Chapter Sixty
Titchfield Street
Kilmarnock, Scotland
“I want the princess to read me a story, Mommy,” Janine said.
Jean looked down fondly at her four-year-old daughter snuggled up on her lap.
“There are no princesses around here, sweetheart. This is a special school and it’s just for people your age. Isn’t that wonderful? But that’s all it is... a school.”
“I saw her on the telly!” Janine persisted. “She was reading to kids in a school just like this. Why can’t she come here and read me a story, too?”
Jean had enrolled Janine in the preschool program for children of single mothers. Her daughter was about to join twenty-one other children at the Kilmarnock Head Start Centre allowing Lucy to attend a program for abused women. The center had opened two weeks earlier in a rented top-floor suite of offices near Galleon Centre on Titchfield Street, an economically struggling borough in the proud historic city.
“You’re new here aren’t you,” a woman said to Jean, extending her hand. “Welcome. I’m Susan McTavish. I manage this program here for Mary’s House Foundation.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jean said. “I’m Jean Freeman.”
Before they could continue, their attention was drawn to two young men dressed in business suits walking through the door.
Neither woman had ever seen a man dressed in a stylish business suit in Kilmarnock, much less two of them. Their inexperience prevented them from noticing slight bulges under the men’s unbuttoned dark blue suit jackets. One carried what looked like a gym bag.
“Clear,” one of the handsome young men said after looking carefully around the large room. His youthful features and athletic carriage drew admiring looks from every woman in the room. The other man nodded and went out the door. The first man walked over and spoke to Susan, a retired teacher.
“She’ll be here momentarily,” the young man said quietly to Susan, struggling to conceal her nervousness.
Moments later the door opened. An attractive, elegantly dressed young woman entered. A toddler trotted alongside her, tiny fingers grasping the woman’s right hand. A diaper bag and a handbag dangled from the young woman’s left hand.
Susan jumped to her feet and rushed toward the woman and the toddler. The children, their mothers, and the other teachers looked on with surprise.
“My Lady!” she said, making an awkward attempt at an unaccustomed half-curtsey. “We’re so deeply honored by your kind visit! Thank you for coming.”
“Happy to meet you, Susan,” Anne Winston said. “Please call me Anne.” She dropped her bags on a nearby child-size desk and bent down to remove Catherine’s coat. The toddler scurried off to a play area filled with other small children.
“Thank you ever so much for officially opening our school and for agreeing to be interviewed by the news media,” Susan said. “I know interviews must be a bother but it’s such a big help to us.”
“Susan, if meeting with reporters will encourage single moms to take advantage of your wonderful programs, then it’s well worth it,” Anne said. “I’m very excited by what Mary’s House is doing to help abused mothers throughout the United Kingdom! Why don’t we get started with a story or two before the media arrive?”
Susan called out, “Gather round, children! Story time!”
“Yeaaaahhh!” they all cried and swarmed toward Anne and Susan.
Anne noticed a little girl standing a few steps from where she was seated. Janine glanced up at her mother and gestured. Jean leaned down.
“See, Mommy,” Janine said excitedly. “A real princess did come to visit us, just like I said she would.”
Anne overheard the exchange and smiled. “Would you like to sit here?” she said, patting her lap.
Janine looked up at her mother. Jean smiled and nodded. Janine shyly walked over. Anne lifted her onto her lap. Catherine smiled. She was accustomed to all the fuss her mother attracted.
“My family’s favorite stories are about Winnie-the-Pooh,” Anne said. “Would you like to hear one of those stories?”
“Yes!” the children chorused loudly.
“Okay,” Anne said. “Here we go.”
She was halfway through the story when the floor began to vibrate beneath their feet and the windows rattled loudly.
Everyone looked around in shocked surprise.
“Down!” one of the blue-suited men shouted at Anne. He rushed over and pushed her to the floor, covering her with his body. The other security guard leapt over tiny desks and grabbed a started Catherine, wrapping her in his arms. He dove behind the Susan’s large desk, overturning its top toward the windows.
Anne heard the telltale sound of machine gun fire. Rat-a-tat tat... rat-a-tat tat... rat-a-tat tat.”
Windows shattered. Children screamed. Mothers clasped their children to their chests and dove for the floor. Counselors and teachers ducked behind desks trying to get away from the windows.
Anne heard the sound of a helicopter approaching the windows.
Rat-a-tat tat... rat-a-tat tat... rat-a-tat tat.
The security guard covering her jumped up and ran in a zigzag pattern toward the windows. As he ran he pulled from the gym bag an Uzi-like machine gun with an 18-inch barrel. He fired in the direction that Anne assumed was the helicopter.
She heard the sound of the helicopter retreating.
“Are you okay, Lady Anne?”
The worried security guard had rushed back.
“I’m fine, Victor. Where’s Catherine?” she said, looking around frantically, barely able to keep her voice from screaming.
Anne scanned the room trying to find her daughter while checking on the others. Everyone seemed to be okay. There was no sign of Catherine.
Cries of “Mommy!” were coming from all directions making it impossible to locate Catherine’s voice.
A terrified Anne scanned the classroom. Everyone was frightened and lying face down on the floor, scattered throughout the classroom.
“Catherine!” Anne screamed. “Catherine!”
A large male hand waved from the far side of a desk at the front of the room. The security guard stood with Catherine in his arms, clinging to him and crying softly.
Anne rushed over and scooped Catherine into her arms.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Thank you, Alan! Thank you!”
“I’m relieved you’re both okay, Milady,” Alan said.
“What happened?” Anne asked.
“I don’t know how to say this gently, Lady Anne,” he replied “It appears very likely we were the targets. I was able to get a call in to the local police from behind the desk. It’s doubtful they had time to mobilize a pursuit of the helicopter. I’ve asked them to check all possible points of origin.”
Victor joined them.
“Civilian chopper,” he said. “Commercial model. The identification letters were spray-painted over. I got a few shots away. Might have hit someone. Not sure... bloody lucky if I did though. Oh, my apologies, Milady!”
Anne smiled wanly and shook her head. Victor knew how much she abhorred strong language of any kind.
“My guess is they used fake ID to rent the chopper,” Victor added. “Probably used stolen credit cards. That sort of thing’s not all that uncommon these days, unfortunately.”
***
Earnscliffe
Paul was near panic as he watched the breaking-news coverage on TV of the bizarre helicopter attack in Kilmarnock, Scotland.
Oh my God, he thought, frantic at not knowing whether Anne and Catherine were safe. Where are they? An awful idea occurred to him. Those bastards were after me! This is my fault!
TV anchors denounced the attack on the special toddlers school as “an act of unmitigated cowardice”, describing the attackers with terms such as “barbarians” and “heartless savages”.
His cell phone rang. It was Anne. “You’re safe!” he said. “Thank God!” A huge sense of relief washed over him. “I’
ve been worried sick!”
“How about that!” she said calmly. Paul heard a tone of triumph mixed with weariness in her voice. “Now you know how I feel after your escapades, my love. Yes, Catherine and I are just fine. We’re a wee bit rattled, I’ll admit, and tired, but just fine. We’ll be home this evening.”
“Do the authorities have any idea who was behind the attack... an estranged husband perhaps?” Paul asked trying to avoid the obvious, and knowing that was not so.
“Alan and Victor think the attack was directed at me,” Anne replied.
“Why you?” Paul said. Fear for her safety made his scalp prickle with sweat. “To get at me, right?”
“Maybe, Paul.” She paused. “But it might also be someone trying to stop me from helping these mothers get their lives back together. The school’s getting a whole lot of publicity. I’m afraid it’s not the best kind. I promised to go back in a few weeks. I’m going to keep that promise.”
“Are you sure about that?” Paul asked. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough? It’ll be too risky.”
“That’s exactly why I have to go back!” Anne said. “I’m not going to let those thugs win. I have to help those women feel safe while getting the benefits of those wonderful programs.”
The determination he heard in her voice was clear and made him both proud and worried.
“Paul, I caused this. I have an obligation to fix it.”
“It’s my fault, love,” Paul said. “I’m so sorry I put both of you in danger. For now, I just want you and Catherine home safely.”
“See you this evening,” Anne said. Then she added, “By the way, Paul, I’ve made a list of things this school needs desperately. Secret Shepherd will be going on a shopping spree when I get back.”
“Good,” Paul said, relieved at the change of subject.
“Do you know, Paul, that thanks to Secret Shepherd, Kay now has thirty-seven Head Start Learning Centers operating or planned for abused women throughout the UK and as many classrooms for their children, including day care and programs for preschoolers and afternoon programs for kids in school. They’re helping thousands of women get back on their feet... get back to becoming productive members of society.”
“Wow!” Paul said. “Kay is back in business with a bang! How did she manage to grow so big so fast?”
“She had already begun to implement plans for most of the locations when her money was stolen and she was forced to put everything on told,” Anne replied.
“Speaking of that,” Paul said. “Ken Hagerman called this morning. They have a line on that money of hers. Evidently, her first husband put it in a Swiss bank account. Not a smart move. The Swiss government has ordered the bank to freeze the account and turn over details to Scotland Yard.”
“Does Kay know?” Anne said.
“Not yet.” Paul replied.
“She’s here in Kilmarnock for the opening,” Anne said. “Would it be okay if I tell her?”
“By all means,” Paul said.
“Back to those schools, Paul,” Anne said.
“Something’s on your mind, love,” Paul said.
“Yes,” she said. “Every one of those classrooms needs chairs, desks, books, supplies, and kitchens, among other things. And all of them need a proper staffing budget. The same applies to the counseling centers: chairs, desks, lounge facilities, meeting room furniture. That’s just the first page on my list!”
“Okay, okay.” Paul laughed. “Do as you see fit, my love. Mrs. Shelley’s programs are all yours, as we agreed.”
Chapter Sixty-One
House of Lord’s Library
“Good morning, Lord Winston,” Marion Stapleton said.
“Good morning, Marion,” Paul replied. “Just a quick stop this morning.”
“Yes Milord,” she said, showing no emotion. “How may I help you... perhaps the latest Hansard... it just arrived?”
“I won’t be needing that today, Marion. Thank you,” Paul replied. “Would you mind if I ask you a few questions... personal questions?”
“As you wish, Milord,” she said.
Wariness flashed into her eyes.
“That young man who comes here often,” Paul said. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“Yes, Milord,” she answered cautiously. “May I ask why you’re interested?”
“Just curious,” he said. “I noticed he seems to be picking up books. I thought only members of the House of Lords have borrowing privileges.”
“Oh, those books are surplus,” Marion said quickly.
“I see,” Paul said.
That’s interesting, he thought. She’s not volunteered to identify her visitor or to identify the books he’s picking up. I wonder why. Is she hiding something?
“Will that be all, Milord?” Marion asked. She picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a number, ignoring him.
Paul felt mildly annoyed. He turned and headed for his favorite place in the library.
***
A Week Later
Westland Place
“We’ve found a few more answers about your librarian’s visitors, Paul,” Ken said on the phone.
“Is it as we thought?” Paul asked.
“Not even close!” Ken said. “Hope you’re sitting down. Marion was secretly married to Maurice Eldridge about a year and a half ago.”
“That puts her in a delicate position,” Paul said.
“Yes,” Ken said. “And it gets worse... or more interesting.”
“Please explain,” Paul said.
“Eldridge has a half-brother,” Ken replied. “He doesn’t show up on any of Eldridge’s records, not even in the extensive background checks done on all recruits to MI5. Go figure!”
“Are you going to tell me why this is so significant?” Paul said.
“Are you sitting down?”
“Yes, Ken.”
“Right you are then. His half-brother is Kazem Mehregan.”
“What?” Paul said. “You can’t be serious! Are you telling me Eldridge’s half-brother is the same Kazem Mehregan, that status-climbing gang leader who’s been romancing Agnes Meriwether?”
“Very serious,” Ken replied.
“How did you find out?”
“Agnes told us,” Ken said.
“What?” Paul said.
“She’s been working secretly for Richard and sorta for MI5 to explore the gang’s and the syndicate’s tentacles at senior levels in London’s business community, in the British public service, and in Parliament.”
“Why didn’t he tell anyone?”
“Richard just called me about it... said he and Agnes had done as much they could for now. He knew MI5 would take a dim view of him recruiting her, but he did it anyway. He rightly believed her society connections were perfect to help him with his investigation. She’s delivered a pile of incriminating evidence against them.”
“Well I’ll be darned!” Paul said. “I owe Agnes an apology... I totally underestimated her. And I have some explaining to do to Anne. By the way, how did Eldridge’s part in all of this come to your attention?”
“Agnes helped corroborate videos from the new CCTV we installed in Westminster,” Ken said. “We identified both Mehregan and Eldridge visiting Marion Stapleton in the last few weeks. We put tails on them, and followed both men to that little cafe a couple of blocks from your office. As you know, that same cafe was Mehregan’s headquarters. We’ve confirmed it’s owned covertly by the Turkish syndicate. We think Eldridge has been going there regularly to meet Mehregan.”
“Why didn’t you arrest Marion?” Paul asked.
“Not enough evidence,” Ken replied. “We brought her in for questioning a few days ago but that’s all. She was put on restricted access.”
“How do you know they’re brothers?” Paul asked.
“Half-brothers,” Ken corrected him. “Immigration records. Eldridge’s mother was British... dead now. She gave birth to a son in Iran while she was in her late teens. It wa
s during the Shah’s regime. She wanted to leave Iran, but the boy’s father refused. He basically kidnapped the boy and had her expelled from the country.”
“How do you know all this?” Paul said.
“We have moles too,” Ken said. “In this case, we called on some deep-cover sources in Iran. Just got word this morning. We never would have known where to look without the connection those surveillance videos gave us.”
“Clearly, Marion’s job is compromised,” Paul said.
“Oh, yes. We have reason to believe she was feeding them information on floor plans and the movements of people in the House of Lords and the Commons.”
“Shouldn’t you bring her in for more questioning?”
“Wish we could,” Ken replied. “She’s disappeared.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“I was there just a few days ago.”
“I know. You are quite recognizable on CCTV, Paul!”
“What now?”
“We’ve issued a countrywide warrant for her arrest, along with Eldridge and Mehregan.”
“How long was she been working in the Lords Library?” Paul asked.
“A little over five years.”
“Any idea what they were up to?”
“Yes,” Ken said. “Notes we found while searching Eldridge’s flat suggests they were in the final stages of planning an armed attack on the Palace of Westminster.”
“Good God!” Paul said. “Are you quite sure?”
“Quite,” Ken said. “We discovered that by accident.”
“How so?”
“When we searched Eldridge’s flat, his landlady told us she’d been suspicious of him for a while. She cooperated fully... even showed us where to find a bag of garbage she’d seen him put in a rubbish bin down the street. We found his notes and diagrams for their plans. We’re searching for accomplices named in the notes.”
“I owe Agnes an apology,” Paul repeated. “Now I can tell Anne all about this. I hope my wonderful ‘bride’ will be understanding. There’s still one big question left unanswered.”
Secret Shepherd Page 24