The Carlswick Treasure (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 2)

by SL Beaumont

  “I had to give the jewellery to Alex in exchange for Toby. I didn’t think he would believe an empty box—I figured it was the jewellery that he was after, especially after the incident with those guys at the cemetery.”

  “What guys at the cemetery? Hang on, we’ll come back to that. So you gave Alex the jewellery but kept this?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t mean to,” she said. “But Michael has been trying to decode it.”

  Max smiled at her. “Brilliant. Now tell me about the cemetery.”

  By the time Stephanie had recalled the events over Christmas, Vince was leaning in the doorway listening.

  “I have to say this, Stephanie, you are nothing if not resourceful,” he said.

  “Yeah, but me being resourceful nearly got Matt killed,” she said.

  “No way, that was not your doing. That one is all on Alex,” Max said, moving to put his arms around her. After a few moments he released her. “Come on, let’s have a cuppa and work out the details for tomorrow night. Vince, put a call through to Marks. We need to update him.”

  Stephanie followed them into the living room. “There’s one other thing,” she said. Max paused and gave her a ‘what now’ look. “Michael’s done some research and thinks that the numbers on the paper are map co-ordinates leading to a town in France called Epernay.”

  “He could be right. Can I see the numbers?” Vince asked.

  Max handed the piece of paper to Vince who sat down at the laptop sitting open on the dining table.

  “Now about tomorrow’s meet with Alex—we will go early and position ourselves out of sight. I am still hopeful that Marks will be able to arrange for some local back up,” Max explained. “I suggest that you head downtown to the marina around four pm and then work your way back up to the bar. It’s actually only two blocks over from here so I don’t want him working out where we are staying, in case things don’t go exactly to plan.”

  Stephanie nodded.

  They chatted a little longer and Stephanie began yawning. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep and tomorrow morning we’ll go and take a look at a couple of Gaudi’s other masterpieces. One in particular will blow your mind,” Max said.

  Chapter 30

  Tuesday 3rd January

  The morning was bright and sunny, although there was a prevailing cool sea breeze.

  Max and Stephanie walked along Passeig de Gracia to another of Anton Gaudi’s stunning creations, the Casa Mila. The enormous apartment building wrapped around a corner, its façade all curving contours, decorated with unusual wrought iron balconies and cave-like windows of differing sizes and shapes. Above its sloping attic level on the roof, many bizarre stone figures could be seen looking benignly down on the street below.

  “The building is known locally as La Pedrera or the stone quarry. It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage site,” Max explained, as they joined the queue for tickets to enter the amazing structure.

  Stephanie was speechless as they passed through a large curved wrought iron gate at the building’s entrance and along a low roofed cave-like foyer into an inner courtyard with painted walls of faded frescoes. They spent an hour viewing two of the apartments in the building. Gaudi had designed the layout of each to be different. But it was the flat roof that astonished Stephanie the most. It was open in several places, letting the light into the courtyards below. Dotted everywhere across the roof were chimney figures, some looking like stone monsters complete with faces.

  After lunch they caught a taxi to what Max described as Gaudi’s legacy, the awe-inspiring Sagrada Familia.

  “Work began on this church in 1882,” he said as Stephanie tipped her head back trying to take in the whole structure in front of her. She had never seen anything like it. The church took up a whole city block and dwarfed everything around it, its highest spires reaching far into the sky. “When it’s finished it will have eighteen towers in total.”

  “It’s just spectacular. Having seen the two apartment buildings you can really see his mark here with the elaborate carvings and unusual shapes,” Stephanie commented. “It’s very Gothic looking, isn’t it?”

  They spent a couple of hours wandering in and around the church and climbing part way up one of the towers to admire the view of Barcelona from its unusual curving balconies.

  “I wonder if it will ever be finished,” Stephanie mused, taking a final look up at the incredible Nativity transept.

  “Don’t know. Some say that it should be left unfinished as a monument to Gaudi,” Max replied. “Whatever happens, few of us are ever able to leave a legacy such as this.”

  Max and Stephanie returned to the apartment to get ready for her meeting with Alex. Vince had left straight after breakfast and still hadn’t returned. Max pulled Stephanie into a firm embrace.

  “Remember—I will be really close. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he reassured her.

  “It’s fine, Dad,” Stephanie said, patting her jeans pocket, where the folded piece of paper containing the code resided.

  “I’ll leave first.” Max released her and opened the heavy wooden door, stepping onto the busy pedestrian sidewalk. Stephanie waited the agreed ten minutes before she too heaved open the door and stepped out into the winter sunshine. She pulled her sunglasses out of her hair, wrapped the strap of her messenger bag across her body and began walking away from the apartment. Just like any other teenage traveller, or at least that was how she hoped she looked.

  She wandered all the way down the avenue stopping to look in shop windows and checked her reflection to see that she wasn’t being watched or followed, but really, who knew? She checked her watch, four-thirty pm, more than enough time to pop into Zara and trawl through their racks of clothes. Twenty minutes later, having purchased a t-shirt, she paused inside the doorway and ascertained that no one was obviously watching the shop. She walked out confidently and continued her stroll down towards the marina. Her mobile vibrated in her pocket signalling an incoming call. She retrieved it and glanced at the caller ID. James. She hesitated, wondering whether she should take it or just call him after it was over. Her desire to talk to him prompted her to tap ‘accept’. She put the phone to her ear.

  “James.”

  “What the hell are you doing in Barcelona? What’s going on?”

  “How did you know where I am?”

  “Michael. You should know by now that he can’t keep anything secret,” James replied. “And you shouldn’t answer a question with a question.”

  “Dad thought a couple of days away would be good for me. In fact, I’ve just bought a cool t-shirt at Zara,” she said, wincing at her omissions. “And Dad and I spent this morning touring some of the Gaudi sites. He was a genius. Have you been here?”

  “Is my brother in Barcelona?”

  Stephanie sighed. “James, I can’t tell you anything just yet,” she said.

  “You are going to do something foolish, I just know it,” he replied. “I can’t believe that your father is being this irresponsible.”

  Stephanie laughed.

  “What?” James snarled down the phone.

  “It’s just ironic, you calling Dad irresponsible and not the other way around,” she giggled.

  “I just can’t understand why you can’t let this go, especially after what happened to Toby and Matt.”

  “It’s because of what happened to them,” she said, immediately becoming serious again. “If we can catch him, then there will be justice and Toby and Matt will not have been hurt in vain.”

  “Aw, Steph,” James replied, his voice immediately softened. “I can be on a plane tonight.”

  “No need,” she replied. “All going to plan, I should be flying home tomorrow.”

  Stephanie filled in the next couple of hours wandering around the marina. She joined a number of other tourists strolling along the boardwalk and crossed the footbridge to look around the little shops on the wharf. She paused to admire a number of super yachts moored there. At six forty-five pm sh
e turned a corner to arrive at the bar Alex had suggested. It was at the edge of a tree-lined square adjacent to a busy road. The square was filled with umbrella-clad outdoor tables and chairs from each of the four bars and restaurants lining the square. The last rays of sunshine filtered through the bare branches of the large plane trees throwing dappled light onto the cobble stones. Stephanie looked around the restaurant names before finding Bar Sardina. It appeared to be an Irish bar, if the dual flags of Spain and Ireland fluttering from poles either side of the entrance were any indication. There were a few outside tables already occupied, but she found an empty one at the edge of the footpath and sat with her back to the bar so that she could command a view of three of the four possible approaches to the square. A barman returned quickly with her order of Kas Limon, and as she was paying him she became aware of the sound of loud voices and sirens.

  Several people at neighbouring tables exchanged anxious glances. Stephanie watched in disbelief as one by one four police motorcycles screeched to a halt at the intersection of the two roads adjacent to the square and began setting up a makeshift road block diverting traffic away from the direction that the crowd noise was coming from. More sirens and police cars followed. Angry voices, now intermingled with car horns, drew nearer. The other patrons at the bar and adjoining restaurants began to rise and move away from their tables. Stephanie looked around anxiously.

  She rose to leave the table when a familiar voice spoke in her ear. “Stephanie, not a nice situation for a young woman on her own,” Alex sneered.

  “What?” she said, beginning to rise. Alex towered over her. His dark hair was longer than she remembered and he had grown a goatee beard. But despite the beard, the resemblance to James was still there. He was dressed casually in dark trousers and an open necked shirt with a light coloured suit jacket. He clamped a hand down on her shoulder, forcing her back into her chair.

  “Now give it to me,” he demanded.

  The first of the protesters appeared in her peripheral vision, chanting in Spanish and waving placards. One approached the first car at the police barricade and leapt on the bonnet and began shouting. The crowd surged. Drivers, terrified, abandoned their vehicles and began running in the opposite direction. The four motorcycle police officers were quickly overwhelmed as the protesters began rocking the now empty cars from side to side. A loud cheer went up as one eventually tipped onto its side.

  “Hurry,” Alex urged.

  “Let me stand, it’s in my pocket,” Stephanie said. She was breathing rapidly and her heart accelerated. Her eyes roamed the crowd, but there were no familiar faces and none of Marks’s local police seemed to be coming their way. Their attention was firmly on what appeared to be turning from a peaceful protest into a full blown riot.

  Another cheer went up from the crowd, this time as an abandoned car was set alight. Stephanie could hear the roar of the flames and almost feel the heat of the blaze that was taking hold and threatening the parked cars lining the road. The situation was getting out of control. Alex dragged her roughly to her feet. “Now,” he said, raising his hand as if to hit her.

  She flinched and pulled the folder paper from her jeans pocket and handed it to him.

  Alex unfolded the piece of paper, turning it over in his hands. He smiled. “Now that wasn’t so difficult,” he said and shoved her hard with both hands, so that she sprawled against the table at which she had been sitting, knocking it and the neighbouring one over.

  A police van screeched into the intersection, its back doors opening before it had stopped. Twenty or so officers dressed in full riot gear leapt from inside, batons waving. Another van pulled up and its officers alighted armed with what Stephanie thought were rifles. She could see Alex disappearing into the sea of people.

  “No,” she cried. “Stop him.”

  She pulled herself up and started after him, but as she rounded the corner, she collided with one of the riot police. She tried to push past him. Over his shoulder she could see Alex walking very fast towards a black car idling half way along the now largely deserted block. The officer didn’t budge, so she tried to duck under his outstretched arm and was rewarded with a baton to the side of her head.

  The footpath rose very quickly to meet her. She curled herself into the foetal position covering her face as people stepped over her. Crawling between people’s legs, she found a doorway and leaned back against it as the world around her went mad. She put her hand to the side of her head where the baton had connected and felt blood, warm and sticky. She pulled her mobile from her pocket and speed-dialled her father.

  “Steph, where are you?” he answered immediately.

  “In the middle of the riot. I’m hurt, Dad,” she said.

  “Can you tell me your exact location?” he asked, his voice calm, but at the same time she could hear the strain in it.

  “Opposite the bar, in a doorway,” she replied.

  The sound of breaking glass was all around her. Using the wall behind her, she forced herself to stand. Immediately her eyes began to sting and weep. The police armed with rifles were firing tear gas canisters into the crowd. They had formed a barrier across the intersection and were being pelted with missiles from the protestors. But the crowd was slowly being herded out of the square and further down the street.

  Stephanie wiped at her eyes, which only made them feel worse. She was about to slip out of her hiding place and try to meet up with her father when she heard him calling her name.

  “I’m here,” she shouted and was caught up in his arms a few seconds later.

  “Ouch,” she said into his shoulder as he squeezed her hard. Max released her and held her at arm’s length by the shoulders, looking her over.

  “God, Steph. Let’s get you back to the apartment. I am so sorry, another protest march was never factored into our plans,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it gently against her head.

  “I’m sure it looks much worse than it is, Dad,” she said. “But I lost Alex and he’s got the paper with the code.”

  “Don’t worry about that for now. Come on,” Max said.

  Together they crossed the square in the opposite direction to the rioters and slipped around the corner. Within a block they had put the worst of the noise behind them.

  “Where were you? I tried to stall Alex for as long as I could,” she asked.

  “I know. I saw him arrive and I was about to come out when the police appeared and forced everyone back. I couldn’t get to you. Did you see Vince?”

  Stephanie shook her head. “What happened to the local police that Marks promised?”

  “Don’t know. I expect the riot changed everything.” Max frowned and, keeping his arm firmly around her, led them cautiously back to the apartment.

  “Steph,” a voice called as they were about to enter the building.

  James was walking towards them. His face broke into a wide grin when he saw Stephanie. She too couldn’t help but return his smile. Despite everything that was unresolved between them, she closed the distance between them, not breaking eye contact and took his hand, reaching up on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Hi you,” he whispered back, before releasing her hand and straightening up to shake hands with Max. As he stepped back, he took a good look at Stephanie’s face and his smile disappeared. “Bloody hell, Steph. I just knew it. What the hell has happened?”

  “I’m okay—I just got caught up in a protest march. It looks much worse than it is,” she replied, wincing as she touched the wound on her head. James’s expression darkened at her discomfort.

  “Max?” James asked through clenched teeth, looking over her head at her father.

  “Let’s talk inside. How did you find us?” Max asked.

  “Your secretary told me where you usually stay in Barcelona,” he said. “I know you are after my brother and I have some valuable info that I wanted to share
in person. This is as much my fight, as yours.”

  “You’re right, James,” Max agreed holding the door open for them both.

  “I’m going to have a quick shower and change into fresh clothes, and then we’ll talk. Don’t start without me,” she instructed her father. “I know what you’re like.”

  A little while later she joined them in the living room. Her hair was wet and she had covered her scrapes and bruises. The skin above her left eye had puffed up and was beginning to turn from red to purple, and the grazes on the palms of her hands still stung from her fall. James scowled as she sat gingerly beside him on the sofa.

  “First, tell me what happened here,” he said. Stephanie filled him in.

  “Bloody Alex did this to you. I will kill him,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Not all of it, I got in the way of the riot police. I have one of them to thank for the black eye,” she replied. James shook his head, his lip curled in disgust.

  “Yeah, but he would have chosen that bar to meet you knowing full well that there would be a diversion which would allow him to get away,” he replied.

  “Yes, he was smarter than we were. I didn’t even factor in the possibility of another protest happening today,” Max said.

  Vince arrived back at the apartment looking slightly dishevelled.

  “I bloody well lost him,” he said. “I was on his tail until he managed to squeeze his car through a road block.”

  “So you were in a car, not on foot?” Stephanie asked, surprised.

  “Yeah. I could see that he was going to disappear into the crowd and use the confusion of the protest to get away, so I ran to the car and managed to intercept him at the next corner. Well, he wasn’t driving. It was someone who knew the roads better than me,” he finished.

  “I’m sorry,” Stephanie said. “I tried to stall him. But he got away.”

  “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I just couldn’t get to you through the police cordon, so I went after Alex instead,” Vince said looking uncomfortable.