by G I Tulloch
Adam sank to the floor and his gun dropped onto the wooden boards. Moments later he went downstairs and cut Bel down. He cradled her gently in his arms and they sank into the largest armchair.
"Is it over?" she murmured.
"Yes, it's over," he replied.
And that's how DCI Ford found them when he arrived ten minutes later.
Chapter 44
Life in the office appeared to have returned to normal, whatever that meant. Gerry, far from suffering from his ordeal, seemed to have been energised by it.
"You realise now that you owe me one enormous favour," he revealed, sitting opposite Adam in the guest chair. Adam appeared not to notice, you can do that when you're the boss and get away with it, or so he thought.
Gerry frowned. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" enquired Adam coming back into the present.
"That thing you do. That reverie thing where your body's present but the rest of you is off sunning itself on a beach or something."
Adam smiled and took his feet off the desk. "It's called meditation Gerry, outside your sphere I'm afraid."
"Nuts," concluded Gerry. "People don't meditate in the middle of a conversation."
"It takes practise I admit," conceded Adam, "but I like to think I'm at least a brown belt. What happened in regard to our friend the elephant?"
"All seems resolved," declared Gerry. "The zoo appear satisfied that the animals suffered no long term ill effects, and they report an increase in visitors since the video appeared on the web. It's still going the rounds of office e-mails apparently by the way, only just dropped to number two in the charts."
"And our friend Stan?"
"Appears happy that the publicity was achieved one way or another. The cosmetic range seems to have taken off satisfactorily, but he's still looking for a partial refund on the shoot."
"Let him look."
Gerry looked at Adam a little more closely and his voice took on a serious note, something that always tended to unnerve Adam.
"How are you after recent events?"
Adam steepled his fingers, that well worn, stalling for time but looking thoughtful pose. "I'm fine. Finding it slightly difficult to concentrate on business but otherwise back to normal."
Gerry thought the distracted demeanour said otherwise but held his peace.
"Well I have work to do, people to see, bookies to pay etcetera, etcetera," he declared, and getting out of the chair grabbed his coat and left the office in one smooth action.
Clare yelled "Bye" to the disappearing back as Adam came out into the main office. She was in lilac, a trouser suit designed for the elegant. It didn't do anything for her.
Adam punched the familiar sequence of buttons on the coffee machine but it steadfastly refused to dish out anything.
"You have to hit it twice, front bottom left," announced Clare.
Adam glanced in her direction but unquestioningly followed instructions. Coffee was duly dispensed.
"That's changed recently," he said.
"It's not the only thing," replied Clare mysteriously.
"Meaning what?" asked Adam.
"You. 'Back to normal'?" she shook her head. "You've changed."
"You shouldn't listen in to other people's conversations, it's rude," he accused.
He took a sip of coffee and burnt his lip. Stalling was becoming an art form. He feigned disinterest but curiosity very quickly got the better of him.
"So, you think I've changed, what, in the past three weeks?"
"Definitely," she declared.
Adam perched on the edge of her desk. "I'm intrigued, go on."
Clare ignored him, jotted some notes on a piece of paper, stapled two more together and filed them carefully in the third drawer down in the filing cabinet behind her. Two could play at the stalling game.
Eventually she sat back down and after a slight hesitation picked up a pencil and waved it at him, as if to add weight to her words.
"Before this, you didn't seem to care too much about anything at all. You went through life on auto pilot," she pronounced. "You'd been like it since Fran died. Passion had gone, you didn't invest in life, you just trod water. If you hadn't, you and Bel would have been an item long ago."
Her last statement took him by surprise and he laughed involuntarily.
"See," said Clare pointing at him. "QED. You wouldn't have done that four weeks ago."
Adam didn't comment so she continued. "How is Bel?"
"I spoke to her the day before yesterday." Replied Adam. "She seemed well, recovered, bouncy even, enjoying her convalescence apparently."
"That's good. It's been three weeks, you'd expect it." She didn't ask the question they had been avoiding all week. "Go and see her."
"They said recovery would be quicker if she didn't have reminders around."
Clare wielded the pencil again. "Go and see her."
"Maybe."
At that point the outer door opened without warning and Adam was on his feet fast enough to frighten Clare. Maybe his nerves were still slightly taut.
DCI Ford stood in the doorway, and then eyed the coffee machine. Adam raised an eyebrow.
"Clare, can you give Detective Chief Inspector Ford instructions on how to use the coffee machine." Adam walked over to his own office where Ford joined him shortly, Clare having taken pity on him and poured him a coffee herself.
The two of them had had several debriefs since the night that Anna Low died and had come to a level of agreement on how to keep Adam's name out of the affair.
Ford took a swig of his drink and scowled. "Decaff."
"The healthy option, Inspector."
"Never saw the point of it myself."
Adam smiled despite himself. "What can I do for you today?" he asked.
Ford hesitated. "You should have told me what you were up to, you and your friends."
"Ah." said Adam.
"Ah indeed," declared Ford with an injured expression. "Interpol have been talking to us and it appears you are not quite what you seem. Something to do with NATO Intelligence or suchlike."
"Sorry, need to know basis." He endeavoured to change the subject. "How are you getting on with Brad, or should I call him Greg?"
"He appears to have accepted his fate and is co-operating nicely. We can roll up a few villains connected with the arms business. He'll go down for aiding and abetting on the smuggling, and GBH with intent and we'll make sure he ends up in the US."
"Travis recovered then?"
"Not quite recovered. He may never work again but I understand that he's being taken care of."
"We'll go and see him soon, it's the least we can do."
Ford didn't seem to tie that quite together but obviously decided to let it go anyway.
"Tell me," he said. "It's been bothering me. How did you manage to be caught up in so many tangled situations?"
Adam grinned. "Beats me. But the only thing that should worry you, is if they discover that you released a prime murder suspect on the word of a serial killer and disgraced CIA agent."
Ford took a moment before it twigged but it brought a smile to his face and they shook hands before he left.
Clare came through from the office with his mobile and handed it to him. He checked the display and took a deep breath.
A female foreign voice merely said. "Crypto 5927+2".
He pulled another phone from his desk drawer, a secure phone scrambled using crypto keys.
He dialled in the numbers and the call reconnected to another line at the other end.
"Erikson?" he asked.
"Most people call me sir," came the dry reply.
"How are things, sir?" Adam complied, emphasising the final word.
"Could be better, could be a lot worse. With the information we got from Lake we managed to roll up most of the arms route before they could close it down. An eastern bloc country hoping to join the EU has some explaining to do."
"How's Mitch?"
"Lieutenant-Colonel Mitchell is well on the road to recovery and should be back in circulation within the month. I understand your friend Miss Trent is making good progress."
Adam frowned slightly. "I believe so but.."
Erikson cut him off. "On the subject of our friend O'Rourke. Against my better judgement it's been decided that he is too instrumental to the Irish peace process to be implicated in anything at this stage."
There was a pause. "So we're going to let him off?" accused Adam.
"That's not what I said Adam. The politicians have decided it's too dangerous." There was a silent pause before Erikson continued. "Adam, if you hold the phone any tighter you will crush it. It is expensive military property and you don't want to have to replace it."
Adam looked down and realised that in his controlled anger and frustration the phone was indeed at risk.
"It's not right. He's extremely dangerous."
"People that matter are well aware of O'Rourke's methods. I didn't promise justice but let's face it, if everything operated in a totally just manner we'd all..., what's the phrase you use. We'd all be in the soup."
"Yes sir."
"I'm sorry that you can't make any publicity out of this but I hope the business prospers. And give my best to Miss Trent."
"Thank you," replied Adam a little tight lipped, and they hung up.
Adam looked at the far wall of his office where a publicity poster for a previous general election implored him to 'Come Down off the Wall', and he made a decision.
He always considered the estate to be looking at its best at this time of year. The old oaks were in full leaf, spread across the rolling grassland like sleeping sentinels, the hedgerows were full of birds getting in a second brood of the year, grass was a luxuriant deep pile carpet. Despite his misgivings about the place he knew he had a love for it that went deeper than his childhood memories. He descended from the steps and turned down the track between copses of beech and yew, deep in the heart of the estate. The shade gave a welcome relief from the sun on one of those freak days of early summer when the temperature climbed close to thirty degrees. His shirt stuck to his back and he was doing no more than a leisurely stroll.
At the house they had said she would be down here by the river close to the swimming hole where he had spent so much time as a kid. It had been his parents' idea that Bel convalesced in the privacy and seclusion of the estate and she had seemed happy to agree to the plan. After a short stay in hospital to dress her many wounds, she had moved out here to be cosseted and pampered.
He hadn't seen her since he had left her in hospital. Medical opinion seemed to feel that isolation from anything connected with the stress of her ordeal was a good idea in the long run and he had acquiesced, despite the longing to be near her. They had spoken occasionally on the phone but only briefly and trivially.
Clare had been right, though he wouldn't have admitted it to her. Despite the trauma of the weeks before he felt that something had been washed away. Perhaps justice had been done for Fran and the past could be put to bed. He couldn't help thinking that there was more to it than that but putting his finger on it was proving a lot more elusive.
He finally turned the corner at the far end of the copse, the ground opened up and fell away towards the river that meandered through the meadows as if searching for a way out of the vast estates. By an enormous oak tree the river spread out into a large deep pool as it turned a bend. On the far side of the river swathes of tall rushes gave privacy to the perfect swimming hole.
He stopped, and shielding his eyes from the sun spotted Bel in the water, swimming, only her head visible. Something in him smiled and he started down the hill through the grass towards the river. He was within a hundred yards before she spotted him, turning to come back across the pool. She stood up and revealed the water to be only waist deep, waving her arms above her head in greeting. He stopped, realising that she only had a tee shirt on, and that wet, revealing everything and leaving little to the imagination.
As he approached the bank she called out. "Get your clothes off and come in, the water's lovely." She laughed, an infectious laugh that bode well for her recovery.
He stripped down to his boxer shorts and waded into the water, unable to keep his eyes off her.
"You're staring," she accused him.
He smiled at the recall of a previous occasion. "Not staring, gazing, admiring." The smile was returned.
"It's so good to see you," she said holding out both hands. She noticed some reluctance. "It's all right. I'm fine, recovered. Your parents make excellent therapists, even if they do play Scrabble far too competitively."
That made Adam laugh and released any final awkwardness.
"And you're healed?" he asked.
She bit her lip briefly and then pulled the wet tee-shirt off over her head. "The doctors did a damn good job don't you think."
He gazed at her now naked body, perfectly healed with no scarring whatsoever.
She noticed his dilemma. "The last time you saw me naked I was covered in blood as well, and you were still willing to hug me even then," she mocked.
He smiled.
"What's funny?" she demanded.
"Brighton beach," he replied.
Her frown gave way to comprehension and stepping up to him she reached down into the water and removed his shorts.
"Dipping is always best done skinny," she declared.
She pulled him to her as their lips met.
Briefly when they came up for air she said emphatically, "and this is no mistake".
They only just managed to climb out onto the bank before control went out the window.
They dried off lying out on the grass in the hot sunshine.
"I was convinced that you didn't like me," insisted Adam, "You always stayed at a distance, never made any attempt to become friends."
Bel turned to look at him. "You are a blind fool Adam Lennox. I fell for you the first time we were introduced but you were head over heels in love with Fran, and I backed off to protect myself from being hurt. I thought you disliked me for competing for Fran's attention."
"Pratt," announced Adam.
"Pillock," agreed Bel.
There was a brief pause, which threatened to allow them to doze off.
She poked him. "Adam?"
"What?"
"Did you deliberately not warn Anna about the railings?"
"I don't know. I don't think I'll ever know," he replied sleepily and they both dozed off.
The sun was going down when they woke up and Bel sat up in deliberate fashion.
"Adam, I have a confession to make," she declared.
"I don't understand, confess to what," yawned Adam.
"I know all about you and Fran."
That made him sit up, and she continued as if in a hurry to unburden herself with confession.
"I know you and Fran were not actually married. I know why Fran got the job at Bartletts in the first place. I know everything.." She hesitated in order to watch his face. ".. because I was Fran's Desk Officer at NATO Military Intelligence."
"Oh," said Adam, and everything fell into place.
"I know that Fran was a field agent investigating the arms smuggling when she recruited you, and that the two of you were set up as a couple to go undercover."
She took a long breath to recover.
Adam gazed at the sky and focussed on nothing. There was a long moment's silence. "I loved her you know."
"I know."
"It wasn't her fault, it wasn't part of the plan, it just happened."
He turned to Bel. "What you probably don't know is that she reciprocated. We did actually get married, but we didn't let anyone know because it would have blown everything."
"Adam?"
"Yes?"
"You need to move on."
"Isn't this where we came in?" asked Adam.
"Sort of." She continued in matter-of-fact tone. "I am moving on. I'm going back to commercial flying. I've b
een mulling it over and I've been offered a job with a taxi firm flying businessmen into Europe."
There was a short pause before Adam replied without looking at her. "The flat is very handy for London City Airport."
She squinted against the sun and smiled. "Shit. I hadn't thought of that. It is, isn't it?"
On the way back to the house Adam stopped and looked out over the rolling fields, over the trees turning golden in the dying light. He thought about the future and what had passed, about responsibility and justice. Eventually he took out his phone and dialled from memory. A voice answered but Adam cut it off. "You know who this is. I have the package. I'm going to use it." He hung up, and put away the phone.
They walked slowly in a comfortable silence, slowly back across the fields, taking their time as if the minutes were especially valuable. The dying sunshine brought an orange glow to the sky, the fields and the trees. They stopped and looked out across the lake at the house standing imposingly over its surroundings.
"It is beautiful you know," insisted Bel.
Adam sighed heavily. "Anyone for Scrabble?"
Epilogue
To some it might seem sacrilegious to answer a mobile phone in a graveyard but Adam did it anyway.
"What can't wait, Gerry?"
Gerry's voice was animated, as it was when he'd had a significant win. "It's just been on the news. I thought you'd want to know."
Adam sighed. "Know what, Gerry?"
"Dermot O'Rourke's car was found burnt out in a quiet lane in the New Forest this morning. There's reports of a body being found, but there are also rumours that he's flown the country, some scandal or other."
Adam looked out across the gravestones, the neatly tended grass verges, the occasional vase of fresh or wilting flowers and lifted his eyes briefly to the horizon. "Thanks for letting me know, Gerry," he replied and hung up. Responsibility and justice, where does it all end?
He turned to the gravestone next to him. The simple design bearing the inscription 'FRAN LENNOX, BELOVED WIFE OF ADAM, 'IT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE THIS WAY' '.