Silver Betrayal Read online

  Chapter 1

  Julie Collins turned off the lights and the van’s engine, climbed out of the cab, checked the time on her mobile phone, and let out a low growl of frustration when she saw it was now half-past four in the morning. She should have left home twenty minutes earlier and be singing along to the radio as she drove on the A303 to London. Instead, she was standing next to her vehicle in the dark, outside her cottage, on a rutted farm track in Dorset, waiting for her dogs to return from wherever they had run off to.

  A layer of frost shimmered over the van’s red paintwork in the moonlight, but her admiration for the beauty of nature had long been replaced with annoyance at her dogs’ behaviour. Julie had turned the engine and the heaters on when she let the dogs out of her cottage, so the windscreen and the wing mirrors were clear, and the van was ready to go.

  They had a morning routine, established after three years of early starts once or twice a week, and she couldn’t understand why the dogs had decided to change their habits on this particular day. Normally she would be woken up by the alarm, showered, dressed, and downstairs for breakfast in less than ten minutes. Kettle on, dogs out, van engine on, back inside for final visit to the toilet. Front door locked, coffee and coat in the van, dogs in their travel harnesses, and off they went.

  Twenty-two minutes of well-timed precision was a successful start to the day.

  Twenty-two minutes of waiting around for her bloody dogs to come home was a bad start to the day.

  Julie shivered, and pulled her coat off the passenger seat, shoving her arms in and wrapping them around her body in a solo hug. Underneath it she wore a light sleeveless red top, which would be ideal for the anticipated hot and sunny May day ahead, and for the journey, but was no match for the present chill in the air outside. Her mood was not improved when she tugged up the zip of the dark blue parka, and her long brown hair became entangled. It took a little while to pull her hair free. Cursing her wayward dogs, Julie took a deep breath, gathered up her hair into a make-shift pony tail, twisted it a couple of times, and shoved it neatly down the neck of the parka, before doing the zip back up without incident.

  She dug her hands deep into the coat’s pockets and wondered if she should run back indoors and retrieve a pair of gloves. Where had she stored them? She thought she had seen them in the chest of drawers, just inside the front door of her cottage. Wriggling her fingers, she felt the smooth cold hard shell of her phone. Pulling it out, she saw the time display showed 4.37am. Julie stamped her feet, the noise of her boots echoing in the still air. If her bloody dogs didn’t come back soon there would be no point in leaving for the antiques fair. All of the stands would have been taken by other dealers, and the two days she had worked sorting antiques suitable for selling at this fair would have been a waste of time. Julie had been a regular at the market in London for over twenty years, and had built up a decent following of buyers, guaranteeing a successful day even in these challenging financial times in the antiques trade. She started to text her friend Terri to ask if she could save her place. Suddenly the early morning quiet was interrupted by a rustling sound. Temporarily blinded by the brightness of her phone, she peered unseeingly into the dark and called ‘Freddy! Bella!’

  All Julie could see was the vague shapes of the hedges lining the track. She strained to hear the sound again. Nothing. It was so quiet she felt a little disorientated. An owl hooted nearby and made her jump.

  Laughing nervously, she reached into the cab of her van and took another swig of coffee from the travel mug. She continued with the text to Terri but let out a groan of annoyance as she watched her phone go dead. Oh well, she’d just have to text Terri later, either that or accept that she would lose her place at the fair and go back to bed. She reached over and plugged her phone in to charge.

  She called for the dogs again, and was surprised to hear a note of fear in her voice. Julie could always rely on her two Labradors, a brother and sister, to be close by. She had re-homed them from the local animal rescue centre when they were only twelve weeks old, and both dogs were usually ready and waiting next to the van when she finished locking up her cottage. They were chocolate Labradors, and like many in the breed they were notorious for being soppy and disobedient, but neither had ever disappeared like this before. Julie could not imagine what had happened to them. There were no busy roads nearby for them to be picked up by a stranger, or run over and killed or badly injured. If they were lumbering after a deer or rabbit she would have heard them because Freddy always let out excited ‘yips’ when he picked up a scent, ensuring that whatever was intended as prey had plenty of warning to escape. If one or both of them were trapped on the wrong side of a fence in the fields somewhere, they would have loudly answered her calls and whistles in their eagerness to be rescued.

  She decided to go back into the cottage to re-fill the travel mug with coffee, and check that the blimmin’ dogs hadn’t snuck back in somehow. She would be furious with them if they were snuggled up together on her bed. They had done that once before when the weather was particularly bad, making a disgusting mess on her beautiful Indulgence White Kelly Hoppen bed sheets. She had been cross with them, not only because of the muddy sheets, but also because they knew they were not allowed upstairs under any circumstances. Part of her hoped they had broken the rules again, because at least she would know they were safe.

  Julie gave the dogs one more chance. ‘Freddy! Bella! Come bloody here!’

  Silence.

  She had no close neighbours. Julie’s cottage was situated one mile along a track, which ended just a few metres past the end of her garden, and led into a private country estate, although no one ever accessed it that way. The estate had a separate grand entrance half a mile along the main road, complete with two stone gatehouses linked by an archway into a typical sweeping driveway revealing the stunning parkland as it wove its way to the big stately home at the end. The large metal gates beyond Julie’s cottage were functional rather than beautiful, and securely locked. Due to the lack of dwellings nearby, there was no light pollution, although to the east of the track she could look over several hundred acres of woodland and parkland up to the haze of street lights a few miles away in the market town of Shaftesbury, high on a hill. To the west there was nothing but grassy fields grazed by dairy and beef cows. At the southern end of the track, where it met a main road, was a pair of semi-detached cottages on one side and a large Victorian house opposite them where a woman ran a bed and breakfast business. Alongside the cottages was an enormous mansion, hidden from view by the high walls which surrounded it, and state of the art security preventing even the most determined criminals from breaking in. Julie had heard rumours in the town that the occupant of the mansion was a reclusive IT billionaire, who only came and went in a private helicopter or a blacked-out Range Rover.

  Julie realised that she had been waiting for so long that the moon was no longer bright, as dawn was trying to make an appearance over the horizon. Looking for two chocolate coloured dogs was difficult in these conditions, but she wondered why she couldn’t hear them either. They were noisy creatures, always snuffling along with their noses to the ground, or stopping to have mini-play fights. Both were incapable of moving in a straight line on their own, but were excellent on the lead whenever she took them for rambles in the Dorset countryside. Freddy would walk on her left, Bella on her right.

  She knew that even if it was charged up the torch on her phone would be inadequate for a proper search of the fields, and she had no idea where her big heavy-duty torch was, the one she used in the depths of winter when she rarely saw her cottage in daylight for days on end. She’d probably find that torch when she found her gloves.

  She jumped again at the noise of the cockerel, Stanley, a Wh
ite Sussex, welcoming the morning from inside the chicken run on the other side of her cottage.

  A rustle in the bushes across the lane drew her across to peer into the murk to see if it was one or both of her dogs.

  A blow to the back of her head brought about a different type of darkness.

  Chapter 2

  ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here at this time?’ the Chief hissed. ‘You are twenty-five minutes late!’ She opened one of the rear doors and stared at the empty grey seats of the Range Rover. ‘I do not believe this. Where the hell are the Walsall brothers?’

  The driver had always been a little scared of the attractive, small thin woman who was now peering fiercely through the window at him, although he would never admit it, even on his deathbed. As she vented the full force of her displeasure at him, her hands on her skinny hips, her dark eyes boring into him, and a look of anger mixed with exasperation in place of the usually serene expression on her face, he was very scared of her. Her greeting was so unexpected that for a brief moment he wondered if she was talking to the right person, and was tempted to explain who he was, even though they had been working together for a number of years.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded, as she slammed the door shut, abandoning any attempt at keeping noise to a minimum.

  A shiver ran over his body, and he could feel sweat forming in his armpits as it dawned on him this was not a case of mistaken identity: something had gone seriously wrong. Hurriedly, he stumbled over his words as he tried to explain what had happened that morning. ‘Um, but, I don’t understand why you think I should have brought those boys here? I got a message to leave them in our old drop-off point in the woods.’ He could tell by the Chief’s expression this was news to her, and it was not good. Bravely he carried on, his confidence growing as he told his side of the story. ‘You know, the one we used before that girl built her posh new house up there. After I dropped the Walsall brothers off, I was told to come here, via Gillingham, and pick up the female who was driven down yesterday.’

  The Chief threw her hands to her head, the red varnish on her nails clearly visible as she clutched at clumps of dark brown hair, causing the skin on her cheeks and forehead to have the appearance of a badly created facelift. She drew in a deep breath, before slowly and noisily letting it out, smoothing the waves of her hair with the palms of her hands as she did so, and allowing the natural hint of wrinkles and loose skin on the face of a woman well into her thirties to re-form. Carefully bringing her hands down to her sides, she looked at the driver, and said in a quiet voice.

  ‘What is it that you are telling me? Where is this message? Who told you, and how? We haven’t used that drop-off point for at least seven years, and for very good reasons. Why on earth would we start using it now? And what female are you meant to be collecting? Nobody was brought here yesterday. Nobody has been here for weeks.’

  The driver was starting to get annoyed at her tone. He was an experienced driver, highly regarded in his field, learning the specialist skills on the job when he joined the company. He had been safely transporting humans and antiques for more years than this young woman had been alive. What was she, twelve years old? Just as he was starting to build up a head of steam and tell her what he thought of her, common sense kicked in. He knew he was being unfair. The Chief was very good at her job, and up until today he had no complaints about her. He was aware that far from being an inexperienced school girl, she had many years working for the company under her belt, during which she had more than proved herself a worthy colleague. And wasn’t there a big fuss about her fortieth birthday recently? The driver didn’t tend to get involved in socialising at work. He had his daughter-in-law and grandchildren to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, and his mates down the pub. When he wasn’t working he joined them on trips around the country following his home football team, Pompey. They had even been abroad for a few international games, when the team competed in the UEFA Cup as it was then, in 2008-9. He lived on his own, and had done since his wife of thirty years had left him seventeen years ago. He wasn’t interested in any team-building exercises, or swapping touchy-feely exchanges with his fellow work colleagues. On the days he was working he worked long hours, mostly on his own, he was skilled at his job, and if something had gone wrong in this instance then it wasn’t a cock-up of his making. He felt at a disadvantage cooped up in the driver’s seat, and briefly contemplated unbuckling his seat belt and getting out so he could use his six foot two inch frame to tower over her, but something about her stance made him worry he could be exposing himself to physical harm in vulnerable places if he stood in front of her. He decided to stay where he was, for the time being, and resorted to using a condescending tone.

  ‘Look, love, I am just following orders. I got one of those automated voicemails about an hour ago, which told me to leave my parcel by the lake, and come here via Gillingham.’

  The Chief froze as the penny dropped. She knew what had happened, and was dumbfounded that an experienced employee could have fallen for the deception. She studied his face, wondering if he had deliberately circumnavigated their strict protocols. But she didn’t think he had a duplicitous look; rather he had one of too much self-importance. If he was guilty, it should have been obvious to him that he had been found out, in which case she could not think of a reason why he would now be sitting in front of her, weakly protesting he had only been following orders. Instead he would be putting his foot down on the accelerator of the powerful car he was driving, and disappearing into the safety of the new identity their rival business would have established for him. They worked in a specialist field, full of secrecy and split-second timing. There was no room for traitors or double-agents. Every employee’s life was at varying degrees of risk. It was rare, but not without precedent, for somebody to choose to leave the company and work for another in the same business. For those people, their life expectancy was numbered in weeks.

  The Chief thought it unlikely this man, who had been a loyal and valued member of the company for all of his working life, would decide to change sides. However, she noted he was refusing to drop eye contact. In an icy tone she said ‘Tell me exactly what the voice told you. Please be precise.’

  The driver shivered again as his self-assurance deserted him, and finally he changed the direction of his gaze, choosing a neutral spot on the windscreen in front of him. How could such a small young woman project such menace? His expression changed again as the possibility of what could have happened to the two brothers he had left alone in the woods dawned on him. He felt incredibly stupid, and afraid both for their lives and for his future.

  He closed his eyes, and recited “Black Knight to Black Rover, twin blue parcel to be delivered to fishponds, yesterday’s pink cargo to be collected from BB via Gill.”. Opening his eyes and meeting hers, he said in as strong a voice as he could manage ‘Someone pressed the wrong button, didn’t they?’ He relaxed a little, relieved he could move the blame onto somebody else. The respite was brief.

  ‘I doubt it,’ the Chief said witheringly, before banging the car bonnet with her hand as she ran around the front of the car.

  ‘Hey don’t do that, you’ll leave a dent!’

  She jumped into the passenger seat, ignoring his remonstrations, and continued ‘I doubt very much that is what happened. And I am surprised that somebody with your experience and seniority in the company would trot out such a lame excuse for your actions so far this morning.’

  ‘If not that, then what else could have happened?’

  ‘Think about it’ she snapped, before getting busy with her phone.

  As he was replaying the words of the message in his head, he could have kicked himself for not noticing when he first heard them that they were in a defunct code. He had been so busy checking that he was on the correct road out of the notorious maze known locally as ‘The Donheads’, approximately thirty minutes away from his present location, that he didn’t pay proper attention when the screen on the dashboar
d lit up to indicate an incoming message. At the time he didn’t want his concentration to be interrupted, and now he knew he had made a rookie mistake by not focussing properly on the instructions as they were coming through. He also knew he was one of the best drivers in the business. It took time and experience to form and then execute a plan such as the one he had been carrying out in the early hours of the morning. It was his job to retrieve the precious goods the company dealt in, and deliver them safely. At the time the message came in he had been struggling with the orientation of the country lanes, and his initial reaction was frustration because he did not appreciate having his careful strategy altered with no warning, and probably by some wet-behind-the-ears University graduate fresh out of academia and keen to show old-timers like him how they should be doing things. Now, sitting behind the wheel of the stationary car with the angry woman next to him, he knew he should have set his ego to one side, and spotted instantly that he was being set up. His status in the company would take a knock after this episode, if he was still in a job.

  He realised the Chief was staring at him in disbelief as she held her phone to her ear. She finished the call she was making, and began issuing more instructions at him. ‘What are you waiting for? Quickly, get back to those woods, and let’s hope the brothers are still there. I’ll phone control to see if they are aware of what is going on, and get them to call-up the reinforcements. If they have fooled you God knows who else they have tricked.’ She glanced up the track. ‘Luckily Ms Collins hasn’t left for work yet, or we’d have been spotted standing out here washing our dirty linen in public.’

  The driver spun the Range Rover around, and shot out onto the main road without any regard for oncoming traffic. Fortunately the road was quiet at that time of the morning, and he was able to floor the accelerator, and put his advanced driving skills into practice as he safely negotiated the curves and bends of the country lanes. He raced around the southern perimeter of the estate, past the elaborate but redundant main entrance, before taking the first left, and then left again into lanes only wide enough for one vehicle at a time, and then swiftly turning off the tarmac and onto the even narrower earthy track through the trees. He made no attempt to dodge would-be followers, sure that any would have been easily spotted by now, as he put the car’s suspension through a rigorous testing, and drove at speed back to the place he had left the brothers.