The seagulls woke Marvik. There was a pink light in the sky to the east. The March morning had a biting edge to it but the sea state was calm. Strathen was awake and making breakfast. Marvik wondered when the coastguard would find the trawler. Whether they would find Matthew Killbeck was another matter. Marvik again considered Matthew’s motives for taking off into the night. Had he killed whoever was behind this? Or maybe he’d just grown tired of it all and killed himself.
He trained the binoculars on the bay in front of him. It was good to study it from the seaward side because this was how Shale or his accomplice, or both of them, on board a boat had approached it in January 1979. His eyes travelled the small stretch of curving sand and the black rock that bled off from it at either side. He could hear the tide washing on to the sand and shingle beach in a gentle, slow, rhythmic motion. The seagulls circled overhead, cawing, piping and bleating, dipping and diving on to the shore and the sea. It must have been a calm day in 1979, much like this, he thought as he trained the glasses up the cliff face and then at the grassy bank at the top of the cliff. He swung them to the left and could pick out the ruined houses, the small church and outbuildings used by the army for exercises. There was no one in sight and no sound of gunfire this morning.
In 1979 two men had met here, one with the intention of blackmail and the other to kill. The bay was difficult to navigate with its underwater rocks and granite shelves. It needed an experienced sailor to know when and how to approach and to depart, taking with them a human cargo. But then the bay belonged to Cedric Shale and he knew how to handle a boat – perhaps the other man with him had also been an experienced sailor. Was it the man who had been hunched over the helm in the photograph Strathen had shown him last night? Again something nagged at the back of Marvik’s mind but, try as he might, infuriatingly he couldn’t grasp it.
His thoughts returned to Matthew Killbeck, here, as a witness, on that fateful day in 1979. Perhaps Matthew Killbeck had lied to him when he said he’d seen the boat take off. Marvik only had his word for it. Perhaps Matthew had met Redburn on the beach and killed him and Cotleigh had witnessed it. That would have been a powerful weapon for a blackmailer. And perhaps Leonard Killbeck had been in the boat that had taken Redburn’s body away, which was why Cotleigh had managed to get himself a billet with Leonard in 1989. He voiced his views to Strathen as he tucked into his breakfast, adding, ‘But if Matthew and Leonard killed Redburn, I can’t see what their motive could have been unless it was the fact they’d been smuggling and had hidden an illicit cargo here.’
‘You’re forgetting that Cotleigh came back in 1989 calling himself Pulford and as far as I can ascertain neither Matthew nor Leonard Killbeck were in Singapore in 1959. And if Matthew and Leonard killed Redburn why didn’t they kill Cotleigh aka Pulford as soon as he showed up, rather than letting him live and work with them for over a year?’
‘You’re right and Matthew is not the “boss” the Audleys referred to who is keeping Shale alive.’
‘And he’s not the man Crowder is after.’
Marvik agreed. He bit into his toast and after a moment said, ‘Matthew could have recognized Shale as being on that boat but how would he have known him? They hardly moved in the same circles or had the same interests, except for the sea, but at opposite ends of the scale: one a professional fisherman the other a leisure sailor.’
‘Perhaps he recognized the other man.’
‘Which means it could have been someone he’d seen in the news, someone in a powerful position, and he knew that his word about what he saw wouldn’t be taken over that of Shale and this accomplice.’ But Marvik frowned as he considered this and recalled Mary’s words and frightened countenance. ‘For Mary to be scared, though, it has to be someone she also knows and that means it might be someone from Matthew’s own circle. But who?’ Marvik said, frustrated, his mind trying desperately to pull together all the information they’d gleaned. ‘It’s got to be someone close to Matthew, someone he’d do anything to protect.’
‘Let’s return to Swanage,’ Strathen said. ‘He might even be there. Yeah, I know, unlikely,’ he added in response to Marvik’s sceptical look.
Even before dropping anchor, Marvik could see that Matthew hadn’t returned. As he looked through the glasses, though, he saw two figures on the shore heading towards a motor launch: Adam and Jensen Killbeck.
They quickly launched the tender and headed towards them. Adam stiffened as he saw them approach. His arm was strapped up, his face ashen and his expression set and grim. Jensen Killbeck looked his usual bored self.
‘Want to beat me up again? Then go ahead – I can’t stop you,’ Adam snapped as they drew level with him.
Steadily, Marvik said, ‘I want to know why your father is protecting Cedric Shale.’
‘Who?’
Marvik could see that Adam knew exactly who he was talking about. He continued, ‘Especially when Shale isn’t a risk any more. He has dementia. Even if he told the police that Matthew helped him kill a man they wouldn’t believe him.’
Adam’s expression darkened. His fist balled. ‘Dad’s killed no one.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Fuck off.’
Adam made to turn away but Strathen blocked his path.
‘Takes two of you to beat me up now?’ Adam sneered.
Jensen was now eyeing them apprehensively, his phone in his hand.
‘Well, go on, I can’t fight back with one arm,’ he taunted.
‘No one wants to beat you up. We just want the truth,’ Marvik calmly replied.
‘Truth!’ Adam spat. ‘Who gives a fuck about the truth?’
‘We do.’ Marvik rounded on him angrily. ‘One woman has died because too many people have lied. She was innocent and another innocent woman might be dead. How many more deaths do there have to be before you and your father tell the truth?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Jensen, get the boat ready,’ he commanded.
‘You’re going to look for Matthew?’
Adam remained silent.
‘He might already be dead.’
‘I know that,’ Adam hissed, his eyes blazing with pain and anger. ‘And if he is then you killed him so before you start spouting off about others killing take a good hard look at yourself.’
Stiffly, Marvik said, ‘If Matthew didn’t kill anyone then he’s protecting someone and if it’s not Cedric Shale then who is it, Adam?’
‘No bloody idea.’ But it was bluster.
‘We can help find him. There might still be time,’ pressed Marvik. He could see Adam was in pain, he was upset and he was scared, not for himself but for his father. ‘Who is Mary talking about when she said the dead had risen?’
Adam’s skin blanched. Marvik watched the expressions race across his troubled face: anger, fear, despair.
‘Dad didn’t kill anyone,’ he repeated but the rage had gone.
Marvik’s mind continued to race. ‘But he is protecting someone?’ And why would he do that? Out of loyalty or fear? ‘Who is your father afraid of?’
‘No one,’ Adam declared defensively and with pride.
‘But your mother is. Mary is terrified because she’s seen this man come back from the dead and she’s afraid for Matthew.’
Marvik’s mind dashed back to the church and afterwards to the wake in the trendy pub where Mary had kept saying something about the dead rising and Matthew had apologized and tried to quieten her. A pub that at the time Marvik had thought wasn’t the Killbecks’ natural habitat. They’d never have chosen voluntarily to drink inside it but it had been close to the church, which was why Marvik thought they had suggested it. But perhaps there was another reason why it had been chosen and suddenly what had been nagging at the back of his mind snapped into place. He knew exactly where he’d seen that hunched figure at the helm on Shale’s expensive new motor cruiser of 1998. It was the same posture of the man at the bar with his back to them. The man hunched over his phone d
rinking a glass of wine.
‘Who was the man in the bar, the day of the funeral service, Adam? The one your father met afterwards?’ Marvik pursued, catching Strathen’s eye. Adam glanced away and shook his head solemnly but his whole body language was that of defeat. Marvik continued, ‘After I’d left, Matthew told you to make sure Mary got home safely and that he had someone he needed to talk to.’ Marvik didn’t know that for certain. It was a guess but not much of one. It’s what Matthew would have done. Matthew had been told to stay behind and he’d been instructed to invite Marvik for a drink to find out why he was at the funeral. And the next day Marvik had called on Matthew Killbeck and Mary had again talked about the dead rising up and she’d uttered a name. Marvik conjured up her petrified face and along with it the name, You’re not Mr Howard and Killbeck had quickly answered, She thinks you’re the plumber who’s come to fit a bathroom. But Mary had other ideas. Have you come about the dead? she’d said fearfully.
Evenly, Marvik said, ‘Where’s Howard?’
He didn’t think Adam could get any paler but he did. His body swayed. He shouldn’t have been out of hospital but Marvik was betting that having heard the news that his father was missing he’d discharged himself.
‘We need to find him,’ Marvik persisted.
‘I don’t know where he is.’
‘But you do know him. He’s the man your father is protecting.’
Adam inhaled and dashed a fearful glance at them. He let out a long, slow breath and nodded. His troubled eyes swivelled between Marvik and Strathen. Marvik said nothing. Strathen beside him kept silent. After a moment he continued, his voice full of anguish, ‘I didn’t even know dad had another brother. No one spoke about him, not even my grandparents. There was only ever Matthew and Leonard. Dad said that Howard hated being a fisherman. He was never going to take to the nets. He left home at fourteen and they never saw him again.’
‘Not until that day of Pulford’s funeral.’
Adam nodded but Marvik knew that wasn’t the truth as far as Matthew was concerned. He’d seen his brother before, in 1979, and he’d seen him since the funeral nine days ago.
Now that Adam had decided to tell what he knew he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. ‘It’s like you said – dad told me to take mum home. He said he had some business to attend to. I didn’t know what he meant until I heard him talking on his mobile phone, when we were fishing, when Jensen was sick. He said it had to end and he mentioned you. He said you were asking too many questions and that you’d get to the truth. Dad looked ill and old when he came off the phone. I asked him about it. He tried to bluff it out but he couldn’t. He told me to look after mum if anything happened to him. I made a joke, saying he had years left but he said, “Not if Howard has his way.” I asked who Howard was and he said, “My brother” then he clammed up, said it was best I didn’t know. I wish to hell you’d never come here stirring things up. We were all right. You should have left us alone. Now piss off and let me find Dad.’
He marched off towards Jensen. They let him go. There was nothing either of them could do to stop him. Marvik understood why he had to try. He turned to Strathen. ‘Howard’s the man on that boat with Cedric Shale in the photograph you showed me. It’s the same hunched figure I saw at the bar in that trendy pub. I didn’t see his face. He has to have been the man with Shale in the bay in 1979. He and Shale killed Redburn and Matthew recognized his brother. I’m betting Cotleigh knew that. Matthew might have hurried down into the bay to remonstrate with his brother and Cotleigh saw and overheard it. Cotleigh took off scared, thinking that Howard and Shale would come after him, but after ten years he thought it was safe to return and blackmail Matthew Killbeck, and through him also blackmail Cedric Shale and Howard Killbeck. It’s Howard who is keeping Cedric Shale alive in Kingston House while he systematically sells the contents and siphons off the proceeds. He’s making sure that Cedric stays locked away with his ramblings about the devil and blood. He won’t kill him – not until he’s got all the money he needs because he’s obviously not mentioned in any will. If there is a will. But how did Howard get to know Shale so well?’
‘Perhaps he went to Singapore on one of Ambrose Shale’s ships, just like Bradley Pulford, and got a job on one of Ambrose Shale’s plantations or in the mines and met Cedric through it.’
Marvik watched Adam and Jensen launch the boat. Adam was wincing in pain. Their search was pointless and perilous but it was no use telling Adam that, as they’d seen.
He said, ‘Howard might have hated fishing but he’s a man with the sea in his blood, like Matthew and Adam. He’d take to the sea like his father and grandfather.’ Again something nudged at Marvik.
Strathen said, ‘He can’t be far away because he’ll need to silence us.’
‘Then it’s time I left a calling card with the Audleys.’
TWENTY-TWO
This time Marvik had no need to hide from the electronic surveillance devices. On the contrary, he wanted his approach to be fully visible. He’d taken a taxi from Swanage to Steepleridge and from there had walked across country in the late afternoon to Kingston House, leaving Strathen in the town in a café on the Internet trying to find out what he could on Howard Killbeck. He’d already called to report that Howard Killbeck had been born on the first of June 1938 and there was no register of his death. Neither of them knew what name he’d taken over the last sixty years but Strathen was looking for it. The Audleys might give that to Marvik.
He approached the electronic gates wondering if Greg Audley was watching him from behind a monitor, or perhaps Howard Killbeck was. There was no vehicle parked in the grounds so why were the gates open? Perhaps a trade van had made a delivery and Audley had forgotten to close them. No one came out to accost him and the intercom remained silent. He could have pressed it but there didn’t seem to be any point when he only had to walk in.
He jogged up the weed-strewn gravel driveway, glancing up at Shale’s bedroom window. The curtains were pulled across. The windows were closed. As before, he made his way around the side of the house with an uneasy sensation pricking between his shoulder blades. He could sense that something was wrong. His body tensed and his pulse beat a little faster.
At the French doors he halted. Last time he’d come here he’d effected an entry through the sash windows beside the doors but now he walked on around to the rear of the house to the kitchen. The door was open. That surely wasn’t usual. His senses on full alert, he stepped inside as the adrenaline surged through his body. He was ready for action if or when needed, but no one came to assault or challenge him because the room was empty.
A chill ran down his spine as he surveyed the ultra-modern large kitchen. The central island was littered with used crockery. There was a pot of coffee. He touched the side. It was stone cold and on the two plates were the congealing remains of a fried breakfast.
Swiftly, he crossed to the door, keeping alert for the slightest sound or movement. Only silence greeted him. Entering the narrow corridor and ignoring the door to his left, he headed for the door in front of him which led into the expansive hall. To his left and just ahead was the wide, sweeping staircase. Still no sound and still no one came to confront him.
As he ran up the stairs he wondered why the Audleys had cleared out in the middle of their meal, which was a strange time to choose but then Howard Killbeck might have ordered them to do so. Was Howard Killbeck already here, having anticipated Marvik’s arrival? Howard couldn’t have known for certain this was where he had been heading because nobody except Strathen knew that and there was no tracking device on Marvik. He didn’t even have any of his three phones switched on.
The upper hall was dimly lit, the dark afternoon clouds making it gloomier. A spat of rain hurled itself against the window behind him as he picked his way along the corridor to the room with the bay window where he had previously found Cedric Shale in a wheelchair. His ears strained for any sound. Again only silence greeted him, that and the s
mell of disinfectant and something else. A smell that he was all too familiar with.
Steeling himself and taking a breath, Marvik pushed open the door. It gave a slight creak. There was no sound from inside. He entered. The room was dark but his eyes quickly registered the bay window opposite while his senses prepared for an attack if it came from behind the door, but he knew it wouldn’t. There was no demented elderly man in a wheelchair this time. He turned towards the bed. There he picked out the shape of a body. Approaching he saw at once that it was Cedric Shale and that he was dead, but he’d known that almost the moment he’d stepped inside the house. It had the stench of death about it. He had smelt and seen enough of it to know when he was in its presence.
Shale’s skin was icy cold to his touch. He’d been dead for some hours. Running his small torch over the body in the dim light of the room, Marvik noted that there were no physical signs of violence and no smell when he sniffed close to the gaping mouth, so poison was probably out of the equation. Shale could have died of natural causes but if he had his timing was immaculate. Marvik thought it more likely he’d been injected with an overdose of morphine. Had Greg Audley or his wife done that or was it Howard Killbeck’s work?
Howard was cleaning up. He knew that Marvik was close to the truth and he couldn’t leave any loose ends, which didn’t bode well for Bryony or Matthew and the Audleys. Had they really taken off? Marvik liked to think so.
He turned and ran down the stairs, but in the corridor between the hall and kitchen he paused at the door on his right. Thrusting it open he found, as he had expected, that it led to the cellar. Descending the stone steps, he played his torch over the dusty cobweb-ridden wine racks. They were empty. Howard had cleaned that out too.
Standing stock-still, he swung the torch’s beam around the freezing cold echoing cellar until the light picked out the gruesome spectacle he knew he would find. The Audleys were on the stone floor in the far corner. Dead. But Marvik crossed to make sure. There was nothing he could do. Both had been shot at close range. There was no sign of a gun. A break-in? A robbery? Marvik knew otherwise but Howard Killbeck hoped it was what the police would conclude. Fury knotted his gut at the senseless slaughter. He had to stop Killbeck but how when he didn’t know where to find him and he didn’t even know what he looked like? But maybe he did. He’d said to Strathen earlier that Howard was a man of the sea. And his mind sped back to his breakfast with Sarah, recalling everyone he’d seen – the stocky man in his forties who had entered the café after them, as had the man in his fifties who had read his newspaper. Sarah had shown no reaction to either of them and they were the wrong age for Howard Killbeck. The jogger on the promenade was in his late thirties, which left the silver-haired man in his seventies wearing a sailing jacket who had smiled as he’d leaned over and ruffled the fur of a dog a woman had been walking.
Dangerous Cargo Page 23
