Betrayed (Powell Book 4)

by Bill Ward

  “We work hard and play hard. Scott advocates a very open culture. What can be more natural than the physical expression of our feelings?”

  Powell could tell he was being teased a little but also perhaps tested. “Call me old fashioned but I like to get to know someone before entering into a physical relationship. I find it makes for better sex.”

  “It’s probably a generational thing. You are as old as my parents and I don’t think they even have sex.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Sex is not just the preserve of the young and beautiful.”

  “So you do like sex?”

  “You could teach some of the Newsnight team interrogation, I mean interview techniques.”

  “Sorry, I am very direct.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not easily offended.” Not for the first time around Hattie, Powell decided to change the subject. “Where did you decide to put me to work?”

  “You said you were good at most DIY skills so Scott thought you could work on the long list of things that need fixing around the house. We have leaking pipes, electrics not working and a host of other jobs.”

  “Sounds right up my street. Point me in the right direction.”

  “Dave has been trying to do these jobs for us but the list gets longer quicker than he can fix things. He’s working in one of the bathrooms so I’ll take you to him and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

  For Powell, the rest of the day passed quickly. Dave turned out to be an uncomplicated Welshman, who needed very little encouragement to get him singing. Almost anything Powell said would trigger a song. Fortunately, he had an excellent voice and Powell enjoyed his company. It was good for the spirit, to spend a day fixing things.

  Dinner was at seven and everyone was seated at the long dining table. Powell sat himself next to Hattie and was quickly surrounded by some of the other women. As the new man, he found himself subjected to a barrage of questions, which in the main he was able to answer honestly. His basic cover story was that the loss of his daughter, followed by the death of his friend at the hands of terrorists, had left him questioning the meaning of life and in need of a quiet sanctuary.

  He gently probed why others were at the commune and most people seemed to be either running away from pain or searching for a more spiritual way of life. There were repeated comments about how the world had become too materialistic and mankind was destroying the planet. Powell kept his views to himself but he couldn’t see how hiding away in a commune was helping solve the world’s problems.

  Powell noticed Scott sat at one end of the table, rather like the Lord of the manor. Tommy from the pub sat on one side of Scott and another man, he learned was called Roger, on the other side. Powell hadn’t seen either man during the previous day’s tour of the house and gardens or today. Where had they been hiding away and what exactly did they do for Scott?

  They didn’t seem to fit in like the other members of the commune. Powell very much doubted whether they were at the commune for spiritual reasons. They stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps they were some form of security, which invited the question, why did Scott feel he needed security? Who or what were they protecting Scott from?

  He would ask Hattie about them but he needed to be careful. Over lunch, he had gained the impression, Hattie was reluctant to answer any questions about Scott. Powell didn’t want to seem too inquisitive and make Hattie suspicious.

  After a meal of pasta with a vegetable sauce made from fresh ingredients grown in the garden, a couple of the women invited him to join them for a cigarette.

  “Thanks but I don’t smoke,” Powell declined with a smile.

  “This isn’t tobacco we’re smoking,” an attractive woman in her thirties revealed. Powell was struggling to remember many people’s names.

  “I don’t smoke anything,” Powell emphasised. “I’m a bit of a fitness fanatic and run marathons.” He had run the Brighton marathon one time but his fitness was really derived from his kickboxing training. That wasn’t something he felt he needed to share with his new friends.

  “You look pretty fit,” the woman said, making no attempt to disguise the fact she was flirting. “I might have to take up running.” She walked away before he could answer.

  “Looks like you’ve sparked Carol’s interest,” Hattie laughed. “I did warn you.”

  “You did indeed.”

  “I didn’t know you were a runner,” Hattie continued. “A group of us go running every morning around the grounds. If you want to join us, be at the front of the house at seven. That’s as long as you realise we aren’t Olympic athletes.”

  “I’ll probably give it a miss, thanks. I prefer to run by myself. That way I can set my own pace. I tend to awake about six and run for an hour.”

  “Suit yourself. Do you fancy a game of table tennis?”

  “I haven’t played in years but sounds a good idea.” He remembered Hattie’s comment about playing for interesting prizes. “I assume we are just playing for fun not prizes?”

  “Don’t look so scared. It’s just for fun… This time!”

  As they walked to the games room, Powell noticed Scott and his two shadows leaving the house. Perhaps they were off to the pub.

  Powell’s table tennis skills were proven to be inadequate to compete with the others and it was a good job there were no prizes at stake. He decided to see what was happening in the living room.

  He spotted Carol and another female chatting and drinking from mugs. They both smiled in his direction when he entered the room. As he wanted to find out more about life in the house, he decided to join them.

  “How are you settling in?” Carol asked.

  “So far, so good,” he replied. “But my table tennis skills aren’t up to scratch.”

  “How about your other skills?” Carol asked with a cheeky smile.

  Powell simply smiled in response.

  “We haven’t met,” he said, turning to the second woman and holding out his hand.

  “Kirsty,” she replied, taking his hand. “Good to meet you.” She was a red head with pale skin and a face full of freckles. She was about thirty years of age and spoke with a Yorkshire accent.

  “So how long have you two lived here?”

  “We both joined about eighteen months ago,” Kirsty answered.

  “So I guess you enjoy it here?”

  “We do,” Carol answered. “Here you can be yourself. You don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not.”

  “Why are you here?” Kirsty asked.

  “I suppose I’m running away.”

  “From what?” Carol asked.

  Powell realised how what he’d said might be interpreted wrongly. “I’m not a murderer or anything,” he laughed. “I just needed to get away from everything. I needed time to think about life.”

  “I think you’ll like it here,” Kirsty said with conviction. “And if you discover the meaning of life be sure to let me in on the secret.”

  “I will,” Powell promised.

  “Would you like to celebrate your arrival by partying with us?” Carol asked.

  “I fear I’m going to seem very boring but I need an early night.”

  “That’s exactly what I was suggesting,” Carol smiled.

  “Maybe another time,” Powell suggested.

  “Perhaps he has already made arrangements for tonight,” Kirsty suggested.

  “What do you mean?” Powell enquired.

  “You seemed to be getting on very well with Hattie,” Kirsty replied.

  “I would be careful with Hattie,” Carol cautioned. “She and Scott are very close.”

  “I thought Scott believed in the free expression of our physical emotions.”

  “That’s what he says but he treats Hattie special,” Carol answered.

  Powell sensed a hint of jealousy. Perhaps life in the house wasn’t quite as harmonious as he’d been led to believe. “Look, I’m just not in the mood to party.”

  “Wou
ld you like something to put you in the mood?” Carol persisted.

  “What do you have?” Powell asked out of curiosity.

  “We have most things. I like a joint but there’s coke if that’s your poison and a variety of pills. The only pills we don’t have are the blue ones but think of us as the equivalent.”

  “Sorry,” Kirsty quickly interjected. “I love Carol but she has a bit of a one track mind sometimes.”

  “No need to apologise. I’m flattered by the idea two such gorgeous women would want to party with me. But one of the reasons I’m here is a recent lover of mine was killed by terrorists. So you see, I really don’t feel like any form of partying.”

  “That’s awful,” Carol said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “But I hope we can still be friends,” Powell stated.

  “Of course,” both women answered in unison.

  “We are all friends here,” Carol added glibly.

  “Good. I’ll see you both tomorrow. I’m off to bed.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Scott arrived at the meeting wondering what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the next day. He didn’t enjoy having his evening plans interrupted at short notice. The headlights on the approaching car signalled its arrival long before it came to a halt. The country lane didn’t see much traffic, which was why it made a good spot to meet. It was the only other car Scott had seen in the ten minutes he’d been parked, waiting for them to arrive.

  The car parked directly in front of Scott’s Land Rover, leaving the other side of the road free for any passing traffic. As was the routine, Scott stepped out of his car and walked to the Renault. He didn’t want his muscle knowing all the details of his business. A view he knew was shared by the occupants of the Renault.

  Scott sat in the back seat. The front seats were both occupied.

  “So what is so important you couldn’t tell me over the phone?” Scott asked without preamble.

  The man in the front passenger seat turned around to face Scott. He was in his mid-thirties and had a round face. He shaved his head to hide the fact he was going bald but had a large, bushy moustache. “Someone’s been asking questions about your place,” he answered. “Someone with clout.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know specifically but it’s probably someone in the security services.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “That it was the security services? No, I’m not bloody sure but my boss hinted as much.”

  “Why would the security services be interested in us?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I’ve no idea. What did you tell them, Doug?”

  “I wrote a brief report, which in summary said you weren’t on our radar. But why the bloody hell are MI5 asking about you in the first place?”

  “I don’t know but it could be Hattie’s father. He’s loaded and probably has friends in high places.”

  “You don’t seem very worried,” Doug said.

  “I don’t think there’s any reason to panic. They wouldn’t be asking you such questions if, even for a second, they suspected our relationship so you’re obviously in the clear.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Unless it’s a trap and they were seeing how I would respond.”

  “In which case there’s probably a bunch of spooks about to jump out from the trees,” Scott warned.

  Doug immediately glanced to the trees on the side of the road.

  “Don’t get too paranoid,” Scott continued. “MI5 are interested in catching terrorists so we definitely fall outside their normal remit. If someone was after you, it wouldn’t be MI5. Therefore, I think it’s more likely to be an unofficial enquiry. Someone doing a favour for a friend.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’ll speak to Hattie and get her back in touch with her family. They haven’t heard from her for a long while, which might explain them wanting to check up on us. She can find out if they are responsible for raising your blood pressure.”

  Scott had told Hattie she shouldn’t shun her family. They would be worried and it might lead to trouble. The last thing he wanted was her parents making his life difficult.

  “Perhaps we should lay low for a while,” Doug suggested.

  “I have made promises,” Scott replied. “If I stop supplying then someone else will take my customers. I can’t allow that to happen.”

  “Okay but we need to tread carefully.”

  “We should always tread carefully,” Scott emphasised. “Our business arrangement has been highly profitable for both of us. In fact, demand is so high, I would like to double the size of our next order.”

  Doug raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a big increase.”

  “Is it a problem for you?”

  “No, it’s not a problem,” Doug quickly replied. “I will just need a little more time to source the extra supply.”

  “Is a week long enough?”

  “A week is fine.”

  “Good. Now I want to get back to the house. Much as I enjoy your company, I had a different sort of evening planned.”

  “You lucky bugger,” Doug said, obviously jealous. “You get all the perks.”

  Scott returned to his car in thoughtful mood. He had appeared more relaxed by Doug’s revelations than was the reality. He didn’t like the idea of anyone prying into his business.

  He hoped he was right in his assertion it was Hattie’s father checking them out. He was a known problem, which Scott could handle. Anyone else poking around might signal a risk to his plans. He would make a call in the morning and determine whether he had cause to be concerned.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Powell was up at six and dressed quietly in his running gear so as not to wake anyone else in the house. He’d slept well and not been disturbed by any attractive women trying to sneak into his bed in the middle of the night. He was sure Hattie had been wildly exaggerating the likelihood of such an event. He’d been taken in by the whole preposterous idea, actually believing it was a possibility. It brought a smile to his face.

  There were no signs of life as he went downstairs and out through the front door. He breathed deeply and did a few stretching exercises before heading off at a fast pace. Even though he had only been living in Tintagel a short time, he found it claustrophobic and was pleased to be outdoors.

  It was a good morning for running. A bright sunny day lay ahead with little prospect of any April showers. The cool early morning weather was perfect for running.

  Powell thought about what he’d so far discovered as he ran. He was fast becoming aware that life at Tintagel followed few normal conventions. The relaxed attitude to sex was matched by a similarly liberal approach to drugs. While Hattie’s parents might not approve of such behaviour, Powell wasn’t sure there was anything sinister about Scott or the commune.

  Powell realised he didn’t want to spend weeks living at the house so he was going to have to move things along. Scott’s office was the only room in the house which was locked and might hide secrets. He would have to take a look inside once everyone went to bed.

  The day passed much like the previous one. He spent time with Dave, fixing various problems around the house. He was slowly getting to know more people and found everyone to be welcoming and friendly.

  “Can you drive me to the supermarket?” Hattie asked, late in the afternoon. “I could do with some help with the heavy items.”

  “Of course,” Powell answered, pleased to have the opportunity to spend time just with Hattie.

  It took twenty minutes to reach the out of town supermarket. Powell had driven the shared Land Rover, which belonged to the commune in general rather than anyone in particular and with its huge boot was perfect for a large shopping expedition. He was surprised by how few of the residents had their own car at the house.

  With two large trolleys filled to the brim, he realised why Hattie had asked for his help. They pushed the trolleys towards the car and
Powell unlocked the boot.

  He noticed the two young men approach but continued putting the groceries in the back of the Land Rover.

  “Hello Hattie,” one of the men said, as they came close.

  Powell noticed there was no welcoming smile on Hattie’s face.

  “What do you want, Steve?” she asked, obviously annoyed by their presence.

  “Pete and I thought you could help us out. We really need something.”

  Powell looked closer at the two young men. They both looked scruffy and their hair was unkempt. Their eyes were darting from side to side. Powell could identify the signs of drug use.

  “You still owe me from the last time,” Hattie answered, in a sharp tone. “Have you got my money?”

  “Don’t be like that,” Steve said. “We just want a small hit. You’ll get your money.”

  “I’m not your fairy godmother and I don’t run a charity.”

  Powell had stopped loading the bags and was now watching the two men closely.

  “You heard the lady,” Powell said pleasantly. “Come back when you have some money.”

  Steve completely ignored Powell’s comment. He took a couple of steps nearer to Hattie and withdrew a long knife with a serrated edge from his belt.

  “Give me something now and I won’t cut you, bitch,” Steve threatened.

  “Do it,” Pete encouraged. “Cut the bitch. She deserves it.”

  Powell acted quickly. He took two paces towards Steve and as he started to turn, Powell grabbed the wrist holding the knife and twisted it up behind his back, causing Steve to drop the knife. Powell thrust Steve up against the side of the Land Rover.

  “You shouldn’t play with knifes,” Powell warned. “Someone might get hurt.”

  Driven by desperation, Pete threw himself at Powell without warning. Powell turned Steve back to face his friend and pushed him in Pete’s direction, causing them both to fall to the ground. They were both skinny and offered no real threat so Powell did nothing further.

  “Get in the car, Hattie,” he instructed.

  Steve was first back on his feet. “I’ll fucking make you pay for that,” he threatened.