Good Deed Bad Deed : A Novel Mystery

by Marcia Morgan

  With her face still turned away from him she mumbled, “We always have a choice.”

  At that point Valerie rang in with her take on things. “It doesn’t matter how it all came about, or why. Take your egos out of it—especially you, Olivia. The only thing that matters now is what we can do about the situation.”

  Olivia maneuvered herself into a sitting position and asked Valerie if she had any idea how much time they had before Lenny’s return, then answered her own question. “Of course you don’t.” She turned to Gareth and said, “Clive—or whoever you are—how is this going to play out? Are you going to help us or not?”

  “If you’d let me finish telling you how I got involved in this insanity, you’d know why I couldn’t help you.” He looked from one to the other before continuing. Whatever hope had been present in their demeanor was gone, and both women sunk back against their respective walls like forlorn puppets whose strings had been let go. Valerie covered her eyes and shook her head back and forth in disbelief, while Olivia just stared at him quizzically, unable to accept the new reality.

  Gareth decided to make his explanation quick and simple. “One call from Lenny to his cousin and my brother is dead. I have to do what he says. I’ve had to do other things besides watch you. I’m now deeply involved in the reason for all of this, and no one has told me what that is.” Neither woman responded to his plea for understanding. He left the room but remained within earshot.

  Olivia said, “We’re so screwed,” and then there was silence.

  * * *

  Ben’s Jaguar was still at the country house, so once they left the museum, he flagged down a taxi and instructed the driver to take them to Ana’s hotel. The afternoon was almost gone, and catching a flight to Madrid with a connection to Pamplona was out of the question. Ana suggested that they enlist the help of the hotel concierge to arrange their travel. They arrived at the hotel and took the concierge aside, quickly explaining what was needed. She agreed to assist them and pointed out that booking an immediate flight would not only inflate the price of the tickets, but could force them to fly first class. Ben confirmed that they would take anything they could get at the earliest possible time. They sat tensely in front of the concierge’s desk and watched as she went online to access flights to Madrid, connecting to nearby San Sebastian rather than Pamplona, due to availability. After a few minutes she looked up and told them what she had found, and what the ticket price would be. Ana sucked air in through pursed lips when she heard the amount. Ben agreed and handed her his American Express card. Considering the extensive security protocols, the flight time required them to be at the airport well before dawn.

  They thanked the woman and went into the hotel bar to sort out the particulars. Ana suggested that Ben stay with her for the night, but he declined, reasoning that he would need to pack a few things for the trip. She hoped his real reason for leaving had nothing to do with what had happened between them. Surely he wouldn’t think she had any expectations, given the situation. But his decision was really about going back to his flat to sleep. He would order a taxi for three-thirty a.m. and pick her up at four. That would easily get them to Heathrow by five. With a take-off time of six-thirty they would be cutting it close. Ana knew that he wouldn’t sleep. She felt the same about her own chances.

  With everything settled they dashed across the street to a pub and had a hot meal. By around eight o’clock Ben had kissed her good night and was on his way home. Ana had gone to her room and hastily repacked her suitcase. A warm bath was next, followed by a bit of television. She dozed off at around ten, after having requested a wake-up call for three-thirty. Back at his flat Ben called to set up the morning taxi service and then followed a similar routine, stress and fatigue drawing him heavily toward sleep. At around two-thirty he awoke to darkness. He felt only slightly rested but got up quickly and prepared to leave. The taxi arrived as requested and soon he was in front of Ana’s hotel. She was waiting just inside the glass doors and rushed out when she saw Ben open the door for her to climb inside.

  The security protocol at the airport along with the waiting had seemed interminable, and Ben was visibly nervous while the plane waited its turn on the tarmac. He had a window seat and stared out at nothing in particular. After he had tapped his fingers on the armrest for a while, he spoke.

  “The first thing we should do when we get to Pamplona is book a room. I heard two student types talking as we boarded. They’re headed to Pamplona—think they’re going to run with the bulls.” He shook his head and said, “Doubt their parents have any idea about that foolishness. They’re worried about finding a room since the festival is already in full swing.” Again he began the finger tapping. “When we land I want to find out where I can rent a car. I’m worried. This festival is bound to make everything more difficult.”

  “One thing at a time. I’ve heard that in Spain money talks more loudly than in some other places.”

  “Then I guess the first thing we do is find a cash point. That’s something I didn’t think of. There’s a limit on how much I can withdraw in 24 hours.”

  “Remember, with your Amex you can get cash—if we can find their office. And I have my bankcard. I can withdraw that daily limit.”

  The plane began to taxi down the runway, picked up speed and lifted, climbing quickly to cruising altitude.

  He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I guess it has to be like you said: one thing at a time.”

  Both were quiet, but the wheels were turning loudly in their heads. Ben admitted to himself that he actually had run off ‘half-cocked,’ which his father had warned against, but he could do nothing else. He was in dire need of a plan—two plans, actually. There had to be one that involved keeping Ana out of unexpected danger. The look on his parents’ face when he announced his intentions weighed heavily on his mind. In spite of his having no doubt about his actions, he regretted causing them further worry. He was filled with determination to return their daughter to them, safe and uninjured.

  Ana reclined her seat, leaned back and began turning her mobile phone over and over in her hands. She knew calls were not permitted during the flight, and yet there was no escaping the need to call her editor. She had more than tested the boundaries of his patience. If she could tell him about the course her interview had taken, he would be enthusiastic and give her carte blanche. He would want to turn the interview into a sensationalist piece, with no regard for the people involved. She wouldn’t do that. Becoming involved with Ben had caused her to question the course of her life in general. She would sooner end her career than use him for personal gain.

  Both were startled from their deep thoughts by the pilot’s voice announcing the descent into Madrid—first in Spanish then English. They brought their seats upright and looked at each other, both letting out prolonged sighs. Disembarkation went quickly and without checked luggage to collect they were soon queued up for boarding the plane to San Sebastian. With less than five minutes to spare they were led across the tarmac and onto the commuter flight. Another delay before takeoff fueled Ben’s anxiety, although it was less than fifteen minutes before they were airborne once again. Flying at a lower altitude gave passengers clear views of the landscape: arid hills tumbling gently into irrigated pastureland; pockets of gray-green forest; roads resembling narrow ribbons strewn across the expanse; and small towns of pale stone and red tile where church spires reached toward the heavens.

  Ana turned her gaze away from the window and toward Ben. “Considering the circumstances, I feel a little guilty being touched by all this beauty I’m seeing. If only the reason for this trip, this adventure, were happy—even romantic.”

  Ben leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. “Me too. Spain has a reputation for being romantic. But the closer we get, the more muddled I feel about what to do first. I was just trying to apply logic when I said the first thing should be getting a place to stay.”

  “I knew that. Try not to worry. I think that
when the time comes, you’ll know exactly what to do, and if per chance you don’t, you’ll have me as backup.”

  “I already told you! You will not get in the middle of any confrontations that might be ahead of us.” Ana’s expression told him to change his tone. He leaned toward her and in a near whisper continued. “You’re just going to function as a sort of ‘mission control’… a liaison between my father and his Interpol cronies—and my Mum. She will be a full time job. I just hope that she’ll be too busy with the other end of this debacle to involve herself in what’s going on here.”

  Sounding serious, Ana replied, “I wouldn’t bet on it.”

  It wasn’t long before they felt the plane begin its descent. Soon it banked, and came around to approach the landing strip. Neither had expected to see the Bay of Biscayne, and the view distracted them from the slightly rough landing. They stepped out of the plane onto the portable stairs and instantly felt the heat of northern Spain’s July sun. Its intense brightness was a startling contrast to the cool mists and soft colors of England.

  The terminal was small, with only one baggage carousel. Ben collected their belongings then asked at the information kiosk for directions to the car rental desk. He was in a terrible hurry, and Ana had to scurry to keep up with him. The selection was meager, due to the time of day, and they had to settle on a small blue coup that would surely cramp Ben’s legs. They were given a map of the route to Pamplona and told it was a trip of about one hour. They hadn’t expected San Sebastian’s airport to be so near the French border.

  As they exited to the parking area that housed the cars, Ben’s mobile rang. He answered right away, seeing the call was from his father. “Dad. What’s up? We just arrived. We’re headed to our rental car.”

  Hugh could tell that Ben was walking and told him to stop and listen. “You need to write this down,” he instructed. “We’ve made reservations for you—two rooms at Gran Hotel la Perla. It’s close to a cathedral. It should be quite central—near the middle of things. I’m sure any taxi driver will know the property.”

  “I’ll be driving, so I need an address.”

  There was a momentary pause before Hugh continued. “Plaza del Castillo… Have you got that?”

  Ben answered that he did, and his father made him promise to check in at least once a day for an update on their end of things. He explained that Interpol intended to have several men placed in Pamplona within 36 hours. He was insistent that Ben wait until they made contact with him at the hotel. Ben gave his father no reassurance, just said he understood what had been put in motion. The call ended, Ben shoved his phone back in his pocket and stood in the middle of the passageway without moving. Curious, Ana approached him and asked about the call.

  “Everything is in motion,” he said. “They’ve booked two rooms at a hotel named Gran Hotel la Perla… It’s somewhere near a cathedral. I have the address.”

  “See? I told you things would begin to fall into place once we arrived. Bless your father for thinking about a hotel. He and his contacts must have pulled some strings to get us two rooms when the town is so crowded with tourists.”

  “Right. Let’s get going.”

  His mind was elsewhere. He had no intention of waiting thirty-six hours to begin the search for his sister and Valerie. Ana spotted their assigned vehicle, and they gave it a quick once-over to spot any damage for which they could be held liable. The engine coughed a bit before warming up, and after two trips circling the roundabout, they found the route to Pamplona.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Earlier that morning an agricultural lorry filled with sheep had broken down, coming to a stop directly on the local railway tracks. The crossing involved was on the route between Swindon station and Paddington in London. It had been necessary to off-load the sheep in order to tow the lorry away. The sheep, however, saw the event as fortuitous and scattered every which way, some escaping into the nearby woods and some deciding to munch grass and weeds between the rails.

  The McKinnons were running late and were concerned about missing their train. Hugh pulled the Rover into the Swindon station car park, found a slot, and told Paris to hurry gathering up her belongings. They had rushed to the ticket window before learning that service to London would be delayed for most of the morning, or until the sheep could be gathered and removed.

  Hugh didn’t look forward to the drive to London, closed in the car with a fretting wife while being plagued by his own concerns. Paris was showing the strain of the whole affair, and Hugh was doing his best to soothe and reassure her, but in fact he was deeply concerned as well and just better at hiding it. He was not only worried about the physical and emotional strain on his wife, but even more so the danger his daughter was facing—and the risk Ben would soon face if he managed to find her. There was no time to wait for the tracks to be cleared, so there was no choice but get back to the Rover and head for London. He had begun to keep Paris with him at all times, and they were due to meet with his Interpol contacts by mid-morning.

  Once on the highway, Paris broke her short silence. “Is there a definite plan of action at this point? When I know how this is intended to play out I think I’ll be able to cope.”

  “It’s important that we look as if we’re keeping to the same daily routine—me dropping you at the museum, or coming in with you.” Paris nodded her head in agreement, and Hugh continued. “We’ll finalize everything today. The last piece of the puzzle can’t be placed until you’re contacted again and given the name of the armored car company that’s been invented by our crooked friends.”

  “Friends? How can you even joke with that word? Evil bastards. That’s who they are.”

  Time and miles ticked away before Paris spoke again. “Where are they going to get an armored vehicle, let alone the two it will take to transport the treasure? Only one would have contained what’s valuable. The other would be a decoy. Under normal circumstances, any robbery attempt would involve a decision by officers about which truck to pursue.”

  Hugh accelerated to pass a dawdling old Mercedes and then said, “Remember, just because a truck is labeled armored doesn’t mean that it actually is armored.”

  “Hmmm … this is an ‘elaborate’ plot, for lack of a better word. It’s almost too intricate—too easy for something to go wrong … for them I hope.”

  “The value of what they want seems to warrant the effort,” Hugh said. “Let’s listen to some music and try to relax a bit before we hit London.”

  “All right, but I’m still not sure I can be convincing enough to ensure they believe I’ve gone along with things just as instructed. You’re with me all the time now, and I was told not to involve you in any way or Olivia would suffer. What cruelty!” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Paris turned to stare out the window, and after a few minutes she had another question. “How can we be sure we haven’t been watched? If they don’t contact me today with the final instructions, it’s bound to indicate that we’ve been made… Isn’t that what they say on American TV?”

  “My darling, you’ve always made me laugh, but in this case it’s not funny. We have to assume that we’ve been watched, at least at times. That’s why it’s important to stick to routine.” He studied his wife’s worried expression then added, “All I can say is ‘fingers crossed’ and do your best. I think your mother lion instinct will work in our favor.”

  Paris shifted in her seat and turned slightly to look at her husband. “I’d like to be a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier and be shut in a room with this gaggle of idiots. Then I could take them on one at a time.”

  Hugh checked the side mirror and looked over his shoulder before pulling out to pass a grocery truck. Once the maneuver was completed he said, “That’s some pretty tough talk for a delicate beauty such as you.” He reached over and patted her knee.

  Paris touched his hand for a moment, obviously comforted by his touch. She then reached forward to turn on the radio, dialing to the quiet music Hugh had sugges
ted. In a serious voice she said, “They say that under the right circumstances everyone is capable of violence.” Hugh didn’t respond. He knew she was right.

  Traffic became heavier as they entered the outskirts of London. It was another half hour before they had reached the museum, parked, and settled in Paris’ office to wait for the necessary instructions. Hugh passed the time thumbing through an old magazine, while Paris set about clearing the clutter from her desk.

  She stopped what she was doing and said, “I must say, I’m very glad Lyle picked this particular week to be gone. I’d hate to have his nose poking into my office and my business while we’re dealing with all of this.”

  Hugh looked up and smiled. “I see you’ve given up on making a friend of him?”

  “Gave up long ago. He’s the least congenial little man I’ve ever met… and punctilious to a fault.” She sighed and continued moving folders around in an effort to stay busy. “I’m hoping that with the new job there will be much less need to interact with him.”

  Hugh looked up again and said, “I had rather hoped I’d be seeing more of you, not less. I’m concerned that the increased workload may be hard on you. Remember? We had talked about you cutting back on your trips into the city.”

  “Any permanent decisions about my job can wait until the children are home, safe, and settled. Until then I can’t think straight. At the start I was just going to fill the position in the interim while they looked for someone. I told the director I didn’t want to move into the other office right away. After I use my position to launch this crazy scheme that threatens our children, I’m not sure the position will hold any fascination for me.”

  As Hugh opened his mouth to comment the phone rang. Paris rushed to answer and her expression told Hugh that it was the call they needed. She said little, except for one-word responses as she wrote something on the tablet in front of her. The call ended and she let out a sigh before tearing off the page and handing it to Hugh.