Murderous traits, p.38
Murderous Traits, page 38
He turned to Sara. “What do you think, Sara? You’ve met him.”
Sara sighed. “I don’t know. He’s certainly single-minded and relentless in pursuing what he wants. But I think he would stop short of murder.” She paused, her eyes flicking hesitantly to John and then looking away. “However, there has been some loss of life.”
“You mean the woman in Cape Cod?” said John. “Surely that was self-defence on Paola’s part.”
“Yes,” said Sara, although her face betrayed her lack of conviction. “It probably was.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “There have also been a couple of incidents here,” she added quietly.
“What sort of incidents?” said John.
“Let’s just say that there are fewer guards now than when Paola arrived, and a couple of other staff who never want to see her again. My mother is an interesting person.”
“OK,” said Jacques. “Let’s look at the map and decide on what we’re going to do. Then we’ll know what resources we’ll need.”
He pointed to the circled village. “This is where we are, Sara. You say the artist brought you here. How long did that take?”
“It was about twenty minutes,” said Sara as she studied the terrain around the village. “Let me see, we came in from this direction. There was a river, well, a stream really, where I met Dot. Oh, heavens, there are rather a lot.”
She went silent as she pored over the map, running her finger in several directions. Finally she said, “I think it could be around here. This looks like a very extensive area of woodland, the largest on the map. I know from what Paola said that the estate is huge. Is this a house, to the northern end of the woodland?”
The others looked closer. John sighed in frustration. “These maps are good, but they are based on old military surveys. We could do with something more up-to-date.”
Ced straightened up. “No problem,” he said, pulling out his phone. Then he changed his mind and turned to the door. “I’ve got my iPad in the car. Its screen is much bigger than a phone. Let’s have a look at Mr Google’s satellite version.”
A moment later, he was back, his attention entirely focussed on the tablet’s screen.
“Here we go,” he muttered, glancing over at the map on the table. “Let’s see, here’s the village … if we scale back, then … over here a bit … yes, there’s that area of woodland. And yes, that is a house, a pretty big one I should say. Here, Sara, what do you think?”
He moved next to Sara as the others clustered round. “Does that look familiar?” he said.
Sara studied the satellite photo and zoomed it in with her fingers. “That’s it!” she cried, looking up, her eyes excited. “No question. The gardens immediately outside the house are quite formal: low box hedges and things. I’ve only seen part of it, but this side,” – she pointed to the south side of the house – “is where we walked into the woods.”
She zoomed the image back and moved it around. “I wonder if we can see the fence. Gosh, the woods really are dense. Paola said they were. But there’s a track around the fence that should show up. Look! It’s here, I think. Yes.”
They traced what was visible of the fence and then followed Sara’s best guess of her route through the woods beyond the fence to where she met Dorothy.
“You did well, Sara,” said Jacques. “It would have been all too easy to go round in circles.”
Sara grinned. “I had some good training in Colorado back in the seventies.”
“The seventies?” said Verdi in astonishment as he computed the numbers. He had assessed her age as early thirties at the most, and given Matt’s age, assumed she must have been a very young mother.
“I told you it was complicated, Corrado,” said John, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
Verdi shook his head. “Maria Madre di Dio e tutti i Santi,” he muttered.
Jacques stood back and put his hand on John’s shoulder. “I think we have two choices, mon ami,” he said. “We either go back through the woods and try to penetrate the fence, although I suspect that would now be very difficult, especially since Sara and Paola managed to breach it once, apparently through incompetence on the part of the guards.” He paused, pursing his lips as he considered the options.
“Or?” said John.
“Or we drive up to the main gate, which appears to be a couple of kilometres to the north of the house, according to this satellite photo,” he said.
“The woods would seem to be the better option,” said Ced. “We might be able to find some weakness in the system.”
“Paola told me that there are cameras along the fence, and a load of hi-tech security stuff,” said Sara.
John shook his head. “I don’t think we have the time to scout through the woods and hope for something to turn up with the fence. We would run the risk of being stuck there while Dayton goes out of the main gate with Paola and Claudia. By the time we got in, we could find just an empty house.”
Ced wasn’t convinced. “We can’t just drive up to the main gate and tell them we have an appointment to see Dayton,” he said.
Jacques smiled. “Ah, but I think we can, Ced. You see, we have a secret weapon, at least as far as the guards are concerned.”
“What sort of secret weapon?”
Jacques held his arms out wide. “Me,” he said.
C hapter 45
“I don’t understand. How can you be a secret weapon?”
“Ced,” laughed Jacques, “for someone so intelligent, you are being a little slow to catch on.”
Ced’s face was a picture of incomprehension as he glanced around at the others. John’s face was as inscrutable as ever, Sara and Pete had a knowing look and even Matt seemed to get it. Only Corrado Verdi looked as if he no longer understood English at all.
“Think about it, Ced,” continued Jacques. “Think back to Santa Croce. What happened there?”
Slowly the light dawned. Ced nodded. “Yes, of course. I thought Dayton was you.” He banged the heel of his right hand onto his forehead. “He’s your twin brother, your identical twin brother. You’re right, but I’m not just being slow, I’m being totally thick.” Then he realised the implications of what Jacques was saying. “Jacques! You’re not considering posing as Dayton, are you, showing up at the gate and expecting the guards to let you in? Surely there’ll be some sort of record saying whether he’s there or not?”
Jacques shrugged. “Who knows? It depends on whether he’s come and gone today. And whether the same guards are on duty. We already know that they are not as good as expected. Look what happened at the gate in the fence when Sara escaped. It will all be in the perception. If they think the person they see is Marcus Dayton, then whatever their contrary information is, they’ll think there has been a mistake. They’ll perhaps think that Dayton has left by another gate and that his departure has not got onto whatever system they have.”
Ced still wasn’t convinced. “Isn’t it going to be a little strange for you to be on foot?”
“I agree, that would be strange. But why should I be on foot? Perhaps Sara can help us here.”
He turned to Sara who was sitting between Pete and Matt, holding hands with both of them. “Did you see any vehicles parked, Sara? Corrado’s sharp eyes have told us that yesterday Dayton was using an expensive BMW, a black one. Could you perhaps have seen others?”
Sara thought about it. “I saw some cars parked at the side of the house when I looked back from the woods. It was some distance. There were three, I think. They looked like fancy 4 by 4s, but I’ve no idea what sort.”
“What about the vehicle that showed up at the gate in the woods?” said John. “Lola told me you’d mentioned one.”
“It was a pick-up, navy blue with a red stripe. A Mitsubishi. I remember the badge now. We had a Mitsubishi a couple of cars ago.”
“Then we need a Mitsubishi pick-up,” said John. “That would be perfect. The guards would just think that Dayton had been looking around the fence, perhaps left the estate through one of the gates in the fence rather than the main gate.”
“What about clothing?” asked Matt. “Don’t you think it would be better to be wearing something similar to what Dayton wears? And what about John and Ced? Are they going to be hiding, or should they be dressed as guards and one of them driving the flatbed?”
“That’s good, Matt,” said Jacques. “You’re really getting the hang of this. Any tips, Sara?”
Sara inhaled deeply as she thought about it. “I’ve only seen Dayton a couple of times and that was indoors. He was wearing grey, medium-weight slacks, rather like those you’re wearing, Jacques. Those would certainly do. Let me see, what else? Yes, he was wearing a ribbed beige sweater, quite heavy duty, military style. But there’s one thing you must remember.”
Jacques raised his eyebrows in question.
“Dayton has a large scar down his right cheek from a recent wound. I think it was Paola’s handiwork.”
“Ah,” said Jacques, “that would explain the blood at Paola’s house in Cape Cod. She cut him.”
“Yes,” said Sara. “So you’ll need to remember to keep a hand over that part of your face when you see the guards.”
“Talking of the guards, what were they wearing?” asked John.
“Navy combat trousers, boots and dark blue padded jackets,” said Sara, picturing the guards at the fence. “Oh, and plain, dark blue baseball caps.”
“No writing or logos?”
“No, nothing. Harder to see them, especially in poor light.”
Jacques turned to Verdi. “Corrado, would you mind asking the bar owner where the nearest place is to buy this sort of stuff? And to rent a pick-up?”
Pleased to be of use, Verdi walked over to the bar and talked to the barman. After a brief but animated discussion, he returned to the table.
“San Sepolcro,” he said as he sat down. “There’s a small industrial estate on this side of the town as you approach from Anghiari. He said there’s a superstore there that has that kind of clothing, and there’s a heavy-duty vehicle rental place next door.”
“How far?” said Jacques.
“About half an hour.”
“Perfect. John, Ced, let’s go.” Jacques turned to the others. “It might be wiser if you went back to Florence, got out of this area,” he said.
Pete shook his head. “No way, José. We’re staying put. You might just need back up.”
An hour and twenty minutes later, a dark blue pick-up driven by Ced braked to a stop outside the bar. John’s rental car with Jacques in the passenger seat was just behind him.
“Wow!” said Sara as the three of them walked into the bar, all wearing the new clothes they’d just bought. “That was fast. And boy! Do you three cut the mustard. Two regular guards and a dead ringer for Marcus Dayton. This could work.”
Jacques smiled. “Let’s hope so. We’ve been discussing what we’ll do once we’re in and it occurred to me that I might have to continue my impersonation in front of one or two people. How similar is my voice to Dayton’s?”
“The overall tone is very similar,” said Sara. “But whereas from time to time when you’re not being very proper English you have a hint of a French accent, Dayton’s accent is slightly Germanic. Just a hint. Not like some German in a ‘Hollyvood vore film’,” she mimicked. “Far more subtle.”
Jacques laughed, amused by her assessment of his normal accent. “You mean perhaps a little like this,” he said, trying the flat accent of a non-native English speaker from central Europe.
Sara nodded. “Perfect.”
“Good,” said Jacques. “Then let’s not waste any more time. We need to go.”
Sara looked at them uneasily. “Are you sure this is the best approach? Doesn’t this country have some sort of law enforcement we could tap into? I’ve seen Dayton’s guards. They’re big and rather mean looking. You could be walking into a huge amount of danger.”
John nodded. “You’re right, Sara, we could. But we have to act now. I can’t imagine even trying to explain what’s happened to one of the local police forces; it would be way outside of their comfort zone. And anyway, Dayton has probably ingratiated himself with anyone important around here. They wouldn’t take kindly to one of their sacred cows being criticised. No, if we went down that route, Dayton would just evaporate with Paola and Claudia while we were wrapped up in bureaucratic wrangling.”
Sara sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right.” She stood and hugged the three of them in turn. “Do be careful,” she said, swallowing hard.
“We shall,” said John. “And rest assured, when we return, it will be with Paola and Claudia. That’s a given.”
Sara bit her lip and held up both hands with fingers crossed.
“Make sure you do,” said Pete, slapping John on the back. “Heck, I really think I should be going with you.”
“We’ve been through that, Pete,” said John. “It’ll all be fine, don’t worry.”
It took thirty minutes to drive the narrow winding roads that led up to the main entrance of Dayton’s estate. Ced was at the wheel with John sitting in the middle of the cab and Jacques on the right by the passenger door. Both Ced and John were wearing dark glasses and the baseball caps they’d bought, while Jacques was wearing neither. He wanted the guards to see his face and for them to be convinced that whatever their information said to the contrary, the man before them was their boss.
They knew from the satellite photo that the house was about two kilometres inside the estate. Their plan was that once they’d crossed the first hurdle of the guards, Ced and John would get out of the pick-up about five hundred metres from the house and Jacques would drive on alone. Anyone he encountered would just think Dayton was going about his normal business.
“I’m feeling confident about the first part,” said Jacques when they were about a kilometre from the gates to the estate, “but short of beating a hasty retreat, what will we do if the guards don’t fall for me being Dayton? Or, for that matter, if they are suspicious of you two?”
Ced cast him a casually confident smile. “We’ll bluff our way as far as the guardhouse where we’ll sort them out, assuming there aren’t too many. John and I have a history with guards, Jacques. We make a good team, don’t we John?”
“No problem,” said John, punching his right fist into his left palm.
In the event, it went remarkably smoothly. As they approached the gate in the high wall of the estate, Ced hit the horn to announce their arrival and swung the pick-up in towards the entrance.
A single guard carrying an iPad emerged from the gatehouse. As he peered in through the driver’s window, Jacques leaned across John to talk to him, his right hand casually covering his right cheek. Startled, the guard’s attention was now fully on him.
“Signor Dayton,” he said, speaking Italian. “I was not expecting you. They didn’t tell me at the house.”
Without missing a beat, Jacques answered in fluent Italian, reading the guard’s name badge as he did.
“No problem, Mario. I decided to make an inspection of the perimeter. After yesterday, we can’t be too careful. I left through the south gate.”
The guard nodded furiously. “Yes, signore. Of course, signore.” But instead of moving, he remained rooted to the spot.
“Mario,” said Jacques.
“Yessir!”
“The gate?”
“Oh, pardon, signore,” he said, flustered. He ran to the gatehouse and pressed a button. The gate swung open and Ced hit the throttle. In the mirror, he could see the guard taking out a walkie-talkie as the gate shut behind them.
“He’s on the radio,” he said. “Presumably to the house.”
“Then I’ll drop you two fairly soon and drive up to the house alone,” said Jacques.
“Just as well you speak the lingo,” said Ced.
Jacques smiled. “Fortunately, I have a few up my sleeve,” he said.
The gravelled drive curved through a number of bends as it climbed steeply towards the house. After the fourth tight bend, Ced looked up from the satellite image on his phone and announced that he and John should get out.
“This is the last of the serious bends before the house. After this, the road straightens as it gets onto the ridge. There’s still good tree cover here; John and I can work our way quickly to the rear of the house. If Claw and Paola aren’t locked up – and Sara told me that Dayton has been allowing Paola access to the downstairs sitting rooms – there’s a chance we might see them.”
He stopped the pick-up and got out, followed by John. Jacques moved across to the driver’s seat.
“Phones on vibrate only?” he said.
“Yes,” they both replied.
“OK, I’ll leave the key in the footwell under the mat. If you need to leave in a hurry, especially with the women, do it. Don’t wait for me. I’ll find my own way out.”
With that, he drove off towards the house while Ced and John hurried into the cover of the trees.
Seeing no point in announcing his arrival too loudly on the noisy gravel, Jacques stopped the pick-up about fifty metres from the house. He climbed out quietly, leaving the keys as arranged. He looked around. Three vehicles were parked close to the house: the large black BMW saloon and two high-end Toyota Land Cruisers, also black. Apart from the cars, there was no sign of anyone. He looked up at the house. It was a large, three-storey rambling affair, built mainly of local stone with terracotta tiles on the various roofs. It had a quiet authority that made Jacques think that it was no ordinary grand Italian country house, that the external impression was a façade hiding more than beamed living spaces and bedrooms. He estimated that there could be upwards of fifty rooms. More of a palazzo than a house, he thought.
Cursing the gravel, he trod as lightly as he could towards the huge dark walnut double main door that was accessed by a flight of wide, semicircular stone steps. The door was unlocked, opening silently when he turned the handle and pushed. Inside was a large rectangular entrance hall with an ornate wooden staircase on the right climbing through one half-landing to the first-floor rooms. The stairs leading up to the top floor were not immediately obvious.
