Going Grey

by Karen Traviss

  Either way, shape-shifter or plain mule, whoever had those genes was a thief aiding and abetting another thief. The stolen goods just happened to be very unusual.

  But what were the Braynes getting out of this? It was a question she should have asked herself as soon as she linked the names. She should have stuck to her own rule of following the money. They were rich, they had vast business interests, and this was technology with a massive potential in medical applications. Even the super-wealthy never thought they were rich enough.

  Dru started composing a message to Clare and then realised how hard it was to reveal nothing to her own daughter. It was a long day to kill, even in winter.

  As soon as it was dark, she drove down Forest Road again and checked for lights at the Braynes' house. Someone was in, or at least the lights had been left on. She parked at the viewing point to see what she could pick out with binoculars, but after twenty minutes she accepted that she wouldn't see enough detail. Catching sight of this Ian was going to be as much by luck as judgement.

  She headed back to the hotel. The Byway was better than she'd expected, the kind of small hotel that she might have chosen if she'd still been able to afford vacations. She treated herself to steak for dinner, and over a medium-rare filet she noted a guy at another table checking her out – tall, forties, dark blonde, with an athletic build that didn't quite gel with his business suit.

  Dru risked smiling at him. It was still a novelty to see men who'd have walked straight past her as a mousey brown housewife now at least glance at her as a blonde. Her face was no different, and neither was her body, but it was enough to spark a different chain of behaviour for both the watcher and the watched. He looked slightly embarrassed and smiled back before taking an intense interest in his plate.

  She saw him again in the parking lot a few hours later while she was checking that she hadn't left anything in the car overnight. A noise like something sliding on runners made her look around. He was brandishing a remote key fob as he approached a dark blue Chrysler minivan. He had the stride of a man who walked through people, not her type of guy at all. She locked her car and went back to her room.

  Maybe he was away from his family at Thanksgiving due to an unreasonable boss, fouled-up plans, or even divorce. Dru reflected on the fact that the most conspicuous thing about both of them was that they were alone at a time when most people congregated even with family that they couldn't stand the sight of.

  She hoped Clare was enjoying herself. That was the whole reason Dru had had ended up here, after all: Clare's welfare. She was in the grip of a case that wouldn't let her go, but it had all begun because she needed to keep her job for Clare's sake. If she'd been childless and truly single, answerable to nobody, she wouldn't have stayed with KWA, and she wouldn't be skulking around the Maine countryside when all sane folk were heading home for the holiday.

  It was a sacrifice. It was what any decent parent had to do. Larry might have forgotten that, but Dru hadn't.

  CHALTON FARM, WESTERHAM FALLS

  NEXT MORNING.

  "It's just like being back in the supermarket, Mrs Mike." Rob skimmed through the overnight recordings from more than thirty cameras, daylight and infrared. At least he could access the feeds four at a time on his phone from the comfort of the conservatory sofa with bacon sandwiches and a mug of tea to hand. "I bloody hated checking the CCTV. You wouldn't believe where shoplifters hide stuff."

  Livvie took one of his sandwiches. "I hope you didn't put the food back on sale."

  "If I told you, you'd never eat pork again."

  "Don't, Rob, I want to enjoy this sandwich." Livvie had a throaty, dirty laugh that made things sound funnier than they were. "Are you going to do this every day?"

  "Until we have a head on a spike, yes." The cams facing the wooded parts of the estate had picked up deer. Most of the sensors on the southern side had been triggered by vehicles on Forest Road. It wasn't a busy route, but there were still a lot of individual sequences to check out. "Deer... deer... lorry... oops... do you like venison?"

  Ian wandered into the conservatory and looked over Rob's shoulder. He didn't say anything, but Rob heard the faint change in his breathing. If he'd let that breath out, it would almost have been an oh-dear kind of sigh.

  "Let me check all that," Ian said. "Tom's arriving tomorrow. You need to get stuff ready."

  Rob craned his head back to look him. "All sorted."

  "Don't neglect him to look after me."

  Ouch. "Don't worry, I've had years of practice at doing two things at once. Three, even."

  Rob carried on checking the footage. It wasn't entirely a matter of luck. The location dictated how KWA tackled this, pros or not. There'd be a vehicle recce to check out the place before any activity on foot, which would probably show up as repeated passes by car or bike on Forest Road. That was the only street access. Rob couldn't see the number plates, so he'd have to compare images. One vehicle stood out from the day before, a small silver car that had not only passed the house a few times but had also parked in the lay-by that he'd identified a few days ago. It seemed to have returned to the lay-by for a second night. He had an infrared image.

  "Okay, here's at least one to keep an eye on." Rob opened the file of image captures and compared it. "There. What kind of car is that?"

  Livvie took the phone from him to look. "Chevy Sonic, I think."

  "Does that look like the same one to you?"

  "It does. Is it that simple? Don't you have to spend weeks on this?"

  "Not if they're funnelled into specific places. They've got to use the road if they want to observe from a vehicle. Good old low-tech spook tradecraft – the Mark One Eyeball. And there's no hard drive to incriminate them if they get caught."

  It occurred to Rob that KWA might not have been looking for the kind of evidence that would stand up in court. But that didn't change how he'd handle it.

  "They're not expecting you or Mike," Ian said. "They don't have any idea what you guys can do."

  Rob wasn't sure he knew what kind of support KWA could hire, either, but it was a nice vote of confidence.

  "Yeah, we fight dirty, mate," he said. "Fork in the eyeball job, that's us. I'd better go and tell Mike."

  Mike was pounding the treadmill in the gym, eyes fixed on the wall ahead. Rob held the phone in front of him without saying a word. Mike slowed to a halt and studied the images, wiping beads of sweat off his nose.

  His lips compressed. He could normally keep a lid on his reactions, but his expression hardened muscle by muscle from Nice Quiet Zombie to Mr Silent Angry Bastard.

  "Well, at least we can still think like the enemy." His nostrils flared slightly as he breathed. He was probably still catching his breath, but combined with the tight-lipped expression, he looked like he was about to erupt. "We need to get a look at the driver."

  "Let's talk to Andrews. He might have seen someone hanging around."

  "What are we going to tell him?"

  "What are we going to tell Tom? We still need to sync our cover story." Rob felt obliged to sort this out himself. "I'll pop down and see the old boy myself. I'll think of something on the way."

  He zipped up his jacket as he walked down the drive, rehearsing stories. Okay, they were avoiding someone. Media? Harmless but annoying stalker? Andrews seemed to think that Mike did something sensitive at the DoD or was still serving, so it was easy enough for Rob to do a need-to-know act about not being able to divulge detail. He rapped on the door. It opened fast for anyone, let alone an old bloke.

  "Morning, sir," Rob said, still working it out. "How are you?"

  "I'm fine, Rob. Did she catch you?"

  Jesus Christ. What was he, clairvoyant? "Who?"

  "The woman who called to see Mike yesterday. I told her she'd missed him. She wanted to know when he'd be back."

  Rob had guessed this was coming, but his stomach still knotted. He took out his phone and swiped through to the photo of Dru Lloyd.

  "Wel
l, she didn't come back," he said. "Did she look like this?"

  Andrews studied it, nodding. "I think so. You know her, then?"

  "Sort of. What else can you tell me?"

  "She was driving a small silver Chevy." Andrews paused for a moment, looking up like he was replaying the conversation. "She asked when Mike would be back, I said I didn't know but soon ... oh, yes, I said you and Ian might be in, but she didn't know who you were. So I said she should go knock on the door or leave a note, because I was getting kind of concerned that she was checking if the house was empty for the holidays. You know how people get burglarized while they're away."

  Shit, he'd mentioned Ian by name. She'd know she had the right house, then. Well, it was all academic from the moment that video went public. Rob felt he should have been more surprised, but at least he could predict how she operated. That was something.

  "Okay," he said. "If you see her again, can you call us?"

  "Did I say something wrong? What is she?"

  Rob sidestepped the question. "Nothing wrong at all, sir. It's a big help to know what she's driving."

  Andrews held up his forefinger at Rob to wait while he went back up the hall. He returned clutching a sheet from a phone pad.

  "Here. This is the licence plate, or most of it."

  "Good catch, Mr Andrews." Rob reminded himself never to underestimate old men. "That's very useful. Thank you."

  By the time Rob jogged back to the house, Mike was already waiting on the front steps, looking homicidal and more like his dad than ever. Rob held up the note.

  "Confirmed," he said. "She tried to check us out with Andrews. Here's her number plate. She got the name Ian out of him, but that'll just make sure she tries harder."

  Rob waited for Mike to detonate, but he just took the note and went inside. "Good. That means we can provoke her into doing something dumb. Livvie's locating her."

  Rob wasn't sure what he meant. When he followed him to the study, he found Livvie lounging at Mike's desk with the phone to her ear, gazing at the ceiling as if she was waiting for someone to pick up. She looked at Rob, then jerked to attention and put a finger to her lips.

  "Really? Okay, my apologies. I must have the wrong hotel." She rang off and looked down at a list on the desk, then tapped out another number and sat waiting for an answer. "I'm trawling through local hotels. There aren't that many. She's got to be staying in the area if she keeps coming back."

  "I got her licence plate," Rob said.

  "Sssh ... hi, can you put me through to Mrs Lloyd, please? She might be under a reservation from her company, KW-Halbauer, or under the name Wilson ... no, I don't have her room number. Thank you." Livvie suddenly brightened up, triumphant, and did a thumbs-up. "Okay, thanks." Then she cut off the call.

  "There," she said. "They'll think they lost me when they tried to put me through. She's at the Byway. About ten miles west of us. Forty rooms."

  Mike looked at Rob as if he was inviting suggestions. "I say we pay the hotel a visit, find her car, and slap the GPS on it," he said. "We need her to trespass so I can call nine-one-one, and that'll be simpler to set up when we track her routine for a while."

  "When do you want to do it?" Rob asked.

  "Late tonight. We can move around the parking lot without looking suspicious if we time it for when people leave the bar. About eleven."

  "We better take the Jag, then. It's not been out of the garage for over a week. She won't recognise it."

  "Fine, but Tom's arriving tomorrow," Livvie said. "Are we seriously going to be doing all this while he's here?"

  "We don't have a choice, honey. KWA's set the timetable." Mike stood up and shook his head as if he was disappointed with the state of the world. "I'll keep an eye on the cameras today."

  Livvie looked at Rob as Mike left. "You know there's only one thing that'll lure her in here."

  "Yeah, and Ian will jump at the chance, but we've not planned this yet."

  "What if she's got backup?"

  "I'd take a guess that she's operating alone with someone on standby elsewhere. These buggers normally keep an eye on their target for at least a couple of weeks. But even if she's brought the entire North Korean army, there's only me and Mike to deal with it, and you to hold the fort. We'll have to manage."

  "True. Are you still planning to move into a guest room while Tom's here?"

  "Definitely. It makes it easier to secure the place, too. I'll shift my kit now."

  The simple act of moving from the cottage to the house reinforced Rob's sense of preparing to repel an assault. He hoped his mood didn't percolate through to Tom. But he had no idea what was out there, and it was probably sensible to get Tom to wear a ballistic vest when they went out. How the hell would he explain that? The one thing he could never take for granted over here was that people – men, women, any age, any class – weren't armed. He was more worried about a woman who wasn't used to firearms panicking and squeezing one off, not a trained marksman. That was how you got killed.

  It spoiled his bloody day, that was for sure. Rob counted down the hours until it was time to go, testing his GPS tagging skills in the garage by seeing how fast he could stick the magnetic unit on the Merc. He found an online workshop manual for the Chevy to identify the best spot to place the magnet fast and in the dark. He was still rehearsing the manoeuvre, checking diagrams on his tablet, when he looked up and saw Ian leaning against the door.

  "Need any help?" Ian asked.

  "No, I'm sorted."

  "It's kind of escalating, isn't it?"

  Rob tried to reassure him. "We're just psyching ourselves up, mate. We're only going to visit the hotel and stick a GPS tracker on the car so we know where she is."

  "I should come too."

  "No. This is just routine."

  "If you're going to entrap her, the only lure she'll take is me. I need to be part of this."

  "Yeah, I knew you'd say that."

  "Don't you think I'm capable?"

  "Of course you are."

  "You wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for me."

  "Remember what I said about principals and protection officers?"

  "Sure. Okay."

  "Subject closed. How's your hand?"

  Ian looked down at the dressing. Nothing was ever really closed with him, though. He'd circle back later.

  "It's fine," he said.

  Rob wondered how ordinary people with no self-defence skills or security budget coped with a disgruntled ex or some other bastard lurking in the bushes. If it was getting to him as a professional soldier, then it must have been wearing pretty thin for Ian as well. Livvie seemed to take it as a challenge for her deception skills, though, and wasn't remotely intimidated. Living alone here for months at a time had made her completely nails. She'd probably been pretty tough to start with.

  By the time Rob had moved his stuff and had a meal, it was still only 1900 hours. He went looking for Mike and found him sitting in the security room with the doors slightly ajar, watching the monitors. Rob pulled a chair into the small room and sat next to him. Neither of them said a word for nearly an hour. There was occasional traffic, but it was a quiet night even by Westerham standards.

  "Bike," Rob said, pointing. "Second time."

  "Can't tell if it's the same one." Mike stretched and yawned. "Might just be a return journey."

  It was a long half hour before anything else happened. "Van," Rob said.

  "Have we seen that before?" Mike swivelled his chair and bent down to check a recording. "Yes. An hour ago."

  There was still nothing that warranted immediate attention. Eventually Mike leaned forward and pointed at the feed from the cameras facing the lay-by.

  "She's back," he said. The infrared image of the car was clear, but they couldn't see the driver. "I'm going to take a closer look."

  Rob got up. "No, I'll do it."

  Dru wouldn't keep coming back at night if she was confident doing a recce in daylight. But maybe she had some NV kit t
hey didn't know about.

  "Okay, but you're just going to ID her, right?"

  "Come on, I know what I'm doing, mate."

  Mike looked sheepish. "Sorry."

  Rob realised he'd snapped at him. He was back in Afghanistan for a few inexplicable moments, choked with frustration because he could see some bastards were up to no good, but he had to wait for permission from up the line to engage them. Fuck that. He was never going to let himself be put in that position again.

  "Look, we've already got loads of images, plus Andrews to back us up," Rob said. "We could call Maine's finest right now."

  "No, I need her to do something that looks more threatening than just parking outside," Mike said. "Okay, stay on the radio. I'll warn Livvie and get up on the roof."

  Mike was talking sense. Rob knew it. He made an effort to get his head back in the right place while he kitted up in the utility room. Everything he needed for a night op was in Mike's impressive store at the back of the garage: night vision kit, infrared imaging, camouflage, and radios. He adjusted his earpiece under his wool cap, amused for a moment that the place was so big that he might be out of range at the boundary. If Dru saw him dressed like this, she'd shit a brick.

  "Lights," he said. "Give me five minutes."

  Mike had to temporarily disable the sensors around the house so that the lights weren't triggered. Rob moved between cover, assuming that whoever was out there might be at least as well equipped as he was.

  "In position." Mike's voice was suddenly in his ear. "Glad I wore my thermal lingerie."

  He'd reached the roof faster than Rob expected. It was just as well there weren't neighbours overlooking the property. The sight of a bloke perched up there with a sniper scope would have been a bit worrying.

  "She's still there, yeah?"

  "Confirmed."

  Rob skirted the lawns to the west of the house and headed into the trees, working himself from trunk to trunk and eventually along the wire that separated Mike's land from the neighbouring forest. It was the only clear demarcation of Mike's land, and it wouldn't have deterred a one-legged granny with arthritis. Rob stepped across it. He ended up near the road, looking back towards the lay-by.