Death At Willows End Page 13

  “Right, now, how can I be of assistance to you?” he asked as if all the earlier unpleasantness had never occurred, “For the record, I confirm that my name is Alexander DeVere, and as I am sure you are aware, I am a free lance special agent working covertly for the Home Office.”

  A sudden mad whim overtook me, and I decided to play along with him and feed his fantasies. The man was obviously as mad as a hatter, (I wonder why 'Hatters' are always insulted in such a way; something to do with Lewis Carol maybe?) yet clearly had the financial wherewithal to finance his own paranoid dreams of grandeur. Very well, two could play at that game. “Very well,” I lied, assuming a smug air of confidence. “I knew that of course, and I confess that I was testing you; one cannot be too careful in this day and age. Now, DeVere, your Home Office reference code please?”

  “Er, 009!”

  I noted to my satisfaction that his expression changed instantly to one of respect almost tinged with awe. So long as I didn't put my sooty foot right in it with a vengeance I should be able to string him along as much as I wished.

  “Good,” I said peremptorily, “and equally for the record, my number is X101. You will understand that this conversation has never taken place.”

  “Naturally”

  “You have lived here how long?”

  “Twenty two years and three months.”

  “Is there anybody else permanently living on the premises?”

  “Not since my wife died three years ago. I employ a part-time gardener who is actually my contact with the local underworld. He has been fully vetted and is totally trustworthy.”

  “Good. He is not to know anything of my visit.”

  “Fully understood, X101.”

  “Right, then to business. MI 17 is very interested in certain events that took place in this area fourteen years ago. They have been hushed up and disguised in the media and forgotten by most. Recently, certain information has come to light that has aroused renewed interest in the case. As the nearest agent to these events, any information you are able to supply can be of national importance.”

  For a fleeting second I wondered if I had gone too far in assuming that he was a complete idiot, but I needn't have worried; he was.

  “Fourteen years ago you say?” he responded at once with a serious look on his face.

  “Yes. Fourteen years ago you may recall that there was a local tragedy which, at the time seemed to be just that. The culmination of events at that time was a thunderstorm, during the course of which a young girl was drowned in the river. It was reported in the local press as a tragedy, and no great importance was attached to it nationally. However, as a result of new information, a whole new aspect of matters has surfaced. At the moment we are seeking to track down a mysterious man who was seen crossing the nearby footbridge at the time of the tragedy.”

  “Ah, yes, now that you mention the broad details I do recall the incident,” DeVere said, nodding his head sagely. “I wondered at the time if it was all much more than even I suspected the case to be. Yes indeed, I now remember that I feared something much more sinister. I made some notes on the subject, please bear with me a moment X101.”

  He reached down and opened a drawer on the side of his desk, and a few moments later he extracted a file and laid it centrally on the desk in front of him. He opened it up, scanned a few pages until he came to the one that he was obviously looking for.

  “Yes, here we are,” he announced. “Being suspicious of certain activities in the vicinity I made notes and observations in case they would be of use at a later date. The gist of these observations were duly transmitted to the Home Office; naturally they would not inform me of what actions they took as a result of information secretly supplied in code.”

  “In view of the tense and sensitive state of world politics at the time that would have been the correct procedure,” I agreed with due solemnity. The man was obviously somewhat madder than the proverbial hatter, but it was just possible that he knew something that might help me.

  “Having previously observed that there was a small encampment on this side of the river approximately a quarter of a mile from here in the direction of Willows End,” he continued, “I instructed my agent to infiltrate and to discover the identities of the people involved. They purported to be a party of Venture Scouts, which is a useful cover-story for younger secret agents.”

  “Quite.”

  “So, having decided that there was something mysterious afoot I kept a close watch on their activities. I admit that they were very cunning, and kept to a programme of perfectly innocuous activities in keeping with their claimed status. Nothing much happened until the Friday, when I observed a second camp, this time cunningly situated on the far bank of the river. I noted that this camp contained three female agents. On the Friday evening, the two sets of 'campers' went independently to Willows End where they had obviously arranged a meeting. I have been unable to discover what transpired at this meeting, but later the two groups returned independently to their respective camp sites. I suspected that whatever traitorous purpose they were engaged upon would shortly come to a head, and so I naturally kept a covert watch upon their activities. On the Friday night there was a new development. At about half past ten a vehicle was parked in the lay-by outside my property. A man exited the vehicle and went down the footpath towards the footbridge. There was a good moon so I was able to observe activities quite well. At just about the same time one of the three females left the far camp, and crossed the bridge. Although unable to see the actual meeting, which must have taken place on the footbridge, or perhaps a short distance this side of it, I noted that it lasted for close on an hour, following which the unknown man returned to his vehicle and drove off, and the female figure returned to the camp site. The only other thing I noted during that time was that a second female from the far camp had emerged from her tent and appeared to be watching for the return of the first. She withdrew as soon as she could see that she was safely back.”

  “Excellent,” I said as he paused and looked at me.

  “There was no further activity that night,” he continued, “but on the following day, Saturday, both camps were left deserted as the occupants departed on secret business of which I have no information. However, later in the afternoon the groups once again met in Willows End, presumably to exchange information. They departed separately, and returned to their respective camps. Having been concerned over all of this mysterious activity I had in the meantime conducted other enquiries, and discovered that representatives of a very important Chinese trade delegation were due to pass through Willows End early on Sunday morning en-route for the Conference Centre at Larchester. It was thus obvious to me that these desperate terrorists were planning to attack the delegation and produce a diplomatic situation that would be incredibly damaging to the prospects of this country! (Your visit today confirms my suspicion that there was even a wider implication than I was aware of at the time.) I communicated all of this information in code to the Home Office and continued to keep watch. During the evening, two of the three female agents made contact with two of the male. I have no information on what transpired, but I can imagine that the last minute details of their projected assault were being discussed. At mid-evening one of the female terrorists returned to the encampment and conferred briefly with the third. Nothing else happened until about half past nine when the third female returned. Shortly afterwards all the male suspects returned to their own encampment. I continued to keep watch, and at about ten o'clock one female emerged from the encampment and crossed the footbridge. This coincided with the return of the vehicle I had seen the previous evening. This was obviously a pre-arranged meeting, but it took place in a part of the intervening ground not under my direct observation.”

  “Go on.”

  “About ten minutes after the first female had left the camp, a second one followed; presumably to meet up with, and participate in the meeting. She returned some fifteen minutes later and re-entered the te
nt closest to the river. A short while later she emerged, and presently the third female crossed the bridge, and the second figure advanced to meet her. They paused at the far end of the bridge close to the tents, and appeared to be holding a conversation. By this time observation was becoming increasingly difficult owing to the build up of storm clouds, but I noticed the third female figure also emerge, and move slowly in the direction of the bridge. I also caught a glimpse of the male agent on this side of the bridge”

  “Then what happened?” I asked as he paused once again.

  “Quite without warning a flash of lightning struck the camp-site. As I was looking directly at it when it occurred I was momentarily blinded by the flash. When I looked again I saw that one tent was burning, one of the female figures was stretched out on the grass half way between the camp site and the bridge, the second was standing close to the bridge, but I could see no sign of the third.”

  “You mean, she had vanished?”

  “I mean, X101, that visibility was extremely poor, and I was unable to see where she was. It wasn't until the following day that I heard that she had fallen in the river and had been drowned.”

  “I see, and what happened next?”

  “The male figure, presumably the driver of the vehicle in the lay-by, had obviously hurried across the bridge. There was a brief consultation as they went to inspect the figure lying on the bank. At this point the heavens opened, and visibility deteriorated even more. The male figure returned towards the bridge, hesitated for a few seconds with his back towards me as he reached it, and then re-crossed the footbridge. A few minutes later the female figure moved at speed up the path that leads to the farm. Some minutes later I observed that the male agent had returned to his vehicle and driven away. Less than ten minutes later the female that had run to the farm returned with others, presumably from the farm, and later there were representatives of the emergency services, including the police also in attendance. There was no activity from the male camp; obviously they wished to keep their involvement in matters secret. As you say, the whole business was quickly hushed up and labelled 'tragic accident'. Personally, I think it was divine intervention, and that this act of nature saved our country from a disaster, because the trade delegation passed through Willows End without incident.”

  “You did not communicate anything of what you saw to the local police?”

  “Of course not; that would mean revealing my status as a secret agent.”

  “Absolutely, and I am pleased to inform you that your activities and careful observations were of inestimable value. In other fields your work would have been publicly rewarded of course, but in the Secret Service?”

  “Oh, I fully understand, X101.”

  “Just a couple of questions to round matters off.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Firstly, you say that you have the cover-identities of the members of the male camp?”

  “Yes, they were known as Mark Shepherd, Ralph Binning, Tony Richmond and Andrew Parsons.”

  “Excellent, and when did they vacate the site?”

  “Lunchtime on the Sunday.”

  “Very good. Do you have any information about the vehicle and driver that used the lay-by?”

  “Very little I'm afraid. I was unable to see the number plate, and can give no worthwhile description of the driver beyond saying that he gave the impression of being a young athletic male.”

  “Any information about the vehicle itself?”

  “It was a three-wheeled sports-type car; I think it was a Reagan.”

  “Excellent. You have done exceedingly well, and I shall be delighted to put in a good report of your diligence to X 1.”

  “That is extremely kind of you.”

  “And now, if you will be so kind as to de-activate your security system, I shall report back to H.Q.”

  “Of course.” He reached down and pressed a concealed button somewhere farther down his desk and stood up to beam at me in what he thought was an ingratiating manner, “It has been a pleasure meeting with you X101”

  “The feeling is mutual,” I lied, feeling a sense of relief that I was about to escape from the lunatic asylum in one piece, “but remember, not a word, even to your closest associates.”

  “I will reveal nothing, even if it comes to the torture,” he declared stoutly, “Together we will free England of these dark invaders, restore our National Sovereignty and prepare ourselves for the return of E.T!”

  “Ah!” I exclaimed, struggling superhumanly to keep a serious expression on my face. “I see you have been made party to even that secret?”

  He looked at me in a conspiratorial manner and dropped his voice to a whisper.

  “As it happens, he was here only a week ago; he needed to use the phone!”

  Chapter Ten.

  I breathed a heart-felt sigh of relief when I was once again well clear of the house and grounds. Aside from a couple of abortive attempts to get some small degree of sense out of a representative of the local authority a year or two back I have never had cause to deal with any really seriously deranged persons before, and I found the experience quite draining. It is all very well for such people as psychiatrists and the like; they are used to dealing with fruit-cakes all day. Still, I suppose it could have been worse, at least he didn't finish off by saying; 'Beam me up, Scotty'!

  The big question for me was how much credence could I place on the details he had passed on? Dismissing at once all of his highly imaginative ideas of terrorist conspiracies and so forth, at least some of the details he had passed on matched-up with those that I had already gleaned from the maniac's almost equally eccentric neighbour, but did that mean that I could safely accept all of them? How could I tell if some were true and others merely figments of his fevered intellect? On the other hand, if I dismissed his alleged observations out of hand, I really didn't have much to go on at all. I finally decided that until something cropped up to prove his stories all a bucket of hogwash I should accept them as a working hypothesis. As far as I could see, the key to the business was the man on the footbridge. If I could track him down, things would obviously become very much clearer. It also crossed my mind that if the story of the Venture Scout camp was valid, then it was equally possible that the story about the two lots of campers meeting up in the village was true also. I even thought it likely that if they had gone into the village, then they might have gone with the express purpose of visiting one or more of the shops. Maybe a trawl round these would produce confirmation?

  As I completed my walk down the footpath I saw Danny waiting for me on the far side. She was leaning on the rickety guard rail of the bridge, and as she saw me approaching she straightened up and returned my spontaneous wave of recognition. I had to forcibly remind myself that she was my client, not my girlfriend. Each time that I set eyes on her I marvelled that there ever could be such a fantastic looking girl walking around apparently footloose and fancy-free who hadn't been snapped up a long time ago, and I wondered even more why she was having anything to do with anyone so ordinary as myself? Maybe she liked lame ducks?

  “Hi,” she called as I walked up to her. “You sure took your time!”

  “Sorry, just earning my fee,” I returned. “I guess we should be heading back to the car, or our 'locum' might start to wonder where we've got to.”

  She fell into step beside me as we wandered back the way we had come.

  “How did you get on?” I asked.

  “I was just about to put the same question to you.”

  “Ah, but I'm in charge, remember?”

  “Oh, all right,” she agreed, but her tone showed that the banter amused her. If I could keep it up, who knows where it might lead me? I had a quick vision of her using my bedroom and hastily squelched it; not much good crossing a bridge before you've hatched your chickens, or whatever the old saying would have us believe. “I'll admit it was an interesting exercise,” she continued. “It was a good eight or ten minutes walk up to the farmhouse in
these shoes, and although I don't ever remember going there before in my life, I guess I must have done at some stage because I sort of knew or guessed what I would see round the next bend, and when I came in sight of the place it looked exactly as I imagined it would. I must have gone up there once or twice when I was camping; all part of my lost memory I suppose.”