Ticket to Oblivion

CHAPTER EIGHT

In spite of all the years he’d spent at the college, Dominic Vaughan still found its architecture inspiring, its history uplifting and its atmosphere conducive to study and contemplation. As he walked briskly across the Radcliffe Quadrangle that afternoon, however, he was in no mood to admire the beauty of its Dutch gables or to reflect on the beneficence of John Radcliffe after whom it was named. The small statue of the former royal physician that stood over the gate tower went for once unnoticed. While detectives were searching for his niece and her maid, the Master of University College was engaged in a frantic hunt for his own daughter. Without warning, Emma had unaccountably vanished. Ordinarily, Vaughan would have left the task of finding her to his wife but Cassandra had gone off to Burnhope Manor, so the task fell to him. He was on his second circuit of the college. As he came into the main quadrangle, he stopped and looked around, wondering if there was anywhere he’d missed in his earlier search.

Emma was such a dutiful girl that she always told her parents if she was venturing outside the college. In view of what had happened to her cousin, she was now too nervous even to walk up the High Street alone. It meant that she had to be in the college somewhere. Turning left, her father approached the south range with its looming facade of chapel and hall. There was no reason why Emma should have entered the hall but he nevertheless went inside to make sure that she was not there, even peering under the long oak tables. Framed portraits of former college luminaries looked down unhelpfully from the panelled walls. When he left, he went straight across to the chapel, opening the heavy door to reveal an interior that was shadowed without ever being gloomy. As before, Vaughan could see no sign of his daughter. He walked halfway down the aisle but the place seemed cold and categorically empty. Turning on his heel, he headed for the door until a noise halted him in his tracks. It sounded like the rustle of a dress.

‘Emma!’ he called out. ‘Are you in here, Emma?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, faintly.

Then, to his amazement, she sat up in the pew where she’d been asleep.

He hurried towards her. ‘What are you doing in here?’

‘I came to pray for Imogen — and for Rhoda as well. But I was very tired because I was awake all night wondering what had happened to them. I must have dozed off.’ She rubbed her back. ‘This pew is very uncomfortable.’

‘You frightened the life out of me,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘Your mother made me promise to keep an eye on you but, the first time I looked up from my work, you’d disappeared.’

‘I’ve been here for hours. It’s so peaceful in the chapel.’

‘You always liked to come in here.’

It was true. Even as a child, Emma had been fascinated by the stained-glass windows, her favourite being the one that told the story of Jonah, with the college flag — a feature absent from the Biblical version — fluttering on the ship from which he was thrown. For her younger brother, however, a visit to the chapel was an imposition and a source of continuous boredom. While George had always found the college chaplain sanctimonious, Percy sought him as a mentor. He was so devoted to his theological studies that his decision to take holy orders was a foregone conclusion.

‘I wish that Percy was here,’ said Emma.

‘Why is that?’

‘He always knows the right words to say.’

‘Prayer is always valid if it comes from the heart, Emma. It doesn’t have to be couched in a special language.’

‘Percy is a curate. His prayers are more likely to be heard.’

‘I don’t think God makes petty distinctions like that.’

She grabbed his arm. ‘Are they still alive, Father?’ she asked.

‘I believe so. More to the point, so does Inspector Colbeck.’

‘But it’s been well over twenty-four hours now. Where did Imogen and Rhoda spend the night? Who’s looking after them? How and what are they eating? Why have we had no word whatsoever from them?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no answers to those questions.’

‘I’ve been racking my brains, trying to think of a way to help.’

‘You’ve done all you can do by coming in here, Emma.’

‘George will be upset when he hears what’s happened,’ she said. ‘Sergeant Leeming was going to call on him today. I do wish George was here now. He always cheers me up.’

‘I wish that he did the same for me,’ sighed her father, ‘but he tends to bring more chaos than cheer into my world. His escapades are the talk of the Senior Common Room and the rumour that he lives a decadent life in Chelsea has caused justifiable outrage. In a sense,’ he admitted, ‘I’m glad that he’s no longer here to set tongues wagging.’

‘But he’d know what to do, Father. George was always so practical.’

‘Your uncle has already taken the appropriate steps, Emma. He’s called in detectives from Scotland Yard. Mr Tunnadine might sneer at them but they imbued me with confidence. I put my trust in Inspector Colbeck.’

They met in a private room at Sir Marcus’s club in Pall Mall. Edward Tallis chose the larger of the two unoccupied armchairs, leaving Colbeck to perch on the edge of a much smaller one. Sir Marcus, reclining on a button-backed leather sofa, lifted a questioning eyebrow.

‘I’ve shown the ransom demand to the inspector, Sir Marcus,’ said Tallis.

‘Yes,’ added Colbeck, ‘and I believe it to be genuine.’

‘How can you be sure?’ asked Sir Marcus.

‘Only the person who abducted your daughter and her maid would be able to make such specific demands. It’s an educated hand. The calligraphy is neat and there are enough details to convince me that the person who wrote that letter is holding the two of them.’

‘What should we do, Inspector?’

‘Comply with his wishes.’

‘But he’s asking for a huge sum.’

‘Your daughter’s life is worth far more than that, Sir Marcus. Besides, you have to signal agreement or we’ll never be able to draw him out into the open. Once we do that,’ said Colbeck, ‘we will have a chance to rescue both ladies and have some idea of who kidnapped them in the first place.’

‘Is there any way of getting the money back?’

‘I believe so. But we need it to act as a lure. I take it that you can have that amount in cash ready in the time specified?’

‘Of course,’ said Sir Marcus, indignantly. ‘I’ve already spoken to my banker.’

‘Then all we need to do,’ said Tallis, taking over, ‘is to devise a plan of action. The letter demands that you hand it over in person but that would expose you to unnecessary danger. Since it’s unlikely that this anonymous kidnapper has ever set eyes on you, I propose to go in your stead.’

‘That would put you at risk, sir,’ Colbeck pointed out.

Tallis straightened his shoulders. ‘I’m an army man. I thrive on risk.’

‘You may have done so in your younger days, Superintendent, but you are not as sprightly as you were then. There are three things to remember about the person we are up against. First,’ said Colbeck, ‘I believe that he is or was a soldier. Second, I am certain that he’ll be armed.’

‘Let me take issue with you on the first point,’ said Sir Marcus. ‘How do you know that he is a soldier?’

‘A man in uniform was seen waiting on the platform at Oxford when the train arrived. The one convincing explanation for your daughter’s disappearance is that he cleverly smuggled her away with her maid before her aunt or her cousin could even see them.’

Colbeck did not disclose his belief that Imogen had been in disguise as a soldier herself because that would have argued collusion on her part, a possibility that would have been fiercely denied by her father. The inspector therefore simply argued that a man with military training would be able to plan and execute a daring kidnap in a public place.

‘You said that there were three things,’ noted Sir Marcus.

‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck. ‘He is not acting alone. He will certainly have an accomplice — perhaps more than one.’

Tallis was adamant. ‘No British soldier would dare to behave in the way you indicate. It would be wholly against his moral code.’

‘Not if he was a deserter in search of money, sir. Wearing a uniform, as you know only too well, does not confer sainthood on someone. Every army has its share of malcontents.’

‘Why has this fellow chosen me as a target?’ asked Sir Marcus.

‘It’s because you are rich and famous. Your name is frequently in the newspapers. I seem to recall a sketch of you and your family at a garden party with the Prime Minister. Your wealth and position have attracted someone’s interest,’ said Colbeck, ‘and he has looked for a sign of vulnerability. Unfortunately, it comes in the shape of your beautiful daughter.’

‘I’ll have this devil flayed alive!’

‘He has to be caught first.’

‘Then I’ll go armed when I hand over the money,’ decided Tallis.

‘If anyone should go,’ asserted Sir Marcus, ‘it should be me. I’m Imogen’s father and I want to let her kidnapper know what I think of him.’

‘Antagonising him would be a great mistake,’ reasoned Colbeck. ‘Your emotions would get the better of you, Sir Marcus, and what is needed most of all is composure. Our priority is to ensure the safety of the two ladies. Once that’s been achieved, we can resort to action. That’s why I’m volunteering to act as the go-between tomorrow.’

‘But you’d never pass for Sir Marcus,’ said Tallis. ‘You’re too young.’

‘I can easily add a couple of decades to my appearance, sir.’

‘I am running this investigation, so I am electing myself.’

‘Then I have to overrule you,’ said Sir Marcus, sternly. ‘The inspector is more vigorous than either of us. He should be the person to confront the kidnapper and decide when force can be used.’

‘It will only be when the two ladies are released,’ Colbeck told him.

‘And after my money has been retrieved, I hope.’

‘That will be borne in mind, Sir Marcus.’

‘I insist on being present at the exchange,’ said Tallis, pompously.

‘And so you shall be,’ agreed Colbeck, ‘but we must obey the instructions to the letter. The money is to be handed over at a place that has been carefully chosen. Only one person — Sir Marcus — is to go to the designated meeting place. When I go instead of him, I expect that I will be under surveillance each step of the way. If the kidnapper has the cunning to abduct two ladies in broad daylight, he will also have the sense to bring a telescope. Come to Worcestershire, if you must, Superintendent,’ he said, ‘but you and Sir Marcus will have to remain out of sight.’

Tallis grumbled but eventually he agreed to the plan.

‘What about Mr Tunnadine?’ he asked. ‘He’ll want to be involved.’

‘Clive will do as I tell him,’ said Sir Marcus.

‘Is he aware of the ransom demand?’

‘He soon will be. A letter of explanation has been delivered to his house.’

Clive Tunnadine had never been the most considerate lover but he was rougher than usual that evening, arriving in a temper, falling upon her without preliminaries and, it seemed, taking out his anger on her. Lucinda Graham was pummelled, squeezed and bitten so hard that she called out in protest. Tunnadine smothered her cries with a brutal kiss before thrusting, arching and twisting in pleasure. When he’d finished, he rolled off her and lay panting beside her.

‘I’ll have bruises all over me,’ she complained, rubbing an arm.

‘They’ll soon disappear.’

‘If you sink your teeth into me like that, you’ll draw blood.’

‘I don’t see any.’

‘Why were you so rough with me?’

‘I needed to be,’ said Tunnadine as if it were explanation enough.

Lucinda had been his mistress for over a year now and had enjoyed the privileges that came with her position. He’d provided a house and servants for her. A generous allowance meant that she could afford a succession of new dresses and indulge herself in other ways. His visits were intermittent but he often brought lavish gifts for her. All that he’d given her this time were some painful memories. She nestled against him.

For his part, Tunnadine found her both enticing and accommodating. Lucinda was prepared to do everything that he demanded, whether it was to be as submissive as a nun or as vicious as a wild animal. She adapted to his moods more readily than any of his previous mistresses. It was the main reason that she’d lasted much longer than they did. He stroked her hair with an apologetic hand.

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you,’ he murmured.

‘We usually have champagne beforehand.’

‘I was in a hurry.’

‘You’ve no need to tell me that.’ She stroked his chest with the tips if her fingers. ‘Are you displeased with me?’

‘No, Lucinda.’

‘I felt as if I was being punished.’

‘You were not, I assure you.’

‘Has something happened to upset you?’

‘It’s no business of yours.’

‘I don’t like it when you’re unhappy.’

She waited for a reply that never came. Lucinda knew little of his life when he was not with her. The few facts she’d gathered had come from the newspapers. When parliament was in session, his name often cropped up in reports of debates. Though she had a studied indifference to politics, she nevertheless combed the press for any mention of him. It was from an article in a newspaper that she’d discovered he was about to be married. Though she’d never challenged him on the subject, she was increasingly worried about the consequences.

He moved her brusquely aside and got out of the bed.

‘I have to go,’ he announced.

‘But you’ve always stayed the night before.’

‘I’m too busy.’

‘I was right, wasn’t I?’ she said, sitting up. ‘Something has occurred. That’s why you’re behaving strangely.’

‘It’s not your place to make comments like that, Lucinda.’

‘Is it something to do with your marriage?’

His eyes blazed. ‘Who told you about that?’

‘I read it in a newspaper. Your future wife is the daughter of Sir Marcus Burnhope. You might have mentioned it to me.’

‘Hold your tongue!’ he roared. ‘It’s no concern of yours. I don’t want to hear another word about it. Is that understood?’

‘But I’m bound to wonder what will happen to me afterwards.’

‘Be quiet, I said!’

When he raised his arm to strike her, she cowered on the bed and pleaded for mercy. Tunnadine turned away from her and grabbed his discarded apparel. He dressed quickly in a bruised silence, then stormed out, leaving her bewildered. The cosy world in which Lucinda Graham lived suddenly seemed to be under threat.

‘What did I do wrong?’ she asked, plaintively.

The fact that a hat belonging to Rhoda Wills had been found on a railway line had caused great distress to Vernon Tolley. He brooded on it all the way to Shrub Hill station. Sir Marcus’s behaviour troubled him. Without explanation, he demanded to be taken to the station and seemed to be excessively anxious. Clearly, there’d been an unwelcome development. After waiting until Sir Marcus had left on the first stage of his journey to London, the coachman had driven back slowly towards Burnhope Manor, stopping so that he could pause for reflection in a clearing. Heartened by Colbeck’s promise that his job would be safe and that the missing women would therefore be found unharmed, he’d then been shown the hat that Rhoda had been wearing on the previous day. It robbed him instantly of his faith in the two detectives. What he’d been offered was false hope. If Rhoda’s hat could be thrown from a moving train, she could just as easily be pushed out herself. A search of the line was continuing but limited resources meant that it would be days before the whole fifty-seven miles had been thoroughly explored. Rhoda’s dead body — and that of Imogen, perhaps — could be lying at the bottom of an embankment.

Common sense argued that nobody could have got into their compartment while the train was in transit yet the hat, to him, showed at the very least that there’d been some kind of struggle. It was inconceivable that the two women had argued and resorted to violence. When they’d set off, they were both so happy in each other’s company. A third person had to be involved and there was a way in which he could have entered their compartment. Tolley remembered hearing of a driver who’d been sacked by the OWWR for leaving the footplate of his freight train while it was in motion and climbing back to the brake van so that he could enjoy a drink of beer with the guard. Both men had been dismissed along with the fireman who’d been left in charge of the locomotive. Out of this stray recollection, Tolley concocted a narrative that involved someone who watched the two women getting onto the train at Shrub Hill station, concealed himself under the brake van, then climbed on top of it once the train was haring along. Having made his way along the roofs of the carriages, he lowered himself down, opened the door of the compartment in which the women were travelling and killed them before disposing of the bodies.

It was an absurd idea but, once it had taken hold if his mind, it quickly gained veracity. Instead of walking down the aisle with Rhoda Wills, he’d be attending her funeral. As a consequence of the crime, he would almost certainly lose his position as coachman. The future looked unrelievedly black to Tolley. It was hours before he was able to shake off his despair and return to Burnhope Manor. Having unharnessed, stabled and fed the horses, he wanted some time alone in his room. Win Eagleton had other ideas. She intercepted him on the stairs.

‘I hear that Rhoda’s hat has been found,’ she said, feigning concern.

‘Yes, it has.’

‘I told you that the Mickleton Tunnel would be involved.’

‘It’s just a coincidence, Win.’

‘If they search it properly, they’ll probably find her corpse in there as well.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘Dark deeds have taken place, Vernon. I know it.’

‘Then you know a lot more than the rest of us,’ he said, robustly. ‘You must be the only cook in England with second sight. You’ve probably never even been on that railway. How is it that you can tell exactly what happens on it?’

‘I didn’t mean to upset you, Vernon.’

‘Then leave me alone.’

‘There’s no need to speak so harshly,’ she said, hand on his shoulder. ‘I can see that you’re upset — we all are. Rhoda was a good friend to me. I’ll always remember that. This is a time when we should all pull together for her sake.’ She flashed her gap-toothed smile at him. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Would you like me to bring something up to your room?’

‘Stay away from me, Win.’

‘It’s no trouble.’

‘Stay away,’ he repeated, moving her hand from his shoulder. ‘I need to be alone. I’m not hungry and I don’t need company. All I want is peace and quiet.’ He glared at her. ‘Is that too much to ask?’

Climbing up the stairs, he left her with his rhetorical question hanging in the air. Win was not disturbed by his abrupt manner. He was in mourning for Rhoda Wills. Allowances had to be made for that. Tolley would come round in time. All that Win had to do was to be patient and to wait. When she went back to the kitchen, she wore a smile.

‘When did this come?’

‘It was early in the afternoon.’

‘Who delivered it?’

‘A boy, apparently — he tossed it into the porch and made off.’

‘Did nobody go after him?’ asked Tunnadine, angrily.

‘It would have been a waste of time, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘The boy is not an accomplice. He’s probably just some local lad who was offered a few pence to deliver the ransom note to Burnhope Manor. The kidnapper would never have dared to do it himself. He needed an intermediary.’

‘The inspector is right,’ confirmed Tallis. ‘Forget the boy.’

‘But he might have been able to describe the man who employed him to run the errand,’ contended Tunnadine. ‘He should have been stopped.’

‘Nobody knew what he’d just delivered,’ explained Colbeck. ‘They had no reason to stop him. It might just have been a note from one of the tenant farmers.’

‘If that boy is the son of one of my tenants,’ said Sir Marcus, grinding his teeth, ‘I’ll have the whole family turned out.’

‘That would be cruel and undeserved. Blame the man who sent the message and not the messenger himself. The important point is that your daughter and her maid are being held against their will. We have to rescue them.’

‘And kill those responsible!’ said Tunnadine, vengefully.

When he’d returned to his home after his visit to Lucinda Graham, he found Sir Marcus’s letter waiting for him. It threw him into a rage and sent him hastening to the club in Pall Mall. Sir Marcus was still in the private room with the two detectives. After being shown the ransom demand, Tunnadine was pulsing with fury. He turned on the superintendent.

‘I told you before,’ he snarled, ‘we need more men deployed.’

‘What good would that do?’ asked Tallis.

‘We could surround the area where the money is supposed to be handed over and catch this rogue.’

‘With respect, Mr Tunnadine, that would be a foolish thing to attempt.’

‘A show of force is required.’

‘That’s the last thing we must resort to, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘We will be seen coming. The moment any of the conditions set down in the demand are not met, you may wave farewell to your bride. We are dealing with a ruthless man. If the two ladies do not bring in the reward he seeks, he’ll have no compunction in killing them.’

‘Are you able to read his mind, then?’ sneered Tunnadine.

‘He has not gone to such trouble in order to walk away empty-handed. If his captors can be exchanged for money,’ said Colbeck, ‘they have value. If we fail to cooperate, they will become a burden to him.’

‘We follow your advice, Inspector,’ decreed Sir Marcus.

‘It’s what I would have advised,’ said Tallis.

‘Well, I still think that you’re wrong to give in to him like this,’ said Tunnadine. ‘Think before you act, Sir Marcus. Do you really want to hand over all that money to this despicable villain?’

‘Of course I do not,’ barked Sir Marcus, ‘but the inspector assures me that there’s a good chance that we may retrieve it once Imogen and her maid are safe.’

‘I don’t share your confidence in Inspector Colbeck. All that he has done so far is to “harvest information” and it has got him nowhere.’

‘On the contrary,’ said Colbeck, ‘it was because I took the trouble to gather all the facts before reaching a conclusion, that I was able to dismiss your ludicrous notion that this was a jape invented by George Vaughan. It may interest you to know that Sergeant Leeming has spoken to the young artist and repeated the accusation to him. George Vaughan felt that your claim was nothing short of slanderous.’

‘My nephew would never dare to harm his cousin,’ said Sir Marcus.

‘It was a natural mistake,’ argued Tunnadine, trying to shrug it off.

‘You are rather prone to making natural mistakes, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘I’ll take no lectures from you, Inspector.’

‘I was not aware that I was giving you any.’

‘Let’s get back to the ransom demand,’ suggested Tallis, conscious that he’d lost control of the discussion. ‘We’ve agreed that the sensible course of action is to obey the kidnapper’s demands and to hand the money over, once we’ve established that the two ladies have been released. Inspector Colbeck will act on behalf of Sir Marcus and actually meet the kidnapper face to face.’

‘Why can’t I do that?’ said Tunnadine, tapping his chest.

‘It’s because you are too hot-headed, sir.’

‘I have a right to take on the role — Colbeck does not. We’re talking about my future wife. Who could have a better claim than her future husband?’

‘Listen to the superintendent, Clive,’ said Sir Marcus. You are not experienced in these matters. A trained detective is. The inspector has spent years dealing with desperate criminals. He will be cool and objective. Your impulsiveness could ruin everything.’

Tunnadine was shocked. ‘You wish to hand over this task to a complete stranger, Sir Marcus?’

‘Colbeck is the best man in a situation like this,’ said Tallis.

‘I dispute that, Superintendent.’

‘He’s highly experienced.’

‘I still believe that I have a prior claim,’ insisted Tunnadine.

‘The decision lies with me,’ declared Sir Marcus. ‘If I have to choose someone to impersonate me, then I elect the inspector to go in my stead. Superintendent Tallis is too old and you are too excitable. Let’s hear no more on the subject,’ he went on, stifling Tunnadine’s protest with a gesture. ‘The matter is closed.’

Colbeck took note of Tunnadine’s reaction. Silenced by Sir Marcus, the politician was burning with resentment and smarting from the rebuff. He was not accustomed to having his wishes overridden. Since he’d been quashed in front of the two detectives, he was even more livid. After bidding a token farewell, he marched out of the room with a face like thunder.

Tunnadine was a problem.