Ivo surged to his feet. "It's not your call," he said aggressively. "You made that deal without asking the rest of us. I say we go… pack up now before we end up in deeper shit than we're in already. I'm a hundred percent sure the cops didn't take anyone's registration except Fox's, so, barring Bella, who he knows from before, he's only got vague descriptions to go on."
"What about Bella?" asked Gray.
"She can talk her way out of it when they catch up with her… say she was scared for her kids and didn't need the aggro. It's the truth. None of us needs the fucking aggro."
They all looked at Bella. "Well?" Zadie asked.
"Can't see the point," she said mildly, taking some heat from the argument. "For a kickoff, we've all got stuff outside that needs bringing in-my kids' bikes for one-and I don't fancy being caught in the open if Fox comes back."
"Safety in numbers," said Ivo, pacing restlessly in the aisle. "If we're all in the open, there'll be too many targets. But we need to move now. The longer we wait, the worse our chances." He jerked his chin at Gray. "You know damn well what's gonna happen. We'll have the busies on our backs for days. It'll be the kids taking the brunt of it, and who needs that?"
Gray looked uncertainly toward his wife. "What do you think?"
"Maybe," said Zadie, with an apologetic shrug for Bella.
"Maybe nothing," she said bluntly, lighting her cigarette and taking a satisfying inhalation. "I told Mr. Barker I'd keep you in, and that's what I'm gonna do." She eyed Ivo thoughtfully through the smoke. "Looks to me like you're the one brought the fuzz down on our heads, and now you're trying to stampede the rest of us to get yourself off the hook."
"How do you make that out?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I ain't got nothing to hide… 'n' I'm fucked if I'm leaving till I know Wolfie's okay. Fox don't worry me, long as I'm in my bus… Mr. Barker don't worry me neither. You fucking do, though. What're you running from, 'n' what's this 'crimes in Dorset' crap, eh? Far as I'm concerned, Fox is a murdering bastard-probably a thief to boot-but he ain't stupid. I gave him more than enough time to get back to his bus-but all the time in the world wouldn't've helped if he didn't know he needed to. Reckon it was you up at the farm after bits of machinery to nick. It's what you do, ain't it? You've got enough equipment in your luggage compartment to start a fucking garden center, mate. I've seen it."
"That's bullshit."
She blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "Don't think so. Maybe you was planning to give the project a whirl when you joined, but you sure as hell gave up on it by lunchtime. You was always gonna scarper tomorrow… so I reckon you went on the prowl looking to compensate yourself for wasted time-" she shrugged-"'n' now you're wetting yourself in case Fox comes back and beats the shit out of you for fouling his patch. Whatever he's up to, he ain't gonna be pleased to have cops crawling all over the place."
"You're in the same boat. You told your copper friend about Vixen and Cub. You think Fox is going to be any more pleased about that?"
"Wouldn't think so."
"Then use some sense and get out while the going's good. The police won't find him. He'll go to ground somewhere, then come after us."
"He won't take us on in here-assuming he can break the door down, which I doubt." She smiled slightly. "It won't help you, mind. Either way, someone's gonna do you. If it ain't Fox, it'll be Mr. Barker when people start reporting their hedge trimmers stolen… but that's your problem, mate. One thing's for sure, I don't plan to get my throat slit 'coz you're too scared to go outside on your own. You wanna save your arse, save it yourself, but don't try 'n' pretend you're doing the rest of us a favor. 'N' don't take your kids and your lady out there, neither," she added, glancing at the introvert woman who claimed to be Ivo's wife. "She can't handle Fox on her own if you decide to leg it."
He launched a frustrated kick at one of her seats. "Maybe Fox isn't the only one who wants to slit your throat, you fat bitch. You're too fucking friendly with the cops. Who's to say it wasn't you brought them out here? You've been carrying on about Wolfie's mum most of the day. It wouldn't surprise me if you decided to do something about it."
She shook her head. "Not me… 'n' I wouldn't be pointing the finger at someone else if had." She jabbed her cigarette at him. "I ain't scared of Fox. He's no different from any other two-bit con artist… throws his weight around, hoping to get his own way… and when it all goes pear-shaped looks for someone else to blame… usually a woman. Remind you of anyone, you little fucker?"
"You've got a big mouth, Bella. Someone should have slapped you down a long time ago."
"Yeah… right. You wanna try?" She shook her head disdainfully. "Nah. Didn't think so. Maybe it's a good thing this project's dead in the water. I'd go mad with a pathetic little weasel like you for a neighbor."
Fox's trail went cold at the end of the terrace. Barker and Wyatt cast around for footprints on the lawn but, even after James had switched on the outside lights, few of which were working, there was nothing to indicate which direction he'd taken. Spots of blood showed here and there on the flagstones but if they continued on the grass they were black on black in the dark. Reluctant to confuse the trail with their own footprints, they abandoned the search and returned to the French windows.
There was a heated debate going on inside the drawing room between Monroe and Mark Ankerton, with Mark Ankerton backed up against the door to the hall and both men wielding their forefingers like clubs. "No, I'm sorry, Sergeant. Captain Smith has made it abundantly clear that she does not wish to go to hospital, nor is she ready at the moment to answer questions about the incident on Colonel Lockyer-Fox's terrace. As her lawyer, I insist that her views are respected."
"For Christ's sake, man," Monroe protested, "she's got blood all over her face, and her arm's obviously broken. It's more than my job's worth to have Dorset police sued because I refused to call an ambulance."
Mark ignored him. "In addition, as Wolfie's lawyer, I am advising him that he should, under no circumstances, answer questions until the legal guidelines regarding the interrogation of children are implemented-principally, a full understanding of what he's being questioned about, absence of pressure, unalarming surroundings, and the presence of an adult he knows and trusts."
"I object to the language you're using, sir. There's no question of interrogation. I merely want to satisfy myself that he's all right."
Martin stepped through the window. "What's going on?" he demanded.
Monroe gave an angry sigh. "The girl and the boy have disappeared with the Colonel, and Mr. Ankerton's refusing to let me call an ambulance or give me access to them."
"It'll be the kid," said Barker, reaching for the telephone on the bureau. "He's terrified of the police. That's why he took off earlier when we were searching the campsite. I'd leave them to it, if I were you. We don't want him vanishing again with his father roaming around outside." He nodded to Ankerton. "May I use the phone?"
"It's disconnected. I'll plug it in if Mr. Monroe agrees to stay away from my clients."
Barker yanked at the lead. "Do it," he ordered Monroe, "or it'll be you carrying the can if this bastard goes to ground in someone's house and takes hostages." He tossed his mobile to him. "If that rings, answer it. It'll be a woman called Bella Preston. As for you, sir," he told Mark, as the younger man went down on all fours to push in the jack plug, "I suggest you lock the Colonel and your clients into a bedroom until I give you the all-clear. I don't trust this man not to come back."