Chapter Sixty-Two
Michael
I jerk awake and see Neva’s shape slumped in the chair. I can hear her gentle breathing as she naps. I consider turning over and going back to sleep but the dream is still floating in the back of my mind. I tremble as I pull myself up into a sitting position. The vivid dream has disturbed me. It felt real, though I know it is just angst that has created this scenario in my subconscious. Probably the distressing news that more kids have been taken is preying on my mind. I’m sure this means that more young people are going to be moulded into something like Neva. I feel like I should be doing something about that, but have no idea what or how. What was it like for Neva, living in that house? No child should live with such fear.
Neva is an enigma. She hadn’t been blessed with a normal childhood, reared as she was to be a killer. Yet she is capable of so much. I feel a little pathetic when compared to her. She is strong and I feel weak and vulnerable, struggling as I am to make sense of my changing world.
Neva stretches in the chair and yawns. I glance at the clock beside the bed. It’s early but it would be pointless now to go back to sleep.
I pick up my phone and unplug it from the charger on my bedside table.
‘What time is it?’ Neva asks.
‘Just after five,’ I say.
I start composing a text to send to Ray, excusing my absence from work. Claiming man-flu. I’ve never had any time off sick so Ray may be suspicious. Even so, I press send. I’m half expecting a reply telling me to ‘man up’, but no immediate response comes.
‘Should we get out of here?’ I say.
‘Bagsy the bathroom first,’ Neva answers.
I let her take care of her ablutions as I get up and go into the kitchen. Out of caution, I sniff the milk in the fridge. Neva wasn’t home all day yesterday and I’m nervous that somehow Mrs Kendal’s home has been compromised too.
I decide that it might be a good idea to reactivate my security cameras again while we’re gone. I go into my flat and I plug in the wires and reactivate the system on my laptop. Then I bring it and all of my overnight things back to my neighbour’s home.
Neva comes into the kitchen as I pour boiling water onto the teabags.
‘I’ll take it black,’ she says.
‘Probably wise,’ I say.
I finish our drinks, then I take mine into the bedroom. Leaving it on the chest of drawers to cool, I go into the bathroom and shower. Neglecting my usual shaving routine, I go back into the bedroom, a towel around my hips, then I dry and dress, before I repack my overnight bag.
Before closing the zip on the holdall, I hesitate. Am I really going to see my parents to ask about Andrew?
At the last minute, I stuff my gun in the bag, then I zip it closed. I take the holdall with me out of the room, dumping it down on the coffee table.
‘You’ll need to bring your stuff,’ I tell Neva.
She’s sitting in the chair by the door again, but this time the mug of tea is clutched in her hand, not a gun.
‘Already packed while you were in the shower,’ she says.
I then notice the bag by her feet.
‘How do you feel?’ she asks.
‘Odd. I haven’t seen Mum and Dad for a while,’ I say.
‘Not close then?’
‘I’m closer to Mia,’ I say. ‘But there’s been no falling-out. They’re just … more into each other than us. If you understand?’
Neva nods.
My parents live in Cambridge. They moved out of London when my father retired last year.
‘I’ll hire a car,’ I say. ‘Drive us.’
‘I can steal one,’ Neva suggests.
I’m shocked that I actually consider her offer for a second. But the car hire, although it requires ID, seems like the best bet. The last thing we need is to be spotted and chased down by police looking for a stolen vehicle.
‘We’ll hire,’ I say.
‘Okay. But I’ll use one of my fake IDs,’ she says.
‘What about paying? They won’t take cash; they’ll want a card.’
‘I have those too,’ she says.
Though I shouldn’t be surprised, I am. I don’t ask her how she has managed to obtain all of these things. Perhaps the less I know the better. Even so, Neva knows what she’s doing. She’s hidden herself well for the last few months.
My regular phone pings as I pull on my jacket. I look at it and see a text from Ray.
You looked under the weather yesterday. Get some rest! Take a couple of days if you need it.
I thank him and switch off the phone.
‘Leave that here. It’s traceable,’ Neva says. Then she goes into the kitchen and brings out both of the burner phones and their chargers. I take one, put it in my pocket, and I stow the charger in my bag. Neva does the same.
‘Just in case you’re being watched, I go first,’ Neva says.
She pulls on a knitted hat, pushing her shiny fair hair up into it. Then she slings her rucksack over her back and goes out.
As discussed, I wait ten minutes and then follow. But first I drop my work phone and charger back into my flat. I make sure the place is locked up, as well as Mrs Kendal’s flat. By the time I get downstairs, Neva is already walking towards our meeting point.
I exit the front of the building and walk towards the tube station, which is about ten minutes away, taking the precaution of observing those around me. Then I join the queue at the taxi rank. Neva comes up and stands behind me. When I reach the front of the queue, we both get into the same cab.
As the taxi pulls away, Neva looks through the rear window, studying cars and people that might be paying attention to us.
‘I think we’re okay,’ she says.
I direct the taxi four streets away and get the driver to drop us off at a local hotel. Then we walk around the corner to the car hire company.
A short time later, we are driving away in an inconspicuous dark-blue Corsa.
The sat nav says Cambridge is only sixty-two miles away and it should take one hour and thirty-two minutes. On normal roads, this would only be a little over an hour’s journey, but getting out of central London and onto the M11 is always slow. In the end, it takes us almost half an hour longer than the sat nav predicted.
‘I know it’s risky, but I’m coming in with you,’ Neva says. ‘I have to see if either of your parents are lying.’
‘Oh, believe me, my bullshit detector will be hiked up to full scan too,’ I say.
I’m shocked I’m saying this. At the moment, there is no reason to suspect my parents of anything. But the hairs are prickling on the back of my neck as I turn the car into their street and directly onto the driveway next to my father’s car.
The house is fairly ordinary, though much bigger than they could afford in London. Last year, they sold their small townhouse there and, with the freed-up capital, were able to find a four-bedroom detached home in Cambridge, with a reasonably sized garden, for a fraction of the cost of the townhouse. Dad had never been one for gardening, but he fancied trying his hand now he was retired. I’d been to the house just once before – the day they moved in – and now that memory imposed itself again in my mind. Mia and Ben had been there to help too. At the end of the day, we’d ordered pizza and sat around Mum’s kitchen table drinking beer. It had been pleasant, so why didn’t I see them more?
‘Ready?’ says Neva at my side.
I nod but I feel nervous. It’s almost as if I’m at a stranger’s house.
I get out of the car and so does Neva. Then I approach the door, knock, and wait.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Michael
Mum answers and takes a step back.
‘Michael? What are you doing here?’
Mum looks homey. She’s wearing an apron and there’s a smear of flour on her cheek as though she’s in the middle of baking. She always looks like this. And for a moment it feels staged just for me, but I know she wasn’t expecting me and that this
is a ridiculous notion.
‘Hey, Mum,’ I say. I open my arms. She blinks and then moves towards me for a hug.
‘So, who’s this?’ she asks, looking at Neva, when she pulls away.
‘I’m Anna,’ Neva says.
Neva holds out her hand and she and Mum shake.
‘Where’re my manners! Come in! Your dad is in the garden.’
Mum chatters as she leads me into the house. The living room is in much better order than the last time I was here. That day, unopened boxes were stacked against one wall. Since then, Mum has made this place a home.
‘I’ve been baking so your timing is perfect!’ Mum says. ‘Sit down. I’ll put the kettle on and fetch your father.’
I sit on the familiar plush sofa. She’s had this one for years, though you’d never know as it’s still perfect. Neva doesn’t sit; she stands by the window watching the road outside.
‘Well, this is a nice surprise!’ Dad says, coming in from the kitchen. ‘Anna, is it?’
Anna studies him and then takes the hand he holds out to her.
‘Must be serious,’ Dad says. ‘I don’t remember Michael ever bringing a girl home before.’
Neva smiles at him. Dad sits down in his favourite chair and Neva sinks down on the sofa beside me. There’s an ornate mahogany coffee table between us and Dad. I don’t think I’ve seen this table before and suspect it’s new.
‘How long have you two…?’ says Dad.
‘Dad, that’s not why I’m here.’
‘Hold that thought. I’ll just see if your mother needs help.’
Dad gets up; he moves slower than the last time I saw him. He looks older too. He goes back into the kitchen. A short time later he returns with a tray. On it is Mum’s best china teapot with matching teacups and saucers. He places it on the coffee table. There’s also a matching jug with milk in it and a small dish containing sugar cubes. Mum’s brought out the big guns today. I can only imagine what she is thinking about me turning up here with a woman.
‘Can I take your jacket and hat?’ Dad says now to Neva.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she says but she pulls the hat off out of politeness.
Dad stares at her beautiful strawberry-blonde hair as it falls down over her shoulders. He looks at me and winks. Then he bends over the tray and starts to pour the tea. He holds a cup out to Neva; she takes it but doesn’t drink.
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ he says.
After taking a cup from him, I place it down on a coaster on the table. I want to cut to the chase now, and ask my questions about Andrew. But I have to wait a little longer until Mum comes in.
She enters soon with a plate of perfect cupcakes which she puts down on the table before us, along with a stack of small plates.
‘Mum’s a great cook,’ I say to Neva but neither of us reaches for one of the cakes. ‘Mum, sit down, will you? I’d like to talk to you guys.’
Mum sits on the small two-seater sofa she often occupies. She’s smiling at me.
‘Well, I wondered when this day would come,’ she says.
‘I saw Andrew a couple of days ago,’ I say, moving the subject away from their assumption that I’m here to introduce Neva as my girlfriend.
‘Really? How was he?’ Dad asks. ‘Haven’t seen him for some time.’
‘You guys are close though? I mean, you chose him as my godfather,’ I say.
‘More tea?’ Mum asks.
I shake my head.
‘How did you meet Andrew, Dad?’ I ask. Then I pick up my teacup. Both my parents stare at the cup but say nothing. I put it down again and wait for them to answer.
‘We went into the force together. I told you that,’ Dad says. ‘Andrew lasted a couple of years, then his dad died and left him the business. He quit the force and became a big fancy CEO instead.’
I remember hearing this before, almost word for word. I glance at Neva. She’s quiet but observant under an appearance of shyness.
‘What is Andrew’s business?’ Neva asks.
‘Didn’t Michael tell you?’ Mum says.
‘No. I’ve only just been made aware of him…’
‘It’s some import/export thing, I believe,’ Dad says. ‘I don’t pry. But he must be up for retirement himself one day soon.’
‘But he left the city a while ago, didn’t he?’ I say. ‘Where’s his house again?’
Mum picks up a cupcake and places it on a plate. ‘These used to be your favourite,’ she says holding it out to me.
‘I’m okay right now, Mum,’ I say.
She looks disappointed as she places the plate down on the table. Neva takes it and smiles at Mum.
She lifts the cake and peels away the case, then she nibbles the sponge at the bottom.
‘It’s delicious,’ she says.
‘You’ve known Andrew a long time then,’ I say. ‘Dad, you’re a cop; have you ever suspected Andrew of … not being what he says he is?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Dad says. ‘Andrew is Andrew. He’s always the same. Now, let’s talk about you two. When’s the big day?’
Neva laughs at this. She uses the laughter as an excuse to put down the cake.
‘We’re just…’ I stop. How to explain Neva to my parents. Is it best to let them think this rather than to have them wondering too deeply who and what she is? ‘Okay. You’ve figured it out. Anna and I are planning to get engaged!’
Neva laughs a little harder. I doubt she’s ever been in such an embarrassing position before.
‘Anyway, I’m trying to tell her about my family. You guys, Mia, Uncle Andrew. Just so she knows what she’s letting herself in for,’ I continue.
‘He’s not been very fluent on this subject,’ Neva says, falling into the lie.
‘Oh, Michael! I’m so happy for you!’ Mum says.
My parents begin to relax then and I realise the odd, alert, way they had been looking at us both was because they weren’t sure about the situation. I know it’s unusual for me to turn up unannounced so I cut them both some slack. Even so, I need to find out more about Andrew.
I sip my tea finally but I take it black and Neva tries the icing on the cupcake. She praises Mum for her cooking but she avoids the tea. Then she asks if she can go to the bathroom. Mum gives her directions and Neva leaves the room.
‘She seems nice,’ Mum says. ‘A little shy perhaps, but she’ll get to know us.’
I nod.
Mum pours more tea and stirs in milk, then she passes my cup back to me.
‘How did you meet?’ she asks.
I sip the tea. It tastes too milky after the black cup I’ve just consumed.
‘Travelling on the tube,’ I say. ‘Then we just kept bumping into each other.’
‘Is he under yet?’ Dad says.
‘What?’ I slur.
‘Nearly,’ says Mum. ‘I’ll take care of this.’
‘Mum?’
‘Now, Michael, why didn’t you kill her?’
I’m torn between reality and my dream state. Part of me is denying that this is happening. That my mother just drugged me. I haven’t had much of the milky tea, but it was enough to make me lose control. The cup slips from my fingers and falls down onto the floor with a clatter.
‘You have to execute her, Michael. She’s a risk to us all!’
‘Kill her?’ I say.
‘Yes,’ says Mum. ‘Here. Go and find her and finish this.’
Mum presses a gun into my fingers. I look down at it and realise it’s my Glock, now with a silencer. I don’t know where it came from. I stand, gripping the weapon with grim determination. I feel strong and cold and full of purpose. I check the barrel, take off the safety, and then I go in search of Neva.
Mum had sent her upstairs to the main bathroom. It had occurred to me that this was peculiar, when there was a toilet in the hallway, but for some reason I didn’t correct her. Now I understand why: they recognised her immediately which means they are high up in the Network. I
remember. Yes. They have a seat each at the table. They are both on Mr Beech’s committee.
I know now too that Neva is a traitor to the Network. She has to die.
I remember a lot of things: how they took me as a child. I was only gone a few weeks, and then I was placed back with my ‘parents’. They knew all about it. They were part of my training. But this allowed me the appearance of a normal life. I’d worked hard at school, while training at ‘the house’ at weekends. Unlike Neva, I knew exactly where that place was. But only when I was truly awake. Like now.
I walk through the hall, gun held in both hands and pointed down. Neva won’t suspect, or see me coming, until it’s too late. The other part of me, the Michael that does not know the truth, stirs inside me and I try to quiet him. I have to do this. I am loyal to the Network. Besides, if you aren’t working for them, then you’re against them. There’s no surer way to retire than to start to breakdown.
I take the stairs with the stealth of a dancer. The training was rigorous – no room for failure or lack of stamina until you had mastered all of the principles. I can call on reflexive movement, strength and endurance under pressure and go for days without sleep and not lose any of these faculties. I’d done it before. Many times.
At the top of the stairs I expect Neva to burst from the bathroom, gun in hand, but the door remains closed. I walk towards it, light on my feet; there’s barely a creak on the landing as I reach the door.
White light bursts behind my eyes as something knocks me down from behind. My head feels like it’s been cracked open. I try to turn but my knees buckle; I’ve been hit in precisely the right place. Only one of us would know how to do that.
I slip down into unconsciousness long before I hit the floor.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Michael
I’m tied to one of the wooden kitchen chairs when I wake. I struggle against the bonds but they’ve been secured so well that my struggles only make them tighter, not looser. Neva is taking no chances and I wouldn’t either in her shoes.
The House of Killers, Book 1 Page 25