“Thank you,” Ken said. “I’ll make sure all of that is passed along to the FBI as well. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Paul said. “It seems likely that Malik was telling the truth when he identified the third murderer as Martin Semaka.”
“I agree,” Ken said. “Malik has no reason to lie. Doing so would blow any chance he has to make a deal.”
“That means we have a local sheriff, currently under suspension, trying to cover up a murder,” Paul said. “That sheriff happens to be a friend and hunting buddy of Martin Semaka’s father. What’s more, I’m already involved in an investigation involving Semaka senior. He tried to scuttle a real estate transaction I’m involved with in Rogersville. The problem is that’s a small town. It’s going to be a challenge to prove any of this. Locals often close ranks against outsiders.”
“Looks like we could have our work cut out for us,” Ken said.
“Us?” Paul asked.
“You bet,” Ken said. “I rather think a few friends from law enforcement in your home country will want to help... friends with a zero tolerance for corrupt cops.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
3 a.m.
Earnscliffe
“Paul,” Anne whispered, reaching across an unfamiliar queen-size bed to shake his shoulder. “Paul, wake up! Listen… hear that?”
“Hear what?” a sleepy Paul replied.
“Someone’s outside,” she said. “I heard a loud noise. I think we’ve got an intruder.”
“It’s probably just one of the security guards,” Paul said quietly. “Try going back to sleep, my love.”
“Paul, it’s three in the morning,” Anne persisted. “They shouldn’t be making noise at this hour.”
He sat up. “You’re right! Wait here.”
Paul swung his legs over the side of the bed and unlocked the bedside table. He retrieved a Glock, slipped in a magazine, and carefully chambered a round. “Okay, I’ll go have a look.”
Paul donned his robe, grabbed a powerful flashlight, and headed for the door.
“Ouch!” he muttered, bumping into a chair in his half-awake state. It seemed out of place until he remembered they were using a guest bedroom. The master suite was being prepped for painting.
He reached the bedroom door in the darkness and switched on the flashlight, directing it down the long hallway, not wanting to disturb Anne with the light.
Everything in the long ornate hallway of the sixteenth century manor house appeared normal. The children’s bedroom doors were slightly ajar, as usual.
Nearing the end of the hallway where the master suite was located, Paul heard the faint sound of low voices coming from outside. His first instinct was the voices were of the security guards that Ken Hagerman had insisted upon.
Suddenly Paul heard a window crash in the master suite. A flash came from the bedroom doorway and he heard a loud explosion. The floor under his feet shook. There was another flash... and another loud explosion.
“Mommy!” he heard Catherine scream from inside her room, on his left. “Daddy!”
Paul doubled back and headed for her door as his daughter’s shrill, terrified screams continued.
Anne ran down the hallway toward Paul. He pointed at Catherine’s door. The door to Doug’s room across from Catherine’s room flew open. Paul grabbed Doug and checked to make sure he was okay. Both he and Doug followed Anne into Catherine’s room.
In the light from the flashlight, Paul and Anne checked to make sure Catherine was okay.
“What happened?” Anne asked, her arms wrapped tightly around Catherine.
“There was an explosion in our bedroom,” Paul replied. “Two explosions. I’m going to check right now.”
He turned toward the door.
“Be careful!” Anne said.
“I’m coming too,” Doug said firmly.
“Thanks, Doug,” Paul said. “I’ll be okay, son. I need you to look after your mom and Catherine. Can you do that for me?”
Doug nodded and smiled back proudly.
Paul hurried to the master suite. He was quite certain about what had caused the explosions.
A small fire was burning in one corner of the bedroom. He grabbed a bucket half full of water the painters were using to soak brushes and sprayed it on the fire, brushes and all. He also soaked some towels in the ensuite sink and threw them over the remaining smoldering embers.
The heavy floor-to-ceiling draperies were open as he approached the windows. Standing to one side, he looked out. The security floodlights were on but there was no sign of intruders.
Where’s the security? He wondered. They should be all over this by now.
Security had been increased recently to twenty-four hours. Previously, bodyguards had accompanied them only when they left Earnscliffe.
Paul grabbed the phone and pressed the emergency code to reach the security detail. No response. He dialed 999, the Kent police emergency line.
“What is the nature of your emergency?” a voice answered.
Paul identified himself and explained that their home had been bombed.
“Are there any injuries, My Lord?” the concerned female voice asked.
“No,” Paul said.
“Is there a fire?”
“No,” Paul replied again. “Well, yes and no. I put it out. You should alert Kent Fire and Rescue all the same.”
“Already done, Milord,” the voice said. “We do that automatically. The police will be with you shortly, sir. Do you wish to stay on the line?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Paul said
Anne walked cautiously into their master suite and looked around.
“Oh my God!” she said. “What happened?”
Their king size four-poster bed had been destroyed. The painters’ drop sheets over it were shredded. A dresser near the window had been turned to kindling. The contents were scattered across the carpet between the door and the bed.
Doug arrived at the bedroom door carrying Catherine. She was clinging tightly to her big brother.
“Don’t turn on the light, son!” Paul said.
“Okay, Dad,” Doug replied. “What happened?”
“Looks like someone threw a couple of hand grenades through the window,” Paul said.
Anne’s eyes grew big with fright.
“How did they get onto the property?” Anne asked. “Are they still out there? Why didn’t the security guards stop them? Isn’t that their job?”
“Yes, my love,” Paul said. “I’m not sure what happened to the security detail. Right now we need to stay away from the windows, with the lights off until the police arrive. I’ve called them. Let’s all go back to the guest bedroom. Okay?”
As they reached the bedroom, they could hear sirens arriving. Paul got dressed in the dark, grabbed a jacket, and headed downstairs to meet the police, leaving Doug to guard their family.
***
10:42 a.m.
Paul’s Den
“Thank you for your patience, My Lord.”
The police constable stood at the doorway to Paul’s den. He was seated at his desk.
“Have you completed your investigation?” Paul asked, gesturing his guest to a seat.
“As much as we can for the moment, Milord,” said Deputy Chief Constable Lionel Schramm of the Kent police.
“Are the security guards okay?” Paul asked.
“I’m afraid not, My Lord,” replied. “We found one constable on the grounds, sir. He’s dead. The other is missing.”
“Dear God!” Paul said. “What happened?”
“We believe the perpetrators murdered the constable to gain access, Milord,” Schramm said. “We are pursuing the possibility that one guard may have cooperated with the attackers... killed his partner, allowing the intruders to get onto the grounds. This is most irregular, sir. Scotland Yard’s VIP security detail is one of the best in the world. Top drawer. Most irregular. I must also tell you, sir, that Lady Anne will be acquainted with the dec
eased constable. He was one of the two men on her security detail at Kilmarnock. Constable Victor Wright was shot in the head at close range.”
“Good God!” Paul said. “That’s horrible! Any sign of the other constable?”
“No sir.”
“Was he the other constable on my wife’s detail at Kilmarnock?”
“No sir. He was new to the squad.”
“What now?”
“I believe, sir, it would be wise for you and your family to ‘disappear’ for a few weeks, at least while we are conducting this investigation.”
“I’m overdue for visits to America and Canada,” Paul said. “Perhaps we should make those visits now.”
“That’s a splendid idea, Milord,” Schramm replied.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Later That Morning
“I can’t leave just now, Paul!” Anne said.
“We have to, love,” Paul replied. “It’s not safe here right now for you and the kids.”
“Or for you,” Anne corrected him.
“Yes,” he conceded.
“Paul, I’ve agreed to do more appearances to promote Mary’s House and the Shelley Children’s Program... almost a dozen commitments all over Britain.”
“You’ll need to reschedule, my love... please,” Paul replied. He saw the resolve in her eyes, one of many characteristics he found irresistible. “The safety of our family has to come first, right?”
Anne hesitated for a second.
“Yes, of course, Paul,” she admitted. “But I’ll need to make it up to them when we get back.”
“We shall, my love,” Paul said, wrapping her in his arms.
“How about we spend a few weeks at the ranch and a few weeks in Ottawa? That’s Canada’s capital city. It’s absolutely gorgeous.” Paul said. “I had a call from my friend Dan Stonechild. Things are getting worse with his people. I promised to meet with some elders. After that, I’d really like you to see those remarkable projects in Tennessee. Some awesome people are involved with them, and after that, maybe we can go to Sierra Leone.”
“Isn’t Tennessee where poor Ahmed was murdered?” Anne said.
“Yes,” Paul replied quietly. “Yes it is.”
“Is there anything new with the investigation?” Anne asked.
“One development,” Paul said. “There’s reason to believe Ahmed was alive when taken to a town called Bristol, where he was murdered. The town straddles the border between Tennessee and Virginia. The Virginia State Police recently found evidence showing he may have been killed in the north end of that town, across the state line in Virginia, and that his killers took Ahmed’s body back to Rogersville where they used him to send us a message.
“In America, when a crime like that crosses a state line, it becomes the jurisdiction of the FBI,” Paul said. “They’ve huge resources to help get this resolved. We’re quite sure about who’s responsible, but one of the three suspects is still at large. The other one claims to have an alibi. Ken Hagerman wants us to take along extra security, as a precaution,” he added. Anne tensed.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Under the circumstances, he wants to send four VIP guards with us.”
“No way, Paul!” Anne stepped back and looked sternly at him, anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s absurd. I will not stand for it! You hear me? We’ll become a traveling circus! No way!”
Paul started to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded. Her eyes were bright with annoyance.
“I expected that,” Paul said. “I told Ken that two was all you’d tolerate. I’m not helpless either. That makes three guarding my wonderful family.”
Anne allowed a strained smile. “Okay,” she said. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Ken called this morning with another bit of news,” Paul said. “It reinforces why the Kent police, MPS, and MI5 all want us to vamoose. He said DNA from a cigarette butt found on the grounds here matches the DNA in blood recovered from the helicopter in Kilmarnock. It was abandoned a few miles from the attack on the school.”
“You mean,” Anne began.
“Yes, my love,” Paul said. “The same person was involved in both attacks.”
“Do they know who it is?” Anne asked.
“Yes,” Paul said. “The DNA is that of a gang leader, Kazem Mehregan. Scotland Yard got a DNA sample when he was arrested a few months ago.”
“There’s no doubt?” Anne asked.
“No,” Paul said.
“I presume the police don’t know where he is,” Anne said.
“Correct,” Paul replied. “After Kilmarnock, MPS was able to round up all of the gang except for him and a thug, Izad Rajavi. They’ve both disappeared... and now, so have many of the other gang members.”
“Do my parents know about this?” Anne said.
“Your father does.”
“My mother?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good!” she said. “I hope Daddy keeps it that way.”
“One other question,” Paul said.
Anne raised her right eyebrow. The fetching gesture had always sent loving shivers up and down his spine.
“Can Doug keep up with his home schooling while we’re away?” Paul asked. “We don’t want him to get behind.”
“It’s not been a problem before,” Anne said. “He’s more than a year ahead of where he needs to be. You know he loves to learn. Why are you asking?”
“What if we went on from Rogersville to Pendembu in Sierra Leone?” Paul said. “I promised to take you there. This seems like a good time to be travelling, and it would be a good experience for the children. I’m just concerned that we could be away for over a month, maybe even two months.”
“We’ll be just fine,” Anne reassured him. “We might become pretty good at this vagabond thing, you know.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Two Dot Ranch
Colorado
“Welcome home, again!”
Elizabeth Underhill was standing on the veranda of the massive two-story fieldstone home where Paul grew up. A wide smile and happy maternal eyes lit up the perpetually friendly face of one half of the couple that managed the ranch.
Paul and Anne had barely made it up the four steps to the verandah when Doug called out behind them.
“I’m going to see the horses,” he said. Doug’s attention was on a corral with four horses twenty yards away. “Catherine wants to come, okay?”
“Keep her safe,” Anne said. “She doesn’t know anything about horses yet.”
She watched lovingly as Doug held his little sister’s hand, patiently walking beside her and chatting excitedly.
Anne turned quickly to embrace Elizabeth and her husband George. Paul had recently appointed the long-time ranch foreman as general manager. His parents’ wills had left George a ten percent interest in the thriving ranch. They’d died five years earlier when their light plane crashed while landing at the ranch. The incident was still under investigation.
Hugs were exchanged all around.
“How long can you stay with us this time?” George asked.
“A couple of weeks,” Paul replied. “After that we’re off to Canada, where I’ll be visiting a friend, before we head to Tennessee. After that, we’re off to Africa.”
“Wow!” George said. “Ya sure do get around!” He cast a questioning look over Paul’s shoulder at two strapping young men in blue suits. They’d emerged from a Ford pickup behind the Winston’s car.
“Yeah,” Paul replied. “A bit more than we like.”
“What Paul’s not telling you,” Anne chimed in, glancing at the two young men. “Is we’re supposed to be in hiding.”
Later, inside over tea in the two-story great room, Paul and Anne filled them in on the attacks at Kilmarnock and Earnscliffe, and the earlier attempts on Paul in Sierra Leone, Amsterdam and Rogersville. Elizabeth’s eyes grew big with protective anger. George frowned and
a menacing look entered his eyes.
George turned to face Paul.
“We’ll brief the boys this afternoon, okay?” he said, meaning the six ranch hands. “We’ll keep your family safe!”
Paul nodded.
“While you’re here, they’ll be carrying their sidearms at all times,” George added. “They’ll keep their rifles handy too. Are the cops around here aware of all these attacks?”
“Oh yeah,” Paul said. “Police in the UK have briefed them. I have photos of the suspects we can share with the boys, although I don’t think the bad guys know where we are, for the moment at least.”
“Don’t be so sure,” George said. “You just never know.”
“Well, yeah,” Paul replied. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
***
A Week Later
“I have to be honest with you,” Dan said on the phone. “Things here are getting worse. How soon can you come?”
Paul could tell from the moist sound of Dan’s voice that his friend was upset, perhaps had been crying.
“Two more kids in one tiny community,” Dan said, his voice breaking. “Dead, Paul. They committed suicide just a few days apart. I’ve lost count of how many have died this summer, just in this part of the North. Ten or twelve, maybe more! It’s an epidemic!”
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