The Deadly Lies

by David C. Dawson

  “You weren’t watching closely enough just now.” Sinon grinned. “Anders not only dropped the tracker into your friend’s van, but he also slapped a bit of chewing gum I’d given him onto the back of Nick’s shirt. There’s a small transmitter inside it. It’ll take Nick a while to find it. And until then, you’ve got something interesting to listen to.”

  Chapter 22

  GABRIEL LOOKED up at the kitchen clock as he sliced baby squid into small pieces for the tapas. It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening. Alfonso had returned home over two hours ago with Dominic and Jonathan. As soon as they arrived, Gabriel had sensed there was a chill in the relationship between the two Englishmen. Their body language betrayed it immediately. Alfonso showed them to the guest room, while Gabriel went to the kitchen to begin the supper. He was preparing eight different types of tapas, including his signature dish, baby squid in white beans and garlic.

  In the two hours since Dominic and Jonathan arrived, Gabriel had hardly seen his husband, apart from the regular occasions when he came into the kitchen to make more coffee for their guests. The rest of the time, Alfonso was locked in discussion with the two men. The three of them sat on the balcony, talking and watching the sun set over Barcelona.

  Cups rattled behind Gabriel as Alfonso entered the kitchen.

  “How is my husband,” asked Gabriel, “the newly appointed marriage guidance counselor of Barcelona?”

  Alfonso set the tray he was holding on the worktop. He stood behind Gabriel, wrapped his arms around his waist, and rested his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

  “I am desperately in need of un aperitivo.” He sighed and kissed his husband on the neck. “Are all Englishmen as complicated as this? I’m so glad I’m a Latin. We’re so much more straightforward.”

  Gabriel laughed. “Alfonso, do you know how racist that just sounded? Surely you must know by now, all men are complicated. It doesn’t matter where they come from.”

  Alfonso released his arms from around Gabriel’s waist and began to massage his husband’s neck. “My dear Gabriel, do you know how sexist that just sounded? Surely you must know that all people are complicated.” He stopped his massage for a moment and kissed Gabriel on the neck again. “That’s what makes the world so interesting.”

  Gabriel finished slicing the baby squid, picked up the chopping board, and tipped the squid into a frying pan of white beans and garlic. He set down the chopping board and turned to face Alfonso.

  “And just at the moment, do you think our two newlyweds in there believe complication is interesting?” asked Gabriel. “They seem to be very unhappy.” He turned back to the stove and began stirring the squid into the white beans. “I don’t understand how Jonathan can be so upset with Dominic. Especially after Dominic received the news about the death of his friend. Surely Jonathan should be more sensitive than that? And anyway,” he continued, turning up the heat under the frying pan, “why isn’t he delighted at the news of a son? Isn’t that what marriage is about?”

  Alfonso walked over to the large glass-fronted wine cooler by the entrance to the kitchen. He opened the door, took out a bottle of cava, and set it down on the counter next to his laptop.

  “Marriage means different things to different people,” said Alfonso. “Surely you know that, Gabriel? I’m not sure that Dominic and Jonathan have given much thought to children, so far.”

  Gabriel stopped stirring and lifted the spoon from the frying pan to taste the juice. “Ah, I always love this dish. We were lucky to get these squid today. They were almost the last ones.”

  Gabriel resumed stirring the pan and looked at Alfonso. “Well, I’m certain that at least Dominic had thought about children. After what you’ve told me, he’s known about his son for over two years. That’s as long as he’s known Jonathan. I suppose that’s why Jonathan is angry. Dominic never told him about the boy, not even when they were preparing to get married. Then he tells him on their honeymoon. I’d be upset if you were to withhold a piece of information like that from me, Alfonso.”

  His husband failed to respond, and Gabriel stopped stirring again. “I presume you’re not?” he asked teasingly.

  Alfonso was skimming through police updates on his laptop screen. He seemed to ignore the question, or was oblivious to it. “Jonathan’s certainly not happy” was all he said.

  Gabriel resumed stirring the pan of squid.

  “I wonder why Dominic didn’t tell him,” Gabriel continued. “I would be so proud if I was a father. I would want everyone to know. And if I were Jonathan, I would be proud of him. Why do you think Dominic hid the information from him?”

  Alfonso looked up. “The three of us have been talking for nearly two hours in there, and Dominic still hasn’t given a proper answer to that. But I think I can guess why.”

  He picked up a pen and began writing notes on a piece of paper.

  Gabriel dropped the spoon into the frying pan, turned to face Alfonso, and folded his arms. “So are you going to tell me?” he asked. “Or is your Latin Cinderella here to be kept out of the grown-up’s conversation?”

  Alfonso stopped writing and put down his pen. He picked up the bottle of cava, walked over to his husband, and kissed him slowly, using his tongue to explore the fullness of Gabriel’s lips and mouth.

  “There,” he said after nearly a minute. “Prince Charming will invite you to the ball. Only please don’t call those two boys in there grown-ups.” Alfonso set the bottle down on the worktop and reached for long-stemmed glasses from the cupboard above their heads.

  “I have a theory,” he said. He put the glasses on the worktop and started to open the bottle of cava. “I think Dominic is like your cousin Pedro.”

  Gabriel raised an eyebrow, and Alfonso continued.

  “Apparently, back in England, Dominic was only ‘out’ in certain circles. He and Jonathan lived separately. They only met at weekends, usually at Jonathan’s place. That was when Dominic was out as a gay man. The weekends and when he and Jonathan went away on holiday together. Dominic learned to break his life into little compartments. You know as well as I do that lots of gay men do that.”

  Alfonso expertly lifted the cork from the bottle of cava and began filling the four glasses.

  Gabriel nodded. “It’s true. Gay men never stop ‘coming out.’ People assume you’re straight. Each time you meet someone new, you have to choose whether to go through the whole coming-out conversation all over again. It gets boring.”

  Alfonso finished pouring the cava and set the bottle on the kitchen worktop. He took a glass in either hand and gave one to Gabriel.

  “Dominic put the news about his son in the compartment that included Bernhardt,” said Alfonso. “The man who was his brief German love affair when Dominic was twenty years old. It fitted in that compartment, because it was around the time, when he knew Bernhardt, that his son was conceived.” He touched his glass against Gabriel’s. “Salud, my love.”

  “It must have been a very confusing summer for Dominic all those years ago,” said Gabriel. “A love affair with a woman and a love affair with a man. Does he think he’s bisexual?”

  Alfonso laughed. “Why don’t you come and ask him yourself? I could really do with your support. I’ve never considered myself the best diplomat in the world, and I’m beginning to run out of patience with those two.”

  Gabriel turned back to the stove.

  “I’m nearly finished here,” he said. “Then I promise I’ll come and join you. What was so interesting on your laptop, by the way?”

  Alfonso picked up the two glasses he had poured for Dominic and Jonathan and headed toward the doorway.

  “Oh, it’s a report from Sitges. They’ve found a body in the water at the port.”

  JANET DOWNPATRICK held the phone away from her ear for a few seconds as a woman’s voice shouted from the earpiece. After the tirade had subsided, she put the phone back to her ear.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Downpatrick said, “but be confident that w
e will find them again. We know they’re flying to London first thing tomorrow, connecting with a flight to San Francisco in the afternoon. We’re booked on the same flights. It will be useful to have Viktor with me. He just has to finish some housecleaning here first.”

  There was a dull thud above her head, as Viktor continued to box up the contents of the yacht, ready for their departure.

  Downpatrick listened patiently as the verbal tirade exploded in her ear again. Holding the phone in one hand, she walked over to one of the cabin windows, opened the blinds, and revealed the lights of Port Sitges. It was nearly ten o’clock in the evening, and the sun had finally set. In the distance, she could see the flashing blue lights of police cars. Downpatrick allowed the voice to continue its rant in her ear for several minutes before she seized her chance to speak again.

  “The German was no longer needed, ma’am,” said Downpatrick. “He had become untrustworthy. In my opinion, he was always unreliable. I dislike traitors. Especially when we pay them well.” She paused and took a sip from a glass of unsweetened hot lemon Viktor had prepared for her. She listened patiently for a moment.

  “That’s not a problem,” Downpatrick responded. “I have the codes for the Charter Ninety-Nine calls. I’ll be notified when they happen, and I can listen in.”

  She turned as Viktor Krasov entered the cabin and signaled he wanted to speak to her.

  “Please be assured, we will recover and destroy the DG chip by the end of tomorrow.” Downpatrick nodded to Krasov. “Yes, ma’am. I understand. Please excuse me now, but I have to go.”

  Janet Downpatrick ended the call and threw the mobile phone down on the tabletop.

  “I dislike working with politicians, particularly those in the church. They panic too easily.” She turned to Krasov. “Yes, what is it?”

  “There are police everywhere in the port, ma’am,” he replied. “We should delay the evacuation until they’ve gone. It will avoid attracting their attention.”

  She looked at him coldly for a moment.

  “Then how am I expected to travel to London tomorrow?”

  Krasov returned her look, unblinking.

  “They won’t be concerned by a single woman such as yourself on an evening’s walk in the port,” he replied. “I have arranged for a taxi driver friend of mine to collect you outside the secure entrance. If you walk down there on your own, the police will simply take you for another spectator at the scene of their investigation. Santos will drive you to the airport hotel for the night.”

  “And what am I supposed to do for clothes?” asked Downpatrick.

  Krasov shrugged. “I do not need any.” He walked to the doorway, stopped, and turned to look at Downpatrick.

  “I will try to bring something for you later,” Krasov relented. “But only if I see the police have gone. If you take a suitcase now, they may want to question you. It’s your choice.”

  ALFONSO SIDESTEPPED to avoid bumping into Dominic, who appeared at the kitchen doorway.

  “Can I help with anything?” asked Dominic. “I’m feeling very guilty. You’re doing all the work, while Jonathan and I just sit in there being waited on hand and foot.”

  Alfonso handed Dominic one of the glasses of cava. “You can start by drinking this,” he said. “I think you’ll find it medicinal.”

  Dominic smiled and took the glass from Alfonso’s outstretched hand. “You’re being both doctor and therapist this evening, Alfonso. I’m very sorry. Jonathan and I aren’t behaving like very good guests. I’d like to apologize for ruining your evening.”

  Alfonso put his free hand on Dominic’s shoulder, pulled him forward, and gave him a hug.

  “Don’t worry, my friend,” said Alfonso into Dominic’s ear. “Life has not been fair to you in the last few days. Be gentle on yourself.” He released his arm and pulled back to look at Dominic’s face. “Be gentle on your new husband as well, my friend. You mustn’t allow these extraordinary events to sour the start of your married life. You have so much to look forward to.”

  Dominic leaned forward and kissed Alfonso on the forehead. “You’re an extraordinarily kind man,” he said. Then he looked across at Gabriel and added, “Both of you are. It’s inspiring to see such a successful marriage.”

  Gabriel laughed. “It’s not always perfect harmony. Alfonso can be impossible at times.” He gestured around him. “He ties me to this kitchen most of the time.”

  “Huh!” said Alfonso in mock anger. “The things I have to put up with from the queen of the cuisine. Anyway,” he continued, looking at Gabriel, “you always said you enjoyed being tied up.”

  Alfonso ducked as a bread roll flew across the kitchen. It hit the notepad Alfonso had been writing on a few minutes before and knocked it to the floor. Alfonso turned to Dominic and shrugged. “See what I mean?”

  Dominic laughed and bent down to pick up the notepad. He glanced at the handwritten notes for a moment.

  “I’m sorry to be inquisitive,” said Dominic, “but what is this?”

  “There’s been an incident at Port Sitges,” Alfonso replied guardedly. “I was making some notes on it.”

  “What are these numbers?” Dominic pointed at the notepad.

  Alfonso glanced down. “Oh, those are the GPS coordinates for where they found the body.” He looked up at Dominic. “They’ve found a body in the water at the port,” he added by way of explanation.

  “That’s it!” cried Dominic. “The first set of numbers in the message that Bernhardt sent me. They’re almost in the same format. But they had the sign for degrees and the north and west symbols missing. But now I see this”—Dominic indicated the notepad—“they’re clearly GPS coordinates. I’ll go and tell Jonathan.”

  Dominic turned and left the kitchen.

  Alfonso stared at Gabriel, who shrugged.

  “Well,” he said, smiling at Alfonso. “Let’s hope their adventure helps to bring them back together again. Why don’t you take Jonathan his drink? I think he’s going to need it.”

  Chapter 23

  STEVE REACHED over to the small table next to his chair and picked up the glass of India pale ale Sinon had brought for him earlier. He took a mouthful of beer and reveled in its hoppy taste. Steve was a big fan of West Coast America’s IPA. He preferred it to the taste of the British original. In San Francisco alone, there were over thirty microbrewed India pale ales to choose from, for which Steve was immensely grateful. He stretched out languidly on the steamer deck chair and looked around him.

  Sinon had rented an elegant one-room apartment attached to an old Edwardian inn at the heart of San Francisco’s Castro district. The apartment was on the ground floor of the building. A set of timber-and-glass floor-to-ceiling doors opened out onto a small garden. The garden was filled with mature trees and shrubs. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves, and Steve enjoyed its warmth on his body. The pain from his recent surgery had subsided to a dull ache, and he hoped he could soon stop walking like an extra from Brokeback Mountain.

  He took a mobile phone from his pocket and switched it on. It was one he rarely used in the UK, and he was confident it would not be linked to him if it was tracked. To reduce the risk further, he kept it turned off, and only turned it on periodically to check for messages. He took another mouthful of beer while he waited for the phone to start up.

  Two text messages appeared on the screen, both from Dominic. The first told him of Dominic’s idea about the GPS codes, and the second had details of their flight information for the following day. Steve reached for his laptop. After a few moments, he found the message he had retrieved from Dominic’s mobile message store:

  38 35 25.603 121 48 11.249

  Turn to the feet of Adam

  03 15 26 21

  June 1

  He pulled up a mapping website on his screen that converted GPS coordinates to addresses, typed in the coordinates, and waited for the results to appear. A red dot flashed over a California town, no bigger than a crossroads, calle
d Plainfield. It was a couple of miles to the west of Sacramento. Steve switched to the website’s street view and explored the town virtually. There was very little to see. Plainfield was predominantly open fields, a few barns, and some houses. He wondered if the street view was out of date. Maybe a new building had been put up in the intervening time. He checked the dates on the photographs. They had been taken in the summer of the previous year. Steve switched the map to satellite view and zoomed it in as far as he could. Of what he could see, there was nothing that looked significant or important.

  “Hey, what you up to?” Sinon appeared in the open doorway of the apartment. He was wearing a pair of board shorts and a loose-fitting sleeveless white T-shirt. “How’s the beer?”

  “The glass is empty, if you’re offering,” replied Steve.

  Sinon stepped out into the garden and walked over to an empty steamer deck chair next to Steve. He stripped off his shirt and sat down.

  “I’ve got to go back to the hackfest soon,” Sinon replied, stretching out his legs. “Before they miss me and maybe connect me with you. But I want to catch a few rays before the sun goes for the day.”

  “Thanks for letting me crash here, mate,” said Steve, admiring the curves of Sinon’s thighs. “Great spot. How did you find it?”

  “A mate of mine introduced me to Johann, who owns it, a couple of years ago,” replied Sinon. “Johann’s been running this place for nearly twenty years. He came from Holland originally. The year before last, I stayed here for Folsom. Johann’s really laid-back.” Sinon reached across to Steve and placed his hand at the top of his thigh. “There’s nothing that will faze him.”

  Keeping his hand on Steve’s thigh, Sinon leaned over to try to see the laptop screen. “What are you looking at?”

  Steve swiveled the laptop around so Sinon could see the screen clearly. “Remember I told you about my friends on their honeymoon in Sitges?”