The Power of One

by Jane A. Adams

  Abe nodded, ‘I’ll drive out, circle round, park up again at the end of the road. Bell me if they move.’

  He left by the back door and through the entry between houses, turned without glancing down the road and returned to his car. Driving past the watchers, he glanced into his rear-view mirror. Two men, thirties, clean shaven and short haired. One wore a short-sleeved shirt, the other a dark T-shirt. Abe didn’t recognise them but he knew the type. Not so long ago he had been one of them. Maybe, he thought, he still was. One of the dispossessed, trying hard to construct a new role after twenty-odd years of having it defined for him.

  He drove on down the block, but there was no sight of Lyndsey. He turned left at the end of the road, preparing to swing round and back almost to where he parked before. He dare not make another circuit. He would be noticed; he would have noticed and he had no reason to believe they would be any different.

  His mobile buzzed. ‘You just missed her.’

  Abe swore. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Fifty yards, maybe, from the car. They must have seen her. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Nothing. Stay put and don’t expose yourself. I may need you later.’

  He rang off before his friend could argue, accelerated round the last corner and into Lyndsey’s street. He could see her now, walking with her head down, shoulders slightly hunched, utterly unaware. The two men were out of the car. He undid his seat belt, knowing it would restrict what he had planned.

  Lyndsey paused, preparing to cross the road, hesitating as she saw his car, and waited, perched on the edge of the kerb, for him to go by. Abe put his foot down, passing the two men in the car, aware of their reaction as his vehicle was recognised as one which had passed before. He screeched to a halt next to the young woman, reached across and opened the passenger-side door.

  ‘Get in!’

  She stared stupidly at him. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m a friend of Ian’s. Get in.’

  Startled, scared, she began to back away. Abe swore again. ‘Fuck it, girl, look up the street. See those two, you do not want to be tangling with them. Now get your bloody arse inside!’

  Bewildered, she stared at him, then looked up the street, and saw the men. ‘Who …’

  ‘In!’ The watchers had begun to run, Abe knew it would take only seconds to close the distance.

  Suddenly, Lyndsey knew it too. She chose, dived into the car, slamming the door even as Abe accelerated away, turning right this time and speeding down a side road, praying no one would step out from between the parked cars.

  ‘Put your seatbelt on and hold tight.’

  ‘Who the hell are you? Who the hell are they?’

  ‘Ian and I served together. Like I said, he was a friend of mine. Now, keep your head down, and pray we can outrun them.’

  She stared at him, eyes scared and wide, face pale. Something seemed to occur to her. ‘Was it you I phoned or was it them? Was it them?’

  ‘Girl, I don’t have a clue what you’re on about.’ He glanced in the rear-view, and swerved the wrong way into a one-way street. Halfway down he pulled into a parking spot between two other cars, cut the engine and slid down in the seat. ‘Keep down!’

  ‘Why … why have we stopped?’ She moved a hand towards the door handle and Abe hit the button on the driver’s-side door, engaging the child lock.

  ‘Don’t even think about it.’ He watched in the rear-view mirror for their pursuers’ car to go by, then started the engine again and pulled out cautiously. He drove down the remainder of the one-way street and out on to another densely residential road, blessing the fact that traffic was almost non-existent and there would be no one to remember a car emerging the wrong way from a one-way street.

  He turned right again at the end of the road, heading for the centre of town.

  ‘Where are we going? Where are you taking me?’ Her voice shook, her hands clutched spasmodically at the strap on her bag.

  ‘Somewhere safe. We’ll work it out from there. Look, Ian thought a lot about you. I promised him, if anything happened, I’d do my best to look out for you. That’s what I’m trying to do. I’m sorry I had to scare the pants off you to do it, but believe me, you’d be a damn sight more scared by now if I’d not been there.’

  ‘Should I believe you? How did you know? Who were they and I mean, who the hell are you?’

  He was watching the traffic in his mirrors, anxious and wary. So far, they seemed clear, but Abe would be much happier once more distance had been put between them. ‘First, you’ve no reason to believe me; not much choice, either. Second, I’ve had a friend keeping an eye on you. He tipped me off, as it was, but it was all a bit too little, too late. Third, my name’s Abe Jackson. Ian probably called me Lincoln. His idea of a joke.’

  She blinked, nodded, recognising the name. ‘How do I know you’re who you say you are?’

  ‘Right now you don’t. You want me to take you home? There’s a third man holed up in your place. Sure he’d be happy to meet you.’

  ‘No! I mean, no. I don’t want that. I …’ Her eyes widened again. ‘What about Jen and Suze?’

  ‘Jennifer, as I understand it, doesn’t finish work until one. They’ll be long gone by then and I’ll call the local police, report a prowler, just to be sure. Suze stays over at her boyfriend’s house on a Tuesday night. Any reason to expect she won’t this week?’

  ‘How do you know all that?’ She had calmed down a bit but now the level of fear had risen again.

  ‘I know because Ian told me. He said Tuesday was the only evening it was worth meeting at your place. The only evening you had it to yourself. I don’t think he was a fan of Suze, though he seemed to think Jen was salvageable.’

  ‘Salvageable?’

  ‘Not a complete waste of space. He thought they were both airheads, though that’s not quite the adjective he used.’

  ‘He told you a lot about me,’ she said quietly.

  ‘He liked you. More than liked you. Lyndsey, you were the first woman I’d ever known him be serious about. I was one of his oldest friends, of course he talked about you. I told him he should break it off until the job was over. He said he was going to try, but to tell the truth, I don’t think he was doing anything more than humouring me.’

  ‘He did try,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t understand. Then …’

  ‘Then it was too late. I know. What I don’t know is what they want with you and that, girl, is what we are going to find out.’

  Twice Abe glimpsed what he thought was their pursuers’ car. Once at a crossroads and once three cars behind in a queue of traffic. Each time he told her to get down on to the floor and she crouched miserably in the footwell, fear exuding from every pore. Abe could smell it on her, acrid and familiar and he was disturbed and a little relieved to find that, in contrast, he was absolutely calm. He had gone beyond the adrenaline rush, the tension, the – almost – stage fright that he associated with the preparation for combat. Beyond that and into a kind of steady state mode of clear thought and something close to enjoyment. He knew himself, knew his enemy, knew what to do and that was all there was.

  He was, though, profoundly glad to be out of the town and on to darkening country roads.

  ‘You can get up now.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She was scared enough for her voice to shake and she was pale with shock.

  ‘I’m sure.’ They’d had the advantage of surprise this time, and squeaked clear. Abe knew they would not be so lucky another time. His phone rang and she jumped. ‘It’s all right, just my friend checking in.’

  They spoke briefly, Abe assuring him that they were all right, learning that the third man had left Lyndsey’s building. ‘Clear yourself out of the flat, don’t either of you go anywhere near the place again. I’ll be in touch.’

  He rang off. ‘You have a mobile with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Take the SIM card out, chuck the rest out of the window.’ He smiled at her. ‘Open it firs
t.’

  ‘Throw my phone away?’

  ‘Yes. Look, girl, modern phones carry a GPS tracker. If they have your number, you only have to make a call and they can track you.’

  She shook her head. ‘I know that’s possible, but that’s high-tech stuff. They won’t have …’

  ‘Yes, love, they will. They do.’

  ‘Then I won’t make any calls.’

  He sighed. ‘You might say that, might even believe it but truly, you have that temptation, you’ll give into it sooner or later. Besides, some phones can be traced even if they’re not turned on. I don’t want to take that risk.’

  ‘And what about your phone?’

  ‘Pay as you go, not registered, and I change it every few days.’

  He watched from the corner of his eye as she took the phone from her bag. This was crunch time, the final act of trust and letting go. She stared at it for several moments and then opened up the back and removed the SIM. ‘I suppose that makes it harder to trace if someone finds it. Not having a SIM card, I mean.’

  ‘Not foolproof, but it helps.’

  She wound the window down and tossed the phone without a second look. ‘Happy now?’ She sounded angry, bitter, her voice thick with tears.

  ‘Not happy, no. I won’t be happy until we’ve sorted this.’ He tried to inject a more sympathetic tone in to his voice, understanding that she needed this but aware that it was not quite his forte. ‘Look, we hide out tonight and we talk, try to sort out what’s going on. Tomorrow, well, we’re going to need some help and it’s a question of who we can trust and how far and, I know this isn’t easy for you but …’

  ‘Isn’t easy!’ Her voice cracked, almost squeaked with outrage.

  Maybe, he thought, his attempts at sympathy had misfired. Maybe he was even worse at it than he’d thought.

  ‘Isn’t easy. You grab me off the street, you make me throw away my phone. You claim to be a friend of Ian’s, you …’

  ‘Saved your life,’ he said harshly. ‘Girl, don’t forget I just saved your life.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  Morning brought developments even before Mac collected Tim for their trip to Manchester.

  Kendal phoned, telling him to switch on the morning news. He caught the local bulletin halfway through and realised that the story had now fully broken. Paul de Freitas had been shot aboard his boat, The Greek Girl, and he had not been alone. Another man had been killed and the rumour was that he too had been shot.

  ‘Police have not yet issued a full statement about the killings.’ The reporter was clearly relishing his moment. ‘Was this a double murder? A murder suicide? At the moment all we can do is speculate …’

  ‘Speculate away,’ Mac muttered under his breath. ‘That’s what the rest of us are doing.’ He muted the television and picked up the phone again and spoke to Dave Kendal.

  ‘Formal statement?’

  ‘Will be going out mid-morning. Yours truly has the job of dealing with the press conference. That’s being timed to coincide with the lunchtime news. Expect Frantham to be awash by then. A double murder is national news.’

  ‘And the official line is?’

  ‘That there are issues of national security here, hence the low-key investigation. We ask our brethren in the media to accept that we can’t issue full details yet and then sit back and let them invent what they like. You never know, one or the other of them might get it right before we do.’

  ‘I imagine Aims is not pleased.’

  ‘Aims is surprisingly sanguine. Handling the media is something he does know how to do, by and large. He’s joining me for the press call, making the main statement and I think the plan is to look grave and impressive while I do my damnedest to answer questions I don’t actually know the answers to.’

  ‘Some people have all the fun. I’ll warn Baker and Andy we’re about to be famous yet again.’

  ‘Oh, Andy enjoys the fuss, you know he does. You’re still going up to Manchester?’

  ‘Any reason I shouldn’t? I can stay if I’m more use here.’

  ‘No, I think you’re best keeping to your plans. The de Freitas’s will need reassurance once they see the news and you never know, the added pressure might jog some memories loose.’

  ‘Do we know how the media got hold of the full story?’

  ‘Oh, Mac, you know as well as I do, dozens of people saw the second body brought ashore. Speculation must have been rampant among the local journos. I imagine one or other of them decided to let the cat out of the bag, just to see how big a cat it was. I’ve no doubt we’ll see some sort of exclusive in the local dailies.’

  Mac considered he was probably right. He made a couple of calls, priming Sergeant Baker and Andy Nevins, then drove round to Rina’s to collect Tim. She had heard the news on the radio.

  ‘Inevitable,’ she said. ‘But it will put the pressure on, Mac, and not just on the investigation. I suspect things will really start to move now.’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Did you get some sleep?’ Abe was frying bacon over the camping stove that Tim had left at the farmhouse.

  ‘Must have done,’ Lyndsey said. ‘I remember looking at my watch at half one and the next thing I knew it was morning.’

  ‘There’s tea over there and the kettle boiled just a few minutes ago. There’s milk in the cool box.’

  She frowned. ‘You’re prepared. How do you know this place anyway?’

  Abe flipped the bacon. ‘You want eggs?’

  ‘Um, yes. Thanks.’

  ‘We have a certain lady called Rina Martin to thank for our accommodation, though she doesn’t know it. She hid Lydia and Edward de Freitas here before a friend of hers came to collect them and take them to a place of safety. I’m sort of hoping she might do the same for you.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Let’s just say I keep my eyes open. Rina knows about this place because of a kidnapping Mac – that’s DI McGregor – was investigating. Long story, but let’s just say I’m taking advantage of their local knowledge.’

  She poured water from the kettle on tea bags and poked them impatiently with a tea spoon. ‘So,’ she said. ‘What now?’

  ‘We ask for help.’

  ‘From this Rina whatshername?’

  ‘Martin. Yes.’

  ‘Why? What is she, some sort of superhero?’

  Abe sighed. He removed the bacon from the pan and broke eggs into the bacon fat, lowering the heat when they began to spit. ‘She is someone who seems able to get things done,’ he said. ‘And the de Freitas’s trusted her; she didn’t let them down. With the possible exception of Inspector McGregor, she’s the only person outside of some of my ex-colleagues that I’d take a chance on.’

  ‘The exception of the Inspector? Why?’

  ‘Because he might well feel obliged to involve others and that is something I’d very much like to avoid. Pass the plates, will you? Just there. And there’s a loaf of bread somewhere, behind the cool box, I think. Good.’

  ‘And what can this woman do that you can’t?’

  Abe raised an eyebrow. From being scared stupid by him last night, she seemed suddenly to have turned him into a potential saviour. ‘Protect you, I hope. Sit down. Let’s eat.’ He sliced bread, passed her the butter and set to with appetite. After a moment’s hesitation she poked at her food and then, as though realising how hungry she was, she began to eat too, falling silent.

  Abe watched her, seeing a little of what Ian had seen. She was pretty, certainly. Loose dark curls softened what might have been a rather too angular face. Bright blue eyes, clouded with deep anxiety the night before, now clearer after sleep and a break from the tension.

  She was clever, Ian had told him. Intelligent and smart too and the two did not always go together. Resilient, Abe decided. She was still scared, yes, but with some food inside of her and a cup of strong tea, life would not look quite so bad.

  Abe was a great believer in the settling effects of bacon, eg
gs and tea.

  ‘Rina, there’s a man on the phone wants to talk to you. Say’s his name’s Abe something or other and you know all about him.’

  Matthew could be a little vague on detail, Rina thought. She put down her dishcloth and made her way through to the hall. Of course she knew about Abe Jackson, but what on earth was he doing calling her?

  ‘Mr Jackson. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Mrs Martin. You can meet me.’

  ‘And why should I do that?’

  ‘Because there’s someone in need of your help and, as I understand it, you’re rather good at that sort of thing.’

  Rina pursed her lips, amused and also somewhat disturbed. ‘What sort of someone?’

  ‘Her name is Lyndsey Barnes. She was one of Paul de Freitas’s closest associates. Mac may have mentioned her to you?’

  ‘He may have done. Mr Jackson, why should I get involved?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, ‘you are now intrigued and because, that is what you do.’

  Rina came to a decision. He was right, of course. ‘When and where? No, I’ll tell you. Noon, at the marina in Frantham Old Town. I take it you can find your way?’

  Abe Jackson rang off and Rina assumed that the meeting had been arranged.

  ‘Rina, you can’t.’

  She frowned, she hadn’t noticed the Montmorencys loitering at the other end of the hall.

  ‘Eavesdropping, Matthew? Stephen? That’s not very polite.’

  ‘Looking after you,’ Stephen countered. ‘Tim isn’t here to do it and neither is Mac.’

  ‘Therefore,’ his brother continued, ‘it falls to us to take their place.’

  ‘And what makes you think I need looking after?’

  The brothers exchanged a look and then Matthew laughed, replying for both of them. ‘Because we all do, Rina dear. That’s just the way it is. Now, get yourself ready. Stephen will stay here and take care of the ladies and I will come with you.’

  Rina looked askance at them. ‘Well, you know how it hurts his knees if he has to walk too far,’ Matthew added, as if that had been her question.