by S. Burke
Henry breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that she had spoken and recognized him as well was a good sign. He headed over to the bar, topped up Trish’s glass and brought the bottle back to the table. “James, there are more glasses in the bar, grab three of them.”
James did and returned to the coffee table next to the chair, pouring a good measure into three glasses. Henry and Jeffrey drank theirs neat. James located a bottle of soda in the refrigerator and diluted his, looking at his watch and recognizing with surprise that it was only 8:30 a.m.
Trish again drained her glass. Henry watched her closely, concern etched on his face. He didn’t want her getting drunk, they needed to talk. Trish attempted to stand, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She did manage to reach across and take the scotch, pouring another stiff measure into her glass with hands that didn’t shake as much as before.
“Don’t worry, Henry. I can hold my liquor.”
Henry sat, heavily. The twins followed his lead and joined him on the sofa. Henry turned to them. “Guys, I need you to get in some supplies.” He stood and left the room, returning soon after with a notepad and pen.
Alcohol topped the list. Henry knew Trish would not be the only one needing it. He was still reeling as the information he was now privy too began to really sink in.
Jeffrey and James spoke little, not knowing exactly what Trish and Henry had shared, but aware it was pivotal, and would probably lead to the person or persons who murdered their father. They now had to place their trust in these two people, and could only hope that trust wasn’t misplaced.
Henry handed James the completed list; it contained supplies for a minimum of four weeks.
James flicked through it briefly and acknowledged it was sensible. It would take him and his brother several hours to fill it.
Henry counted on the twins not asking too many questions, unable to give them satisfactory answers. Not yet, and possibly not ever.
The young men left, and the two remaining sat silent for several minutes, unsure how to begin a conversation of this importance.
“Do we have absolute proof that our government is directly involved in what transpired in Afghanistan?” Henry asked.
“The sketch, Henry. The sketch had our flag being held by that thing, the reaper. The flag was torn and blood-stained, the bodies, the dead horses, and the syringe in its right hand … what other conclusion is there?” Trish was unaware her voice had risen in anger.
“Easy, Trish. Take it easy. The sketches proved that Quentin Hamersley knew two of the other ‘Countdown’ victims. Plus he obviously knew the Harrington woman. That’s more information than we’ve ever had access to before. But, and it’s a big but, are the pictures of horror, and their apparent link to our country, proof? Or are they a nightmare victim number one shared with the other victims? Do we have further proof that our country was involved?”
Trish stood and walked unsteadily over to the window, looking out at the boat ramp and the river, surprised that everything outside was so normal when all she could see and feel at that moment was chaos.
“You’d better top up our drinks, Henry. I have more to tell you.” She continued to stand with her back to the Deputy Director. She couldn’t look at him just yet. “I need a cigarette.”
Henry took a packet out of his inside pocket, withdrew a cigarette, lit it and handed it to Trish. Then he lit one for himself. “What else?”
Trish drew heavily on the cigarette and turned around. She walked back and sat in the easy chair, poured herself a fresh drink, poured Henry one, and took a shuddering breath. Henry and Ted Prendergast had been close. In fact, Ted had often told her that Henry was one of the few people in the world he would entrust his life to. How did she tell him what he needed to know?
She only knew of one way and that was straight up.
“Henry, Ted was having a relationship with Sheila Harrington, right up to a week or so before he was shot.” Trish watched his face closely and was satisfied with what she saw there.
His face paled, and he shook his head rapidly from side to side as if in doing so he could shake out what he’d heard. “No, no! You’re wrong. He would have said something to me. He would have said something when she was being questioned and tailed.”
“I’m not wrong, Henry. I wish to God I was. Tell me, please, what was Ted’s reaction when he was briefed on who we were questioning? Why was it you and not Ted that discussed the case with the Task Force? After all the pressure he’d been getting to find answers to the puzzle of the ‘Countdown’ murders- why wasn’t he the one to set the parameters for further action? Where was he? What could possibly have been so important that he handed the case of his career over to you?”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“Tell me, Henry. Let’s try between us to make some sense of all this.”
“I need to hear what it was that the boys told you, Trish. Then I’ll tell you what I do know for certain.”
“Jeff and James had noted changes in their father’s behaviour, drinking more, talking less, at least to them. His usual patterns of behaviour altered significantly. He even dyed his hair.”
“So, he was having some sort of mid-life crisis? Not unusual,” Henry said.
“It was more than that. The boys were meant to be away for a weekend, a week or so prior to Ted’s death. They decided not to go in favour of a party in town that promised more fun. They weren’t meant to be home, Henry. The two of them were upstairs when they heard their father moaning and, concerned that he may be ill, they opened his bedroom door. He was strung up and naked … wearing a dog-collar and handcuffs. The woman he was with was using a cane on him … and he was, well, he was begging her to hit him harder. The woman wore a leather mask and thigh-high boots. She was calling Ted some dreadful names and he was crying and asking her forgiveness, telling her he deserved more punishment. The boys know that their father wasn’t aware they had opened the door, but they are fairly confident that the woman was. They swear she turned towards them and smiled. They both left, in rather a hurry. Shocked and disgusted by what they had, they vowed never to talk of it again.” Trish looked at Henry to gauge his reaction.
He looked ill. “Oh, God. What else?”
“The twins heard occasional telephone calls their father made. They couldn’t hear the other party, of course, but their father referred to whoever was on the other end of the phone as ‘Baby’ and ‘Dark Lady’.”
“Did the female come back to the house?”
“The boys don’t think so, but Jeffrey borrowed Ted’s car one afternoon, and promised to have it back by six. He lost track of time. James recalls his father calling the ‘Dark Lady’ apologizing like a child for being late. Shortly after that call someone honked a horn outside, and he took a look through the curtains; the vehicle was a Porsche, Henry. James can’t recall the colour.”
“Fuck!” was all Henry managed to say.
“Thoughts?” Trish asked.
“When the boys return, I’ll need to leave for a short while. In light of what you have told me, and what I have seen myself, I need to get something from home and share it with you. Can I ask you not to say anything further to the boys at this stage?”
“Of course. I’m sorry I got them involved. I just couldn’t risk you knowing it was me you were meeting. But they know absolutely nothing about this,” she said, holding up the sketch book. “Henry, do you have a safe here?”
“Yes.”
“Please, lock this away. I will need the combination. I trust you, but I’ll feel a lot safer when this dynamite is locked up securely.”
“Understood. It’s this way.” He pointed toward the bedroom and showed Trish the floor safe, and shared the combination with her.
“I don’t know how we’ll handle this yet, Trish, but we will decide together. Our own safety will be paramount. Yes? We can do nothing if we are exposed. There will be nowhere on the planet where we can be safe if that happens. We’ll talk further when the boys have gone home
. Okay?”
Trish gave Henry a warm hug. “I feel a little better already, knowing I have someone I can trust means a great deal.”
“For me as well.” said Henry.
The knock on the door announced the arrival of Jeff and James, each struggling with armloads of bags and boxes.
Henry and Trish helped relieve them of their burdens, and Henry showed Trish where everything was kept. He switched on the hot water, located clean towels, and changed the sheets on his bed.
He wanted her to stay here where he could talk to her; he’d swing by her place and pick up the things she would need to stay for some time, or at least until he found her a completely safe alternative.
Trish was relieved to be engaged in a mundane task, anything to offer her exhausted brain momentary respite from the torment that threatened to break her.
Henry watched her for a minute or so, pleased that she was on her feet, and satisfied that she appeared to be pulling herself together.
“James, do you need to be anywhere in particular in the next hour or two?” Henry asked.
James looked across at Jeff for an answer.
Jeff responded to the question. “Not a problem, Henry. What do you need us to do?”
“I have to go out and pick up a few things to make Trish more comfortable. She may be staying here for a while and I don’t really want her left alone for the moment. Would you guys mind?”
“We’ll fix lunch, and try to distract her.” James said.
“No questions, please. She’s fragile right now. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Thanks.”
Trish came into the sitting room and with an apologetic look at Henry poured herself another drink.
“Don’t be concerned, you’ll get no lectures on the evils of alcohol from me, Trish. The booze is an occupational hazard … I don’t know a single agent that hasn’t hit it hard at some stage of their careers. Now, what would you like me to grab at your apartment?”
Trish thought for a moment or two, “All my toiletries are in a bag in the rental car. Shit! That has to go back! Unless? No, I’ll keep it for a week or so. Henry, this is purely a female thing, so I guess it won’t make much sense, but I would prefer buying everything new, I can use my credit card- oh wait, no, not smart, too easy to trace …”
Henry responded, “I understand the new thing. You want to feel clean, and the old stuff all have memories attached. I have more than enough funds on hand to cover purchases. Make me a list, include sizes. Oh, and colour preferences.” He had to smile at the stunned expression on her face. “I have seven sisters, Trish. I am the eldest, so I got to be the practice boyfriend for each of them. That included some horrible shopping stories, which I’ll tell you about some other time. I’ll be gone at least two hours, depends on the list, but don’t stint, you need to be comfortable here and clothes will help that.”
Trish gave Henry a spontaneous embrace, assured him she would be fine and headed into the bedroom to think carefully about what she would need, grateful for the fact that Henry had given her yet another temporary distraction.
Henry decided to first pick up the letter Ted had written, and then do the shopping. He was sweating and edgy; he had limited experience with sweating, being one of those males who can be terrified and not break a sweat. It had proven a useful tool when being interrogated. Edgy? Hell, yeah, but right here and right now he needed that edginess. He did his best work when he was pumped like this.
Anger was an issue. He wanted to smash and destroy those who had perpetuated this horrendous, evil act of inhumanity he and the rest of a stunned world had been witness to whilst sipping coffee in their sitting rooms feeling so grateful they were safe.
He needed time to marshal his thoughts, but that would have to wait until after the boys had left. He parked a block away from his home, and walked briskly, on high alert for anyone that may be tailing him. Logic told him there would be no reason for anyone to do so, at least not yet, but ‘old habits die hard’.
Henry pulled the front door towards him and heard the reassuring click, which meant that the alarm was still on. It took him longer than usual to remember the code to disarm it.
After giving the foyer a quick scrutiny, he headed straight for the safe, immensely relieved to find it still locked and the letter untouched.
He forced himself to read it again. In light of what he and Trish had already discussed, the contents made more sense. Ted Prendergast had played a major role in unleashing hell.
His hands shook as he slid the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket. He glanced around again, locked the safe, and threw up. Dropping to his knees, he pounded the floor until his knuckles bled, and then he lay down and wept.
The tsunami of tears stopped after a while. Henry had no strength left; all he wanted at that moment was to sleep, to escape the madness that now marked his world.
It didn’t take long before he understood there was no escape; his memory would hold the images of death for his lifetime, together with mental portraits of those that had betrayed everything his country stood for. They didn’t know who these people were, yet. Apart from Ted Prendergast, a key player.
Henry was a student of human nature. He understood his country would suffer a worldwide fall from grace it would never recover from if this ever got out. The people of the United States were accustomed to being regarded as lucky to live in their country. It fed the human ego to belong to a large population admired for their moral stance on matters of human suffering. Patriotism started in the womb. Of course there would always be dissenters; every country that practiced free-speech had those. But the free world would see his country as the harbinger of death, and retaliation would be swift and harsh on every level.
Reluctant to move at all, Henry stood slowly. No choice, fool. He stretched his arms, and then cleaned up the vomit. After rifling through his clothes, he grabbed a few things and went to have a hot shower.
His own stench made him gag.
The shower helped, a little.
He donned black jeans and a sweatshirt, gave his greying hair a quick lick of the brush, and left the house.
Now it was time to go shopping for Trish.
He didn’t rush it, it was important that Trish be comfortable at the very least, and he added a few selections of less casual apparel that may be necessary.
Arriving back at his weekender two and a half hours after leaving, Trish and the twins were nowhere to be found in the house. Henry’s heart rate surged as adrenalin kicked in. He rechecked each room and caught the sound of Trish’s voice through the open window of the bedroom.
He followed the sound and shook with relief to find the three of them sitting outside on his private jetty, each holding a drink. He copied them and grabbed a beer, not wanting the boys to see just how shaken he was. They were already dangerously focused on finding Ted’s assassin. That was another important problem he and Trish would need to present a united front on.
Henry opened the sliding doors and joined them.
“Your new clothes and the other things you needed are in the bedroom, Trish.” Henry said as he sat next to her.
“Thanks so much, Henry. No problems with anything?”
“None at all. I hope you like what I selected.”
“I’m sure I will. If you don’t mind I’ll grab a shower and get changed now.”
“Fine by me.”
Trish turned to Jeff and James. “Thanks for distracting me, guys.”
“You’re welcome, Trish.” James responded.
Trish gave them a smile and headed up. A shower and change of clothes would help her feel a little more in control of her emotions; temporarily at least. She was certain Henry would have the twins leave as soon as he could do so without raising their already overactive antennae.
Henry was about to do exactly what Trish had surmised.
“Henry, did Trish tell you anything worthwhile, I mean, you know, something that could lead
to Dad’s killer?” Jeff asked with no preamble.
“I will be checking every detail of what Trish and I discussed. You both know that your father was my closest friend and I will not stop looking for his murderer, whatever and however long it takes. But you must also be aware by now that Trish is desperately clutching at straws. Your father’s death has hit her incredibly hard, and coming as it has when she is also stressed to the max working on the task force team … let’s just say it has taken a toll. I will check every detail, as I said, but I need to prepare you both that I anticipate coming to a dead end with the information.”
“Thanks, Henry. We had already figured that Trish might be overreacting to stuff that won’t lead anywhere. But we’ll feel better knowing you will check it out,” Jeff said and extended his hand.
Henry shook it then pulled Jeff into a hug. He turned and did the same with James. “Ted would be so proud of you both. You guys are handling this with incredible maturity.”
“We’re gonna head off now, Henry. I think you and Trish will get further along with your discussions if we aren’t here.” James said.
“Thanks, guys. I think you may be right.”
“One of us will give you a call in a day or so. Give Trish a hug from us. We know she’s in good hands.”
Without further conversation the two young men headed back up to the house, with Henry following behind. They left and Henry deadlocked the door behind them.
He could hear the shower running and relaxed just a little.
Trish found him asleep on the sofa when she emerged. She covered him with the rug that sat on the easy chair, and then pulled the curtains across the double doors. There was no sign of the twins. Henry must have encouraged them to go home.
Trish sat on the sofa. She looked at the newly opened bottle of Jack Daniels and gave a shrug … what the hell, I’m already drunk, may as well do a damned good job of it.
Henry awoke with a start, looked around him and calmed a little as the memory of the day flooded back. Trish sat nearby and gave him a smile.