by Clare Revell
Wow. Her anger was forgotten as she gazed at the photo. He was a hunk. Tall and thin, rather austere features, with ice blue eyes and short dark hair that stood up a little on top.
Lou had to giggle despite herself as she realised she used the hunk scale she and Staci had invented as kids to rate him. He’d score seven and a half, maybe even an eight, just on looks. No man ever rated a ten as that was perfection and wasn’t possible.
It was time to get this show on the road. The sooner she got up there, the sooner she could meet the bloke and do what Varian wanted her to do, whatever that was, and the sooner she could go home. He’d been more than a little vague. Maybe once she stopped being mad at him, she’d be intrigued.
But right now, as she started the car, she was too annoyed for anything else. She dropped her phone into her bag and shoved the gear stick into first, wincing as the gears ground in protest. She leaned her head against the steering wheel, forcing herself to calm down. Crashing the car, or being stopped for dangerous driving, would only inflame her already stretched nerves and wouldn’t help one iota.
2
Evan Close eased back onto the plush red leather sofa in his London office and lifted the glass of whisky from the silver tray on the side table. He had very few vices, but this was one of them. The amber liquid sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. His nerves had been on edge since the phone call after lunch, and now he was tauter than a violin bow.
He had spent years building up Xenon, his civil engineering company, and had finally begun to reap the rewards from years of hard work. And he now stood on the cusp of losing everything.
Thanks to Varian Sparrow. There was a family connection somewhere in the past. He and Varian were cousins several times removed, but he didn’t pay any attention to that. The less he and Varian had to do with each other the better, as far as he was concerned. Especially now Varian was sending a woman to dig into a past he needed kept buried.
He could have done the research into this woman by himself, but that was why he paid other people.
Besides, he’d had work of his own to do. A new tender was up for grabs, and he had to polish his pitch and make sure his offer was better than anyone else’s. Files were spread out over the table in front of him. Facts, figures, running costs from his other projects, including the jewel in his crown—the Thames Barrier.
The tap and the door opening occurred simultaneously. He glanced upwards. Only one person had the authority to do that. And it wasn’t his secretary either. He nodded to the tall, dark haired man standing opposite him. “So, what do we know about her, Ira?”
Ira Miles, his head of security, opened the file and handed Evan a photo. “Quite a bit.”
“Take a seat.” Evan studied the picture as Ira folded himself into the chair on the other side of the coffee table.
The woman in the photo was pretty. Long black hair, sparkling blue eyes, dimples in her cheeks, and perfect teeth that shone. She appeared young, but he didn’t suppose she was.
“Her name is Dr. Louisa Willow Benson Fitzgerald. She’s thirty-two and was born in Southampton. She won swimming gold in the Para-world championships thirteen years ago in the four-hundred meters freestyle, setting a new world and commonwealth record in the process. She gave up swimming to pursue a career in archaeology. B.Sc., M.Sc., Ph.D., ending up as one of the top archaeologists in her field.” He paused and looked expectantly at Evan.
“What did I miss?”
“Archaeologist…field…digging…”
Evan groaned. “That’s a terrible pun. Even by my standards. Go on.”
“Her father, Robert Benson, died when she was twelve. Her mother, Nichola, was remarried five years later to an American pilot, Jack Fitzgerald. He’s now the General in charge of Nellis Air Force Base. Dr. Fitzgerald has two siblings from that marriage, a brother, Robert, aged fourteen, and a sister, Emily, who is twelve. She took her stepfather’s surname when he adopted her. Before that, she and two friends ran away. According to what I discovered they sparked a worldwide search after they left Southampton on board a cabin cruiser. They were finally found seven months later on Agrihan where they’d been shipwrecked.”
Evan raised an eyebrow and snatched the offered paper as he snorted in disbelief. “Really? And Agrihan is where exactly?”
“It’s part of the North Marina Islands in the Pacific. That’s a distance of around seven-thousand, two-hundred and twenty miles from where they set off. And that’s going as the crow flies east to west. Though I imagine they’d have gone west to east, so the mileage could be out by a fair few miles.”
“Hmmm. And these kids were how old?”
“Dr. Fitzgerald was fifteen; her friends Jim and Staci Kirk were seventeen and thirteen respectively.”
Evan tossed the paper to the side, discounting the story as totally implausible. “Yeah, right.” He swallowed a generous sip of the whisky and waved a finger over the top of the glass. “Go on.”
“She has a prosthetic left leg due to injuries received when she ran away. No more details on that. She’s sidestepped the question on every interview she’s ever given. If it is a matter of public record, it’s been well and truly sealed. Her reputation as an archaeologist is formidable. By all accounts, she’s like a dog with a bone, as the cliché says. Once she starts uncovering something, she keeps going until she’s found all the answers. There is a list of her papers and so on attached to that document I gave you.”
Evan shifted on the sofa, a gnawing starting in the pit of his stomach. “Is she a threat?”
Ira shook his head. “She is ambitious, but a threat? I’m not sure. We’ll need to keep a close watch on her.”
Evan drained the whisky and held the glass up to the light. “Why send her?”
“Sir?”
“It’s a rhetorical question. I was wondering why Varian would send her when it’s in his interests to keep the past buried. It’s something we need to address in the not too distant future.” He rose and set the glass down. Crossing to the large picture window, he glanced at his reflection, pushing his fingers through his hair. Then he gazed out at the streets of London several stories below him. The Thames glinted in the sunlight. “I need to get up there. I’ll take the jet. Pack for several days, and I’ll do the same. Make the usual arrangements for us to be met at the airport and leave the file with me. I want to read it.”
Ira nodded, placed the folder on the desk, and headed to the door.
Evan crossed back to the desk and held down the intercom. “Janet, I’m heading up to Dark Lake for a week or so. Can you arrange to have the jet on standby? And ask the manor staff get the house ready. I’ll be there first thing.”
“Yes, Mr. Close.”
Evan released the intercom, and then grabbed his briefcase and placed it carefully on the desk. He’d paid good money for the black leather with gold trim and didn’t want to damage it. He strode to the filing cabinet and drew the key from his jacket pocket.
He ran over the files until he reached D. Then he removed every file pertaining to Dark Lake. What was Varian Sparrow playing at? Yes, the water levels in the lake were low. But that had happened before and would happen again. Just like at the Ladybower Dam several years ago. It didn’t mean anything. Did it?
He couldn’t take the risk. The secrets of Dark Lake had to stay buried in the past where they belonged. The problem was, this archaeologist, this Dr. Louisa Fitzgerald, dug up and exposed the past for a living.
She had to be halted, one way or another.
If it was the last thing he did, he had to stop her.
3
Lou eased herself from the car, stiff and aching after the long drive across the country. At least there was a motorway connecting Wales and the very north of England, so far north she was only a few miles shy of Scotland. Perhaps after this was done, she should pop over the border to visit some friends in Lockerbie.
Having spoken to her parents and Jim the previous evening, they all told her the s
ame thing, which basically boiled down to “go where the boss tells you and lump it.” They didn’t get her point. The discovery in Wales was hers. It proved the link between Stonehenge and the stone circle she’d been excavating. Publishing the paper and speaking to news broadcasters would have made her career. As it was, someone else would get the glory, the acclamation, and the huge pay bonus that went with it.
She’d even told them about the university job—combining field work and teaching. She’d suggested it was time for a change, but again they’d told her not to do anything while she was angry. That just inflamed her temper further.
She’d been too mad to drive the previous night, so she had attempted to sleep and failed miserably at that. Instead, she’d logged onto the company server just after midnight. She first downloaded, and then deleted all her old files that weren’t related to Llaremont—making sure they weren’t recoverable by anyone. Not even the best IT bloke the Sparrow Foundation employed would be able to recover them once she’d finished. Varian would notice the Llaremont files were gone, whereas her old stuff wouldn’t be missed as quickly. Having done that, she’d changed all her passwords and logged out of the system.
She’d checked out of the hotel before dawn and hit the motorway still fuming, covering the distance in a little under five hours. Her resentment had grown with every passing mile. Her hands shook as she tugged open the boot and yanked out her case.
Varian had no right to do that to her.
Not after all the years she’d given him. Once this was done, she’d quit, go work for another firm. She’d been head hunted a month ago by a university. OK, the money was a lot less than she was currently being paid, but she could stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time. Finally put down roots, something she’d longed for but was unable to do. More importantly, she would hopefully be working for someone who wanted and appreciated her.
That was more than Varian did, and he didn’t deserve her talents anyway.
Lou slammed the boot, her mind made up. There was a much better solution. The university was only a fifteen-mile drive from Dark Lake. She’d call them to see if the job was still available before heading over to visit. Show them how interested she was. Even if they didn’t want her, this was the last time Varian would make a fool of her.
She fully intended to tell him what to do with his job, but not yet. Not in the heat of the moment when she’d only say something she’d regret. She’d quit first thing on Monday morning. That would give her a week to get her feet on the ground here. At least she assumed it was Tuesday. Or maybe it was Wednesday?
Lou closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath of the clean, fresh air. She let it out slowly, letting go of the anger and stress at the same time. One of the tricks the shrinks had taught her years ago that actually worked.
She glanced at the hotel—like the stone built houses that made up the rest of the small, yet pretty village. The buildings all had grey stone walls, slate roofs with chimneys, and tiny walled gardens with flowers and wishing wells. The hotel was built on the main road and right next door to the local village pub—The Wolf Pack. According to the guidebook it had a maze, something she definitely needed to check out at some point.
The inside of the building was simple, but smart. A smiling desk clerk gave her a key and directions up to her room on the second floor. Lou would have preferred ground floor, but at least there was a lift. The room itself was small, but cosy. A pine bed filled most of the floor space, with a chest of drawers and wardrobe along the opposite wall. The usual large screen TV and tea/coffee making accoutrements crowded the top of the chest. The bedding and curtains were matching green gingham.
It reminded her of the set she’d had when she was ten.
She crossed the room to check out the view, noting the fire escape right outside her window. That was a good thing. Being trapped in a fire was one of the things she dreaded most, right along with drowning. Both were hardly surprising given her past.
Her room overlooked the main road, but the village didn’t have a night club or much traffic, so noise wouldn’t be a problem. Well, maybe when the pub turned out, but after that, it should be fine.
Lou flopped down on the bed and bounced, testing the springs. Not bad. Reaching into her bag, she tugged out her phone and quickly brought up the e-mail the university had sent. May as well call now while she thought of it; she’d only forget if she didn’t. Or she’d wimp out, as Jim so eloquently put it. She found the number and dialled. Fingers tapped on the bedspread as she waited for the call to connect. “Hello, this is Dr. Lou Fitzgerald. Could I speak to Professor Cunningham please?”
Absently, she rubbed her knee as she spoke. Some days she could still feel pain, even though there was nothing there.
“Tobias Cunningham speaking.”
“Professor Cunningham, this is Dr. Fitzgerald. I’m calling in connection to the post you offered me a month ago. I was wondering if it’s still available, because if it is, I was wondering if you’d consider allowing me to change my mind? I’d really like to take the job, if it’s still going.” Lou held her breath, waiting for a response. She was prepared to do whatever it took: grovel, beg, take an even bigger pay cut, teach more classes than she originally intended.
“May I ask why you’ve changed your mind? Last time we spoke, you were full of enthusiasm as to where your latest project was taking you and didn’t want to leave.”
“Let’s just say I’ve been royally done over as far as that is concerned.”
“In what way?”
She closed her eyes. “I shouldn’t complain to you, but my boss allowed me to do all the work and right when my theories were proven correct, he replaced me with someone else. Believe it or not, with his son.”
“I see. So you’re resigning in a fit of temper, and we’re your back-up plan.”
“Not really. More like I’ve come to my senses as this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. The post you’re offering involves teaching, doesn’t it? I want to pass on my knowledge and try to enthuse the next generation, as well as doing field work and apply for research grants. I’m resigning at the start of next week anyway, but thought as I’m in the area, I could maybe come and visit, talk things over, try to persuade you to take me on.”
A dry chuckle echoed over the phone. “Very well. Yes, the post is still available. We’ll have dinner and talk, but I’m making no promises. How about Friday? Say seven thirty at The Wolf Pack. It’s a pub in Dark Lake about fifteen miles from here.”
Lou’s heart leapt and a huge grin covered her face. Was this meant to be? “That’s brilliant. Thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me. See you then.” She scribbled down the date, time, and place on paper she found on the chest. She drew the file from her bag and searched for the phone number for Charlie Bramston—the local historian. And she may as well drive over to the dam and meet the bloke in charge up there, a Jasper Steele, according to the file, and get the ball rolling, before she hunted down Evan Close.
~*~
Evan sat in the back of the car and watched the countryside as Jock drove past the entrance road to the manor house his family had owned for generations and through the village before taking the route leading to the dam. He didn’t use the chauffeur all the time, but as he didn’t leave the car at the airport, this morning it was a necessity.
When they reached the entrance to the dam car park, Evan leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “I’ll walk from here, been cooped up for far too long. I’ll also find out what Jasper knows about this new dig they want to do.” He glanced at Ira. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
The cold wind blasted through him as Evan opened the car door. He stepped from the vehicle and tugged his coat collar up against the chill air. He’d always found it amazing that one part of the country could be sweltering hot while another part was cold, dismal, and wet. That seemed to be par for the course here in Dark Lake.
Evan began walking, his s
izeable paces effortlessly covering the ground. Despite the history of the Aberfinay Dam and the sorrow surrounding Dark Lake, he had always liked it here. It was a shame such beauty hid such a sordid secret. Did it taint him, too? How far did the proverbial sins of the fathers go before they were absolved?
Long strides carried him from the entrance of the car park to the dam. The levels in the lake were much lower than he’d been led to believe. Most of the church spire was now visible. A huge hole gaped in the side. The blackened stone beneath hinted at the fire that had raged in the days and hours before the flooding began. No one had ever really spoken about that day or of the fire, but Evan had found the journal his great-grandfather kept and had learned enough from that to know the secrets of the lake had to stay buried.
Two people stood farther along the dam. The black man with the clipboard Evan knew: Charlie Bramston, a close personal friend of Varian. He was the local history buff and self-proclaimed custodian of the reservoir, who liked to think he knew everything. Of course, what he did know was the edited and sanitized version invented for public knowledge.
One of the little known facts about history was it was either written by the victorious or the survivors. Thus, the slant depended on who wrote it, not on what really had occurred.
Evan recognized the woman with Charlie from the photos in his files. Dr. Louisa Fitzgerald. Her long dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, sun glasses perched on top of her head, while a long mac obscured her figure.
Their body language and gestures indicated a disagreement between them long before he strode into earshot.
“And I’m telling you, Dr. Fitzgerald, we won’t get permission to dive, and if we did the buildings are too unstable.”
“We’ll see about that. Varian assured me he’d sort it. Where can I find the dam foreman?”
“Jasper Steel’s office is right over there. He’ll tell you the same—”