As Sir Hubert left Morton, a sleek Aston Martin drove down another driveway in Surrey towards an imposing red brick Tudor style home. Two men got out and rang the mansion front door bell. As the porch light was lit, Sir Duncan Arnas looked though the peep-hole in the door. Before him stood a tall elegant man holding and supporting a short and gnarled little man with a snow-white moustachio.
“Who are you, what do you want, it is late.” Arnas talked through a speaker.
“We are here on business to speak to you urgently.” The tall man said.
“I don’t know either of you, please leave or I’ll ring the police.”
The old man looked straight at the peep-hole glass and a raucous laugh came from his lips.
“Enough old fool, this is Sicily, you open now or we drive your car through your house. Bring your police, we have much to discuss.” The old man pointed to the large garage block by the house. The younger man dipped into his pocket and lifted up a bunch of keys.
Arnas unbolted the door and eventually led them into the hallway and then to his study.
“A Baronetcy as well as this, how much you spend on it?” The old man sat down heavily in a chair as he circled his arm to encompass the large house.
“You are well read, but do I know you?”
“You open the door to two strangers with the right password? We have not met Lord Duncan but we know one another though mutual friends. That is so eh? So my friend here will introduce us formally.”
The younger man bowed toward the elder,
“This is Don Curio, a senior member of the Commission.”
Arnas nodded and bade the younger man to sit also.
“What can I do for so august a visitor,” he asked.
“We need an address of a certain Turpin you will know of. A young man involved in things he should not be.”
“I will not ask why you want to see him but my dealings with you people are at an end. I have suffered a huge embarrassment with my involvement with your Russian colleagues. I do not wish to be involved any further.”
Don Curio took a piece of paper from his pocket and examined it carefully. He then pointed his finger at Arnas.
“You have been paid over a half a million pounds for your information, some of which you have used to buy this brick edifice. You will save us time, ultimately you know we will find this man, so be helpful my friend.” He turned to nod at the younger man who rose and withdrew a pistol, which he rapped quickly across Arras’s outstretched fingers.
“Morton Manor, it’s just off the Cotswold’s.”
“Near what town please, now.”
“Wotton, Wotton under Edge. I have never been there but it is in the area. It is an estate. Fields and woods and a manor house with gardens.”
“People.”
“I have no idea, probably this Turpin fellow and a Russian boy, and I have an idea the niece of Sir Hubert Pomeroy, and possibly one or two staff, cook or whatnot.”
“Is that important, the niece of Sir Pommy….?”
“No, not important, just a lady who works there.” Arnas never really knew why he said that. He was sure these two had it in for the inhabitants of Morton, he knew precisely what Carol had been, but he didn’t like Italians. Or precisely he didn’t like these two in spite of the money received from their Mafia organisation. He nodded to them both.
“You would be wise to take extreme care in that area.” He didn’t finish the sentence, he thought better of it, it was Royalty country up there and people were apt to be curious at strangers in and around the Cotswold’s, especially with foreign accents.
“And why may that be?” The younger man leaned forward; he had noted Arnas’s hesitation.
“The roads are generally small and hazardous, they twist and turn following the contours of the hills and valleys. Accidents are not a rare occurrence.”
“Thank you but accidents are our business.” The old man leaned forward, “ but we will be careful not to damage our car. Thank you Baron Arnas, you will not hear from us again. Neither will you speak to anyone, for we have this as our safeguard.” He nodded to the younger who withdrew a small tape recorder from his inside pocket.
“Then we will leave you, a King in his castle, a pity you have retired, your information was so useful to us.” The old man rose and led them back to the front door. Arnas let them out and bolted the door. He looked though his peep-hole and sighed as he watched the car drive away, but at least the odds were shortened in Morton’s favour, it would be one Italian hit-man against Pomeroy’s niece. Had he continued to look far down his driveway, he would have seen another vehicle stop outside his gates, patiently awaiting the arrival of the Aston Martin.
The morning at Morton bought a cool change with clear skies. Mrs. Mac refused to go any further than the Pub in the village.
“I’ll stay there for a few days, keep an eye out for foreign gentlemen.” She said. So Tinker drove her to the village after breakfast. He called in a few homes on his way back.
“I was getting worried, where on earth have you been?” Carol asked him on his return.
“You remember the Benson boys, Raulf?” Tinker had a glint in his eye.
“You reckoned they were the best in the business, they still doing it?”
“Not any more, come back to help old Benson with the pigs, and we have them over here for harvest on contract.”
“Well, what are you two talking about for heavens sake. What and who are the Bensons?” Carol interjected, “and what have they got to do with us at this particular moment in time, you didn’t take them out for a drink Tinker, I think you did.”
“We had a glass of cider for old times sake. Old man Benson insisted, did you never meet the twins Carol, last harvest, they built the haystacks.”
“Yes vaguely, so what.”
“I’ve extended their contract to cover this week. Raulf do you agree.”
“I wouldn’t like to see the twins get hurt Tinker, they use their hands, these Sicilians use daggers and pistols. Not a fair match. Anyhow it was all showmanship, this bouncing and flipping around the ring, no one gets hurt or there’d be no rematch.”
“Oh Raulf, they were the best tag team to hit the boards, champions both.”
“I honestly never knew what you saw in that wrestling game Tinker, you told me yourself it was pure entertainment.”
“True at my level it was. A bit of pocket money and a few sharp snatches and tackles, a throw here and there, all good fun and choreographed for the audience, you should have heard those grannies yell. But for the Bensons at their level, it was real time, championships were big money and that was taken seriously. ”
“I’ve never heard this before about you Tinker Transom, have I married a wrestler?”
“Indeed my love, in my forsaken twenties, Raulf was off at Uni if I remember, his head full of figures and punting on the river.”
“Well Tinker, what about the Bensons?” Raulf cut in.
“They’re coming over by the woodland wall this afternoon. Going to ground they said. Just them and a bit of wire.”
“And?”
“They are snaring up the paths. The lawn gets it web of wire this evening. Well fishing line for the lawn actually So you, Misha are banned from leaving the house or stables.”
“Stables?”
“That’s where you and Misha will be, I suggest Carol stays at the Gate house just in case they come that way.”
“Did you explain to the twins what they are likely to be coming up against?”
“Yes Raulf, I explained both to them and their Dad, funny thing the old man said something about 'hand is quicker than the eye', and they were OK to use the twelve strikes, whatever that meant, Carol might know.”
Carol winced,
“I think the commando’s had a set of twelve target points to aim for in unarmed combat, but it is not my forte. Was Old Man Benson in the army Tinker?”
“You know Carol, I believe he was and in the Commando’s at that, parachute behind the lines and cause merry hell, that sort of thing.”
As they talked Vincent’s car pulled up outside. Misha let him in and he sank down on the lounge.
“There are two giants hauling wire and god knows what over you woodland wall. There’s an old fellow with them. I stopped and they told me to mind my own business.”
“The Bensons, Tinkers contracted them to protect us.” Raulf shrugged.
“Against people like me, they won’t have a chance, get rid of them Raulf. Sir Hubert told me to get over here and sort these people out, as it’s mostly my fault you’ve been implicated. So like St. George, here I am.”
“Its good to have you Vincent, Tinker has planned to set up snares all over the place to restrict enemy movement, that’s what the Bensons are doing at present. Mrs. Mac is safely out the way in the village.” As Raulf spoke, the telephone rang and Misha answered it.
“Its Mrs. Mac Raulf, she is looking out of her bedroom above the pub, two cars have driven up and a young dark haired swarthy man has entered the public bar.
“How many in the cars?” Vincent asked quickly. Misha relayed his question.
“She thinks four in all and an elderly man. White moustache, she will pop downstairs to see what they want.”
“Its them, right Tinker come with me, where are Raulf and Misha staying?”
“I suggest the stables and Carol to the Gate house.” Said Tinker.
“Good, then you and I will pop along to see your giants at work. I think our adversaries will try tonight, in the meantime Raulf stay close to the telephone please.”
Vincent went out and drove his car into the stables out of sight. He and Tinker then walked over the lawn towards the woodland. It was lunchtime so Raulf and Misha went to the kitchen to make and to pack sandwiches for now and the evening.
Misha went upstairs to the attic to fetch the shotgun. They then shuttered the house.
There was a knock on the door and one of the twins came in.
“Master Raulf you make sure this is locked, could have been one of them undesirables Tinker told us about. I’m here to do some fishing lining.”
“Tinker and Mr. Vincent were on their way to see you Eric”
“And so they did, you’re in the stables, you and the lad, now don’t you fuss. Use that shotgun only if absolutely necessary. Noise gives you position away. Right off you both go, Mr. Vincent has spoke as to what he wants done.”
Raulf picked up a pack of sandwiches and the telephone rang it was Mrs. Mac. Eric picked it up in his mighty paw.
“Ah its you Mrs. Mac going to miss the party.” He guffawed. “Right, right I will, bye now. No they’ll be safely tucked away. Where they headed, are they. Ordered lunch so they’ll be there sometime. Mrs. Mac you get our Tricia to ply ‘em with the cider, with their meal like. Did they, well tell Tricia if they asks her that there’s just the two in the house as far as she knows. Cos Carol and Tinker always go to Bath today shopping. Not to much talking all at once, just drop it in nice and lightly like.”
Raulf turned to Misha and shrugged,
“I’m beginning to believe we don’t live here any more, and…”
“Scat now,” Eric put the phone down and pointed to the door.
“And I’m not going to argue with Eric.”
Misha smiled and went to the study to collect the box of cartridges.
“Just in case.” He said as he smiled to Eric. Side by side they looked like David and Goliath.
“Just don’t point that thing at us and keep your heads down after sunset. No lights or chatting. You hear we want to hear the tiny footsteps of little nasties”
“They are Sicilian and dangerous Eric, make no mistake. They will carry pistols and perhaps rifles, certainly knives. Be careful.”
“Terry and I will be fine, it’s that little Mr. Vincent who we worry about, he’s not used to the ways of the world, so as we go along with our wire he says, Oh is that so, fancy we use a hand held one for bad vendettas. We been showing him the snares.”
“On the ground.”
“On the everywhere, some hanging. You want to catch fish in a hurry, your poacher uses a net.”
Raulf bade him goodbye and he and Misha headed for the mezzanine floor in the stable block. There were three blocks so they chose the one closest to the house. Raulf opened the doors and phoned Eric.
“Stable block closest to house, right you are Master Raulf, I’ll tell the troops.”