Zed hesitated, not wanting to say anything that might incriminate himself or the colonel. Donnelly seized on his hesitation.
“That’s what I thought. Zed Samuels, you are formally charged with espionage, passing and receiving classified information.”
“I want to see the Colonel,” demanded Zed.
“He’ll not be back for some time,” answered Donnelly with notable scorn. “We’ll assign you legal representation, as is your right.”
Before he could protest further, he felt a sharp nick on the back of his neck, turning in surprise to see Donnelly’s aide holding a needle and syringe. Zed felt a warm sensation spread from his shoulder downwards, flooding his body with nothingness. His last conscious thought, before he blacked out, was of his daughter, Heather.
Chapter 30
Briggs had been gone for several days. Terra resolved to keep herself busy, wandering the extensive grounds of Walhampton School. Time passed more quickly that way. Staring out of the Headmaster’s study window on a rainy Sunday morning, Terra’s mind was elsewhere, certainly not on the Othello board, slowly filling with black and white disks. Her opponent was a novice, so only a modicum of concentration was required to stay on terms.
Connor lay on his stomach cradling his chin in both hands. His short-sleeved t-shirt rode up to reveal a sticking plaster on his bicep from his final compulsory booster injection. There had been so many now. Terra wasn’t sure what they were all for.
Since her trip to see Captain Anders on the Maersk Charlotte, Terra frequently returned to his comments about Jack. Her loud sigh made Connor lose concentration. Anders was right. That was the worst thing. She knew Jack’s death was as much her fault as anyone’s.
The recurring nightmares still had the power to wake her in the middle of the night, soaked with sweat. That ghastly image, legs twitching, face contorted, how he gasped for breath like some bloated fish out of water. How he kicked against her grip as she struggled to support his weight, swinging on that rope. When his struggle was complete, his body lay still on the shingle. She rested her head against his still warm chest, listening for a heartbeat. When she closed her eyes, she could still remember the smell of the sea on his skin. King refused to allow him a proper burial, cast in to the pit with all the others, dead from both sides. She would carry that guilt for the rest of her life.
“Your move,” interrupted Connor, puzzled by the tear streaking down Terra’s cheek. “Why are you crying?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, laughing it off, not daring to meet his wide-eyed stare. “I was just thinking about someone I lost.”
She knew no words could make the burden any lighter. What mattered now was staying strong, distancing herself from the past, never showing weakness nor allowing her mask to slip again.
The door flew open, leaving a dent in the plaster. The framed map of the Solent swung back into equilibrium, quivering on its hook. Copper strode in, rosy cheeked, mud streaked across his face from the morning’s hunt. The boy got up and ran over to meet him, throwing his arms around the former policeman’s midriff. Copper’s awkwardness amused Terra, disarmed by the boy’s affection.
“Can we go fishing again today?” asked Connor. “Please, Copper.”
“Maybe this afternoon,” he replied, trying to extricate himself from the boy’s grasp. He ruffled Connor’s hair, easing him to one side. “I’ve got stuff I need to do first.”
Connor looked disconsolate.
“Hey, he didn’t say no, did he?” explained Terra, rising to her feet. “He said maybe later, when you’ve done your chores. We can finish this later. Now, off you go.”
With some reluctance, Connor repacked his Spiderman rucksack and dragged it along the carpeted floor into the corridor outside. Terra crossed her arms as the boy sulked away, smiling with a mother’s pride. “He wouldn’t stop talking about the last trip you did,” she acknowledged, shaking her head. “Thank you. It meant a lot to him.”
“I only did it because Briggs asked me,” said Copper in a monotone as if the act gave him no pleasure.
“Come on, Copper. You had a great time. Connor said.” He blinked back at her, poker-faced. “Briggs said you had a boy his age,” she continued, hoping he might elaborate. “Mine was a bit younger. Marlow would have been seven next month.” She added just the right degree of melancholy, hoping Copper might reciprocate. She had tried everything to get inside his head. The boy was her latest throw of the dice. Her Trojan Horse.
“Jasper. He was twelve.”
“Jasper? I always loved that name. So what happened to him?”
“Him and his mum died in the first wave of the outbreak. Underlying health issue. Asthma. He was forever wheezing, even before the virus.”
“You must miss him terribly?”
“Sometimes. He liked fishing.” He directed his answer to the wall, avoiding meeting her stare, not trusting himself. Grief caught up on people at the most unexpected moments, mused Terra. “We used to spin for mackerel off the back of a dory in the Lymington river.” Terra grimaced in sympathy, inwardly pleased with the progress she was making. Little by little, Copper was letting down his guard. “What about you? Were you married?” asked Copper.
“God no. Marlow was a happy accident.” Terra laughed, feigning embarrassment.
“A surprise,” corrected Copper.
“Not the way Marlow’s dad saw it. He was already married. Said he’d leave her but he never did.”
“What happened to him?”
“JP? He went back to Paris. Didn’t stick around long enough to get to know Marlow. Just sent a cheque each month.” Terra saw an angle, shaking her head. “He worked for the police too.” Copper nodded. “He had this disgusting moustache,” she laughed. “I used to call him Poirot.”
“Poirot was Belgian. You mean Clouseau?”
“Maybe. Anyway, long distance relationships were never my forte. He was in the PP, Paris police. Far too controlling, even from hundreds of miles away.”
Copper smiled as if he knew exactly what she meant. “No one likes being told what to do.”
She studied the former policeman as if trying to identify a chink in his armour. “I’m glad we’re talking. You’re different when Briggs isn’t around.” Thanks to Connor, over the last few weeks, Copper had become noticeably more human, vulnerable even. “I could never figure out the hold King had over you.”
“King?” Copper blew out his cheeks, his dead eyes that so rarely blinked searching for any signs of deception, like the policeman of old. “King liked playing games, corrupting, twisting, blackmailing.”
“Blackmailing you? How?” she asked innocently, excited by the unexpected breakthrough.
“He found something out. Happened years ago.”
“Don’t tell me: money? It’s always money.”
“Root of all evil. What was yours?”
“Debt. Borrowed two grand off another copper to buy this stupid motorbike. Classic Norton. She was beautiful, but a complete mess. I had to strip her down, regrind the cylinder block, new valves, the whole lot, bits everywhere in my garage for months. Anyway, my mate pops round to say he needs the money back. Some sob story about a run of bad luck on the horses.”
“So what happened?” Terra encouraged him to continue.
“Well I couldn’t sell the bike and I didn’t have the money to pay him back. Turns out he was up to his eyeballs in debt. Next thing, this loan shark starts leaning on him.”
“They didn’t care he was a police officer?”
“You don’t know these people. They’re always offering to lend. Angling for favours. Next thing I know, the debt collector comes knocking on my door, threatening to seize the TV, making thinly veiled threats to my family. All the time, interest is piling up.”
“What did you do?”
“I cut a deal but I should have known. Too good to be true. They agreed to waive my monthly payment in return for station memos, gossip, that sort of thing. Anecdotes about fellow o
fficers, what they were like, who knew who.”
“That’s how it starts.”
“Then they threaten to report you if you don’t give them what they want. Intelligence about active operations. County-lines gangs, drug trafficking, that sort of thing.”
“Victor said you were suspended from duty.”
“No, I was never charged,” he rebutted, on the back foot.
“But they were on to you?”
Copper seemed surprised by the extent of Terra’s knowledge. “I stood to lose everything. My job, my pension. They were monitoring my calls and emails. Those bastards in PSU were fishing for anything they could use. Then the outbreak came along.”
“Gave us all a second chance. So how did King find out?”
“Someone must have grassed me up.”
“One of your lot?”
“No, no way they would shop another officer.”
“And King blackmailed you?”
“He tried, but by then I had nothing left to lose. My family were all gone.”
“King had a knack. It’s like he could see into your very soul. Tap into whatever private frustration or resentment you had.”
“I didn’t realise you knew King so well.”
“I’ve known men like him all my life. What made you betray him?”
Copper stiffened as if she had touched a raw nerve. “I never betrayed no one. King had it coming.”
“But I didn’t notice you mourning his loss either.”
“When you play with fire, you get your fingers burned. No-one respected him.”
“Whereas Briggs…?” she began.
“Briggs is different. What you see is what you get. He’s about the straightest ex-con I know.” Copper seemed amused by his own joke. Terra smiled inwardly, remembering Briggs’ confession about playing up to people’s expectations. There was so much more to Briggs than met the eye. “Anyway, King was always the junior partner in that relationship. Always backsliding, playing games, twisting things round to suit him. At least when Briggs says he’ll do something, he does it.” Copper paused as if surprised by his own candour. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you know as well as I do.”
“As much as it’s possible to know anyone.” Terra shrugged. “We live in this permanent darkness. It’s so easy to lose your sense of direction.” Copper nodded, intrigued by her choice of words. “King was forever pretending to be something he wasn’t. We all need to make the most of the second chance we’ve been given, don’t you think?”
Terra studied Copper as he took another sip of coffee. He seemed altogether calmer. Without King as an accelerant, the rage was all but extinguished. If she could just find her own point of leverage, as King found, Copper might just prove useful.
Their moment of intimacy was rudely interrupted by Victor. He scanned the room as if looking for someone. Finding them together threw him off balance. He made as if to leave again, but Copper called him back.
“I should be going,” admitted Copper, draining his cup and rising from his seat. He brushed past Victor without looking. As soon as he was gone, Victor took Copper’s place, keeping his voice low. “I told you not to trust that guy.”
“I just need more time. He’s coming round.”
“You said the same about King.”
“I was wrong, but not this time.” Her eyes lingered for a moment, gauging his mood. “If I didn’t know better, Victor, I’d say you were jealous.”
“Of him?” said Victor with a dismissive wave of the hand. “He’s an errand boy. He does what he’s told.” He paused, furrowing his eyebrows. “You should not provoke me. Things can still go very differently for you.”
“We both know we can destroy each other in a moment. But how would that help?”
“You have just as much to lose. Don’t get too cocky.”
“I know what you’re planning, Victor. Your little stash on the Charlotte? You’re getting ready to leave, aren’t you?”
“I told you before, always have a backup plan. Our deal stands, providing you hold up your end of the agreement.” Victor took a breath and his shoulders seemed to relax. “Speaking of which, when you were at Hurst, did you ever trade with an Italian group based at Highcliffe Castle?”
“We called them the Mafia. Their leader was a big fat guy, Salieri, looked like Pavarotti, but without the voice or the looks? Why?”
“Briggs asked me to set up a meeting. I thought your paths might have crossed. You know, one castle to another?”
The question sounded almost childlike, as if castles had their own private communication channels, flags and smoke signals.
“I never actually met Salieri, but I heard stories about him. Unusual proclivities. Why is Briggs so interested?”
“Other than your old friends at Hurst, they’re the only group for miles around we haven’t managed to form an alliance with. Briggs thought you might be able to help.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’ve twisted everyone else round your little finger.”
“I suppose I could try talking to him. I rather think Connor would be the better option. Apparently, he likes them young,” she laughed.
“Briggs wants you to talk to Riley again.”
“After what happened last time? You’re joking. She wants nothing more to do with us.”
“Everyone wants something. They’ve had a hard winter, I’m sure there’s something we could do to get them back on their feet?”
“I’m not using Connor as a bargaining chip, if that’s what you’re thinking? I’ll talk to Briggs when he’s back.”
“He put me in charge.”
Terra hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I think I figured out why Briggs went to Folkestone.”
“Did Anders tell you?” Victor seemed annoyed that Terra knew anything about Briggs’s trip. He leaned in closer with a snarl. “Don’t breathe a word of this to Copper or anyone else.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.”
“So what do you think you know?”
“Briggs has been playing both sides, all along, working with the Allies. You knew didn’t you?”
Victor slapped Terra hard across the face. “I told you. Keep your nose out of my business.” She clutched at her stinging cheek, fire in her eyes. She wanted to kill Victor right now. “Do as you’re told.”
“Not until you start telling me what’s really going on. I’m warning you. I don’t care what he does to me. Who has more to lose?” She left her question hanging for him to ponder. He raised his hand to strike her again, but thought better of it.
“Briggs was very clear. He wants you to go talk to Hurst and Salieri as soon as possible.”
“I can’t just turn up out of the blue, can I? I need a way in.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Victor clicked his fingers. He wheeled around and shouted to one of his men, standing outside the door. “Go get the Professor. I’ve got a job for him.”
Chapter 31
The next morning, Riley, Scottie and Will set off for Highcliffe Castle to meet with Salieri, the Italian Scottie jokingly referred to as ‘The Godfather’. Riley had to admit she was curious, even hopeful the demise of their neighbour could foster a new alliance, built on trade and a mutual recognition of respective territories. Like Hurst Castle, Highcliffe resisted Briggs’s overtures, content to preserve its independence and avoid affiliation with the Allies and the bureaucracy that came bundled with a quasi totalitarian state. Riley was well aware Jack, Hurst’s own founding father, had never shown much enthusiasm for formal alliances. The capture of Heather and Jen had forced Riley’s hand.
Riley spent most of the night rehearsing what she planned to say to Salieri, mindful of Jack’s timeless aphorism: ‘God gave you two ears and one mouth, use them in proportion.’ Perhaps listening first would be a useful starting point and the right course to steer to avoid a gathering storm. The Italians were a much larger group. If their differences could not be resol
ved, Riley knew they would have little chance in a fight.
Scottie seemed introspective as they stowed their weapons in a lockable storage box behind the Toyota Land Cruiser’s back row of seats, out of sight but within reach if needed. He had expressed his concerns about going cap in hand to Salieri, preferring a show of force. Will turned off the main road to Christchurch, braking hard as a hooded figure stepped into their path, waving them to a halt by the side of the road. His partner emerged from a shelter, holding a double-barrelled shotgun.
Salieri’s man circled their vehicle, extending what looked like a telescopic selfie-stick, a mirror or camera attached, checking for any hidden explosives. Scottie warned them the Italians’ security would be tight. Beyond the first barrier, another guard directed them to over by the entrance to the castle, an automatic weapon slung under his arm.
“We’re here to see Salieri,” said Will. “From Hurst Castle.”
The guard leaned on the open window, casually chewing gum, staring at Riley, head tilted. He grinned, revealing perfect white teeth, a dimple in his cheeks. Olive skin, slicked back dark hair, strikingly handsome, she thought.
Without taking his eyes off her he spoke rapidly into a hand-held radio in fluent Italian. There was an animated exchange, but then every Italian conversation she had ever heard sounded like an argument.
“Welcome to Highcliffe. Park over there on the left.” He winked as they drove off towards the sprawling Georgian mansion.
“Charmer,” sniped Will under his breath.
They crawled along behind an articulated lorry as it reversed down the track towards the tradesman’s entrance. A fork-lift operator paused for a second to let them pass before returning to his task, unloading pallets stacked with supermarket produce. In a make-shift garage, a mechanic in overalls used an acetylene torch, welding sheet metal to the side of a pickup truck, sparks flying all around him.
In stark contrast to the beauty and isolation of Hurst, Highcliffe Castle was more Gothic stately home than military fort. Designed for some wealthy nobleman two centuries before, the stained-glass windows, high ceilings and richly carved archways reminded Riley more of a cathedral.
The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger Page 22