by Joan Lambert
“To see the animals so early is really a treat,” he said enthusiastically. “They are most active then. I think you will enjoy it immensely, and the fog won’t bother us nearly as much there. We’ll have lunch in a restaurant on the premises; in the afternoon anyone who wishes can venture into Longleat’s truly devilish maze, or you can tour the lovely Manor House.”
Laura brightened. She had looked forward with special enthusiasm to the Safari Park. That would take her mind off babies and baths and night-time assignations, if anything could.
The first stop was the East African preserve, where grazing animals – antelope, camels, zebras and giraffes, even llamas and ostriches, roamed across the savannah-like countryside. The animals looked very much at home and paid little attention to their human visitors. More animals, tapirs and wallabies, pygmy goats and ponies, occupied other enclosures. Some of the wallabies had little ones peeking out of their pouches, which sent Amy into raptures of delight. Laura was glad to see her looking happy again.
They went next to the monkey jungle, where inquisitive and lively monkeys roamed free. Unlike the grazing animals, they were fascinated by their visitors. They climbed all over the bus, peered in the windows and tried to get inside, slapped the windshield wipers up and down, and were generally an amusing nuisance.
The predators – tigers, lions and wolves - also roamed freely, each group in its own habitat. The people viewing them were restricted to cars with the windows rolled up. Laura found the switch apt, but suspected that some of the predators were frustrated by captivity despite the large size of their enclosures and the nearly invisible fences that separated them. Along one side, a steep hillside formed an even more natural-looking barrier. Laura looked up at it as a watchful caretaker opened the heavy gate into the lion enclosure, and blinked in surprise. The road to Longleat was perched at the top of the hill. Here, they could be in Africa; up there, cars full of tourists drove along, oblivious to the wild animals below.
The lions at least didn’t seem frustrated. They lay about, yawning; occasionally they rose laboriously to their feet and ambled around and then lay down again. One more energetic female tried repeatedly to persuade a male to mate but he ignored her until she became so insistent he had to comply. He accomplished the act in seconds, emitted a half-hearted roar, then lay down and slept again.
Not much romance there, Laura mused, unimpressed. The tigers were more interesting, and to her, far more beautiful. Their long bodies were sleek and muscular, and the ornate patterns on their backs rippled as they strolled along. One of them looked directly at her as it passed within inches of the bus, and it seemed to Laura that all the wildness and beauty of the environment it had once inhabited lived in those gleaming yellow eyes. Yes, she thought, the tigers might easily be frustrated by captivity, no matter how well arranged.
She wasn’t sure about the wolves. They were very social, which might foster contentment. Even if they didn’t have to hunt in a pack, the usual rules of behavior were clearly in force. The dominant female was easy to spot since she had pups cavorting around her and milk-heavy teats to feed them. So was the dominant male, whose mere presence seemed to keep all but a few select pack-mates away from the carcass of a deer they had been given. The lowest ranking male stood out, too, and Laura felt sorry for him. His coat was mangy, he looked half starved; his tail hung low between his legs. She wondered what characteristics had determined his lowly fate and if he would ever get a chance to rise above his station.
The pups were a delight. All the members of the pack seemed to look after this precious new generation; they licked them, made sure they didn’t stray too far, tolerated their nips and growls with equanimity, and, Laura thought, provided an excellent model for appropriate parenting. They paid no attention to the bus or anyone in it, except to cast an occasional bored glance in their direction.
Laura suddenly became aware that all around her cameras were clicking. Belatedly, she pulled out her own.
“I got good pictures of the wallabies, too. I’ll send you some,” Amy offered. “The babies peeping out of their mother’s pouches were so dear, aren’t they?”
Laura looked at her more carefully. Amy wasn’t just reacting to the baby animals; she really was her usual cheerful self today. Margaret looked better too, as if some weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Laura was relieved and wondered what had happened to make the difference. As soon as she could, she would get Amy alone again and try to find out.
“Now to the Cellars for lunch,” Alan told them as they came out of the park. “We go through the Victorian kitchens to get there. You’ll find them interesting.”
“And be glad you don’t have to use them,” Violet contributed wryly as she and Laura viewed tools for crushing grain and other ancient implements, which made it abundantly clear that in those days all edibles were prepared not just from scratch but came straight from the fields and barns.
Violet sounded so like herself that Laura flinched. How was she to come up with her usual bantering response, knowing what she did now? She would never be able to talk normally to Violet again until she found out who she was.
In the restaurant, however, a private chat was impossible. The room reverberated with noise. Anything she said would echo all the way across the room or disappear in the confusion of competing sounds. Laura settled for observing her companions instead. Anyone in this group, like Violet, could be hiding a second persona. But who, and how to tell?
Hans was the most likely person, she reflected, recalling the odd interlude with Lady Longtree, but he had apparently been called back to Switzerland. No one seemed to know why or when he would be back. Everyone else was behaving normally, to Laura’s frustration. Dr. Bernstein lectured Alan on the role of animal research in comprehending mental states; William had a faraway look in his eyes that could mean he was rehearsing a piano concerto in his head or that he was taking mental notes on the people around him. The others were acting in character, too, even Lady Longtree, whose eyes missed nothing even as she listened to Amy’s chatter. Watching her, Laura found it harder than ever to make sense of last night’s tryst with Hans.
William fell into step beside her as they headed for the maze, and she asked him what he had thought of the Safari. He smiled amiably.
“The animals were great, but what I really liked was comparing them to the people. Dr. Bernstein would make an excellent baboon, don’t you think? They have such amazing bright red rumps. I suppose that’s what made me think of him. Violet is a tigress or one of the hawks; she looks friendly but watch out for those talons. Amy is an ostrich; she has her head in the sand and thinks everything is always all right, or wants to think so, and Margaret’s a lonely wolf who’s not very high in the pecking order and knows that everyone is out to get her. Let’s see, who are you?”
Laura laughed. So that was what William had been thinking about over lunch! How delightful.
“I’d like to be a beautiful gazelle running free on the plains, but I don’t think I am,” she said wistfully. “Let’s see. I think I am really one of the monkeys who are always investigating everything and making nuisances of themselves.
“How about Claudine?” she asked. “Which one is she?”
“Oh, she’s a tiger,” William answered without hesitation. “Not the one who does the killing, though. She watches and waits, and she does her damndest to get her share. She’s good at it, too.”
Laura shook her head in admiration. William had a lot to teach her. “Who are the dominant wolves?” she asked, aware that she would really like an answer.
“My grandmother is the dominant female, definitely, and I think…” William hesitated but then seemed to make up his mind. “Actually, I don’t think we have a dominant male right now. He might turn up, though,” he added mischievously.
“What do you mean by that?” Laura asked, intrigued.
“I’ll explain later,” William promised as Alan stopped them to give instructions.
“T
his way to the Manor House, that way to the maze,” Alan said, pointing. “We’ll meet at the bus again at about five-thirty.”
“I said I’d find my grandmother at the house,” William told her. “Join us if you want.” Laura was about to go with him when she saw Violet heading for the maze and decided to follow her instead. Surely there was a private spot somewhere among all those hedges where they could talk.
William was already loping away. “I’ll give the maze a try,” she called to him, and hurried after Violet. Her effort was useless. Violet had already vanished, and even if she turned up again, there were no private spots for talking. The hedges were over seven feet tall and two feet thick, which meant that anyone could lurk unseen on the other side, listening avidly.
Laura sneezed, an explosive sneeze that suggested she was allergic to every one of the 16,000 British yews the maze was reputed to contain. More sneezes followed, each more violent than the last. No one would have any trouble finding her, Laura reflected dispiritedly, even if she couldn’t find them.
Where was everyone, anyway? It was eerily silent in here. Maybe the shrubbery absorbed all the usual shrieks and giggles. Or maybe she was the only person who had been dumb enough to come into this ghastly place.
Violet had come in, she reminded herself, but who was Violet really?
Laura shivered convulsively. She had never liked confined places, and the maze was positively claustrophobic. Dense walls of greenery hemmed her in on all sides, even above her, curving high above her head like menacing giants. She couldn’t see over them, through them or even along them, so there was no way to tell where she was going. She couldn’t see anyway. The fog had come back and competed with occasional flashes of sun, making oddly shifting shadows that blinded her. Nothing she looked at was clear, nor did anything seem to stay where it was.
She’d better get out of here before a full-fledged attack of claustrophobia set in. But where was out?
Just retrace your steps and go back to the entrance, Laura lectured herself, but she was wrong about that, too. The entrance wasn’t where it should have been. She felt the first stirrings of panic. The maze went on for more than two miles, she remembered reading. She might never get out of something that long!
Taking a deep, calming breath, she dredged her memory for everything she had ever read or heard about mazes. All she could come up with was a long-ago friend’s remark that turning only to the left was supposed to work. She decided to try but found only repeated dead ends. Turning to the right didn’t work either. Laura plodded on, her steps dragging. Surely, if she just kept walking, she would come out eventually. She wasn’t sure she believed it.
Two kids wearing baggy pants passed her. Laura opened her mouth to ask if they knew the way out, but they were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t even see her. She followed them anyway. At least they were company. They went around one bend, then another, and then she lost them in the thickening fog.
There was someone behind her, too. She could hear the footsteps clearly. She turned to look but no one was visible. She would just stay where she was until the person caught up, Laura decided.
The footsteps stopped when she stopped. She waited for them to start up again; then she gave up and kept going. The footsteps resumed. Laura frowned. Was it possible she was being followed even in here?
Probably it was just another befuddled tourist trying to find the way out, she reassured herself. But why then, did the footsteps stop and start when she did?
She decided to test them. First she sped up, then she slowed down, and then she stopped. The footsteps mimicked her pattern.
Someone really was following her! Fear shot through Laura, and her heart began to beat wildly. How could she escape her pursuer in this impenetrable labyrinth of paths that went nowhere? She couldn’t even hide. The hedges were much too thick and prickly for her to squeeze into them. She sneezed again, reminding her that she couldn’t even be quiet. All she could do was walk in meaningless patterns, sneezing uncontrollably, until whoever it was back there caught up with her and… and what? Stuck a knife in her back?
Panic-stricken now, Laura started to run. She heard her pursuer running after her; then, unaccountably, the footsteps stopped. She blundered on. Maybe he had given up.
As she rounded the next corner, a foot shot through the bush in front of her. Laura saw it too late, tripped over it and crashed to the ground. Her palms scraped painfully against the hard ground and the wind whooshed out of her lungs. Gasping, she fought for air.
A large form loomed over her, arm raised to strike. Laura scrabbled away from it, but was brought to a halt by the hedges. Cowering, she covered her head with her hands and waited for the blow to fall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Running feet pounded toward Laura. Abruptly, the looming figure disappeared. Then she heard Violet’s voice. “Laura, are you all right?”
Could it have been Violet who had tripped her, Violet who had stood over her? But who then had run? Laura wanted to weep with the futility of trying to figure it all out. Someone was turning her life into a nightmare, but who?
“Just leave me alone,” she moaned, unaware that she had spoken aloud. Violet knelt beside her and took her hands from her face. Her fingers were busy exploring for… for what? Broken bones?
“Laura,” Violet said firmly. “I need you to answer me and tell me if you are all right. Does anything hurt? Or are you just winded?”
Laura didn’t answer the question, Instead, to her surprise, she raised herself on one elbow and whispered: “Oh Violet, who are you anyway?”
Violet swore under her breath. “Damn, I was afraid of that.” Laura saw her look around carefully, checking for listeners, but it was impossible to see much in the fog. When she spoke again her voice was very low.
“I really am Violet,” she said into Laura’s ear. “If I could, I would tell you more about who I am but I cannot, at least not in here. Laura, can you trust me enough to get you out of here? Then I will tell you what I can. This is not the right spot for private conversations.”
“So I concluded earlier when I decided to confront you,” Laura agreed, trying not to sob with relief. Maybe after all, Violet was still her friend.
“Just get me out of this beastly place and you’ll be my hero for life,” she added fervently, glad that she sounded more like herself. “And no, I’m not hurt. Just furious – at you, at everybody, and the whole world.”
She sneezed again, and Violet rolled her eyes. “If you want to keep on playing detective, which I wish you would not, you’d better get allergy shots,” she advised. “No one has any trouble following you.”
“Everyone seems to be doing that,” Laura replied crossly. “Three of them at least, I think. You’re the only one who ran the other way.”
Violet sighed heavily. “So that was it. But not here, outside.”
In a shorter time than Laura had believed possible, they were out of the maze. She felt like cheering. Even better, the fog wasn’t nearly as thick out here. To be able to see what was around her again was sheer joy.
Never, ever, under any circumstances, Laura vowed, would she try that or any other maze again. She was not cut out for that kind of exploration.
“Now for one of those infamous cups of tea,” Violet said, after a glance at Laura’s strained face. “There’s an outdoor café we can try. It’s relatively private, at least.”
“Tea sounds magnificent,” Laura agreed. “So does sitting down - especially in a place where there aren’t any yews.”
“No bushes at all,” Violet concurred. “We don’t want listening ears.”
They took their trays to an isolated table that was open on all sides so they could see anyone coming before he or she got too close. Still, Violet looked around carefully to make sure no one was in earshot before she spoke.
“I am sorry I’ve had to deceive you,” she said quietly. “I had no choice. I still have no choice. I can only ask you to believe that altho
ugh I am not quite who I said I was, I am Violet, and I am female to boot, and I hope I am still your friend. Other than that I can’t say much except that I am on your side. I have the same objective, to find out what is wrong on this tour. That is my job. And something is wrong, something that involves a very sophisticated criminal organization.”
Violet’s eyes scanned the area again, and Laura had to lean close to hear her next words. “We believe one or more of the tour members are in league with the organization but we don’t yet know who they are. We are getting close, though, very close, and to say too much now could spoil everything.”
“We?” Laura was intrigued. So much about the way Violet had acted made sense if she really was a kind of private detective. But could she be believed? Laura decided she could. Otherwise, that blow would have fallen and she might not be here at all.
Violet nodded. “I can’t tell you much about the people I work for, except that they are legitimate and experienced. One of them was keeping an eye on you – or trying,” she added in a lighter tone. “He was becoming quite frustrated with your tendency to sneak about at night and vanish into alleys and other unlikely spots.”
“You mean one of them was protecting me and not just following me?” Laura was astonished. “But which one? And why?”
“You already know why,” Violet replied tartly. “Someone doesn’t like you because you found a baby and insist on snooping and foiling their best-laid plans. My advice is for you to stop, but I fear that even if you agreed it might be too late. These are not trusting people, and their instinct is to get rid of anyone who gets in their way.
“As for which person was protecting you, you have already bumped into him once before, I believe.”
Laura stared at her, dumbfounded. “The elegant trench coat man!” she breathed. And she had been so mad at him, poor man.
