The Graves at Angel Brook (Quigg Book 3)

by Tim Ellis

‘I enjoyed last night even more, Bartholomew. The after-dinner entertainment was very special, thank you.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, James.’

  ‘So why have you dragged me away from my wood fire, Beethoven’s piano concerto No.4, and a large glass of 1989 Methuselah Champagne?’

  ‘Well, not to look at sea life.’

  ‘I am glad.’

  ‘Quigg took the hacker to his flat, then the following day the journalist put her in an empty flat.’

  ‘How strange.’

  ‘Not really. It just proves they have not forgotten about us. They intend to use the hacker to get to us.’

  ‘Sounds rather far-fetched, Bartholomew. Are you sure you’re not seeing things that aren’t there?’

  ‘What other explanation could there be?’

  ‘Perhaps they are simply hiding her. Has your man seen any computer equipment being moved in?’

  ‘Well no, but we should err on the side of caution. The same man that missed her before is going in tonight.’

  ‘I hope his continued existence is dependent upon his success this time?’

  ‘I have another man shadowing him. Whether number one succeeds in the task or fails is irrelevant. Number two will terminate him either way.’

  ‘Tidying up loose ends.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  They had reached the end. No thought had been given to the final aquatic experience. If they had thought about the shark finale, neither of them would have stepped on to the floating platform. Five different species of shark swam in the tank just centimetres beneath their feet.

  ‘Is this a type of mind-enhancing experience you’ve brought me on, Bartholomew? I can assure you that I experience more than enough danger at the Lords.’

  ‘I had no idea we would have to get up close and personal with sharks, James. We’re that close, I could pick their teeth with my umbrella.’

  A young lady, with Sea Life London Aquarium emblazoned on the front and back of her tracksuit top, came along the platform with a tray of fish. People screamed as the platform swung from side to side.

  ‘Please help yourself to fish,’ she said. ‘It’s their feeding time.’

  James looked at Bartholomew with fear in his eyes. ‘Feeding time, Bartholomew!’

  Bartholomew grinned sheepishly and said, ‘Sorry, James.’

  ***

  Friday 2nd January

  ‘Quigg?’

  You have to help me, Quigg.

  He could barely hear the person on the other end of the connection.

  ‘Who is it?’

  Lucy.

  ‘Not again? It’s…’ he squinted at his luminous watch in the dark, ‘quarter to three in the morning.’

  Someone is trying to get into the flat.

  ‘You’re not just trying to get me there for another reason, are you, Lucy?’

  Oh shit! They’ve opened the front door. I’m going out the back, Quigg.

  She hadn’t showed him the back. Was there a back? Where did it lead?

  ‘Where are you now, Lucy?’

  Half way up a set of metal ladders attached to a wall. I’m freezing. All I’ve got on is a pair of shorts, a vest and my slippers. You’d better get here quick, otherwise I’ll be dead from the cold.

  He had switched the light on and was already dressing. ‘I’m on my way. Where will I find you?’

  Pull up outside the 24-hour mart further down the road. I’ll see you.

  ‘I’m on my way. I’ll be about fifteen minutes.’

  He put the phone down and finished dressing.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you, Sir?’ Duffy said, pulling the quilt over her head.

  ‘No, you stay here in the warm, Duffy. I can manage.’ He opened a drawer and took one of Duffy’s old tracksuits out. Lucy will be suffering from hypothermia if all she has on are shorts and a vest, he thought.

  He hurried out of the flat, started the car, and switched on his satnav. It had been the last place he’d travelled to using it, but because he was coming at it from a different direction, he wasn’t sure of the route. At this time of the morning, he’d let the machine do the thinking.

  What had gone wrong? There were only two options: either they had followed Ruth, or they had followed him. Either way it was worrying. It suggested that they were being watched twenty-four hours a day. God, he’d been so stupid. Of course they’d watch him. He should have known when he’d heard about Surfer Bob and someone trying to kill Lucy. They were the two people who had helped him find the Apostles; without them he wouldn’t be able to pick up the trail. He had to protect Lucy at all costs. He rang Ruth on the secret mobile. It took her ages to answer.

  Are you insane, Quigg?

  ‘I seem to recall you phoning me at this time of the morning.’

  That was before you made me pregnant.

  ‘I made you pregnant?’ He didn’t really want to discuss semantics at three in the morning but…

  Why are you ringing?

  ‘They’ve found out where you put Lucy, and they’re trying to get into the flat now. I’m on my way to rescue her, and then I’m bringing her to you.’

  Why here?

  ‘You know what she’s like. I don’t trust her.’

  You mean you do not trust yourself?

  ‘That is not what I mean at all. Up to now I’ve fought her off, but…’

  You’re weak, I know, Quigg. Where women are concerned, you are like a jellyfish.

  ‘Thank you, but I was going to say she’s like a demented octopus.’ He made it sound as though he was offended, but he knew she was right. ‘I’ll be there in about an hour.’

  I will be waiting for you.

  It had stopped snowing. The world sparkled in the streetlights. Tyres crunched on the fresh snow as he pulled forward. He drove slow, every road a black hole ready to swallow him up. After twenty minutes, he came to a stop outside the 24-hour mart. He wondered whether he should go in the shop, make it look as though he was there to buy something, but he decided against it. He might need to get out fast, although if he put his foot down on the accelerator, he’d lose control and end up somewhere unexpected. He turned the heater up a couple of clicks so that Lucy would feel the warmth when she got in. Where the hell was she? Then he saw a shadow. It wasn’t Lucy; it was someone dressed in black - someone who lived in the shadows. Lucy wasn’t going to come out while he was there. He moved forward along the road. Now what? He’d just have to drive round and see if Lucy jumped out at him. She could be anywhere now. His mobile rang.

  ‘Lucy?’

  Yes.

  ‘Where are you?’

  Keep driving to the end of the road. I’m on the corner.

  He checked in his rear-view. There were no cars following him, and he couldn’t see the man in black. Lucy opened the door, and threw herself into the front seat as he came to a stop.

  ‘Don’t stop, you fool. Keep driving. Speed up.’

  ‘Hello, Lucy.’ He passed over Duffy’s old tracksuit. ‘Here, put this on.’

  She was shivering, and could barely talk. ‘Do you want me to take these off first?’ she said, indicating her shorts and vest.

  He didn’t grasp her meaning. ‘Are they wet?’

  ‘You’re not very bright are you, Quigg?’ Her hand had strayed to his crotch.

  ‘You can keep those on.’ He gripped her wrist and removed it from his groin. ‘And you can keep your hands to yourself, as well.’

  ‘Are you going to stop somewhere?’

  ‘I’m taking you to Ruth’s flat.’

  ‘No one would know, Quigg. You could fuck me senseless, and then take me to Ruth's.’

  ‘I’d know, Lucy.’

  ‘Would it give you sleepless nights? Would you have to go to confession? You can run, but you can’t hide, Quigg. Once those other two have got fat, ugly and flabby, you’ll be knocking on my door wanting firm young flesh.’

  ‘Do you have to be so graphic, Lucy?’

  ‘I’ve been
around, Quigg. I know what men want.’

  ‘Well, this man is spoken for.’

  ‘For now.’

  Thankfully, he arrived outside Ruth’s block of flats in Kensington. Once security had verified who they were, they walked up the two flights of stairs. Ruth had left the door ajar and they slipped in. Quigg made sure the door was secure before he went in.

  Ruth took Lucy and showed her to a bedroom.

  Quigg made himself a coffee in the kitchen. He had barely had a sip when Ruth came in dressed in a mid-thigh red satin and lace slip, carrying a bottle of baby lotion. He was about to comment on how fantastically beautiful she looked, but she put a finger to his lips and took his hand. He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to guess where she was taking him.

  ‘Lucy is in the shower. You have time to make me warm inside.’

  Warm inside! He’d made Duffy warm inside earlier. God, he was just a love machine.

  She tore at his clothes. He wasn’t going to be slow cooked tonight, but incinerated by her raging heat. She pushed him back onto the bed, sat astride him, and eased him into her. She kissed him, and he wondered what had happened to the baby oil. He pulled the straps of the satin slip down and kneaded her nipples.

  Then…There seemed to be another pair of hands in the melee. Lucy and Ruth were kissing. Lucy’s hair was wet. She smelled of roses, and was intertwined with him and Ruth.

  What was going on? Had Ruth and Lucy arranged this? Was he a victim of another conspiracy? He could stand up, get dressed, and walk out... Or, he could…

  Chapter Ten

  It was six-thirty. He was sitting on a stool and flopped over the breakfast bar. The strong black coffee was slow to take effect. He’d have to leave soon. If Duffy woke up and saw he wasn’t there, she’d begin to worry. He could phone her, but she might not be awake yet. He felt as though he’d had the life sucked out of him.

  ‘Good morning, Quigg,’ Ruth said as she came in with an open satin dressing gown over her slip.

  ‘I’m shocked.’

  ‘Why? It seemed logical that we let you have sex with Lucy under controlled conditions. It was going to happen sooner or later anyway.’

  ‘Under controlled conditions! What am I, a lab rat?’

  ‘You will tell me next you did not enjoy it?’

  ‘That’s not the point.’

  ‘Are we having our first argument?’

  Just then, Lucy came in wearing her grey boxer shorts and the white T-shirt she’d had on last night, which boasted I Could Be a Bitch If I Was Nicer across the front. ‘It was worth waiting for, Quigg. When are you going to fuck me again?’

  Quigg stood and said, ‘I have to go. And for your information, Lucy, whatever your name is, it was you who fucked me, not the other way round.’

  Lucy began opening drawers and cupboards. ‘It was good, whoever led the charge.’

  ‘We have not talked about what happened last night, and where she will go now,’ Ruth said.

  ‘You need to get those bodyguards back. Then go out and buy some men’s clothes from the charity shop, a realistic-looking moustache and beard from the fancy dress shop, and a new flat from the flat shop.’

  ‘I liked the flat I was in,’ Lucy pouted.

  ‘Unfortunately, I’ve realised Ruth and I are being followed. We led them to you.’

  ‘Neither of you two is very bright. A detective and a journalist, both with degrees - I had a mongrel with more brains.’

  ‘Thank you for your vote of confidence, Lucy. If we’re going to do this properly and not get killed in the process, we’d better start acting like professionals. The first thing is to sneak Lucy out of here and into another flat, hence the fancy dress. It’ll mean that future communications will mostly be by telephone, email, or webcam.’

  ‘How are you going to fuck me again if we never see each other? If you want me to work for you, then I want fucking regularly - once a week should do it, Quigg.’

  He turned to Ruth. ‘Now see what you’ve done. I feel like a prostitute.’

  Ruth shrugged.

  ‘Once a month, Lucy.’ He felt as though he were haggling at the market. ‘Anyway, I didn’t say we’d never see each other, just that when we do need to come to the flat, we’ll have to take precautions.’

  ‘I’m on the pill.’

  ‘Security precautions.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’m going to go now.’ He kissed Ruth. Lucy puckered up. It looked like she had joined his harem. Reluctantly, he kissed Lucy and left.

  Outside, he turned the ignition on, put the heater to maximum and flicked the switch for the back window defroster. While he was scraping the ice off the side windows, he looked around for any evidence of being watched, but it was still dark and the streetlights were dim, so he saw nothing of interest.

  He drove slowly back to the flat and saw no sign of being followed. They would probably regroup and attack again at a later date, he thought. It was going to be like this until he brought the Apostles to justice. He had to be more professional in his approach. There was not just himself to consider, but two pregnant women he probably loved, Phoebe, and now Lucy. With each passing day, his life became more complex, like the steps of a puzzle box. And the Apostles were like a tower of Jenga blocks. He had to remove enough blocks until the tower fell down.

  He let himself in. He saw Duffy disappear into the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off as he walked along the hall and joined her in the shower. Afterwards, they dried each other and he told her what had happened.

  ‘You had better start wearing your bullet-proof vest again, Sir.’

  ‘I suppose so. Now that I have so many mouths to feed, I haven’t got time to be sick.’

  ‘Ah, the poor overworked inspector,’ she said, in baby talk, while pushing him out of the bathroom and shutting the door.

  He went through into the bedroom and dressed in clean clothes. Remembering he had a press briefing at ten o’clock, he put a checked shirt and striped tie on.

  When Duffy came through, naked, into the bedroom, she said, ‘Have you entered a worst dressed person competition?’

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve got a press briefing.’

  ‘That shirt and tie don’t go together.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘Says normal people.’

  She started undoing his tie while he started caressing her breasts with one hand, and creeping down her belly with the other.

  ‘You can do it yourself, then.’ She stepped away from him. ‘What else have you got in the cupboard?’ And then she went to look for herself. ‘Here,’ she said, pushing a shirt at him, ‘put this on with that tie.’

  He did as he was told, then sat on the bed and watched Duffy put on a pair of white ribbon lace boy shorts and matching bra. He stood up and moved towards her, but she put her arm out to ward him off, and said, ‘You’ve already made me late with your sexual demands. Go away.’

  ‘How quickly the worm turns,’ he said and went into the kitchen for toast and coffee. When she came through, dressed and made up, he said, ‘I didn’t slip on the ice last night. I was attacked.’ He put his hand up to his nose, which was still slightly tender.

  She stopped pouring her Special K into a dish and stared at him. ‘By who?’

  ‘PC Pratchett from traffic.’

  ‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you, Sir?’

  ‘No Duffy, I’m not. He attacked me because DI Gwen Taylor is pregnant.’

  ‘Oh, Sir.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid it’s mine, Duffy, but it really wasn’t my fault this time.’ He told her how he had refused to sleep with DI Taylor over a year ago, but when he needed help on the Body 13 case, she had forced him to have sex with her on the floor in the incident room.’

  ‘You mean we were all sitting in that room and you had screwed that woman on the floor?’

  ‘She screwed me, Duffy - I just lay there.’

  ‘Are there any more women and babies I should know about?’<
br />
  ‘You make me sound like a Lothario, Duffy.’

  ‘I don’t even know what one of those is, Sir, but if the cap fits…’

  ‘It doesn’t fit, Duffy. In fact, the cap is far too damned small. In every case I’m not the one who initiated first contact.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been pursued and trapped by you, Ruth, Lucy and Gwen Taylor, and Cheryl was in there somewhere as well. I’m a victim of circumstance, Duffy. I mean, look at Lucy last night. I was doing well fending her off, but then you and Ruth decided I should have sex with her under "controlled conditions". I’m not in control of my own life anymore. I feel like a marionette with strings through my hands and feet.’

  ‘Does she want to come and live with us, as well?’

  ‘God forbid, Duffy. No, sex with Gwen Taylor was a once in a lifetime experience. It was before you and I got together. It’ll never happen again. If the truth were known, I don’t even like her. I agreed to have sex with her so that she wouldn’t hate me anymore, but she tricked me. You know about tricking men, Duffy.’

  ‘You, Sir, not men. Are you sorry I tricked you?’

  ‘Don’t twist my words, Duffy. I am absolutely very glad you tricked me. What I’m saying is that I seem to be tricked by women on a regular basis. I’m like a stooge in a slapstick comedy.’

  ‘Now is probably not a good time to tell you, but Cheryl rang me up to tell me she’s pregnant.’

  ‘It’s a conspiracy to ruin me financially, isn’t it, Duffy?’

  ‘She doesn’t know whether she’s keeping it yet.’

  ‘She wants to get rid of my baby?’

  ‘Nothing has been decided, Sir. And I told you that in confidence, you’re not to speak to her about it.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘I mean it, Sir.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, reluctantly.

  ‘As for DI Taylor - ugh I don’t know how you could, Sir. She’s so… false.’

  ‘I know, Duffy; it was a dreadful mistake.’

  ‘Ruth and I will have to talk about your infidelity and see what we’re going to do about it.’

  ‘Don’t I have any say?’

  ‘You did your talking on the floor of the incident room, Sir. Anything else you say now will just make matters worse.’