The Lost Gardens(86)

‘I think so,’ he replied, rubbing the back of his head. He shifted his position slightly and winced. ‘Bloody hell. I’m sorry.’

‘Let’s get you up and out of here,’ said Kingston. ‘Put your arm round my neck.’

With Jamie supporting him on one side and Kingston on the other, they got Roger to a standing position.

‘I think I’m fine,’ said Roger taking a couple of tentative steps.

‘Thank God for that,’ said Jamie. ‘That trunk came awfully close.’

Kingston had a grip on one of the trunk’s leather handles and was starting to drag it toward the steps. Jamie and Roger watched and waited silently as Kingston reached the bottom step.

‘That’ll be far enough. All of you, stay right where you are.’ The hollow voice came from behind, echoing off the walls.

Fox stepped out of the darkness of the corridor. In one hand he held a flashlight, in the other his gun levelled at Kingston.

‘Quite a trick, doctor. I have to give you credit.’ He came closer, motioning to Jamie and Roger to move away from the trunk. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like the real paintings. I take it they’re in there,’ he said, his eyes glancing to the trunk.

‘We don’t know,’ Kingston replied.

Fox laughed. ‘You don’t know? Don’t patronize me. You’d hardly be dragging that thing with you if it didn’t contain something valuable, now would you?’

‘I told you, Fox. We have no idea what’s in there. We haven’t opened it.’

Fox’s eyes darted back to the trunk and the padlock.

‘Why don’t you just do that now, then? You seem to be adept at drilling locks. Or do you have the key?’

‘There is no key,’ said Kingston.

‘Liar!’

‘There is no damned key,’ Kingston shouted.

For a moment, Fox looked flummoxed. He looked at Jamie. ‘Where’s the drill?’he snapped.

‘Up there,’ Jamie replied, pointing to the top of the steps.

‘Then get it.’

Jamie turned and started up the steps.

‘Wait!’ Fox said. ‘Don’t be stupid and try to make a run for it, woman. If you do, you may never see these two alive again.’

Jamie ran up the steps and returned with the tool bag.

‘Okay, doctor,’said Fox, ‘open the padlock.’

Kingston took the drill and triggered it on and off quickly. The small carbon bit was still in there. Gripping the lock with his left hand and twisting it into a fixed position to stop it from slipping, he started to drill. In less than a minute the shackle came free.

Fox moved closer, the gun in one hand trained on Kingston’s back, the flashlight in the other aimed at the trunk. ‘Open it up,’ he said.

Kingston gripped the lid with both hands and lifted it.

Looking down into the trunk, he smiled.





Chapter Twenty-five

‘Take it all out, damn it! Empty the bloody thing!’ Fox shouted, inching closer.

Kingston glanced briefly over his shoulder and started to remove the contents of the trunk, two and three pieces at a time. Soon, on the floor beside him was a growing pile of framed pictures. A glittering assortment of sterling, ivory, wood, gilt, bronze and silver finish frames. Nearly all of them held photos of individuals or family groups. A number of the subjects were men in military officer uniforms. Next, Kingston started to remove all manner of documents. Some looked like letters, bundled together with string or elastic bands. There were folders, cigar boxes and document cases filled with old papers. When the trunk was empty, Kingston stood and turned to Fox. ‘That’s all of it,’ he said.

Fox motioned with the gun for Kingston to move aside and stepped up to the trunk and looked down. ‘It’s impossible, ’ he muttered. He swung round and stepped to within a foot of Kingston, glowering at him, fuming. ‘Where are the goddamned paintings? What have you done with them?’

With Fox’s face now inches from his and the gun pointed at his stomach, Kingston fought to stay calm. ‘There were three canvases in the crate back there,’ he said staring into Fox’s menacing dark eyes. ‘That’s all. And we gave them to you.’

‘You’re a liar, Kingston! I saw one of those paintings and it’s not any of the three you handed over—that worthless trash. Tell me now or you’ll regret it. Where the hell are they?’

‘He’s telling the truth,’ Jamie cut in.

‘Shut up!’ Fox snapped.

‘You might as well give up,’ Ferguson interrupted. ‘Let us all go.’

Fox didn’t answer right away. He had stepped away from Kingston and was sizing him up, looking at his jacket. It was evident that the two outside pockets were far too small to contain the canvases, even ones that were tightly folded.