If Athena was sensing impending tragedy, then Anna’s own dream—from the previous night—was validated. In the dream, she saw an open casket but not who was in it, Lorena Skoros draped in black and their Greek-American friends all wearing black armbands. Despite all of Lorena’s warnings to her sons, Anna feared that fate awaited one of these two young men. Poor soul.
Anna’s eyes rested again on her daughter as she hesitated over her canvas.
“’Thena, leave that alone for now and get dressed. We’ll walk and talk. I have several important tidbits of information to share with you.”
Finally, her daughter sighed heavily and began wrapping her brushes in foil, keeping them damp and ready for her return.
“I’ve been going at it since six this morning. I’m so bleary-eyed. God, where has the day gone? I’ve had no problem with his body. It’s his face, his expression I can’t seem to…Oh well, time for a break.”
Forty minutes later, her daughter was walking beside her. Wearing her usual jeans, sweater, one side of her parka on, the left side slung over her shoulder and casted arm like a cape, her left hand holding it in place, Athena looked like a young teenager instead of a twenty-year-old. A white knit cap held her blonde hair in place as it streamed down her back, reminding Anna of the white-haired four-year-old that her daughter used to be. Athena exited Lime Court and proceeded to march up Portobello Road, eager to sample Dorkers’ latest creations of scones. Anna had to clutch at her sleeve to get her to slow down a little, the girl’s legs were so long, her stride so wide.
“Sorry, Mum. How’s Father bearing up under all the strain? Is he able to relax a bit?”
“The soccer’s a good distraction for him. Good for Chris, too, to spend a day with his father and uncle.”
“Yeah, male bonding and all that.”
“We’ve been invited—all of us, in fact—to the Ministers’ New Year’s Eve Ball, but of course, we’ll be in Como then. There will be a number of social events when the Prime Minister arrives in Washington, including a State Dinner at the White House. Your father and I have been invited to that as well.”
Athena looked impressed. “Wow, a dinner at the White House. How did Father pull that off?”
That earned a surprised smile from Anna. “You had a lot to do with that, figlia mia. Sir Peter Willcott is including us in the British delegation, his way of rewarding us for having such a brave daughter.” She gave her daughter a quick, loose hug, ever mindful of Athena’s arm cast and sling. “Brave but foolish, I might add. You’re invited, too, and Chris. Isn’t that quite an honor?”
Athena looked nonplussed. “But my arm will still be in a sling! And everyone’ll be in formal wear! Oh brother, of all times to have a bum arm.”
“Your arm? No, not by then, the cast should be off in a month or two. The PM’s visit has been postponed until March. Your father feels that the ambassador has given the PM false reassurance that all is well, no more threat to his safety. Several ministers have finally convinced him that extra precautions need to be taken, and so the visit has been postponed.” She sighed audibly. “I’m quite worried. Lorena and I have been having terrible dreams, not only about Alex and Kas, but also about the PM’s visit. Sir Peter thinks all is well, now that those Serbian mercenaries are out of the picture. Quite the contrary, we believe.”
“Maybe your dreams are just dreams of worry, anxiety. Y’know, like me dreaming I’ve flunked my Western Civ exam. I know I didn’t, but I still dream of failing it. How daft is that?” When Anna remained silent, Athena added, “So you think the Serbs weren’t bluffing? There’s a second team of terrorists on standby?”
“We believe so,” Anna replied solemnly. “Lorena and I, anyway. The security details do, too. At least, they’re not discounting the idea.”
“What can we do to help, Mum?” Athena asked.
Anna shrugged. “You and I are supposed to do nothing.” She brightened suddenly. Mustn’t dwell on the negative, she thought. Postponement was an excellent idea, considering how close those Serbian thugs had come to her family. “I’m certain Max and the other security officers know what they’re doing. With the FBI’s assistance, they’ll sort it all out.”
They stopped at Notting Hill Gate to let a convoy of trucks pass, then crossed over to Kensington Church Street. A couple of blocks to the left were Kensington Gardens and the Palace where Princess Diana once lived. They were veering to their right, however, up Campden Hill to Kensington High Street, where Dorkers reigned supreme. At five o’clock, the pub—with the bakery next door—was filled to overflowing. They were lucky to find a table when a family of four suddenly finished and got up to leave.
They studied the enticing menu. All sorts and types of scones were offered.
“Ooh, here’s a new one,” cooed Athena. “Apricot and walnut. Doesn’t that sound frightfully yummy? I’ll take two and skip dinner.”
“The fig and pistachio sounds good to me,” said Anna. When the server departed, she took a card out of her purse. The card stock appeared custom-made and the printing was scrolled in ornate, calligraphic style. “We just received this. An announcement of Alex Skoros’s upcoming wedding to Nikki Theopoulis.”
She handed it to Athena and watched her jaw drop. Was it what she feared, that her daughter actually had a crush on Alex instead of Kas? Curious, she seized Athena’s right forearm, which her daughter shook off gently, smiling wryly.
“Just ask, Mum. No tricks. And no, I’m not hurt—shocked, yes, that it’s happening so soon. Alex is such a playboy. Kas doesn’t like her, says she’s a GAP, a Greek-American Princess. I wonder what hold she has over free-as-a-bird Alex. When’s the wedding?”
Anna withdrew her hand and gave her daughter a half-apologetic smile. Inwardly, she was greatly relieved. So it definitely was Kas that her daughter had been pining over. She hadn’t said two words about him since they’d returned from California.
“In two months. It does seem sudden, doesn’t it? He spoke of her only once while we were there. Lorena said he was dating a number of girls, that was all.”
Anna’s attention began drifting elsewhere as she gazed around the pub, but her daughter’s voice, soft and wistful, drew her back.
“Kas told me about her, this Nikki, when we were there. That she’s determined to snare poor Alex. She probably got PG just to force him to marry her. I guess now it’s out. I imagine Alex wouldn’t tie the knot unless he had to. I wonder if Kas is…Well, maybe not, since Kas seems to march to his own drummer. I suppose that’s one of the qualities I like about him.”
Anna decided to say nothing, not even ask her daughter to confirm the meaning of PG, or what she had begun to say about Kas. It was clear that Athena’s thoughts were filled with Kas Skoros. They both occupied themselves with their tea and scones. They sampled a bit of each other’s and exchanged opinions.
Smiling, Anna changed to a cheerier topic. “Have you heard from that young man, Dan? The painter?”
“Yes, he’s called a few times.” Athena shot her a quelling look. End of story. Obviously wanting to change the topic, her daughter frowned and shot back a question. “Have you heard from Detective Palomino?” The pub’s noise level had increased to near shouting volume, so Anna had to lean toward forward to hear her daughter.
“Ah, yes, an update on the serial killer—rather, the alleged serial killer.” Anna sighed, then launched into an update. A container ship with an American registry, the Baltimore Bullworth, had left the U.S. over three weeks ago, stopped over in several West African ports of call, and then went on its way to Abu Dhabi with half a shipload of small electronic and automobile parts. On its return trip via the Indian Ocean, it was taking on Indian computer parts and textiles at various Indian ports, and making a stop in Vietnam for furniture, and in Japan for cars and motorcycles.
“According to the detective, if he doesn’t jump ship at one of these ports,” Anna explained, “this Person of Interest will eventually return to his home port of Baltimo
re and will be taken into custody. All they can do is question him and try to extract a confession, or at least some information that might aid the District Attorney’s office in indicting him for murder. Palomino said he wasn’t going to hold his breath, waiting for either one. They’ve searched the brothers’ place of business, that electricians’ shop. Nothing’s there that could help them. No sign of the younger brother.”
Athena shook her head. “He’s too smart to leave any evidence behind. They should question his shipmates. Oh, and contact the local police at those ports-of-call, see if any girls show up dead. Wouldn’t that be too coincidental?”
Her daughter sounded so cynical and pessimistic. Not for the first time, Anna wondered whether, by exposing her daughter to such human ugliness, she’d succeeded only in making her lose faith in the basic goodness of mankind. Still, the veil has to come off for everyone at some point in life. Doesn’t it?
Was this cynicism an unintended consequence of their God-given gift? Anna looked away.
Or did God intend that we should be on the alert for the evil among us and because of our clairvoyance, be able to see it before anyone else? So that we can do some good to offset the bad? Or at least warn others to beware? Can we save lives and bring some justice to the world with our gift? Shouldn’t we try?
Athena was now smiling at someone behind Anna, so Anna turned around. Max and Trevor’s secretary, Winston Blake, had just walked into the pub, their gazes landing immediately on the two women. The two men, about the same age, approached with Max in the lead.
“Fancy meeting up with you two lovely ladies.” Max, who, like Athena, was casually dressed in jeans, leather jacket and boots, smiled at them. “I was just taking Win for a spin on my new Harley, or Hog, as the Americans call it. Athena, you’ve met your father’s new secretary, haven’t you? No? Mrs. Butler, you have, I believe.” With Anna’s brisk nod, he introduced Winston Blake to Athena. They shook hands, his grasp lingering long past propriety, until Max raised his eyebrows. Anna considered him nice enough, but too handsome and vain for his own good. However, her husband liked him, considering him a very capable right-hand man.
“Don’t be such a sod, Win. She’s too young for you, ol’ boy.” Max laughed and addressed the two women. “Win was with our Embassy in Tripoli, Libya and before that, Riyadh in Saudi Arabia. He’s one of my Cambridge mates, so too old for you, Athena. Keep that in mind, Win. My job’s protecting her and the rest of the Butlers, until this nasty business blows over. And that means protecting her from chaps like you.”
Both men laughed. To cover Athena’s flustered expression and apparently blank confusion, Anna asked them what had brought them to Kensington.
“We stopped to visit some schoolmates of ours who live in South Kensington near Warwick Gardens.” Max gestured at their table. “Of course, who hasn’t heard of Dorkers? We said we’d pick up some scones on our way to meeting them later in Piccadilly. Did you have a good Christmas?”
Anna said they had and chatted with them for a few more minutes before the men left. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned to her daughter, whose face looked as pale as the scone on her plate.
“What’s the matter, ’Thena?” Her daughter looked down at her hand, which was holding a spoon and stirring an empty cup of tea.
“I don’t know, maybe nothing, Mum,” she murmured breathlessly.
“Listen to your instincts, figla mia. What did you see?”
Athena’s deep green eyes rose to meet her mother’s. They held for several seconds before she spoke.
“Maybe I should talk to Max tomorrow. He’ll laugh in my face, and think I’m totally blinkered, but… Remember what he said, the danger of an insider, someone inside the Embassy who knows what all the plans are for the PM’s visit?” She glanced over at the pub’s side door, through which the two men had just entered the bakery section. “Well, I think I may’ve found him.”
Anna sat back, stunned.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ignoring her mother’s warning not to reveal her suspicions to anyone before speaking with her father, Athena used her cell phone to contact Max late that night. She felt he was just placating her, but he agreed to meet her for coffee very early the next morning. Before anyone in their household—her parents, Uncle Terence Butler, or Chris—woke up, she was trudging up Portobello Road, her parka clasped around her. The air was chilly and the sky a leaden gray. Dark clouds presaged rain. The air was so moist, she could almost lick the condensation.
A little needle of guilt pricked her. Maybe she should have listened to her mother and described what she’d seen to her father to get his opinion first, but she had chosen to listen to her own instincts. And they told her to act—now!
In Kensington village, a new coffeehouse had arrived during their absence, and it had become a popular social mecca for locals and tourists alike. At seven that morning, however, only commuters were there. An angry Max fumed in one corner, his back to the wall, watching everyone who entered and left. He’d bought her a latte, so she took her seat quickly. Without preamble, he launched into his tirade.
“Miss Butler, the only reason I came is out of respect for your father. But he doesn’t know you’re here, does he? Whatever you suspect about Winston Blake, just remember he’s a mate of mine, and we go way back. I’ve never seen anything in his behavior or job folder that would make me even consider the possibility that he’d be a traitor to queen and country. So you’d better be sodding well confident that your information is correct.”
His cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy, Max looked ready to grab and shake her silly. Athena took stock of herself and decided to proceed slowly and cautiously.
“Max, or whatever your real name is, I’m going to tell you something about myself, something you will most assuredly find difficult to believe.”
“It better knock my socks off!” He sipped his coffee, his dark blue eyes trained on her, looking for any sign that she’d completely gone mad, she knew. Or worse, that she was conniving and dishonest.
“When I was nine years old, I became clairvoyant,” she began tenuously. “My mother has this skill, and her mother, also. It runs in the family, Max. We’re the modern-day descendants of a long bloodline that we believe goes as far back as ancient Greece. Perhaps even further back, we don’t know. When we touch people, or things that they’ve touched, we can see things. Read their minds, see into their lives, their emotions, their memories, things that are important to them in some way.”
“Bollocks!” He sat back, his lids lowering to half-mast. A humorless smile curled up half his mouth. “I knew there was something strange about you. You’re fucking delusional.”
Athena shuddered a little, feeling the sting of rejection. This was exactly why her mother tried to protect her, by keeping their skills a secret. But when lives were at stake, wasn’t it worth the risk of being hurt? She drank some coffee before an idea struck her.
“Okay, not surprising, your reaction. Give me your hand, Max. Think of something that happened to you that no one else on this earth knows about. Please, indulge me. Then, if you don’t believe me, I’ll apologize for taking up your valuable holiday time.”
“This is fucking lunacy.” Max rolled his eyes and very slowly placed his left hand on the table, his right hand, she noticed, was burrowed in his jacket pocket, always gun-ready, always on the alert for danger.
She leaned forward and grasped his left hand and held it firmly, waiting for the images and emotions to transfer into her consciousness. Not fully prepared for the anger that flooded her, she suppressed her sudden fear and calmed herself. Certainly, he wouldn’t shoot her, would he? She inhaled slowly, exhaled slowly.
Wait for it…wait for it….
What she saw and felt made her smile on the surface but cringe underneath. What little boys do to protect their mothers. Was that what had propelled Max into a career in law enforcement? He had a deep need to protect people he cared about, and by extension
the queen, country, and their representatives.
She let go of his hand and watched him smirk. “Astound me with your cheap little parlor tricks, ol’ girl.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled, calmed herself down. If he didn’t believe her, then what?
“Okay, here’s what I saw. You were about five or six, I think, some time after your parents divorced, and you were missing your father. Your mother was dating a man who had a dog and a car, a Range Rover. This man seemed to care more about this car than your mother. He was a bully, and your mother let him dominate her. He wouldn’t let you ride in his Range Rover unless you sat on a towel. He called you Poop Face. One day you got a rag, dipped it into the toilet and then smeared your…uh, poop, uh, feces all over the cargo floor of his Rover. You threw away the rag and then pretended his dog did it. He knew it was you, and he never came back. You never told your mother what you did. Your mother was sad, but only for a short time, because she met your stepfather after that, and you two got along fine.” Athena sat back, satisfied that she’d glimpsed the truth of Max’s memory. “All in all, a fairly ingenious way to drive off your mother’s wanker of a suitor.”
She lifted her eyes to Max’s. His jaw had dropped. “How the fuck—”
Shrugging, she drank the rest of her coffee.
Max kept murmuring, “How the fuck—”
Finally, she set her cup down.
“Max, I couldn’t tell you how this works any more than a child prodigy like Mozart or Michelangelo could explain how his gift worked. It just does. My mother has a theory—unproven, of course—that it’s a gift from God. That God allows us to tap into something like a river of universal human consciousness. Like an entire history of human experience that goes back into time, since the dawn of mankind, but also taps into the present and future. Like a special energy source. She calls it The Flow. I don’t know about that. I can read a dog’s conscious mind, also, so maybe it’s just an extraordinary mental skill that some people and maybe all animals have, but in varying degrees. Like any skill set, y’know? Like my artistic skill, only more rare and extraordinary.”
Athena's Secrets Page 18