by Mary Birk
“I want you to do well. My time will come.” This time it was her leaning over to kiss him. “Will we get a raise?”
“Not so you’d notice.”
“I suppose we’ll have to squeak by on whatever it is. At least until I’m bringing in some money.” She smiled.
“Do you even know what my salary is?”
“Nope.”
He chuckled. “Let’s get home and get this baby down for a nap. We could use a nap as well.”
“We?”
“You and me.”
Anne cut her eyes at him. “I suppose you’re going to try to get at me again.”
“Count on it.”
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, if you must, you must, but I have a few more questions while we’re on the subject of careers and failure to communicate.”
“Go on.”
“Were you or were you not in the Navy?”
He was starting to see a pattern here. “What’s Claudia say?”
“She says you and John Stirling were in Intelligence.”
“We were in Intelligence, but technically, we were Royal Navy. There was some shuffling around of some units during that time between the military and various agencies, so the lines were blurred, but my paycheck came from the Navy. A very small paycheck, if salaries are still of interest.”
“I was kidding about that. I know we’re not living on your salary.”
He made a face, as if telling her something painful. “I don’t know. It’s a good thing you might be bringing in some money soon. Otherwise, we may have to cut back on the frills.”
“Not as long as whiskey is selling so well. Don’t forget, I’ve seen your bank accounts.”
“Our bank accounts.”
“Whatever. I’m not done with my questions. Are you in MI-5?”
“Whose idea was it for you and Claudia to be friends?”
“Yours. Are you?”
“You could say that, though, again, it’s not quite so clear.”
“But Nelson Schilling is the head of MI-5 in Scotland, and Claudia says he’s your boss.”
“I have three bosses, as you call them. He’s one, McMurty’s one, and Shreve is the other.”
“Are you also in the police?”
“Partially.”
“And partially in something else?”
“Right.”
“Why were you keeping all this secret from me?”
“I wasn’t. I’m sure at some point I told you I was being given responsibility over a team that would be a liaison between various agencies.” He didn’t want to remind her that when he’d gotten the job, she’d been too busy with her own career to pay much attention, or that she’d left him weeks later.
“You didn’t name the agencies.”
“I must have.”
“I’d have remembered if you’d said MI-5. Claudia also said you might soon be taking Nelson Schilling’s place. I know for sure you’ve never mentioned that.”
“I’m not certain I want the job.”
“Why wouldn’t you want it?”
“It could impact our lives significantly.”
“Isn’t MI-5 in charge of fighting terrorism?”
“That’s one of the main functions.”
“That’s very important. Are you afraid you won’t be good at it?”
He looked at her, not knowing whether or not to be offended. “What do you think, lassie?”
She smiled, and he realized she’d been teasing him. “You’d be great.”
“Thank you. We’ll talk about it when the time gets closer, all right?”
“Okay. What will happen to your team if you take the MI-5 job?”
“I’m hoping to have Harry take over.”
“Does he know?”
“Not yet.”
“You need to tell him. Communication, remember?”
“Aye, I will. When the time’s right.”
They’d reached the driveway. Sebastian hit the remote control, and the gates in front of their house opened.
“Any more questions?”
“Yes, one.”
“Ask away.”
“How many children do you really want? Every time I ask you won’t give me a straight answer.”
He reached for her hand. “All of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“How many are you willing to have?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, I want all of them.”
SATURDAY, APRIL 3
Chapter 21
HARRY HANDED Siobhan a glass of water and got back into bed. Tonight had been fun, but he wished she’d go home so he could wake up Sunday morning without her. Maybe he could at least get her out of the house early. As tomorrow was Easter, she’d be heading to her family’s house, anyway. He had plans to spend Easter with some of his old mates at a hunting lodge outside the city. There’d be no hunting, but there would be a lot of drinking and cards.
“I’m setting the alarm for seven. Okay with you?”
Siobhan nodded sleepily, and he turned off the lights, just as he heard Allison coming in the front door. She’d been out with Michaud. He was fairly sure it had been their first date, though she hadn’t actually said that. From his own experience, he would have expected Allison either to have brought Michaud home with her earlier in the evening, or stayed over at Michaud’s house. That’s how his dates ended, anyway.
He was drifting off into sleep when the doorbell rang, long and loud and insistent. He assumed Allison would deal with it, but it kept ringing.
Siobhan, who’d already fallen asleep, woke up and cursed.
“I’ll have a look at what’s going on.” He stepped into his jeans, slid his holster and weapon on, and went downstairs.
Allison, her eyes red-rimmed, sat in front of the big screen telly, watching a show with the volume down so low she couldn’t possibly hear it. The doorbell rang yet again.
“The doorbell’s ringing, sweetcakes.”
She nodded.
“It’s for you, I presume?”
She nodded again.
Her mobile rang. She ignored it.
“Your phone’s ringing.”
She picked up her phone and flipped the ringer off. In a few minutes, the doorbell rang again.
“Your date?”
“Yes.”
“Fight?”
She shrugged. “Kind of.”
The doorbell rang again. Siobhan yelled from upstairs for Harry to tell whoever it was to cut it out.
Allison glanced up to the stairs, then for the first time seemed to register they weren’t alone. “Oh, sorry.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t seem to get him to go away.”
“Want me to tell him?”
She bobbed her head yes. “Tell him I’m asleep or in the bath, or something.”
Harry went to the door, and opening it, found himself facing a distraught Eddie Michaud. “I’m going to have to ask you to go home now. Your date is asleep, and my date is fast approaching major pissed off at you for ringing the doorbell when she’s trying to sleep. Go home.”
“Allison’s asleep already? She can’t be.”
“That’s her story and we’re sticking to it. Go home and call her tomorrow.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Look, man, she’s dead tired. Why don’t you two revisit the situation in the morning?”
Michaud nodded reluctantly, then shoved his hands in his pockets and left. Harry watched him for a few moments, wondering what Allison had gotten herself into. Michaud seemed an okay kind of guy, but who knew what he’d done? It had to be bad for Allison to react like this.
Back in the lounge, Allison was curled up on the sofa. He sat down next to her. “Tell me he didn’t do anything I should have flayed him alive for.”
She sniffled. “He didn’t.”
“How are you doing?”
She shrugged, gestured to the television. “I’m going to watch this
movie. Have you ever seen it?”
“I don’t think so. Did it just start?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to watch it with you?” Siobhan was going to be pissed if he stayed down here with Allison, but who cared? Birds came and went, but Allison was his partner.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“Okay. I think I’ll make popcorn. Want some?”
“Michaud didn’t feed you?”
“I was too nervous to eat.”
“Okay, let’s have popcorn.” He paused the movie and they went into the kitchen to make their snack. She poured two diet colas while he watched the microwave to make sure the popcorn didn’t burn. They took their refreshments back to the front room, and put the popcorn on the sofa between them.
A voice called down from upstairs. Siobhan.
He called back. “Go to sleep. I’ll be up in a bit.”
Allison glanced toward the stairs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
He shook his head. “Not possible. She can get pissed off, but I’m not in trouble. She can leave if she’s not happy.”
“I’m okay. You don’t have to stay with me.”
“I’m up now. Besides, now you’ve got me wanting to see this film.”
“Thanks for getting rid of Eddie.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“Not really. I’m just going to watch the telly till I fall asleep.”
“That’s not a great way to sleep, sweetcakes.”
“I’ll go to bed soon. You should go back upstairs.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting you have all the popcorn.”
She pulled her legs under her and leaned against the sofa back.
Harry said, “You’re tired. Go to sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy, but I might close my eyes for a few moments.”
“Sure, close your eyes. Then you won’t catch me eating all the popcorn.”
“You told the guv about me being your renter, didn’t you?”
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“Not yet. I’ll tell him Monday.”
“Don’t forget. I don’t want him finding out from someone else.”
“Not to worry. I’ll take care of it.”
He saw her relax, close her eyes, and in a few moments, knew she was asleep. Her head slid down, stopping at his shoulder. Allison like this was so different from the combative, feisty girl he worked with, and although he liked the way she was every day, this was nice.
After a while, he gently moved her off him and laid her across the sofa, propping her head up on one of the sofa pillows. He covered her with a quilt his mother had sent and turning off the lights, went upstairs and got into bed with Siobhan.
EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 4
Chapter 22
THIS WASN’T one of Tim Brighton’s usual watering holes, but then, that had been his choice. He didn’t want anyone he knew seeing him meet with this piece of scum. Cassandra was in Paris for her show and wouldn’t be back for at least another week. He’d left his mother with the children who were still delighted with their Easter treats and at having no school tomorrow. He really didn’t need any more to drink; he’d already had a skinful after the Easter luncheon his mother had dutifully produced so the children wouldn’t miss their mother.
Their mother. That was rich. Cassandra was a mother only by biology, and a wife in no real sense of the word. He’d known her career meant more to her than he did by the end of the first year of their marriage, and he’d soon found out that the children didn’t rate much higher. She’d taken two days off after each of their four children was born, and other than dressing them up to show them off on social occasions or magazine spreads, she had almost nothing to do with them. And not a lot more to do with him.
His wife saw him as a loser with a capital L, and he knew she had lovers. Though she didn’t particularly like sex, she needed the adulation. Fine with him. He didn’t care who she fucked as long as she was discreet and it wasn’t him.
He’d slept off his afternoon booze, and now was three drinks into his nighttime haze. He badly needed a cigarette, but the signs made it clear that this pub enforced the smoking ban. So instead, he ordered another whiskey and a bag of boiled peanuts to keep his hands busy.He’d never been so strapped for cash in his life. He didn’t need to worry about the everyday bills—Cassandra took care of those, or rather, Max Hooper, her super-efficient male personal assistant did. Max was probably one of the men Cassandra had sex with. She doled out access to her body like a hostess welcoming a not-quite-worthy guest to a fine meal. She always made sure she got something in return: undying loyalty, career advancement, social recognition, or, in his case, beautiful children to show what a perfect woman she was.
Tim had always been too proud to ask Cassandra for money for his own personal needs, let alone to salvage his sinking business. It’d be a miracle if he was able to keep the doors to his shipping business open through the summer. He couldn’t imagine how he was going to tell Cassandra. When she realized he was completely dependent upon her, not only would she let him know she considered him a ridiculous excuse for a man, but he’d become even more completely her personal lackey, relegated to taking care of the domestic details of their life.
Just as he finished the last of his drink, the door to the pub opened, and the devil walked in on a blast of cold air, smiling broadly. The elegantly dressed man motioned to a table in the back before heading that way. Tim waited for the barmaid to pour him another drink, as well as one for the other man. Leaving his peanuts on the bar, he took the drinks to the table where the man was draping his expensive overcoat over an empty chair before sitting down.
Tim sat down and slid one of the drinks across the table to the other man.
The man looked at him disapprovingly. “You look as if you’ve already had quite a few.”
Why deny it? “Celebrating Easter.”
“Very religious of you. Albert tells me you want out.”
“I do. If I’d known what this was about, I’d never have agreed to have anything to do with it.”
“I can’t let you go yet.”
“Of course, you can. I’m out. That’s all there is to it.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Aren’t you listening? I’m done.”
“Then I’ll have no choice but to send the police a small package—some photos, a few films showing the dates they were taken, proof of Lily’s age. The police tend to frown on men having sex with fourteen-year-old girls.”
“She was a prozzy, and you bloody well know I had no idea she was underage.”
“That’s no defense, as you bloody well no. Moreover, she’ll tell the police that you knew, and even worse, that you forced her.”
“She’d be a liar, then.”
“Truth is so often relative.”
“I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do.” Tim cursed the shaking he heard in his voice, knowing the other man would hear it, too.
“I still need you. I’ve at least one more shipment, maybe two, and I’m going to need your ships to get the merchandise out of Scotland.”
“My company can’t ship shite. It’s flat broke, and my vessels have all been seized by my creditors.”
“That’s a problem.” The man pursed his lips, nodding. “I’ll need to make other arrangements. Unfortunately, to do that, I’ll need some cash.”
“Don’t look at me. I’ve got nothing left.”
“Your wife has money.”
“I can hardly ask her to give me money to pay your extortion. She’d divorce me, and I can guarantee if she does that, she’s going to make sure I don’t walk away with anything but a hangover.”
The man tapped his fingers on the table. “You must have something of value.”
“I’ve got nothing.”
The man smiled. “Not quite. As I rememb
er, you have something very valuable. Something I can sell.”
“Not the house. Cassandra would never agree.”
“No, not your house.”
“What, then?”
“You have children, four, isn’t it?”
“No way.”
“Just hear me out. I have clients that will buy certain films, even snaps of them, in, shall we say, suggestive situations.”
Tim swallowed, a deep dread pressing against his chest. “Never.”
“I’d give you a cut of the proceeds. It amounts to a tidy sum.”
“You expect me to do that to my own children?”
“We’d blur out their faces.”
“I could never . . .”
“All you’d need to do is take some good snaps, or even better, a film or two. If what you give me is good enough, you might be able to make the money you need to revive your company, in addition to taking care of your weekly payments to me.”
Tim wanted to punch the sick shite. As it was, he had to stay drunk to numb himself from the enormous guilt about his role in whatever horrible thing had happened to Susan Clark. She’d been a sixteen-year-old girl, for Christ’s sake. Her parents had trusted him with her, and he’d delivered her to hell.
The man motioned the barmaid to bring another round. Wishing he had the strength to refuse to take anything the other man offered, Tim nonetheless downed the drink as soon as it came. He could tell from the way the man talked, that he never intended to let Tim off the sharp hook he’d been hanging on for the past year. Eventually, it would be too late for the police to prosecute him for his visits with Lily, but that wouldn’t solve his problem. There’d be no statute of limitations on his wife’s fury. He’d be out on his ear without a penny and she’d never let him see his children again.
The devil man smiled, the dim light of the pub making his teeth a yellowed ivory against his tanned face. “I’ll give you a week.”
“I’ll need more time. I can’t do anything while the police are crawling up my arse.”
“You have a week.”
* * * * *
Reid decided that going out more might not be so bad when he saw Anne coming down the stairs in a short shimmery-gold dress. She wore matching strappy shoes with heels that had to be murder to walk in, but that made her legs look beyond amazing. Her hair fell down in an elegant type of pony tail—what he thought of as her waterfall hairdo. Best of all, she’d put on the necklace and earrings he’d given her for Christmas.