A Death for King and Country - A Euphemia Martins Murder Mystery (Euphemia Martins Mysteries Book 7)

by Caroline Dunford

  We stopped. I did not recognise the road. Bertram and Rory lifted out the carpet and carried it off between them. I had no idea what they had planned, but I knew they would not harm the man inside. I hoped they were going to leave their unusual delivery outside a police station. Hopefully, we were far enough away from the town of Southampton that we would not be traced by our descriptions.

  It was then I saw a ship mast pass behind a tree. We were by the docks. My first thought was that we were also by the tea-shop. I scrambled down and made my way quickly across the docks to answer my own call of nature. I emerged from the tea-shop’s facilities feeling much more capable of facing the world.

  Then I saw them.

  Bertram and Rory, the carpet slung between them, trotting up the gangplank of a cargo ship and disappearing into the hold.

  I could not intervene without giving them both away, so I made my way back to the automobile. I did not get into my seat, but paced back and forth in front of the vehicle. I worked myself into a furious temper, so when I heard the ring of nailed boots behind me on the road I swung round full of angry accusations.

  The words died on my lips as I saw the man who had emerged onto the road from some tall bushes. He was no-one I had ever seen before. A jagged scar ran down his right cheek like a villain out of a story book and in his hands he held a sack. I had hardly time to cry out before the sack descended over my head and my feet were swept out from beneath me.

  Of course, I fought back. I kicked and screamed and even tried to bite through the sack. I wiggled from side to side so much I almost fell from his shoulders. I was unceremoniously dumped on a hard floor. Then I felt a blow to the back of my head and everything went dark.

  What awoke me was the smell.

  ‘Pig shit,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Guaranteed to bring the most unconscious person back to the land of the living.’

  Cords bound my wrists and ankles. I opened my eyes and a blinding pain shot through my head. I was lying in straw, facing a dirty wall. Light filtered in from bars behind me, making a shuttered effect.

  ‘So what is the plan to rescue me?’ asked Fitzroy. ‘Knife in your boot? Dare I hope for a gun?’

  ‘Where are we?’ I asked.’

  ‘Damn,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Not quite the answer that I was hoping for. We’re on a pig farm, Euphemia, scheduled to be pig food.’

  ‘They must have followed us when we left,’ I groaned. I began to inch myself up to a sitting position.

  ‘You came here?’ gasped Fitzroy. ‘I don’t know if I am more impressed by your tracking ability, your bravado, or your damn stupidity.’

  I pushed myself up with difficulty on my elbows.

  ‘How about your stupidity in getting caught in the first place,’ I said. Then I caught sight of his face. His eyes were ringed with black. One was so puffed up the eye was completely closed. There was a deep cut on his cheek. Blood oozed from between his teeth. Under it all he was paler than snow. One arm hung awkwardly by his side, broken. My gaze followed the arm down. The fingers on his right hand were twisted and broken. His shirt was torn open and there was blood on his chest. The cheery voice was misleading.

  ‘Dear God,’ I said. ‘What have they done to you?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ said Fitzroy, ‘just a little bit of torture between friends.’

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘I cannot possibly tell you that. They might still be listening and then all my efforts would be in vain.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I am sorry about this, my dear, but it is not going to end well for either of us.’

  ‘What on earth do they want me for?’

  Fitzroy looked down at his boots with his one good eye. ‘My apologies again.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said as the truth sunk it. ‘They think you will help them if they promise to let me go free.’

  ‘I am afraid it is worse than that, Euphemia. These are very ruthless people.’

  I looked at him blankly. ‘I suspect,’ said Fitzroy heavily, ‘that they think even if torture has not worked on me if might work on you.’

  ‘But I don’t know anything,’ I squeaked.

  ‘No,’ said Fitzroy. ‘they will be counting on me to be the gentleman and save you from your fate.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ said Fitzroy, ‘much as part of me might like to, I cannot sacrifice the safety of the nation to save you, no matter what they do.’ He swallowed hard here. ‘Damn it, Euphemia, why did you have to get yourself caught? You’re smarter than this.’

  ‘It was not intentional,’ I said shortly.

  ‘My dear girl, you have no idea what they are likely to do to you.’

  ‘I am not afraid of pain,’ I said.

  Fitzroy’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.

  ‘I fear that will be the least of it. These people are without any moral scruples.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  In which Bertram and Rory cook bacon

  ‘Maybe Rory and Bertram will rescue us,’ I said.

  Fitzroy chuckled. The effort obviously cost him some pain. ‘Ouch, Euphemia. You do know how to keep a man’s spirits up.’

  ‘Rory told me he knew the farmer and his wife did not believe our story.’

  ‘That’s good. Does he know how to contact my department?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Not so good then. You do have a way of bringing a man highs and lows in quick succession.’

  ‘They found the man who was bribed down at the docks.’

  ‘Ah, I did wonder how you found me. It had to be more than chance.’

  ‘We worked it out,’ I said with dignity.

  ‘I apologise. I do not mean to belittle your achievements.’

  ‘Sadly, they appear to have come to naught.’

  ‘It is rather nice to have some company,’ said Fitzroy. ‘You are always excellent company, Euphemia. Did you enjoy my letters?’

  ‘The ones I have read so far were most informative.’

  ‘I should have known you would not read ahead,’ said the spy with another chuckle. ‘You have such a strong code of conduct. It really is your only flaw.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ I asked.

  ‘Wait. Pray for a miracle. I lost my knife carving one of their faces.’

  ‘That must have been the man who kidnapped me.’

  ‘I should have been more careful. To think I should have been luxuriating on an ocean liner. I imagine it will be in the US by now. I have had some trouble keeping track of time.’

  ‘Of course, you do not know!’ I cried. ‘The Titanic sank. Less than one-third of the people on board survived.’

  ‘It sank,’ echoed Fitzroy hollowly. ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘It was assumed you were lost at sea.’

  ‘That’s why no one came. I was beginning to feel somewhat unappreciated … Why did you come, then?’

  ‘You asked me to check if you were dead. The only way I could think of that meant you were still alive would be if you had not got on board the ship. So we came down to Southampton to see if we could find proof that you had got on board.’

  ‘Wait a minute. Back up,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Do you mean you brought Stapleford junior and the butler into my private affairs?’

  ‘I would not be here if I had not.’

  ‘That’s not a recommendation,’ said Fitzroy. ‘God, what a mess.’

  ‘Will they really torture me?’ I asked. ‘It felt almost as if the farmer’s wife was trying to warn me.’ I told Fitzroy what had happened in the parlour. ‘That’s good,’ said Fitzroy, ‘we might be able to persuade her to let you go. She doesn’t sound as if she’s one of the Kaiser’s most loyal servants.’

  ‘Kaiser?’ I asked astonished.

  Fitzroy nodded carefully. ‘You have fallen into what we in the trade call a sleeper cell. The people you have met are either English or have lived in England a very long time, but their sympathy is with Germany. This farm has probably
been running for decades. It is certainly a large business from what I saw of it. The Germans will have funded them in exchange for future favours.’

  ‘Treason!’ I exclaimed.

  ‘From a British point of view, yes, but they may be descended from Germans. They may consider themselves patriots or they may merely be trying to save their skins because they are confident Germany will win the coming war.’

  ‘Will they?’ I asked.

  ‘Hopefully British pluck will prevail,’ said Fitzroy with a lopsided smile. ‘But I do expect there will be a catastrophic loss of life.’

  ‘Can’t you stop it?’

  ‘My dear Euphemia, what exactly do you think I have been doing with my life? I have no shares in banking or arms. My sole aim has been to serve His Majesty and do my best to prevent war if I can. But I am afraid, my dear, sometimes there is nothing for it, but to fight.’

  ‘Can you smell bacon?’ I asked suddenly.

  ‘You can smell it too? I thought I was hallucinating.’

  Fitzroy was in no state to stand, so I began to inch myself up into a standing position using the filthy wall.

  ‘Listen, Euphemia, this is important. If you get the chance, run. Do not think about me. Run and get as far away from here as you can.’

  ‘I am not leaving you behind.’

  ‘Very noble, but I am probably already dead from internal injuries. Besides, I signed up for this. You did not.’

  ‘You are an important asset to His Majesty and as a citizen of His Majesty’s Kingdom it is my duty to do my best to save you.’

  ‘Oh you ridiculous girl,’ said Fitzroy, half laughing, half angry. ‘There is no way …’

  He stopped as we both heard a bolt being drawn back.

  ‘Quick, Euphemia, pretend to be unconscious,’ whispered Fitzroy urgently. As I had just reached standing height there was no way I could obey before the door opened. The farmer’s wife stood in the doorway. She had a kitchen knife in her hand. She threw it at me. I tried to dodge but I was tied up tight.

  The knife landed at my feet and the woman vanished, leaving the door open.

  ‘So she’s not prepared to leave us to burn. Nice woman. Or weak stomach, depending on your point of view,’ said Fitzroy, stretching out his leg towards the weapon and falling short. ‘Don’t just look at it, Euphemia, kick that knife over here.’

  I managed to nudge the knife in his direction and within seconds he had managed to free himself. He cut my cords. ‘Go on, get out of here.’

  I put one arm round his waist and slung his other over my shoulder. He was so weak he could not resist.

  ‘We are both leaving,’ I said.

  ‘Other side,’ commanded Fitzroy. ‘My left arm still works. I can throw the knife if need be.’

  ‘I can’t put your broken arm…’

  ‘Yes, you bloody well can. If you are going to try and rescue me it will be on my terms or not at all,’ yelled Fitzroy in my ear.

  I did as I was bid, though I heard him grunt with pain. I headed for the door. The smell of bacon was stronger now and there were sounds of animals panicking.

  ‘They’ve set the damn place on fire, haven’t they, your boyfriends?’ said Fitzroy. ‘I hope to God they have some idea of where we are. I’d hate to have gone through all that only to end up like a kipper.’

  I dragged us both out into the passageway. Fitzroy was trying to support himself as much as he could, but he was very heavy against me. We could not move quickly. I prayed that Bertram and Rory had set the fire some distance from us. There was no possibility of us being able to outrun flames if they were close by.[23]

  At the end of the passageway I could see the outside. The woman had left the door open behind her.

  ‘Where are we?’ I asked Fitzroy.

  ‘At the back of the house block,’ he answered. ‘If you go for that door we will have to make our way around the entire building.’

  ‘You want us to go further in?’

  ‘Let us hope the fire has not been set too close to the house. Our best chance is the side door. It leads directly on to the driveway.’

  ‘The way we came in. But which direction? I am all turned round.’

  ‘That way,’ nodded Fitzroy. ‘Let us hope everyone else is out saving the pigs.’ He gripped the knife in his hand more firmly.

  We edged along the corridor. Then from up ahead came shouts. ‘Back! Back!’ commanded Fitzroy. ‘We’ll have to go out the other way.’ He put on a surprising turn of speed. We made it out of the open door and into the sunlight. Fitzroy breathed heavily and almost fainted.

  ‘Not sure I can go much further,’ he said.

  Behind us from the house I could hear the sound of running feet. In front of us were rows upon rows of pig pens. Smoke was drifting across them. I could not see the actual fire, but I smelled burning pig flesh. The animals were going mad in their stalls. ‘Come on,’ I said to Fitzroy. ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘You are a most annoying girl,’ muttered the spy, and gritted his teeth, but it was clear his strength was failing. I could not hold him. He was slipping from my grasp, when miraculously Bertram appeared running round the side of the building, quickly followed by Rory.

  ‘Help me!’ I yelled. They rushed over and took an arm each to hold up Fitzroy.

  ‘We have to go that way,’ said Bertram, indicating the way they had come. ‘The fire’s taken hold on the other side.’

  I needed no further encouragement and led the way, with the two of them half dragging, half carrying Fitzroy. Behind us I could hear footsteps. I took a turn to the left, hoping to lose our pursuers by not taking the most direct route. This proved to be a major mistake.

  I ran down the row, thinking to turn at the corner, except there was no corner. We had come up against the back fence of the farm. It was wood and brick, like the sides of the sties.

  ‘Back!’ I yelled to the others, ‘back!’ But it was too late. Derek, plus the scarred man, and three other men looking equally fierce, blocked our exit. We were trapped.

  [23] I did not doubt Rory and Bertram had set the fire. The plan was so ridiculous and flawed it had to be theirs.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Fire in the hold

  The men advanced towards us. All of them were carrying knives. Not kitchen knives, but the kind you use for butchering carcasses. There was determination in their eyes.

  ‘Open the pens,’ said Fitzroy.

  ‘What?’ said Bertram, whose head was practically coming off, he was looking around so quickly.

  ‘The pens. Open them.’

  Rory realised before the rest of us what he meant. He dashed forward and opened two of the pig gates. Four enormous pigs surged forwards and headed towards the farmhands. They were huge porkers and they were setting a fast pace. Panicked by the fire, they formed a solid flank of flesh as they advanced down the passageway. Rory moved forward, opening more and more gates. The panicked animals fled.

  I expected the farmhands to retreat. Frightened pigs are not only large, but fierce. They are capable of biting and mauling. My heart was in my mouth. I prayed Fitzroy’s plan would work.

  ‘Get her over the wall,’ he said to Bertram.

  ‘But you will never make that!’

  ‘I know. Get Euphemia out of here.’

  Bertram looked from my face to Fitzroy’s. Then he set the spy down on the ground as gently as he could.

  ‘I am not leaving you,’ he said. And then with strength I did not know he had, he tossed me up and over the wall.

  I landed on the other side in a heap, bruised but with nothing broken.

  ‘Come on,’ I yelled. ‘Come on.’

  ‘He can’t make it, Euphemia,’ called Bertram. ‘Rory and I will find another way out.’ I jumped up and down helplessly on the other side of the wall. ‘Did the pigs take those men down?’

  ‘No,’ called Bertram and I could hear how resigned he was in his voice. ‘They leapt up on to the sty walls. Rory is runni
ng out of pigs. They will be coming for us soon. You need to get away.’

  ‘I am not leaving you,’ I yelled.

  ‘Yes, you bloody are,’ yelled Bertram and Fitzroy together.

  I put my hands against the wall. Tears were coursing down my face. ‘I am not,’ I said quietly and furiously. ‘I am not. There has to be a way.’

  I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder.

  ‘If you would stand back, ma’am we will have this wall down in a trice.’

  I turned to find myself facing a small group of soldiers. Two men stood behind them in suits looking remarkably calm.

  ‘Stand away, sir,’ called one of the soldier. ‘Fire in the hold!’

  ‘Hell,’ I heard Fitzroy yell. ‘Move, Bertram!’

  The next moment the wall blew apart, throwing dust into the air and clouding my vision. The soldiers rushed in.

  One of the men in suits came over to me and held out his hand.

  ‘It is good to finally meet you, Euphemia. You are a remarkably difficult woman to follow.’ I took his hand and then to my everlasting embarrassment dropped into a dead faint on the spot.

  EPILOGUE

  It seems that from the moment the officer from the SOE had dropped off Fitzroy’s package to me at Muller House, Fitzroy’s colleagues had been following me. They had not expected to find Fitzroy alive, but had taken a professional interest in whatever tasks he had left me to complete for him.

  Fitzroy was livid. ‘Can a man not have any privacy?’ he demanded once we were safely back in a nearby house that the other spies seemed to have commandeered. A doctor had been fetched for him, and he was now a walking, or rather stumbling, mess of bandages and splints.

  ‘I would have thought you would be glad to be rescued,’ said Bertram, who had taken to lying on the sofa in what was clearly a family living room with a bandage soaked in ice-water on his head. ‘I was certainly very pleased to see the fellows.’

  ‘But to follow Euphemia when I had set her on a personal errand. My last wishes in fact. It goes beyond the bounds of common decency.’