‘This is a fire escape. .’ he said. Reaching out, he took hold of the crash bar which stretched across it, and pushed lightly. The door swung open. ‘. . and very recently, someone’s used it, then closed it after them as best they could — you can’t close these things properly from the outside.’
‘Why the hell would Dawn leave by the fire escape?’ Miles asked, sounding rattled and bewildered.
‘She wouldn’t, unless she didn’t want anyone to see her. . or unless someone else didn’t.’
There was a long, deadly silence, as Miles faced up to the truth which had come to me downstairs. ‘This could be your man, Oz, couldn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘I’m afraid so,’ I acknowledged. ‘He’s just picked a softer target this time. I’m sorry, man.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘No,’ said Mark, grimly. ‘If it’s anyone’s, it’s mine. I should have put someone on Dawn as well. But hold on; before we jump to conclusions let’s search the grounds. We’ll look like right Charlies if we push the panic button then find her asleep in a garden seat. Let’s search out there before we do anything else. Come on, down this fire escape.’
We followed him down the steel staircase; it was almost dark outside, but as we stepped into the garden, movement sensors triggered a series of bright halogen lamps set along the back wall of the mansion. The grounds, two acres in all were set most in lawn, with four benches dotted around in various places. They were all empty.
‘Wait a minute,’ Kravitz exclaimed, then walked briskly across to the far corner of the property, where a path led through the shrubs to a gate in the back wall. It swung on its hinges. ‘Fuck!’ he swore quietly. ‘This was secure when I rechecked it this morning. It’s been jemmied.’ He stepped through the open doorway and took a quick look outside. ‘There’s a narrow road out there,’ he said as he rejoined us. ‘And there are fresh tyre marks on the verge. From the size of them I’d say they could have been made by a van.
‘I’m sorry, Miles. I’d say for sure that someone’s taken her.’
I’ve seen Miles Grayson happy, serious, drunk, sober, you name it; until then I’d never seen him frightened.
‘How the hell could they have got in?’ he protested.
‘Probably the same way they got out,’ Mark guessed.
‘But you can’t open those doors from the outside either.’
‘Sure you can, if you know what you’re doing.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Call the police, for starters,’ said the bodyguard. ‘But first; let’s have another look at the bedroom.’ As we made our way back to the house, I saw Gerrie, Scott, and the others staring at us through the dining room window. I ignored them and ran back up the fire escape, on Mark’s heels.
‘What are we looking for?’ I asked as we stepped back into the bedroom.
‘Something that wasn’t here before,’ he answered. ‘Miles, does Dawn have any jewellery with her?’
‘Yeah. There’s a safe behind the mirror in the bathroom.’
‘Open it, please.’
We watched as the actor did as he was told, spinning the dial, clockwise, clockwise again, then anti-clockwise, before pulling the small door open and peering inside. ‘The stuff’s still there,’ he growled. ‘But. .’ He reached into the safe and drew out a long brown envelope. ‘What the fuck’s this?’
Okay, I know that there are millions of brown envelopes in use in Britain, some offering junk mail bargains, some containing bills, some in politicians’ pockets. But when I saw the one which Miles held in his hand, I was back in the Horseshoe Bar, watching Mike Dylan reach into the pocket of his Hugo Boss jacket.
‘I’ll bet you that what’s inside is unsigned, was written on a word processor, then run off on an ink-jet printer, and that it’s virtually untraceable.’
Miles and Mark looked at me. ‘You’d better handle it carefully,’ I said, ‘just in case, but there’ll be no prints on it, other than yours.’
It wasn’t sealed. Miles slid two fingers inside and drew out a single sheet of white A4, folded twice. ‘No police,’ he read aloud, ‘or your wife is dead. Neither the locals, nor Mr Dylan in Glasgow. Involve them, and I’ll know. You will be contacted again and given instructions on how to secure the return of Mrs Grayson. This is not a movie, this is for real; do as you’re told or you’ll be looking for a new co-star.’
He held it up for us to see. It looked just like Susie Gantry’s love-letters; I shuddered as I thought of her car, exploding in flames.
‘What d’you think?’ Miles growled. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was set in a tight line. The fear had gone; suddenly he looked very dangerous.
‘I think you should take it very seriously,’ I said.
‘Oh I will, Oz, I will. Finding this bastard and getting Dawn back is my life’s work for now; and when I do that, I’m going to kill him.’
‘Like he says, Miles,’ Kravitz interrupted, quietly, ‘this is not a movie. You have to control your anger in these situations; you can’t allow yourself to focus on side issues like getting even. Recovering Dawn, that’s the only objective.’
‘If you say so,’ Miles snapped, sounding as if he meant not a word. ‘Where do we start?’
‘With the police, I’d say.’
‘No fucking way! You heard what he said.’
‘Every kidnapper says that; almost invariably it’s a bluff.’
‘I don’t like “almost”. I will not take the slightest risk with Dawn’s life.’ He looked at me. ‘Oz, this is the same guy? You certain?’
‘Absolutely. The letter is identical to the ones Susie received. Plus, he knows about Dylan.’
‘So how do we play this?’
‘We’ll need to keep it close for a start, among ourselves. Dawn’s a celebrity; if she doesn’t show up for work tomorrow, it’ll be public knowledge damn soon. So we shouldn’t even tell the people downstairs the truth about what’s happened.’
Miles nodded. ‘I’ll deal with that. Afterwards?’
‘We do some serious thinking. . while we’re waiting for the next contact from the guy.’
‘What does he want, d’you think?’
‘One of two things,’ Mark answered. ‘He wants money, or he wants Oz. . or maybe he wants both. This is the end of the game, that’s for sure.’
‘It is for him,’ Miles snarled. The anger seemed to crackle from him in sparks. He held up a hand. ‘Okay, okay, okay,’ he went on. ‘I’ll try to keep a lid on it, I promise. It’s just so fucking difficult. You got any thoughts about this so far?’
‘I’m a minder, Miles, not a detective. But I know this. We’re dealing with someone close.’
‘Close to what?’
‘Close to Oz, close to everything. With luck we should be able to put a name to him.’
‘Miles. .’ Gerrie Baker’s voice floated through from somewhere outside the bedroom.
‘Let’s get this started,’ the Australian muttered. ‘Okay, Geraldine,’ he called out. ‘We’re coming; we’ll see you back in the dining room in a minute.’
He turned to us. ‘I know how we’re going to play this, to begin with at least. When we get down there, you guys follow my lead. Whatever I say, you back it up. Come on.’
He led the way down the wide staircase and back to the dining room, where the rest of the party were waiting for us. The chef was there too, looking more than a bit pissed off. ‘Go get Mr Jones and the waiter,’ Miles ordered. ‘I want them to hear this too.’
When the full household, minus one, was assembled Miles looked solemnly round the room. ‘What I’m going to tell you doesn’t leave here,’ he said, making eye contact with the three domestics, one by one. ‘Understood?’ All three nodded.
‘Those of you who’ve worked with me before will know that Dawn and I can get a bit edgy when we get close to the end of a project. This time it’s been worse than usual; she’s got herself really uptight. We found a note upstairs, saying that she’s gone away for a few days.
‘I trust my wife to do what’s best for me and for our project, so I’m going along with that. At the same time, I don’t want any crap in the press. You know what the showbiz writers are like; you show up alone in a McDonald’s and next thing you read, your marriage is on the rocks. So the official line is that Dawn’s got a virus, and that shooting has been suspended for a week.