by Adam Carter
“Not necessarily your home. You did tell me you were in this with a partner?”
And suddenly Jeremiah understood. He closed his eyes and shook his head at the fool he had been. “Julia,” he said with a nod and his servant lowered the gun. Lake turned to her and grunted something which was likely a threat but which Jeremiah could not deal with at that moment. Julia stared imperiously back, raising her chin to mimic Lake’s own earlier gesture. “If I should happen upon news of Richard Barrows, madam, I shall pass the information on, you have my word. But for now you shall have to excuse me, for I must dress.”
Lake sniffed and turned to depart. Jeremiah discarded his dressing-gown as soon as she was out of the room and Julia passed him his discarded clothes. He never gave any thought to being naked around Julia, and she had never herself shown any embarrassment. She never looked away, and never studied. She always regarded him as though he was in fact still wearing his clothes, and Jeremiah had always admired such sternness of character in her.
“You’ll be heading out, sir,” she said. It was not a question: she knew him too well.
“If Lake comes back, kill her before she kills you. I’ll try not to be too long.”
“Very good, sir.”
Jeremiah was out the house less than a minute thereafter.
CHAPTER EIGHT
He couldn’t stay angry at her, but then he hadn’t really been angry with her to begin with. Rachael had tried her best to help him, because he had asked her to, and just because her line of questioning had not turned out especially well, it did not necessarily make it her fault. Tamara Uddin was not an ordinary person, and Baronaire should have expected her to realise she was being questioned. He should never have involved Rachael in any of this, should have packed her things and sent her far away until it was all over. Instead he had thrown her in the deep end and practically held her head under the surface himself. The result was he had spent the last half hour trying to console her while she sat on the bed in tears. Baronaire had left her there, clutching a large brown bear he had bought her for her birthday, while he went to the kitchen to make some tea. He almost tripped over Blackie on the way, not having seen the shaggy black dog lounging in the corridor.
While he made the tea, Baronaire thought about everything they were intending to do. It was why they were here at all, yet something felt wrong about it. Baronaire didn’t want to kill Sanders, didn’t want to kill anyone. He had formed strong bonds with the staff at WetFish, there were some he even considered his friends. Would he really be able to kill them with his bare hands? Stockwell, with his stupid animal fascinations; Lin with her kind smiles of encouragement; Thompson especially he had grown fond of, with her frank attitude; hell, he’d even miss Foster if he was truthful.
The whistle of the kettle cut through his mental ramblings and he set about making Rachael her tea. As he took it back to her he was careful not to stumble over Blackie, but the dog had wandered off somewhere. When he entered the bedroom he found the dog snuggled up on the bed beside Rachael.
In the time he had been gone, Rachael had dried her eyes and had done her best to clean herself up a bit. Her eyes were still red, but he could see she wasn’t about to cry any more. He sat beside her on the bed, brushing the dog aside, and handed over her tea.
“I don’t want you to do this,” she said in a small, shaky voice. She held the steaming cup in both hands because her body was trembling. She could not even look at him and he knew what was coming. “I don’t want you to murder anyone, Charles. I know it’s your job to do that, but this is different. This is killing police officers, people you work with. People you know. They’re your friends, Charles; I don’t care what Jeremiah tells you, these people are your friends.”
“They’re a means to an end, Rach,” he said flatly, trying not to think about it any more than he absolutely had to. He had an image of Thompson in his head he could not shake. Thompson did not care what people thought about her, and her confidence was electrifying. Many were the times when Baronaire had himself felt like giving up on something, but Thompson had been there to spur him on. He couldn’t kill her, he just knew he would not be able to do it. Which meant he would leave her for Jeremiah.
But could he even do that? The very thought of Jeremiah killing Thompson was bad enough, but Jeremiah would violate her first, in every way his kind knew how. It wasn’t a process Baronaire could explain in ordinary human terms, but what Jeremiah would do to those people before he killed them was something which sent a shudder through even Baronaire’s stoic frame.
“You can’t do this,” Rachael said, looking at him at last. Her eyes were tear-free, but they were shaking and pleading and very much afraid. “The man I love would not be able to do this, and I can’t believe you’ve changed that much. You were angry when you agreed to this, you were ... I don’t know what you were. But you agreed on the spur of the moment, and that means you’re not bound to it. Sure, don’t tell Sanders because he’d only kill you if he thought you’d even contemplated it; but you don’t have to go through with it. How’s he going to find out otherwise? I’ll square it with Tammy, I promise I can do that. Just please don’t do this, Charles. For me, don’t do it.”
And if Baronaire had any further doubts they melted in that very moment. Gazing into her loving eyes, afraid for him more than anyone else, Baronaire understood that Rachael Webster knew him far better than he knew himself. She fully understood his capabilities, and his limitations.
“You’re right,” he said without a sigh. “You’re always right, Rach. That’s why I love you.”
“You mean you ...?”
He smiled and took her chin with two fingers. “I’m going to tell Jeremiah I’m out. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been at WetFish for a long time now, but I can’t betray them, not this far. Maybe it would be best for Sanders to die before he turns on me, but who says he’s going to? He hasn’t so far, so unless he has some specific reason for waiting this long, maybe he won’t ever try to kill me.”
Rachael threw her arms about his throat and kissed him. He sank into her embrace, unaware until that very moment just how tense he had become over the entire situation. But it was over now, and he no longer had to worry about anything.
On the bed, Blackie growled softly.
Baronaire tore away from the woman he loved as he sensed a presence in the flat. He was on his feet just as a pale mist tore through the cracks under and around the door like a flood breaking its dam. The particles coalesced in the air swiftly and formed someone who thankfully was not Dalton.
“Charles!”
“Jeremiah,” Baronaire said, startled. He did not have time to react much further before a deep growl came from Blackie. Baronaire looked over his shoulder, but Blackie was no longer on the bed. Where the dog had once been, a dark-haired woman stood scowling, her expression cold enough to freeze blood.
Baronaire grabbed Rachael and pushed her behind him, between him and the monstrous woman. “Dalton,” Baronaire said. “If you’ve been Blackie the whole time, you got some serious stalker issues.”
“Blackie?” Rachael asked, confused. Her heart was racing and Baronaire gave Jeremiah a sharp look as he started eyeing her up. “Your dog was Dalton?”
“My dog? I thought it was your dog.”
“Dalton!” Jeremiah beamed. “My God, it’s taken a while to find you.” Baronaire did not understand the man’s exuberance, although he supposed they had been looking for her for a while now. Still, Baronaire was too annoyed at her invasion of his privacy to think much of anything else.
“Looks like you weren’t the people I had hoped,” Dalton said, her voice ice. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this, and it turns out you’re two bleeding hearts after all.”
“What?” Jeremiah asked and Baronaire set his jaw firm at his friend’s confusion. Jeremiah was looking from one to the other, ignoring Rachael entirely, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.
“I’m out,
Jeremiah,” Baronaire told him, his arm holding Rachael protectively. He did not know until he had spoken the words just how relieved he was going to feel, but to be able to at last admit the truth to Jeremiah, to Rachael and to himself ... Baronaire felt happier than he had in a long time.
“What?” Jeremiah repeated, and Baronaire could see anger boiling within him. “But this is what we’ve been building towards for years. What, you want to just carry on working for Sanders? After what he did to you?”
“You don’t get to play the emotional blackmail card with me, Jeremiah. I’m not sure I much care what Sanders did or didn’t do in his past. And if I’m willing to let it go, maybe you should too.”
“Sanders wants us dead, you fool.”
“No,” Baronaire barked, and he could feel Rachael tense beneath his arm. “Sanders doesn’t care one way or the other about us. We’re too useful to him; he wouldn’t dare get rid of us.”
“He doesn’t care about us at all. He wants Richard and as soon as he finds him he’ll set us against him.”
Baronaire stared at Jeremiah blankly. “Richard? Sanders is looking for Richard Barrows?”
Jeremiah looked away and Baronaire could see the man was all but falling apart, telling everyone far too much about everything. Baronaire thought through what he was being told, and had to admit it made a certain kind of sense. If Barrows was alive, Sanders would need someone to fight him, and together Baronaire and Jeremiah would be able to overpower him. Perhaps that was indeed what Sanders was waiting for, but Baronaire was willing to take that chance.
“I have a life now, Jeremiah,” he said softly, although he knew it was probably in vain to appeal to the man’s better nature. There was goodness in Jeremiah – Baronaire had seen it before – but there was also anger and passion. And it was never the goodness which won out in the end. “I’m not going to risk everything just to murder a man, Jeremiah.”
“Then you’ll die.” He cast a disdainful glower upon Rachael. “You and your woman.”
“Perhaps. But at least I’ll die a man.”
The two men stood staring at one another for several moments. Neither woman spoke. Finally it was Jeremiah who broke eye contact. “You do whatever you want, but I’m through with WetFish, I’m through with Sanders. And if you let me walk out of this room I’m through with you too, Charles.”
“God, you make it sound as though we’re a couple, Jeremiah. Fact is I got over my aggression. I fell in love. You should try it sometime.”
Jeremiah snorted and turned back to the bed, but Dalton was gone. Without a word Jeremiah stormed out of the room and vanished in silence.
Baronaire stood there holding Rachael for several long minutes. The only sound his exceptional hearing was picking up was her frantic heartbeat as it slowly returned to normal in his embrace, the only scent the sweat of her fear, the only touch her perfect skin beneath his fingers.
“Is it over?” she whispered. “Has Dalton really gone, Charles?”
“I think so. We should go to Sanders with this.” His voice was quiet, distant, for he had no desire to speak the words. “I should warn him about Dalton. He might be able to offer us some protection.”
“Does Sanders even know about us?”
“I don’t know. But I trust Sanders a whole lot more than I trust Dalton right now.”
“And Jeremiah?”
Baronaire found it difficult to answer that. Emotion choked his throat. He had known Jeremiah for so long that it would seem strange not having him about the bunker. Stranger still if Sanders sent a team out to deal with him. He had debated so much whether he would be able to kill Thompson and the others, but had spared no thought whether he would be able to kill Jeremiah.
“You’re all that matters to me now, Rach,” he said, stroking her hair where she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect you.”
“Then talk to Sanders, Charles.”
“I’ll see him first thing in the morning. Dalton won’t try anything against us in the daylight.”
Rachael did not answer, and slowly he could feel the tremble of her small body begin to abate. He had a whole night to spend thinking about how he was going to betray Jeremiah, the man who had saved his life all those years ago. The man who had taught him everything he knew. The man who was like a brother to him. But he would do it for Rachael; he would do anything for Rachael.
Tomorrow he would talk to Sanders.
CHAPTER NINE
The doorbell sounded, soft and urgent, and Tamara Uddin figured it was the postman. Throwing on a pair of trousers and a T-shirt she hurried to the door, but her face fell at the sight before her. Rachael Webster stood on her porch, her eyes averted, her hands held clenched by her sides. She was trembling, afraid, and their terrible conversation of earlier was all but forgotten as Tamara placed an arm about her shoulders and drew her into her flat. “What’s the matter? What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” a deep male voice said, and Tamara started, not having noticed Baronaire standing there. Instantly Tamara knew whatever was wrong with Rachael it had to be Baronaire’s fault and she screwed up her face, ready to lay into him, but noticed the pensive fear to his eyes and suddenly realised there was more to this than she knew.
“You’d best come in,” she said.
“No,” Baronaire said. “I have to see Sanders. Miss Uddin, would you look after Rachael for me please?”
“Look after her? Baronaire, what’s happened?”
“Someone may be after her. Probably not today, but they might be. And this is the safest place for her.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because no one would dare mess with you, Miss Uddin. Sanders would have their heads.”
Tamara knew he was speaking the truth, even though she had never herself understood why Sanders protected her so vehemently. Looking at this man before her, however, she had the distinct impression he knew precisely why that was. He did not offer the information, however, so she did not ask. “How long?” she said instead.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Assuming Sanders doesn’t kill me, but I’m banking against that.”
He left without another word and Tamara sat Rachael down. She had never seen the poor girl so afraid, although knew questioning her would not glean any results. She fetched a dressing-gown to try to warm her and brought her a steaming mug of tea. She sat beside her guest and placed a gentle hand upon her back. Whatever their heated conversation had been about yesterday, it no longer mattered. Rachael had a problem and Tamara had to be there for her, just like she was there for all of her girls. Just like Sanders was there for her.
“It’ll be OK,” she told Rachael kindly. “Sanders will sort this out. Everything will be fine, I promise.”
Sanders would sort it out for them all.
*
He arrived at the bunker still uncertain as to what precisely he was going to say, but as Baronaire parked his car and took a stroll into the office, he had pretty much worked through everything in his mind. He stopped as he reached the first bank of desks and stared hard at the large office with the transparent walls. He could see Sanders going through some paperwork. Taking a deep breath, Baronaire started across the bunker.
“Baronaire!”
He stopped as Lin walked slowly up to him, carrying some of her own files. “Detective,” he said crisply by way of greeting. “What kind of mood’s he in today?”
“Joy to the world, Baronaire. Something on your mind? You look a little pale.”
He continued to stare at the office. “What would you do for love, Lin?”
“Big question for such an early hour.”
“Who would you betray for the woman you love?”
“You might be better off asking Jen that one.”
He looked at her then and her smile faded when she saw how serious he was.
She looked away. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love, Charles. Never had much time for
it. But I guess I’d betray anyone.” She met his gaze once more. “Why?”
“Because I’ve just lost the oldest friend I ever ...”
“Charles!” An exuberant, jolly Jeremiah slapped him soundly on the back. “Good to see you, old man.”
Baronaire blinked. “Jeremiah? But I thought ...?”
“You were right, Charles. About what you said last night. I was blinded, and ... well, if you can let it go, what right do I have to stay angry, right?” He grinned. “Besides, she’s gone now and who knows where she is?”
“So you’ve given up your ... pursuits?” He was well aware Lin was still watching them both.
“Absolutely,” Jeremiah said. “Life’s too short to live it filled with hate, my man. Anyway, I have a new case, so I’ll catch you later.”
Baronaire must have been staring with mouth agape, because the next thing he knew Lin was pushing his jaw closed with her fingers. “You all right?” she asked. “I mean, really?”
Baronaire realised Rachael was no longer in danger, that he did not have to betray WetFish, and that Jeremiah would not have to be hunted down and killed after all. “Yeah,” he laughed aloud. “Yeah, Sue. I don’t think I’ve ever been better.”
*
Seated at his desk, Jeremiah watched Baronaire out the corner of his eye. The man was happier than he had ever seen him, seemed almost to want to dance with Detective Lin. Jeremiah watched as he left the bunker, reaching into his inside pocket to locate his phone. Clearly he was calling Rachael at once with the good news. Jeremiah was playing along, he would say. Jeremiah was a good guy after all. A bally chum to everyone.
Four hours ago Jeremiah had been sitting at home, breaking furniture and on the verge of going out to find himself some fresh blood to sate his frustration.
And then a voice had shocked and calmed him in one single moment. Josephine Dalton was in his library, waiting for him. “Yes,” she had said, “Baronaire is a liability, but so long as he doesn’t discover our union he shan’t be a problem we need to remove.”