Lindsay woke at noon to the sound of the phone ringing. She grabbed the receiver and was immediately deafened by a raging Duncan. She lay back and let him rant till he finally ran out of steam. “So what’ve you got to say for yourself?” he yelled for the third time.
“I was in police custody till six this morning, Duncan,” she explained. “I wasn’t allowed to make a phone call. They had got it into their heads that I was withholding information concerning the Rupert Crabtree murder, and they were giving me the third degree.”
The phone crackled into life again as Duncan ’s rage transferred itself to Fordham police. Again, Lindsay let the storm blow itself out. As he threatened for the fourth time to sue the police and have questions raised in Parliament, Lindsay butted in. “Look, it’s all over now, Duncan. It won’t serve any purpose to jump up and down about it. Anyway, I’m on the trail of a cracking good exclusive connected to the murder. But I’m going to have to drop out of sight for a couple of days while I get some info undercover and look up a few dodgy contacts. Is that okay?”
“No, it’s not bloody okay. What is this exclusive? You don’t decide to fuck off chasing whatever rainbows you fancy just because you’ve had a lucky run with a few stories. Tell me what you’re following up, and I’ll let you know if it’s worthwhile.”
Lindsay could feel a headache starting somewhere behind her eyes. “I don’t exactly know where it’s going to lead me, Duncan, but I’ve discovered that there’s an MI5 man involved somehow in the fringes of the murder. I want to dig around a bit and see if I can find out what the intelligence angle is, see what it’s all about. I think it could be a belter, Duncan. I’ve got that feeling about it. One of the coppers has hinted to me that there could be a security angle. But I’ll have to keep a low profile. I might be out of touch for a day or two.” She kept her fingers crossed that the gamble would pay off. There was a pause.
“Till Monday, then,” he said grudgingly. “I want a progress report by morning conference. This is your last chance, though, Lindsay. Piss me about like yesterday again and no excuses will do.” The phone crashing down at the other end nearly deafened Lindsay, but she didn’t mind. She had got her own way, and Duncan was only indulging in office bravado in order to terrorize her colleagues.
Sighing, she got out of bed and quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a thick sweater. She pushed her head round the spare room door to see Cordelia apparently sound asleep. It was good to be home again. The events of the last twenty-four hours had convinced her that in spite of her frequent absorption in her own concerns, Cordelia was still totally committed to her. Grabbing a pocketful of change on her way out, Lindsay headed across Highbury Fields. She was going to have to be careful. It was at times like this she could use Cordelia’s help, but it was so risky to involve anyone else unnecessarily. Lindsay couldn’t justify to herself the act of confiding in Cordelia for her own selfish reasons. She put these thoughts to the back of her mind as she reached the phone box. She wanted to be sure these calls weren’t going to end up on one of Harriet Barber’s phone taps. She called Fordham General Hospital where, under the guise of a close relative, she eventually found a doctor who was prepared to admit that it would now be possible to move Deborah without untoward risk, though he personally would accept no responsibility for this.
There followed a series of phone calls including one to her parents in Argyllshire. She made the necessary arrangements with the minimum of fuss, then headed back home.
She put some coffee on, then stripped off, and dived under the shower. She spent a long time luxuriating in the hot water, putting off the moment when she would have to waken Cordelia and tell her she was about to go missing without a trace again. It wasn’t something she relished, particularly since the business of Deborah still lay unresolved between them.
She emerged from the shower and wrapped the towel around herself. In the kitchen, Cordelia was staring moodily into a mug of coffee. Lindsay squeezed past and poured out her own. She reached across the table for a discarded packet of cigarettes and nervously lit up.
Cordelia picked up the morning paper and began to read the front page. Lindsay cleared her throat and said awkwardly, “Thanks for last night. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t know what would have happened.”
Cordelia shrugged. “Least I could do. I do worry about you, you know. Ready to tell me about it yet?”
“I’d rather wait till it’s all sorted, if that’s okay. I’ve got to go away again for a couple of days.” Cordelia said nothing and turned the page of the paper. “We’re taking Debs somewhere she’ll be safe. Once that’s done, I’ll be able to tell you the whole story. It’s not that I don’t trust you-but after last night, knowing how heavy these people can get, I just don’t want to expose you to any risks. I don’t enjoy being secretive.”
“You could have fooled me,” Cordelia said with a wry smile. “Okay, Lindsay, you play it your way. When will you be back?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll call you when I know.”
Lindsay swallowed the remains of her coffee and went back to the bedroom. She dressed quickly; then she threw knickers, socks, shirts, and jeans into a holdall, grimacing as she noticed how few clean clothes were left in her wardrobe. Everything else she needed was in the car or Deborah’s van already. She finished packing and turned to find Cordelia standing inside the room, leaning on the door jamb.
“You are coming back?”
Lindsay dropped her bag and hauled Cordelia into her arms. “Of course I’m coming back.”
19
Closing the front door behind her, Lindsay felt weariness creep over her at the thought of the day ahead. She got into the MG, noticing how badly she’d parked only seven hours before. The memory of her ordeal threatened to overwhelm her, so she quickly started the car and shot off. Driving, as usual, restored some of her equanimity, and she was fairly calm by the time she reached Brownlow. She went straight to the Red Cross bender and found Jane lying on a pallet reading a novel. Lindsay marvelled, once again, at the ability of the peace women to indulge in perfectly normal activities in such an outlandish situation. Guiltily breaking in to Jane’s much-needed relaxation, Lindsay sketched out what she needed and why. Her sense of urgency transmitted itself to Jane, who agreed to the plan.
Lindsay waited until dusk, then borrowed a 2CV from one of the peace women. Going first to the hospital, she made a brief reconnaissance before heading back to the camp. She linked up with Jane as arranged and hastily they loaded the van with their own bags. Then Lindsay made up the double berth and got Cara ready for bed.
At twenty past seven, Lindsay got into the MG and shot off down the winding lane away from the camp, heading in the opposite direction from the hospital. A quarter of a mile down the road she spotted a set of headlamps in her rear-view mirror. Once she hit the outskirts of the town, she figured, her pursuer, this time in a green Ford Escort, would have to close up or risk losing her. Her calculations proved right. Thanks to her earlier homework, she shook off the pursuit by doubling back down an alley and taking a short cut up a oneway in the wrong direction. Then, driving in a leisurely fashion to a small industrial estate near the motorway, she tucked the MG into a car park behind one of the factory units. Jane was waiting for her in the van. Together they made straight for Fordham General. Lindsay directed Jane into a small loading area at the back of the main hospital building.
Lindsay crouched down beside Cara, who was lying in bed, drifting in and out of sleep. “I want you to promise me you’ll stay here very quiet till we get back. We won’t be long. We’re going to fetch your mummy, but she’ll still be very poorly, so you’ve got to be very gentle and quiet with her. Okay?” Cara nodded. “I promise we won’t be long. Try to go back to sleep.” She stroked Cara’s hair, then joined Jane outside.