He rapidly checked through the house just to make absolutely sure it was empty and there were no surveillance devices inside, which there shouldn’t be but always best to be certain. Everything was fine. Leaving the door open, he gestured to Karen who, with Charlie in her arms and the rucksack on her back, headed towards him. She told him where the stopcock was and the central heating system, and while Marvik tackled both she saw to Charlie in the bathroom, which was upstairs between the two small bedrooms.
Marvik entered the kitchen and emptied his rucksack of the provisions he’d brought with him. He placed the perishables in the fridge, filled the kettle and switched it on. He had a good view from the kitchen window of the lane that led to the village. It was deserted save for a couple of blackbirds.
Karen returned with Charlie in her arms, who was still grizzling.
Marvik said, ‘I’ve brought some food but you’ll need more.’
‘There’s a shop in the village; I can get some tomorrow. I’ve got my debit and credit cards.’
‘No. You’re to see and speak to no one. Don’t switch on your phone. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a phone that can’t be traced and some provisions.’
‘You’re not staying?’ she said, surprised but with a hint of relief, Marvik thought.
‘If you do as I say you and Charlie will be safe here. Is that understood?’
She nodded, her expression deeply troubled. ‘Where will you be?’
‘I don’t know yet – that depends.’ He didn’t say on what and she didn’t ask him.
‘Are you leaving now?’
‘After I’ve made us something to eat.’
He left before it got dark and took the same route back to Eastbourne, over the Downs. He didn’t like leaving Karen and Charlie alone. Not because they weren’t safe in the cottage – they were as long as Karen did as he had instructed, but he wasn’t certain she would. She was strong-willed and intelligent, but if she couldn’t resist switching on her mobile phone then a call from Stephen pleading with her to do as she was asked by his abductor or he’d be killed, or a strongly worded text, which she felt compelled to reply to, might be enough to draw her out of the cottage, or certainly give away her location. Alone, as night drew in, brooding over all that had happened, maybe she would also consider she must have been mad to leave her home with a scarred stranger and be stuck in a cottage with little food, minimal clothing and only the television and her son for company. ‘Not even a bottle of wine,’ she’d joked over their beans on toast. But she had sounded as though she’d have dearly loved a drink. As the minutes and hours ticked by and the adrenaline of their escape over the Downs wore off, he wondered if she’d grow more fractious and more sceptical so that by morning she’d believe she must have imagined the danger and that he was a nutcase. She’d leave and return to her home. She might even try Stephen’s number, or her mother-in-law’s, either of which would seal her death. It had been foolish of him to leave her but he couldn’t stay there. He had to get back to Newhaven Marina. He was expecting a visitor. Had Alec Royden already tried to find him there? If he had, Marvik knew he would return, or maybe he was waiting. Marvik was convinced that Stapledon would have told him about their conversation and that Royden wouldn’t want anyone stirring up the past and besmirching his company’s reputation even if he had nothing to hide, not with a major deal going down. And everyone had something to hide.
Marvik came out into the road where the Landguards lived. The light was shining in the upstairs bedroom and in the lounge. Cars were parked along both sides of the road but there was no one sitting inside them. Nothing looked suspicious. He could enter the house, despite not having a key, but he didn’t see any need to. According to Karen, Stephen wouldn’t have kept anything that could help him find the truth behind the Mary Jo’s disappearance. The same applied to Meryl Landguard’s house. Except in the latter case he might return and find mother and son dead, or one of them dead inside it.
Forty minutes later found him outside Eastbourne railway station. Before taking a taxi back to Newhaven, he called Strathen on the mission mobile. Quickly he relayed all the salient points of what had occurred during the day and his concerns about Karen Landguard staying put.
Strathen said, ‘I’d go there myself but I can’t take Helen. Karen probably thinks Helen’s mixed up in Gavin’s murder. She won’t trust Helen and seeing her might only confirm that you’re the abductor and killer. And I can’t leave Helen here alone. I’m sorry, Art, I can’t help you out this time. We’ll just have to hope that Karen does what you tell her.’
Marvik could hear the tension in Strathen’s voice. He could sense, even down the line, Strathen’s frustration at being hindered by Helen’s presence.
Strathen continued, ‘This mystery crew of the Mary Jo still bothers me and, from what you’re saying, they seem to bother Stapledon.’
‘Maybe Royden will throw some light on them.’
‘Landguard could have set sail for Canada alone. Perhaps his intention all along was never to reach Newfoundland. Duncan Helmslow, Ian Bradshaw and Meryl Landguard all had something to gain from the Mary Jo not doing so.’
‘Would Duncan Helmslow have sacrificed his boat, though?’
‘His company was going down the pan. The Mary Jo was his first and only love and he was damned if he was going to let Almbridge get hold of it, or let it be sold off for a profit when Royden got his hands on Helmsley’s. Perhaps Timothy Landguard is still alive and Meryl Landguard knows full well where he is. She could even be with him abroad, with a passport under a different name.’
‘But would she keep that from her son?’
‘He could have gone to join them. No, I don’t believe that any more than you do, Art, and I’ve never met him. But Timothy Landguard could have wanted to disappear and start a new life somewhere without his wife and that suited Ian Bradshaw and Meryl Landguard. He could have a woman in another country and money stashed away in an overseas account. He made arrangements to be collected by another boat while at sea and scuppered the Mary Jo.’
‘Hence no distress signal. Maybe Alec Royden is on the level then and his donation to the memorial fund was a genuine generous gesture. Perhaps he’ll confirm that when he responds to my message delivered by Stapledon.’
It was just after nine thirty when the taxi dropped Marvik off by the public conveniences and recreation ground outside the marina. There were two cars parked in the lay-by and another one further along the road but no sign of any drivers. It had been a long day, his head was throbbing and the wound in his leg was beginning to play up but he blocked out both. He had to stay alert.
He crossed the road to the marina car park. Moorcott’s boat was in its allotted berth and in darkness. So the accountant hadn’t taken off in fright – not unless he’d driven away in his Aston Martin.
Marvik once again went over his boat. All was secure. No one had entered it. He swallowed a couple of strong painkillers, then froze as he felt a movement on the pontoon. He steeled himself in readiness. His cabin lights were on. He couldn’t see who it was, only an outline of a dark-clothed figure. There was nowhere to hide. Besides, he wouldn’t hide anyway. This was what he anticipated. He knew who his visitor was. Had he come alone, though? Had he come with the intention of killing him?
Marvik’s senses were on full alert for the smell of petrol, the placing of an explosive or the thud of an incendiary device which could be lobbed on to his boat, resulting in a massive fire. He might just have time to leap off the side into the sea.
His heart was beating fast, the adrenaline pumping. He’d left the cabin door open but he didn’t go outside. Instead he climbed silently and swiftly on to the fly bridge, keeping low. Here he had a good view of the pontoon. There were two of them. The bulkier one wore a peaked sailing cap rammed low down over his forehead, dark trousers and a sailing jacket. He nodded to the leaner, bare-headed man beside him, also dressed in dark clothes. The lean man climbed carefully on to the rear of Marvik’s
boat and stealthily made his way around to the cabin door while the other man stayed on the pontoon. Marvik saw him glance rather nervously in both directions and back at the pontoon from where he’d come, towards the car park.
The boat rocked gently as the man entered the helm. Marvik could hear him breathing and sensed him searching it. Was he armed? Then he heard the soft footfall on the steps that led to the upper helm where Marvik crouched. As the head appeared, then the upper torso, Marvik launched himself on it and within a second had the man’s neck in a tight armlock before the bastard could blink or cry out. The heavy-duty torch in the man’s right hand – not brought for illumination, Marvik thought, but for striking – clattered to the deck.
‘You really should get some practice in,’ Marvik growled in the man’s ear as he gripped his arm and wrenched it up his back. ‘Now, do you want me to break your neck or your arm, or shall we go down and invite your mate to come on board?’
Marvik’s grip tightened. The man’s eyes bulged in a face which was rapidly turning blue as the oxygen was being severed. He managed to blink acceptance of the offer and Marvik picked up the heavy torch then thrust the man down the stairs ahead of him on to the deck, still holding him by the neck and in an armlock. Marvik called out to the bulkier man on the pontoon who had already seen them and had started nervously. ‘You’d better come on board, Royden, or would you rather I break your mate’s neck?’
‘No. I’m coming,’ Royden hastily replied and scrambled on board.
SEVENTEEN
Royden held up his hands to show he was unarmed. His face was pale and his expression alarmed.
‘Take off the cap,’ commanded Marvik. Royden instantly obeyed and Marvik found himself studying a round, rugged, strong-boned face with a wide mouth and dark brown, fearful eyes. He was in his late fifties. ‘Inside.’ Marvik jerked his head and Royden eased his way around them. Marvik, still keeping a firm grip on the thin man, kicked the cabin door shut behind Royden. ‘Now that we’re all nice and cosy, shall we talk? Sit down, Royden. Hands on the table.’
Royden did as he was told. Marvik recalled saying the same to Stephen only two days ago. If Royden, and the man in his grip, had abducted Stephen and killed him, Marvik vowed he’d make them both pay. But he was doubtful they were the culprits. He could tell these two were amateurs – they just thought they were tough guys.
He thrust the man he’d been holding away from him so that he fell to the deck. He looked up at Marvik, terrified, coughing. He was younger than Royden but only by about five years. His narrow face was heavily lined and his complexion sallow.
‘Get up. Sit beside your mate and put your hands on the table,’ Marvik commanded. ‘And don’t even think that you can join forces and get the better of me because it would be child’s play to take you both out.’ Marvik thudded the heavy torch into his palm. They’d have a job to extract themselves from behind the table, and by the time they did Marvik would be ready for them. ‘Right, let’s start with names. Yours I know – Alec Royden, Managing Director of Almbridge. Who’s your mate?’
‘Geoff Bowman. He works for me,’ Royden answered as Bowman was trying to clear his throat after almost having his air supply cut off.
‘Doing what? Killing people?’
‘No!’
‘Tell that to the police.’
‘I never killed no one,’ Bowman croaked, moving his right hand.
Marvik brought the torch crashing down on the knuckles of the left one, still on the table. Bowman squealed in pain and put his other hand over the swollen knuckles.
Royden went white. ‘You’ve broken his fingers.’
‘Shame.’
‘You can’t do this,’ Royden protested.
‘Why not? Isn’t it what you did to Gavin Yardly?’
‘I never touched him!’ Royden exclaimed, ‘And neither did Bowman.’
‘But you know him?’
‘I know his body was found at the foot of the cliffs, close to the Birling Gap, but I don’t know how he died.’
‘Bollocks.’ Marvik moved forward. Bowman shrank back but Royden stayed put, though Marvik could see it cost him an effort.
Rapidly, Royden said, ‘I know the police think he was involved in Ian Bradshaw’s death only because I saw that on the news.’
‘And you know he was killed, as was Bradshaw, because of the Mary Jo.’
It looked for a moment as though Royden was about to deny it, then, holding Marvik’s cold hostile gaze, he exhaled and said, ‘I suspected it might be connected but I don’t know how or why and only because Yardly came to see me. He wanted to ask me some questions about the Mary Jo. I told my secretary to tell him I was unavailable.’
‘When?’ rapped Marvik.
‘Three weeks ago last Friday. I swear it. I was on my way to London. I thought he’d gone but he was waiting outside for me by my car. He was muttering on about the Mary Jo, talking nonsense about sabotage.’
‘So much nonsense that he is now dead and so is Bradshaw. And Meryl Landguard and her son have been abducted and probably killed.’
‘But that can’t be right.’ Royden sounded bemused. He made to rub his hand over his face but remembered what Marvik had done to his companion’s knuckles, which were swelling up. Bowman’s lined face was creased with pain. ‘Look, what the hell’s going on?’
‘I’m waiting for you to tell me.’
‘I don’t know anything about why the Mary Jo was lost at sea or what happened on that last voyage. I swear it,’ he added when Marvik made as if to threaten him.
‘Then why did Stapledon warn you that I’d been around asking questions and why come here and try to scare me off?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘We’ve got all night.’
‘Let Bowman go?’ Royden threw a glance at the man next to him. ‘He has nothing to do with the Mary Jo. He didn’t even work for me then.’
‘He stays put. Why are you and Stapledon so worried? Are you scared I’ve discovered that you and he stole money from Helmsley Marine in a fraudulent deal and that was why Gavin had to die?’
‘I’ve stolen nothing,’ Royden hotly denied. ‘Hugh Stapledon was only trying to protect me because I can’t afford any questions being asked now.’
‘Because of the acquisition by Drakes Marine. What’s so big a deal about it?’
‘They’re a major international marine company. I’m to be CEO of the UK operations.’
‘So it’s a lucrative deal.’
‘Yes.’
‘But if the bosses of Drakes discover you deliberately wrecked a salvage vessel and killed four men, so that you could eliminate the competition and sell off what remaining assets there were in Helmsley when you acquired it for a knockdown price in a fraudulent scam you participated in with Ian Bradshaw, they’d run a fucking mile,’ Marvik sneered.
‘I haven’t killed or wrecked any boat,’ Royden pleaded. ‘I wasn’t involved in any financial scam and I bought Helmsley fair and square, but if rumours like that get around it would scotch the deal and we’re within days of finalizing it.’
‘And that was why Gavin Yardly had to die – you couldn’t have him running around spreading rumours. Then I showed up and Hugh Stapledon tipped you off so you and your pathetic mate here thought you’d come and silence me.’ Marvik moved threateningly forward. This time Royden cowered back and Bowman licked his lips nervously.
Royden’s face was ashen as he obviously visualized his precious deal going down the drain. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he whined. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong. I just wanted you to go away.’
‘And your incompetent thug here was hoping to see that I did,’ Marvik spat scathingly. ‘I’m not Gavin Yardly. You’ll have to try a damn sight harder than that to get rid of me. OK, so let’s have the truth and maybe I’ll keep quiet.’
Defeated, Royden said, ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Everything, starting with the Mary Jo and the phoney crew.’
Royden stared at him, confused.
Marvik elaborated. ‘The crew that Bradshaw supposedly recruited.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can assure you they were genuine.’
‘You met them?’ Marvik rapped.
‘No. But—’
‘You saw them go on board?’
‘No. But they must have been on board. Tim couldn’t have managed the job on his own.’
‘He never got to the job. Maybe that was the intention all along. Maybe he wanted to disappear and start a new life somewhere. His wife could claim the insurance money, Helmslow could get the insurance on the boat and Bradshaw his share of the insurance money on the phoney crew and their wages, which he shared with Meryl Landguard because they were having an affair. And you got Helmsley Marine and the contract to salvage the Celeste.’
Royden’s eyes widened. The blood drained from his face. Bowman was looking baffled. His knuckles were turning a deeper blue.
‘That’s just not possible,’ Royden protested. ‘Tim would never have taken off like that or deliberately scuttled a boat. I knew him well; we’d worked together at sea. He was scrupulously honest and thorough, and so too was Duncan. In fact, we all worked together – me, Bradshaw, Landguard, Helmslow, Elmsley and Stapledon – on the same car carrier years ago on the Japan to Southampton route transporting cars. And Duncan certainly wouldn’t have sacrificed his beloved Mary Jo.’
Lost Voyage Page 17
