A Question of Guilt(94)

‘Jeremy, this is crazy!’ I said, desperately trying to delay the moment the pain would begin. ‘We’ve known each other since I was a little girl. You taught me to ride – have you forgotten all that?’

‘Of course not.’ Unbelievably, he was the same suave character he had always been, except that now I’d seen the ruthlessness that lay beneath, driven, no doubt, by greed. ‘But it’s a long time ago now, Sally. Believe me, I am sorry, but I can’t take the risk of too much interest in me, or the warehouse. It’s too important to me.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Would it surprise you to know that there are treasures worth many thousands of pounds not more than a few yards from where you are sitting? This operation is a very profitable one, which is more than I can say for my investment business. But that makes a very good cover for my travels.’

‘When you arrange the transportation of stolen treasures.’

Jeremy smiled slightly. ‘Something like that. But please, don’t let’s waste any more time. I need the diaries, Sally. And I will have them, one way or another, make no mistake of that.’ He turned to Jason. ‘I’ll leave this to you. Let me know when Sally decides to give us some answers.’

He moved away, out of my line of sight, towards the rear of the warehouse, and Jason came closer. He was grinning, getting out a cigarette and lighting it.

‘First things first . . .’ He yanked open my top, exposing my décolletage, drew on his cigarette and brought the glowing tip close to my face, so close I could no longer see it, but could feel the heat.

He was going to burn me. This couldn’t be happening . . . it couldn’t! But it was. I squeezed my eyes shut, gritting my teeth, determined, even now, not to crack, but more terrified than I had ever been in my life as I waited . . . waited . . .

The crash of the warehouse door bursting open made me jump so much that the burning cigarette did actually make contact with my skin, and I screamed. But the pain lasted a few seconds only.

Startled, I opened my eyes. Two uniformed policemen were running across the open space, and Jason was diving for the open door. But a tall figure was barring his way.

Josh. Oh my God, it was Josh.

What happened next is all rather a blur to me. I remember screaming Josh’s name, as he and the two policemen grappled with Jason Barlow. I remember struggling frantically and futilely against the ropes that were binding me. I remember trying to tell them that Jeremy was somewhere in the warehouse. Later I learned that he had escaped through a rear door and driven off, but he didn’t get far. In the narrow lane he had met another police car racing to the scene and when he tried to squeeze past it he had run into the ditch and been apprehended.

I remember Josh freeing me from my bonds, chafing my wrists and ankles, calling for an ambulance that I was trying to tell him I didn’t need. And I remember his arms around me, holding me close, whispering against my hair. Of all my memories of that awful day, it is that one that I want to hug to me and cherish forever.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t come with you, Sally,’ Josh said when the ambulance arrived and the paramedics insisted on taking me to A & E to have me checked over. ‘I’m afraid there are things I have to do, and I’m needed here.’

He nodded in the direction of the warehouse, where no fewer than three distinctive police vehicles were now drawn up at crazy angles in the parking area outside, hemming in Dad’s car, Josh’s and Jeremy’s, and Jason’s motor bike. I looked at him blankly.

Needed here? What was he talking about?

Josh grinned faintly. ‘I know, I’ve got some explaining to do. But I expect you’ve realized by now that newspaper photographer isn’t my usual day job.’

‘Well, yes, but I thought . . .’ I broke off. I didn’t want to admit what I’d thought – how could I ever have suspected for a moment that Josh was an international criminal? But my brain still wasn’t working properly – I was still a bit woozy from the drugs Jeremy had given me, and reaction to what I’d just been through had kicked in too, so that I was shaky and confused.

‘I’ll fill you in properly later,’ Josh went on. ‘But the fact is the job at the Gazette was just my cover story. Actually, I’m afraid, I’m a policeman with the regional crime squad. We’ve known for some time there was a clearing house in the locality for art and curios coming in from the continent – stuff worth millions that’s been stolen to order. I’ve been working under cover, gathering information, and waiting for the evidence – a big shipment and the brains behind the outfit both to be in the same place at the same time.’