by Marcus Alden
Sarah’s bedroom door was already open, but she wasn’t there. Sarah’s window was open too so he walked closer to see the view. With a bright clear sky, Dan could see where he was. Just in front of the house was a small patio garden and beyond that the land fell away to cliffs which the sea crashed against. The land curved around in a lazy arc like lumpy cheesecake that had been chipped away at with a spoon. Some of the seagulls squawked and dove in the air while others sat perched on the edge of the precipice. Dan stood distracted by the stunning scenery. Sarah walked in behind him dressed, but drying her hair with a towel.
‘Thought you’d sneak into my room, did you?’ Sarah said as she walked up behind him.
‘It’s so beautiful,’ Dan said.
‘Yeah, I know. Now you can see why I like this place so much. You’re late getting up,’ Sarah said as she picked up a hairbrush.
‘I couldn’t sleep last night so I finished sorting the files. I’ll get ready now. I’m surprised you could sleep at all after that phone call,’ Dan said as Sarah’s mobile rang. He headed to the bathroom for a shower.
‘Hi Mum, you ok?’ Sarah went quiet and listened. ‘No, I’m not; I’m not in Winchester. I’m at Nana’s cottage.’ After another pause Sarah replied. ‘I just needed to get away. No, everything is fine mum. I’m with a––. A friend. You know how much I love it here.’ Sarah listened to her mother’s inquisitive questions. ‘No, he’s just a friend Mum; no, I’m not inviting him to yours so you can meet him. Yes, Mum, of course, I’m fine. Tell her not to worry next time ok. Love you.’ Sarah slipped her mobile back in her pocket and chuckled to herself. She dropped the towel down and walked to the bathroom door and called through to Dan.
‘Dan, you know our mysterious stalker at the door last night? Well, we were in terrible danger. It was Mrs. Abbot from number four apparently; she’s been on the phone to mother saying there are intruders in our house.’ Dan hurried out of the shower and poked round from behind the door so Sarah could only see his face.
‘What? It wasn’t them at the door?’ Steam rose behind Dan.
‘Nope, it was just our busybody neighbour. She ran away in case we were murderers or burglars out to get her; she used to be a runner Mum said. What a batty woman.’
‘Great, at least they don’t know we’re here,’ Dan said relieved.
‘I’m going to get breakfast. Oh, and by the way––.’ Sarah paused to turn around. ‘For future reference, you might want to wear a towel before you open the door; there’s a mirror on the wall behind you.’ Dan checked behind him and realised what she had meant. A wry smile crept over her face as she went down the stairs.
* * * *
Dan deepened his voice as much as he could for the phone call and added a refined, well-spoken tone that might pass for Will’s father.
‘I need to speak with William Harvey-Bathurst, he’s my son. It’s an urgent matter that cannot wait.’ Dan held on the line for a few minutes while Will was fetched from class.
‘Hello?’ Will’s voice was inquisitive.
‘Hi, it’s Dan. You remember, from the library?’
‘I knew it couldn't be my father; he’d never call me. I knew straight away! So, what have you found? What does the book mean, did you find the painting in it?’ Will fired questions that tumbled out without pause.
‘Listen, I can’t tell you about it all now Will, but yes, we found the painting in Edinburgh. Someone had vandalised it with black paint so it was a dead end for us. But we do have a USB key that might have vital information on it. But Will, I need you to do something for me. Do you think you could help us?’ Dan said.
‘Are you kidding? Of course, I’ll help. I’ll do anything to distract me from this boring place,’ Will said.
‘Ok, well there’s two people in Winchester we need you to spy on. A solicitor called Alexander Maybury; his office is on Upper High Street, not far from you, and his assistant Jennifer. I want you to watch and see who comes and goes to the office. That’s all,’ Dan said.
‘It might be difficult. I’m not allowed to just walk out and do what I want, but I’ll have a go.’ Will changed the subject and went back to his high-speed speech. ‘Have you found any treasure? Because I’ve been reading about a hoard of gold they found in Staffordshire in 2009. It was one of the most important––.’ Will changed flow mid-sentence. ‘If you found anything like this you would tell me, wouldn’t you? Also, my friends Dad––.’
‘Will, are you listening? Only help us if you won’t get into trouble and no-one suspects anything. This is dangerous stuff,’ Dan said interrupting the continuing stream of words.
‘Oh of course I’ll get into trouble. But I’ll only help you if you tell me what’s going on,’ Will said.
‘We can’t yet Will. When we get back to Winchester I can explain it all. But until then make sure you don’t get seen. These people are very dangerous, and please don’t talk to them. Just do this and nothing else, ok?’ Dan said.
‘Ok ok,’ Will said dismissing Dan’s warning.
‘Write down my email address and mobile number in case you see anything.’ Dan called it out to him.
‘You will come back and see me, won’t you? My parents always say they will, but they never do. They just send a car to pick me up and get the housekeeper to look after me. You’ll promise to come back?’ Will asked.
‘Yes Will, I promise. Sarah and I will come back. Thanks for all your help.’ The call ended and Sarah walked into the lounge where Dan was sat.
‘Will is going to help us by keeping watch on Maybury.’ Sarah nodded. ‘Is something wrong?’ Dan asked.
‘With me? No, why do you say that?’Sarah said.
‘Where did you go?’ Dan didn’t buy her attitude. Something was wrong and she seemed preoccupied with it.
‘I just went to the shop for more milk,’ Sarah replied. Dan got up to get his breakfast unsure of what to think. As he stood at the worktop of the diminutive kitchen and chopped up an apple he couldn’t ignore her attitude. Sarah had been so open and light-hearted until now. He reached down into the fridge to find the litre of milk she had bought the night before still half full. Why had she said she’d gone to buy more when there was plenty and they were leaving soon, he thought? It didn’t make sense.
Dan’s mind started to wander. His panicked thoughts snowballed. Who was this girl he had so blindly trusted, what if she had lied to him all along? He thought back to how they’d met; she had just appeared outside Maybury’s office. She had been so willing to help him and had been there at every step of the journey so far. She could have been planted by Maybury; Dan didn’t want to believe it.
Then there was the call the night before and in the morning. Had she been secretly communicating with the thugs, feeding back all of their discoveries while pretending to be the loyal helper? Can I trust her? Dan questioned himself. His mind raced, but he tried to remain calm. With each cut of the apple his thoughts escalated and manifested into full blown doubt. Dan felt as if someone had just spun him round a hundred times and pushed him out of a plane. He was free falling, but without a parachute.
The sound of muted footsteps scuffed on the tiles behind him. They grew nearer and, in the reflection of the kettle, he saw Sarah look at him and then reach towards the knife block. Dan’s irrational ideas somehow started to make sense in his tired and frazzled mind. Could he trust her, should he not? Either way he had to act and have a definitive answer. The paranoia told him that if he didn’t do something he could have a sharp blade in his back at any moment. He turned around in his petrified stupor and shouted.
‘STOP!’ Dan’s hand shook as he held the knife. Sarah froze. She let out a shrill noise and stumbled back against the wall.
‘What are you doing Dan, put the knife down!’
‘Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you want me to do isn’t it? Right before you plunge one into my back. I should have known. You turn up just at the right time in Winchester and offer to help.’
�
��What? I’m just getting the––.’
‘Don’t explain; I don’t want to hear it. Just tell me, when did Maybury first contact you?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, please Dan, put the knife down.’
‘Maybury, when did he recruit you to get close to me?’ Dan fired back the question.
‘I don’t understand, Dan, please,’ Sarah said.
‘You went to get milk huh? We have plenty of milk here and you didn’t buy any more; don’t lie to me!’ Dan brought out the evidence of the half-full milk container from the fridge to supplement his argument.
‘I did, I went to the shop. I promise you. I only want to help you; I’ve never worked for Maybury.’ Sarah’s voice was shaky and her eyes pierced his with fear and misunderstanding. She held the palms of her hands up to him. He took a step closer to her. ‘Stay back Dan.’ He took another step forward. Sarah’s hands shook and her eyes began to tear. Sarah let out a final impassioned plea. ‘You have to trust me––. I––, I think I love you!’
Dan dropped the knife; it slid across the ceramic tiles. Sarah broke down in tears and covered her face. Dan stood motionless and stunned, staring down at the knife. What had he just done?
‘I thought you had betrayed me,’ Dan said in a quiet voice. ‘I really thought you were about to stab me.’
‘I could never hurt you––. I did just go to the shop; you have to believe me.’ Sarah pleaded. ‘I went to buy glue so I could stick the handle back on that teapot. It was Nana’s favourite.’ Sarah pointed over to the worktop where a white fluted teapot with delicate pink flowers sat. The snapped off handle lay beside it. ‘When I got to the shop I overheard a conversation and I panicked. They were talking about Adrian, our Adrian. I didn’t know where to look or what to do so I just ran out.’ Sarah’s eyes were teary.
‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Sarah. My mind was working overtime. When you came back you were acting strange. I thought you were involved somehow. This whole thing is taking over my life,’ Dan said. He paused. ‘Adrian? What about Adrian?’
‘He’s dead,’ Sarah said.
‘What? How can he be dead? What do you mean?’
‘The woman at the till was chatting with a customer about the news. She said a reporter had been found dead in an Edinburgh hotel. I knew before they’d finished talking it was him.’
‘It must be on the news then.’ Dan spoke with renewed urgency walking up to Sarah. ‘I’m sorry for what just happened, I really am. I’m not sure what came over me. It’s just all so intense, you know?’ Sarah nodded with reservation. ‘Let’s look together. If it really is Adrian then––.’ Sarah interrupted him.
‘Just give me a minute. I need a tea with lots of sugar for the shock first; I’m not used to people wielding knives at me. Go on in,’ Sarah said. Dan couldn’t help but feel everything was his fault. So many things were unbalanced, but the last few minutes had solidified something he could not put into words. Sarah was, without doubt, on his side and the danger of what they were involved in ever more real.
The banner running along the bottom of the 24-hour news channel confirmed the worst; a body had been found in an Edinburgh hotel. The news reporter spoke.
‘A man in his thirties, thought to be reporter Adrian Foster, has been found dead in an Edinburgh hotel room. Initial reports suggest that Mr. Foster had been staying at a hotel in George Street while on holiday in the capital. A source, close to the thirty-year-old reporter from Shoreditch, has informed us that Mr. Foster had been struggling with depression and had taken some time off work due to stress. The alarm was sounded yesterday when a cleaner entered the hotel room that was due to be vacated and found Foster slumped on the bed. The police and ambulance service were called immediately, but he was pronounced dead at the scene. The body has now been taken away for post mortem examination and his family has been informed. Though it remains unclear as to the circumstances leading up to his death, the police have issued a statement revealing that they are not looking for any suspects. Ruth Marlow reporting for––.’ Dan pulled his thoughts away from the TV.
Dan turned the TV off. Speechless, he stared at the blank screen that had delivered the fateful message. He replayed it in his head trying to identify all the details that were incorrect. Sarah walked in clutching a hot mug and leant against the door frame.
‘Repeat lies enough times and they become truth,’ Dan mumbled under his breath. He turned to Sarah, who had said something while he was fixated on his thoughts, but he hadn’t heard her.
‘It’s not the truth, is it?’ Sarah’s voice was quiet with a hint of self-doubt. ‘Adrian is dead and they killed him.’ Sarah felt a small amount of sick rise in her throat, the taste reached her tongue. She swallowed it back down.
‘There is only one version of the truth; the rest is lies. We were only with him yesterday and now he’s dead,’ Dan said.
‘Adrian got too close to the truth and look what happened to him. How can we––.’ Dan interrupted Sarah.
‘We will. Just focus on the next step and when that one has been walked we’ll get through the next one. Let’s not back off now otherwise his death is meaningless.’ Sarah, although she didn’t articulate it, agreed. The quote about evil triumphing because good men did nothing rang in Dan’s mind, though he could not remember who had said it or how he even knew it.
‘Dan, there’s something else I haven’t told you.’ Sarah gulped.
‘What is it?’ Dan said.
‘I think I saw them on my walk back. But I can’t be sure.’
‘Who?’
‘The thugs. I don’t think they saw me though, and I’m not even sure it was them,’ Sarah tried to reassure him.
‘We leave now. No packing, no anything, ok?’
Chapter 14
It took four hours fifty-three minutes from Whitby to Kings Cross station and, with three changes, Dan and Sarah were weary of trains. At least the journey provided time to plan the next move, Dan thought. They were not confident it would work, but there was no other choice. Sooner or later Hawk and Harrier would catch up with them.
Adrian’s research had led to an address linked to Atmore; 25 Old Broad St, the City of London meant nothing to either of them. Sarah’s quick search online had brought up photos of a recognisable metal clad skyscraper. So often seen in panoramic views of London, the tower was a landmark everyone knew, yet to most it was a complete stranger. Big business conducted its monumental work in the Square Mile around it, calculating unimaginable figures every week and forging new paths into stratospheric heights. It was where cutting-edge modernity met age old tradition. The Square Mile was Atmore’s playground.
Sarah stood in front of a sparse but neat clothes rail. The smart women’s clothes were subtle hues of grey and black; things she never needed to wear for her part-time job at the art shop in Winchester. To even get near Atmore’s office without suspicion she would need to look like a slick, high achiever from the City. Dan’s only knowledge of City professionals was what he had seen on The Apprentice, and Sarah was no wiser; they would bluff it and hope for the best.
The tall Japanese shop assistant lifted garments from the rail and suggested a grey fitted jacket and skirt to try on with a pink shirt. Her elegant frame draped the clothes from her elongated arm.
When Sarah had picked the items she wanted to try on, the assistant led the way for her to follow. Slinking across the polished cream floor, the lanky woman instructed Dan to take a seat outside the dressing room.
Dan sat on the padded round stool and waited for Sarah to emerge from the cubicle. Flecks of shiny stone sparkled in the glossy cream tiles as Dan rocked back and forth staring at the floor; his reflection detailed enough to show his tiredness. If he had the latest smartphone, Dan thought, moments like this would pass by without the dragging of time. But he didn’t like how everyone seemed addicted to technology; despite being so connected people seemed disconnected from others and the world.
Sarah ca
lled out for Dan to come and look at her outfit. She was standing in front of a full-length mirror craning her neck towards the back of the skirt. Her long brown hair was slung together over her left shoulder and rested on the grey jacket.
‘Do you think it looks ok?’ Sarah said scrutinising it. ‘It’s the only one left in my size.’ Her tone of voice was analytical as she surveyed the smart outfit so unlike her casual clothes she felt at home in.
Dan stood admiring her; she looked stunning he thought. The fitted jacket and shirt outlined her frame and nipped in at the waist. The fabric swept over her curves sculpting her body into statuesque perfection.
‘Yes. It’s––. Perfect,’ Dan said conscious that the dressing room attendant could hear every word. He leant in and spoke to Sarah in a hushed voice. ‘I think it’ll fool them.’ Sarah looked back reassured. Dan had already decided that he would say he liked it whether he did or not. Past experience had taught him that women were sensitive to the slightest criticism when choosing clothes, and in the past what had ensued from negative comments was waiting; lots more waiting. Though on this occasion he did not have to pretend. Sarah looked back in the mirror at him.
‘Ready?’ Dan asked. Sarah nodded back.
‘As much as I’m going to be.’
Catching the Hammersmith and City line they swapped the bright clothes shop for windowless tube station toilets at Moorgate that stank of urine. Sarah would enter the ladies’ toilet as a student and reappear as a high-powered business woman from the City.
As Sarah stuffed her old clothes into the leather tote bag she had bought to match the outfit, she could feel her pulse quicken.
‘Relax, it will be fine. It’s just an office,’ Sarah said out loud to tell her psyche to calm down from the racing beat that was trying to infiltrate. She had tied her hair back into a neat ponytail that made her slender face look severe and, after adding four-inch heels, her height was accentuated and more dominating. It had not been easy to change in the toilet; the floor was covered with water and sopping wet tissue paper clung to the dirty surface. One wrong move and the pristine pink shirt could have had an unidentifiable smudge on it, or the new skirt a saturated dark patch that wasn’t water.