Free Deception by Adrian Magson Page A

ground from numerous points where the blockage was most acute. He left the car and walked up the open paved drive to the front door. It was fitted with a heavy brass knocker in the shape of a fish. He lifted it and let it drop with a hollow boom .
    No reaction. He waited, then knocked again. The fish was tarnished, unused, and the letterbox had been sealed shut. No sounds from inside, no sense of movement. He took out his mobile and rang the landline. No good trying Tan’s mobile number, it was showing unobtainable. He could hear the phone ringing inside. It had that empty quality.
    â€˜Can I help you?’
    The voice came from the lane behind him. He turned and saw a tall, trim woman in her fifties standing at the end of the driveway. She was wearing a green waterproof and walking boots, and had a lock of wet hair plastered down one cheek, courtesy of the rain. Harry walked back down the drive and smiled to put her at her ease.
    â€˜I’m looking for Vanessa Tan,’ he said. ‘I thought she might be in.’
    â€˜Vanessa?’ The woman lifted one eyebrow. ‘Goodness, she hasn’t been around for years. May I ask who you are?’
    Harry took out his wallet and showed her his card with the official portcullis logo in one corner. It was a useful leftover from his MI5 days, although it didn’t say anything about the Security Services in writing.
    â€˜Oh. Government.’ The woman looked impressed. ‘Sorry – only we have to be so careful these days, don’t we?’ She tucked the stray hair back behind her ear. ‘Excuse the state of me – I like walking in the rain. I find it therapeutic. I’m Margaret Crane; the next house up. I’m afraid I can’t help you, Mr Tate. Vanessa left home to go to uni some years back, and that’s the last we saw of her. Maureen, her mother – she died just over a year ago now – always told us Vanessa was doing well, but she never came home to visit, as far as I know.’ She glanced up at the sad-looking bungalow. ‘Such a shame, leaving the place empty like this. I think Maureen must have hoped Vanessa would come back one day, and she’d have this waiting for her. It needs someone living in it, though, rather than simply being patched up. But that’s young people for you, isn’t it? A different sense of responsibility, I suppose.’
    Harry saw what she was referring to: a wooden panel had been fitted over one of the smaller windows. It had the appearance of what his father had once called a long-term temporary fix, something that would do until a better alternative came along. ‘So who does the patching up?’
    â€˜A management chap comes round every now and then, but he never says anything. Checks it’s sound, I imagine, does whatever needs doing, then goes away.’ She gestured vaguely in the direction of the coast road. ‘There’s quite a few like this, though; empty year-round, never a sight or sound of who owns them, makes you wonder why they bought them in the first place. And they say there’s a housing shortage.’ She shook her head at the absurdity of it.
    â€˜Do you know which company?’
    She nodded. ‘They’re local. Menai Management. In the centre of Caernarfon.’
    â€˜Thank you. I don’t suppose you know if Vanessa has any friends in the area?’
    â€˜I doubt it. She was such a quiet girl growing up – and her mother always kept her nose to the grindstone. Wanted her to go to university and get a good job. She was too hard on her, in my opinion, always pushing her to excel, poor kid – as if she might make up for being a bit plain by having a string of letters after her name. Her father wanted it, too, don’t get me wrong, but he died when she was in her teens.’ She looked sad. ‘I’m not surprised she never came back, not once she got away. All that pressure – it was bound to tell in the