Anthony Eglin - The Blue Rose

‘Me neither,’ said Wolff. ‘You expect us to believe all this bullshit?’

‘Look, Wolff,’ Kingston said, exasperation now showing in his voice, ‘I’ll say it one more time. This rose can never be sold. It’s extremely dangerous. It must be confiscated and quarantined immediately.’

Tanaka interrupted. ‘It’s all lies,’ he snarled. ‘Just like the lie you used to get in here.’

‘I only wish that were so,’ said Kingston in a calm voice. ‘You’re in a no-win situation, I’m afraid, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Tanaka was about to explode again when Kingston cut him off. ‘When we leave here, it’s our intention to go straight to the local county health authority and inform them that you are harbouring a highly toxic and dangerous plant. You know that’s automatically going to involve the police.’

‘What proof do you have of all this?’ asked Compton.

‘Lots,’ Alex replied. ‘And we can get it easily enough.’ He looked at Wolff. ‘Give it up, Wolff. It’s worthless.’

‘Shut up!’ Wolff snapped.

‘Where’s Kate? Did you bring her with you? That was the deal.’

Wolff didn’t answer.

Alex kept his eyes locked on Wolff ’s. ‘Where is she?’

Wolff ’s eyes narrowed, his answer was slow in coming. In the pause that followed, Alex caught sight of the figure of a man over Wolff ’s shoulder. He was hurrying across the paddock towards them. He was stocky, dressed in black, and wore dark glasses. The others had noticed him too.

For a moment, Wolff and the man spoke in hushed voices, the man doing most of the talking and shrugging frequently. It became clear that Wolff was furious at what he was hearing. At one point he clenched a fist and stamped his foot hard enough on the ground to raise a veil of dust.

‘I’m leaving,’ said Compton, interrupting them. ‘You want to talk to me I’ll be in my office. You lot can stay here and argue all day long as far as I’m concerned.’ He motioned to Tanaka. ‘Come on, Ken, let’s go,’ he said.

Wolff spun around. ‘You two just stay right where you are. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.’

‘You didn’t answer my question, Wolff,’ Alex said as calmly as he could. ‘Tell me where she is, and we’ll leave, if that’s what you want.’

For a moment, Wolff said nothing. He stood with his feet apart, caressing the left sleeve of his jacket with the barrel of the gun. Ignoring Alex’s pleading, he turned to face Kingston. ‘Poisonous or not, I’m shipping that rose out of here.’

‘The hell you are,’ Tanaka said. ‘This is my rose.’

Wolff ’s face darkened. He muttered something to Marcus, who stepped forward with alarming speed and grabbed Tanaka around the waist, hoisted him off his feet and with a fearsome display of strength, threw him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With a grunt, Marcus strode over and placed a boot on the neck of the groaning and prostrate Tanaka.

Wolff walked over and stood with his back to the rose. ‘No more talk. Compton, you go over there by the rose and stay put. You make any attempt to leave and Marcus will take care of you. Understand?’

Compton glared at Wolff, said nothing and walked over to the planter box.

Wolff looked at his watch. ‘I have to leave, but you make damned sure that rose stays right where it is, Compton.’ He gestured with his gun to Tanaka. ‘Let him go, Marcus.’

Marcus took his boot off Tanaka’s neck and they all watched silently as he slowly got to his feet, clutching his throat and spattered in mud.

‘Get over there with Compton until I decide what to do with you.’

With a scowl, Tanaka turned and walked over to join Compton.

‘Now for you two,’ said Wolff, turning back to Alex and Kingston.

‘You’re making a huge mistake, Wolff,’ said Kingston. ‘You haven’t believed a bloody word I’ve said, have you? You want proof? Okay, let’s all go to Compton’s office and I’ll call the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford, where a young woman who handled the rose died. Then we’ll call a Mrs Cooke, whose husband dropped dead in his greenhouse after hybridizing it. She’ll tell you about two other deaths she knows were caused by the rose, one of them a little boy, dammit!’ He turned and started across the paddock toward the gate. ‘Come on, if you don’t believe me,’ he barked, over his shoulder. ‘It’s your choice. Either that or I’m calling the police.’

Alex picked up the camera case at his feet and started to follow Kingston.

Wolff ’s voice rang out. ‘Sheppard, stay right where you are. You, Kingston, stop! Turn around.’

Kingston was now half-way across the paddock. He looked over his shoulder. ‘You’re going to shoot me in front of a witness? I doubt it. You’re not that stupid, Wolff.’ He turned and continued toward the paddock gate.

Alex’s eyes were riveted on Kingston’s back. ‘Lawrence,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t–’

A shot rang out.

Kingston crumpled to the ground. He wasn’t moving. Alex stared in sickened disbelief.

Kate stood on the painted wood porch of Compton’s bungalow, both hands gripping the wooden handrail of the balustrade that ran across the front of the house. She was trying to make up her mind what she should do next. Stay put until the police arrived, or go back to find out what was going on. Since it was Sunday – she was convinced now that it was – and also in the depths of the country, it could be some time before the police showed up. She still didn’t know for sure whether Alex was here. And what, she wondered, had happened to the caretaker and Marcus? She hoped she was wrong in thinking that the old man would be no match for Marcus. Then there was the shotgun blast – had he shot Marcus? And what about the other man – the American? Where was he and what was he doing?

She stared out over the grounds considering her next move. It didn’t seem a good idea to stay at the house, waiting for the police to arrive. Now Marcus knew where she was, that might be the worst thing she could do. No, she was going back to find out what was happening. She would just have to be very, very careful.

As she let go of the handrail, small flakes of white paint came off on her hands, which were sticky with perspiration. She brushed them off on her jeans and ran down the four steps to the path. Quickly she retraced her steps and was soon back at the barn where she’d last seen Baldie marching Marcus off to God knows where. She wasn’t sure which way to go. Where was everybody? The only sound came from the wind and the leaves falling on the corrugated roof of the barn. Knowing that she had called the police, had they all taken off? Then she heard men’s voices. She couldn’t make out what was being said. She had to get closer.

She took a few tentative steps watching for any movement in her peripheral vision. She was beginning to wonder whether she should have stayed at the house.

The voices stopped.

Kate did, too.

The jarring crack that followed hurt her eardrums. The sound of the single gunshot echoed off the buildings. Ears ringing, she turned and ran to the barn wall, crouching sideways against it as if it would protect her. She waited like that for half a minute or so, but no shots followed. The shot had come from beyond the end of the barn. It certainly wasn’t Baldie’s shotgun.

Edging forward, telling herself to remain calm, she reached the end of the barn. Flattening herself against the rough wood siding, she paused, expecting the voices to resume any moment, but there was silence. The temptation, despite the risk, was too great. She had to step out of the cover of the barn to see what was going on. She only needed to walk a few steps.