The Mission

by Naomi Kryske

  “I understand.”

  “Focus, Jenny,” he said gently, “and repeat the exercise.” He nodded when she finished each phrase. “Think of a time when you felt strong, and then say it.” He waited.

  “I can’t think of one,” she said after a few minutes. “You graduated from uni.”

  “That doesn’t seem significant now.”

  “You married.”

  “I felt happy then, but it was taken away. I think I’m only strong when I’m with other people. Like you.”

  “Then say it with a bit of anger. Next week we’ll work on the tangibles.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Sunday. No prison visit today; visits had to be scheduled ahead of time, and Alcina had forgot to do it. The bakery was closed, but she had gone to Hampstead anyway. Usually she arrived in the half light of dawn and wore colours that blended with the shadows that still remained from the night. Her anger burnt brightly, but nothing else about her could be allowed to shine.

  Hoping to catch a glimpse of her target, however, she had made the trip in the daylight. She had spent hours watching her target’s flat, from one vantage point and then from another, but her target had not appeared. A wasted trip. She had wanted to see her target’s face, see lines of tension there in addition to the scar. The scar didn’t detract enough from her appearance; it was too easy for her to hide by tilting her head and letting her hair swing forward. How satisfying it would be to give her some wounds that were more difficult to conceal. And at the end, wounds that would never heal.

  Until then, caution was the order she intended to follow. She was unused to weapons. She had had to train herself. It had taken time for her to learn to hold the knife like an attacker, to grip it tightly, to take decisive strokes. It had been difficult at first to control her breathing, to keep her approaches silent. She had closed her shades and practiced in her flat, pacing back and forth with the knife in her hand, stopping suddenly to slash things. Pillows had been too soft, books too hard. It hadn’t taken her long to talk herself into using Tony’s stuffed armchair as a target, because he had deserted her, betrayed her trust. She pinned snaps of her target to the chair and refined her aim. Newspapers had some substance to them also. Like human flesh.

  CHAPTER 25

  Jenny didn’t see Simon until Friday evening. “I’m happy to see you, even if you do look like last week’s news,” she said.

  He held her briefly. “Our spare week, and we were just as busy as we are on our regular ops weeks.”

  She had expected a greater show of affection and now wasn’t sure what to think. “Have you eaten?”

  “Fish and chips on the way here,” he said, “but I’d like a cup of tea. Then we’ll start work.” He’d spent his down time during the week trying to think like her stalker, asking himself how he would attack her. He had concluded that his first step would be to waste the dog. As long as Bear was with her, she had a line of defence, but he would have felt better if she had a police dog, capable of responding to commands at a moment’s notice. And she could not seek cover or conceal herself while walking him.

  “Every man has vulnerable points,” he began, having downed his tea in three swallows. “His eyes, his bollocks, and his knees. Your goal is to deflect an assault by striking hard and fast, to give yourself time to get away.”

  His gravity was sobering. After a week apart, she needed to reconnect with him. He had given her only a perfunctory kiss when he arrived.

  “Hampstead streets aren’t usually deserted, and you’ll have Bear – ” or so he hoped – “but I’d rather you be overprepared than underprepared.”

  “Bear’s been weird. He barks more than usual, and when we go out, he growls and sniffs all around the porch.”

  “He’s picked up your stalker’s scent.” He had her stand in front of him, while he pantomimed both frontal and rear attacks in slow motion, guiding her responses. “Watch my hands, Jenny. Are they high or low? Which one do you need to block?” He nodded. “Well done. Let’s try it again.” He stopped. “I know you’re right-handed, but you need to use both hands. Got it? Tomorrow we’re going to speed everything up.”

  “Simon,” she said in desperation, “could you stop and hug me for a minute? To remind me that we care about each other?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m still in team leader mode.”

  She walked into his open arms and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek and his mouth. The firmness of his embrace was reassuring.

  When she stepped back, he began again, narrating each move and gradually increasing his aggressiveness.

  “Whoa!” she exclaimed. “You scared me that time.”

  “Training only works if it’s taken seriously,” he said. “You need to be able to react even if you’re frightened.”

  “What’s that?” she asked, hearing a repeated beep.

  “My pager.” He stepped aside and made a brief call. “Just an update,” he reported. “Where were we?”

  “Finished with the physical drills,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  “What’s your mindset then?”

  Relieved, she repeated the “I can” phrases he had taught her the weekend before, first in English, then in Italian, watching his eyebrows rise. “Sono vigile. Sono pronta. So che posso vincere. Posso vincere della circostanza, contro dell’opposizione. Posso sopravvivere. Ho sopravvissuto già, e sopravvivrò un’altra volta.” She paused, waiting for his response. “My grammar’s probably wrong.”

  “Che sorpresa,” he said after a moment. “Are you taking a class?”

  “No, just seeing how much I can learn on my own.”

  “There’s my girl,” he said and kissed her. “Brava.” Their other activities over the weekend paled next to Simon’s focus on teaching her to defend herself. On Saturday the drills were longer and his moves more sudden. “Your resistance needs to be stronger and faster,” he scolded. “Don’t worry about hurting me.”

  On Sunday they shopped for groceries, and he quizzed her as they wove their way through the streets. “The person who just passed us by: Was it a man or a woman? Approximate age? Hair colour? Can you describe what he was wearing? Who is behind us?”

  His questions unsettled her, and she lost her balance and stumbled while trying to watch everyone around her. When they returned to the flat, he led her in yet another round of exercises, insisting that her week without incident was no reason for her to let her guard down. “Keep exercising. Try to walk a bit farther or faster. Being physically fit will give you an edge. Complacency is your enemy.”

  He ignored her pale face and continued. “If an attack comes – ” For her benefit, he forced himself to say “if” although the stalker’s use of the knife had, in his mind, changed the equation to “when” – “you’ll have little or no warning. You’ll be frightened, possibly confused. Remember to breathe to calm yourself, in through your nose and out through your mouth, deep, regular breaths. Slowing your breathing will slow your heart rate, lower your blood pressure, and correspondingly, slow any bleeding. Get in the habit of taking water with you when you go out. Drinking it after an incident will help your body rid itself of stress.”

  “Then I need some water now!” she said. “You’ve been Drill Sergeant Casey all weekend. I never got to spend any time with relaxed, funny, sexy Simon, and I miss him!”

  He realised suddenly that he had focused on the threat and neglected the woman. He put his arms around her and held her.

  His embrace was a little too tight, and she knew he was afraid for her, even if he didn’t say so. Her own fear grew, and she squeezed him back. “I wish you could be here all the time! Since you aren’t, I wish I were fearless, like you.”

  “I’m glad you’re not. Don’t want you reckless. If you’re a bit wary, you’ll be a good deal safer.” He loosened his grip slightly. “Jenny, dealing with a threat isn’t always about superior power. It’s about being smarter. I’d not like you to go out after dark,” he added.
“Even with Bear. Promise.”

  “Simon, I promise, but – next weekend – can we find time for something besides self-defense? Anything.”

  “Promise.”

  She smiled. “We’re making promises to each other. I like that.”

  He liked it also, very much.

  CHAPTER 26

  Best leave he’d had in a long time. Three times the dreaded pager had called Simon back to duty, but the rest of the time he’d spent with Jenny. He had taken her flowers Friday night; hadn’t even mentioned self-defence until Saturday. He’d gone through the drills with her daily, remembering to reassure her after each session. He couldn’t press her as hard as he did his team, and at the end of the day he feared the drills were too little, too late. She hadn’t sufficient reps, and she hadn’t responded well to his unexpected moves. She needed to practise when she was tired and when distractions disrupted her concentration. He rather doubted that she’d react quickly enough when the time came. Her attacker would be taller, stronger. Her only edge – if it could even be considered one – was her desire to live.

  He led a team of capable, professional men. They were all trained to take control quickly in any situation, for their own safety and the safety of those they encountered. In his personal life, however, he could not assert himself in the same manner. He couldn’t mandate Jenny’s love, he had to win it, in a hearts-and-minds op of the most delicate sort. And as in any hearts-and-minds action, what one did was more important than what one said. In any case he planned to proceed with some caution, not wanting to cause her to say no.

  He noted some signs of progress. She was more affectionate and more responsive to his advances, particularly after their picnic with Davies and his family. She had been surprised by how comfortable he was with Davies’ daughter, Meg, and how much Meg liked him. “I looked after my brother,” he had told her. “As you did with yours.”

  They had lunched on the cold cuts and rolls that Jenny brought, with croissants from the bakery in Hampstead for the adults and decorated cookies for Meg. Then he and Jenny had taken Meg to the slide to give Davies and Beth a bit of time on their own.

  On their way home after, Jenny had surprised him with her sombre mood. First she’d told him she was writing a book about grief. A workbook, she called it, because healing was hard work. He hadn’t known what to say but hoped it would be healing for her. Then she mentioned children. “I couldn’t conceive with Colin. If you want a family, I’m the wrong girl for you.” He had tried to buoy her up, telling her he was certain she was the right girl and that he had his own shortcomings. It was a package deal for both of them.

  On Thursday morning they went downstairs, intending to take Bear for a walk, when he heard her cry out. Someone had pushed a snap of her through the letter box, a distance shot with her torso slashed, and she was shaken. He took her by the shoulders and at his urging, she repeated what she called her mantra: “I’m alert. I’m ready. I know I can win. I can win in any circumstance, over any opposition. I can survive. I did before, and I can do it again.” He was proud of her.

  The receipt of the photo, however, necessitated a call to the detectives. She introduced him when they arrived. “Simon was one of my protection officers.”

  “Where’s your nick now?” the DS inquired.

  “Leman Street,” he answered, wanting the detective to get the message. Jenny had told him how they had treated her.

  “Did you handle the photograph?” the younger one asked.

  They both nodded.

  “In the event that there is another, I must request that you touch the edges only,” DS Wyrick commented. They concluded from the clothes Jenny was wearing that the picture had been taken some time ago, while the weather was still cold. They questioned her, somewhat gently, about her contacts with men since Sinclair’s death.

  “None,” she said, raising her chin.

  Simon was glad to see her sign of defiance, however slight.

  Wyrick rephrased. “Do you have any casual male acquaintances who may have misread your friendly nature?”

  “I’m not friendly with strangers,” she answered. “But there was a man recently who made me feel very uncomfortable.”

  “And that would be – ?”

  Wyrick had asked the question, but Simon wanted to know also.

  “Dr. Millar, David Millar. The coroner at Colin’s inquest. I agreed to help him with some paperwork afterward. When I finished, he took me to dinner and played on my sympathy. He said his wife had been missing for years. He implied that he was lonely.”

  All three men waited for her to continue.

  “He was a reptile. He wanted sex with no strings, and I don’t. I walked out on him.”

  “Was he angry?” Wyrick asked.

  “He was passionless.”

  “Description?”

  “Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, slim, and pale as an insect that lives under a rock. And he knows that I live alone, and where.”

  “We’ll look into it. We’ve begun a preliminary review of the Scott case,” Wyrick added.

  Both he and the DC glanced surreptitiously at the scar on her cheek, but Jenny didn’t miss their brief looks. “Are you on my side now?” she asked.

  “I can assure you that we are,” Wyrick answered. “We haven’t the manpower for surveillance, but we’ll have a car drive by periodically. We have questioned your neighbours and requested that they be alert for any suspicious-looking individual.” When they left, they took the photo with them.

  “Jenny, I need to know more about this – reptile – you mentioned. Did he hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “Simon, he never touched me. I spent several afternoons in his office compiling the results of a survey to evaluate the Coroner’s Court Support Service. When my work was finished, he invited me for an early dinner, to thank me, or so he said. That’s when I heard the sob story about his wife. He still wears a wedding ring, so when he suggested that if I entered into a physical relationship with him, we could become fond of each other, I knew he wasn’t offering anything I would value. And I had no desire to become his latest infidelity.”

  He waited a few minutes before speaking but was unable to curb his anger completely. “Jenny, someone is threatening you. You should have told me about this bastard.”

  “You were exhausted when you called, and I was ashamed. And Wyrick and Mackeson are the detectives.”

  “Excuses, Jenny.”

  “Yes, you’re right, but please don’t be mad! He made you look really good.”

  “How’s that?” he asked, curious in spite of himself.

  “Because you care about what I need and want. And right now I need a hug.”

  Finally he smiled. “Come here to me then.” He collected a kiss also.

  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  The next morning when he woke, he found Jenny asleep, fully dressed, in the armchair across from him, a blanket over her shoulders and lap. “What’s this?” he asked her. She didn’t admit to fear, saying only that her senses were in overdrive and she wanted to be closer to him. He made her smile by noting that she’d missed her mark by a few feet. Then she reminded him that she was still scarred from Scott’s attack and shy as a result. When he got over his surprise – why would she be concerned about scars on her chest and abdomen if she weren’t considering letting him see them? – he told her that he didn’t give a toss about them. “You don’t expect them to slow me down, do you?”

  During a Heath walk with Bear, they’d seen Jack Dunaway, the sad little boy Jenny had told him about, with a Jack Russell terrier, a small, compact white dog with one black eye and one tan. According to his grandmother, Jack still hadn’t spoken, but she reported that his appetite and activity level had improved. When Jack threw the ball, the terrier had bounded after it, and they’d heard what sounded like a hoarse cough from Jack. “It’s his laugh,” Mrs. Dunaway explained. “Made me weep the first time I heard it. The couns
elor says his speech will return.” Jenny had been delighted, and he had enjoyed seeing her smile.

  Later that day during a cuddle on the sofa she had slipped her hand under his shirt and then unbuttoned it before kissing his chest. He had taken that as an invitation to explore what was under hers with his fingers and his mouth. When he put his hand on her stomach, however, she’d placed her hand over his. He preferred to think her gesture wasn’t a “no” but her way of saying, “Not yet.” He wondered then what she was waiting for. Was she afraid of pregnancy? An issue easily enough solved. Was it her monthly? If so, he could understand her shyness. Had his drunken action scared her? Should he ask? No, asking could be construed as pressure. Sometimes things worked themselves out. He knew what he wanted: to make love to her sober, taking the time to savor each sensation, his and hers.

  Perhaps his job schedule was the roadblock. The more time they spent together, the closer they became. Then days would pass when he couldn’t see her, and she’d be tentative again. He knew he was asking her for a good deal of trust, but he believed, given time, she would be confident of him.

  CHAPTER 27

  Providence! Teresa, young, cheeky Teresa, dropped a loaded tray at Kosta’s. A wine bottle spilled and six glasses shattered on the tile floor. Teresa, who received from the customers admiring glances which should have been Alcina’s, although she no longer cared about causing them. Teresa, withering under Kosta’s ire, because the wine had been one of their more expensive burgundies. The shards caught the light and reflected it, much as the ideas bursting in Alcina’s brain. Like diamonds, she thought, dangerous little blood-red diamonds that would lie seductively on her target’s porch and slice into the dog’s feet.

  Of course she offered to clean up the mess, and it was all she could do not to laugh aloud while she worked, sweeping the precious jewels into a thick sack she could take home with her. Teresa was very grateful for her assistance, apologising over and over, and Alcina found that funny also, because Teresa was the one who had helped her. Other glasses, dishes, plates, could be made to fall. Things were always breaking in a busy kitchen, and Alcina would collect all the broken pieces. Then – when she had enough – she would send her target the message: You are vulnerable. You will be easy prey for me now.