by Nick Albert
“Not that it matters now Eric, but I didn’t have any agenda. It was just another contract.”
“But why?”
Cartwright shrugged.
“Why does anyone want anything done? In the end, it always comes down to money and power. In his case it was his ridiculous insistence in following his True Democracy idea.”
Cartwright sat on the edge of the desk, casually holding the gun.
“After that talent show got so many votes using his idea, it was clear that True Democracy had become a real threat to some career politicians. We were tasked with discrediting him, but it had to be done in a way that would make any of his ideas permanently unpalatable. Unfortunately he took the cowards’ way out.”
“You sick…” Stone started to rise, but he stopped when Cartwright raised the gun again. “You cold bastard! Charles Rathbone was a hero.”
“Now, now, Eric. There’s no need for name calling.” He waved at the building with a sweep of his hand. “This is just…business.”
“Who paid?” Stone demanded, his anger brimming just under the surface. “Was it Heathfield?”
Cartwright looked genuinely surprised.
“Sir Harold Heathfield? How on earth did you figure that out?”
“He’s one of the trustees at Second Chances.”
“I’m impressed.”
Then Cartwright frowned as a thought entered his head.
“Incidentally, how did you find me?”
“Huggermugger,” Stone said.
Cartwright smiled to himself.
“Oh, well done! You really are quite bright. I never thought that anyone would spot that.”
Stone said nothing; he was staring at Linda. She remained frozen in her original position. Cartwright followed his gaze.
“Tell me about Linda, you seem to be quite struck with each other.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Oh come on Eric, indulge me. Otherwise…” He waved the gun again.
“What’s to tell? She’s clever, funny, and beautiful and I love her.”
Stone noticed that for an instant, Linda’s eyes flicked in his direction, before returning to stare at the wall opposite.
“You love her?” Cartwright asked incredulously, “But you’ve just met.”
“I can’t explain it. I just know that I love her, more than anyone I have ever known. And she loves me.” Stone saw Linda’s eyes flicked in his direction again, this time for a little longer.
“Eric…Eric…Eric, you don’t even know her,” Cartwright said as if he were admonishing a naughty child.
“I know her well enough,” Stone said defensively.
“Do you?” Cartwright asked with an overtone of disbelief, “Do you really?”
“I think I do,” Stone said firmly.
Standing to one side, Cartwright smiled wickedly. Then like a master of ceremonies, introducing the next act, he dramatically swept his arm towards Linda.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce the best assassin in the world…I give you The Chameleon!”
Stone felt an electric bolt shoot through his body. He stared in disbelief at Linda. She continued to look blankly at the wall, but now her face showed the pain of some dreadful inner turmoil.
“It can’t be!” he whispered in shock.
Cartwright’s face was a picture of glee.
“Oh, but it is.”
“But the Chameleon’s a man,” Stone pleaded, “I read it, it’s in the file.”
Cartwright shook his head.
“Chameleon can be whatever, and whoever, I need her to be. She’s a master of disguise — hence the name.”
“Linda?” Stone pleaded, “Linda please, tell me it isn’t true,”
She didn’t move.
“She can’t hear you,” Cartwright said, “Right now she’s totally in my control.”
“What madness is this? Linda, look at me!” Stone shouted.
Again, she didn’t move, but the inner turmoil was becoming more obvious. Eric thought he could see tears running down her face.
“It’s not madness — although I suspect the people who created her were,” Cartwright said with a strange hint of sadness.
“I don’t understand.”
Cartwright checked his watch again and sighed.
“Well, I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you. This…” he gestured towards Linda, “is not Linda Smart. This is Chameleon. It is an assassin created by the Bulgarian secret service. I don’t have all of the gruesome details of how they did it, but as it was explained to me, it started with a little orphan girl being rescued from a State institution. The two men who sold her to me did some pretty sick and unpalatable things, to create and train Chameleon. Think of the assassin as a sort of evil twin living unseen inside Linda Smart.”
“Unseen?” Eric managed to ask shakily.
“Yes, it’s quite a remarkable achievement really,” Cartwright said, “the Linda Smart that you claim to know so well, doesn’t have a clue that she is Chameleon. In fact she believes her alter-ego to be her twin sister.”
Stone said nothing.
“Apparently they don’t get along,” Cartwright joked, “Actually, as far as I can tell, Linda knows nothing about Chameleon, and visa-versa.”
“How is that possible?” Stone asked.
“Think of it like hypnosis, although a lot more sophisticated than making someone cluck like a chicken. You see, I have the trigger. It’s just a word, but I’m the one person who knows it. Once I’ve used it, Linda Smart’s brain goes to sleep and my assassin wakes up. Once her mission is complete, Chameleon fades into the background and Linda Smart wakes up again — none the wiser.”
He looked at Linda and smiled benevolently.
“I spoke that trigger word earlier, that’s why Chameleon is awake now. Normally I would give my instructions by telephone, this is the first time I have used the trigger face-to-face. The effect is really quite remarkable.”
“You mean that Linda had no idea that this ‘Chameleon’ was living inside her?” Stone asked.
“None whatsoever! She’s the perfect assassin — hiding in plain sight,” Cartwright said with unconcealed pride, “And Chameleon has never failed to complete an assignment. At least until Linda met you.”
“What do you mean?” Stone asked, his curiosity exceeding his anger.
“She was sent to kill you outside some pub in Essex. You were supposed to be accidentally stabbed in a scuffle with a couple of muggers, but something went wrong. I sent my Chameleon out and she never came back.”
Cartwright leaned forward and gently caressed her hair. Stone had to make a huge effort not to jump up and try to attack. He knew he had to wait for his opportunity.
“Linda was being attacked — I saved her, that’s how we first met.”
“Yes, it’s most odd — Chameleon has no recollection of the event at all. It seems that you had quite an effect on her.”
Cartwright gave a little smile as he sat back onto the edge of the desk.
“Actually, this has all been most fortuitous. You see, I had only ever seen Chameleon once. It was on the day that I purchased her. As her owner, I had to keep my distance — for obvious reasons — so I allowed her to create her own life, far away from me. When I needed her services, all I needed to do was call her up and say the trigger word. I was going to leave her behind, along with most of my other possessions, but then I saw her in a photograph with you — and I knew I had to have her. She really is quite beautiful.”
Stone suddenly had a cold realisation.
“You’re taking Linda with you?”
“Of course I am, Eric. After all, she is my property, bought and paid for.”
“But you can’t!” Stone pleaded.
“Oh, but I can — and I will!”
“She won’t go.”
“Chameleon will do whatever I tell her to do. And in time, so will Linda Smart.”
“She would die first!” Stone spat.
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“Whatever.”
Cartwright shrugged dismissively. He aimed the gun at Stone and checked his watch again.
“I’m sorry Eric, but I’m growing tired of this conversation, and now your time is up — quite literally. Please put your hands behind your head.”
Stone stared hard into Cartwright’s eyes, but then he complied. He had no other choice.
“My Linda won’t go — I know it!” Stone said with as much conviction as he could muster.
Cartwright considered his comment, weighing it up in his head.
“You’re wrong, Eric. She will do exactly as I say. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.”
He turned towards Linda and spoke very clearly. “Chameleon, take this gun and kill Eric Stone.”
Linda turned towards Cartwright and slowly reached for the gun. For a moment, Stone saw that he had an opportunity to charge, but somehow he was unable or unwilling to attack Linda. Like an automaton, she slowly turned the gun towards Eric.
“Linda,” he pleaded, “you don’t have to do this!”
The gun wavered very slightly.
“Chameleon!” Cartwright said firmly, “You have my instructions — now do as I have asked.”
The gun swung back towards Eric. Linda’s eyes were wet with tears.
“Linda!” Stone pleaded again. “Don’t do this. I love you and you love me — for your own sake, don’t do it!”
The tears were flowing freely now, and her lips were moving silently. Over and over, she seemed to be mouthing ‘I love you’. For the first time Cartwright realised that he might be losing control, he thumped Linda on the shoulder to gain her attention and screamed into her ear.
“Chameleon, I am your master. You must do as I say. SHOOT THE BASTARD!”
Linda locked eyes with Eric. He realised that they were no longer the dull lifeless eyes of Chameleon, but the bright emerald green eyes of Linda Smart.
“Shoot the bastard?” she asked.
“SHOOT THE BASTARD!” Cartwright screamed in her ear.
“Shoot the bastard?” she asked again, looking deep into Eric’s eyes.
Praying that he was right, Stone nodded and spoke a single word.
“Yes.”
Linda turned the gun towards Cartwright and fired. Stone sprang to his feet and quickly grabbed the gun from her unresisting fingers. He swung around to point the weapon at Cartwright, but there was no need. He lay on the floor in a spreading pool of his own blood. The bullet had struck his neck from the side, destroying his windpipe. A steady stream of arterial blood spurted from the opposite side of his throat. His lips were moving as he attempted to form words, but there was no sound. Stone leaned forward and made eye contact.
“Charles Rathbone was a war hero, and my friend. This is his retribution.”
Soon the blood slowed and The Fixer lay dead. For the first time in days, Eric Stone relaxed. Like a snake without its head, the Wrecking Crew was no more. It was over.
***
Stone gently slipped his arm around Linda’s shoulder and pulled her close. She turned and looked at him with tear-reddened eyes.
“Eric, you came!”
Linda looked around in confusion, she gasped when she saw Cartwright’s bloody corpse.
“Oh my God! What happened?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll explain later. For now you’re safe — that’s all that matters.”
He held her tightly and kissed her head.
“I love you, Linda Smart.”
Linda hugged him back.
A Scottish voice spoke from the doorway.
“Drop yer gun, or I’ll shoot ye deed.”
Stone’s shoulders slumped. He realised that he had forgotten about the skinny man that had been smoking at the front of the house. With a sigh of resignation, he dropped the gun.
“Turn around,” Gordon McIntosh said.
Linda and Stone slowly turned to face the door. As they did, Stone casually removed his hand from Linda’s shoulder and surreptitiously searched the desk behind for anything that he could use as a weapon. His fingers closed around something that seemed heavy and made of glass. It felt like a large paperweight, not an ideal weapon, but a good projectile. He decided that it would have to do. If he was going to save Linda, he had to do something, even if it cost his own life. It was time to act. Stone smiled and pointed to the door behind the skinny Scotsman.
“Look, a duck!” he said.
“What?” Gordon frowned, temporarily confused.
“DUCK!” Stone shouted, as he shoved Linda aside and simultaneously threw the weapon.
The Kilner jar sailed across the room and shattered against Gordon’s gun — showering him in liquid. Instantly aware of the lethal chemicals on his clothes, the Wrecking Crew’s arsonist tried desperately to rub them off. After a few seconds, he realised that there was no fire, and with a self-conscious smile, he again pointed the gun at Eric.
“It looks like I got lucky,” he said. “It must have been a bad batch of—”
There was a blinding flash of light as the chemicals dripping to the floor finally mixed to a critical formula. Gordon screamed horribly and tried to run outside, as the flames engulfed his body. In his panic, he missed the door, colliding heavily with the wall. He staggered backwards and then fell to the ground. The heat from the flames was incredible. Stone pulled Linda behind the desk for cover and looked around desperately for some means of escape. The fire was spreading rapidly, fuelled by air from the open door. In seconds it had already engulfed the entire width of the office, thick smoke was billowing across the ceiling. To Stone there seemed to be no escape, but Linda pulled his arm and pointed to the bookcase behind the desk.
“There’s a door!” she said.
“Where?”
“Look.” She pointed to a slightly worn arc on the plush office carpet. “There must be a secret door.”
Stone jumped forward and started to tug desperately at the shelves, but the door would not move. He could feel the radiated heat of the fire burning his back and hair.
“There must be a hidden catch,” Linda shouted above the roar of the flames.
Stone searched frantically, but he could find nothing. He began kicking at the shelves but they seemed impervious to even his most powerful strikes.
“I’ve found it!” Linda yelled from under the desk, “There’s a switch under here.”
She flicked the switch and the door swung smoothly open. It was the door to a small room, no more than a cupboard, containing some office supplies and a little safe. Stone looked at the flames and shrugged, it would have to do. He grabbed Linda by the hand and dragged her inside. There was no internal handle, so Eric couldn’t quite pull the door shut, but at least it provided some protection from the searing heat of the fire.
“We need to get out of here!” Linda said as the smoke started to seep around the door.
The fire outside was now so fierce that the cupboard was brightly lit. Stone thumped each of the walls in turn, but they were all constructed from solid brick. He quickly searched along the shelves but the only tools he could find were pens, pencils, and a stapler. He looked up — and hoped. Bracing his feet against the shelves on either side, he climbed up until he could reach the ceiling. He gave it an experimental thump with his fist, it sounded hollow. It was plasterboard.
“Cover your eyes,” he told Linda, as he began punching the ceiling.
With each blow, his hand went clean through the plasterboard. After ten punches, he had made a neat square of holes. He pushed his hand through the gap, and began ripping the plaster and insulation down. In thirty seconds, he had created a hole about the size of a small suitcase.
“Climb up!” He offered Linda his hand.
With his help, she shimmied up the shelves and squeezed into the hole. Eric put his hand on her bottom and with a mighty shove, pushed her through. A moment later, she reached down and grabbed his hand. Stone was bigger by half, but with Linda’s help, he squeezed through the
narrow gap.
Lying flat on the insulation, he glanced around and quickly decided their situation had not measurably improved. They were in the narrow loft space of the bungalow, just a few feet above the raging fire. Already, smoke and flames were creeping through the insulation.
“That way.” Stone pointed to the far end of the loft. “It’s away from the fire — for now.”
They belly-crawled the twenty metres across the rafters, to the gable-end wall of the bungalow.
“Now what?” Linda asked coughing, the smoke was already making their eyes water.
“Now we go outside.”
Stone lay on his back on the rafters and braced his legs against the roof above. He started to stamp his feet on the felting. At first, his efforts seemed futile, but soon he felt one of the wooden tile batons break, then a second. With each shoulder firmly braced against one of the rafters, he gave a mighty shove with both feet. There was a clatter of breaking tiles as he broke through. He kicked twice more to enlarge the space, and then motioned Linda to climb through the hole. She needed no further encouragement, and he quickly followed her through the billowing smoke and out onto the roof. From there it was a simple matter of hanging from the guttering and dropping the short distance to the grass below.
Five minutes later, Ed Carter found Linda and Eric jogging hand-in-hand along the road. As they climbed into the car, he thought that they both seemed very happy. They had driven less than a mile when the sky behind was illuminated by a huge thermite fireball.
***
As the morning sun rose over the misty Berkshire countryside, a lone man was picking his way through the ashes of Huggermugger. It seemed to him that there was nothing to find. Because of the remote location, the fire had burned undetected throughout the night. The incredible heat of the thermite, combined with the heating oil and gasoline, had destroyed everything.
Sir Harold Heathfield had come to the house that morning to collect his refund from Simon Cartwright, but that was obviously not going to happen. He stood by his car and surveyed the debris. There wasn’t much to see. The heat from the fire had been so intense that even the cars had been reduced to unrecognisable puddles of melted metal. Clearly, any organic matter was carbon and dust. Sir Harold decided that he had no need to worry. Any evidence that could have led to his door, were now just ashes blowing in the wind.