by Kate Johnson
By the time I came down to breakfast I was feeling a hell of a lot better than I had the morning before. I ate some cereal and inhaled some coffee, and looked out of the window. The sky was clear and bright, I had sunglasses in my bag, the grass was green and I felt lively. I’d let the sun dry my hair.
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” I announced to Éibhlís and Kennedy. “See if I can find Docherty.”
They nodded and told me that there was a path at the back of the stables that ran in a wide loop, a very pretty walk a couple of kilometres long.
A couple of Irish kilometres, no doubt. I hoped our flight wasn’t until the evening.
The walk was indeed very pretty, and I felt pretty happy as I meandered along, saying hello to the horses grazing in the fields, feeding them handfuls of grass and laughing as they tickled my hand, snuffling the grass up. My phone battery was dead from searching for signal all night, and my emergency charger was all out of batteries, but it was okay, I could buy some on the way to the airport. Surely there must be a well-stocked shop around here somewhere—where had Éibhlís got all her groceries from?
I made a mental to-do list as I walked, breathing in great lungfuls of gorgeous clean air. I wanted to bottle that air and take it home with me. First thing, though, was to scan in the pages of some of those documents and e-mail them to myself. That way I could print them out for Luke and Karen and Angel. We could do an Internet search for the Séala when I got back.
I also had to get hold of Docherty and find out what was going on with our return travel arrangements. I assumed we were going home today, but I could be wrong. Everything here moved very slowly. We could be here for weeks.
Shame.
When I knew what was going on, I ought to report back to Karen. I was sure there’d be a house phone I could use, but the thing was I didn’t know the number. I could hardly call up Directory Enquiries and ask them for the SO17 number, could I? And I doubted Luke or Maria would be listed.
I doubted Macbeth even had a house, let alone a house phone.
I could call Angel, I suppose. She could speak to Luke for me. But her number was unlisted, too, and I wasn’t entirely sure if I knew it off by heart properly.
I was probably about half a mile from the house when it happened. A huge, booming explosion that shook the ground and sent the horses nearby galloping to the other side of the paddock.
Janulevic, I thought, and set off at a run.
Suddenly the ground seemed muddy, the air too heavy to run in, my lungs were bursting, I couldn’t run because my legs were made of lead. Really squidgy lead. I rounded the corner of the hedge that bordered the boreen, and where the house should have been was a great big pile of smouldering rubble.
I stood and stared for quite a while, smoke stinging my eyes, and my only thought was that I was really, really glad I had the car keys, and I could get the hell out of here.
The Fiesta had one side—the driver’s side—caved in, but I could get in the passenger side and shuffle over, start the ignition and pray for it to kick over, and then I gunned it down the drive. Janulevic had tried to get me before. He’d be trying to get me now. I shoved thoughts of Docherty and Éibhlís and Kennedy and documents out of my head and rammed pedal to metal.
I drove through the gently drifting clouds of smoke, recklessly twisting down narrow lanes and paying no attention to where I was going. It wasn’t until I found myself coming up to a little town that I realised I’d have to get myself an actual direction to go in.
I pulled into a parking space and got the road map out of the glove box, shaking. I was over the county border into Cork now, and according to the map not far from the city itself.
The city which had an airport.
It seemed like hours until I got there, but get there I did, abandoning the car and zombie-walking into the terminal. I found the Ace booking desk and got myself a flight back to Stansted in an hour. Then I wandered over to the pay phones, shoved in a few cents and dialled the emergency services.
“I couldn’t see as I drove past,” I said, “but I think the house burned down. I heard an explosion. Maybe it was gas. It was very smoky. There might have been people in there. I think there were horses, too. Someone needs to go and help.”
They asked for the address and I gave it as well as I could, trying to remember the towns and villages I’d driven through. And then they asked for my name, and I put the phone down and went upstairs to airside and got myself a large Irish whiskey, even thought I hate whiskey and it was the middle of the day, and downed it in one.
Then I cried.
The thought occurred to me as I was boarding.
I was wondering how Janulevic knew where we were. And from there I got to wondering how he knew where I lived. And then, out of nowhere, came the sneaky, perfidious little thought that Docherty had been there both times.
Docherty had found Petr’s body. Docherty had left the house an hour before the bomb went off. Docherty had got me to go to Ireland. He’d had access to all the things Angel knew, to everything in her house, looking for the Séala.
And I’d just fed him more information.
I started to feel clammy and shaky. The crewman checking my boarding pass had to catch me as I nearly fell.
“Are you all right?”
I stared at him. “I—I’m fine, I think I’m fine… I just got dizzy.” I wandered down to my seat, my mind racing. I couldn’t use my phone on board, of course I knew that—and even if the airline had let me I couldn’t anyway, because I’d forgotten to get batteries for my charger.
It took quite a while to explain what I needed. I was one of the last ones to board and they wouldn’t let me off. I had to take my seat and wait until we were properly airborne before I could get anyone to listen to me, and even then I think they thought I was a terrorist.
I wrote out a message for the trolley dolly. “I need you to radio this to Stansted ATC,” I said, “and get them to call it through to the police. Tell them we don’t need any police presence, but this person must be there.”
Looking bewildered, she took my note and went up into the cockpit. A few minutes later, she came back.
“They got the message,” she said. “They’ll do what they can.”
The flight went horribly slow for me and when we landed, everyone was in my way. I raced up the jet bridge, my heart thumping, and when I saw Luke waiting at the top I threw my arms around him.
“What is it?” he said. “What’s so urgent?”
“Where’s Angel?”
“What? She’s with Macbeth.”
“At home?”
“Yes—”
“Get her out of there. She needs to go. Go away. Somewhere secret. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Sophie, are you all right?”
“I’m okay. I’m fine.”
He rubbed a thumb across my forehead. “Is that ash? What’s going on?”
“We have to go,” I said. “We have to go and get Angel out of her house.”
Luke started walking. “Is she in danger there?”
“Yes. Very definite danger. From Docherty.”
Luke stopped walking.
“Docherty? Soph, did you hit your head?”
“No, but about three hours ago I saw Professor Kennedy’s house blown up. He was in it. With his daughter. Docherty was nowhere to be seen. I know, I went out looking for him. Luke, he took me out there to get rid of me. Along with the Kennedys. He did it all together so it’d look like Janulevic did it. And he killed Petr. That’s how he found him. Janulevic didn’t put him there.”
Luke was looking at me like I'd just turned green and vomited lava all over the satellite floor.
“Docherty—” he began, and I held up my hand.
“He knew about the gun,” I said.
“What gun?”
“When you called me, yesterday, and said about the gun that shot Petr being the same that shot you? Docherty said a lot of people have .22s.”
“…So?”
“So, I never told him it was a .22.”
Luke stared at me for a long time. Then he grabbed my hand and started moving. Fast. “We have to move Angel,” he said. “Why didn’t you call me before?”
“I only realised when I was on the plane. My phone is dead. My suitcase… Dammit, and my gun too, they’re still at Kerry airport. At least, I hope they are.”
Luke tossed me his mobile. “Call them. Call Angel too. Tell her to get packing. You have any idea where she can go?”
I had no idea at all.
I called Angel and told her to start packing up her essentials, that we’d sort something out when we got there. She sounded alarmed, and I hadn’t the composure to reassure her.
“I’ll explain when we get there,” I said. Then I called the Ace ticket desk and got them to give me the number of Kerry airport. Eventually I got through to their baggage desk, where they said they had a suitcase and a firearm awaiting collection. I told them to send both items to Stansted, ended the call and went up to the baggage desk where I told them to give me a call when my things arrived. Then I followed Luke down to the car park and drove him home.
“How’d you get here?”
“Karen drove me over. She still won’t let me drive.”
“I notice you lost the splint. And the sling.”
“They annoyed me.”
Let that be a lesson to me.
I made a quick stop at my house to say hello to Tammy, who wasn’t talking to me, and to pick up the revolver I’d half-inched from Petr. It was still loaded, and I tucked it into my handbag. We set off for Angel’s and found her throwing things into a case, looking panicked as Macbeth tried and failed to reassure her.
“Where’s Docherty?” she asked.
“Hopefully far, far away. He’s a bad guy, Angel. He tried to have me killed. We need to get you away—”
“But how can he be bad? He protected me…”
“He was trying to find this Séala thing. Angel, it’s Celtic, a seal, maybe a seal ring. Do you have anything like that?”
She shook her head. “My dad’s signet ring…”
“Show me.”
We followed her into her bedroom and she opened up her little jewellery box. I knew she had a safe upstairs where all her mother’s jewels were kept, but all the things in here were personal—a christening spoon, a charm bracelet, a pendant with pictures of her parents in it. And her father’s signet ring.
Luke and I looked at it. A normal gold ring. “It still pretty much means nothing to me,” I confessed.
“Well, it means something to me,” Angel said, tipping out the contents of her makeup bag and replacing them with the things from the jewellery box. “Sophie, could you go and get the Simon & Patrick for me, please?”
I frowned and went upstairs to get it. I don’t know the first thing about guitars, but I knew Chalker had saved up for one of these for the sole reason that Greg Winter used to have one. Once he came over and Angel let him play and it was like seeing a holy man at Lourdes. All his dreams had come true.
I brought the guitar down with its hard case, and watched Angel pack it away. “You really can’t think of anything that might be a seal?”
She cast her eyes around the room. “I really can’t. Mum was never really into Celtic jewellery, she liked her diamonds, you know? And Dad really only wore this and his wedding ring.”
“Maybe it’s not jewellery,” Luke said.
“It could be anything,” I said in despair. “Right now we have to think about getting Angel away. If Docherty comes back, I don’t want you anywhere near this place.”
“Do you maybe have some friends you could stay with?” Luke asked.
Angel shrugged. “I’m guessing this doesn’t include you,” she said to me, and I shook my head. “Well, Livvy and Charis live in London…”
“Too busy,” Luke said.
“Penny lives just up the road…”
“Too close,” I said.
“Well, I suppose there’s Livvy’s dad’s house…”
“Where’s that?”
“Cornwall.”
“You think he’ll let you stay?”
“He probably won’t even notice. It’s huge. Oh—” She put her hand to her mouth.
“What?”
“The Trust Ball. It’s supposed to be tomorrow, it’s in London…”
“No,” Luke said. “No way.”
“But it’s every year.” Angel’s voice was firm. “It raises millions for the Trust.”
“What trust?” Macbeth asked. I’d forgotten he was there, which is quite a feat.
“The IC Winter Cancer Trust,” I said. “Every year they have a huge charity ball to raise money. Totally A-list. Coverage in the glossies and everything.”
“But not this year,” Luke said.
“Yes,” Angel said, “this year.”
“It’s too high-profile—”
“The security is amazing! Livvy arranges it. Bouncers all over the place, everyone gets scanned as they come in. Even the caterers. He won’t get in.”
“I don’t care. It’s not happening.”
Angel looked mutinous, and I suggested quickly, “Why don't you give Livvy a ring and see if you can go down and stay at her dad’s place? We’ll sort something out about the ball.”
Angel looked doubtful, but she left the bedroom and went out into the kitchen to call her very posh friend Livvy.
“She’s not going to give up about this ball,” I said. “Her dad set up the trust and it’s happened every year since IC died. It’s the closest thing Angel has to a religion.”
“Can you say that in a house of God?” Macbeth wondered.
“Whereabouts in Cornwall is this place?” Luke asked me.
“I’ve never been, but I think it’s off to the south somewhere. Off the coast.”
“Off the coast? What, is it a yacht?”
“No,” I shook my head, “it’s on a, what do you call it, like a peninsula or something. Somewhere near Falmouth.”
“That’s the Lizard peninsular,” Macbeth said.
“No, it’s not there. It’s off the coast. In the sea. On a sort of little island, you can only get across when the tide’s out or you have to take a boat.”
“Like St Michael’s Mount?”
“Do not mention the name Michael,” I said darkly.
Luke looked puzzled.
“That’s Docherty’s name.”
“Seriously? I never knew that.”
“Can we get back to the issue at hand here?” Macbeth said, but Angel opened the door and walked in before anyone else could speak. She had the cordless phone pressed to her ear.
“We have a proposition,” she said, and Luke looked wary.
“We?”
“Me and Livvy. Her PR firm is handling the ball. She says maybe we could hold it at Pela Orso.”
“What?”
“Lancelot’s castle?” Macbeth frowned, and Angel looked impressed.
“That’s what it’s named for, yes. It’s really remote—out to sea most of the time. We could maybe charter ‘copters from Newquay airport, make it an adventure.” She listened to something from Livvy, and then said, “We could get all the guests to assemble at City airport and fly them all down in secrecy.”
Luke looked sceptical. Macbeth looked thoughtful. I was thinking, how cool is this?
“That could work,” I said. “No, I think it could. It’d generate huge publicity, everyone’ll be trying to figure out where they are…”
“The sea might give it away,” Luke said.
“Yes, but by then they’ll be there, and anyway, it’ll be dark. Afterwards it won’t matter so much where everyone was. And I don’t think Docherty’s the type to read glossies anyway.”
It took us ages to persuade Luke, and in the end I called Maria and Karen, who both thought it was an excellent idea and suggested that Luke and I went to the ball to keep an eye on things. Outvoted, Luk
e gave in, while I wondered idly who Karen had planned on sending to the ball to bodyguard Angel in the first place. Macbeth carried Angel’s stuff out to the car and drove her off down to Cornwall, and I was left with Luke, who scowled a lot like everything was my fault.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said, “it wasn’t my idea.”
“I didn’t hear you disagreeing.”
“I think it will work. It’ll be really cool. It’ll protect Angel and boost the charity’s profile.”
Luke glared at me and threw himself at the sofa. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt and I could see the bandage around his left bicep. Somehow it made him look sexier.
“And look at it this way—you get to go to one of the most exclusive parties of the year.”
“Big deal,” Luke said. “I go to all the exclusive parties. There’s always someone there needs keeping an eye on.”
“Well, you’re just a bundle of fun today.”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I just can’t believe Docherty is in on this.”
“Believe it.”
“It could have been Janulevic…”
“How did he know where we were? Luke, I didn’t know where we were and I was there. Janulevic couldn’t have known where I lived, either. He—oh God, Luke!”
“What?”
“It was Docherty who was shooting at us! Who shot you. We just assumed it was Janulevic because we thought we were after him. What if this whole thing is made up?”
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t even know if Janulevic exists. Docherty could be masquerading as him to put us off the trail. If you’re looking for a Czech you wouldn’t suspect an Irishman. If he really is Irish.”
“He is. At least, he was when I trained with him.”
“SAS?”
Luke nodded and stood up. “Soph, you really think he was trying to kill you?”
I nodded and shivered, and he came over and put his arms around me. “Well, he missed. You’re good at escaping that, you know?”
“So far.”
“Don’t get maudlin on me.”
“I trusted him, Luke.”
“Me too. I suggested him.”