Dangerous Deception by Anthea Fraser Read Free Book Online Page B

organised by a rambling club or some such, as Jack had told Gareth. In which case, I’d look very silly if I ran to the police about it.
    The argument, rational though it might be, didn’t convince me. Despite the closeness in the room, I was shivering with apprehension and it was imperative to steady myself so I could think clearly. A hot drink might help.
    I flicked through the assorted packages of beverage on the stand, selected one containing chocolate powder and tipped it into a cup. Then I filled the kettle at the basin and, despite the proverb’s warning, stood watching as it came to the boil, my mind going round and round this latest development. Was there anything of significance that I’d missed?
    Yes! A sentence came back to me, offering a pinpoint of hope. Abandoning the kettle, I hurried back to the bed and opened Jack’s letter again.
You know the initial impact you have.
Initial impact! Then Aladdin had never met Goldilocks!
    Slowly a fantastic idea was forming. Could I – dare I bluff him into believing I really was her? Because otherwise, things might get very unpleasant. I had, after all, been handed what could be regarded as incriminating evidence, and even if I told him of the mix-up, he’d realise I knew too much.
    If, on the other hand, I could go along with them until I learned what ‘Operation Beanstalk’ and ‘the loot’ were, I could present the police with the complete picture.
    The sound of the kettle boiling merrily intruded on my brooding and I made my drink. Then, hands round the hot, soothing cup, I tried to marshal my thoughts.
    On the plus side, Sinbad was already convinced of my identity; I could reel off a string of code names, and I had the plan. And Aladdin for his part would hardly be expecting a substitute.
    The crux would come when the real Goldilocks arrived. When the expected approach wasn’t made, she would contact Jack, who’d get on to Sinbad.
    Well – I straightened my shoulders – if it came to that, I’d have to brazen it out – say I’d thought it was a joke. Blondes were supposed to be dumb, weren’t they?
    At best, I only had until Sunday; to have any chance of pulling off my deception, the proposed ‘reconnaissance’ must therefore take place tomorrow. After that, I should know exactly what was involved, and could decide my course of action. And with luck I could still be away before she arrived.
    I glanced down at the letters. I was under orders to destroy them, but they and the notes were all I had to support my story and there was no way I was going to dispose of them.
    Fumbling in my handbag, I took out the identical notes which had started the whole affair and slid them, together with the letters, into the buff envelope. Then, since I should later be showing the map to Aladdin, I obediently rubbed out the pencil markings on it with the eraser on my diary pencil and slid it back into the white envelope.
    Now to find a suitable hiding-place. Sipping my cocoa, I carefully studied the room. Then, setting down the cup, I dragged the dressing-stool over to the wardrobe, climbed on it, and, reaching up, explored the top with my fingers.
    It was lined with sheets of newspaper, screened from below by the bevelled edge of the ornate frontage. Ideal, I thought, and climbed down to retrieve the envelopes, which I carefully inserted between the newspaper and the top of the wardrobe.
    Feeling like a character in a spy novel, I replaced the stool and checked that no sign remained of my dead-of-night manoeuvres. Then, confident that I had done all I could for the moment, I climbed back into bed, switched off the light, and prepared to wait for the dawn.

Chapter Five
    â€˜Jack and Jill went up the hill …’
    Nursery Rhyme
    WHEN I opened heavy eyes the next morning it was as though I’d barely slept, though in fact I must have had four or five hours, since the hands of my clock pointed to