There is a moment of silence, as the reason for my sudden u-turn settles.
'That,' Jeremiah breathes out, 'is a fantastic idea.'
'Think about what you will learn if you change the focus of the exercise,' I say.
'I'm all for that,' says Grosvenor.
'Two provisions,' I say. 'Firstly, we pick the location to suit. And I think safety is a priority. I think we need to pick somewhere that is a controllable atmosphere and environment. Think about it. The people attending the event will be an unstable mix of criminal parties vying for a very volatile item, and there will be winners and losers. Last thing we want is an incident and an accident occurring with Apex itself.'
'The thought had crossed my mind,' says Amina.
'So we pick somewhere with a fully regulated environment. I don't care if Kirsten takes credit for this too. But we need somewhere that will halt the spread of the substance in the event of an accident.'
'OK, that sounds good, what immediately springs to mind?' asks Jeremiah. 'Anybody?'
'A factory of some kind?' suggests Grosvenor.
'Too many variables,’ says Amina. ‘Factories contain dangerous enough chemicals at times as it is, introducing even more toxic substances to the mix is not to be advised.'
'What about,' I say, 'some kind of livestock facility, like a breeding environment which controls what the animals eat, drink and breathe?'
'That would work,' says Amina, shrugging. 'It's far less dangerous than the hit and miss nature of a larger scale factory.'
'I read about this,' I say. 'Large scale breeders control every element of their product's environment, in spaces big enough to allow for livestock to move around. If we can find one that will suit, which could contain Apex in the event of an accident, and set it up for surveillance, then we are on to a winner. Kind of.'
'I think that's pretty stellar,' says Jeremiah.
'I can certainly make some calls,' says Grosvenor, with a satisfied smile.
'My second provision involves myself. I want to be there. I want to be your point man on the ground.'
Silence again, but not the good kind. I fill in the blanks as best I can.
'Like you said, Jeremiah. I have been custodian of Apex for the last three days, and everything has worked out so far. Let me guard it right up until it is passed on to whichever son of a bitch buys it. I don't trust Kirsten. There is no way I'm going to give it to her, and hope that she is somehow going to do the right thing and take it to auction. She has burned her bridges in that regard.'
'What do we all think to that?' asks Jeremiah, casting his eyes around the room. 'Personally, I don't have a problem with that.'
'No, that sounds OK. I like the idea of having a man on the ground,' says Grosvenor.
'I'm going with him,' says Amina.
We turn to her now, as the situation seems ever changing. I’m not sure about this, and try to tell her with my stare. I don’t want her anywhere near the place.
'Amina could be right there,' says Jeremiah. 'She has been as much a part of protecting Apex, plus she knows precisely what she is doing with the godawful stuff.'
'Exactly,' confirms Amina. So it seems the life expectancy of our little team is extended for a little bit longer. That’s not what I want at all, but I’ll have to work with it. I could protest but already know that, where she is concerned, my plea will get no traction whatsoever.
'So we have a plan,' Jeremiah says. 'William, can you fill Kirsten in and get her to make the arrangements with whoever we assume is to execute the auction. I will find a suitable location and prep it for our purposes. You two, hang tight. I'll let you know when there is more to tell. But I think there is one more order of business, before we all set about making the relevant arrangements.'
The elephant in the room, I feel. It's about to come crashing into our midst.
'We are placing a great deal of trust in you, Ben,' Jeremiah sighs, looking at the table top. 'I think, if you wouldn't mind, a little information about yourself wouldn't go amiss here.'
I was waiting for this. It's only fair I suppose. Jeremiah knows nothing about me, save for the fact that I am highly trained, motivated and loyal. I have not let him down yet, but he has trusted me based on results alone. When I have promised to deliver, I have done, and never given him cause to waiver. But now, face to face finally, it seems understandable to ask. But what do I say? I'm supposed to be in prison on a murder sentence. If I reveal too much, surely he will send me straight back there. That's exactly what I would do in his position.
And Grosvenor? There is something very worldly and understanding about him, like he knows that the path to the greater good is not as simple as a black and white fork in the road. Nothing is clean and easy, but still, perhaps he too might not be too keen on working with me, if he knew my past. Particularly the part about my dishonorable discharge for murdering a colleague, no matter how much I was trying to do the right thing.
'Well, my anonymity is very important to me. If I feel that my privacy is to be abused by either of you, I will walk out of that door now, and take Apex with me, and you can work out a solution to this all by yourself.'
No one balks at that, so I take a deep breath.
'I'm an ex-army Captain. I left the service three years ago. I have been struggling to find my place ever since, but I'm not finished serving my country.'
There is so much more to say, and I think they know it. But they seem satisfied with that, or at least they appear to be for the time being. I'm not willing to divulge the rest, and all the grotesque ins and outs. Please, let me leave it there...
'Cool,' says Jeremiah, flashing a smile that eases my thoughts. 'Must have been a hell of unit you were in charge of.'
'It never quite leaves you,' Grosvenor says. 'Thank you for your continued service, Ben. The country needs more like you.'
Grosvenor actually looks proud. Like he has finally seen something that he has been looking for for so long. Someone like him. Someone willing to go that extra mile to do what is right. Suddenly, Grosvenor is up.
'I must get back to Westminster,' he says, shrugging on his suit jacket. 'The PM will want appraising of the situation. You are all safe here. John won't ask any questions, and you are free to use this place as long as you need, in privacy. When you have a site for the auction, please let me know, so I can pass it onto our wonderful Secretary of Defense.'
'I'm on it,' says Jeremiah, wheeling himself back from the table, shaking Grosvenor's hand. 'Thanks for the call, and your assistance, William.'
'It's good to know there are good men working hard out there, Jeremiah.' They shake.
'Ben, Amina,' he says, addressing us, while buttoning his jacket. 'Thank you for everything you are doing. Without your efforts, God knows how this could have wound up. Keep sharp tomorrow night. Keep your heads, and we all get out of this one. And as much as it hurts to admit it, this seems to be the right thing.'
He shakes Amina's hand, then mine. 'Try to keep your nose clean, Ben,' he says, laced with a meaning I am unable to fully decipher.
And with one last flash of a grin, he is off. Back to the belly of government, the PM's right hand man.
'If there's anything you need, just shout,' I say to Jeremiah. 'But for now we'll give you some space.'
'That'd be great,' he replies. 'I'll let you know how I get on.'
I feel itchy, in my feet and hands. Tomorrow night is a long time to wait, but I know patience is necessary. I've got to let the brains behind the operation get moving before I can, and in that sense, this predicament is something I am very familiar with. I might as well embrace this. The calm before the storm that has been forecast - and what a tense storm it will be.
21
The night came in, but only after a long, lazy dusk that seemed to stretch ever-onwards like a dog by a fireplace, the sun laying molten rays of orange on this little pocket of countryside. I watched most of it from the back porch of the property, which has a couple of bench seats fac
ing the sun. A hot spot to watch the last pages of day turn through to epilogue. Myself and Amina had eaten briefly in the dining room, steak and kidney pies conceited expertly by Denise, doused in gravy and bolstered by french fries. It was belting.
During the meal, tiredness seemed to come and invisibly claim her. Suddenly, she was exhausted, the waves of adrenaline parting at last to reveal a chasm of depleted energy. She faded fast, and excused herself. John offered me a whiskey with some cheese and biscuits for afters. I eagerly accepted, and for the last hour, it has felt like I am at an Etonian country club. Afterwards, John replenished my glass, and told me about the spot on the porch.
Now, on the grass of the gardens, I can see that the rabbits have come out to play. They frolic confidently around the ornate stone pots and manicured hedges, no cares to speak of. I envy them shamelessly.
I hear the door behind me on the porch click then creak, and the door swings open.
'Thanks, John,' I hear Jeremiah say, and I turn to see him wheel out onto the porch. John doesn't follow. The guy sure gets discretion. 'May I join you?'
'Of course,' I say. Within a moment Jeremiah is next to me, and I see that he is actually cradling a small tumbler and the now-familiar bottle of 12 year old Highland Park single malt in his lap.
'John thought your glass could use refreshing,' says Jeremiah, popping off the cork.
'One things for definite - John is a damn good bloke,' I say, as my glass is ambered.
Jeremiah pours a measure for himself, and sets the bottle down.
'Cheers,' he says, extending his glass to me. We clink and slug, the smokey warmth prickling all corners of my tongue. 'So I have our location. A turkey farm about 15 miles north of here. They are a specialist breeding group, who control every aspect of environment that the birds come into contact with. They can give us one of their sheds, since a batch of birds reached maturity just last week. I'm led to believe that it is a very secluded spot. It should suit us down to the ground.'
'Sounds perfect. I would imagine they have been well compensated?' I say.
'Grosvenor is indeed greasing the wheels in his… inimitable style. Plus he has let Kirsten know.'
'It's all coming together then.'
'Hmm. When you sneaked up on me in that disabled toilet last year, who knew that it would lead to the arrests it has, not to mention a situation like this.'
'At the time, I badly needed an ally. I needed a man with both information and drive.'
'You made a real mess you know. But you were more effective than any police force has ever been against Manchester's organized crime network. The fact that you are very hard to get hold of helped. I couldn't find you if I tried.'
'But you did, didn't you?' I say, raising my eyebrows.
'I wouldn't be much of an investigator if I didn't,' he says, returning my smile. 'But it was a needle in a haystack. You gave me very little to go on.'
'That was the idea,' I say. Progress with caution, Ben.
'I don't really care though. You are a man of your word which counts for a lot more than identity and record in my book. So many people I come into contact with in my professional capacity have their own agendas, reasons and goals. There are very few straight shooters left. But you are one of them.'
'I get the feeling you are too.'
'I try to be - within the rules, of course.'
There is an ease to our conversation. Despite the nature of our relationship, it has always been based on trust - and that clearly has counted a lot for both parties.
'I can promise you, as a man working in law enforcement, having an outside party with your… autonomy and skill set can be extremely helpful.'
'That's all I'd like to be,' I say.
'Which means that, whatever it is that bought you to this point, I am not interested. I think it's important that, to have each other's backs on this, we operate with a clean slate. You've never given me reason to doubt you, and I won't start now.'
'I'd like that, and will do the same.'
'OK, then,' he says, settling a bit. He seems relieved to have got that off his chest, but the relief is not his alone. I feel soothed, my anxieties about discovery and capture reduced a little.
'What does Grosvenor know?' I ask.
'I contacted Grosvenor when we were called off the case in the first place. I wanted to know why this happened, and I thought, as a non-portfolio entity, he would be most impartial. I think he had the same fears, and we have been in contact ever since. Of course, he is the friendly party I alluded to yesterday.'
'Gotcha.'
And we settle in and enjoy a brief moment. Like two pen pals who have never met, but realize that, when they finally get together, they get on in real life as well as on the page. The sun is now just a sliver of peel on the horizon, and within seconds, the last drop of juicy glare is all squeezed out. The sky glows softly in memory.
'Confession time. When you told me your name was Ben before, I did a little digging. I thought you might have been this guy, Ben Bracken, escaped from prison. He's got a military background, just like you. Left service about that time too. But when I looked into it, it turns out that Ben Bracken is still behind bars. The Chief Warden of HMP Manchester told me himself. So I'm back to the drawing board in my little hunt to find out more about you.'
I coil, and tense ramrod straight. It takes a huge effort not to jolt out of my chair, and silence Jeremiah on the spot. I try not to look at him, but I can't help it - and when I look I see that he is sighing and raising the glass to his lips.
'It's a shame, because, from what I've read, we could really do with a guy of that calibre on the team,' he says, before sipping away the last of his whiskey.
Tawtridge, the Chief Warden, obviously kept his word, and my insurance policy is still in place. But there is no fooling Jeremiah, he looks calm and cocksure, but completely without malevolence.
'You couldn't open the door could you? I think big days deserve early nights before them,' he says.
'Sure,' I say, hopping up, and opening the door.
'Goodnight, Ben. I'll see you in the morning.'
'Goodnight,' I reply, weakly. I am stunned, I don't know what to say. My identity, so sacred to me, and my anonymity, so vital to the success of any goal that I may have, are both laid bare. As Jeremiah disappears inside, I take the bottle, which I assume he left with me on purpose, and pour.
He knows exactly who I am.
Jesus. The man is an expert. He’s got resources to spare, I mustn’t forget. If he suspected I was Ben Bracken, all it would have taken is a run through his databases to find a mugshot.
What an idiot, Ben. You pretty much told him.
Hi mannerisms and words though... It didn't feel at all like a warning, more like a friendly nudge. As if to say,you are alright with me, pal. I want to believe that. I really do. Because I don't want to have to put a bullet in poor Jeremiah's brain.
TUESDAY
22
My eyes snap open and I am faced with black. My body is warm and comfortable, cocooned in linen. I can't see anything, but just as I note as such, I begin to make out outlines as my eyes adjust. Then I hear a creak behind me, and I feel the weight of the grand old bed shift. Someone has climbed in with me.
I freeze. I can only picture it being one person, but I am nevertheless very surprised. I stay still, and silent. My visitor doesn't move, just lays softly next to me. I detect a light note of pineapple hair products, and assume it can only be Amina.
Why is she here? Is this some kind of seduction? Or a plea for help?
Does she need security in my presence, as I have dared to suspect?
It forces me to look at Amina in a romantic light, something I have not yet consciously done. I feel an undeniable attraction to her, but I am very worried that those such desires are borne out of an overly romanticized urge to protect her. She is beautiful, funny, fiery… and tragic. Maybe that is why I like her.
She is irreparably damaged in so many way
s, and those feelings are certainly ones that, in some guise or other, I am very familiar with. But, like myself, she fought back against the hand that was dealt her, and concocted a future of her own design. There are, indeed, a series of similarities between us.
But is it simply because I am drawn to her, again, by that infernal sense of duty? Do I find myself propelled in her direction by nothing more than a warped desire to protect and serve, while her prettiness and bubbling personality simply galvanized my feelings along? Perhaps that's how these things always happen, with one thing leading to another. Grand trees growing from tiny seeds. Love blooming in the most unlikely of places.
Apex (Ben Bracken 2) Page 21