The Mozart Conspiracy

Chapter Five

London

The present day

Ben walked through the opulent foyer of the Dorchester Hotel and approached the reception desk. ‘Is Miss Llewellyn still in room 1221?’ he asked.

Three minutes later he was walking fast over the soft carpet of the corridor approaching her door. He was thinking of what she wanted and what he could say to her after all this time.

He rounded a corner. There was a guy standing just up ahead. He didn’t look like he was waiting for anyone, and he didn’t look like a guest. He was just standing there with his back to one of the doors. Ben checked the number on it. 1221.

He looked the guy up and down. He was a very big man. He was five inches taller than Ben, about six-four. And he was broad. Probably about twice his weight, maybe 350 pounds. He was wearing a dark polyester suit that stretched too tight over his chest and shoulders. His arms looked as though they were ready to pop the jacket sleeves apart at the seams. A decade or more of heavy steroid use had left his face cratered with acne scars. His tiny head was shaven to a polish and sat on his massive shoulders like a pea on a ruler.

Ben walked up to him without breaking stride. ‘I’m here to see Leigh Llewellyn.’

The big man folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. A flicker of amusement passed over his face. ‘Nobody sees her,’ he said in a bass rumble. ‘She’s not to be disturbed.’

‘I’m a friend. She’s expecting me.’

The wide-set eyes bored hard into his. ‘Not that I’ve been told.’

‘Can you tell her I’m here?’ Ben said. ‘The name’s Hope.’

A short shake of the head. ‘Uh-uh. No way.’

‘You’d better let me through.’

‘Piss off, dwarf.’

Ben reached across to knock on the door. The man’s square hand shot out and the stubby fingers closed around his wrist.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Ben said.

The big man was about to answer when Ben twisted his hand into a lock that was a fraction away from breaking the wrist joint. He bent the arm up behind the guy’s back and forced him down on his knees. Pain was like that. It didn’t matter how big they were.

‘Maybe we should start again,’ Ben said softly. ‘I came here to see Leigh Llewellyn. I don’t want to hurt you unless you make me. All I want is to be let inside. Do you think you can manage that?’

‘OK, OK. Let go.’ The big man’s voice was high-pitched and panicky and he was beginning to shake.

The door opened. Two more men appeared in the doorway. They were both wearing the same cheap suits, but neither was as big as the first guy.

Ben threw them a warning look. ‘You men had better let me in,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll break his arm off.’

A familiar face appeared behind them. They moved aside for her. ‘It’s all right,’ she said to them. ‘I know him.’

‘Hello, Leigh,’ he said.

She stared at him. ‘What are you doing with my bodyguard?’

He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of her voice. There was still that melodic Welsh lilt in her accent, only slightly tempered by the years of travelling around the world and living abroad.

Ben let the guy go and he slumped heavily to the floor. ‘Is that what you call this sack of shit?’ he said.

The other two bodyguards were hovering around the doorway, exchanging nervous looks. The big one picked himself slowly up off the floor, sheepish, rubbing his hand and groaning.

‘You’d better come inside,’ she said to Ben.

He shouldered past the two men and stepped into the room.

Room 1221 was a vast suite filled with the scent of flowers. Pale sunlight filtered in through three tall windows, flanked with heavy drapes. Leigh led him inside and closed the door quietly, shutting the bodyguards out in the corridor.

They faced one another uncertainly.

‘Fifteen years,’ he said. She was still the same Leigh he remembered, still beautiful. The same willowy figure, the same perfect skin. Those green eyes. She was wearing faded jeans and a navy sweater. No makeup. She didn’t need it. The only piece of jewellery she had on was a gold locket on a thin chain around her neck. Her hair hung down loose over her shoulders, black and glossy, just as he’d remembered it.

‘Ben Hope,’ she said frostily, looking up at him. ‘I promised myself that the next time I saw you I was going to slap your face.’

‘Is that what you called me for?’ he said. ‘Now I’m here, feel free.’

‘It didn’t look like you were going to turn up.’

‘I just got your message last night. I came straight here.’

‘I left it days ago.’

‘I was busy,’ he said.

‘Right,’ she snorted.

‘I got the impression you needed my help,’ he said. ‘Now it seems as though I’m not exactly welcome.’

She looked at him defiantly. ‘I don’t need you any more. I panicked, that’s all. I shouldn’t have called you. I’ve got things under control now.’

‘Your reception committee? I noticed.’

‘If you’ve gone out of your way to get here, I’ll make it worth your while.’ Her handbag was lying on an armchair. She walked over to it, took out her purse and started counting banknotes.

‘I don’t want your money, Leigh. I want to know what’s going on.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘You’re putting on a circus?’

She put the purse down. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Why else would you hire a bunch of clowns?’

‘They’re for protection.’

‘They couldn’t protect you from a gang of Quakers.’

‘I had to hire someone. You weren’t there. Just like the other time.’

‘I’m here now,’ he said. ‘I’ve come all this way-at least tell me what’s going on.’

She sighed, relenting. ‘All right. I’m sorry. I’m tired and I’m scared. I need a drink. Want one?’

Ben laid his brown leather jacket on the back of a settee. ‘That sounds like a good start,’ he said. ‘I could do with a decent Scotch, after that crap they gave me on the flight.’

‘You still like your whisky.’ Leigh opened an oriental drinks cabinet and took out a green bottle. He thought he could see a slight tremor in her hand. ‘Single malt?’ she asked. She filled her own glass as full as his. He couldn’t recall that she drank. But then, she’d been a girl of nineteen in those days. So much time had passed. He realized he hardly knew her any more.

She took an agitated sip of the whisky, pulled a disgusted face and gave a little splutter. ‘I’m in trouble. Something happened to me.’

‘Sit down and tell me everything,’ he said.

They sat facing one another in comfortable armchairs either side of a coffee table with an ornate etched glass top. His glass was already empty. He reached for the bottle and poured another double measure.

Leigh brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She swivelled her whisky glass on the tabletop as she spoke. ‘I’ve been in London for six weeks for work,’ she said. ‘Doing Tosca at the Royal Opera. I rent a little flat not far from the Opera House. It was the morning after the last show. I was planning to hang around for a while. I’d been doing some shopping in Covent Garden. I was walking back towards the flat. It’s in a quiet street where there’s often nobody about. I could sense that someone was watching me. You know, that feeling that you’re not alone?’

‘Go on.’

‘They were in a car, a big dark-coloured car. I don’t remember what type. Just following me along at walking pace. At first I thought it was photographers, or some kind of kerb crawler. I was trying to ignore them, walking faster. Then the car swerved up onto the pavement in front of me, cut me off. I tried to go round the other way, but they got out and blocked me.’

‘Can you describe them?’

She nodded. ‘There were three, the driver plus two more. Well-dressed, dark suits. They looked like businessmen. One of them told me to get into the car. When I tried to run, he grabbed me.’

‘How did you manage to get away?’

She smiled darkly. ‘One thing about living in Monte Carlo-some people say it’s a bit of a police state, but at least it’s safe for women to walk the streets. Anywhere else I go, Europe or the USA, I always carry a can of Mace.’

He blinked. ‘You had Mace?’

She shook her head. ‘In free Britain? You must be kidding. I carry a little can of hairspray. While he was hanging on to my arm, I sprayed him in the eyes with it.’

‘Crude, but effective.’

She sighed, leaning her head on her hands, the thick black hair hiding her face. ‘I never thought I’d have to use it,’ she said quietly. ‘It was terrible. I keep seeing it, over and over in my mind. He let go, screaming and rubbing his eyes. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. I ran like crazy. They came after me. I’m a fast runner but they would have caught me if it hadn’t been for the cab that just happened to come by. I told the cabbie drive, just drive. I haven’t been back to the flat since.’ She looked at him with worry in her eyes. ‘So what do you think?’

‘I think that your friends outside aren’t going to help you with this.’

‘It was a kidnap attempt, wasn’t it?’

‘Sounds like it,’ he agreed. ‘People in your position are a target. You’re high profile, you’re wealthy. Unless, of course, someone is out to do you some harm. Do you have any particular enemies?’

Leigh pursed her lips. ‘Not that I can think of. Why would I? I’m just a singer.’

‘A pretty well-known singer, though. Have you ever thought anyone was stalking you, ever received any strange phone calls, emails, letters?’

She shrugged. ‘I get fans trying to contact me through Pam, my PA. People sometimes recognize me and want an autograph for a CD cover, things like that. But never anything you’d call strange or threatening.’

‘When you got away from your attackers and took the cab, did you come straight here?’

‘I’m not that stupid. I thought they might get the number of the cab and trace me.’

He nodded. ‘So nobody knows you’re here apart from the hotel staff?’

‘Just the police.’

‘They’re never much use in these cases.’

‘Well, they took a statement from me and said they’d look into it.’

‘I don’t suppose you got the number of the car?’

‘Ben, it happened so fast…’

‘That’s all right. It was probably either a false plate or a stolen car anyway.’ He paused, measuring his words for what he wanted to say next. ‘Leigh, I have to ask…it’s been a long time since…’

‘Since you ditched me and vanished?’

He ignored that. ‘I meant, we haven’t been in touch for a long time. Did you ever marry?’

‘Strange question, Ben. I’m not sure I—’

‘It might be important.’

She hesitated before replying. ‘It was a long time after you,’ she said.

‘Who is he?’

‘He’s a composer, writes film scores. His name’s Chris. Chris Anderson.’

‘You’re still together?’

‘It only lasted about two years,’ she said. ‘It just didn’t work out. We still meet occasionally, as friends.’ She frowned. ‘What are you getting at?’

‘Kidnapping is just a business like any other, Leigh. It’s not personal. It’s all about money, and if there’s no family or spouse to pay for your safe return, there’s no motive. It’s the ultimate emotional blackmail. It only works if there’s a third party who’s scared enough of losing someone they love.’ He took a swig of Scotch, draining the glass almost to the bottom. ‘There’s only one exception to that rule, and that’s if the victim has K&R insurance.’

‘K&R?’

‘Kidnap and ransom.’

‘I didn’t even know you could take out insurance against that.’

‘So I take it you haven’t got any?’

She shook her head.

‘That means we can largely rule out a financial motive,’ he said. ‘Unless it was an amateur job. Snatch the person first and worry about the details later. But these guys sound more professional than that. And I don’t think it was a case of mistaken identity either. They knew where you were living. Someone had done their homework.’ He paused to take another long drink of whisky. He laid the empty glass down with a clunk on the table. ‘What are you planning to do now?’ he asked.

‘I want to get out of London, for a start. I can’t stand it here any more, trapped like an animal in this hotel. I’ve got to be in Venice in mid-January for The Magic Flute. But first I’m heading for west Oxfordshire, in the country. Dave and his team are escorting me there.’

‘Why there?’

‘It’s a place I bought a while ago. I’ve been thinking of setting up an opera school.’

‘Who knows about it?’

‘Nobody yet, apart from myself, my PA and my business manager,’ she said. ‘At the moment it’s still just a big old empty house with nothing but a few boxes of stuff sent over from Monte Carlo. I haven’t got around to furnishing it. But it’s liveable in. I’ll stay there for a few days until I decide what to do next.’

‘I’ll tell you what you need to do,’ Ben said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. ‘First thing, you need to ditch those idiots outside. They’re a liability. I could have been anybody walking in here. They didn’t even slow me down.’

She nodded. ‘You’ve put things into perspective a little. So, say I agree to ditch them right away. What next?’

‘You want me to step in?’

‘That’s what I was hoping,’ she said.

‘I’m not a bodyguard, Leigh. It isn’t what I do. But I know people. We’ll get you some proper protection.’

She looked unhappy. ‘Why should I exchange one bunch of heavies for another?’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘The people I have in mind are professionals. The real thing. You would barely even know they were there, but you’d be safe. I know, I trained them.’

‘I’d feel safer with you,’ she said.

‘Even after what I did to you?’

‘You won’t let me down again?’ she asked. ‘Not this time?’

He sighed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t let you down again.’