The Dali Diaries (The Ballashiels Mysteries Book 2) Page 19

‘I really hope you find her, Ratty,’ said Ruby. ‘It would be lovely to resolve that hole in your heart after all those years. Judging by the way you turned out, if she’s still alive I’ll bet she has a wonderful personality.’

  ‘Beautifully benevolent of you to say so. And what about you, Patient chappy?’

  ‘Perhaps I will catch up with you at Stiperstones in a day or two, Ratty,’ he replied. ‘I am intrigued by this wind tunnel. I think I would like to experience the feeling of raw flight.’

  ‘Always room for one more,’ offered Ruby. ‘And Ratty, be careful on your way home.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s nothing. It’s just something that Rocco said.

  ‘Rocco?’ asked the Patient.

  ‘Rocco Strauss. He’s a scientist from the European Space Agency. Though quite why a space agency would employ someone like him for a serious job is anyone’s guess. The man’s one pepper pot short of a picnic. A complete basket case. Last week Rocco crashed his car into Charlie’s van. Apparently, the brakes had been cut on Rocco’s car, and he couldn’t stop in time. He seems to think the old man at the museum is behind it. So be careful, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Gosh. Someone cut the brakes on my Land Rover, too,’ said Ratty.

  ‘Oh no, really? That’s terrible, Ratty,’ she said, suddenly losing her former bravado.

  ‘I’m sensing a pattern,’ the aristocrat continued. ‘But why would the old fellow commit such dastardly beastliness?’

  ‘Because Rocco was researching the effects of Project Keo,’ Ruby replied. ‘Looking for a message from the future saying that a time capsule had arrived, or will arrive, safely. All total nonsense, of course, but the old man seems to have some kind of obsession with Keo.’

  ‘Keo?’ asked the Patient.

  ‘Yes. It’s the name of the satellite that’s about to be launched,’ Ruby explained. ‘It contains a time capsule destined to fall to earth in fifty thousand years. And inside the capsule there’s apparently a message asking for a confirmation to be sent back in time to show that it has been safely received.’

  ‘What was written on the placeholder of the missing photograph from 1937, Ratty?’ asked the Patient.

  ‘Keo,’ Ratty replied.

  ‘Really?’ asked Ruby. ‘So there was a photo from all those years ago labelled “Keo”, but we don’t know what the picture was? Well you may wish to know that Rocco found a painting in a cave which appears to be the work of Dalí. It dates from around 1937 and also features the word “Keo”.’

  ‘How can a twenty-first-century satellite have been known about in the Thirties?’ asked Ratty.

  ‘It is possible,’ said the Patient, ‘that the satellite was named after something from that time, but it is also possible,’ he continued in a softer tone that caused the others to lean in towards him, ‘that the message from the future confirming receipt of the Keo time capsule was received after all. However, it was sent to the wrong era and was seen by Dalí and your grandmother, instead of by Rocco and his friends in the following century.’

  ‘That’s what Rocco thought,’ said Ruby. ‘There’s circumstantial evidence to back it up, but nothing solid enough to build a coherent argument. So, personally, I find it extremely doubtful, and even if it did happen, I can’t see what effect it would have on anything.’

  ‘Dalí didn’t write about any such incident in his published diaries, but we found unpublished sections of the manuscript which may shed light on the matter,’ explained the Patient. ‘Regrettably the pages were taken from us before we could study them.’

  ‘All I know is that Granny went a little potty after travelling with Dalí that year. Cancelled her trip to Germany and went straight home to do that locked room thingy.’

  ‘What trip to Germany?’ asked the Patient.

  ‘Oh, it was nothing significant. Just something she blabbered on about in her diary. She’d been corresponding with her friend in Germany, one of the Mitford sisters. Unity, was it? The girl was infatuated with Hitler, though Unity’s initial motivation appears to have been an attempt to get one up over her sister who married that blighter Sir Oswald.’

  ‘Mosley?’ asked the Patient. ‘Leader of the British Union of Fascists?’

  ‘Indeed,’ replied Ratty. ‘Anyway, Hitler had started seeing Eva Braun, and Unity was getting rather miffed about the whole affair. Eva was similarly frustrated at the Führer’s divided attention, and won him back by attempting to pop her cork. Unity then saw that as the necessary step to winning the oily fellow back again, and wrote to Granny about her plans. Needless to say, Granny was horrified. Never a fan of chaps with insipid moustaches anyway, Granny wanted to persuade Unity to end the relationship with Hitler and get out of Germany, but she couldn’t put that kind of message in writing so she planned to visit Unity in person. Then something happened when she was with Dalí and she was never the same again. And, of course, that event also had some effect on Mother and might have had something to do with her disappearance.’

  ‘We could try to get those Dalí diaries out of the museum,’ suggested Ruby. ‘Perhaps they will tell us what this old guy is trying to do? He spoke very strangely about life. He really gives me the creeps. And, if I’m honest, I’m even a bit worried about Charlie being under his spell. But we have to find a legitimate way to obtain them. I won’t consider breaking in to that place.’

  ‘It is not necessary to break in,’ said the Patient. ‘It is sufficient to enter legitimately and to remain there until others have left. I will accompany you, if you will permit me. I know where the documents are kept. If they have been returned to their proper place it will be a simple enough task to retrieve them.’

  ‘Rocco found a place to hide in the museum,’ said Ruby. ‘He hid behind the Mae West installation. Maybe we could conceal ourselves there, too?’

  ‘I think it is you who must be careful,’ said Ratty, standing up to go.

  ‘We’ll keep you posted if we find anything,’ said Ruby.

  Ratty bade them farewell and stepped outside. The narrow streets were smoky with the exhausts of diesel cars. He glanced around for a taxi to take him to the high-speed rail terminal. Paris by morning. London by tomorrow lunchtime. Home for tea with Mother. His recent joie de vivre returned, and the light-headed effect almost got him run over. The hoot of a car horn brought him to his senses and he walked quickly in the direction of the nearest taxi rank on the opposite side of the road where a single cab was waiting with its engine running. He squeezed his long frame into the back seat and closed the door, wondering if his knowledge of classical Spanish would be sufficient for a Catalan taxi driver to understand where he wanted to go, hoping he would manage to avoid having to make a noise like a train.

  The central locking clicked shut as he fiddled with his seat belt. Before he could attempt to direct the driver to the station, the car pulled away sharply and an unwelcome face turned to him from the front seat.

  ‘Well, well, young man.’

  Ratty’s dreams evaporated. ‘Are you familiar with the expression that relates to a bad penny, constable?’

  ‘Indeed I am, Justin. And in many respects it could be applied in the opposite direction. From my point of view you’re causing me more trouble than you’re worth.’

  ‘I don’t suppose I could ask you to drop me at the station, old chap?’

  ‘I don’t suppose you could, no.’

  ‘Look,’ said Ratty, ‘whatever that old man is paying you, I’ll halve it.’

  ‘Not a question of money, young man. Some things in life are more important than a bunch of readies in your hand.’

  ‘I just don’t understand why you have it in for me, constable.’

  ‘When I said it was nothing personal, I meant it. But you are uniquely placed to threaten the goals of our organisation. Your family has always been at the centre of it, and when your curiosity finally got the better of you and you opened that forbidden room in your house, that’s when we all ha
d to spring into action.’

  ‘But that room was sealed in 1937. What does it have to do with you?’

  ‘You ignored the warnings that your grandmother wrote, Justin. She said there would be dire consequences if anyone had the temerity to break in to it. And dire consequences there were indeed, as soon as your mother found a duplicate key in the servants’ kitchen and indulged her own curiosity in 1975. Just look at what a poor choice she made that day. Having to give up everything she loved, including her only son, all because she ignored your grandmother’s warnings. We all sprang into action at that moment, just as we did when you followed in her footsteps. Of course, it took a little more effort to regroup this time, what with the core team either being in jail on those trumped-up charges or dead, but the old man has connections everywhere and pulled strings at the highest level.’

  ‘So it wasn’t you who put the servants in jail?’

  ‘Of course not. What influence does a village bobby have over the criminal justice system? Not a lot, that’s what. It took your father’s old school network to achieve their incarceration on the basis of his gut feeling that something was wrong. Couldn’t happen today, of course. The old boy networks just aren’t strong enough. Too many busybodies poking their noses in looking for trifling details like evidence. But back in the Seventies it was easy to manipulate the system when you’d been at school with the right people. Worked a treat for Lord Lucan, didn’t it?’

  ‘Father never mentioned this to me.’

  ‘You were young. He didn’t want to concern you with it. If only you had kept your nose clean, boy. There was no need for you to get involved in this. If you’d left that room sealed, as your grandmother intended, you would be safe now. Ditto your mother, of course.’

  ‘What are you planning to do with me this time?’

  ‘The boss has had enough of your meddling, young man. He’s looking for a permanent solution to the Ballashiels problem.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound particularly agreeable.’

  ‘It isn’t, Justin. It isn’t.’

  Ratty sat despondently in the back of the car while the constable drove him out of the city centre. He considered whether he might be able to grab Stuart’s neck from behind and throttle him before he could reach for his gun, but such an attack seemed excessively unsportsmanlike for his tastes and would have brought with it the possibility of injuring third parties as the car lost control.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ Ratty asked.

  ‘Won’t be long now. Just heading for the coast. Should be there in twenty minutes or thereabouts.’

  ‘Any chance you could drop me off before we get there?’

  ‘Don’t you like the beach, young man?’

  ‘Tend to feel seasick just from looking at the sand. Prefer not to go near the wet stuff, if at all possible.’

  ‘Well now, that is a shame, isn’t it?’

  ‘I do hope you’re not expecting me to get my feet wet.’

  Constable Stuart said nothing and continued to drive in an unhurried manner towards the coast. Ratty tried to recall the basic martial arts moves he had learned the previous year, and hoped they would be sufficient to extricate him from the sticky situation in which he expected to be mired as soon as they stopped. If only he hadn’t removed the bulletproof tiles from his jacket.

  Stuart turned onto a bumpy track between two fields, and pulled up in a sandy car park behind the dunes. There were no other cars present.

  ‘This ought to be far enough.’

  ‘Jolly good. Now, look old fellow, perhaps we can discuss the rather delicate matter of your motivation?’

  ‘Please step out of the car, young man.’

  ‘Of course. But –’

  ‘No time for buts, Justin. Come along.’

  Stuart opened Ratty’s door for him and the aristocrat climbed out, watching the constable closely.

  ‘This is it, then? You’re going to do me in amongst the sand dunes?’

  Stuart closed the door and invited Ratty away from the vehicle.

  ‘Do you in? That sounds rather melodramatic in my opinion. I’m not going to harm you. Please relax your fists.’

  Ratty looked at his hands and realised he had subconsciously screwed them up into tight balls ready to hurl at the constable’s face the moment any sign of trouble kicked off. He flexed his fingers and stepped back from the man, eyeing him suspiciously.

  ‘The car is bugged, Justin, and there are operatives around Figueres. I had to make sure we got away before coming clean to you.’

  ‘Coming clean?’

  ‘There’s something I haven’t yet told you, young man. Many years ago, your father set up a trust fund.’

  ‘Father had some money left? Blimey. He kept that quiet. How much have I got?’

  ‘The fund wasn’t set up for you. It was for your protection. It pays my wages and expenses and nothing else.’

  ‘So we were right.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Patient chappy and myself speculated this exact possibility. Well, it was mostly Patient chappy who came up with the theory.’

  ‘Anyway, your father employed me to look after you for as long as I am physically able to do so. I am a man of my word, and I gave your father my word and now I am honouring it. I must admit I failed in my duty last year when you went off into Central America without a word to anyone, and I was mightily relieved when you made it home safely after your adventures.’

  ‘So why did you take those photos and diary manuscripts off us at the museum and then lock us in the turret?’

  ‘Ever heard of a double agent, Justin?’

  ‘Crikey. How exciting.’

  ‘I had to act as if I was working on behalf of the old man while I was in his building. Truth is, he’s up to no good, but for the life of me I can’t put my finger on what it is he wants to achieve or why he seems to think you’re such a thorn in his side. I know he has some kind of resentment for you and your mother, but he’s positively vicious when he speaks of your grandmother. To him she’s the Antichrist. Oddly enough, he seems to hold Dalí himself in an equally contemptuous regard. I was hoping you’d be able to get to the bottom of it, to be frank.’

  Ratty was overcome with relief, and only just managed to prevent himself from giving the constable a hug, which he knew would have been hugely inappropriate from a social perspective. He settled instead for a modest shake of the hand, signifying their shared values.

  ‘What did you do with those photos and diaries you took from us, constable?’

  ‘Unfortunately I had to return them to the Centre for Dalínian Studies. Now that he knows precisely what you’re after, the boss had them secured in a safe.’

  ‘Golly, how inconvenient.’

  ‘But not before I was able to make copies.’

  Ratty threw his arms around the policeman and squeezed him tightly, before stepping back and coughing with embarrassment.

  ‘Terribly sorry, old chestnut. Don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Not to worry, Justin. I understand. The stress and uncertainty you’ve been through are enough to give anyone a queer turn.’

  ‘Where are the copies, constable?’

  ‘Well, now. That’s the thing. You see, I had no choice but to keep them in the museum. Couldn’t risk walking out with them.’

  ‘Can we pop in and get them?’

  ‘We? The old man thinks I’ve bumped you off. You have to remain hidden otherwise I’ll have some explaining to do.’

  ‘Of course. And did I point out that I’m rather grateful to you for not having bumped me off?’

  ‘I think such gratitude is implicit in your demeanour, young man.’

  ‘Is it? Jolly good. Just wanted to be sure.’

  ‘I’ll retrieve the copies this evening. Where will you be staying?’

  ‘I wasn’t planning to stay, actually. Since all that stuff about Mother came to the fore, I thought I should return to Stiperstones in case she’s trying to find me. Y
ou could give the copies to Ruby and the Patient, perhaps?’

  ‘Your friends? Ah, now that might be a challenge.’

  ‘A challenge?’

  ‘Do you remember Grant, the butler?’

  ‘Grant? Of course. Made me a spot-on cuppa this morning.’

  ‘Yes, well now that he’s out of prison the old man has been using him for various unsavoury tasks. He has sent him to take care of your friends in the same way that he sent me to deal with you. I rather fear it might be too late for them.’

  ‘But couldn’t you have done something, constable?’

  ‘I was charged by your father with your protection above all others. My duty to your safety had to come first.’

  ‘Hang my safety, man! Ruby and the Patient are all I have! They’re the only things that matter in the world to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of being saved at their expense.’

  Ratty clenched his head in his hands and walked in tight circles of distress.

  ‘I am sorry. It is a cruel and imperfect world. We can only play our small part and try to make the best of it.’

  ‘But we must do something for them, constable. That sweaty butler always had a shifty look in his eye. I don’t trust him further than I can throw him, and that isn’t very far.’

  ‘I will go and find them, but I have to go alone. If you speak inside the car, the old man will know I have double-crossed him. If you’re seen alive in Figueres, the same problem will apply. You must wait here.’

  ‘On this ghastly beach? It’s a nature reserve. There’s not even a bar. Where’s a chap supposed to get a gin and tonic?’

  ‘Keep out of trouble, young Justin. I’ll see what I can do about your friends, but don’t get your hopes up. I can’t be responsible for whatever Grant may already have done.’

  Ratty waved the constable off, and walked across the baking dunes to the beach. It was deserted save for a few naked sunbathers, and he struggled to find somewhere to look as he sashayed across the sand towards the buildings he could see in the distance.

  After half an hour walking he sauntered into a beach bar and ordered a gin and tonic. Just a few sips were adequate to settle his nerves after the shocking experiences he had been through. After all, he told himself, trying to blot out the horrors from his mind with a little solitary humour, it wasn’t every day that he had to walk past brazen naturists.