Maidens in the Vale

MAIDENS IN THE VALEPatrick RobinsonAUSTIN MACAULEY PUBLISHERS Maidens in the Vale About the AuthorCopyright Information ©AcknowledgementPrologueChapter One: A Sinister Overture Chapter Two: No Cathedrals for SashaChapter Three: Prepared to Kill Chapter Four: “Someone Bumped Him Off”Chapter Five: The Butterflies of DeathChapter Six: The Verdun ExperimentChapter Seven: No Evidence, No CluesChapter Eight: The March of the Paper TigersChapter Nine: A Legal Time-Bomb in the Letters PageChapter Ten: Barton in ParisChapter Eleven: A Door Opens in the House of LordsChapter Twelve: A Black Op in the Hot-TubChapter Thirteen: A Sampan to MacauChapter Fourteen: She’s Innocent, Rules the CoronerChapter Fifteen: The High Priest of the TokkotaiChapter Sixteen: A Warrior Princess Enters USAChapter Seventeen: Get Me Out of HereChapter Eighteen: A Bulldog from the BayousChapter Nineteen: The Fears of the Soviet AssassinChapter Twenty: Concealed Money—Liechtenstein CallingChapter Twenty-One: The Shadow Tracking the KillerChapter Twenty-Two: A Shrimp Boat to HavanaChapter Twenty-Three: State Police Dragnet for a Dead ManChapter Twenty-Four: In the Stateroom of Czar Vladimir IVChapter Twenty-Five: Middleweight Barton’s Killer Right HookChapter Twenty-Six: The Unarmed Assassin Loose on the PampasChapter Twenty-Seven: Three Gunshots in an Ocean of GrassChapter Twenty-Eight: The Dire Sequel to a Missed EmailChapter Twenty-Nine: The Swoop of the CondorsChapter Thirty: The Eyes of the Iron DukeChapter Thirty-One: Grand Slam on Death RowChapter Thirty-Two: Cash Down - A Contract KillingEpilogueAuthor’s Note About the AuthorPatrick Robinson is a former sports columnist for the London Daily Express. He has written close to 30 books, some sports, some military. Translated into 27 languages, more than 22 best sellers, #1 spots, with two different books, on both the New York Times List, and the London Times List. One of his horse racing books was the official gift of the United States presented to the Queen by President Reagan. He wrote Lone Survivor for Navy SEAL Marcus Luttrell. Sold over 4 million, top of the bestseller list for eight months. Major movie. Copyright Information ©Patrick Robinson 2023 The right of Patrick Robinson to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. ISBN 9781528974592 (Paperback)ISBN 9781528978422 (ePub e-book) www.austinmacauley.com First Published 2023Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®1 Canada SquareCanary WharfLondonE14 5AA AcknowledgementDick Neve whose highly active brain created the original idea for Maidens In The Vale. He handed over the writing to me, but remained on board until the book was completed. He is without doubt the best literary researcher I ever worked with. Because Dick was not just a gatherer of facts, but as a writer himself, he’s an instinctive judge of what was important and relevant, even when it showed up unexpectedly. And that’s a rare gift, as any experienced writer will tell you. PrologueThe elegant house in Maida Vale was quiet in the late afternoon. And Sasha came down the stairs silently, hoping, even praying, that her older sister would not hear her. She wore her school blazer over a white shirt and blue jeans.At 15, she might have looked older, if dressed differently. But her golden hair was uncombed, she wore not a semblance of makeup, and on closer examination her tear-stained face suggested she had been crying for a month.Not quite, Maybe three weeks. At school she had long been regarded as a beauty, but this no longer applied. Sasha no longer cared what she looked like. And she fought valiantly to try to get the big brass handle of the front door to turn without squeaking.Once outside, she ducked below the garden hedge to avoid detection from her step-father’s study. And then she crept furtively down the path to the wrought-iron front gate. Essentially the tall, crouching Sasha looked like a burglar on a half-term break.Beyond the gate, and on the pavement, she ran, across the street and through a mews walkway before emerging onto a busy shopping arcade a couple of blocks north of Bayswater Road, where the urban sprawl of west London meets Hyde Park.Only then did she slow down and readjust the one-foot square painting of the third-century Roman Catholic Virgin Martyr, Saint Agatha, which she carried under her left arm. And she was still crying as she begged her God to forgive her for mortal sins beyond imagination.Sasha prayed silently as she walked … I never meant it … please, please God don’t send me to hell—but I’d rather be there than stay here … I never meant to offend … I never wanted any of this … but I’m too afraid … please God …I’m begging you to keep my dearest sister safe … but please help me …Passers-by stared as the heartbroken, sobbing schoolgirl made her way into the area which surrounds one of the top colleges in the capital. She made no attempt to dry her eyes, and when she reached the high residential tower block she waited out beyond the fence, until a group of people headed for the entrance.Swiftly, she joined them and followed them into the lift, waiting until the last one made an exit at the 14th floor. And then she pressed the button up to the Penthouse, where the hallway was deserted. Sasha went directly to the door marked ‘Roof-garden.’This meant a short flight of steps and then an emergency exit door with a wide push-bar. But Sasha