Threats At Three Part 17

"Can't be too careful, can we, Jack Hickson," the man said. His smile was cold, and Jack curled up tighter. "Your dad is a real Houdini, so it seems, so you've probably inherited his skill."

"Who's Houdini?" said Jack.

"Doesn't matter," said the man. "Let's get down to business, then if you tell me what I want to know, I'll get you something to eat. If you don't, then I won't. Simple, isn't it? O' course, after a while, you'll be so hungry you'll tell me anything, so you might as well start straightaway."

"Sod off," said Jack.

"Now, now," cautioned the man. "You know me from old times, Jack. I never forget. What I want to know is how to find your father. And I am quite sure you know where he is. When did you last see him?"

Jack looked mutinously at the face held so close to him. He thought of spitting into it, but decided that might provoke something too bad to bear. So he said, "When he left home. Mum chucked him out in the middle of the night. He was drunk and making a lot of noise. Us kids woke up, and I got out of bed in case she needed help. I saw him tumble down stairs, and then she threw him out. That was the last time I saw him."

The man slapped him, hard. "Try again," he said. "When did he last get in touch with you?"

Jack fought back tears. "I told you," he said. "I ain't seen him since."

The man raised his hand, and Jack flinched. "I'm telling you the truth, honest!" he said.

"You wouldn't know the truth if it was a matter of life and death," the man said, and added, "which it very well might be."

Jack stared at him, willing himself not to blub.

"Has he spoke to you on the phone? You'd know his voice, wouldn't you? I bet he told you where to find him if you needed him. He was always worrying about his kids, especially young Jack, his firstborn. So you know where to find him, don't you?" He gave Jack a sharp kick on the leg. "Just to remind you what I can do if you don't tell me the truth. And make it soon," he added, hearing a screech from the other side of the door. "I can't waste time with you. I'm needed."

Jack thought quickly. He had no idea where his father was, and he didn't care. But he had to get out of all this somehow. "Well," he said, convincingly slowly. "I did hear he had gone to Scotland. My uncle lives in Carmunnock, just outside Glasgow, and we used to spend holidays there. Nice place," he said conversationally. "My uncle and auntie are nice. My dad's the black sheep." He forced a smile. "Is that what you want to know? Can I go home now ?"

The man looked at him suspiciously. "Are you lying, you little devil?" he said.

Jack shook his head. "No. Sometimes I do, but now I'm not. You know the cops will be here soon, so you might as well let me go. I promise not to tell. I can say I was doing a sleepover with a new friend. If you're quick, you could say you hadn't seen me, or do a bunk yourself. They must be looking for you anyway, leading kids astray."

The man loomed over him, his fist raised. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he hissed.

BY MORNING, THE WHOLE VILLAGE KNEW JACK JR. HAD DISAPPEARED. The early morning telly news had the story, with film of the village and the Hickson's house. Later bulletins had a terrified Paula appealing for help in finding him. The local newspaper had a front page picture of Jack Jr. and one of his mother and the other kids huddling around her.

Jack Sr. had set out from his hut in the woods to go to work at the hall, and halfway there had stopped suddenly at the edge of a field. Something was wrong. He heard the whine of a police car, then spotted a couple of dark figures crossing the next field. They were too far away to recognize, but with the sixth sense that had got him out of trouble so many times, he knew they were policemen.

He did not hesitate. Turning away he ran like a swift shadow in the opposite direction, avoided all roads and well-used footpaths, and did not stop until he was miles away from Long Farnden. He had money in his pocket, and caught the next train that came in to Eastcote Junction. All he knew was that it was going south.

On the seat opposite, someone had left a folded newspaper, and Jack Hickson picked it up. On the front page was a large photograph of his eldest son, smiling at him from years ago, when all had been well. Next to this was a small photograph of himself with Paula, and, stunned and unbelieving, he read the story of his son's disappearance.

"Are you all right, mate?" A railway employee, going off duty, had seen Jack sway, all color drained from his face.

Jack desperately pulled himself together and turned the newspaper facedown. "Might be getting flu," he answered. "It's all round the village," he added.

"What village is that?" said the railman.

Jack ignored the question, and asked what was the next station and how long before they got there.

"Half an hour, we shall be into Southampstead. Is that where you're going?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. I might get a few minutes kip. Can you wake me up if I'm still asleep."

The rail man was sympathetic. "I should have a couple of days in bed if I were you," he said. "Flu's a nasty old bug."

Jack closed his eyes. He didn't want any more questions from this man, nice as he was. He had to make a plan. First of all, he would have to find a map, so that he could get back as soon as possible. There would be one on the station somewhere. He would need to disguise himself a bit. Maybe get an old hat from a charity shop and pull it well down over his eyes. Then he had to find out the quickest way to get back to Tresham. He dare not take public transport. Rage was mounting inside him, driving him on, sharpening his brain and fueling his tired body.

When he got to Tresham, he would know exactly where to go, and who he was looking for. And when he found him, he would kill him.

FORTY.

THE WI SOAP BOX COMMITTEE HAD GATHERED IN LOIS'S SITTING room for a meeting to discuss the final arrangements. The soap box was secretly concealed at the back of the Meade's garage, awaiting a final test from Mrs. T-J. She planned to collect in her horsebox after the meeting, and take it with top security measures, that is, Douglas and Lois on guard, to test it out in private at the hall.

Exciting as this was, the primary topic of conversation was inevitably the disappearance of young Jack. All the women were desperately concerned, except for Mrs. T-J, who said she was sure the young tearaway would turn up. "He has a history of disappearing and not telling his mother where he is," she said, and Lois, not for the first time, was surprised at how well the old lady kept her ear to the ground. "I'm more interested in knowing where my gardener is," Mrs. T-J continued. "I had a long list of jobs for him this morning, and without a by your leave he's gone missing."

"Heavens!" Sheila Stratford said. "Do you think there's a connection? Is it him who's taken young Hickson?"

"Um, I'm sorry to change the subject," Lois said, digging Douglas in the ribs, "but could we talk about the soap box? I know Douglas has to be back in good time this evening."

She had not spoken to Paula since this morning, and then the poor woman had been too upset to say very much. The news that Jack had not turned up for work this morning was about as bad as it could be for him. If it wasn't him who'd taken Jack, or if Mrs. T-J was right, then he'd have done better to stay put and answer the police questions honestly. Oh Lord, what a muddle! Although she hadn't so far done so, it was only a matter of time before Gran said "I told you so."

"How did the painting go, Douglas?" Mrs. T-J was anxious to get through the meeting and set off for her trial drive in Jam & Jerusalem.

"Ask Mum," Douglas said. "She and Josie spent hours on it. The big question was whether the strawberry should be fully ripe."

There was a general laugh, and the meeting relaxed, relieved to have their minds taken off the worrying problem of Jack Jr.

"So we decided on a really ripe strawberry," Lois said. "A nice bright red. And Josie, who is the artistic one, painted a really good label: *JAM & JERUSALEM-Organic homemade strawberry jam from Long Farnden WI.' Should make a real impact, trundling down the street."

"It'll do more than trundle, Mrs. Meade, with me at the wheel," said Mrs. T-J. "So I need to dress up as a strawberry?"

There was an awed silence, as they considered this.

"Great!" said Douglas. "I can't wait!"

The rest of the meeting was taken up with the minutiae of timing and priming, and as soon as they were finished, Douglas, Lois and Mrs. T-J set off to collect the oversized jam jar and take it up to the hall.

JACK SR. HAD COVERED ABOUT EIGHT MILES ON FOOT, HE RECKONED. He was crossing fields and woods, das.h.i.+ng illegally over railway lines and cursing as he made a detour in order to cross a precarious footbridge over a disused ca.n.a.l.

He looked at his map again. If he was lucky, he could be back in his hut by nightfall. He intended to waste no time, and during his long trek across country had made a plan. The most likely time to find his target would be early in the morning. He knew he was gambling on the likelihood of the villain doing Jack Jr. no harm until then, but on balance it was safer than busting in late at night with all guns blazing and causing a knee-jerk reaction.

The light was going by the time he reached the Farnden woods, and with his old hat pulled well down over his face he made his way towards his hut. He did not go straight to it, but made a wide detour around the parkland to check there were no police cars waiting for him. He had skirted the edge of the park and now plunged into the spinney of poplars planted within sight of the drive up to the hall. Nearly there, he said to himself. He planned to have a few hours sleep, then start off towards Tresham at dawn, before the day began.

Suddenly he stopped short, instinctively squatting down on his haunches. Something was hurtling down the sloping approach to the house. It was bright red, driven by a helmeted figure gripping the steering wheel, and, as he watched, it crashed with a shout from the driver into a holly bush planted near the turn into the stable yard.

He stood up and ran like a hare. He pushed his way through the thicket and at last stood, scratched and breathing heavily, at the door of his hut. Good G.o.d, what on earth was it? Some new toy of the police-heat-seeking night-vision vehicle? But why bright red? He sat down on the pile of sacks that did duty as a chair and put his head in his hands. "Oh, young Jack, what have I done? Dear G.o.d, don't let him be hurt before I get there. Please."

"NO HARM DONE," LAUGHED MRS. T-J, AS LOIS AND DOUGLAS came running to where she had landed.

Douglas helped her to her feet, and quickly examined Jam & Jerusalem. "Not a scratch," he said.

"Thank goodness for that," Lois said. "Josie would kill us if she had to do it all again."

"But did you see how fast she went?" said Mrs. T-J, taking off her helmet. "My goodness, it was most exhilarating! She must have been doing at least fifty miles an hour, Douglas!"

He grinned indulgently. "More like twenty," he said. "It probably felt like more. Tony Dibson said the secret is in the weight. There's no rules about how heavy it's got to be. So we can put a few lumps of rock in with you on the day."

"Lumps of rock!" Mrs. T-J colored with indignation. "There are a couple of blocks of Carrara marble in the potting shed. Been there since that dreadful woman came to sculpt my dear husband's head. Looked nothing like him. I put him in the cellar, and the blocks of marble-which we purchased at great cost-were left over. Awful mistake. But they'll be just the thing. Rocks, indeed! Nothing but the best for Jam & Jerusalem! If my gardener returns, I'll get him to carry them."

When the soap box had been safely stowed away in a stable and covered with an old horse blanket, Lois and Douglas set off to walk back to the village. "Notice she didn't offer us a lift back," said Douglas glumly. "Just as well I don't actually have to be back early. Why did you say that during the meeting, Mum?"

"To change the subject. Stop the gossip about Jack Jr. Mind you, nothing I can say will stop it. But I need to find out a couple of things before I can speak with authority. I am his mother's boss, and people are bound to think I know more than I'm telling."

"And do you?" said Douglas.

Lois did not answer, and they walked on in silence. As they reached the edge of the village, Lois said casually, "By the way, Douglas, you know when our mad woman driver was out of control in a jar of jam? Well, did you notice anything over by the hedge at the side of the park?"

"What do you mean, Mum?"

"I thought I saw a shadowy figure moving along the hedge. It stopped when she crashed, and I looked away. When I looked back again it had gone."

"Could've been a fox," Douglas said, getting into his car. "I thought I heard a vixen barking in the wood when we came away. Anyway, I must be going. Susie will wonder where I've gone. All going well, so I'll see you on the day. Bye, Mum." He pecked her cheek and was gone.

FORTY-ONE.

JACK JR. HAD HARDLY SLEPT. THE GROANS AND YELLS COMING from the rest of the house frightened him so much that he lay curled up in a ball under the smelly duvet with his fingers in his ears. A glimmer of light showed through the filthy windows. There had been curtains once, but they had been reduced to rags hanging in strips. It didn't matter. The dirt was so thick on the windows that n.o.body could see in or out.

"Wake up, kid!" The man's harsh voice pierced through Jack's defences, and he sat up, shrinking away from the looming figure. "Come on, we're going on a visit. Here, take this. You can eat it on the way."

"Where're we going? I want to go home. If you don't take me soon, they'll be on to you and you'll wish you had."

"Persistent little sod, aren't you?" The man took hold of Jack by his shoulder and pushed him out of the room, down the rotting stairs and out of a door at the back of the house. The early morning was cold and clear, and Jack saw the familiar scruffy van. Once more he was pushed into the back, and in seconds he was on the road, having no idea where he was going. He began to eat the stale sandwich and said to himself that at least he had more chance of escape from this old wreck on the move, than from that locked room. For all the man's bl.u.s.ter, Jack reckoned he was not very bright. "Me against him," he muttered, and swallowed hard. The sandwich was disgusting, but he had to keep up his strength.

LOIS STARED AT THE TELEPHONE IN HER OFFICE, TRYING TO decide whether or not to ring Cowgill. She knew from Mrs. T-J that Hickson had gone into hiding again, and whether or not he had taken his son with him, the police would need urgently to find him. She had already told Cowgill all she knew about Jack Sr., but she still did not know where he was living. Working, yes, and there had been that shadow lurking round the park. If Cowgill had already been up there to look around for him, he might have spotted him. But had he? It was a question of relying on police efficiency, or ringing Cowgill to make sure. She dialled his number.

Chris answered. "h.e.l.lo, Lois," she said. "Did you want Mr. Cowgill? Oh, dear, he's gone to the dentist. Said he'd be out all morning. No, they don't allow mobiles in the dentist's. Can I give him a message when he comes back, or can I help? Is it something to do with young Jack Hickson's disappearance?"

"Oh, don't worry, Chris. I'll catch him later. Any news on Jack Jr.?"

"Nothing definite. We've got just about every man in the force on to it, and nationwide as well. It won't be long before we find him. How's his mum holding up?"

"Not too well. I'm going round there now. Bye."

Paula opened the door at once. Lois could see she'd had no sleep and been crying a lot. There were big dark circles under her eyes and her skin was blotchy. She was holding baby Frankie, and Lois could see the twins in the kitchen, sitting at the table eating cereal and looking solemn.

"Shouldn't they be at school?" Lois said to Paula, as they walked through and the twins said h.e.l.lo.

Paula shook her head. "Not until they've found Jack," she said shakily. "I'm not letting them, any of them, out of my sight. Sorry I can't do the work at the moment, Mrs. M."

"Don't be ridiculous, Paula," Lois said. "Of course you can't. But I'm sure you'll soon have him back and we can all get on with life. Have you had any news, or thought of anything else to tell that might help?"

Paula shook her head. "No, nothing," she said.

Well, now there was something she could tell Paula. "Jack Sr. has gone missing, too," she said. "Mrs. T-J said last night that he didn't turn up for work yesterday morning. You've not seen or heard anything?"

Paula shook her head. "Mind you," she said, "I'm not surprised. With his picture all over the papers, he's not likely to hang around here. He'd be suspect number one, wouldn't he?"

"Do you think he's got Jack?"

Paula shrugged. "In a way," she said, "I hope he has. He'd not harm him. I'm really certain about that. Probably just doing it to scare me. And if he has got him, he's dug himself into an even deeper hole than he was in already. Abducting a child is a real crime, the stupid idiot."

The doorbell rang, and Paula started. "Go on," said Lois, "answer it. I'm here."

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Paula. I hope I'm not intruding. I just came to say . . . well, you know . . ."

Lois knew the voice. It was Kate Adstone, and Paula returned with her visitor following close behind. "Morning, Mrs. Meade," Kate said. "I just came . . ."

"Quite right, too," Lois said. "The more support Paula gets the better. Is there another coffee in the pot, Paula?"

Their conversation ranged over every subject except that of missing Jack Jr., and then they fell silent. Lois waited. Surely something useful would come up.

"I was thinking about them early days, when we both worked at Froot's Builders," Paula said finally to Kate. "They were carefree compared to this, weren't they. Always having a laugh with the girls."

"Too right," Kate said with feeling. "Me a personal a.s.sistant in the office, and weren't you-?"

"I worked in the canteen," Paula said. "It was a good job. I liked it there, except when the boss came round, feeling up all the girls. Old Greasy, we used to call him. Luckily he didn't appear often. No, it was a good job and some nice people worked there."

"Old Greasy!" Kate said, and laughed nervously. "My G.o.d, I remember him. He interviewed me for the job. You were lucky. I saw him most days, and I must say I couldn't get away from there fast enough. Gavin worked there, too. . . ." Her face closed up, and she looked at her watch.

"I must go," Lois said quickly. "I'll leave you girls to have a chat. Cecilia at playgroup? You've got plenty of time, Kate, and I know Paula is glad of the company."

After she left, she crossed the road and went into the shop.

"Hi, Mum," Josie said. "What's new?"

"Nothing much, unfortunately," Lois said. "D'you mind if I lurk for a minute or two? I just want to check on when Kate leaves Paula Hickson."

"For G.o.d's sake, why? Aren't you carrying the sleuth bit a trifle too far?"