Dick Francis - Under Orders

‘He said the way to you was through your girlfriend.’

It nearly was.

‘Peter is not very bright,’ I said.

‘He’s cleverer than you,’ she said, loyal to the last.

‘If he was,’ I said, ‘he would have killed you before you had the chance to tell me what you have.’

‘But he loves me,’ said Juliet. ‘He wouldn’t harm me.’

She wasn’t very bright either.

‘As you like,’ I said, ‘but if I were you, I’d watch your back. You can’t testify against him if you’re dead.’

She sat there looking at me. I don’t know if she believed me or not, but I had sown a seed of doubt.

I jerked my head at Chris to come out with me into the hall. I removed the key from my pocket and unlocked the door. Juliet remained sitting in the chair looking at her hands. I wondered if she was beginning to regret talking to us. As an afterthought, I took the video camera and the tapes out into the hall with me.

‘I simply can’t believe this!’ exclaimed Chris as I shut the door of the den behind us. ‘How the hell did you work it all out? And what now?’

‘First you had better get on and write your piece,’ I said. ‘If Juliet is charged, you won’t be able to publish. It will be sub judice .’

‘Blimey,’ said Chris, ‘you’re so right. What will you do with her now?’

‘I’d like to strangle the little bitch,’ I said.

‘You can’t,’ he said. ‘You’ve only got one hand.’

I smiled at him. It had broken the tension.

‘I suppose I’ll give these to the police,’ I said, indicating the tapes. ‘Then I’ll let them get on with it.’

‘What’s on those tapes will surely be inadmissible in a court,’ he said.

‘Probably, but I reckon the police will be able to get the same information from Juliet as I have done. Even if they don’t do the same deal.’

‘Well, don’t give it to them until my piece has appeared in print,’ he said.

‘Your article might prejudice a court case,’ I said.

‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I want to expose Peter Enstone as the bastard he is. And I also want to make his upstart father squirm with front-page headlines.’

I wanted it, too.

In the end, Juliet accepted an invitation from Chris Beecher to be put up in a swish hotel for a night or two. He made out that it was for her own safety, but he and I both knew that really it was to allow time for him to write his piece and get it published before the police or the courts stuck their noses in and put a stop on the story.

I went back to London to relieve Charles from his guard duties in Ebury Street and found him snoring on the sofa.

‘Right little Cerberus, aren’t we?’ I said to him, shaking his foot. I was not best pleased. ‘I thought I left you on guard and you’re bloody asleep.’

‘What?’ he said, rubbing his eyes.

‘Never mind.’

All appeared well, however, and there was no point in making a fuss. And I had offered him my bottle of single malt for lunch, so what did I expect?

Marina was in the bedroom resting her leg as instructed and watching an afternoon game show on the television. A huge basket arrangement of pink and white carnations sat on her dressing table.

‘Lovely flowers,’ I said.

‘Yes, aren’t they? Colleagues at the Institute sent them,’ she said. ‘Rosie probably organised it.’

‘And how do you feel?’ I asked.

‘Bored, but mending,’ she said. ‘Did your plan work well?’

‘Yes,’ I said, and told her all about my little chat with Juliet.

‘So, Peter Enstone shot me,’ Marina said finally.

‘Yes, I think he did. Unless he organised someone else to do it and that’s very unlikely.’

‘And where exactly is the little swine now?’ she asked.

‘According to the Racing Post , he was in Scotland, riding at Kelso races this afternoon. That’s why I was so keen to talk to Juliet today, while he was out of the way. I don’t know where he will go from there. I think he lives in London somewhere.’

Marina shivered. ‘I don’t want him coming here.’

‘He won’t get past Security downstairs, even if he does,’ I said. ‘And I’m not having you left alone anyway.’

‘Sid,’ Charles called from the hallway. He put his head round the door. ‘I think I’ll go back to my club now, if that’s all right.’

I felt guilty for having been angry with him.

‘Of course, Charles,’ I said. ‘And thank you so much for coming over and spending the time with Marina this afternoon.’

‘Humph,’ he muttered. He was not greatly soothed. ‘See you then.’

His head disappeared for a moment but then came back round the door. ‘I forgot,’ he said. ‘Jenny asked me to ask you, Marina, if you would be up to going out for lunch with her tomorrow? If yes, she said that she’d pick you up from here at twelve thirty in the car.’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. I was worried about what reaction the next day’s edition of The Pump might produce.

‘I’d love to,’ said Marina. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t fuss.’

‘OK,’ I said, ‘but I am going to organise a security guard to go with you, and no arguments. He will sit quietly in the corner of the restaurant and not disturb you, but I would be happier.’

‘Fine,’ said Marina. ‘Charles, tell Jenny that would be lovely and I will see her tomorrow at twelve thirty.’

‘Right,’ he said, and disappeared again.

I went out to see him off and make my peace with his wounded pride.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so cross when I found you asleep.’

‘No, it’s all right,’ he said. ‘It is me who should be sorry. During the First World War soldiers in the British Army could be executed for falling asleep on guard duty.’

‘That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?’ I said.

‘Not at all. One dozing sentry could have allowed a surprise attack that might have killed hundreds.’

‘Thankfully, nothing like that happened here.’

We shook hands warmly and I walked him to the lift.

‘I’ll pop round tomorrow,’ said Charles, ‘to see the girls when they get back from lunch.’

‘That would be great,’ I said. ‘But take care. Mount Vesuvius has nothing on the eruption that’s going to occur tomorrow morning when The Pump comes out. Don’t get in the way of the molten lava. It might be dangerous.’

‘I’ll be careful,’ he said. ‘I’ve dodged more than my share of molten metal in my life.’ He had been a junior officer on HMS Amethyst during the Yangtze incident.

I decided that, much as I loved him, I should no longer place Marina’s security in the hands of a septuagenarian retired naval admiral with a penchant for single malt whisky, so I called a fellow private sleuth who worked for a firm that had a bodyguard department and asked for their help.

Certainly, Mr Halley, they said, they would happily provide a bodyguard for Miss Marina van der Meer, starting at eight o’clock the next morning until further notice. Great, I said, and gave them the address.

As I put the phone down, I began to wish I had asked for their help immediately. I could imagine the presses at The Pump busy churning out tomorrow’s copy with its banner headlines. Poking a stick into a hornets’ nest had nothing on this. I shivered. Too late now.

And tomorrow’s newspaper would be available at about eleven this evening, round the corner at Victoria Station. I looked at my watch. Five hours to go.

I spent much of the evening making duplicates of the videotape from my little chat with Juliet. I had made one copy at Kate’s using her video recorder in the sitting room. Chris had taken it with him as he was pretty certain that, without the actual tape, The Pump ’s lawyers weren’t going to let him write anything about the Enstones.