by Susan Lewis
‘I hate this bloody country,’ Louisa said angrily. ‘I hate it. If they hadn’t kept us waiting so damned long at that police station we’d have been at the airport in time to see Sarah off. Why the hell didn’t she wake me up before she went to get him, is what I want to know?’
‘We thought it best to let you sleep on for a while.’ Erik answered. ‘We assumed I’d be able to get you to the airport, hopefully in time for the same flight if your passport had been released. But she’ll call you as soon as she gets to England, I’m sure.’
Louisa sat quietly then, staring out of the window and wishing she didn’t feel so sick and so afraid. If only Jake were there, she knew she wouldn’t feel half as bad, but it did her no good to think that way so she tried to push him from her mind and think about something else.
‘I started to pack up some of your things when I was over at the villa with Sarah,’ Erik said, glancing across at her. ‘Do you think you’re up to finishing it off, or would you rather leave it for a while?’
‘No, I’ll do it when we get back,’ she answered. ‘I want to be ready to get out of here just as soon as they let me. What are we going to do about Sarah’s car? We can’t just leave it at the airport.’
‘We’ll have to until she sends the keys down for us to collect it,’ Erik answered. ‘I imagine she’ll kick herself when she looks in her bag and realizes she forgot to leave them.’
He stopped at the péage in Antibes, tossed some coins into the net and drove on through the barrier, turning up towards Valanjou. When they got there it was to find a note from Jean-Claude telling them that he and Didier had gone to Cannes.
‘Are you sure you feel up to this?’ Erik said as he and Louisa walked in through the gates of the villa opposite.
Louisa nodded and swallowed hard. Whatever she did she mustn’t look at the pool, but to her dismay she found that just the innocuous stillness of the villa’s creamy walls and white, slatted shutters was unsettling her. The thought of the hidden, darkened interior was even more daunting and she expected, at any minute, to find herself turning back.
As he inserted the key in the lock Erik gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘Come on,’ he smiled, ‘it’ll all be over with before you know it.’
Louisa stepped in through the door and as Erik flicked on the lights she felt her heart start to pound. She hadn’t really known what she’d expected to find inside, but that everything was so clean and neat and exactly the way it had always been was somehow as unnerving as it seemed irreverent. She didn’t know where exactly Danny had been stabbed before being thrown into the pool, but the trail of blood from the terrace had told her that something had happened inside the house. It was hard to make herself accept that having borne witness to such a terrible act the house could remain so unchanged and as her eyes swept through the arches, over the large clumpy furniture, the glass tables and ornate chests she felt a shiver of unease run down her spine. It was as though the house had somehow soaked the events into its ambience, making them invisible now, invisible, but still there, heavy, ominous, grisly in the silent, stuffy air.
‘I don’t know if I can go any further,’ she said, turning back to Erik as he closed the door.
‘OK,’ he said, putting his arms around her. ‘Just give yourself a minute, then if you still feel the same way we’ll go back.’
She stood quietly in his arms for a moment, then slowly started to shake her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, steeling herself bravely. ‘I’m being feeble, come on, let’s get it done,’ and taking his hand she led him past the table that no longer bore any trace of Danny’s blood, and up the small staircase to what had just a week ago been her room.
‘I made a start on your study,’ Erik said when they reached the door. ‘Shall I go on with that?’
Louisa nodded and smiled. ‘Thanks.’ Then watching him disappear into the study she turned and taking a deep breath pushed open her bedroom door and turned on the light.
Everything was exactly as she’d left it.
Walking over to the bed she hauled out her suitcase from underneath then laid it open across the lace duvet cover. Overhead the thunder continued to grumble.
Louisa stood where she was, looking at the cupboards. She was afraid to open them, she realized, afraid of what she might find inside. Then telling herself to stop being ridiculous she marched over to them and pulled them open. There were her clothes hanging just as she’d left them, swaying slightly in the draught caused by the doors opening.
Humming tunelessly to fill the silence she started to take them from the hangers, folding them and carrying them over to the bed.
‘Do you want to put these in your case?’ Erik said, startling her as he came into the room. He was holding up the power cables for her portable computer.
‘Oh yes, yes please,’ she said taking them from him.
‘Why don’t you open the shutters and let some air in here while you pack?’ he suggested.
Louisa looked at him, not knowing how to tell him that she didn’t want to see the pool.
‘Here, I’ll do it for you,’ he said, walking to the window, pulling it open then throwing out the shutters.
‘Thanks,’ she said breathlessly.
Fifteen minutes later she was all packed and the few possessions she’d had in the study were piled on the landing between the two rooms.
‘Here, let me take that,’ Erik said as she snapped her suitcase closed, and heaving it from the bed he laughed. ‘You women, I sometimes wonder how you’d manage if you didn’t have us guys to do the lifting for you. Are you ready?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, turning off the light as she followed him from the room.
They were halfway down the stairs when Erik suddenly remembered they’d left the shutters open. He was so laden down with her suitcase and computer and a holdall that Louisa had no choice but to say she would go back to close them.
When she got to the window she closed her eyes, reached out for the shutters and pulled them together. Then fastening the catch on the window she turned back and almost leapt from her skin when she saw Erik standing at the door.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Anything else to come?’
‘No,’ she answered, and casting one last look around she followed him back down the stairs.
‘There, that wasn’t so bad was it?’ he said when they got outside.
‘No,’ she smiled, letting her breath go slowly and not adding that never again in her life would she go into a house where someone had been murdered.
‘I see,’ Consuela was saying into the phone. ‘And where is he now?’
As she listened to the reply her eyes flickered towards the man who was watching her. ‘En route to Posada Barrancas,’ she repeated. ‘What time will he get there? Yes, yes, I understand. When he arrives give him a message from me. Tell him that if he goes anywhere near my daughter he will be shot. There will be no questions asked, he will simply be shot dead.’ Again she listened. ‘Yes, I have made the arrangements. The money will be there for you by tomorrow. I’ve never let you down before. Yes, I know it’s a lot of money, but this is my daughter and my granddaughter we’re discussing. Call me back when he gets to Posada Barrancas. And remember to give him my message.’
As she replaced the receiver Marianne came into the room. Consuela walked over to her and putting her hands on Marianne’s shoulders she said in a tone so grave that Marianne’s skin prickled, ‘You must go for Louisa, Marianne. You must go for her now. This has all become very serious and there isn’t much time. I have just heard, ten minutes ago, that Morandi and Sarah have not arrived in England.’
Marianne’s face drained.
‘Please, go for Louisa,’ Consuela said urgently.
‘But how am I going to make her come?’ Marianne said helplessly.
Consuela glanced back over her shoulder to the man standing behind her. ‘David will go with you,’ she said as he nodded. ‘He will persuade Louisa. Now please
, go and get her. Don’t bring her here, it will only frighten her. Take her somewhere where she will feel safe. But don’t lose any time, Marianne. Jake has got very close to Martina now and if he should get to her then it won’t only be Martina’s life that is in jeopardy, Louisa’s will be too.’
‘But why?’ Marianne cried. ‘I don’t understand. Please explain why.’
‘There isn’t time now,’ Consuela answered. ‘David will go with you, he will explain on the way.’
Marianne turned to him, then quickly snatching up her keys she said, ‘No, I’ll go alone.’
25
THE RUSTY RAILWAY carriage creaked and groaned on the tracks, keeling and rocking as it made its laborious ascent into the rugged, pine-covered mountains of the Sierra Madre. The sun was blistering the dry, soulless landscape, lizards and snakes slithered between grey, slate rocks seeking shade; in the deep crevices of the valleys river beds lay exposed and parched.
Jake’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t sleeping, but hoped he soon would. He and Fernando had boarded the train four hours ago, there were four more to go before they reached their destination. Inside he was calm, his iron self-control had wrestled with his anger and suppressed it. That they were completely in the hands of the negotiators who were leading them blindly into God only knew what was getting to Fernando, but not to Jake. There was nothing to be gained from dwelling on the fact that had they known their destination before boarding the train they could have chartered a plane to take them into the mountains. The negotiators – the kidnappers – hadn’t seen fit to provide them with that information until just over an hour ago when a steward had passed Fernando a note telling them to alight at Posada Barrancas where their next contact would be waiting for them. To the kidnappers this was a game, leading them from Guadalajara to Chihuahua and then on this interminable rail journey to Posada Barrancas, the highest and one of the remotest points of the great craggy peaks of the Copper Canyon. And since they had no choice but to play the game, Jake, whose patience had long ago learned to stand the test of the much more formidable and unpredictable opponents of wind and tide, saw no point in getting himself worked up about something over which he had no control. What he needed now was sleep.
The air-conditioning coughed and sighed, packed up, then a few minutes later groaned back to life. Fernando was watching Jake, he was also watching the Mexican further down the carriage, slumbering beneath his sombrero. A few minutes ago, at La Junta station, the Mexican had slipped out of the train to use the telephone. The Mexican’s name was Alvarez – he was one of Fernando’s men. Alvarez had contacted Javier to inform him of their destination and expected time of arrival. Javier, Fernando’s deputy, had remained in Guadalajara keeping Pedro hostage until such time as he received word of what he was to do with the old man.
Jake shifted in his seat and stretched his long legs into the aisle. After a minute he got up and went to another torn and dusty seat the other side of the carriage. He hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. Again he closed his eyes.
For an hour or so as he drifted somewhere between sleep and consciousness he was vaguely aware of the long, deafening blasts of the train whistle and of others moving about the carriage. Then quite suddenly his eyes flew open. Louisa. He was thinking about Louisa, recalling the softness of her skin, the beauty of her eyes, the exquisite sensation of her legs circling him as he pushed deep inside her. He was aroused by the memory of her, hungry for more, needful of the soothing sound of her laughter, the uncomplicated joy of her presence.
Jesus Christ, he muttered to himself as a spark of anger erupted through his calm. She had no place here. She was in the past. He would never see her again and in his wakefulness he bitterly resented her intrusion at a time when his mind should be focused on Martina.
At last, just after four in the afternoon, Jake and Fernando stepped off the train at Posada Barrancas. A sweaty clutch of back-packing tourists bustled past them, sinking thankfully into the air-conditioned interior of the train. As the makeshift station cleared and Jake moved across the decayed wooden planks that served as a platform, he could feel himself becoming lightheaded. The air was so thin, the sun was blazing. Fernando steadied himself by putting a hand on a rail and waited for his dizziness to pass.
Two dirt roads meandered off into the hills in opposite directions and as the train lumbered on down the track the only other sign of life was a Tarahumara Indian selling her woven baskets and copper bangles which were set out on a woven cloth beside the station. Fernando approached her, but before he spoke Jake touched his arm and nodded towards a dust cloud in the distance. A vehicle was coming towards them. Then appearing from out of the bushes behind them a flat-faced Indian dressed in filthy, unbuttoned and rope-tied western clothes and baring rotten teeth in a grimace against the sunlight loped past Alvarez who was sprawled on a single bench, seemingly waiting for the next train.
The Indian came to stand beside Fernando. Jake’s face was inscrutable as he pulled back into the meagre shade offered by the deteriorating overhead timbers and listened to the Indian speaking to Fernando in a dialect he didn’t understand.
Fernando’s mouth started to curve in a malicious smile, then dragging his eyes from the Indian he turned to Jake and interpreted. ‘He has brought a message from your mother-in-law. She wants you to know that if you go anywhere near her daughter you will be shot.’
Jake pulled his eyebrows together and as he turned his eyes on the Indian the Indian took a step back, shaking his head and raising a hand as if to remind them he was only the messenger. Then with several furtive and frightened backward glances at Jake he scurried around the station wagon that had now halted beside them and disappeared into the rocks. Fernando glanced over his shoulder and Alvarez promptly started after the Indian.
The driver of the station wagon, a leathery faced Mexican with heavy eyes and wiry grey hair, stood at the side of his vehicle watching Alvarez scramble up over the rocks, then scratching his head he turned and introduced himself as the chauffeur for the lodge where rooms had been reserved for them.
When they reached the lodge, an incongruous grey stone chateau-like building with an orange tiled roof and a haphazard array of cabins that sprawled upwards through the trees towards the rim of the canyon, Fernando collected the key to the furthest cabin while Jake inspected the horses that were tethered to a rotten fence outside. In front of him the hillside sloped gently away from the lodge to the dozen or so shacks and a church at the heart of the valley. Beyond the mountains rose dramatically towards the languid blue sky. There was no one in sight, no sound of life, human or otherwise.
Their cabin, a mere speck on the rim of one of nature’s most rugged and cavernous gorges, was basic and unwelcoming. It was made of stone and wood and had two windows, one overlooking the canyon, the other overlooking the wide sweep of the valley. As they walked in Fernando threw his gun on the nearest of the two beds and sat down heavily, running his hands down the back of his neck to ease the tension and tiredness. Jake walked to the window between the beds, pulled aside the bright flowered curtain and gazed out. His strong face was as implacable as it had been throughout the journey, the strain showed only in the deepening lines around his eyes. Again he was thinking of Louisa, unable to dispel the need to hold her and reflecting with fear on how the timing of what happened here, in this remote and desolate part of the world some ten thousand or more miles from where she was, was going to affect her.
‘You do realize, my friend,’ Fernando said, ‘that the message from Consuela was an admission that your wife is alive.’
‘Yes,’ Jake said shortly, watching a vulture rise majestically from the depths of the canyon.
Fernando sighed. ‘But we knew that anyway.’
Letting the curtain fall Jake picked a towel up from the bed and nodded towards the phone. ‘See if that works,’ he said. ‘If it does get onto Javier in Guadalajara and tell him to contact Erik and let him know where we are. I’m going to take a shower.’
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The shower did nothing to soothe the increasing turmoil inside him. The dread of what the next few days, maybe hours, would bring was sliding as coldly through his veins as the icy water was sliding over his skin. Every time he thought of Martina now he saw Louisa. It was Louisa’s voice he was hearing, Louisa’s eyes that were watching him. And the resentment he felt towards her for standing between him and his wife at such a time was made all the more bitter by the knowledge that he had only himself to blame. He should never have allowed himself to become involved with her, but this was no time to be dealing with his conscience, no time for regrets. Once he saw Martina he knew all other thoughts would be erased from his mind. Getting to her was all that mattered now.
‘Jake! Is that you?’ Erik shouted over the crackling line an hour later. ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘You won’t have heard of it,’ Jake answered curtly. He wanted this line free. He didn’t want to handle anything more than what was happening right there. ‘What is it?’ he snapped.
He listened, without interruption, to what Erik was telling him and as each second passed so the strain in his face deepened.
‘OK,’ he said finally. ‘You know what to do. You know where to take her. Do it now, Erik,’ and he slammed the phone down.
Fernando was looking at him. ‘What was that?’ he said.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jake answered. ‘Nothing that need concern us right now.’
They turned as a figure moved past the window, both snatching up their guns. The door opened. Alvarez came in and they relaxed.
‘Just a local,’ Alvarez told them, referring to the Indian he had followed. ‘He wasn’t armed. My guess is someone slung him a few more pesos than he’s used to and told him to deliver the message. There’s no knowing if they’ll come back for an answer …’
‘They won’t,’ Jake said.
They settled down to continue the wait. Fernando and Alvarez played poker by the torpid light of a brass lamp while Jake stared absently at the vast, fiery fingers of the setting sun that stretched out of the horizon across the fading sky.
