Anthony Eglin - The Blue Rose

One last attempt to reach Compton from a phone in the lobby proved unsuccessful.

They left the comforting warmth of the hotel and stepped into the cool breezy silence of the morning. The sky was a seamless canopy of grey. A street-cleaning vehicle droned its way up the High Street. Otherwise, it was too early for the first rumble of traffic that would later clog Lewes’ steep and ancient streets. They crossed the narrow road to the hotel car park, where Kingston slipped a metal token into the machine at the gate and the red-and-white striped barrier creaked upwards. Kingston struggled into the Alfa and closed the door. Once comfortable, he looked at Alex. ‘Baldie, was that the watchman’s name?’

‘That’s right,’ Alex replied.

Emma had told them to watch out for the day watchman – Archibald, Baldie for short. She’d promised to leave a note for him, to let him know that Alex and Kingston would be there Sunday morning.

The sound of the Alfa’s high-strung engine reverberated between the walls of the old Georgian buildings as they motored up the narrow street. Alex sighed, a long sigh of relief. Finally, they were on their way.

Alex brought the Alfa to a skidding stop on the gravel, facing Compton’s rustic front gate. He glanced at his watch. It was nine forty-five. The trip had taken them longer than he had estimated. Kingston was about to get out of the car but Alex insisted they wait for a few moments. On the drive from Lewes, Alex had told Kingston that he was not going to take one step out of the car until he was absolutely, positively certain that Tyson was chained up or had been given the day off. He’d been bitten as a young boy, he said, and had a scar to prove it.

To satisfy Alex, they waited for a couple of minutes. The only sounds came from the far-off lowing of cows and the uninterrupted birdsong. The sombre sky appeared even more menacing. Alex wondered what had happened to the promised ‘sunny intervals’.

‘Let’s go, then,’ Kingston said, getting out of the car, swinging the long wooden gate open, following its path along the arc that the bolt had gouged out of the dirt. Alex drove through and pulled into the same spot as the day before. Two other cars were parked nearby, a mud-daubed Land Rover and a shiny black new BMW. Kingston closed the gate behind him.

‘Ten to one that’s Compton’s Land Rover,’ said Alex, eyeing the cars. ‘I somehow don’t picture him as the BMW type.’

‘Who belongs to the BMW, then?’

Kingston nodded. ‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’

Alex took the camera case out of the Alfa and slammed the door closed. ‘You really think we’re going to need this?’

‘You may want a couple of pictures for your scrapbook,’ Kingston replied. ‘Let’s see if Compton’s in the office.’

‘More likely at the house, I would think, after a long flight. Didn’t Emma say it was close by?’

‘Yes, she did.’ Alex frowned. ‘I should have parked the car facing the other direction, just in case we have to make a quick getaway. Maybe we should have left the gate open.’

‘No, you never leave gates open in the country. The watchman chap, Archibald, would close it anyway.’

‘Talking of Baldie, that must be him.’ Alex was nodding towards the old barns, forty feet away. An elderly man was approaching. He wore a crumpled Barbour coat that reached to his shins. On either side of his checked cap, puffs of white hair protruded like candyfloss. He was wiry, with a face resembling a worn leather glove, and walked with a slight limp. As he came closer, they could see he had a shotgun under one arm.

‘That’s all we need,’ Alex whispered. ‘An armed guard.’

‘You don’t need to whisper. Emma said he’s deaf.’

‘You must be Archibald, ‘Alex shouted.

‘That’s me. You don’t have to shout. I’m not deaf, you know.’

Alex glared at Kingston.

Baldie gestured towards Alex’s camera case. ‘You must be them fellers from London?’ His accent had a rural singsong charm.

‘Yes, we are,’ said Alex, trying to sound as urbane as the three words would allow.

‘Emma said you’d be here to meet the boss. That’s his car over there,’ he said, pointing to the Land Rover. ‘But I ain’t seen him around yet.’ He tapped a bony finger on his temple, as if to jog his memory. ‘That’s what it was. Emma told me to tell you she took the dog with her – so no one’s going to bother you.’

‘What are you doing with the gun?’ Alex asked, now more at ease knowing that Tyson was no longer a threat.

Baldie put a cupped hand to his ear. ‘Eh? What was that?’

‘The gun. What’s with the gun?’ Alex mouthed the words as he said them.

‘Gonna see if I can get me a brace of rabbits up in the spinney in back of the village. You like a couple, too?’

‘That would be very nice,’ Kingston answered. ‘We’ll check the office then.’

‘You do that,’ said Baldie. He gave them a half-hearted wave and started toward the gate.

Alex and Kingston walked over to the office and knocked on the door. They waited for a moment, then Alex turned the doorknob. It was locked. Kingston put cupped hands up to his temples and peered into the window. ‘Nobody home,’ he said. ‘Let’s go and have a look at Sapphire.’

A ground fog had moved in, cloaking the area in a fine mist. Alex shivered, glad that he’d brought the scarf. Not surprisingly, the gate in the fence that circled the paddock was secured with a new padlock. Alex was relieved that they wouldn’t have to go in for a closer inspection after all. Kingston motioned to him with a beckoning movement. ‘Pass me the camera case, would you, Alex,’ he said.

Alex handed it to him, watching with curiosity as Kingston opened one of the outside pockets, fished around and produced a Swiss Army knife. He held it aloft for a moment and winked at Alex. ‘One of the world’s greatest inventions, me boy!’ he said, starting to probe the lock with the tiniest screwdriver Alex had ever seen. ‘Good – it’s not a tumbler type padlock. Shouldn’t be much of a problem,’ Kingston muttered as he probed with the miniature tool. Alex heard a click and the lock fell open. Smiling smugly, Kingston replaced the little screwdriver back in its ingenious housing inside the corkscrew tool, folded up the knife and put it back in the camera case.

‘I would never have guessed that burglary was among your many talents, Lawrence,’ Alex said. ‘You never cease to amaze me.’

The gate swung noiselessly and easily on its galvanized hinges and they entered Sapphire’s sanctum. A rabbit scurried along one side of the fence looking for a way of escape. The sudden movement made Alex flinch.

They had now reached the planter box. Alex lowered the camera bag gently to the ground. Kingston walked slowly around the box, studying the rose from all angles, occasionally bending down for closer inspection. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he stood back and folded his arms. ‘Doesn’t seem credible, does it, Alex? That something so innocent-looking could be capable of such evil. I’m not sure why we need them, but we might as well take a couple of pictures while we’re waiting.’

‘The light’s very bad,’ said Alex, ‘but what the heck.’ Taking out the Nikon, he put it up to his eye, framed the rose in the viewfinder and adjusted the focus. Just as he was about to take the shot, Kingston walked into the frame, bent down and picked something up from inside the planter box. ‘You’re in the picture – what’s that?’ Alex asked.

‘A marker of some kind.’ He held it at arm’s length attempting to read it.

‘What are you two up to?’ a loud and commanding voice barked.

Alex spun round, lowering the camera, to see two men walking toward them across the paddock.