The Stealers Page 13

  ‘They’re in the cellar.’

  ‘Well they can stew there for a while.’ Looking past Crane, Bradley called out, ‘Come on Penny, get in the car and we’ll go and see your sister Jean… oh, and don’t forget the boy.’

  Penny hesitated for a moment, but this was interrupted by Andrew shuffling down the stairs, ‘I’m hungry Auntie.’

  Penny gave Crane a nervous glance as she drifted past him and called out to Bradley, ‘The boy’s not eaten, it’s well past his lunch time.’

  ‘Should have thought of that before; bring him out, I’ve some chocolate in the car.’

  Penny stepped outside with Andrew trailing behind and Bradley said, ‘You can follow me in your Mini.’ He stood and watched whilst Penny strapped Andrew into the rear seat and when she climbed into the driver’s seat, Bradley focused his attention back towards Crane; who stood framed in the doorway. Waving the remote control towards him, as a reminder of his callous intent, said, ‘Now you can open the cellar door.’

  At that point the sound of heavy feet clumping on gravel seemed to put things on hold. Bradley turned his head towards the sound; it was Henri Girard lolloping towards them.

  ‘Bonjour’ he said as he slowly lumbered past the gathering and headed towards the front door of the house with his haversack dangling from his broad shoulders.

  Bradley looked askance – it was his first encounter with Girard. ‘Parlez-vous Anglais?’

  Girard threw a glance over his shoulder and simply replied, ‘Oui.’

  The semi-arrogant reply irritated Bradley and he said, ‘Well who the fuck are you then?’

  ‘Je m’appelle, erm, my name is Henri Girard.’

  ‘Where the fuck do you think you’re going?’

  Henri Girard looked at his watch and said, ‘In the chateau. It is past time for my lunch and I am hungry.’

  His laissez-faire attitude did nothing to enhance Bradley’s mood as he leant on the roof of his car and he said snappily, ‘Well, what the devil are you doing here?’

  ‘Mr Ryan is paying me to keep away intruders. I walk all around the borders of the estate, many kilometres – it takes a long time.’

  At the mention of Ryan’s name Bradley calmed down and said, ‘Right, okay, well pick up that gun and take that man, an intruder – the one you missed – inside, then release my men from the cellar and put him in it – is that clear?’

  ‘Oui – no problem.’

  Bradley watched the two men enter the house before striding over to the spot where Crane had tossed the keys. He picked them up, returned to the BMW, and carried the comatose Sammy over to where the Mustang was parked and placed her inside. Signalling to Penny to follow, he climbed into the driver’s seat and drove off with Penny following behind in her Mini.

  To Crane’s surprise, Girard ushered him past the cellar door and into the kitchen, motioning him to sit down. Girard set his bag on the table, dropped the Glock inside and took out a bottle of red wine. He turned and looked around. There were plenty of glasses in the sideboard and he plucked two from a dusty shelf, examined them before setting them on the table. The Frenchman then removed a couple of stick loafs from the cupboard, tossed them on the table and took a large platter of cheeses from the fridge. ‘’Elp yourself,’ he proffered.

  Between mouthfuls, Girard said, ‘You are erm, sang froid eh?’

  ‘You seem pretty cool yourself.’ Crane replied cautiously.

  ‘I had to work on it. I am supposed to get a little excited once in a while because I am French, but no. So my friend, I am in no great hurry to get that Ryan out of the cellar. Why does the man who took your car want me to put you in the cellar?’

  Crane explained the reason he was there, to retrieve his Mustang, and now hopefully to secure the release of the young girl, Sammy.

  The Frenchman was very attentive and said, ‘I would steal a car; I would steal money if I had to, but I would never steal children.’

  ‘Your English is pretty good.’

  ‘I went to university in Paris; I studied English and Spanish. I wanted to be a linguist, but life always seems to play a different hand.’

  ‘How did you get mixed up with this lot?’

  ‘By accident I suppose. For nearly a year now, I am wanted throughout France for theft and murder, but it was self-defence – one of those ‘either him or me’ things ya know, and I prefer it to be me, that is, the one that remains alive. Pierre Marcel, the man I killed was evil. He stole my girlfriend and turned her into a prostitute. When she realised what was happening, she ran back to me, but it was too late. I tried to help her, but the evil bastard tracked her down and killed her. He got off; the witnesses changed their minds, no doubt scared or bought off, so I confronted him, he pulled a gun, a semi-automatic, before he could pull back the slide, well we fought and I killed him with his own weapon; and now I am wanted for murder. Pierre Marcel’s men may also be looking for me. They want to kill me for killing their boss.’

  They both remained silent for a moment and Girard, looking forlorn, could see the empathy in Crane’s face. Suddenly Girard stood up, drained his glass and stabbing his chest with his thumb announced with renewed vigour, ‘I, Henri Girard, will give you all the help I can.’

  *

  Penny followed behind Bradley in the Mustang. They had been on the road for an hour and Penny had plenty of time to think. With the passing of each kilometre an ominous feeling began to engulf her, causing her to feel more and more uneasy. Her mind drifted back to the conversation she had with Crane. The feeling worsened when Bradley turned into a remote single track lane with a hand-painted sign pointing to a chateau, “Chateau du Lac”. Its name plaque seemed to slap her in the face.

  Immediately steering with one hand on the wheel, her free hand groped inside the handbag which lay on the front passenger seat until, eventually her fingers clasped around her mobile phone. Balancing the mobile on her lap, she began texting Crane her whereabouts in the hope that somehow he will eventually receive it. A sombre grey stone structure loomed up, which only added to Penny’s fears and she shivered.

  She stared at the large three-storey house, remote and surrounded by wild and unkempt scrubland. To one side, there was a small dried up lake. The place seemed to reek of past despair. A dark green Bentley Mulsanne with darkened windows was parked outside on the wide gravel driveway. Bradley drew the Mustang alongside the Bentley and leapt out. Penny brought the Mini up behind the Mustang, turned the engine off and sat clutching the steering wheel. She was wondering whether to drive off or stay put until her sister came out of the house, but she could not convince herself that this was going to happen.

  A movement at the front of the house caught her attention. A portly, rotund woman came out to greet Bradley. As they spoke, Penny noticed the woman glancing in her direction. Bradley turned and motioned her to join them. A bolt of fear shot through Penny’s veins and she suddenly felt nauseous. Before reaching for the door handle, she checked her phone in the remote chance that she had missed a call from Crane, but then she remembered that he was in trouble before she left the farm and she tried to comfort herself with the thought; ‘If he manages to get away my text would be his only guide to where I have been taken.’

  Penny managed to summon up enough courage to walk slowly towards the huge front porch. Bradley introduced the rotund woman as Louise. She had a stern face and seemed to be trying hard to smile, although her English accent sounded pleasant enough. ‘Do come in, my dear, you must be tired. I have some freshly-made sandwiches inside for you and the boy.’

  Although feeling weary, Penny could have sworn that she spotted a knowing wink aimed at Bradley and it only added to her feeling of angst. She looked back over her shoulder towards her Mini; Andrew was craning his neck wondering what was happening. She knew him to be hungry, but the only words she could utter were, ‘Where’s my sister, Jean?’

  The portly Louise flicked a glance at Bradley, who answered with a smile, ‘In the house; she’s inside
getting ready.’ And as if to reinforce things he added, ‘You can wait out here if you like, but it was her idea for you to have something to eat; it’s up to you.’

  Bradley sounded so plausible that it was hard to believe that he was not telling the truth. It was what Penny wanted to hear and believe, so she went to fetch Andrew from the Mini and they followed Louise inside. As they stepped across the wide entrance hall Penny’s heart sank as she heard a loud audible snap of a key being turned in the lock. She was trapped.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Crane regarded Girard for a moment. He seemed sincere enough in wanting to help and he still retained that youthful exuberance that was hard to dislike, so Crane said, ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where Bradley is going?’

  The Frenchman shrugged his huge shoulders, ‘No, I am sorry; it’s the first time I’ve met him; and I don’t much care for him. How about the guys in the cellar? Maybe one of them knows.’

  Crane straightened up and said, ‘Let’s give it a try.’

  Girard became enthused and he bounded towards the cellar door, slid the bolt back and throwing the door open called out, ‘You guys want something to eat?’

  ‘We wanna get outta here you great French idiot!’ Ryan shouted back as he moved towards the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘First I want to know where Bradley has taken the child.’

  ‘None of your bloody business, Frenchie. We’re coming up.’

  The sound of Ryan’s heavy feet clumping on the first two treads prompted Girard to call back, ‘Okay, if you say so. I have a grenade in my hand, you know? – The one you gave to me. The pin has just fallen out and I don’t really want it any more, so I’m going to throw it down right now.’

  There was a scurrying of feet scrambling away from the stairs and a frantic cries of, ‘Wait, wait for fuck’s sake. None of us knows where he takes the kids, he’s never told us; he just drives off for a few hours and then comes back without them – it’s the truth.’

  Cries of, ‘Yeah. Yeah, that’s right,’ were audible amongst the others.

  Crane, standing behind Girard, said in a hushed tone, ‘They could be telling the truth.’

  Girard was enjoying himself as he answered quietly, ‘Let’s make sure, eh?’

  Crane looked askance as Girard shouted through the open door, ‘I don’t believe you; I think you are all lying. You are all boring me. You had better brace yourselves, here it comes.’

  Panicky screeches of, ‘We don’t know! We don’t know,’ reverberated around the confines of the cellar; echoing noisily up the staircase.

  With his last remark, Girard, grinning like a Cheshire cat, glanced at Crane and removed a chromed orb from his haversack; it was a heavy-chromed steel boule, about the size of a tennis ball. With some deliberation, he carefully lobbed it through the open cellar door so that it bounced and thumped, with a menacing sound, slowly down the stairs. Slamming the cellar door shut and still grinning, he shrugged and said to Crane, ‘You are right; I guess they don’t know.’

  There were no clues about the house as to where Bradley might have taken Penny and the children and after a short while Crane said, ‘It’s a long-shot, but I’m going to drive to the next town, just in case they are nearby. I suggest you let those villains go one at a time and make sure that they leave the farm, but not Ryan. He may be of some use later.’

  *

  They exchanged mobile numbers and Girard offered the Glock handgun to Crane, ‘You may need this, it may be of help.’

  Crane palmed the weapon and handed back the small Jennings semi-automatic, ‘This is yours. Oh, and by the way, one bullet’s missing; I left it in Ryan’s foot.’

  The Frenchman grinned, showing a row of healthy-looking teeth, ‘If he gives me any trouble… ’ His voice faded away as Crane dashed out into the yard.

  Crane climbed into the old Rover 620 and, as he drove along the farm track, pulled the mobile out of his pocket. The battery was flat. He cursed to himself when he realised, that he left the charger in the Mustang’s glove box. He turned into the 940 coast road and headed towards Boulogne in the vain hope that he might catch sight of the Mustang or Penny’s Mini but, at the very least, he would be able to buy an in-car charger for his mobile in the town.

  *

  Penny looked at the mouth-watering table that was laid out with food. Both she and Andrew were hungry and, seeing Bradley help himself, they too could not resist the fresh crusty French bread, or the mouth-watering cheeses and cold meats. Beverages were on hand and Louise offered a choice of soft drinks, wine or beer. ‘I prefer tea, if possible,’ Penny remarked.

  Louise bustled off and within minutes returned with a jug of hot water and some tea bags, leaving Penny to help herself.

  Bradley finished swigging from a beer bottle and said jovially, ‘No doubt you’ll be wanting to leave soon, I’ll go and see if Jean is ready.’

  Penny was beginning to believe she had overreacted and been mistaken about things. She threw a contented glance in Andrew’s direction. He was no longer hungry, after having stuffed himself with an assortment of cakes, followed by a generous helping of cola and he was now lost in the folds of a large armchair. He looked tired and began to yawn. It was contagious. Penny sat down in an armchair beside him, her eyes felt sore and heavy; after all, she told herself, it had been a long day with so much tension and worry. The temptation to close jaded eyelids – just for a moment – was too great to resist. As she did so she whispered softly to Andrew, ‘Mummy will be here soon.’

  *

  Crane plugged his newly acquired charger into the dashboard and waited patiently for the mobile to show signs of life. As soon as it powered up, a bleep warned him that there was a message waiting to be opened: it was Penny’s desperate text – two hours old. Crane fed the information into his satnav. The location was twenty-five kilometres south-west of Boulogne.

  He paced the Rover through narrow country lanes; at times, narrowly missing vehicles approaching in the opposite direction, until he entered the lane with an arrow pointing towards ‘Chateau du Lac.’ Crane eased his foot off the accelerator and, after two kilometres, he braked and managed to tuck the car off of the road as soon as the grey, looming stone building came into view. Before climbing out of the Rover, he forwarded Penny’s text to Girard’s mobile.

  Keeping to the hedgerows, Crane kept up a steady pace as he hurried towards the ominous-looking house, sometimes pausing to use his binoculars. He felt apprehensive when he spotted Penny’s Mini parked outside. It was the only vehicle to be seen so he quickly backtracked and jumped into the Rover. He drove up to the front door, leapt out and rang the bell. The door swung back almost immediately. Louise stood, one hand firmly clamped to the door and the other placed on her hip. She looked Crane up and down, ‘Que voulez-vous?’ she rasped. ‘What do you want?’

  Crane smiled pleasantly and nodded in the direction of Penny’s car, ‘Penny, the woman who owns that car.’

  Louise looked flummoxed, ‘She’s not here. Why do you want her?’

  ‘She’s a friend of mine and I know she would be glad to see me,’ Crane answered with a smile.

  ‘Well, she’s out,’ came the curt reply.

  ‘When will she be back?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ll wait if you don’t mind.’

  Louise was getting irritated, ‘This is private property.’

  Crane still smiling pleasantly said, ‘That’s okay, I’m a private person.’

  Louise’s jaw hardened as she said, ‘The master won’t like it.’

  ‘Oh, and who is he?’ Crane enquired.

  ‘None of your business,’ she snapped assertively.

  Crane had had enough. He half turned, as though he was about to leave, at the same time his right hand snatched at the waistband of his trousers, pulled out the Glock semi-automatic and spun back round, pointing the gun towards her chest.

  ‘You are beginning to annoy me,’ he snarled.


  Despite her portly size, Louise stepped back quite nimbly and tried to slam the heavy oak-panelled door, but Crane, anticipating this, was also quick and he barged against the door, knocking her off balance, so that she went sprawling and screeching across the polished marble floor of the spacious entrance hall. She lay there for a moment panting. Furious wide eyes stared at the business end of the Glock pointing downwards. As Crane stepped inside he kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

  ‘Let’s start all over again, where is Penny, the owner of that car?’

  Louise remained tight-lipped until Crane pulled back the slide on the gun and said with nonchalant chilling menace, ‘Well then, you are not much use to me – you can die right where you lay.’

  It was too much for Louise, her expression changed. ‘Monsieur, wait, wait,’ she wailed.

  Crane eased the gun to one side, ‘Well?’ he growled.

  ‘The lady went away with Bradley and the master.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Crane raised the weapon again.

  ‘Monsieur, I am never told such things.’

  Crane held the gun steady, his jaw set hard, there was real menace in his face. ‘Tell me what you do know, so that you may live.’

  The eyes, of the portly-looking woman, widened with fear as she spouted slowly, ‘The English lady, she came with a little boy. They ate, they drank… ’ her voice tailed off as she looked down.

  ‘What did they drink, sleeping draught?’

  ‘Oui, yes. When they were sound asleep, we carried them out into the master’s car.’

  ‘What kind of car?’

  ‘English car, called Bentley’

  ‘And you don’t know where they were going?’

  ‘No, monsieur. S’il vous plait… please, they do not tell me. I keep house and do as I am told.’