Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1)

by Richard Harrington

  ‘You don’t? But Mr Todd, how can that be, because you are security, are you not?’

  ‘Yes ma’am, but the breach, well, it came from here, at the cottage.’

  ‘A breach of security at the cottage, but that’s absurd, Mr Todd, because I’m here.’

  ‘Yes ma’am, I know, but it still came from here, ma’am.’

  ‘I see. Well if you insist on pursuing this, what do you propose to do about it?’

  ‘Well, ma’am, if there’s no harm done, you can sign my report and it’s finished.’

  Angela stared at him, ‘Sign your report, Mr Todd?’

  ‘Yes ma’am, just to say you accept responsibility for the breach.’

  Her liquid brown eyes suddenly became frozen pools of baffled amazement.

  ‘Accept responsibility for a breach of security, here at the Bunker?’

  ‘Yes ma’am.’

  ‘Are you totally insane? Do you really think I would ever do such a thing?’

  ‘But ma’am …’

  ‘No, Mr Todd, this has gone quite far enough. So go away and sort it out.’

  ‘But I can’t, ma’am, it will have been logged on the central computer.’

  ‘I know, Mr Todd, which is why your report will state, that somewhat over zealously you decided to test the Bunker system without authority.’

  ‘But ma’am, I could lose my job, and my pension.’

  Angela half smiled, ‘That of course is perfectly true, but surely, losing your pension must be infinitely preferable to the alternative, wouldn’t you say, Mr Todd?’

  Russell wished he was dead, ‘And what alternative is that, ma’am?’

  ‘Well I’m impressed by your nerve, because there you stand, trying to barter with me after having placed a shotgun to my head for the purpose of raping me, and if my colleague hadn’t been here to save me, you may well have succeeded.’

  Russell stood frozen, but Angela had already turned and was looking back to Lewis.

  ‘It was fortunate you were able to set off the alarm, wasn’t it, Mr Lewis.’

  Frank slowly walked up, and glancing to the guard, knew he was trapped.

  ‘Yeah. I got there just in time.’

  Russell stammered, ‘Well maybe it was my fault, after all.’

  Angela stared at him, ‘Yes, it was, and if you’re lucky, you’ll only lose your pension.’

  Frank watched him walk away to the bushes, and when he heard him throwing up, it became just one more reason why he should get the hell out of this job.

  Closing the door, she walked down the hall, and having double locked the security door, re-set the protruding knot of dark wood before turning with a scowl to Frank.

  ‘You’ve just earned yourself one more chance, but you should take care from now on.’

  ‘Yeah, right. But was it so important that you had to ruin that poor bastard’s life.’

  She looked at him, puzzled, then incredulity came to shine in her eyes.

  ‘Important? Are you mad as well? For god’s sake, I have built an impeccable record with the Continuum, so do you think I would ever let anything spoil it, and you should know this of me, Cardinal is my sacrament, my bread and my wine, and for me, nothing else exists.’

  To Frank, this once beautiful and remote cottage had suddenly become claustrophobic and he needed the sobering calmness of solitude, but as he knelt to put his boots on she watched intently through narrow eyes.

  ‘Going somewhere?’

  ‘Just for a walk, I need some air.’

  ‘Alright, give me two minutes and I’ll put some clothes on.’

  ‘Don’t bother, I’ll be fine on my own.’

  She gave him a hard look, ‘Mr Lewis, you’ve already caused more than enough trouble, and the last thing I need right now, is for you to be accidentally shot by a gamekeeper, so although you can do as you wish tomorrow, I must always be with you today.’

  He felt annoyed, ‘Okay, suit yourself.’

  Angela returned wearing hiking boots, cord trousers, a check shirt and a sweater around her shoulders, and as he stared, she looked back defiantly, ‘Well? Do I pass?’

  He nodded, ‘Yeah, but I hadn’t thought of you as a hiker.’

  She glared at him, ‘And that, Mr Lewis, is because you don’t know me very well.’

  Walking stiffly across the kitchen, she snatched her pack from a hook on the wall, and flinging open the door of the fridge, chose cold roast chicken, smoked ham, mature cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, mayonnaise and tubs of yoghurt, and tearing a baguette in two, loaded everything into the pack along with two bottles of wine and cans of French beer. Slipping cutlery and napkins into a side pocket, she brusquely handed him the backpack.

  ‘It’s been a long day and we’ll both be hungry.’

  He took the pack, and slinging it over his shoulder, their eyes met in what seemed to be a grudging acknowledgement between enemies, but when her brown eyes suddenly softened, he wondered what this new contradiction could mean.

  9

  Sheverill’s Farm was bathed in sunshine as Martha prepared tea and cakes for two, and lifting the tray, made her way through the big old house and up the long stairs.

  Gently turning the handle to the master bedroom, she found all was peaceful except for the softest of rustling coming from the cloistered, four poster bed.

  Peeping through the heavy curtains she saw Miss Christiana bringing her mistress to consciousness by the licking and suckling of her large full breasts.

  As Lucinda slowly became aware of the pleasure, she remembered how they’d met not so long ago and the whirlwind love affair exploding around them, and instead of constantly thinking she was going steadily insane, began to find an inner peace, and although she would never have believed she could feel love for another human being, she’d fallen hopelessly and passionately in love with another woman, her wonderful Chrissy.

  Martha stood beside the heavy curtains and listened to the intimate noises of lovemaking, her smile growing ever warmer.

  The arrival of Miss Levett into their lives had been a mercy for which she would forever be thankful, the past few years of hell now fading away to the promise of harmony.

  Coughing lightly, she lifted the tray, ‘Ma’am, I have your tea, shall I draw the curtain?’

  Lucinda’s drowsy voice came back, ‘Yes please, tea would be wonderful.’

  Martha drew the curtain, and pouring from the big old pot, handed each a cup.

  ‘And I’ve cream cakes too, if you’d like them.’

  ‘Oooh yes. Martha, you’re an angel.’

  Watching them share a cream cake, she walked away as happy as Christmas.

  ‘More cakes,’ declared Christiana, and bounding out of bed, ran to catch Martha.

  ‘Oh Martha, did you manage to find any of the papers we talked about?’

  ‘No Miss, and I did look, really I did, but everything seems to be gone.’

  Christiana sagged, ‘Oh, that’s a real shame, but is there nowhere else to look?’

  Martha shivered as she thought of the priest hole, ‘Well there is one place left.’

  Frank let Angela walk on alone, but reaching the bridge, she stopped and turned.

  ‘So where would you like to walk, through the woods or across the meadow?’

  He gestured off hand towards the big old house, ‘That way will do.’

  She sniffed when she saw the resentful look in his eyes, and the hardness of his body.

  ‘Look, I know you don’t want me with you, it’s written clearly enough on your face, but you can’t go wandering around this part of the estate on your own. Okay?’

  He shrugged, ‘Fair enough. So let’s go.’

  Angela stiffened, ‘You think I’m a cow, don’t you, for giving that guard a hard time, well you don’t know the half of it, because at this level, survival comes first.’

  He smiled cynically, ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘You bastard. It was you who caused all the frigging trouble in th
e first place, and if you hadn’t gone snooping around, none of this would have happened.’

  ‘But that’s what you’re paying me for, isn’t it, and it isn’t my fault if a boy scout could find his way into your strong room, and look what happened when the alarm did go off, your useless guard just wandered up to the cottage like Mary bloody Poppins when all kinds of hell could have been going on inside.’

  Angela stood back on her heels and glared at him, but Frank wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Jesus Christ, you call this place, The Bunker, but let’s face it, the average frigging whorehouse has better security than this place, and you tell me to be careful …’

  Angela turned to stone, but as he watched, the light in her eyes suddenly changed.

  ‘Yes, and unfortunately you’re right, I can see that now. I seem to have lived for so long with mind games, I’ve lost track of the fundamentals.’

  Frank was surprised by her honesty, and anyway, who the hell was he to criticise her.

  ‘Angela?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I had no right to speak like that, or at least, not with my history.’

  ‘Oh, that’s alright, I’m sorry as well, and it’s funny, we seem to be two of a kind.’

  She laughed as if making fun of the situation, but her soft voice had a hollow ring.

  ‘Dear god, if my ladies could hear me now, they’d think I’d totally lost the plot.’

  Walking on in silence, she seemed to be more relaxed, but later, as they rose to the crest of a hill, she stopped abruptly when the huge old house came into view, and tugging at his sleeve, sat down in the long meadow grass.

  ‘This is about as far as we can go.’

  She pointed to the security wire, some way ahead, ‘We don’t want the dogs out.’

  He looked, and slipping the backpack from his shoulder, passed it down to her.

  ‘Angela, tell me. Is all this, MoD property?’

  ‘Not exactly, but it is MoD, Ministry of Defence, inside the wire.’

  ‘And out here?’

  She looked around, and unclipping the pack, took out two cans and handed him a beer.

  ‘This area is controlled by a different organisation. My own, actually.’

  He guessed they were in a buffer zone which made the old house something special, and running his eye over the estate, saw various buildings and a tree lined car park, and although only the back of the grand old house was visible from here, he guessed it was probably eighteenth century, and certainly impressive, being five levels high and hundreds of yards long, but the heli-pad looked out of place.

  Off to his right he saw two gamekeepers patrolling the buffer zone in an open topped Land Rover, and from inside the wire, the black clad figure of an armed MoD guard came into view, and by his side was a powerful patrol dog.

  The high level of security reminded him of the research establishment at Porton Down and he wondered what naughty secrets this place held, but then it all made sense.

  ‘Of course.’

  Angela nudged him, ‘Could I have a cigarette?’

  He sat down, handed her the packet and opened his beer.

  ‘That old house. It’s Thornley Manor, isn’t it.’

  She looked surprised, ‘What a clever boy. Now if you can be just as clever tomorrow, I might be persuaded to forget certain things. So would you like to eat now?’

  Angela laid out the picnic, and as they ate, looked over the house and grounds.

  ‘You’ll meet Tara Goodwin tomorrow, and if you remember, she’s the head of security, and it’s all rather odd really, because not only was she installed here, just a year ago, but it could almost appear that dear old MI5 was obliged to place her here.’

  Frank saw the flash in her eyes, ‘So? Is that significant, to the investigation, I mean.’

  Angela smiled, ‘Yes, I rather think it might be, and although it’s true she’s a bright little thing, I doubt if intellect is the main reason for her popularity.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well for goodness sake, she’s nothing more than a child, but having said that, it’s probably the reason why all the men like to screw her.’

  Frank’s thoughts darkened, ‘Now is that a fact.’

  ‘Oh yes, and let’s face it, I doubt if the legendary accomplishments of the Lady MacLeod school of thought will have been wasted on dear old Spook 5.’

  ‘And who, or what, is the Lady MacLeod School?’

  Angela smiled saucily, ‘Mata Hari, or Lady MacLeod, she was a World War 1 spy who gathered intelligence through the art of seduction, the oldest game in town.’

  ‘And you think that’s what Tara Goodwin has been up to?’

  ‘Almost certainly. Now take Robin Sheverill for example, he was screwing her for almost a year, and that’s interesting, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well the involvement could be, but they might just have been lovers.’

  ‘True, except that Freddie Bromsgrove had also been screwing her for almost a year.’

  ‘Ahh. Now that is interesting.’

  ‘Yes, I thought so, and especially as good old Sir Freddie Bromsgrove was her uncle.’

  Frank choked on his beer, ‘Jesus. So is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘Only that the bright little thing is now a very worried little bitch. But I do confess to being intrigued by her, but that’s not altogether surprising when one considers the facts.’

  ‘And they are?’

  ‘Well our Miss Goodwin is a very complex young lady, and at one time I considered offering her a place in Cardinal. She seemed ideal for my Diplomatic team.’

  ‘So why didn't you?’

  ‘Oh, I simply couldn’t take the chance, not with her being quite so heavily involved with other agencies, and it was a great pity, I could have moulded her perfectly for the American market.’

  ‘And what’s so special about her?’

  ‘Special? My goodness, where on earth would one start.’

  The light in Angela’s eyes flickered as thoughts and memories returned in a torrent.

  ‘Well, she’s quite young, and tiny to the point of being petite, she’s very well spoken, well educated, and whilst she has the quite beguiling looks of an elf angel, she also has the intellect of an Einstein.’

  Frank sat quietly as he tried to keep up.

  ‘But what I find particularly interesting, or rather, perplexing, is that she manages to combine the psyche of a child with the sexual morals of an alley cat, and it’s all very odd, she seems to be able to flip effortlessly between two parallel personas, from an angelic Einstein to a disgusting child whore.’

  Frank became puzzled as he tried to visualise her.

  ‘And so, if one considers all that, and combines the fact that her lovers, who just happen to be our players, are dying before we have the chance to unravel this mess, I think you’ll agree that Tara Goodwin is indeed rather special.’

  He lit a cigarette, ‘Yeah. Well I sure wouldn’t argue with that.’

  As Frank tried to form a picture of Tara Goodwin, he realised the concept was all wrong.

  The head of security at an MoD top security station should be an MoD, senior officer.

  So what was MI5 playing at?

  ‘But we both know MI5 shouldn’t have put her here, so what’s that all about?’

  ‘Exactly, and unusually for me, I haven’t been able to figure out their game, because apart from her sexual involvement, she’s so bloody clean she squeaks, so it occurred to me, if you were to screw her, you might find out what the hell’s going on, and as I’m given to understand she’s quite a gymnast in bed, you shouldn’t find it too much of a hardship.’

  Frank’s dark thoughts strayed back to Emily at the care home. She was used just for sex, as if she had no other value.

  ‘So that’s about it, unless there’s anything more you need to know about her.’

  When he stayed silent, she looked around and saw the solid, grim line of his
jaw.

  ‘What’s wrong? What did I say?’

  He wanted to change the subject, ‘Oh nothing. But something is bothering me.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘The Continuum. So who, or what, is that?’

  Angela became instantly rigid, her face frozen, her deep brown eyes distant and icy.

  ‘And who, may I ask, has dared to inform you of that name?’

  ‘You did.’

  ‘I did? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, what do you think I am, crazy?’

  ‘Well I’m sorry, but you did.’

  ‘You’re mad. So when am I supposed to have committed this act of lunacy?’

  Studying her closely he noticed that her rock solid composure was slipping away.

  ‘It was in the cottage when I asked if it was necessary to ruin that guard’s life, and you said you had a perfect record with the Continuum and you wouldn’t let anything spoil it, and I remember because I expected you to say, a perfect record with the Chiefs of Staff.’

  Angela frowned, and when the memory finally returned, she laughed, unnaturally loud.

  ‘But I did say the Chiefs of Staff, and you misheard me. You did, didn’t you …’

  He almost felt sorry for her, the chink in her armour having exposed her fear, and now there was a strange pleading light in her eyes that was almost pathetic.

  ‘Yeah. Okay. Maybe I did …’

  A quiet awkwardness came around them, with him in thought while she flicked her gaze to him and sipped the wine till it was gone. It was as though they both knew he’d seen through her defences, and later, relaxing back in the meadow grass, she breathed deeply till the brilliance of the sun closed her eyes and she began to drift away into sleep.

  Looking at her, he thought how beautiful she was, but as his gaze was drawn to the swelling of her breasts, he stood up to walk away, and she murmured dreamily to him.

  ‘Now don’t stray too far, or mother will smack.’

  Wondering what the Continuum might be, he wandered away up the slight hill, and gazing out across the rolling meadows, saw something indistinct and far away.

  At first it seemed to be just a small copse of trees standing alone in the vast meadow, but looking more closely, saw there was something else that looked like the spire of a church standing lonely above the trees, but why should there be a church way out here in the buffer zone, and he knew what Monty would say.