by Karl Fish
Secrets and Lies
Closing the door behind them as they exited via the shop entrance, Gideon and Aggie descended the half a dozen or so stone steps onto the mossy cobbles. They left Eric Peabody working in the cellar. After a few steps, Aggie turned around to take in a better view of Gideon’s house. Its dominant black brickwork facade, accentuated with white flagstone edges, made it stand out against the castle ruins behind. Locally it had been known as the Gemini house, on account of its conjoined asymmetrical habitats. Together the residences were formally known as ‘1a’ and ‘1b’ – The Keep.
1a was Gideon’s home. Aggie’s room and its identical miniature version of 1a were on the first floor accompanied with a bathroom. Gideon’s quarters, bathroom and reading rooms cum entertaining space, sat on the raised ground floor. Not to forget the developing room that ran as a subterranean passage between both properties and where Gideon performed his Top-Secret work.
1b, although identical in many ways, housed Gideon’s business and was home to his vast collections and hobbies. On the raised ground floor, from where they had recently departed, the uniform Georgian window had been replaced by a carbuncle of a glass bay, which the adventurer used to showpiece his worldly finds. The locals had been horrified when he had installed it, just before the outbreak of war. One incensed resident referred to it as, ‘A bulbous drunken nose on the face of a handsome Georgian gentleman’. And to make matters worse, Gideon had enlisted a local artisan to paint a garish red, blue and gold sign on top of the glass, which read:
‘Curios, antiquities, and fortuitous paraphernalia’
It made Aggie chuckle as it was so out of place, and just how she remembered her uncle. Outlandish, boisterous, and quite the showman. Although not so much now. But what really made it stand out from the black brick was the backdrop of the old ruins behind.
The Keep, from where they took the name for 1a and 1b, sat just to the east, slightly back from the shop side. Even though it was many centuries old, the local flint and sand mortar still stood proud, unlike the ruins of the castle and the Priory just behind. The ground floor beneath The Keep acted as the gatehouse and passage through to the hill-topped grounds beyond. A reinforced hulk of a portcullis was suspended within the external wall but had not seen daylight for at least two centuries. Its only protrusions were the rusting gate teeth that were rotten and crumbling and scared many a small child into thinking the pathway was the mouth belonging to a demonic monster or even the gateway to hell itself.
‘Come now, Aggie, much to see, much to do.’ Gideon rushed her along.
‘Much more to explain,’ she responded, still clasping the velvet case in a white-knuckle grip.
Gideon looked down through the corner of his eyes and saw Aggie’s piercing sapphire glare inquisitively awaiting a response. Her eyes were a constant reminder of his sister.
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘But just for today, I need to introduce you to Ambledown.’
He stood with outstretched arms, presenting the town as Aggie gazed down the Steep to the hodgepodge homes, stores and public houses that lined up unevenly on each side. As Aggie and Gideon strolled down the Steep, she was struck by how quiet it was. Admittedly, it was Sunday and most homes across the country would be embracing whatever meat or rations could be mustered for a post-service lunch.
Not only was it quiet, but it was also intact, unlike London and the streets surrounding Florrie’s Marylebone house, Aggie’s home, where roads were peppered with the brutal detritus and everyday reminders of the war that continued unabated and certainly didn’t stop for Sunday lunch.
‘It’s quiet,’ Aggie said. ‘and it smells.’
‘Smells?’ Gideon laughed almost insulted by such a comment.
‘Not in a bad way. Not really,’ she responded. ‘Just different from what I am used to.’
‘That will probably be the brewery,’ he said. ‘I’ll take you there as part of my famous Ambledown tour.’
As Gideon proceeded to point out Ambledown’s finest landmarks – ‘The Church of St Joan’s’, ‘The Castle’, ‘The Keep’ – Agatha felt an uneasy sense that they were being followed or at least being watched. She would occasionally turn around, and it did not go unnoticed.
‘Are you OK, Aggie? You seem agitated,’ Gideon enquired.
‘I feel we’re being followed,’ she replied nervously.
Gideon paused for a moment, scanned their immediate vicinity and then bent down facing her. Taking her by the shoulders, and with his eyes staring directly into her brilliant blues, he proceeded to reassure her.
‘What you have been through in the past few days is not, for the want of a better word, normal. Rest assured you are safe under my stewardship. I will not let any harm come of you. As long as I am here, you have nothing to fear.’
Aggie had not anticipated such a response. It actually made her already inquisitive mind work even harder. Gideon was no doubt sincere and she wholeheartedly felt safe beside him. There was, however, an underlying menace that she could not articulate to him. She felt that he knew, that she knew, anyway. The stranger who’d kidnapped her, the mysterious train journey, nothing made sense. An explanation was still required, despite him skirting over it all.
As Gideon stood back up and composed himself, Aggie saw over his shoulder, the flick of a curtain in the upper room of a house behind him.
‘There!’ she shouted, pointing at the window and forcing her uncle to turn around. ‘Up there in that window. Someone was watching us.’
Her uncle followed her protruding finger as it pointed sharply to the terraced housed behind.
‘I’ve no doubt they were.’ He laughed.
Aggie was not amused and frowned intently back at him.
‘That’s Mrs Parker’s house. Old Nelly Parker. Care to guess her nickname around here?’
Aggie didn’t care to at all and stared back just as intently.
‘Well…it’s Nosey. She is Old Nosey Parker.’ He laughed again. ‘Nothing gets past Nelly. Listen to me, Aggie. You will quickly learn that this place, like any place, is a cauldron of secrets and lies. It’s terribly difficult to keep secrets around here but almost intrinsically simple to offer up a lie. Therefore, we must maintain at all times you are just another evacuee and most definitely not my niece. Understand?’
Agatha did not offer a verbal response, more of a sulky nod.
‘Let me tell you about poor old Nelly. She was widowed in the Great War and left to bring up three young boys. All three sons went off to fight in this war. Two of them were killed; the twins, Ernest and Arty. Lovely, gentle men. But the other son, Thomas, is still missing in action. That’s why you see her at all hours peering out from behind her curtain, longing for his return.’
Aggie could feel the tears filling up her eyes until one breached the lid and trickled southwards removing the dirt and dust from her cheeks. Gideon pulled out a handkerchief, wiped her cheeks clean and then handed it to her.
‘Let’s eat,’ he said. ‘I think you would feel better if you had something inside you. I know I would,’ Gideon said encouragingly. And then, as if this was just a part of any other Sunday, Gideon continued to march on down the Steep, assuming Agatha would follow. After a few defiant moments, and urged on by her grumbling stomach, she did.
Chapter 13
The Compromised
Nathaniel Noone sat opposite Draper as if a staring contest was not beyond these two grown men. It lasted a minute or so before he broke his gaze and began to laugh. Draper laughed too and before too long they were far more relaxed.
‘Why, Nathaniel Noone? Why after all this time?’ Draper asked.
Noone reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a brown envelope.
‘Because of this,’ he replied, throwing the envelope between them onto the desk.
Draper cautiously leant forward and pulled a photograph out of the envelope. He held it up in front of him. There, to the right-hand side of the picture, dressed in tuxedo a
nd dickey bow, Draper saw himself. He was to the side of the picture and almost in the shadows, where he preferred to be. But on this occasion, he had been caught on camera along with several members of state and influential members of society.
‘Good-grief. Where did you get this?’ Draper asked, now curt and aggressive.
‘I found it on a dead man, sir,’ Noone replied.
Draper was not amused, but knowing Nathaniel Noone’s reputation as he did, he sat awkwardly in his seat waiting for him to speak again.
‘Would you mind dimming the lights please, Mr Draper?’
Draper rounded the table, leant past Noone and brought the lights down to as low as he could.
Noone reached into an outer coat pocket this time and pulled out a small steel torch. He struck the beam of it against the photograph and there, in brilliant iridescent blues, the picture was covered with ancient glyphs and symbols. As he turned the torch, they glowed a violet purple. Most of the people within the picture had some sort of mark across their faces. All but one of them were men. The remaining person in question was a lady much taller than all of them who seemed to have long pale hair and the most distinguishable tiger-skin patterned coat.
‘Do you know who these people are, sir?’ Noone wheezed.
Draper nodded, uneasily.
‘Do you recall where and when this was taken?’ Noone continued.
Again, Draper nodded.
‘Good,’ Noone responded. ‘It’s a start.’ Nathaniel Noone stared at Draper. It was uncomfortable for anyone to stare directly back at him, considering the horrendous scarring Noone displayed. Not as uncomfortable as what the man had endured to receive it, but nevertheless, he was aware of how it reviled other people, and occasionally revelled in making them squirm. Noone subtly reached inside his pocket.
‘This is most unusual, Nathaniel,’ replied Draper as he calmly reached for the panic button immediately beneath his wooden desk.
‘Come on, Draper. You won’t be needing to do that.’ Noone smiled, second-guessing his ranking officer’s next move.
‘I just need to show you something,’ Noone reassured him. That was always the problem with spies. They trusted no one, least of all each other.
Draper eased himself out of his chair, rounded the desk and switched off the main light. The darkness was immediate. Easing the blinds a fraction to let peripheral light in, Draper then moved behind Noone who remained seated at the table.
Nathaniel held two torches in his hand. He switched the first one on and the white light beam shone brightly and directly onto the subjects of the photograph previously presented to Draper.
‘What is the purpose of this?’ Draper inquired.
‘A photograph, sir. Records moments for posterity,’ Noone sarcastically responded.
‘I’m not in the mood for your wisecracks, Nathaniel, what are you actually showing me that I don’t already know?’ Draper’s tone was curt.
Noone flashed the standard torch over the photograph revisiting several people, including Draper, who was just caught in focus on the periphery.
‘Slightly out of the shadows there, sir,’ Noone responded with the calmness of a professional card player. ‘Now, watch this,’ he finished as if revealing a full house.
As the first torch was dimmed, and a moment of darkness engulfed them, Noone moved to the second torch. This time the beam was a violet hue and did not light up the photograph as expected. It illuminated symbols that glowed over each of the subjects’ faces as if they had been daubed with miniature masks at a masquerade ball.
Draper’s face was covered with the symbol of what looked like a dog’s head. Its muzzle was angular and the ears pointed skyward. The unknown lady within the picture had the symbol of an eye masking her face with a large curling eyebrow protruding from it. The remaining members simply had triangles framing their faces with the exception of one man, dressed in military uniform and displaying multiple medals, possibly a high-ranking commander. Above his left eye, there was a small crescent moon scar. On top of his face, there was the illuminated head of a bird, a hawk-like predatory raptor.
‘Where was this taken, sir?’ Noone asked.
‘It was a fundraiser for injured officers.’ Draper responded, agitated. ‘I can assure you there were many more people there than this. Worryingly, many more important people than these,’ he confirmed. Draper’s furrowed brow emphasised an uncomfortable concern. He made his way back to his desk, slowly. All the while, Noone switched from the normal torch to the violet torch and then back again, trying to make sense of the symbols and what they could mean. As he did so, the gap in the blinds offered a meagre light show, as flickering white became darkness and darkness in turn became flickering violet light, repeated and repeated, again and again. It was subtle enough that no one would notice, not unless they were watching, which they were.
‘Your thoughts Nathaniel?’ Draper asked.
Noone took a momentary pause. He was sceptical at what Draper’s response would be to what he was about to say and chose his words carefully. If, and only if, these happen to be glyphs –’ Noone began.
‘Not bloody Cairo again, Noone. How many times must we revisit this?’ Draper interrupted abruptly.
Nathaniel was well aware of what people thought of his concerns about Cairo and the past he had left over there, with much of his arm and face, but unabated he continued. ‘I cannot be sure what all this means, sir, but if and I repeat, only if these are glyphs, then you are either the god of the afterlife, which I doubt very much, or someone has put a price on your head. I believe it’s the death-mark of Anubis.’
‘Absolute tosh, Noone!’ Draper exclaimed. ‘I’m sorry, Nathaniel. I find this all a little farfetched. Where did you find this photo, really? Have you lost the plot? Creation of your own imagination, I mean. What is your obsession with Cairo, Nathaniel? I think you need professional help. Maybe Internal Standards?’
‘You seem unnecessarily flustered, sir. It’s just a theory,’ Noone calmly replied. Noone, who had been focusing on the photograph, had failed to see Draper procure a small, hidden, firearm.
Draper rounded the table once more and, switching the main light on behind Noone, he directed the gun at his subordinate and moved back around to his seat. His finger paused over the panic button once again.
‘I only came here to warn you. I thought, given our history, you of all people may understand,’ Noone said. ‘What’s with the gun?’
‘You’ve finally cracked, Nathaniel. I think you need help.’
Draper was within a whisker of pressing the panic button when a red flashing light lit up on his phone. Training the pistol on Noone with his right hand, he picked up the phone with his left. There was a long pause as he listened intently.
‘I see.’ Draper spoke into the phone, and then calmly placed the handset down.
Lowering his gun and his tone towards Nathaniel, Draper stood up abrasively. He walked towards the coat stand and donned a full-length raincoat and tweed flat-cap. He walked towards the bookcase, which stood directly behind his desk. Pulling a specific copy of Dickens’ Oliver Twist, the book released a hidden lock from within the case enabling it to revolve upon a central axis.
‘Come on, Nathaniel. I apologise. We must leave. We’ve been compromised,’ Draper ordered Noone.
Glimpsing over his shoulder at the door he had entered by, to ensure no one was immediately coming for them, Nathaniel Noone stood up, placed the photograph and torches back into this pocket and removed his own hidden revolver. Following Draper’s lead, he disappeared into the bookcase and the tunnel beyond. It was dimly lit with the occasional wall-light every twenty yards or so. After about one hundred yards, they climbed a circular steel stairwell on top of which was a brightly lit exit sign above a plain wooden door.
‘We need to holster our firearms,’ Draper advised Noone. ‘Keep a grip on the trigger, Nathaniel, but hide it from view. I’ve been expecting this. Someone is corrupting the Department from wit
hin and I momentarily thought it was you. I’m sorry.’
Both men slid their hands into their pockets with fingers paused on triggers. Draper reached for the long brass exit handle and they made their way through it.
Squinting as they were greeted by the fluorescent tubing of shop light, they moved along the slender corridor to where a crowd of people had gathered. Draper did not pay any attention to the moans and groans of eager shoppers grumbling about the unavailability of the lift. Instead, he made eye contact with an older woman standing near the commotion, and who was supervising a cha trolley with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. He approached her with Noone.
‘What will it be, love?’ she asked in her cockney accent, inhaling a huge drag of her Capstan full strength.
‘Two teas, please,’ Draper ordered.
‘Sugar?’ she asked.
‘Not today,’ Draper replied. He usually took three in his cuppa.
The woman poured two cups of tea and Draper paid her. Alongside the coins, which ricocheted into her tin, he subtly dropped a folded piece of paper. The cha lady didn’t acknowledge anything out of the ordinary but did stub out her cigarette and marched off to the ‘chinking’ of teacups as she pushed her trolley forward.
Draper allowed her a few moments while he slurped his tea, before following the same route. It led them past several shoppers to a revolving door. He peered outwards intently.
‘Count to fifty, Nathaniel, and then follow me out,’ Draper ordered in a direct tone. ‘Opposite Eros’s fountain, there are two phone booths that sit back to back. I will meet you there. Make sure you count the full fifty.’
Nathaniel nodded, still confused, then nervously stood back from the doors and began his long count to half a century. Draper spun through the doors and alighted into the street outside. It must have been all of 7 or maybe 8 a.m. but it was remarkably busy for a Sunday all the same. Draper bustled his way out. With a flat-cap and raincoat, he was indistinguishable within the crowd and disappeared within moments.