Free The First Rule Of Survival by Paul Mendelson Page A

then let go, deciding to come clean.
    ‘All right. I stopped at the mini-mall because I was thirsty and I wanted a cool drink, and . . . because there is an “Adult Fantasy” shop there.’
    ‘Oh, I see. I didn’t know there was a branch there. Did you, Warrant Officer?’
    Don thinks de Vries knows full well about an ‘Adult Fantasy’ store there. Don, however, doesn’t.
    ‘No.’
    ‘What did you buy? Some magazines, DVDs . . . lingerie?’
    ‘That’s my business. I’ve told you I was there.’
    ‘I think you’ll find it’s my business too. Now, go and show Warrant Officer February your stash. Don’t worry, he’s quite unshockable. And give him your friend’s details too.’
    Don gets up, but Ledham remains seated.
    ‘I wish to call my lawyer. I want to know what he says about this illegal search.’
    ‘Fine. You get one call before we lock you up.’
    Ledham suddenly seems confused, disorientated. He looks at de Vries. ‘All right, all right. You don’t care how much you humiliate me, do you?’
    ‘No.’
    Ledham leads Don towards the bedroom, glancing back at de Vries as he goes.
    The moment they are out of sight,Vaughn walks to the opposite end of the house, opens a door onto a guest room with a pink carpet and an old-fashioned exercise bike by the French door. He opens the cupboards, checks under the mattress and the bed. He walks up and down the carpet, feeling for a hollow space. When he finds nothing, he leaves the room and opens the next door. It is a large walk-in closet, containing cleaning equipment. He hunts for a light-switch, but can’t find one. The third door he tries is locked. He trots back to the living room, opens every cupboard door he can find, searches an antique cabinet, containing only old half-finished bottles of spirits, and tracks back and forth over the carpeting. When he is satisfied that there is nothing obviously hidden, he goes to the window and stares out into the yard. There is a narrow deck, a short strip of grass, well-tended, and a narrow paved area. He can see where Ledham has planted some trees and climbers against the dominating wall.
    He hears Ledham and Don returning. When they are back in the room, Ledham says: ‘Everything legal. Maybe not to your taste, but legal. Isn’t that right, Warrant Officer?’
    Vaughn looks at Don, who nods, but looks disgusted.
    ‘There’s a locked room down there,’ de Vries says. ‘What’s in that room?’
    ‘You have no right—’
    ‘What’s in the room?’
    ‘My work is in that room.’
    ‘What work is that?’
    Ledham straightens himself stiffly. ‘I’m an illustrator. For books.’
    ‘What kind of books?’
    ‘Children’s books. I create the illustrations for the
Davey and Pie
series.’
    De Vries remembers the title. He wonders whether he has bought the books for his daughters.
    ‘Just show us that room, please. Then we’ll leave you.’
    Ledham gets up and walks to the door. He produces a key from his trouser pocket and unlocks it.
    ‘If an intruder gets in, he can take everything but my work.’ There is a little pride in his voice.
    He enters the room, de Vries and Don February following. Two walls are covered, almost floor to ceiling, with beautiful, intricate drawings. Vaughn immediately recognizes the work; knows that his daughters have been enchanted by these pictures. He sees one wall covered with detailed pen-and-ink drawings, almost as atmospheric as William Blake etchings, each rendered much larger than he has seen in the books, the other wall showing coloured scenes of mysterious misty woodlands, medieval castles guarded by men in shining armour, and an underwater scene of huge colourful fish partying while the heroes are thrown around on a giant waterlily pad on the surface above them. He has read these stories out loud to his girls, admiring the artist. His daughters have gaped at the pictures, probably dreamt about the adventures.
    ‘You write these too?’ de Vries asks.
    ‘No. I am