The Mission

by Naomi Kryske

  Simon’s calls were brief and businesslike. He had contacted Sean MacKenna and met with him one evening when his team had completed their work earlier than usual. After Jenny returned to Hampstead, MacKenna would provide soft surveillance during the day, observing the flat and shadowing Jenny from a distance whenever she went out.

  Simon was mission-oriented, she knew that, and he was very concerned about her safety. He was attentive when they were together and spent as much time with her as his job allowed. He was capable of tenderness. Before he had sent her to Kent, he had massaged the tense muscles between her shoulders, stroked the back of her neck, and then brushed it with his lips, but he had not said anything. Her body was ready to love him; in her heart she was beginning to love him; but her mind told her to wait until he declared himself. She didn’t want a casual affair. His nightly calls, which were likewise short of endearments, did nothing to dispel her doubt. He claimed to miss her, but his voice spoke more of fatigue than of longing.

  She and Simon had been seeing each other since before the summer began. He had given her time to work out her feelings for him, and also important, to experience how his schedule would shape their lives. Beth had made it clear that SO19 wives had to accept, respect, and share the sacrifices their husbands made for the Job. Jenny had known when she fell in love with Colin that she would live in England, not in America, but she had never seen that as a sacrifice. Colin’s long hours on the job had sometimes caused problems between them, but she had never been able to imagine him doing anything other than policing.

  Simon’s police service could drive them apart unless she embraced it as fully as he did. In the past he had spoken of operations with an “acceptable risk.” Was that what he was taking with her? Wanting her eyes to be open before he made a commitment? Or was he confident that she could rise to the challenge of dealing with his erratic schedule? As always, instead of using words like “sacrifice” to tell her what his work was like, he preferred to let actions and experiences speak for themselves. His integrity wouldn’t allow him to deceive her; therefore words of love from him meant commitment. She couldn’t love a man if she didn’t respect his life, and she had a deep respect for everything Simon stood for.

  She found some time each day to visit the family cemetery where Colin was buried. She leaned against his headstone, tracing the letters that were carved there and then closing her eyes to absorb the peaceful atmosphere. The only sounds she heard were the rustling of the leaves through the trees, an occasional bird singing, and her voice as she spoke to her husband.

  “Colin, I’m writing a book about grief, a workbook to help people who have lost a loved one. I told your mum about it, and she had some wonderful suggestions. I think she was pleased, because I’m going to dedicate it to you.”

  She smiled to herself. “That’s kind of a backward compliment, isn’t it? Thanking you for something you accomplished through your death. But you always did believe that good could come out of bad, and I hope this book will do that. Anyway, I’m going to have it printed myself. Thanks to you, I can afford it. I’m going to give the first copy to Neil Goodwyn because he has helped me so much. And then I’m going to give away the others to anyone who needs them.”

  She didn’t tell him about her stalker, though, and she waited until her last day in Kent to mention her new relationship with Simon. “I’m seeing someone, Colin,” she began, “and I’m falling in love with him. I’m going to tell your mum, but I wanted to talk with you first. Do you want to know who it is?”

  She paused, knowing that she had delayed the news as long as she could. “Of course you want to know. Your inquisitive nature was one of the things that made you a good detective, wasn’t it?” She took a deep breath. “It’s Simon. Don’t be mad – when you were jealous of him in the past, there was no reason. He was just a friend to me then, and I was always faithful to you in every way. I didn’t know until recently that there was anything more in his heart. And a part of my heart will always belong to you. I’m going to give him the rest, but I haven’t told him yet.”

  She sighed. “It isn’t the same, Colin. I’m older and sadder than I was when I fell in love with you.” She gave a rueful smile. “I know the expression is older and wiser, but I’m not sure I am. Anyway, we need each other, and he’s good to me. Can you – ” Her voice faltered. “Can you be happy for me?”

  She felt the skin around the scar on her cheek begin to tingle, then her lips, and finally the tips of her fingers. Gradually the sensations lessened until none remained. Her chest tightened, and tears rose because she knew he was letting her go. She wasn’t going to say good-bye to him, however; that would be like pretending that he had had no impact on her life, and she couldn’t do that. Instead she sat for a long time next to him, not hindering the gentle tears which fell upon the earth which covered him. Even without good-bye, it was the end of something.

  CHAPTER 35

  Her target was alone. Alcina was certain of it. She had seen blood on her porch, dark drops of blood smudged like wine. It had to be the dog’s blood. Her heart leapt: Could her target have been injured as well? She tried to slow her excited breaths and think things through. Her target would have worn shoes, so an injury, if any, would have been slight. Good. She wanted to inflict harm on her target directly, not cause it through an impersonal method.

  Alcina hadn’t danced since Tony’s arrest. Now, however, she needed some way to express the fierce joy she felt, because she was no longer a follower. No, she was the leader of this rhythmic action. And the weight she had lost over the months of training had made her lighter on her feet, quicker as well, yet stronger, because her energy was focused on a single, powerful outcome.

  She laughed aloud and began to sway from side to side. Extending her arms, she admired the continuous line from her shoulder to the tip of the knife she held. She imagined the blade catching and reflecting the light, glowing as if alive. Bending this way and that, letting the knife wave gracefully in the air, she choreographed her deadly sinuous ballet. One two three, a turn, a dip, a twirl, one two three.

  She continued the dress rehearsal, confident in her starring role. Her entrance would be sudden and strong, with no lines necessary because the knife would speak for her, piercing again and again.

  One, her target unarmed; two, without warning; three, unable to alter the result. Thrust two three, thrust two three. Thrust two three, thrust two three. Victory was certain.

  CHAPTER 36

  Jenny stepped off the tube platform at the Finchley Road station on Saturday looking smaller than Simon Casey remembered. He gave her a brief hug and kiss and told her he’d give her a proper kiss when they got home.

  “I don’t want a proper kiss,” she said. “I want improper ones and lots of them.”

  He laughed and steered her out of the station. At the flat, however, they took only the time to leave her holdall before heading to the vet’s to collect Bear. They had barely settled the dog when they left again to purchase groceries. It was evening before she thumbed through her mail. “Strange,” she said when she saw the plain, unaddressed envelope. She tore off one end, removed a short strip of black ribbon, and held it up for him to see. “How creepy!”

  It was a death threat. “Have you received others?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light. She would have need of him, but they would both have to rely on MacKenna.

  “No, and it doesn’t have my name on it. Maybe it isn’t meant for me.”

  But it had been pushed through her letter box. “Set it aside for the detectives,” he advised.

  They were beside each other on the sofa, but she was jumpy, changing the subject frequently and occasionally losing her train of thought. “I told Colin’s mum that I was seeing someone and we were pretty serious,” she said. “Did I overstate things?”

  “Not at all. How did she react to the news?”

  She smiled. “She was glad.”

  Joanne hadn’t been surprised, however. She had told Jen
ny that Colin had suspected Sergeant Casey’s feelings for her went beyond friendship. “I was afraid that Vi’s unfaithfulness would cause him to doubt you – once bitten, twice shy, you know – but he trusted your love. When he added up everything you’d given to be his wife, he just didn’t think it would be possible for you to betray him. And he was well aware of your sergeant’s sense of honour. So there’s nothing to cast a shadow on the happiness you feel now.” Jenny had embraced her.

  “I told my parents, too. That I was seeing someone.”

  “And?”

  “Mixed reaction. Happy I’m not alone but sad that I didn’t find someone in Texas.” She shook her head to clear her mind of the memory. Her mother had been decidedly unhappy. “Simon – when I’m in Kent, I visit Colin’s grave. I talk things over with him, sort of. I told him that you’re the reason I’m doing better, and he – he let me go.”

  She wasn’t smiling. He took her hand, not certain what she meant. Was she telling him there was room in her life for him? He cleared his throat. “Are you done then? With grief?”

  “Dr. Knowles says that grief never stops entirely, but life – a more normal life – returns. I don’t feel normal, but maybe that’s because of the stalker. Do I need to meet with Mr. MacKenna?”

  Fortunately not, because he wouldn’t have wanted her to hear their conversation. MacKenna, a slender man with streaks of grey in his hair and beard, had understood immediately that once the dog was removed, she was next. “He’s been sufficiently briefed,” he answered. “He’ll be on the job Monday. You’ll be able to go out whenever you wish.”

  “What if I want to go to Ricky to see Beth? Will he wait for me the whole time at the tube station?”

  “Jenny, I’ll give you his mobile number. You can ring him when you’re returning. When you’re in Hampstead, he’ll be nearby, but it wouldn’t be wise to approach him.”

  She wriggled out of his embrace and sat up. “I have to look like I’m not being protected, is that it? Wouldn’t it be easier just to paint a target on my chest?”

  She was more apprehensive than he had realised. “Not to worry, love. He’ll be close enough to protect you and catch the baddy as well.”

  Sunday brought more of the same. She broke off the self-defence drills and leaned her head against his chest. “I need a break. Tea?” When she went into the kitchen to make it, her hands were shaking. “Where are you off to this week?” she asked. “Do you have to go? What if I need you? Oh, damn, I spilled the tea.”

  He put his arms around her. “Sshh,” he said softly. “You remember: It’s my training week. You’ll be all right. I’ll ring you each night.”

  “I can offer better accommodations,” she said in a lighter tone.

  “Too right. I don’t like being so far away, but the following week I’m on leave. Time then for me to protect you myself.”

  “I wish – ” she began and then stopped. Wishes were fantasies. The danger was as real as Simon’s embrace and more enduring.

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

  To borrow one of Simon’s words, Jenny felt their weekend had been “unsatisfactory.” She had been eager to see him – she had wanted kisses that would distract her from her situation – but when they were alone at the flat, she couldn’t forget that danger was imminent, and she couldn’t relax. He’d be away all week for training, which wouldn’t help her, while she’d be bait for the stalker, like the rabbits they used to make greyhounds run faster. She felt like running. She felt like screaming!

  He’d led her through the self-defense exercises on Saturday, but on Sunday she’d stopped trying to defend herself and held onto him, fighting tears and asking if the stalker would have a gun. He hadn’t scolded her. “Not likely,” he had replied and kissed her hair. She loved it when he did that; it was the kind of thing a guy would do only if he loved you.

  She looked at Bear. He had a sad face in the best of times, and now he looked positively mournful with the cone around his neck, a symbol, she thought, that the stalker had won the first round. As he hobbled around in his bandages, she wondered if she’d look like that – or worse – in a few days. Knowing that Mr. MacKenna would be in the background somewhere didn’t give her a warm and fuzzy feeling. She was still exposed. The stalker would be bigger and stronger than she was. What if Mr. MacKenna weren’t fast enough? What if she were killed before she and Simon had confessed their love for each other? Would Simon grieve for her the way she had grieved for Colin?

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

  Believing it was always better to get the lie of the land before a job began, Sean MacKenna recced the Hampstead site. From where he stood, he could see the entrance to Mrs. Sinclair’s flat easily. He rolled himself a cigarette and watched Sergeant Casey and Mrs. Sinclair arrive with the dog. They were preoccupied with the animal and didn’t see him.

  Before he left the area, he’d identify possible hiding places and escape routes as well. He already knew the closest cross streets and most direct way to the High Street. He had located the Hampstead nick and Royal Free Hospital.

  A weapon could be concealed in an assailant’s clothing, in a briefcase, or even within a folded newspaper. The weather being warm, bulky clothes would stand out. The High Street had two newsstands; Finchley Road, one. He’d purchase a newspaper himself each morning, from a different vendor, taking time to observe other customers. Did they appear to be heading toward a commercial location or traversing neighbourhood streets?

  Three tube stations served Hampstead. He’d spend some time observing the flow of persons from each one. He had been advised that Mrs. Sinclair did not go out at night; the attack would therefore take place in the daytime.

  Sergeant Casey had requested nightly updates. No problem; he’d ring the sergeant on his mobile.

  Poor little lady, losing her husband like that. She was alone and vulnerable, but he’d look out for her. He leant on his cane and finished his cigarette. It was good to be on the Job again.

  CHAPTER 37

  Alcina felt certain that her campaign was entering its final phase. Her target must know that she was not safe. At the very least the dog had been injured. It was no longer capable of defending her or disrupting Alcina’s plans. The attack could come soon. Alcina had prepared well, and she would be ready.

  What should her approach be? Should she knock her target down first, then attack her while she lay on the ground at her feet? She liked that image, her target writhing in fear and pain on the dirt. Perhaps she should practise that scenario. No, she would have to bend so far down to strike her that the force of her thrusts could be compromised. And her target could strike back before she had a chance to sink the knife in her flesh. She could curl up to protect the most vulnerable spots on her body. She could attempt to crawl away.

  No, Alcina would strike her as she stood. If she fell to the ground wounded, so be it, but the first blow would come when she was at a convenient height for the knife. Her target was small and weak, inferior in stature as well as strength. All Alcina had to do was let her hand fall. The knife would gather momentum as it drew closer to her target’s body.

  The key: She had to be ready to act at a moment’s notice, whenever the opportunity presented itself. For the best chance of success, not the High Street or other busy footway but an isolated spot with no one around to respond to screams, to intervene in the attack, to aid her target in any way. Many of the neighbourhood streets in Hampstead were quiet, with little or no traffic either in vehicles or on foot. Alcina had done her homework. She knew where those streets were. She knew who, what, why, and how. The only question in her mind was when.

  CHAPTER 38

  On Monday Jenny traveled to Rickmansworth to spend time with Beth, Meg, and Robbie. From the Hampstead tube station, she took the Northern line – which didn’t connect directly with Ricky – in the wrong direction and transferred twice to the Metropolitan line at Bond Street – but she felt safer
. The Hampstead station was closer to the flat, hence less time walking without Bear, and since she had to change trains, it could be harder for the stalker to follow her.

  Like Hampstead, Ricky had bakeries and restaurants on the High Street, but Ricky had many more charity shops and a large Marks and Spencer department store, too. Jenny picked up Chinese food from a restaurant not far from the train station, knowing she and Beth would enjoy it and Beth could use the leftovers later instead of having to prepare a new meal. Past the car park, a tunnel led to a tree-covered walkway. On rainy days she appreciated the protection it gave her, and on warm days it was cool beneath the arching branches. Now, however, she knew that Simon would see potential villains lurking among the trees, and she doubted that Mr. MacKenna had followed her from Hampstead. Had the stalker boarded the train and kept her in sight? If she needed the police, officers from the Met would not respond to her 999 call. She was in Hertfordshire, the domain of the Hertfordshire Constabulary. She walked quickly to the housing area that lay just beyond.

  After greeting Beth, she played with Meg to let Beth rest when the baby slept. When Meg took her afternoon nap, she was tempted to nap, too; she hadn’t slept well after Simon had left on Sunday, but she had come to help Beth, so instead she did laundry, folding the clothes which Beth had left in the dryer and doing an additional load of children’s wear. She didn’t dwell on her stalker situation with Beth, just mentioning that Simon had hired a retired copper to keep an eye on her. On her way home, she rang Mr. MacKenna to let him know when she’d be arriving and at which station. “Quiet day, Mrs. S.,” he reported. “No one neared your flat.” She didn’t see him when she arrived. She knew better than to look for him, but if she couldn’t see him, could he see her?