'Bryant said that it was nowhere near where the royal
party is being held . . . Did he just say that to keep me away
from there or was he telling the truth?'
Sarah Milek looked at him suspiciously.
'I am not trying to find out how to get at Bryant, I promise you,' said Avedissian.
'Bryant wasn't lying. The party is not even in the same
county.'
Avedissian felt a sense of hopelessness and of time running
out. He asked Sarah Milek for a phone number so that he
could make contact if he came up with anything else.
'You can have mine,' she replied. 'I can't give you
Bryant's.'
Avedissian looked at his watch and made a face. Too late,'
he murmured.
'For what?'
‘
To rent a car.'
Sarah Milek considered for a moment before holding out her hand and dropping her car keys into Avedissian's palm.
'But you . . .'
'I can get a taxi. Bring it back when you've finished.'
Avedissian was taken aback. He stood there with a puzzled
expression on his face while Sarah Milek walked away. She
turned and said, 'Call it conscience.'
Avedissian returned to the flat and told Kathleen and her
brother of his failure to convince Bryant of an imminent
IRA
strike.
'At least you warned him,' said Kathleen. 'Surely he'll tighten security anyway?'
'Maybe,' whispered Avedissian, pacing up and down in frustration. 'It's just that I can't get it out of my mind that it's
the royal birthday party that Kell's going to hit.'
'Royal birthday party?'
Avedissian told them about the
Blue Peter
party and how it
seemed to fit in with what Kell had said.
'I agree,' said O'Neill.
The trouble is that the party is to be nowhere near
Valham, not even in the same county.'
'We found out that Valham is a village in Norfolk,' said
Kathleen.
'Me too. Anything else?'
Kathleen shook her head and said, 'No, it seems to be a
small village, nothing else.'
'So why would Kell keep a map of a Norfolk village?'
Silence fell on the room.
‘
Time is running out. I think we should go there,' said
Avedissian. 'Sarah Milek loaned me her car.'
'It's better than just sitting around,' said O'Neill.
'And there's always the chance that we might see the reason
for Kell's interest as soon as we get there,' added Kathleen.
'When do we leave?'
'First light,’ said Avedissian, looking out the window at the
rain that had started to fall.
They set off from the flat at five-thirty. The rain of the
previous evening had passed and it was a beautifully clear morning with the air so still that the sound of milk bottles
being delivered seemed uncommonly loud. They headed
north on the M1 and made good time, sitting in the outside
lane for most of the way until they reached Cambridge,
where they stopped to snatch a quick breakfast. They then veered north-west into Norfolk.
The roads narrowed with the passing of the miles and the
hedgerows grew ever more anxious to encroach upon their
right of way.
'Are you sure this is the right road?' asked Kathleen, as
they were forced to slow to a crawl on what seemed like little
more than a farm track.
'It's about a mile and a half along here,' said O'Neill, his
finger tracing their route on Kell's map.
'If you say so,' said Kathleen, unconvinced.
Avedissian stopped the car as they came to a rotting
wooden sign-board that was almost totally obscured by
foliage. 'What does that say?' he asked O'Neill, who was in a
better position to see.
'Valham,' replied O'Neill.
The lane opened out to reveal a picture post-card scene, a
cluster of cottages that looked as if they had been there since
the beginning of time, but there was a small church at the end
of the cluster whose crumbling tower proclaimed its Norman
origins.
'One shop,' said Kathleen as they crawled past.
'And a pub,' added O'Neill as they came to an inn beneath
the trees called the Mouse and Spade.
'Everything you need,' said Avedissian.
'It's beautiful,' said Kathleen.
'So what did Kell see in it?'
'Let's ask questions,' said Avedissian. 'It's too early for the
pub. Martin, you try the shop. We'll try the church.'
'What are we looking for?'
'Anything that Kell might see as a target. Play it by ear.'
Avedissian and Kathleen walked towards the church and entered its precincts through a small iron gate. Their feet scrunched on the gravel and they had to duck down to clear
the lower branches of a yew tree that possibly pre-dated the
building itself. Gravestones competed in a losing battle with
weeds and moss. They had been forced to retreat in disarray
to the shadow of the church itself,
Avedissian turned the black handle on the church door and pushed it open. They went inside to be met with the
smell of dusty hymn books and threadbare hassocks. Dust in
the air was highlighted by sunlight coming in through a
window high above the altar.
'Good morning,' said a voice from the gloom at the far end.
They waited while a figure, clad in black, emerged from
the shadows and turned in to the centre aisle after bowing to
the altar. He came towards them. 'I'm the vicar, Simon
Welsby. Can I help you or are you just looking?'
'Actually we're lost,' said Avedissian on the spur of the
moment. 'We were making for the base but somehow ended
up in Valham.'
'The base? What base would that be?' asked Welsby.
'The military establishment,' tried Avedissian.
'My dear chap, there's no military establishment near
Valham.'
'Not so much military, more scientific Civil Service really.'
'Oh I see, research and all that?'
'Exactly.'
'In this area you say . . . and I didn't know.’
Avedissian and Kathleen wished Welsby good-morning and returned to the car where they found O'Neill waiting.
'Nothing,’ he said.
'Nothing,’ they agreed.
'One good thing,’ said O'Neill.
Avedissian and Kathleen both turned towards him.
‘
The pub's open.'
They had to wait outside while the landlord cleared away a
number of full crates of lemonade from the doorway. He seemed ill tempered and keen to voice his displeasure. 'I
dunno,’ he grumbled. 'Some folks has queer ideas.'
'Problems?' asked Avedissian.
The man paused to mop his brow and straighten his back. 'They order six crates for their trip and I humps them all out
for them. Then they don't even bother to pick them up! I
dunno.’
'Sign of the times,’ sympathised Avedissian.
The man finished clearing the passage and said, 'Right then, come away in. What'll it be?'
They took their drinks out to the back garden of the inn
and nursed them in a general air of pessimism.
'I don't see what else we can do,’ said Kathleen and O'Neill agreed.
'There must be some kind of manor house that goes with a
village this old,’ said Avedissian, thinking out loud.
'We can ask,’ said Kathleen.
The landlord's wife had arrived in the bar to be regaled with complaints from her husband about the uncollected
lemonade and the sound drifted out into the garden where
silence now reigned. 'Maybe they will come for it later, dear,’
soothed the woman.
'Don't be stupid, woman, they've already gone. I phoned
the school.'
'Must have forgotten in the excitement, dear.’
'Downright thoughtlessness I call it,’ grumbled the man.
'Yes, dear,’ said the woman with a conspiratorial shrug to
Avedissian and the others as she came out into the garden to
collect glasses. 'Men!' she whispered in mock collusion. ‘Talk
about us women moaning!'
Avedissian took the opportunity to ask the woman about
a manor house and she covered her mouth before saying in
an exaggerated whisper, 'Just as well you didn't ask Will
about that. He might have gone through the roof! Our
manor house, Trelford, was turned into a residential school
some years ago. It was the school that ordered the
lemonade!'
'Oh I see,’ said Avedissian, but his heart was not in it.
Their last chance of finding something that Kell might be
interested in Valham seemed to have gone. They got up
to leave.
As they walked slowly back to the car Avedissian took a
detour to look over a stone bridge at the village stream and
Kathleen joined him. She saw the troubled look on his face
and said, 'You've done all you can. You know you have.’
There has to be something,’ said Avedissian. 'It's just that
we can't see it.’
Instead of turning the car, Avedissian drove out the other
end of the village, hoping to loop round and re-join the
main road. The road on this side of the village seemed even
narrower than the one they had come in on and twisted
hither and thither as if tracing the bed of some
long-forgotten stream. Above them tall trees stretched out
to intermingle their branches in a canopy that blocked out
the sun.
Half a mile from the village they came to a pair of stone
entrance pillars that had been deprived of the gates they
once held. A modern-looking board was fixed to one of
them, incongruous with its local authority writing. Trelford House School, it said. They glanced up the drive as they
passed but could not see anything for the trees.
They drove on but suddenly Avedissian applied the brakes so hard that Kathleen, sitting in the back, was flung violently
forward. 'What on earth?' she exclaimed.
'The school! It was the school!' said Avedissian excitedly.
'What about it? It was the one the landlord's wife told us about,' said Kathleen, exchanging puzzled looks with her
brother.
'Don't you see? It was the
school
that Kell was interested
in!'
'But why would Kell care about a school?'-asked Kathleen.
'Because of the kind of school it is! The signboard! It said
Trelford House School. . . for Handicapped Young
People".'
Kathleen and O'Neill still looked blank, completely unable
to share Avedissian's excitement.
'Trelford must be one of the places to receive an invitation
to the royal party! The landlord said that they were going on a
trip today but they didn't pick up their lemonade! It's my
guess that Kell is running the trip now. Kell doesn't need a tank to get through security. He has an official invitation!'
'My God, he'll be waved straight through!' said Kathleen.