by Fiona Walker
‘Of course you bloody know!’ Russ was pointing the camera at him accusingly, relishing his undercover exposé. ‘You’re part of the team organizing it. You’re the bowman.’
‘Fuck off,’ Dougie muttered, then, hearing the outraged voice at the other end of the line, quickly apologized. ‘Not you, Dair. I need your help.’
Russ was watching him closely, his voice dropping to David Attenborough gorilla-observation whisper as he told the camera, ‘Everett is on the phone to the estate manager, Alasdair Armitage, who is in control of all illegal hunting at Eardisford. He will no doubt bring heavies to force me off the estate at gunpoint.’
‘Can you or one of the keepers get transport down here?’ Dougie spoke into the phone. ‘Kat needs to go to A and E.’
‘Kat has been injured in the line of duty, possibly deliberately,’ Russ told the camera in his breathy undertone.
Kat was complaining groggily that she didn’t want to go to hospital. ‘I am perfectly okay, see?’ She sat up, gripping the ground to either side. ‘I’m Katherine Mason. It’s July the twentieth, I’m holding up two fingers, or it could be four – six even.’ Her eyes crossed as she focused on them and then, blinking hard, she groaned and clutched her head.
‘For God’s sake, lie down again,’ Dougie ordered, worried she was about to pass out. ‘You’re going to hospital whether you like it or not.’
‘I’m definitely not marrying you if you’re going to boss me about like that,’ she grumbled. ‘Or is the proposal off now you know I’m a spy?’
The camera zoom whirred frantically.
‘Shut up, Kat,’ Dougie breathed.
‘Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them the bit about you coming to Eardisford to trick me into marrying you so I have to leave the farm.’ She looked at him blearily, totally disoriented, one pupil noticeably bigger than the other. ‘Russ is right. I have been injured in the line of duty. My heart’s been broken. That was the most amazing kiss of my life but it’s just all an act for you, isn’t it?’ She looked away tearfully and spotted the camera at last. ‘Shit.’ She gave it her big smile, her green eyes glazed. Then she groaned and lay down in the grass.
‘I think you should go.’ Russ gave Dougie his bear growl, towering over him.
‘I’m not leaving her like this.’
‘You come near her again and there’ll be a village lynch mob out.’
Dougie looked at him furiously. ‘I’m going nowhere.’
‘You want this on YouTube?’ Russ switched the little camera to play, flapping out its touch-screen and jabbing his finger on the thumbnails. Images of Dougie round the estate on horseback, cycling with his hounds, riding with Kat and letting loose a few arrows from Worcester, who he was training for stunt tricks to entertain guests.
‘Do what you like with it,’ Dougie muttered, checking Kat again. She’d closed her eyes and was muttering her way through times tables again.
‘And this one?’
‘They’re otters.’ Dougie identified the creatures on screen impatiently. Then the picture swung around to show the mill house through the trees, its windows illuminated at dusk. The footage had been taken back in late spring when bluebells had surrounded it. The camera zoomed in on one window where Dollar, lithe and naked, was riding up and down on what at first appeared to be large dildo poking from an ornamental clock, but Dougie recognized was in fact himself shot from a strange angle. The picture swung around again with a lot of rustling and then resumed from a higher angle so that Dougie’s blond hair and laughing face could be seen.
‘You fucking pervert,’ he hissed at Russ, glancing anxiously at Kat, but her eyes were still closed.
‘It gets better.’ Russ fast-forwarded to Dollar pointing a handgun out of the window at the two Lake Farm lurchers and Trevor the peacock. Moments later Dougie appeared outside, shouting his head off about roasted peacocks with apricot stuffing and how to get hold of illegal handguns.
Dougie felt a sickening lurch of déjà vu. His reputation had been severely rattled by some very compromising CCTV footage once before. ‘This proves nothing,’ he muttered.
‘Leave. Kat. Alone,’ Russ hissed.
Chapter 49
‘I’m no longer interested in the bonus option,’ Dougie told Dollar, with tight-lipped restraint.
‘What is wrong?’ Her voice purred with reassuring cool.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ He let himself into the mill house, the puppy wriggling in ahead.
‘That is very inconvenient. Removing Kat Mason and her sanctuary is now a number-one priority. We would like Lake Farm made vacant and repatriated to the estate as a matter of urgency.’
Dougie snorted at the use of ‘repatriated’, as though Lake Farm was a refugee in a war zone. ‘That’s not my problem any more.’
She gave an exasperated huff, tapping on her tablet in the background. ‘We will need to deal with this before Seth and his guests arrive next weekend. Igor will hunt and shoot both days.’
‘Who’s Igor?’
‘You should be aware of this. Dair has been given the security briefing to distribute. Igor is a very important guest. Read up on him.’
Dougie looked at the pile of unopened post on the table, one of which was a hand-delivered A4 envelope addressed to The Hon. D. W. J. Everett, MFH. Only Dair was that formal and evasive.
‘I’ll look through it again tonight.’ He threw his keys down on the table and headed to the fridge for a Coke. ‘There aren’t a lot of sporting options right now, but I can set something up with a scent trail.’
‘That is not what we want, Dougie.’
He felt his scalp tighten. ‘What precisely do you want?’
‘We have promised Igor English medieval hunting. This is entirely within your brief. We have assured him of your full co-operation. He expects to be entertained.’
‘You want me to dress up in doublet and hose?’ He played it dumb, but he knew that he couldn’t play it any dumber than he inadvertently, stupidly and blindly already had.
‘He is an experienced bowman. He will bring his own equipment. Your job is to provide the horses and to track the game.’
‘You know I can’t do that. It’s completely illegal.’
There was a long pause. ‘Dougie, have you read your contract?’
‘I obviously have a lot of reading to do tonight.’
‘You have half an hour.’ She rang off.
Dougie knew he couldn’t hope to find his contract in half an hour. Instead, he called his father’s mobile. ‘What do you know about Arjan “Seth” Singh?’
‘Are you in trouble?’
‘Should I be worried if I am?’
‘Not unduly. He’s very well liked.’ Vaughan Everett didn’t hesitate, the name as familiar to him as Bill Gates or Mark Zuckerberg. ‘I was working for the Treasury when Seth’s first company was floated on the stock exchange for a cool eight figures. That must have been fifteen years ago or more. He was a computer genius from Bradford who made a mint through developing online gaming sites. He was known as Britain’s richest teenager by the tabloids, but he hated the publicity and quickly disappeared behind a privacy wall. I think he’s based in India now. His enterprise is absolutely huge, one of the global IT heavyweights.’
‘Would global include Russian arms deals?’
Vaughan promised to do some detective work and call back within the hour.
Dougie went to throw open a window, cursing himself repeatedly under his breath, his forehead pressed against the frame. Quiver leaned supportively against his legs as Dougie scrunched his eyes closed and breathed in the air outside so long, low and mournfully it seemed to pull every muscle in his chest.
He thought of Kat Mason and the irony that they’d both been trying to dupe the other, he flirting for a million-pound bonus and she playing detective for the sanctuary. He knew he should be darkly amused by such bittersweet double deceit – an ability to laugh at himself was his strongest armour these days – but jealous
anger twisted inside him: his own allegiance had shifted while she had clearly stayed loyal to Badger Man and the village.
Now he knew what Seth expected him to lay on for his VIP visitors, Dougie could hardly blame Kat for spying on him, judging him, hating him. How he could be so naïve and walk straight into this situation appalled him. He’d ignored its obvious traps, too blown away by the escape Eardisford had offered and the easy money to question the details.
He needed a drink, but all he had was Coke and coffee, and he was jittery enough as it was, heart lurching when his phone rang.
It was Dollar, her stonewall voice as inexpressive as ever. ‘I have discussed the forthcoming visit with Seth and your services will not be needed. Shooting will be the focus.’
‘Sensible choice,’ he muttered. Let Dair worry about what the Russian could track in the off season.
‘We will need the horses to be available at all times. Igor is a very keen horseman. And you must keep the girl away. Drug her if you need to.’
‘I’m the huntsman, not a henchman,’ he reminded her. He was feeling jumpy as he thought back to his conversations with Kat, which had revealed how little he knew about Seth’s real identity, let alone his connection with oligarchs and arms deals. And then the idiot Badger Man had started spouting on about rich tycoons slaughtering wildlife. Suddenly the James Bond fantasy he’d harboured at the start felt less silly and far too close for comfort. ‘Who exactly is Igor?’
‘That is none of your concern. As well as mounting our guest on a very well-behaved animal, you will be required to work as part of the team ensuring we have discretion and security. His visit requires total privacy. Sunday afternoon is the estate versus the village cricket match. The pitch is on the far side of the church, and so it is an excellent distraction. Everybody will be out of the way. The day before will be harder because so many villagers walk their dogs through the estate. We have surveyed the public rights of way and Dair Armitage has it all in hand.’
‘Is he organizing a rough shoot?’
‘On the contrary, we need it to go smoothly.’ Her voice softened. ‘I would like to see you alone.’
‘I’ll be playing cricket and distracting girls, remember?’
‘We will see each other.’ With this, she rang off, leaving Dougie feeling oddly as if he’d been threatened.
Unable to sit still for more than a minute at a time – certainly not long enough to read Dair’s impossibly long and boring security briefing – Dougie took Quiver for a walk past Lake Farm to visit Harvey. There were several cars parked in the farmyard. The voices coming from the kitchen sounded positively party-like.
He found Harvey lying on his side in his field and sat down beside him, using his rump as a back rest so that he was facing the lake, looking across to Eardisford’s illuminated windows as he called Dair, who had also been equipped with a satellite phone but was hopeless at using it. Dougie had been calling and texting all evening to find out how Kat was and had heard nothing, but this time he was in luck as the phone was picked up. The delay, however, was terrible.
‘Hello?… Can you hear me, Dair?… How’s Kat?’
‘Dougie? It’s Kat… Dair left his phone in the cubicle.’
‘Kat!… Where are you?’
‘Concussion and a nosebleed… They’re letting me out in a minute.’
‘Are they keeping you in overnight?… I am so bloody sorry.’
‘Hospital.’
‘How do you feel?’
There was a long pause and he thought at first they’d been cut off. Then she said, ‘It hurts, Dougie. It really, really hurts.’
Despite the confused cross-purposes of the phone delay, he knew she wasn’t talking about her head. A moment later, Dair’s brusque Scottish tones were on the line and he told Dougie that Kat was fine and he would be informed of any change.
‘It goes without saying that today represents a very serious security breach,’ he said darkly. ‘I want you to reread the brief about next weekend’s hunting party very carefully, Dougie, and it is probably advisable to have no association with Miss Mason in the immediate future. I warn you, there are some pretty incendiary rumours going around, but thankfully nothing has spread yet. You must keep your nose clean. This is much, much bigger than you.’
When Vaughan rang his son back, he said, ‘Seth’s company is currently pitching to be a part of a Russian bid to produce flight simulators for the Indian Army. The Russians would rather keep it all at home, but they know that if the licence to develop the simulator software is granted in India, it will make it a more tempting contract for the army. And it would make a huge difference to Seth’s net wealth.’
‘How much is it worth to him?’
‘Seven or eight billion at a guess.’
Dougie whistled. ‘Which makes buying an English country estate in which to entertain the main players a fairly wise investment.’
‘Most definitely. They love their hunting, these Russkies.’
‘Even if it’s outside the law?’
‘That’s part of the thrill. They want to ride over Queen and country like ancient conquerors. They can legally bow-hunt boar in Hungary or go pig-sticking in Spain, even shoot big game in Africa for enough dollars, but hunting deer in the parks of jolly old England on horseback like Henry the Eighth is a real culture kick for a post-Communist self-made man.’
Dougie knew he could trust his father for the heads-up. He only wished it didn’t make him want to hang his own head in shame, particularly when he asked his father if he knew of any Russian arms dealers called Igor who were fond of slaughtering British wildlife.
‘Could be Igor Talitov – known popularly as “I-gotta-lot-of”. Met him on Hay Meredith’s grouse moor last year. Total dipso and a terrible shot, but rather jolly for an oligarch. Lock up your daughters, mind you. Man’s a total lady-killer.’
‘I hope you don’t mean that literally,’ Dougie said weakly.
Dougie lay awake that night, feeling like an unwitting pawn in a game of chess or, more accurately, an animated character in a computer game.
Much as he loathed to admit it, Badger Man was right about one thing. The estate had been bought by an expert in virtual gaming action, and it was the platform on which Seth was designing a very real and ludicrously expensive diversion to entertain his guests. The English Hunting Game, a jolly jape through the woodlands with a spear and a trusty guide providing the walk-through and weaponry. Dougie had battled his way through plenty of virtual worlds drunkenly with friends, but it had never been a big addiction. This time, he couldn’t drop the console and turn away while the characters met grisly ends. He already cared too deeply about those involved, most especially the redhead who was only ever destined to star in Level One of the game, the training level where nobody had big weapons and where techniques and strategies were honed and enemies identified.
Dougie had failed Level One. He wanted to retake it, but it was too late, and he was locked out of Level Two.
He spent most of the night searching the house, but finally located his contract in the sports bag he must have carried as hand luggage from LA. It seemed a lifetime ago. His jagged signature spoke of DTs, fast exits and flirtation, the happy-go-lucky scrawl of a chancer who never read the small print. The contents of the contract were heavily embedded in legalese he didn’t understand. He read it so many times his eyes started to cross, fathoming out just a few basic facts, mostly that he owed back a hell of a lot of money, much of which he’d already used to pay off the worst of his debts in the States. The legal wording was too hard-core to understand more.
He picked up his phone, aware that it was the early hours now, scrolling through the numbers, lingering on Lake Farm, then flicking on to his old friend Milligan, who ran a club in Soho and would be barely warming up for the night: ‘Might need somewhere to hide out, Mil.’
‘Not a problem.’ Mil, who was extremely well connected and largely moral-free, had helped his friend out of several trou
blesome situations, usually when Dougie’s love life blew up in his face. ‘When do you arrive?’
He looked up at the oil painting of the miller’s daughter, now with no nose. It was another reminder of his naïvety. He had shot an arrow into it to show off to Dollar, unaware that he had already shot himself squarely in the foot by signing an unread contract, just as he’d always taken film parts without reading the scripts. The old Dougie might have stayed on for the hell of it, chancing his luck and playing at being a medieval huntsman. Equally, the old Dougie would have thought nothing of taking the opposite path and telling Seth to stick his job, packing up and leaving that night. Dougie figured he could pay back the money eventually, and his inbuilt bravura told him that the dotcom billionaire was hardly going to sue his arse in public, given that what he’d hired him to do was illegal. But that wasn’t what was making him hesitate about leaving Eardisford. It was Kat. He needed to keep his head down and carry on working until he figured out what to do. He couldn’t walk away knowing she thought so badly of him or abandon her before she’d attempted the Bolt, a feat he still worried was close to impossible. And he couldn’t leave Harvey, his hounds and the hunt horses without knowing they were in safe hands. He also wanted to bowl out Badger Man.
