by Daniel Kemp
How did I feel when he died? I felt frightened, that's how I felt and I still do. That's one of the reasons why I'm telling you all of this. Another is that I'm jealous of Penina. I've been that way since I gave birth to her and Mayanna paid more attention to my daughter than she did to me. Penni always had the first pick of things. When you came along I wanted to know if she'd take you.”
“It was you who made that easy.”
“True, but I needed to be sure which way you swung, Shaun. The last thing I needed for my confidence was to be turned down by a twenty-three-year-old desirable man. I was playing games with your mind.”
“I'll have to take your word about a tyre shredder as I've never heard of them being used back home. But there again you're always ahead of us over here.”
“You were pretty forward when it came to Penina, She gave you a flowing report incidentally. I lied when I said I hadn't asked for the details. I wanted to know just how direct you were and how good you were.”
“Strange that, as she was the first woman I'd been with,” I lied. “Never got close to any before.”
“Then I'm only too pleased to say that she was a good teacher,” she declared approvingly.
“She rates as the primary school instructor and you the university professor, Leeba. I'd get a first class degree under you.” Smiling as provocatively as I could, I replied. “Are you still playing with my mind?” I asked, not ready for any missing truth.
“I'm not, nor am I exaggerating when I tell you to watch out for Richard. I believe he's caught up in something he can't get out of. Weilham is the key, I'm sure of that. And I'm sure of one other thing, Shaun. You may well be the very last man I have sex with if I don't go to sleep right now. You've killed me. More of the same in the morning if you're a lucky boy. I think I'll take the day off tomorrow, spending the whole of it in your bed.”
“If I didn't know better I'd think you were on drugs, because I found it hard to keep up with you.”
“I could be smutty, saying that as long as I find you hard when I need to then all's well, but I shouldn't go that low. Or should I?”
“When it's done so well, why stop is what I would say.”
“I'm falling asleep, but don't let that hamper you. If you're good then I'll tell you a big secret in the morning.” Within seconds she found the place of her dreams.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wednesday Morning In New York
Ghosts
She awoke just before seven o'clock feeling very much the worst for wear.
“I have a hangover to end all hangovers. Did you hit me on the head with something hard last night, Shaun?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the outside sun.
“No need, Leeba, You did it all yourself. You drank the best part of a bottle of whisky,” I replied, smiling. There was one part of me that was pleased by her incapacity but another, perhaps stronger, that wanted the salaciousness of her to be activated.
“If you want coffee then I'm about to disappoint you. I've only shopped for clothes since being here, food has not been a priority.”
“Have you been living off air?”
“No! Eaten out every day. Both you and your brother threw money at me.” I laughed, but she was incapable of that.
“No eggs then, I guess.” By now her eyes were open, squinting at me in disapproval.
“Not even a pint of milk in the fridge.”
“Bloody hell!” she shouted, then rubbed her head trying to erase the loud noise she'd made.
“If my memory serves me right, and with my head it will be a surprise if it does, there's a deli on the main street in the opposite direction to the office. They serve coffee to take out. Get some wholegrain bread and eggs and I'll try to scramble them. I need a shower. I stink!” She did a bit, but needed a toothbrush as urgently.
“Do they sell toothbrushes and toothpaste as well?”
She cupped her hands over her mouth and nose and breathed into them.
“I do need one, don't I! I'll just use yours. That's if you have one, of course.”
“We have them in Ireland and some of us use them.”
“Do you use a razor for shaving or only for cutting one another's throats?”
“Are you insinuating that I need a shave, Leeba?” She fashioned a smile of sorts which creased her brow in discomfort.
“I am,” she replied. “I hope you have a towel in the bathroom, Shaun?” I grimaced, as if I hadn't.
“Do you wash in restaurants as well as eat in them?” She took the bait.
“I have two towels and soap. I nicked them from the hotel I stayed in overnight. I'll even allow you the use of my toothbrush. You see, I'm really quite a civilised gent when you get to know me.”
“Oh you're a funny man, Shaun. Now go get my coffee. Two double shot espressos might do the trick.”
“What the hell is that?” I asked, genuinely not knowing, as she got out of bed naked and clutching her head.
“You'll find out soon enough,” she replied.
“And will I find out what that secret is about when I get back, Leeba?”
“Just go, Shaun! My head is going to explode any second now!”
Outside the building the air was yet to be clogged by the exhaust gases of normal day traffic, nor was there the everyday noise of screeching sirens and raised voices, but instead of wanting to dawdle in the comforting absence of these city traits the opposite was true. The warm sun on my back reminded me of Leeba's sleeping body against my own. I wanted more of her and I wanted more information. The fact that I was thinking of how to test Jack's assumption that she had no recollection of who had raped her, sometime during the coming day, was not the reason that I was not concentrating on my immediate surroundings. I would like to say that I had noticed the motley grey painted van, with blacked out windows, parked about a hundred yards in front me, but I didn't. However, I did notice three men standing opposite who separated as soon as I had left my building. Two of them crossed the street behind me, whilst the other started to take the same route as I with only the width of road separating us. Instinctively I glanced back towards the Holstein Building but there was no one I could see following on my side of the street. I was a mere boy playing a man's game in a strange playground. What's more, I was just about to be told how badly I was performing.
“Miss Stockford will not be needing coffee, Shaun, she is no longer in your apartment,” Job nonchalantly stated as he alighted from the passenger side of the van and stood before me. “Jack is wanting to see you,” he added as he took hold of my arm.
Monday Evening In London
If Sheila Blythe-Smith was asked if she was annoyed that her husband would not be home due to his workload, she would have answered that she was not. In fact, she was pleasantly pleased. Sheila never enjoyed travelling with him on the town leg of their journey from their home in Wood Street Village not far from Guildford. The return leg was never as bad, as on most occasions it was late at night when the traffic was lighter, thereby causing his constant reprimands of fellow travellers driving behaviour to diminish into silence. The same relief applied to their driver, only he would never voice that opinion, not even agreeing with Sheila when she said as much.
“It's very peaceful tonight without Sir Richard, George. We should be at Claridge's with plenty of time to spare and our heads in one piece.”
“We should, Madam,” the emotionless George replied.
“How's that new baby of yours doing, Peter? What is she now, three weeks old, is it?”
George's front seat companion, Peter Widmark, was the proud father of Betty, born to his wife Elizabeth twenty-three days ago with him only seeing his daughter twice in that time due to his own work commitments. He was part of a team of nine, twenty-four hour, seven days a week protection officers for both her husband and herself. His opinion on Dicky's perennial soliloquy on the lack of driving skill associated with other people was marred by the fact that had Dicky arrived home in time he would have be
en able to see some of Betty tonight and not have to wait until Tuesday, as he would now.
“Just over three weeks, Madam, and doing fine,” He paused slightly before gravely adding, “At least that's what my wife says.”
George gave a sly glance towards both his passengers, but neither registered anything other than a stoical look on their faces. It was as though Dicky's ghost was locked inside.
Some of us are required to accept that pain is part of our sworn duty to protect the Realm. These people driving their metal boxes on four rubber tyres must literally relish living within its confines. Have you seen their faces, Sheila? Not a single smile on any of the buggers, unless they are making everyone else as miserable as themselves!
After a few miles of agitation-free driving, Sheila bridged the silence.
“Will my husband be on time, Peter, or do we need to call ahead informing Marco of his delay?”
“Sir Richard is on schedule, Madam. There's no need to worry.”
New York
I, on the other hand, had plenty to worry about. The rear of the van was partitioned off from any sunlight that may have filtered in from the driving compartment, so I could make out very little of it before Job apologetically placed a hood over my head, but what I had managed to see was significant. There was a set of headphones in front of two radio receivers and a tape recorder mounted on a fixed side panel running from the front partition to the rear doors. Above them, a blacked-out windows from which it was possible to see out, but not inside the van. A soft padded bench was bolted to the floor in front of that ad hoc position and on this Job sat me.
We drove away quickly but smoothly, until after a short time the van began to quicken and make several violent turns, throwing me from side to side. It was just before one such change of direction that I heard Job speaking, but I could hear nobody else. A few moments later I heard the distinctive sound of a police car's siren closing on us and then fade away. “All's clear,” Job shouted and the van slowed. With the siren now faint and seemingly stationary we drove sedately with no more deviations until we made a sharp right turn and stopped. I heard one of the front compartments windows being nosily wound down but no sound of speech. The window closed and we began a steep decline, zigzagging carefully over three large bumps before turning left, making a coarse tyre-screeching noise, and pulling to a stop. As I was helped out of the van I could smell the cool dampness of an underground carpark.
I had a million questions, but had asked none throughout that journey which had been filled with thoughts of Fianna. I wondered if a hood had been her fate on leaving, or did she have the privilege of knowing her destination. Where I had foolishly imagined myself to be in control of my destiny, it was she that was the professional and I a bungling fool who simply had been used for Jack's end. What rankled the most was my ineptitude in believing his cautionary tales about the matchsticks whereas he must have placed microphones in the apartment and covered that by his own tricks of the trade.
“I've been a fool, Job, haven't I?” I asked as, trying to find an ally somewhere, I got out.
“To be frank, Shaun, I've no idea. Jack doesn't say a lot to me. He doesn't keep fools around him either. He looks after those he keeps, when he knows their value.”
We walked up three short flights of concrete steps before Job opened a heavy groaning door towards us. The cold and damp were still there. We walked a few steps forward before my hood was removed. Jack stood before me with that characteristic smile on his face. We were in a completely closed and empty concrete lined room with a bare fluorescent light above.
“You're good, Shaun. You're very good! I wasn't completely sure about you in the beginning. How could I have been as there are so many imponderables including sexuality? You're all I hoped you would be and more.”
“You've used me, Jack, haven't you? Was I your plaything finding out about smuggled Nazis from another time? What have you done with Leeba?” I asked angrily.
“Used—maybe—but I'd prefer to call it tested. Just keep it in mind that you were recruited into the police by Trenchard before I invited you to join me. Leeba is being looked after, Shaun, that's all you need to know.” He was strolling to and fro looking more at the ground than me. “I knew about Dieter Chase and the others, but what I didn't know was who outside of the Baxter-Clifford household knew. You've shown me that, so now we move on to Richard, finding out precisely what he knows.”
“Where's his value when Michael Clifford knows everyone who was resettled from Germany? Is that who's Fianna after? Have you sent her there, Jack?”
“An interesting proposition, Shaun. Why would you think that?”
“Because they're both Irish and the IRA must be at the top of your list.”
“Not exactly at the top. There are other departments dealing with those matters who are far better equipped than I. My interest lies predominately elsewhere.” Before he had finished I added my own take on things.
“But I'm betting it overlaps in a big way and none of what you've told me up till now is the full truth. Why the need of a hood if I'm on your side, Jack? Try that for starters.”
He stopped walking around and now stood looking into my eyes.
“Because where we are must remain a secret from you for the time being, Shaun. It's for your own good, believe me.”
“That's the trouble isn't it? What can I believe?”
“I haven't told you the whole truth for reasons that you will understand eventually. Everything in this sorry tale is complicated beyond belief. I needed to know how you would react to certain circumstances as they unfolded. Now I'm satisfied, but I still must withhold some of the truth. That is solely for your own safety and nothing else. You have had another visitor inside your apartment apart from us and Leeba.”
“How do you know that, Jack?”
“Because he never noticed our matchsticks, Shaun.”
“Wasn't that a good trick you taught me.” If he noticed how sarcastic I was trying to be he never showed it.
“I want you to carry a firearm from now on. It's only a small one and there is a permit to carry a gun in your name. I'm hoping it won't be necessary, but we can't plan for everything.”
“Do you want me to shoot whoever it was who broke in, or is he, or she, likely to be firing blanks at me?” He laughed, but I found nothing amusing in my question.
“I take it that this mysterious person has a recording of me whispering sweet nothings in Leeba's ear?”
“We must assume that he has, Shaun, yes.”
“Did you think to remove his equipment when you installed your own or did you leave it there to embarrass me, Jack?”
“Not to embarrass you, Shaun. I thought the lady was suitably impressed. It was left in place because I considered that prudent. No one is more important than,”
“Yes, both Job and I know what comes next, there's no need to say the word. Where is Fianna and who was it that broke into my apartment?”
“Fianna is with Michael Clifford as his nurse. She qualified in that vocation in Liverpool before we found Father Finnegan for her. She's perfectly safe.”
“Is he though?” I asked, to which Jack never supplied an answer, but began strolling again.
“You should be concentrating on that intruder at the moment,” he added.
“Do you actually know who it was and how all this ends or, are you making it up as you along, Jack?”
“Nobody knows for certain how anything ends, Shaun, not even life. Some people believe that religion was invented to ease the minds of humans as to their physical end, giving them a reason to live a pious life in order to achieve a spiritual afterlife. I cannot vouch for that either way, nor can I change the rules of the church, but I can change the rules of my own doctrine. Job has the pistol. He'll give it to you before he drops you near your apartment block, along with the permit. For reasons best known to me he cannot drop you outside your building. He will provide you with a jacket to wear in order to conceal the
gun whilst you're on the street. I am sorry about all this subterfuge and I would have avoided it if it was at all possible, but we have to move as and when circumstances dictate.
We didn't know how soon you would get Leeba into your bed, Shaun, and as I'm obliged to stay here in this building for a time I couldn't get to Salvatore's this morning, otherwise I would have met you there. I have a letter I need you to deliver in person to Weilham. Make sure he knows it's from Richard Stockford and that you're his assistant. His hands only, Shaun. Be meticulous in that. Job will drop you off outside his offices and from there you must make your own way. It's a short walk to your apartment. I want you to clear your things from Baxter-Clifford's rented apartment and move into the space above Sally's restaurant. Not as plush, but it will do for the time being.”
“What if Weilham's not there?” I asked.
“He will be, Shaun,” he answered emphatically.
“I was followed before Job lifted me from the street, Jack.”
“Yes, they are on our side. When you leave here, and Job returns you, they will wait and see you safely to Sally's.”
“I could find my own way,” I said suspiciously.
“We don't want you wandering off, Shaun.”
“The car that was following us on our way here wasn't one of yours was it?”
“No, it wasn't,” he answered.