for his guitar. “Although I’d be more worried about what’s online, if I were you.”
