Good Deed Bad Deed, Marcia Morgan [summer beach reads TXT] 📗

Hugh pulled the Rover into the Swindon station car park, found a slot, and told Paris to hurry gathering up her belongings. They had rushed to the ticket window before learning that service to London would be delayed for most of the morning, or until the sheep could be gathered and removed.

Hugh didn’t look forward to the drive to London, closed in the car with a fretting wife while being plagued by his own concerns. Paris was showing the strain of the whole affair, and Hugh was doing his best to soothe and reassure her, but in fact he was deeply concerned as well and just better at hiding it. He was not only worried about the physical and emotional strain on his wife, but even more so the danger his daughter was facing—and the risk Ben would soon face if he managed to find her. There was no time to wait for the tracks to be cleared, so there was no choice but get back to the Rover and head for London. He had begun to keep Paris with him at all times, and they were due to meet with his Interpol contacts by mid-morning.

Once on the highway, Paris broke her short silence. “Is there a definite plan of action at this point? When I know how this is intended to play out I think I’ll be able to cope.”

“It’s important that we look as if we’re keeping to the same daily routine—me dropping you at the museum, or coming in with you.” Paris nodded her head in agreement, and Hugh continued. “We’ll finalize everything today. The last piece of the puzzle can’t be placed until you’re contacted again and given the name of the armored car company that’s been invented by our crooked friends.”

“Friends? How can you even joke with that word? Evil bastards. That’s who they are.”

Time and miles ticked away before Paris spoke again. “Where are they going to get an armored vehicle, let alone the two it will take to transport the treasure? Only one would have contained what’s valuable. The other would be a decoy. Under normal circumstances, any robbery attempt would involve a decision by officers about which truck to pursue.”

Hugh accelerated to pass a dawdling old Mercedes and then said, “Remember, just because a truck is labeled armored doesn’t mean that it actually is armored.”

“Hmmm … this is an ‘elaborate’ plot, for lack of a better word. It’s almost too intricate—too easy for something to go wrong … for them I hope.”

“The value of what they want seems to warrant the effort,” Hugh said. “Let’s listen to some music and try to relax a bit before we hit London.”

“All right, but I’m still not sure I can be convincing enough to ensure they believe I’ve gone along with things just as instructed. You’re with me all the time now, and I was told not to involve you in any way or Olivia would suffer. What cruelty!” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Paris turned to stare out the window, and after a few minutes she had another question. “How can we be sure we haven’t been watched? If they don’t contact me today with the final instructions, it’s bound to indicate that we’ve been made… Isn’t that what they say on American TV?”

“My darling, you’ve always made me laugh, but in this case it’s not funny. We have to assume that we’ve been watched, at least at times. That’s why it’s important to stick to routine.” He studied his wife’s worried expression then added, “All I can say is ‘fingers crossed’ and do your best. I think your mother lion instinct will work in our favor.”

Paris shifted in her seat and turned slightly to look at her husband. “I’d like to be a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier and be shut in a room with this gaggle of idiots. Then I could take them on one at a time.”

Hugh checked the side mirror and looked over his shoulder before pulling out to pass a grocery truck. Once the maneuver was completed he said, “That’s some pretty tough talk for a delicate beauty such as you.” He reached over and patted her knee.

Paris touched his hand for a moment, obviously comforted by his touch. She then reached forward to turn on the radio, dialing to the quiet music Hugh had suggested. In a serious voice she said, “They say that under the right circumstances everyone is capable of violence.” Hugh didn’t respond. He knew she was right.

Traffic became heavier as they entered the outskirts of London. It was another half hour before they had reached the museum, parked, and settled in Paris’ office to wait for the necessary instructions. Hugh passed the time thumbing through an old magazine, while Paris set about clearing the clutter from her desk.

She stopped what she was doing and said, “I must say, I’m very glad Lyle picked this particular week to be gone. I’d hate to have his nose poking into my office and my business while we’re dealing with all of this.”

Hugh looked up and smiled. “I see you’ve given up on making a friend of him?”

“Gave up long ago. He’s the least congenial little man I’ve ever met… and punctilious to a fault.” She sighed and continued moving folders around in an effort to stay busy. “I’m hoping that with the new job there will be much less need to interact with him.”

Hugh looked up again and said, “I had rather hoped I’d be seeing more of you, not less. I’m concerned that the increased workload may be hard on you. Remember? We had talked about you cutting back on your trips into the city.”

“Any permanent decisions about my job can wait until the children are home, safe, and settled. Until then I can’t think straight. At the start I was just going to fill the position in the interim while they looked for someone. I told the director I didn’t want to