by Chris Parker
The specialist team – the raid team as it was known – would be waiting for some agreed signal that Ethan was in the house. They were trained to hit hard and fast, and they would need to do that against Ethan Hall.
Keep your eyes low, head down, Peter thought. Shout. Scream. Make lots of noise. Do everything you can to scramble the bastard’s brain, to stop him from looking at you or talking to you.
Noise and movement.
The keys to success where Ethan Hall was concerned.
Only, no matter how much he wanted for Ethan to be in Smith’s house, for this to be it, he couldn’t really bring himself to believe. If he had, he would have been there himself. He wouldn’t have left the arrest of Ethan to someone else. McNeill had been absolutely right to question his reasons for staying away. He had been absolutely right, too, not to push the point any further.
Peter checked his watch. Something should have happened by now. He paced his office. He had to direct his mind somewhere and if it didn’t go towards Ethan Hall it turned inevitably towards Nic. He found it much easier to visualise how that was playing out. Their relationship was so fragile they had to create some quality time together; time to begin the rebuilding process, time in which to reassure Nic that the professional Peter Jones would eventually be put to rest forever and until then, no matter how it might seem on occasion, he was still Peter’s ultimate love.
Even if it was far more complicated than that. Even if, where Peter was concerned, the notion of ultimate was open to serious debate. Lovers expected to be at the top of their partner’s emotional hierarchy. It was a more than reasonable expectation. The often unspoken requirement and associated understanding went something like, I know you will love other people and maybe other things in powerful and different ways, just make sure no love is the same as, or exceeds, the love you feel for me. That was the silent deal and anyway you looked at it, it was a more than fair request from someone offering to share their one and only life with you.
So how could you possibly ask your partner to accept the fact you loved your work as much you loved them? That for the relationship to work they had to be willing to share you completely, sometimes, even, take second place. How do you square that particular circle?
Peter thought of Mike Coopland, a dear friend and the most successful and charismatic barrister he knew. The pair had worked together on several high profile and challenging cases. Mike could weave together and deliver a compelling story in ways that usually had a jury eating out of his hands. He was a master of his craft, a man who revelled in the cut and thrust of the courtroom. Yet Peter doubted if even Mike could successfully defend his position to Nic. Some stories required the listener to make a great leap of faith and, to make matters worse, to do so whilst carrying a significant burden. That was the type of story he was having to manage now.
‘Christ, I need Ethan Hall to be locked up! I need this to be over!’
Peter’s phone rang. It was Benson.
‘Yes?’ Peter heard his own voice cold and hard, the sudden rush of adrenaline blocked behind it. ‘What have you got for me?’
‘It’s bad news I’m afraid. He wasn’t there.’
As expected.
‘No sign at all?’
‘No. We checked everything thoroughly.’
‘So we don’t know if he was ever there?’
‘I’m sure he was.’
‘Why?’
‘The way my CHIS reacted. It was like he was scared and relieved and confused all at the same time. I’m sure Ethan had been with him and I’m convinced he didn’t expect him to leave. The best I can suggest is that something happened to spook Ethan and he took off in the nick of time.’
Peter considered briefly. CHIS was the correct term for a person more commonly referred to as an informant. It stood for Covert Human Intelligence Source. In this case Peter couldn’t help but wonder about the nature of the intelligence, and about the motivation of the man delivering it.
‘Tell me more about your source.’
‘There’s nothing much to add from what I said before. He’s served some time for dealing. He’ll do anything to make money as long as it isn’t too risky. He denies it but I’m sure he’s connected, albeit near the bottom of the chain, to Calvin Brent.’
‘Do you think he would have told Brent that Ethan Hall was staying with him?’
‘There’s no reason to think so. Hall wasn’t there for long. I find it hard to believe that in such a relatively short space of time he would have told Brent and then come running to me. I think my man is scared of Ethan and wanted rid of him. So when he heard about the reward he figured he could kill two birds with one stone.’
‘Maybe. It’s certainly a plausible explanation, one that would explain Ethan’s disappearance.’
‘How’s that?’
‘There’s no way your man could decide to sell Ethan to you without him sensing something bad was happening. Ethan Hall is not a man you keep secrets from.’
‘But, again, he wouldn’t have had much time to work it out.’
‘Ethan Hall only needs to look at you. He needs a fraction of a second to get inside your head. Trust me, you’ve never met anyone like him and I hope you never do.’
‘Well, if that’s true,’ Peter heard the doubt in the other man’s voice, ’how come he didn’t punish my man for betraying him? After all he has a track record for violence.’
‘That’s a very good question,’ Peter admitted. ‘The only possible answer I’ve got right now is that he couldn’t have known how long he’d got before we turned up, so he prioritised just getting out of there.’
‘Does that mean my guy could be at risk?’
‘For sure. Ethan Hall has a vindictive streak. He certainly won’t forgive or forget. The thing is, he now hasn’t got anywhere he can hide. That was his bolthole. He wouldn’t have wanted to give it up and he’s had to. So we have to ask ourselves, where does he go from there?’
‘Maybe he’s running blind, in a state of panic. He’s just discovered he couldn’t trust the friend he chose to go to, so even if he knows some other people he’s going to be distrustful at the very least. Maybe this has messed with his head and he isn’t currently the threat you believe him to be.’
Peter noted the deliberate use of the word believe. He chose to ignore it. Benson wasn’t part of his own team and in all probability this was the closest he would ever come to confronting Ethan.
‘Keep in contact with your man until this is over,’ he said. ‘Make it clear to him that he needs to get in touch with you if he hears anything even vaguely relevant. Tell him, too, he should consider himself at risk until Ethan is back in custody. That might help keep him safe and increase the chances of him sharing any new information. Got that?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Good. Well done today. Maybe next time.’
Peter ended the call. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made that Ethan would have spotted his so-called friend’s intention to turn him in. Smith was lucky the synesthete hadn’t stayed to take his revenge. Now, though, the two big questions still remained; questions that were, if anything, highlighted by the team’s recent near miss.
Question 1: Just what the hell was Ethan Hall planning to do next?
And
Question 2: Where was he right now?
33
Ethan Hall was in the lounge of Peter and Nic’s three bedroomed detached home in Burton Joyce, a large village seven miles east of Nottingham stretching out on either side of the A612. The house was on a quiet, tree-lined street. It was not overlooked.
Physically Nic had led Ethan into the lounge, but psychologically Ethan had been leading the way from the first breath they had taken together. Ethan was feeling a level of freedom he had never experienced before. He had escaped from Darren’s trap and had no doubt thrown Peter Jones’s confidence seriously off kilter. As a consequence he was not only free to do as he liked, he was confusing his hunter at the same ti
me. Soon he would be confusing and hurting his hunter. It wouldn’t be long before he was damaging him permanently. And he hadn’t even started with Marcus Kline yet.
Ethan looked at the room and breathed it in. He breathed in the atmosphere and the memories, the emotion and the expectation. In his experience, every home felt like a secure bubble, somehow connected to and yet safe from the world around it. In his experience that bubble was the thinnest of all protection, a falsehood, believed in by those who loved and needed so powerfully they couldn’t accept how flimsy their sense of security really was. Ethan delighted in being in the homes of others, in breathing himself into them. He was doing that now as Nic invited him to sit in the floral-patterned armchair that faced the old-fashioned brick fireplace.
‘I will stand if you don’t mind,’ Ethan said, gesturing towards the settee.
‘Of course.’ Nic sat. ‘I know you, don’t I?’
‘Do you?’
‘It feels like I do.’
‘Do I look like someone you know?’
‘Yes and no. It seems somehow as if I ought to know you, as if I really ought to, as if I’ve shared many things with you. It feels like that, but I can’t quite make sense of it.’
‘How does that make you feel?’ Ethan wanted to giggle, but controlled himself.
‘It’s hard to put into words.’
‘Then how does it look?’
‘That’s easier. It’s as if I’m looking into a fog.’
‘And where am I?’
‘You’re in the fog. Just. I can almost see you clearly but not quite.’
‘We need to do something about that, don’t you think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’m an expert at this sort of thing. I know exactly what you need to do. Just breathe in more deeply and deliberately and you will draw some of the fog in to you; that will make your vision clear, if only for a second. In that second you will recognise me.’
‘OK.’
Nic did as he was told. Ethan watched, exhaling quietly and fully each time Nic inhaled.
‘That’s right. Take several more breaths. It might even help if you close your eyes.’
‘Yes.’
Nic’s eyes closed. Ethan continued breathing into him, penetrating on each inhalation, riding the breath, going deeper each time. ‘You’re nearly there,’ he whispered.
‘Yes.’ Bright colours – red, gold and metallic blue – began to flicker around Nic’s body as his heartbeat quickened.
Ethan let the heat build for a few more seconds before saying, ‘Open your eyes. Now!’
Nic’s eyes sprang open. His pupils were dilated fully, drawing in as much light as they possibly could, seeing every detail available to him, seeing more than he ever had before, seeing precisely what Ethan wanted him to.
‘Andrew! Andrew is that really you?’
‘Do you have to ask?’ Ethan spread his arms, raising them to shoulder height, palms open, facing Nic.
‘But…But it can’t be!’
‘Seeing is believing.’ Ethan wiggled his fingers. He thought of worms wriggling and stretching out from palms nailed in place on a cross. He thought of them contracting and expanding as the body slumped. He thought of trillions of bugs in the gut changing in response to the physical stress, to the lack of oxygen, unaware that their host had just died. He wished he had been that centurion – if the story was true. After all, he could have created a religion if he’d wanted to. He just wasn’t that cruel.
‘Seeing is believing,’ he said again. ‘Who do you see, brother?’
‘Oh my God! It is you!’ Nic staggered. ‘How can it be?’
‘It’s a miracle, a miracle of your own making. You’ve felt me close so many times. You’ve felt my touch. You’ve heard me whisper. The truth is you’ve stopped telling Peter because he doesn’t believe and, just like all the others who lack your sensitivity, he mocks you. He believes it’s a sign of your desperation and weakness. We know better. This is your reward. I’m here now.’
‘Andrew…’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve missed you so much. I’ve become so afraid.’
‘Of what?’
‘Of the possibility that Peter and the rest of them were right, that I was just imagining you, that your death really meant I had lost my older brother forever. I’d become so scared I was wrong.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I feel like a weight has lifted. Only it was a weight that was inside me and now I’m so open and so ready to welcome you back in where you belong. And so sorry I doubted you.’
‘You don’t need to be sorry for anything. You wanted to believe. They wanted to take it from you. Only they couldn’t. They can’t. Not now and not ever again. You have earned this. I’m here because of you, because of your love and your need. So take your openness and just welcome me in. More fully than ever before. And realise and remember I never left. And realise and remember I never will. I am your brother. Forever. We share more than you ever can with anyone else. Our relationship is unique. The car crash didn’t kill my essence. The body you buried wasn’t me. This is the real me. I am here for you. I am here now because I know how much you need me.’
Nic made no attempt to stop or wipe away his tears. His mouth hung open, incapable of sound, his head shaking from side to side with the silent disbelief of a person who had just won the world’s greatest prize. Ethan lowered his arms slowly, drawing the raw emotion out of the other man; fuelling it with his every breath.
‘You have no words. I understand.’ Ethan smiled, letting his teeth show. ‘The truth is, there are no words for what you are feeling and learning right now. So let me talk for both of us. I can see your pain and your turmoil. I can lead you to the decision you know is there, waiting for you to grasp it, the decision that will heal and strengthen you. Shall I take you there now? Shall we move on together? As brothers do.’
Nic forced the single word, ‘Yes.’
‘Good. It is time. We both know that to be true. It is time for you to free yourself, to become the man you truly are; the man you would already be if you had been loved properly. Your future is here now. You can feel it, can’t you?’ Ethan paused, watching Nic go even more inward. Then he continued. ‘We are living in times of division and separation. The world is offering you its lesson. It is teaching you that it is right to break free, to seek your own destiny and be your own self. Anyone who would deny you that is your enemy. Anyone who says they love you and yet refuses to acknowledge this to be true is a selfish and hateful liar. It is time to break free from the herd, to rediscover your own beauty and worth.
‘Now, as you listen to my words, as you feel them unlocking the fear that has held you captive for so long, you are beginning to see the distance that has existed between Peter and yourself for many years. A distance you have tried to bridge. A distance he created and maintained because you were not his true love. Instead you were his prisoner, trapped in a relationship of his making, one that suited his selfish needs and confined you to a position of inferiority.
‘The reason why you feel so open right now is because you are seeing the distance between yourself and that hateful man growing ever greater. His hold over you is shrinking with every second. The belief that you needed him in your life is dissolving with it. Your unconscious now is erasing your ability to even remember his face. The colours and shapes are being smudged and changed, they are blurring as they diminish. When his face is gone from your memory, his voice will be next and, after that, so many other things about him will disappear comfortably and easily and only in the order that is best for you. This will continue for the rest of your life. Now, just take a moment, in silence, to let all of this settle and become true.’
As Nic sank ever deeper into the trance that was wiping his memories and changing his emotions, Ethan explored the atmosphere in the room and throughout the rest of the house. Just for fun he delved more deeply into the tension, the unfinished arguments and the silent pa
in that had been so obvious to him from the moment he had stepped inside. Then he went beyond, to what had once been the lightness and bright connectivity of hope and sharing and was now a dark blue background note. He willed it to shift further, to sink into the mud of life long since trampled.
Nic groaned softly. Ethan said, ‘You have just realised haven’t you? Using your real eyes you have seen safely that the relationship you once had with that hateful man was your version of a car crash, happening in slow motion, heading into inevitable destruction. Only now you are on a different journey. With me. To a very different place. A brighter, lighter place, filled with hope and new beginnings.’ Ethan glanced at the photo on the white stone mantelpiece of Nic and his brother, Andrew, arms around each other, suntanned and smiling, their white shining teeth emphasised by the colour of their skin and the darkness of the night sky behind them. He had learned of Andrew’s death from Calvin Brent, having requested information about all the individuals he planned to visit.
‘What do you feel you must do now?’ He asked.
‘I must leave. With you.’
‘Yes. Where must we go?’
‘To somewhere bright, somewhere new.’
‘How do you feel about doing this now?’
‘Light. Hopeful. In ways I haven’t been for years.’
‘Good. Now, try hard and certainly in vain to remember who it is you are leaving.’
Nic breathed deeply. He frowned, shook his head. ‘Someone, but I can’t picture who.’
‘Try harder.’
Nic tensed with the effort. ‘The more I try, the more impossible it becomes. It’s as if…’ He cocked his head to one side and a smile almost formed as the question took shape. ‘Was there actually ever anyone else?’