Header: Mia, bound, gagged and in Murgatroyd’s hands. Detail from film The Man Who Couldn’t Walk, Movie Star News b/w print.

Footer: Mia’s wrists bound with a plastic restraint and nylon cord. From the soap Hollyoakes, Steve’s DiDcaps.

Melody Hazard and Broderick Clifford, accompanied by Sergeant Monty Behre and a squad of the grey-garbed KAS shock troops, searched the cells one by one. But there were no signs of Mia Chantal or Jasmine Morris, nor indeed was there any indication of the gang leaders’ whereabouts. Prisoners and captors alike had vanished. Melody hoped that they were not together. She shuddered to think what Karl might do to Mia if he found her again. And Miles deVille had not yet appeared. Melody hoped that he and Mia were together.

As soon as they returned to the audience room at the front of the chateau, Sergeant Behr established communication with the tree guards on the outer perimeter. The surveillance teams had been trying unsuccessfully to make contact with Brod’s group. Communications had been disrupted by the thick concrete slabs shielding the chateau’s underground maze.

‘Inspector Clifford, Sir! Sergeant Jenn reports that the surveillance posts saw persons leavin’ the grounds. They appears to come from the front garden. One o’ them, from the description as a tall thin feller, is probably the h’offender Karl. The other is unidentified. He is described as a big man. This second h’offender appears to be wearin’ a tuxedo.’

Melody looked at Brod, ‘Who ... ?’

‘Hard to say. They were expecting Sir Herbert Murgatroyd to make an appearance. But the goons we apprehended said that he never came to the house while they were on duty. And he couldn’t have entered during the fighting.’

‘All the same,’ said Melody, ‘whoever it is, this suggests that another, unknown gang member is at large, as well as the ones we know.’

The walkie-talkie crackled again. Sergeant Behre reported, ‘The h’offenders are movin’ along the cliff-top in a northerly direction, Sir! They appears t’ be headin’ towards a large stand o’ trees that lie between the cliff’s edge an’ the main road. It is reported that the place is ‘oneycombed with tracks, Sir! An’ that there may be a vehicule concealed h’in the trees ... A secon’ report jus’ come in Sir! A man h’appears t’ be followin’ the two h’offenders. His h’eletronic signature identifies ‘im as Doctor Miles deVille, Sir! There is no sign of anyone with him,’ Sergeant Behre added in response to Melody’s concerned look.

‘Right,’ exclaimed Brod, ‘We’d better start in pursuit of our quarry on the cliffs. You game?’

‘Just try to keep me away!’ cried Melody. ‘I’m not standing back while you big men mop up the gang by yourselves. And I’m not resting till I’ve found Mia and know she’s safe and well.’

The group quickly broke up. Sergeant Behre led his squad around the house in order to pick up the cliffs from that side. Brod and Melody crossed the front area between the gazebo and the mansion and entered a path through one of the small wooden fences that was set in the high stone walls surrounding the grounds. Rain was beginning to fall in slow drenching sheets, but the wind that had sprung up earlier had abated temporarily. The big storm they were expecting had not yet struck. Its ferocity would be more than matched by the desperate struggle that was soon to ensue on the ground.

*

Molly Fusil crouched at the bole of a large tree near the gazebo. It was impossible to see the entrance to the underground passage in the dark, as it would be also in broad daylight, but she knew where it was. She had just emerged from there. With narrowed eyes she searched for any sign of movement. Several minutes passed, then a shadow detached itself from the rotunda to blend again almost instantly into the shadows cast by the trees against the moonlight. A soft whistle came from the dark.

Johnny’s signature tune, thought Molly. ‘Johnny! Over here,’ she hissed.

In a few seconds, Johnny Montague was at her side. ‘You waited?’

‘I’ve nowhere else to go, Johnny. And now that Murgatroyd’s become my enemy I badly need friends.’

‘You have a friend in me, Molly, but on my terms. Got it? The whole situation’s changed. But it was caused by your obsession to abduct those women. And Karl’s. Your bunch have lost sight of the key element in this game, the bloody Duck’s Egg Diamond.’

‘Point taken, Johnny. I could have done better.’

‘We all could. But our first gambit right now is to get the hell outa here.’

‘Where’s Hudson? After you freed me, you said you were looking for him.’

‘That’s what I was about to say. The big guy’s fetching the Merc. Don’t ask me how. He’ll get through those commando types maybe. He knows his way around more than we give him credit for.’

‘I hope he comes soon. Johnny, hold me a little. I’m scared.’

Warily, Johnny Montague put his arms around Molly. The warmth of her breasts, communicated through his jacket, stirred feelings that had lain dormant in him for a long while.

‘Another time and place, Honey,’ he whispered, ‘we might have ... Nah, doesn’t matter. Just hold on kid. But remember, I didn’t come down in the last shower.’

It began to rain.

*

The tilt-a-door of the shed rose smoothly, drawn by well-oiled machinery. A big man lumbered forwards.

‘Halt! Hold it there. Come out slowly, we got the drop on yer!’

The sergeant brought his assault rifle to the ready, but the figure re-emerged, running from the garage with astonishing speed. The weapon was sent whirling into the trees as the two men collided with a crunch of muscle and bone. The sergeant was shorter but he was just as stocky and as heavily built as his opponent. There followed a series of throws, falls and counter-falls that appeared almost choreographed. In a sense they were. The two men parted, took breath, and closed again in combat. Each brushed off blows from the other that would have left a lighter man badly injured or dead. The match lasted another minute before they drew apart and stood, chests heaving, neither ready to call it quits.

Sergeant Monty Behre growled. ‘God, I ain’t had a bout like this for a long time. Brings back memories ... Sayyy, there’s only one man I know does a hammer lock like that, gracefully like it was no trouble.’ For a moment he thumbed on a flashlight that hung at his belt. ‘If I live an breathe! If it ain’t old Bill Hudson! What’re you doin in this neck a the woods, Bill?’

‘Who’re you?’

‘Why, I’m your old sparrin’ partner. ‘Member? They used to call me Yogi, ‘cos a my name. Sayyy, we really knocked em dead in that tag-team freestyle tourney.’

‘Yer. I ‘member. We went dif’rent ways then, eh Monty?’

‘Yeah. I heard you were pretty badly smashed up in that crooked fight. Ever-one was sayin they rigged it on yer.’

‘Yeah, s’right.’

‘Y’know what? Me an some a the boys got together an those blokes what did it, they never did it again. Y’know what I mean?’

‘Yeah Monty. Thanks. But, y’know, it’s all in the past. I’se tryin t’go straight now.’

‘Funny way a doin it, if y’don’t mind me sayin.’

‘Yeah. Well, frien’s. Y’know?’

‘Think I do, mate. So where’re yer goin wi’ the vehicule?’

‘You goin’ ter le’me go?’

‘Old time’s sake Bill. Not on’y that but. The bosses, they reckon if we c’n identify some a the gang, like yerself, we’re t’ turn a blind eye. On the nose, yer know? So who’re yer makin’ the getaway with?’

‘Nother frien’, feller name Johnny.’

‘He a pretty straight bloke?’

‘Yeah. Else I wouldn’ be in it.’

‘Okayyy. Pass an be recognise’, or whatever they say.’

The Mercedes with Bill Hudson at the wheel purred quietly as it negotiated the ring road of the chateau. Two very relieved people, a man with a stunningly beautiful dark haired woman on his arm, settled thankfully into the back seat. It was fitting for Molly Fusil to be chaffeured from the Casa Medroso. On the other side of the building Sergeant Behre muttered instructions into his walkie-talkie. KAS commandos in the trees on either side of the gravelled entrance watched impassively as the Merc passed almost beneath them.

*

While Melody and Brod were returning to the villa’s front room with their team of KAS commandos, Mia Chantal was picking her way cautiously through the secret passage, revolver at the ready. Miles had not reappeared so, in accordance with a previous arrangement, they would meet outside the chateau near the entrance to the tunnel. It had been a long time since she had passed that way. In fact, the last time scarcely bore remembering. Then, she had been carried over Snedley’s shoulder in enforced silence, bound and gagged, and thrown into the trunk of a car. The hair prickled on the nape of her neck at the memory as she threaded her way along the ramp.

When she reached the exit to the gazebo and the trees, a gust of wind buffeted her, heralding the onset of the gale that the day’s weather had forewarned. Mia shook out the Italian silk scarf that had belonged to Molly Fusil and pulled it over her head and under her chin. She anchored it by passing the ends lightly around her throat to the back of her head and knotting them together over the tongue of silk that covered her hair. Protected from having her hair whipped across her face by the approaching storm, and with her neck and cheeks warm under the caress of the silk, Mia set out to find the path to the cliff top. It was well-known to her.

*

Melody and Brod moved at a run along the path. At some points they had to slow down where it came perilously near the cliff’s edge. The open ground to their right did not last for long before they had the belt of trees at their shoulders. Torchlight blinked behind them intermittently, signalling the equally rapid approach of Sergeant Monty Behre and a group of his crack KAS troops. Brod and Melody came to a place where the path widened and the trees thinned. A figure stepped into the clearing from behind one of the trees. ‘Melody?’

Melody came to a halt. ‘Mia, is that you?’

‘It sure us,’ grunted Brod as the slight figure of the woman came up to them.

Her face glowing with relief, Mia threw herself into Melody’s arms and hugged her as if she would never let go. The silk scarf around her head scintillated with drops of rain. Mia had never looked lovelier.

‘It’s so good to find you again ...’

‘Well, you too.’ Countered Melody. ‘We were worried sick about you.’

‘I managed to escape, but it was touch and go.’

‘Did you see anyone pass here?’ asked Brod.

‘N- No. I’ve only just arrived. Why? The- The gang aren’t around now, are they?’

‘We think Miles could be ahead, chasing Karl and another man. The KAS spotters reported it,’ said Melody breathlessly.

‘Miles?’ Then she shrugged. ‘He’ll catch the bastard. Miles and I both know this area intimately. There are short cuts.’

‘Not along the cliff surely?’ asked Brod.

‘No. To the road I mean.’

‘Our word is that they’re in pursuit along the cliff top. Come on!’

Brod surged forward with the two women close behind.

‘Careful!’ Mia warned. ‘The path comes to the edge here.’

They slowed their pace and, sure enough, came upon the lip of the precipice. Below, the surf roiled against the foot of the cliff.

‘If someone was to fall ...’ Melody began.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks. There are no rocks. The surf’s just smashing against the base of the cliff. It’s quite deep there. Miles and I used to swim through the rock caverns. There are stone steps and a short slipway somewhere too. Hard to tell in this storm.’

‘Look!’ shouted Brod above the rising gale.

The edge of the cliff where they stood formed a narrow promontory from which they could look down upon the cliff’s face in both directions. From that vantage point and with the sudden illumination of the moon, momentarily freed from the storm clouds, Brod, Melody and Mia saw the figures of two men locked in hand to hand combat. Without a doubt they were Miles deVille and Karl. They appeared to be on a ledge some feet below the cliff top. Mia quickly explained that the cliff at this point was criss-crossed by switchback paths that led to the water. The combatants were too far away for Brod or the women to interfere.

Melody looked quickly behind her at the sound of running feet. Sergeant Behre and three KAS fighters came to a halt at Brod’s side, summed up the situation, and continued on the path towards the fighting men without a word. Brod followed. Melody and Mia stood where they were, mesmerised by the violent scene before them.

Mia caught her breath when moonlight reflected dully against the blade of a large knife that Karl had raised against her lover. Miles blocked the overhead stab by thrusting his forearm against that of his enemy. But the cliff ledge was too narrow and the footing so unsure on the slippery surface that he could not follow-up the advantage. The force of his block, however, was enough to put Karl off balance, and in attempting to retain his precarious place on the ledge the evil minion had to discard his weapon. The blade caught moon-flashes as it went spinning into the waves far below.

At such close quarters the two men became locked in a deadly embrace, each attempting to force the other off the cliff’s edge. Mia clutched convulsively at Melody’s arm as Miles and Karl teetered on the brink of the precipice. With scarcely a sound the two men dropped into space. A faint gurgling scream from Karl reached their ears as Miles and his nemesis plunged out of sight into the water.

Mia staggered back, her hands to her mouth, eyes wide in horror. Then a movement from Melody caught her attention. Melody Hazard stepped to the cliff’s edge, kicked off her shoes, and took up a diving stance.

‘Noo,’ cried Mia. But her voice was scattered to the four corners by the gale.

Melody cast a quick look back over her shoulder. ‘Lots of Aussie girls swim. And dive.’ With those words Melody launched herself into the abyss, executing a perfect swallow dive down, down, plummeting to the waves.

Mia took a faltering step towards the cliff’s edge, then another. There was no sign of Miles, Karl, or Melody in the roiling surf. She felt dizzy and disoriented. Her two best friends, both gone so suddenly and so completely. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to throw herself after them, but common sense told her that it would be a useless gesture. And even as that thought flashed through her mind, to be discarded as instantly as it had come, another development took place that was so unaccountable that Mia at first refused to recognise it.

A huge hand clamped over her nose and mouth and an equally bear-like embrace encircled her body, pinning her arms to her sides. She was lifted off her feet and carried into the slanting trees. The capture was quick and ruthless and made in complete silence. Mia could not breathe through that suffocating hand and all desire to struggle or cry out left her. If only her abductor would allow her to catch her breath. Her head was ringing with the lack of oxygen and the crushing pressure on her face and she was only distantly aware of what was happening to her.

Mia was set on her feet, turned and forced against something cold and metallic. Dimly she recognised it as a car of some sort. Her arms were dragged roughly behind her back and her wrists stung as a thin strip of plastic bit into them. She felt the vibration as the plastic slid into the slot. At least she could now breathe, for her captor needed both hands to tie her, and she gulped in air like a stranded fish. She could make no sound that would carry through the whistling of the rising gale.

Her ankles were being tied. She felt the rope threaded between them and tightened. It seemed to be thicker than the cord that now welded her wrists together. Mia continued to lean wearily forward against the side of the car. She was less likely to fall that way. Fingers gripped her jaws and forced her head up and back. She felt a piece of cloth against her lips. Like an automaton, Mia opened her mouth. The material was drawn roughly between her teeth. In a response driven by self-preservation, she employed her trick of pushing the cloth against the back of her teeth.

She thought wildly for a moment, If only I had my belt. But that had disappeared when she and Melody were dressed in Molly’s finery, the sleek high fashion business suits and exquisite silk blouses. Mia was still wearing the skirt that matched the jacket, and the lace blouse, although the latter was a little the worse for wear after her adventures in the dungeon. That’s it, you silly girl, thinking about clothes when you’re in the middle of a kidnap with yourself as the prize. Then her tongue came against the strip of cloth and for a moment she did not realise that her mouth had no packing. Instead, what felt like a thickly folded handkerchief was bound tightly between her jaws. The securing knot, when it was tied, was cushioned at the back of her neck by the silk scarf that she still wore around her head.

There was a pause in the proceedings. Mia heard a clunk and looked up to see in the intermittently moonlit dark that her captor had just opened the trunk of the car. Not again! Mia thought dazedly that she was becoming something of an expert on the interiors of car trunks. Boots, Australians called them. She would have laughed aloud, but the gag did its job surprisingly well, simple though it was. She could not move her mouth properly, and any sound that she succeeded in making was lost in the wind, as it would be in a small room, or in the confines of the car trunk, or any other sort of trunk for that matter.

The man who was abducting her leaned into the space and re-emerged with a small bundle in his hands. As he approached, Mia saw that he had a very round body. He was large, but she suspected it was more a case of overweight than his natural frame. Mia watched apprehensively over her shoulder as he shook out the bundle. It was a large coat. Almost solicitously, the big man placed it over Mia’s shoulders and drew the overcoat around her, turning her so that she now stood with her back to the car. Thick pudgy fingers buttoned the coat from her throat to her knees. They brushed against her breasts, not always by accident.

Mia’s captor dived into the trunk again and re-emerged with an armful of rope. As the coils were passed about Mia’s body, trussing her tightly from the shoulders to her knees, she discovered that for the first time in hours she was becoming warm. With great deliberation she was packed into the trunk, folded on her side, and blankets and bags layered around her. She felt the man rummaging about in a corner somewhere near her feet. Then her wrists stung anew as more cord was twisted around them twice, thrice, five times, and knotted tightly at the base of her thumbs. It was so tight that her fingers immediately began to tingle. The additional bonds felt slippery, like some sort of nylon cord. Mia stored that knowledge in the back of her mind for future reference.

The young woman thought that things could be worse, almost laughing through her gag at the paradox. She was helpless, bound and gagged tightly. But she very much doubted whether Snedley/Karl would have taken the trouble to wrap her in something. That meant she was valuable to this man. And that meant that she might be able to use herself as a bargaining chip.

As the car moved off, bumping along the slippery uneven track, Mia noted that the place in which she was packed smelled familiar. Could it be the trunk in which she and Melody were kidnapped before? If so, what did that mean?

Mia shifted position as well as she could. Her body and limbs ached. The gag was impossible to eject, and it hurt her mouth though it was an elementary kind, almost a movie gag. The floor on which she lay was uneven and something dug painfully into her right shoulder. She moved a little, raising her side, and felt a small degree of comfort. Then the shocks of the last few minutes began to bite. Tears came. Mia sobbed quietly as the vehicle found the sealed road and sped off, taking her to an unknown destination and an unforeseeable fate.

*

Melody broke the surface several yards from the foot of the cliff. Aware of the danger of being sucked in by the waves and dashed against it, she duck-dived and swam blindly down till the pressure on her eardrums forced her to arrow back to the surface. Her dive had been a matter of impulse. The reality was that it was too dark beneath the waves for her to see any signs of the two men who had fallen only moments ago. At the surface, she looked about her. There was a calmer area of water over against one side of the cliff’s base - a small natural bay in the rock - and she swam towards it strongly. A distant flicker of lightning way out at sea caught the dull metal of a railing. She was near the slipway that Mia had said was there. In a few more strokes, Melody reached the ancient ironwork ladder and pulled herself up, water cascading from her body. The slim business skirt and form-hugging top had made swimming easier than more full-bodied clothes would have done, but the cold was now intense. Until then, Melody had ignored that discomfort, but now with the strong wind battering her a chill set in.

So it was that when Monty Behre, followed closely by Brod, came to the slipway from the cliff steps they were greeted by a diverting sight. Melody Hazard, stripped fully naked, was jumping up and down on the ledge, dashing the water from her arms and torso with her hands and beating her shoulders, thighs and chest with the inside of her closed fists in a self-applied technique from reflexology. With an amused gleam in his eyes, Sergeant Behre draped a silver space blanket across Melody’s shoulders. She hugged it around her body as she would a conventional blanket and thanked him with chattering teeth.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ said Brod sternly. ‘You could have been killed.’

‘It’d take more than a small dive like that,’ Melody answered, brushing a lock of wet hair out of her eyes. ‘But it didn’t do any good in the end. I couldn’t see a thing down there. Miles and that psychopath Karl are either dead or they’ve been swept along the coast.’ Suddenly Melody caught her breath. ‘Where’s Mia?’

‘I thought she was right behind us.’

The group looked upwards expectantly, but all they saw was the dancing torchlight from the KAS investigative team as they searched the cliff.

‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ said Melody.

*

The car’s progress on the highway was now smooth. Mia lifted her head and tried to change position again. But being bound and gagged and folded onto her side in the narrow space allowed very little movement. Her tears had passed. Mia kicked herself for her weakness.

Come on girl, snap out of it. Get your act together. You’ve been in worse situations than this. And don’t start grieving for Melody. You don’t know that she’s dead. All you saw before that man grabbed you was Melody disappearing into the foam. She said Aussie girls know how to swim. And that was a pretty neat dive. What you have to do, my girl, is figure out how to get out of this.

Mia began testing the ties at her wrists. The cord might have felt slippery, but it refused to budge or to give any slack to her questing fingers. Her attempt to pick a separate strand with her nails came to nothing and, with her wrists tortured by the single-strap plastic cuff every time she attempted to twist them, she quickly gave up the futile effort. Soon there was no feeling in her fingers, and her hands were growing numb.

Mia let her body relax as much as possible, fighting down the urge to panic and struggle against her bonds. She was not blindfolded but the trunk was pitch dark and stuffy. Her head felt heavy. There was a pounding in her chest as she breathed the stale air, and her temples ached.

She closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the dark confinement, much as she had done days ago when held prisoner in the cellar of the condemned dockside tenement during her first capture by the gang. The only thing about that time she wanted to remember was that there she first met Melody. Since then they had experienced the adventures and anguish as fellow prisoners so many times that, for Mia’s part, they had an unbreakable bond forged from shared fright, pain, and mutual support. As she had done when wrapped from head to foot in layers of satin sheeting in that cellar, Mia emptied her mind and drifted into a silent, safe place deep within her psyche.

Then something strange occurred, although she did not think it unusual at the time. In a shift of awareness, Mia found herself looking down upon the huddled form that was her body. And then she was somewhere on the inside of the car’s roof observing every hair on the back of the driver’s fat neck. Next she was floating suspended above the car as it sped along the straight dark road lit by the twin broadening lines of the headlights. There was pain no longer. Instead, Mia felt a deep sense of peace and freedom. She seemed to hang there for a very long time. Then all at once she became concerned for the figure lying on its side in the trunk of the car. In that instant she was back in the claustrophobic dark, bound and virtually motionless, her body aching all over and drenched with sweat. Pins and needles were running up and down her arms, and there was no feeling in her hands any more.

I can be free, she thought. I am not just this body; not only a moderately attractive woman. There’s something more. But, try as she might, Mia could not recapture that moment of epiphany. She was again helpless: bound, gagged and frightened.

*

‘I’s goin’ slow a’ purpose, Johnny. Don’ wan’ the cops t’pick us up fer speedin’.’

‘That’s okay Hudson old mate. Take your time. We’re outa the place now and I don’t see anyone following. Y’know where to go don’t you? ... How’re you feeling Molly?’

‘Better, thanks Johnny. I’m glad to be out of there.’

Molly Fusil wrapped her arms around her body and rocked gently to and fro. The after-effects of her sudden change in fortune, and the physical trauma of sitting bound and gagged in the cellar at the mercy of Sir Murgatroyd and Karl, were overtaking her. She was a tough woman, had seen and done a lot in her forty years, but the events of the last few hours had severely battered her self-confidence. She rested her head against Johnny Montague’s shoulder. He responded by raising his arm and putting it around her so that her face pressed against his chest.

‘Johnny, I now have a very dangerous enemy. That bastard Murgatroyd has a long memory. I might keep away from him for a year or two. But then it will happen. One night somewhere, suddenly at home or in a street or a park, in a hotel or a restaurant. They’ll come for me. If I’m lucky, I’ll be shipped out like those girls he trades in. If I’m unlucky ...’ Her voice trailed off. Then she took a breath and gathered a little of the fire she had for the moment lost. ‘Destinos, Johnny. We don’t know what our actions will bring.’

‘Yeah, I know kid. Best thing is to cop it on the chin, and don’t stop fighting. Eh Hudson?’

‘Yeah Johnny. Don’ give up, I always say. There was times in th’ ring you’re asked t’take a fall.’

‘No way mate. You never did.’

God, I didn’t know these were such tough characters, thought Molly as she drifted into an exhausted sleep in Johnny’s arms.

*

‘Slow down you men. I can’t keep up!’

Cuthbert Brentford gave an exasperated grunt and plodded on without looking back. Rupert Orly turned and made a vaguely conciliatory gesture towards the girl who was limping several paces behind them.

Jasmine Morris pouted, but it was not the sort of pretty pout that she usually affected. ‘I’m cold and wet, and this wind is blowing up a storm. And my hair’s all washed out and stringy. It’s all your fault! Why couldn’t you have found a car?’

Brentford sighed resignedly. His affections for the girl were crumbling, leaving in their stead an empty feeling. ‘Because there was no car to be found, you little twit!’ he shouted back against the wind, which was indeed rising.

‘Steady on, old bird,’ said Orly temporisingly. ‘We’re all in the same boat, almost literally,’ he muttered as an afterthought. Then, turning to Jasmine, he added in order to reinforce the point, ‘We looked in the shed at the back of the house where the car should have been, but it was gone. You know we had to wait till everyone left. It’s not surprising that they took all the vehicles.’

‘Not surprising,’ repeated Brentford gloomily. ‘But this is only a temporary setback to our plans.’

‘Think of the warm dry hotel room we’ll get to, eventually,’ said Orly encouragingly.

‘But I want that diamond! And neither of you did anything to get that Hazard woman and make her tell where it is.’

It was Orly’s turn to shrug and ignore Jasmine. He did not try to explain once again, for about the fourth time since leaving the chateau, that Melody Hazard was well-guarded by armed men, and in any case was very capable of looking after herself.

The trio continued on their way along the dark glistening road, the sepulchral trees standing sentinel on either side of them as they passed. A pair of eyes watched from deep within the foliage of one tree. The KAS scout chuckled softly and raised a walkie-talkie to his ear.

*

Sergeant Sarah Jenn signalled for a pause in her conversation with Sergeant Monty Behre and brought the head-phone to her ear. After listening for several seconds she grunted the words, ‘Detail report to base,’ and lowered the hand mike. Excusing herself, she walked to the briefing room and rapped sharply at the door. Three faces turned expectantly towards her as she entered and saluted smartly.

‘Superintendent Devereau, one of our KAS scouts reports seeing the two Englishmen Brentford and Orly and the girl Jasmine Morris leaving the chateau. They are on foot and making heavy going of it in the storm. Shall we bring them in?’

‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Devereau. ‘Our policy is to allow all but the prime criminals to leave. With your help we’ll keep tabs on them, in the hope that they’ll lead us to the big one that got away. You might consider giving that last group a helping hand.’

‘I understand, Sir!’ Sergeant Jenn saluted and left.

Clive Devereau turned back to Broderick Clifford and Oscar Holme. ‘Yes, you see, it’s not the small fry we want. It’s the, ah, big fish, as I said. And, in any event, they were instrumental in helping Melody Hazard and Mia Chantal escape from the gang led by Molly Fusil aka the Gun, who are in Murgatroyd’s pay. We owe them something for that. Where is Melody, by the way?’

‘Trying to take a well-earned sleep,’ said Brod, ‘But she keeps waking up asking for Mia. There’s nothing we can tell her.’

‘No,’ agreed Oscar, ‘Mia Chantal has disappeared completely and we have grave fears for her safety. The KAS surveillance teams have not spotted a vehicle of any kind leaving the scene.’

‘What about the other gang members?’

‘They passed through the village and are on the highway into the city. We expect to lose them any minute. But that’s part of the equation.’

‘Yes,’ said Brod, shifting uneasily in his chair. ‘Looks like it’s back to the waiting game.’

‘Quite,’ said Devereau ruminatively. He looked up at Brod and Oscar. ‘And there’s another thing ...’

*

The gale reached its peak, whipping across the turrets and walls of the chateau and moaning through the trees at the cliff top. The foam crashed and spumed across the slipway at the foot of the cliff, penetrating what earlier had been a small area of calm. A mile down the coast the rocks gave way to a narrow sandy beach. Along the edge of the surf walked a figure, apparently oblivious to the sheets of rain that enveloped it with each squall of wind. He was tall and lanky, every step was jerky, mechanical. A string of seaweed festooned his head and trailed down one side of his face. A streak of dribble hung from his chin. He muttered as he walked.

To be Continued...

Chapter Twenty-One

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