There was no sign of life but that was exactly what he’d expected. He’d been dragged to an isolated spot less than a mile outside the town and was probably under surveillance. Someone had a telescope trained on him to make sure that he’d obeyed his instructions. He picked up the leather bag and set it on his knees. As he did so, his elbow brushed against the weapon holstered under his coat. The sensation gave him both reassurance and bravado. Tunnadine wanted to rescue Imogen but he wanted to punish her abductors even more.
It seemed like an age before anyone appeared. Just as he was beginning to think that he’d been tricked, he saw a trap emerging from the trees on the other side of the field. A man was driving it with Imogen and Rhoda squeezed in either side of him. As soon as they came within range, Tunnadine wanted to leap up and shoot the man but he knew that there’d be an accomplice somewhere and couldn’t risk firing when the three figures in the trap were so close together. The newcomers stopped some twenty yards or more away. Whiteside stood up in the vehicle.
‘Good day to you, Mr Tunnadine!’ he called.
‘Who the devil are you?’
‘I’m the man who’s come to trade with you.’
‘Then hand over the two ladies at once,’ barked Tunnadine.
‘I’ll give the orders, if you don’t mind, sir.’
‘I do mind.’ He looked at Imogen. ‘Has he harmed you in any way?’
‘No, Clive,’ she replied, nervously.
‘Tell me the truth.’
‘We are … as well as can be expected.’
‘Where did they hold you?’
‘You can talk to her after I’ve had what I came for,’ said Whiteside, cutting short their brief conversation. ‘Now, this is what you must do.’
‘Don’t presume to order me about,’ said Tunnadine, belligerently. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’
‘Do as he says,’ pleaded Imogen.
Whiteside smirked. ‘Do what your beloved tells you.’
‘Release her now or your life is forfeit.’
Tunnadine tried to pull out his weapon but, before he could do so, a gun had appeared miraculously in the other man’s hand. Imogen and Rhoda shrunk back. Whiteside used the barrel of the weapon to indicate what he wanted.
‘Get out of the trap,’ he ordered. ‘Walk forward ten yards and put the ransom down on the ground. Then you can go back again.’
‘What will you be doing?’
‘Oh, I’ll be counting the money, sir. Once I’ve seen that you’ve paid me the prescribed amount, I’ll set the ladies free.’
The politician hesitated. He’d been told by Kee to keep the kidnapper talking for as long as he could so that the detective could get into position. He picked up the bag and climbed out of the trap.
‘I despise you for what you’ve done,’ he said with utter contempt.
‘I can live without your good opinion, sir.’
‘You’ll be hunted down, you know.’
Whiteside laughed. ‘Nobody’s caught up with me so far.’
‘How do I know that you’ll do as you promised?’
‘You don’t.’
‘Put that weapon away.’
‘I rather like holding it, if you don’t mind.’
‘Where have you been keeping them?’
‘They’ve been kept safe and sound, as you can see,’ said Whiteside with a quiet chuckle. ‘Now stop asking questions. You’re worse than Sir Marcus.’
Tunnadine was shaken. ‘You’ve seen Sir Marcus?’
‘Yes, sir, he was kind enough to make a generous donation to me. Look at it from my point of view. Why send one ransom note when two will bring in twice as much? Now walk forward ten paces and put it on the ground.’
Tunnadine’s brain was whirring. If Sir Marcus had paid a ransom, he’d clearly been tricked because the two ladies were still being held. Not only was the kidnapper untrustworthy, he was holding a gun. The politician needed help.
Staying low, Alban Kee had crept along the margin of the field. He’d removed his hat so that it didn’t protrude above the hedge. He also removed the weapon inside it so that it was ready for instant use. As far as he could see, there was nobody about. By the time that the kidnapper appeared, Kee was on his knees, peering through a gap in the bushes and able to see the confrontation between the two men. He put his hat down and took out the gun from inside his coat. With a weapon in each hand, he felt almost invincible. His overconfidence was mistaken. He was concentrating so hard on the scene in front of him that he didn’t hear Cullen drop down silently from a tree some twenty yards behind him. The Irishman approached stealthily. At the very moment that Kee stood up to shoot, the butt of a gun struck him hard on the back of the skull.
‘How kind of you to remove your hat for me, sir!’ said Cullen as the body fell to the ground in front of him. ‘Now, if you’ll be so good as to let me have those dangerous weapons of yours, I’ll put them where they can do no harm.’
Imogen Burnhope could not bear to look. Standing not far away was the man she had agreed to marry yet from whom she’d fled. Beside her was the person she’d been led to accept as a devoted lover, only to find out that he’d betrayed her for monetary gain. Neither of them had any appeal whatsoever to her. Forced into a choice, she’d have to pick Tunnadine because he’d never threaten to kill her as Whiteside had done. On the other hand, he’d revile her when he realised what she’d done to him. Imogen was in agonies. She was held fast between two millstones.
‘Come forward and put the money down,’ said Whiteside, sharply, ‘or I’ll shoot you where you stand and leave you for the birds to feed on.’
Tunnadine looked around hopefully but Alban Kee was nowhere in sight. He walked forward ten paces, put the bag on the ground then stood there with his hands on his hips and glared.
‘Meet me face to face, if you dare,’ he challenged. ‘I want to look you in the eye.’
‘Very well,’ replied Whiteside, jumping down from the trap. ‘I will. You’re a lucky man, Mr Tunnadine. You picked well. Imogen will make a lusty wife for you.’
‘Shut your filthy mouth!’
Whiteside waved the gun. ‘Remember which one of us is armed, sir.’
‘I’m not afraid of you.’
The kidnapper strode towards him, then stopped when he was a couple of yards away. He met the politician’s withering stare without flinching. He raised the gun.
‘Tip the money onto the ground and count it for me.’
‘It’s all there.’
‘For Imogen’s sake, do as you’re told. Don’t make me shoot. She hates the sight of blood.’ He moved forward and kicked the bag over. ‘Count it!’
Tunnadine was forced to obey. Having hoped for intervention from Kee, he’d concluded that the detective was not able to offer him assistance. He was on his own but at least he had a chance against the kidnapper. It was clear that the man could not be cowed into submission by the sustained glower that Tunnadine had used so successfully against political opponents. Force was the only answer.
When he bent down, he unlocked the bag, opened it out and tipped the contents onto the grass. Thick wads of banknotes tumbled out. Whiteside was gleeful.
‘Don’t worry, sir,’ he said. ‘The lady is worth every penny of it.’
‘You’ve got your money — set her free.’
‘Count it first. I want to be certain that it’s all there.’
‘Oh, it is,’ said Tunnadine, removing the band from the first wad. ‘If you’re so keen to have the money, take it.’
He flung the banknotes at Whiteside’s face and distracted him long enough to get hold of the gun and turn the barrel away from him. They grappled violently. The politician was not accustomed to a brawl, however, and Whiteside slowly got the better of him. He swung his adversary around so that Tunnadine’s back was to the hedge along one side of the field. An ear-splitting shot rang out and the fight was over. The politician stiffened, let out a muffled cry then dropped to the ground where he lay squirming. Rhoda screamed and Imogen almost fainted. Whiteside calmly bent down and swept the money into the leather bag.