The Kaiser's Gold

by Bill Kitson

  ‘That’s lucky.’

  ‘Luck has absolutely nothing to do with it. I put the stepping stones there years ago, with Zeke and Stan Calvert to help me. It was better than having to walk two miles to the nearest crossing point.’

  Within minutes we were back in the forest. Brian explained more of what he intended to do. I have to admit that his calm in the face of the danger threatening Barbara and Eve did much to settle my nerves, and as I listened to his scheme I realized that the planning was no accident. His military forbears plus the training given him by the US Army had prepared him for just such an event as this. Had Bartlett or Ursula Moore realized the calibre of the man they were up against, they would have stayed well clear of him. Brian outlined every detail of the plan, like a general briefing his troops before a battle, which in some sense I guess summed the situation up perfectly.

  One aspect of the scheme caused me to stop in my tracks and stare at him in surprise. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘I think we should go to the police; but not until the girls are safe.’

  ‘But won’t that mean telling them about the treasure?’

  ‘Of course it will, but not yet. Anyway, I’ve decided against keeping the gold. I don’t need the money, and it was stolen to begin with. What I do want is to get Babs and Eve to safety and for the murderers to be brought to justice. But first we’ll go and check out things at the Hall. I want to be sure the girls haven’t been harmed. Your job will be to watch my back.’

  Having seen him in action I doubted whether Brian needed anyone to watch out for him, but I agreed to what I felt sure would be a sinecure. When we reached the Hall, Brian instructed me to drive past the main gates and stop after a couple of hundred yards. I had visions of having to scale that wall and battle with the undergrowth again, but he headed straight for the heavy wooden door set into the wall that Eve and I had tried, without success. ‘It’s locked, Brian.’

  He turned and held up a large key. ‘One of the advantages of owning the place.’ Once inside, I was relieved to see a narrow gravel path flanked by turf. ‘Stick to the grass,’ Brian ordered. Even I had worked that out.

  We reached the building via a route that differed totally from the one I’d used previously. ‘Stay here and keep your eyes and ears open. Don’t move or make a noise. Remember, sound travels a long way at night.’ Brian was speaking in a whisper, and as I strained to hear any further orders, I suddenly realized I was alone.

  I’m not sure how long I waited, listening and watching, but it seemed an age before he reappeared. I was able to both see and hear him long before he reached me. That alone should have prepared me for bad news. ‘They’re gone,’ he told me, his tone bleak.

  ‘Gone? Gone where?’

  ‘I don’t know; they didn’t leave a forwarding address.’

  OK, so it was an extremely stupid question to ask, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight. I tried to work out the implications of this unexpected development. ‘Are you absolutely certain they were here in the first place? Might you not have been mistaken when you thought you saw that light earlier?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t wrong. They were definitely here, and we only missed them by a couple of hours or so. There were empty mugs in the kitchen and the kettle was still slightly warm. In addition to that, I found the scarf Babs was wearing this morning in one of the upstairs rooms. She obviously left it as a signal for me.’

  ‘This rather messes up your plans. Have you any idea what we should do now?’

  ‘We’re not beaten yet. Come on; back to the car. Let’s go check out the enemy’s lair. My bet is that they’ve moved Babs and Eve to that cottage. I’m not sure why; maybe they felt too exposed. They’re expecting us to sit tight waiting for a phone call in the morning but maybe they were worried that we might come here instead.’

  ‘They got that right. Perhaps the solicitor gave Ursula Moore some details about your military service, so they were concerned about the person they were up against.’

  We jogged back to the perimeter of the grounds and a few minutes later we were en route for the cottage Bartlett had rented as a love nest: one we thought now had a far more sinister purpose.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It was almost 4 a.m. when we reached our destination. The cottage was bordered on three sides by woodland, which made it easily approachable with little fear of detection. Brian pointed to one of the windows. The curtains had not been drawn, leaving a wide beam of light to flood out. ‘That’s careless,’ he whispered. ‘They obviously feel far more confident here than they did at the Hall. I noticed all the curtains there had been drawn.’

  As we watched, a figure appeared. The man’s features were clearly recognizable from our vantage point. ‘Is that who you thought?’ Brian asked.

  ‘It certainly is. That’s Derek Bartlett, grandson of Harold Matthews. And that,’ I told him as a second figure joined Bartlett, ‘is his mistress, Ursula Moore.’

  ‘OK, I’m going to recce the building. You stay here and if you see or hear any sign of trouble you go crashing in via the front door. It’s probably locked, but I want you to make as much noise as possible. Even hurl something through those windows. What I’m after is a diversion.’

  ‘Aren’t you going to rescue them now?’

  ‘No, it’s far too risky while there are two people guarding them.’

  I witnessed again the speed and stealth with which Brian could move. Or rather, I didn’t witness it. All I knew is that one second he was there, standing alongside me, issuing instructions, the next he was gone. I waited; eyes and ears alert for the slightest sound, the merest hint of trouble. I’d located a sizeable stone with my foot and picked it up, ready to send it through one of the windows should the need arise, but fortunately I didn’t have to use it. Nothing disturbed the stillness of the night until a voice in my ear murmured, ‘OK, let’s go.’

  ‘How do you do that?’ I demanded when we were safely out of earshot. ‘Moving so quickly and quietly, I mean?’

  ‘Years of training and a keen desire to avoid being recaptured or killed,’ Brian told me. ‘Nothing I know concentrates your mind better than fear for your life.’

  ‘What did you learn from your recce?’

  ‘The girls are being kept in a bedroom on the first floor. I shinned up a drainpipe and had a look in through a chink in the curtains. There’s no way we could have got to them and released them without risking their lives; not with two captors present. They’re not only gagged, but they’re fastened to a bed with chains that will take some undoing without a key.’ Brian paused and gave a quiet chuckle. ‘They don’t look happy. Particularly Eve. I wouldn’t want to be in the way when she gets free.’

  ‘She’s inclined to be a bit fiery,’ I told him with just a touch of pride. ‘It goes with the hair. What do we do now?’

  ‘Go back to the Hall. I need a pair of strong bolt cutters and I know there are some in the workshop. After that, on to Linden House for you to swap clothes.’

  ‘Why am I swapping clothes?’

  ‘They might bring one or both girls to the rendezvous to identify whoever turns up. If Babs or Eve spot that you’re wearing my clothes, they might realize that something is going on. At least that’s the theory.’

  Brian, it seemed, was leaving little or nothing to chance. That should have settled my nerves, which were growing ever more tense as dawn approached. The calming effect didn’t work.

  As the time for the phone call approached, I could tell that Brian too was affected by the tension. The call we were both hoping for and dreading at last came, and when the phone rang I looked at Brian. ‘You answer it,’ he said. ‘If you’ve to meet them, they want the voice to sound the same. Say as little as possible, though.’

  I picked up the receiver and said, ‘Brian Latimer speaking.’ Even saying the name felt strange, and I wondered briefly how I would manage to carry off the impersonation when I came face to face with the kidnappers.

  ‘Go to the ga
tes of Rowandale Hall at ten o’clock and await further instructions. Alone, and don’t forget–no police.’ The next second, I was listening to the dialling tone. I repeated the message to Brian. ‘It was a man’s voice, but I can’t be sure it was Bartlett because I’ve never heard him speak. I’ve heard his laugh, but there was nothing funny in that call.’

  ‘Latimer’. The single word was printed in large letters on an envelope. I stared at it, surprise and dismay mingled. I had arrived at the gates of Rowandale Hall at 10 a.m. prompt as per the telephone instructions. I had expected to meet one of the abductors there, but the area was deserted. I knew that someone was watching me. Brian, of course, but was he the only one? I had dropped him half a mile away a little earlier. He had told me to wait five minutes, and assured me he would be in position, concealed, before I reached the gates.

  Having got to the meeting place I waited in the car, but when no one arrived, impatience and tension got the better of me. I opened the door and stepped out. Perhaps the sight of the man dressed in Brian’s clothes would prompt someone to appear. It didn’t. I can’t remember how long I spent walking to and fro before I noticed the envelope, but it must have been several minutes. Eventually, I looked round; taking my eyes from the road for the first time and it was then that I saw the object. It had been wedged between the double gates, propped in position by one of the chains held in place by a padlock. I walked over and removed it, hoping it wouldn’t turn out to be a flyer advertising double glazing or cavity wall insulation. It wasn’t.

  The envelope was addressed to Latimer, so I reasoned that as I was impersonating him it would appear natural for me to open it. I tore it open, still conscious that someone might well be watching me as I examined the single sheet of paper it contained.

  The instructions were simple and to the point. ‘Go to Brent Cottage and await further orders’. I read them aloud, hoping that Brian was close enough to hear me.

  ‘Get back in the car, turn round, and pick me up where you dropped me off.’ He had been close enough after all. I’d no idea exactly where he was hiding. By the sound of his voice he could only have been a few yards away, but so good was his concealment that I couldn’t see him.

  I obeyed instructions and seconds after I pulled to a halt further down the road, Brian dived into the passenger seat. ‘Linden House, as fast as you can,’ he ordered, his voice crackling with tension.

  ‘Why Linden House? The instructions were to go to their cottage.’

  ‘Because I made a dreadful mistake. A basic error any raw recruit would be ashamed of. Hopefully nobody was watching you collect that envelope, because if they were I might have blown the whole operation.’

  ‘What mistake?’ For my part I thought he’d planned everything down to the finest detail.

  ‘I was supposed to be the one who kept that appointment. Alone, they said.’

  ‘Yes, what of it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have turned up in your car, would I? Not if it really was Brian Latimer at the gates of the Hall. I would either have been dropped off, or in Barbara’s car, certainly not in your Range Rover. That would have been a dead giveaway.’

  ‘Oh, I never thought of that, but you could have said you’d borrowed it.’

  ‘You’re missing the point. These people will be extremely nervous and highly suspicious of anything out of the ordinary. They’ve already killed three people and they have two more hostage. We can’t afford to do anything that might cause them to act hastily; not until we’re ready to make our move.’

  ‘So, why are we going to Linden House?’

  ‘We’re going there for you to collect Barbara’s car and drive to Brent Cottage in it. I will follow you in your car.’

  I pulled up outside the cottage, where two expensive-looking cars were already in position. Judging from the personalised number plates on them, I assumed the Mercedes to be Bartlett’s. The Porsche, I guessed, belonged to Ursula Moore. I smiled grimly. The fact that they were prepared to leave these pointers to their identity on display reinforced Brian’s thinking that the couple were not intending any of us to survive once they had the gold.

  The logic behind Brian’s argument was strengthened by the fact that they had a ready-made scapegoat in Trevor Matthews. If their plans went ahead without a hitch, he would be convicted for the three murders they had already committed. Another three added to that wouldn’t make a scrap of difference–to them. Nor would it add to Matthews’ sentence. The only people to be affected would be the three new victims, Barbara, Eve, and Brian. Only it wouldn’t be Brian, it would be me.

  My objective was to put a spanner in their works. ‘Here goes,’ I muttered. I got out of Barbara’s car and walked slowly across to the front door. There was no sign of life inside. I was uncomfortable; aware that we might already be too late. Had they moved the girls again? Simply because there were two cars outside didn’t mean they hadn’t used another vehicle. If they had moved, this would be only another round in their game of cat and mouse. And if Eve and Barbara weren’t inside the cottage, all Brian’s meticulous planning and preparation would be in vain.

  I knew Brian was close by. I would have preferred him to be alongside me. In fact I would have preferred him to be here instead of me, or better still for neither of us to have to be in this position. The ordeal of the past few hours since we discovered that Eve and Barbara had been abducted was far from over. I only hoped it would end quickly and without adding to the torment we had already endured.

  I knocked loudly on the door, aiming for bravado I didn’t feel. ‘Hello,’ I shouted. ‘It’s Brian Latimer.’

  There was no reply, not that I gave the occupants, if there were any, much of a chance. ‘Hello,’ I shouted again, and this time even louder. ‘It’s Brian Latimer. Is anyone there?’

  Hopefully, either Eve or Barbara would have heard my voice shouting Brian’s name and cottoned on by now. I dare not risk another repeat performance. I tried to ignore the flicker of movement I saw in my peripheral vision. Someone had peered out from behind one of the drawn curtains in the upstairs room. Short of yelling, ‘do you want this bloody gold or not’ there was little I could do but wait. At least I knew there was someone inside.

  After what seemed an age, I heard a key being turned in the lock and the front door opened fractionally to reveal Derek Bartlett standing behind it. The fact that he made no attempt to hide or disguise his face was yet more confirmation of their intention to kill anyone who could identify them. The particularly unpleasant-looking revolver he was pointing at me simply underlined the immediacy of that threat.

  ‘I’m Brian Latimer,’ I told him. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Never mind who I am. Did you come alone?’

  ‘Of course I did. Those were your instructions.’ My voice was raised in mock anger, to make it seem natural, as I added, ‘Adam Bailey wanted to come with me but I wouldn’t let him.’

  ‘Where is my gold?’

  ‘Hang on; first I want to know if Barbara and her friend are all right. If you’ve harmed them in any way…’

  ‘Stay there,’ Bartlett told me. He turned and called into the house. ‘Bring one of them here for Latimer to inspect. Not the horsewoman, the other one.’

  A few seconds passed before Eve appeared, her wrists bound in front of her. ‘Hello, Eve. Adam sends you his love. He would have come with me if he’d been allowed.’

  ‘Never mind that crap,’ Bartlett interrupted. He turned to Eve. ‘Who is this?’ He pointed towards where I was standing.

  ‘That’s Brian Latimer,’ Eve told him. ‘He’s engaged to Barbara.’

  Bartlett nodded, and a split second later Eve was dragged out of my sight. Bartlett told his companion, who still hadn’t shown herself, ‘Take her back upstairs. I’ll wait here. Come back and lock this door.’

  He stepped outside and pulled the door to behind him. ‘OK, you’ve seen one of the women. Now, what about my gold?’

  ‘I told you, it’s in the forest. At least
I think so.’

  ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know you haven’t found it already?’

  ‘Because I’ve only recently discovered my grandfather’s memoir. It described where he hid the gold. I haven’t had chance to search for it yet.’

  ‘Your father might have found it years ago and spent the money. I heard the estate was skint until a few years back.’

  ‘My father didn’t believe the gold existed. He thought it was only a fairy story made up by my grandmother. The money he used to turn the estate round came from his success in investing on the stock exchange and nowhere else.’ I paused, before adding, ‘The fact that you’re aware of the gold’s existence means that you must be descended from Harold Matthews who was with my grandfather on that expedition in Africa.’

  ‘What does it matter if I am related to him? Did you know your grandfather tried to kill him out there in the wilds so he could keep all of the gold? I bet he didn’t put that in his memoir.’

  ‘He did, but the way he told the story, it was Matthews who tried to kill him.’

  Bartlett waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’s all ancient history now. I’m more concerned with the present day.’

  ‘If you’re descended from him, you must be Trevor Matthews. Barbara told me you were desperate to get your hands on my estate. Now I understand why.’

  ‘That’s correct; but don’t get too excited. It isn’t knowledge that you’re likely to be able to share with anyone else.’

  Bartlett had made another basic error. By hinting at their intentions, he had confirmed what Brian and I had guessed. The knowledge that we’d been correct brought absolutely no comfort.

  I hoped I had managed to convince Bartlett that I was indeed Latimer by my intimate knowledge of Everett’s memoir. I also hoped I’d persuaded him I thought he was Trevor Matthews, despite the evidence to the contrary from those number plates.

  Once he heard the key in the lock, he gestured towards Barbara’s car. ‘Drive.’