Part 61 (1/2)
”But-”
”n.o.body!” He stepped back and was about to close the door when Frank reached out and held it open. At that the smile gave way to a scowl.
”If we can't see him, can we at least leave a message?”
”No messages!”
”He'll want to receive this one. He'll thank you for pa.s.sing it on.
He'll blame you if you don't.”
The man relaxed fractionally. The pressure on the door faded.
”Well? Will you deliver our message?”
The answer was reluctant but emphatic, accompanied by a contemptuous curl of the lip. ”S.”
Derek wondered what Frank would say next, given that they had made no provisions for such a contingency. To his surprise, the old man pulled a sealed envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket.
H A N D I N G L O V E.
375.
”For Senor Delgado,” he said, handing it over. ”For him and n.o.body else. You will make sure he receives it?”
”S.”
”Today?”
”S, senor. Today.”
Frank nodded. ”Gracias.” This time, he did not intervene as the door closed, merely turned and walked away towards the Land Rover.
”What was in the envelope, Frank?” whispered Derek.
”A letter. Brief and to the point. I wrote it last night. It invites Delgado to contact the sender at the Hotel de los Reyes Catolicos in order to discuss some papers he has, originally the property of Vicente Ortiz.”
”You knew we wouldn't be admitted, didn't you? That we'd have to leave a message?”
”I thought it likely.”
”Why didn't you tell me?”
”Because you'd have said it was too risky, too direct, too undiplomatic.”
”So it is.”
”Maybe. But we don't have time for your methods, whatever they are. So we'll have to try mine, won't we?”
”But what kind of response will there be?”
”I don't know.”
They reached the Land Rover and climbed in alongside each other. The windows of the pazo stared down at them unblinkingly. If they were being watched, there was no twitch of curtain or glimpse of face to confirm it. And the absence of this-the disdainful lack of any response-somehow worried Derek more than the bolted gate or its sullen keeper. ”Is there any chance,” he asked, ”that Delgado will recognize your name as an old comrade of Ortiz's?”
”None.”
”How can you be so sure?”
”Easily. You see, I didn't sign the letter in my name. I signed it in yours.”
CHAPTER.
SIXTEEN.
Sunday and Monday had fused into a test of Charlotte's endurance. Time was running out for Samantha, but all Charlotte could do was wait and hope and say nothing to anybody about what might be happening in Galicia. Her two telephone conversations with Derek had provided scant rea.s.surance. There had been a note of anxiety in his voice that she found it easy to believe might presage some form of panic. As for Frank, she was as uncertain about what he intended to do as Derek was. And, unlike Derek, she was in no position to restrain him.
As her mind filled with dread-laden speculation, so her fear of discovery mounted. She knew this to be groundless, since the precautions they had taken were more than adequate, but she could not help expecting Chief Inspector Golding to arrive at any moment demanding to know what she thought she was playing at. Perhaps the receptionist at Fithyan & Co. had recognized her voice. Perhaps one of Derek's neighbours had seen her coming and going at Farriers. Perhaps, worst of all, their attempt to negotiate with Delgado would prove to be a disastrous mistake.
Shortly before midday on Tuesday, there came a ring at the door which brought all these doubts crowding to the surface. By the time she answered it, she had almost convinced herself it would be Golding, grim-faced and accusing. But it was not. And the relief that it was not delayed by several seconds the onset of astonishment at her visitor's ident.i.ty.
”Mrs McKitrick!”
”Hi, Charlie. This is a surprise, right?” Holly McKitrick seemed altered by the switch in locale from expansive Ma.s.sachusetts to introspective Kent. She was wearing a sheepskin coat with the collar turned up and her smile was faint and cautious where before it had been broad and instinctive. For a moment, Charlotte could have believed she was not the same person. A sister, perhaps, or a total stranger bearing a capricious resemblance. Then she realized her own incredulity lay at the root of the sensation. What was this woman H A N D I N G L O V E.
377.
doing here? What could she possibly want? ”Can I come in? I don't have long and . . . There's something I have to tell you.”
”All right. Come in.”
Charlotte led the way into the lounge, took her visitor's coat and offered her a chair. She was wearing a smart black suit and pink blouse, but for all the immaculacy of her appearance there were dark shadows beneath her eyes and a tremor to her hands and voice. An offer of coffee was declined. She sat forward in her chair, slightly hunched, revolving her wedding ring on its finger with the thumb and index finger of her other hand.
”What . . . er . . . is this about, Mrs McKitrick?” Charlotte asked after a momentary silence.
”Your niece.”
”Sam?”
”Yuh. You said . . . her kidnappers had set a deadline.”
”Yes. The eleventh.”
”And today's the sixth.” She stared at her feet for several seconds, then said: ”Emerson doesn't know I'm here. I'm spending a week with my sister in Germany. Her husband's stationed with the Air Force there. I flew across this morning. In secret, I suppose you'd say.”