by Olly Jarvis
Ella gulped. Why send a coded message directed at someone with an academic background, a knowledge of history? She suddenly felt humbled by a deep personal connection with Matthew. She said out loud, ‘Thank you.’
Triumphantly, she took her laptop out of her bag just as her phone bleeped with a text from Lizzie.
Thanks for today, meant a lot. Hope Greg was a hit? X
Ella felt a lump in her throat. Things were looking up. She texted back.
Definitely!
She pushed the flash drive into a USB port on the side of the Mac. A folder appeared onscreen – password protected. She groaned. There had to be a catch. It was just like getting evidence discs from the CPS, they always forgot to send the password.
She tried numerous combinations; Cameron Shepherd, Matthew, even polymath. Nothing worked. She got into a routine of pacing the room, entering a new word, getting more frustrated as each attempt failed.
She looked at her phone again, taking solace from Lizzie’s message. Then she had an idea. She typed in another reply.
Have you got Jay’s number – need to call in that debt!
Already!? ’Fraid not, didn’t really know him that well x
Now you tell me! X
Ha ha x
But how could she get hold of Jay? She was sure he’d know how to override the password. Then she remembered his folder, still in her bag. She’d seen his address somewhere in there. She pulled it out and thumbed through. There it was, a flat in King’s Hedges, just north of the city centre. She tapped the address into google maps on her phone. She could get there on the bike in no time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Agent Harris came out of the cubicle and washed her hands at the sink, then dried them carefully with a paper towel. Rather than screw it up she folded it neatly and dropped it in the bin. She made a few minor adjustments to her hair in the mirror then stood back to assess her trouser suit. She flicked a piece of fluff off the lapel, leaned in, studying her complexion. It had to be important to be summoned at this time of night.
Ready as she’d ever be, she walked out into the corridor and sat down on one of the antique wooden chairs with worn, red leather upholstery. Old portraits of men in gilt frames lined the walls. Each one with its own lamp above and an engraved inscription below.
The imposing double doors at the end of the corridor opened and a man came out dressed in a Savile Row three-piece. ‘You ready, Ginger?’ he said in a public school accent.
Harris stood up and pulled down her jacket. ‘Told you not to call me that,’ she replied.
He smirked. ‘Don’t fuck this up, Harris. It’s a last chance.’
She ignored the comment and double-checked her phone was on silent.
‘Remember, this is why you never got a life?’ His mouth formed into a leer. ‘No husband, no kids.’ He led her to the door and held it open for her.
As she passed, Harris gave him the finger.
The long narrow room had no windows and was dominated by a rectangular table, all but two empty chairs occupied by middle-aged men, a couple of whom were in military uniform, medals sewn on to the breast.
The colleague retook his place.
‘Sit down, Harris,’ said a portly man with a round face and spectacles, dressed in civvies. His hair was in a combover that wouldn’t fool anyone.
Harris obeyed.
‘So, what can you tell us?’ he asked, without making any introductions.
Harris sat up straight. ‘A QC called Ella Blake is chairing the inquiry. She’s staying at the Gonville Hotel.’
‘What does she know?’
She cleared her throat. ‘Very little, less than us, anyway.’ She waited obediently for the next question.
‘That’s not saying much,’ derided a man in uniform. ‘Where are you getting your information?’
She kept her back straight. ‘A local DC called McDonald. Completely in the dark but he’s eager to help, very ambitious but not bright.’
The main guy seemed appeased. ‘Should we be concerned about her?’
She took her time. ‘Not at this stage, but I wouldn’t underestimate her.’
‘I’ve heard she’s a washed up drunk?’ another man piped up from the other end of the room.
Harris gave him her attention. ‘She does have issues.’
The chairman scoffed, making his jowls quiver. ‘Issues? You can forget all that politically correct codswallop in here, Agent Harris.’
Harris touched her neck. She could feel her skin going red. ‘I think she’s primarily focused on building bridges with her daughter, sir. She’s an undergraduate.’ She placed her hands symmetrically on the table.
‘More to the point, Harris, have you found your CHIS yet?’ He looked at her disdainfully over the top of his glasses.
‘No sir, not yet,’ she replied looking down at her hands. ‘But as you know sir, he wouldn’t sign up, so strictly speaking, he’s not an informant.’
‘All right, all right,’ he said, swatting her words away with the back of his hand. ‘Anyway, bloody well find him,’ he snarled. ‘Had the embassy on four times today. You do understand how important this is?’
She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Of course, sir.’
He moved his head to the side and stared at her, as if weighing her up.
She didn’t flinch.
He sighed. ‘All, right, that’ll be all.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she replied, rushing to get up. ‘Thank you, sir.’
The same escort showed her out. Once they were out of ear-shot, he said in a whining voice, ‘She’s got issues.’ He tutted. ‘You’re a fucking idiot, Ginger.’
Harris kept walking.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jay’s apartment was in a non-descript four-storey block on Topper Street.
Ella ran her finger down the numbers at the entrance. Pitois, number 22. She pressed the buzzer.
After a minute: ‘Hello?’
‘Hi Jay? It’s Ella Blake?’
‘Ella? Is everything OK?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, looking at her watch and realising it was after midnight. ‘Sorry to come so late but I was hoping to call in that favour?’
‘Sure, come up. Second floor, the lift’s broken.’ He buzzed her in.
The drab walls were covered in graffiti and the hallway smelt of urine. She was glad Lizzie didn’t have to live in a place like this. She walked up the stairs and found Jay standing in his doorway, in a t-shirt and boxers.
‘I wasn’t expecting this?’ he said.
‘Nor was I,’ she replied, jokily averting her eyes. ‘Thought you’d be out celebrating your acquittal?’
He almost blushed as he looked down at his state of undress. ‘No one to do it with. Pathetic I know.’ He walked back inside and picked up a pair of jogging bottoms off the sofa.
She followed him into the tiny space, surveying the kitchen-diner. The walls were covered with framed photos and posters of animals, plants – the living. The worktop and floor were in need of urgent attention, rubbish and unwashed crockery scattered about. ‘Jesus, I thought you were against pollution?’
Hopping, he got one leg through, then the other. ‘Sorry, I know it’s a bit of a mess.’ Then, finally seeming to get the joke he said, ‘I suppose living alone so long, you let things slide.’ Now that he was dressed, he seemed to relax a little.
‘I can totally relate to that.’ Her heart went out to him. ‘But you’ll never get a girl back here with it looking like this.’
‘I thought I just did?’ He winked.
Ella smiled. ‘My God, you’ve got a sense of humour.’
Jay laughed.
Ella felt a rush of maternal affection. She started picking up some broken prawn crackers off the floor. ‘How about I help you clean this place up, and then you help me?’
His eyes widened. ‘Sure.’
‘Got any bin liners?’
He got a roll from under the sink, ripped one off and pul
led it open. ‘I hear Lizzie’s got a new bloke?’
Ella dropped a few empty beer cans into the bag. ‘Looks like it.’ She eyed him with a newfound tenderness. ‘Did you think you were in the running?’
‘No,’ he snapped, making a mess of trying to sound matter-of-fact. ‘Of course not.’
Ella stopped and gave him her full attention. ‘Why of course?’
‘Well,’ he said, eyes everywhere except on Ella. ‘You know.’
‘No, actually I don’t.’ She went back to her work. Even without looking at him, she could sense Jay’s surprise at her observation. ‘You got a J cloth or something for this table?’
‘Yeah.’ He ran a dirty rag under the tap. ‘So, what’s he like?’
‘Clever, a bit like you, just smoother.’
He seemed to mull it over. ‘Nobody likes a smoothie.’
They both giggled. They worked together in companionable silence until the room was tidy.
‘Right, that’ll do,’ Ella said, wiping the desk around a large PC.
Jay stood, hands on hips, admiring the place. ‘It looks great, thank you.’
‘No problem,’ she said, throwing the cloth at the sink.
‘So,’ he said, his voice full of anticipation. ‘What’s the favour?’
She reached into her jeans and pulled out the flash drive. ‘This.’ She handed it to him. ‘I can’t get in.’
He turned it over in his hand. ‘OK.’ He sat down at the PC and inserted the stick. The same notification came up. He typed in password, which didn’t work. ‘Sorry, force of habit. You’ve got no idea what it could be?’
She looked over his shoulder at the screen. ‘No.’
He swivelled around in the chair to face her. ‘Can you tell me anything about who gave this to you?’
She grimaced. ‘Sorry, confidential.’
‘Then it’s going to have to be brute force.’
‘What?’ she replied with a furrowed brow. ‘You mean take it apart?’
Jay chuckled. ‘No, I mean I’ve got software that runs millions of combinations to hack in.’
‘Oh right,’ she replied, embarrassed that she wasn’t up on all the jargon. ‘How long would it take?’
He lifted his hands, palms up. ‘There’s no way of knowing, hours, days, sometimes even weeks. It might not work at all.’
Ella scratched her head.
‘But you’d have to let me try and download the folder.’
‘You mean let you copy it?’ Alarm bells began to ring.
‘Yes, or leave the stick here.’
She made a face. ‘I can’t do that.’
He looked down at his feet, then said, softly, ‘You can trust me, you know.’
She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I don’t doubt it, I just can’t.’
He didn’t look up. ‘I understand.’
‘Sorry.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ella was sitting under the atrium in the breakfast room, already tucking into a full English, when Lizzie arrived. ‘Steady on, Mum, cholesterol levels?’
‘I’m starving, it’s all this cycling.’ She pointed her fork at Lizzie. ‘That’s your fault. Anyway, it’s lovely that you wanted to join me.’
‘Well, to be honest Greg gave me a bit of a talking to.’
‘Really?’ Ella poured the coffee into Lizzie’s cup.
‘Yeah, about you defending Jay yesterday, taking this job to spend more time with me. He reckons I should cut you some slack.’
‘Well, that’s very nice of him,’ she replied, wondering if Lizzie would spot the irony.
‘He thinks you’re really cool.’
Ella could see the difference he was making. Lizzie’s cheeks had a dash of colour. ‘You like him a lot, don’t you?’
She gave her mum a coy smile. ‘So, do you still need to get hold of Jay?’
‘No, I had his address in the brief, I went round there.’ She craned her neck forward and said in a loud whisper, ‘Think I woke him up.’
‘Jesus, Mum,’ Lizzie replied, starting to giggle. ‘What was so urgent?’
‘Computer problem,’ she said, pushing a piece of fried egg onto her fork. ‘I’m under pressure of time.’ She put the food in her mouth.
‘Is there anything I can help with?’
Ella reached across the table and touched Lizzie’s hand. ‘Just you saying that means so much, darling.’
Lizzie’s gaze settled on Ella’s book. ‘On The Heavens? Aristotle?’
‘Yes, I’m trying to find out what this academic who went missing was working on, he’s a big fan apparently.’
Lizzie’s eyes seemed to sparkle. ‘Me too. Until I read about him, I just thought of him as a philosopher.’
‘Me too,’ said Ella. ‘I had no idea he was saying the earth was a sphere in 340 BC. I’d always thought that was Copernicus or Galileo.’
‘Mum, he was incredible,’ Lizzie gushed. ‘Physics, geography, astronomy, medicine. But you could say that his greatest achievement was as a teacher.’
‘How so?’ Ella asked, gripped by her daughter’s enthusiasm.
Lizzie held open her arms as if about to make a big reveal. ‘His pupil was Alexander the Great.’
‘I know.’
Lizzie leaned forward. ‘Arguably the greatest leader of all time.’ She lifted her arms. ‘Never lost a battle. He built the biggest empire the world has ever seen, out of nothing, all in a life that ended at thirty-two.’
Ella smiled. ‘Superhuman.’
‘Totally,’ she said waving an arm. ‘Whatever Aristotle taught him…’ She picked up the salt cellar and tapped it on the tablecloth. ‘It worked.’
Ella loved seeing her daughter so impassioned. ‘So, do you know who taught Aristotle?’
Lizzie gave a few blinks in quick succession. ‘Plato.’
Ella’s head tilted left. ‘Impressive.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘Well, I’m glad to see they’re teaching you something.’ She picked up the book and tossed it across the table. ‘If you want to help, read everything you can about the Ancient Greeks.’
‘No problem,’ Lizzie replied.
Ella was touched that she seemed so delighted to be involved. ‘And, if you’ve got time, Isaac Newton.’
‘Great,’ Lizzie was like a different person. ‘I’m on it.’ She put the book into her rucksack.
‘And Lizzie,’ Ella said, more seriously. ‘It’s for your ears only.’
Lizzie reciprocated with a sombre nod of the head. ‘Understood.’ She snatched a triangle of toast from the rack. ‘Got to go, Greg’s taking me out for the day.’
‘Don’t you want some butter on that?’
She was already getting up. ‘No time.’
‘Oh, and take this.’ Ella handed her a piece of paper.
Lizzie took it. ‘What is it?’
‘Jay’s details. He didn’t have anyone to celebrate with.’ She made a sad face.
‘Thanks,’ Lizzie replied, remaining straight-faced. ‘He’s a nice guy.’
Ella smiled at her daughter. ‘You’ve got good taste in friends.’
Lizzie folded up the paper and put it in her pocket.
Having second thoughts about the research, Ella added, ‘Don’t let the reading interfere with your studies.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ve pretty much broken up for Easter.’
‘Of course.’ Ella realised she had lost track of time.
‘I was thinking,’ Lizzie said, sounding self-conscious. ‘With you being here and everything, I might stay up over the holidays.’
‘That would be great.’ Ella’s mouth broke into a wide smile. ‘Nothing to do with a certain person called Greg?’
Lizzie threw her head back and chuckled.
Ella watched her bite into the toast, turn on her heels and leave. ‘Love you, Lizzie,’ she blurted.
Lizzie didn’t seem to hear.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The drive out to Thetford Forest was just what Lizzi
e needed. The rain had stopped and so had the squeaking wipers on the rusty Polo Greg had managed to borrow for the day. The seat trim was a pseudo tartan, punctuated with cigarette burns that had got bigger over time so that the foam underneath had been gouged out. She’d asked him whether he was insured to drive it and he’d answered with a wink. To her surprise, she hadn’t minded. Perhaps she was actually starting to loosen up. The thought made her smile. She leaned over and craned her neck so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek. Everything was well with the world.
Houses began to disappear as they approached the edge of the forest, the route now carving out a channel through the vast expanse of pine trees. The clouds moved off as if by magic, allowing the sun to splash the road with light. The breeze shook the last raindrops off the trees, sparkling in the light as they cascaded down.
Lizzie wound her window down a few inches, letting her hair fly around her head. She breathed in the overpowering smell of pine, infusing the moist air.
‘Did you know,’ said Greg, nodding to the view on either side. ‘None of these trees are indigenous. They were planted because they grow quickly.’
‘Really?’ Lizzie replied. ‘But there are forests like this all over the UK?’
‘Same reason,’ said Greg. ‘This is one of the biggest pine forests in the country. It was only planted after the First World War.’
Lizzie liked watching him talk. She put a hand against his cheek so she could feel his words.
He kissed her hand. ‘All the slow growing oaks were cut down in the war effort. Even conflict can bring new life.’ He stared ahead as if deep in contemplation.
They drove on in silence. Lizzie had never seen him so pensive. Maybe there was a deeper side to him, she thought. She closed the window. ‘Hello? Earth to Greg?’
Brought back from his reverie, he took his hand off the wheel and squeezed Lizzie’s knee, then tickled the skin visible through the designer hole in her jeans. ‘You ready for the surprise?’