'Right, we'll hit it first. If it's no good, we'll move on to Earl Sternwood's castle.'
We started gathering up our weapons.
Andy Jackson couldn't be sure how long the van had been moving, but he guessed it was about two hours when it stopped and the engine turned off. He'd spent the time persevering with the blade, but the movement of the vehicle and the fact that all the nails on his right hand were now broken meant that he hadn't succeeded. He listened as the front doors were opened. The wind was blowing through trees and he could hear cars in the distance. The curtains didn't permit any helpful visuals. After stopping and starting frequently in the first half hour of the journey-standard city driving he figured-the van had stopped and a helmeted figure in black leathers had maneuvered the motorbike up a plank into the cargo space. He tried to see where they were out the rear doors and was rewarded with a heavy punch to his jaw.
After that the van moved more quickly. He reckoned they'd been on a motorway. Then it was driven more slowly again. Now it was stationary, he wondered if he'd reached the end of his road. He struggled desperately, but still couldn't get the knife open.
The rear doors opened and a torch was shone in his face. He tried to make out the person holding it, but saw only a helmet with the visor down. Was it Sara Robbins? Why was she still hiding her face? Was there some hope, if she didn't want him to be able to identify her later? Then he saw she was carrying something, a motionless bundle wrapped in blankets. Jesus, was it a person? The face and head were covered, though loosely enough to suggest it would be possible to breathe. As he was sizing up the bundle, which had been laid on the floor on the other side of the bike, the torch was switched off. He'd seen enough to realize it wasn't large enough to be an adult.
Andy Jackson was in the dark in the back of the van, but he wasn't alone anymore. He had to see if the new arrival was alive. He slid his fingers back into his back pocket and started trying the knife again. The van's engine was started again and it moved off. Soon it was being driven at speed, presumably back on a motorway. But where were they heading? Andy realized that Matt and the others could have no idea of his location. He had to save himself and the person who had been wrapped in the blankets, if that person was still breathing.
Fortunately Rog's cousin had a half-decent set of wheels, a Suzuki 4x4, and Rog knew where the spare keys were.
'You drive, Dodger,' I said. 'West for the M4.'
When we were under way, I took out my cell phone and called Karen.
'Where are you, Matt?' she demanded. 'You do realize you're looking at prison now?'
'Never mind that,' I said. 'Remember I told you about Sara's birth mother?' She got the name right. 'Yeah, that's her. Can you notify the authorities at ports and airports, especially in the southeast?' I gave a description. 'She might have altered her appearance.'
'What's she done?' Karen asked.
'For a start, she's Lauren Cuthbertson's mother, too.'
There was a pause. 'You mean Lauren Cuthbertson was Sara Robbins's sister?' Karen said.
'Half sister. You'd better advise them that Sara might be trying to go through, as well.'
'They were issued with her details and description after the White Devil case.'
'Yeah, but she might well look different now and you can be sure they'll both have different identities.'
'All right. Matt, please tell me where you are and what you're doing.'
'I'm trying to save Andy's life,' I said bluntly.
'I can send backup.'
'Uh-uh. I have to do this on my own.' I felt Pete's eyes on me again. 'I'm not losing another of my friends. I'll be in touch.' I cut the connection.
'You have to do it on your own?' Boney said ironically.
I caught his gaze. 'If this gets messy, which it could well if Sara's around, you two are in the clear as far as the authorities are concerned.'
'If we don't get wounded,' Rog pointed out.
'Or killed,' Pete added.
'Matt,' Rog said, turning his head. 'Something's been bothering me about the properties Sara bought. Why did she put them in her mother's maiden name? Surely she'd know we might spot that.'
I thought about that. 'I'm not sure she would. I didn't mention her mother's maiden name in The Death List. It's true that the tabloids dug it up, but I think Sara was probably cocking a snook at everyone looking for her. You know, giving us a pretty obvious clue and seeing if we noticed it. Besides, the name on the deeds was Angela Oliver-Merilee, remember? She also used the names she and her brother had been given by Doris. Not many people are aware of them.'
'Why didn't she use Lauren Cuthbertson's original first name, as well?' Pete asked. 'There wasn't one in the files,' I replied. 'For some reason, Doris Carlton-Jones didn't give her a name. Maybe Sara doesn't know about her.' 'I doubt that,' Rog said. 'So do I.' 'Sara will know we went to the flat in Hackney,' Pete said. 'Was Lauren staying there, do you think?' 'Probably,' I said. 'There's no current address for her in Stoke Newington. I doubt it was Sara. She'll be staying in the Ritz or such like.' 'Bit of a risk,' Rog said with a grin. 'I've had enough wordplay, thanks. She's changed her appearance, I'm sure of that,' I said. 'Maybe she used the surgeon who botched Lauren's operation,' Pete said. That struck me as unlikely. It would have been much safer for her to have surgery abroad. But she'd probably given her half sister the money to pay for the op. 'There is a chance she's waiting for us to show up at the cottage,' Rog said, his face sallow in the headlights of the cars coming toward us. I nodded. 'We'll just have to take that chance, won't we? For Andy.' 'Yes, we will,' Pete said forcefully. I kept my laptop on as we sped down the M4. The wi-fi signal was patchy, but as we passed Slough, it picked up and I saw there were no further messages from Doris Carlton-Jones or from Doctor Faustus. When we approached Oldbury, I got Rog to pull in to a lay-by. There was a large house beyond and I picked up a signal. I found a mapping site and downloaded a plan of the village. 'That must be the cottage,' Rog said, checking the description of the property on his laptop. 'There are about a hundred meters between it and the next house.' 'Let's have a look at the cottage's layout, Dodger,' I said. It appeared on his screen. 'Single-story, but long-the two original cottages have been knocked together.' 'What's that?' Pete asked, pointing to a rectangular shape on the end of the building away from the village. 'Shed or guesthouse, according to the spec,' Rog replied. 'How do we do this?' Boney asked. I had been thinking about the training we'd got from Dave. 'Pete, you've picked up some of Andy's lock- picking skills, so you go for the front door. I'll be right behind you. Dodger, you cover the rear in case someone makes a run for it.' 'What if you guys come under fire?' Rog asked. 'Blow the back door in with a grenade and take the shooter from behind,' I said. 'And if the place is booby-trapped?' 'Jesus, Dodger,' Pete said. 'Improvise. Or run away.' 'Screw you, Boney. Dave told us to take every possibility into account.' 'You're right,' I said, trying to calm them down. 'But we haven't much time. Who knows what kind of state Andy's in by now?' They nodded, and Rog drove on. He stopped on the verge about a quarter of a mile before the cottage and doused the headlights. 'Right, guys,' I said, 'let's get geared up. Keep the noise and lights down.' I opened my door carefully and got out. Pete swung open the rear door, and he and Rog started rummaging in their bags. I was wearing jeans and a donkey jacket. I fitted on the headset of my walkie- talkie and pulled a balaclava over the strap. I slipped off my belt and slid through the straps of my combat knife's sheath. I stuck my second Glock 19 into my belt above my backside. The pistol with the silencer would be staying in hand.
'Grenade?' Pete said in a low voice, holding out a bag.
'Don't mind if I do,' I replied, taking three. I shone my torch on them. One was a smoke grenade and the other two were fragmentation. I hoped I didn't have to pull the pins on any of them.
We moved apart and checked that our communication units were working. Then Rog set off across a field, heading for the back of the cottage. Pete and I found a gap in the hedge and went into the large field that went all the way to Sara's place on the other side of the road. We had good cover and were able to get right in front of the buildings. Parting the branches, I saw the property clearly. There were no lights on in the cottage or shed. The nearest streetlight was about fifty meters down the road toward the village, so we would be well obscured from passing cars.
'Let's go,' I whispered to Pete.
He nodded and moved ahead to the gate. When he'd crossed the road and was on the short path to the door, I followed. By the time I got there, he already had the lock- breaking rods out. He fiddled with them for several minutes, but didn't make any progress.
'Looks like there are mortice locks near the top and bottom,' he said in a low voice. 'Sara really doesn't want
