by C F Dunn
Engrossed in my task, I hadn’t heard him come into our room and I jumped when I noticed him leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed on his chest, quiet eyes watching.
“I’ve nearly finished. I just need to find some room for Theo’s Bear. He can’t sleep without it. He… he…” I rammed my fist into the small pile of clothes and nappies. “There’s no room. I can’t fit everything. I can’t fit their lives in here.”
“Leave it – I’ll finish the packing.” He put his hand over mine and found it shaking. “We’ll get through this, Emma. We will pack up and move on. It’s what we do; it’s what we’ve always done.”
“I haven’t, Matthew. I was born and brought up in the same house. Nobody ever threatened me, nobody hunted me. When I left my front door in the morning I knew I would see it again that evening – and my parents, and my sister, Nanna… Grandpa.” I hung my head, sucking air through my teeth, willing myself to calm. “The clock would always strike, Tiberius would purr… they were markers of normality, Matthew. I took all those things for granted.”
Drawing me to him, he held my head against his chest, rocking me slightly to the beat of his heart. “We are the markers in each other’s lives and in the lives of our children. We carry our memories in here,” he kissed my head, “… and in here,” his chest made a solid tok as he tapped his heart. “Do you think I would hesitate over one single thing in this house if my family was in danger? Would you?” I shook my head beneath his hand. “So, I’ll finish the packing and you find Bear, and together we’ll make some sense of this mess.”
* * *
I switched off the mobile and went to find Matthew in the kitchen. “Snow’s delaying flights out of Toronto, and Ellie and Charlie can’t make it. She sent her apologies.”
“It’s probably just as well. They’re better off over the border at the moment.”
I eyed the vast turkey, stuffed, trussed and ready to go. “We can’t hope to get through that dinosaur.”
“No, but Joel can, and so can Harry, and between them they’ll polish off half the bird at least. Theo’ll have a go as well, won’t you, my boy?” He ruffled his son’s hair and was rewarded with his Churchillian chuckle.
Resting her chin on the table and not to be outdone, Rosie piped up, “I want some turkey, Daddy.”
“Do you indeed, young lady? This bit?” He pointed to a gargantuan leg. “Or merely the whole thing?” She wriggled and squealed as he caught her up by her dungarees and turned her head over heels, blue eyes sparkling, her hair dangling. Anyone looking at them would think nothing of it, but his brooding blues gave him away. Still, he was doing a lot better than I was.
“I’m going to campus to see how Elena’s doing.” With a flick of my hips, I pushed myself away from the kitchen counter. “I’ll get back before the others arrive.”
Matthew righted Rosie and put her on her feet. “Emma, you could phone her.”
“No, I can’t. Not for what I want to say.”
In the hall, I reached for my scarf, and as a second thought took Matthew’s blue one off the hook instead, and wound it around my neck. The toes of my boots nudged Theo’s little bag next to his sister’s and my own. They looked innocuous enough, waiting there. The door opened behind me, letting an oven-warmed draught fill the cooler space.
“At least keep your cell on, as we arranged.”
“They’ll be listening,” I said bitterly, reaching up to the car keys on the hooks by the coats. “They are always listening.”
“Of course they will. And don’t take my car,” he said as my hand hovered over his keys, “It’s skittish in snow. I don’t want you involved in any accidents.”
Collecting the pot-bellied cactus in its orange pot from the windowsill in the kitchen and tucking my bag beneath my arm, I kissed the children and my husband. “I won’t be long. I’ll be back in time to help lay the table and do the veg.”
I picked up my shadow at the intersection where our road joined the highway, although why they bothered with a tail I couldn’t imagine, given they knew where I was and where I must be going. I resented this intrusion, baulked at our lack of privacy, and would have liked nothing better than to tell them so, vociferously and without restraint. I wanted to confront our ghosts, unmask them, and in doing so strip them of this power they had over us. Except that I mustn’t. So I drove as if blithely unaware of the car behind me, or the one which took its place a few miles later that followed me to the gates of the college, where it stopped, as usual, to wait.
“I didn’t expect you!” Elena threw her arms around me, her bump leaving a considerable air gap between us in which my jade beads swung. “I thought you have family coming for Thanksgiving today?”
“We have, but Matthew’s doing the cooking and I wanted to see how you are.” I looped hair behind my ear. “And I wanted to give you this.” I handed her the cactus she had given me all those years ago when I was recovering from Staahl’s attack and before I knew Matthew’s secret. “I think it might need repotting.”
Arched brows gathered in a frown. “Why do you give me Mr Fluffy? Don’t you want it any more?”
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I raised my shoulders slightly. “Well, he’s been a good friend to me over these years, and I thought you might like his company while you’re on maternity leave.”
“Sure. OK.” She rotated the tubby little cactus in its garish pot, inspecting it. “And then I give it back to you, da?”
“Consider it an early Christmas present,” I said, not meeting her eyes.
“Why? Will you not be here for Christmas?”
“Don’t be daft, of course we will.” I laughed, but it didn’t ring true.
She put the stubbly cactus on the sofa table.
“I think there is something wrong. Matias says so, too. He has known Matthew for ten years and he says he’s never seen him like this.”
“Like what?” I whipped.
“Like that. He says he acts as if he has something on his mind, but when Matias asks him, Matthew is…” she struggled to find the word, “… e-va-sive. Yes, and he is more impatient. That is not like Matthew.”
I sank onto the sofa next to her. “No, it isn’t.”
“We thought there might be trouble between you, you know? But there isn’t, is there?” She clasped my fingers in her own. Her rich brown eyes widened. “You are saying goodbye, aren’t you? You are leaving.”
“Matthew wants to move closer to Henry in Arizona. Nothing’s decided yet, but Henry and Pat are getting older…” I let her fill in the rest, and she might have done in the past, blissfully indifferent to my lie, but she knew me better now. She put her arms around me.
“Emma, I am going to miss you. We are going to miss you all.”
“Don’t say anything to anyone. Please, Elena – it’s very important.”
“I will say nothing,” and she zipped her lips and smiled through the beginnings of tears.
I stood, shrugging my coat over my shoulders, and rallied a smile.
“Anyway, we’re not going yet. We have to find somewhere to live, get the house on the market, you know the sort of thing – and that could take months if the housing market is sluggish. We’ll probably still be around to see this little one crawling.” I patted her bump gently. “Well, at least long enough to celebrate the day he’s born.” I gave her a lingering hug. “Take care and God bless. God bless you both.”
I left her standing in the doorway and made it to the bottom of the stairs leading from the married apartments before letting go. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t see her again, just that the next time we would both know that our friendship was on the clock, and the finality of it hurt, like grieving.
Leaning against the wall, I waited until I had gained mastery over my emotions, ruefully reflecting that motherhood made me more prone to crying, and pushed the door open into lightly falling snow. I stopped dead. There, by the corner of an accommodation block, stood a man hunched into a dark winter jacke
t, the collar turned up over his chin and a hat pulled down to his eyes. He beat his hands together to keep warm, and stamped his feet. Long skinny legs in grey trousers made him look like a heron. It was the first time one of them had shown themselves so openly. Without hesitating, I took a left towards the Humanities faculty, keeping to the path and making it look as unhurried as possible. I nipped into the foyer, crossed to the other side, and opened the door to the quad.
“Professor!” I looked around. Aydin descended the stairs towards me, his work case in one hand, a bottle bag in the other. He held out the bottle, beaming. “Professor, I am glad to see you. As a citizen of the United States of America, I give you, Happy Thanksgiving!” His face straightened. “Professor, are you ill?”
I shook my head, dashed a harried glance at the rear door. “Aydin… I am so sorry… I can’t…” I caught a glimpse of a rapidly moving figure nearing the building. “I’m sorry,” I said again, “I must go.” And I left him with confusion scored across his brow.
Quickening my pace and blinking snowflakes from my lashes, I bequeathed dark prints in the thin snow. Across the quad a door yawned open, and another man stepped out. I recognized him as the failed mechanic from the staff car park. He started walking towards me. At that moment, from the med centre I heard my name and without thinking, turned. Matias grinned and waved. His smile wavered, then dropped and he took a step forward. With a slight shake of my head, I swivelled and walked purposefully towards the door at the far end of the cloister, ducked right towards Matthew’s office, along the corridor and out into the med centre reception. From there I could see the two men still in the quad, heads together, then they split, one pulling his mobile from his pocket, the other making for the cloister and the atrium.
I legged it through the rear staff door and made for the car park with the first lights from the flats bleeding onto the thickening snow. A figure emerged from between the few parked cars left there and I darted sideways to avoid it, but a thickly accented voice called out, “Professor!”
“Aydin, I can’t stop.” I looked over my shoulder, but the path behind me remained clear. “I have to go.” Hoiking my keys from my pocket, I fumbled the lock button. “I’m in a rush. Must dash. Family’s waiting.”
“Something is wrong.” He broke off, looking back towards the medical facility, and I swung around. The long-legged man had rounded the corner and was now making his way towards us. I swore under my breath and yanked the door open, flinging my bag onto the passenger seat. Aydin held the door. “You are in trouble?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
“I help you.”
“No! You mustn’t get involved. Please, Aydin.”
“I have seen trouble. I know trouble. You go.” He slammed the door shut and turned as Heron-legs reached the top step to the car park. Snatching the bottle from the bag he still carried, he lurched towards the steps, swaying and gesticulating wildly. I threw the car into reverse, scattering gravel, then into drive. The man ran down the steps, mobile to his ear. Breaking into song, Aydin collided with him, blocking his way. Heron-legs tried to push past him, and the last thing I saw in my rear-view mirror was Aydin’s raised fist bearing down on the surprised man’s face.
Think. I must think.
I went the long way home, checking my mirrors every few minutes. No other car appeared to be following me, but then why should they, given the tracker installed behind the wheel arch that gave my location away? It was time to be rid of it. I drove through thickening snow until I felt calmer and managed to persuade myself to stop for petrol. It looked normal – unrushed, innocent.
Checking no one was behind me, I drew up outside a gas station and joined a queue for last-minute fuel. Pretending to drop my bag as I opened the door, I crouched between cars, fumbled under my wheel arch, found the tracker, dislodged it, and whacked it under the neighbouring car. I wiped my hands on my trousers and climbed back in and set off at what I hoped looked like a leisurely pace, only picking up speed when beyond the village and out on the country roads climbing towards the foothills and home.
I recognized Joel’s 4x4 parked outside the front. I drove into the courtyard with relief, and saw Dan’s Audi pulled neatly to one side in the garage beside the Aston Martin. Harry’s practical Ford, tucked by the Stables, gently gathered snow. I reversed next to Matthew’s car and stilled the engine. The silence of snow filled the courtyard, crowding my ears with whispers, curling kisses melting against my skin. No sound of pursuit came from the long drive, nor from my home in front of me – the shutters not yet closed against prying eyes.
Halfway across the courtyard and taking care not to slip, I saw a light switch on in the Barn, and movement behind the glass. The back door opened. “Henry!” I exclaimed, starting forward.
“No, Emma, it’s me.” Dan stepped into the snow, residual light reflecting from his glasses. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you; I was collecting something for Mom. It’s good to see you.” He crunched across the freezing snow and hugged me warmly. I looked beyond him into the Barn’s kitchen.
“So, Henry and Pat…?”
He shook his head. “Perhaps next year. And Jeannie sends her apologies, but, well…” he faltered, looking embarrassed.
“It’s all right, Dan, you don’t have to explain. I’m glad you could make it at least.” A gust of laughter escaped the kitchen on a wave of turkey-scented air. “Is everyone else already here?”
“They are. I collected Maggie on the way. Are you all right, Emma? You’re looking a bit grim. Has something happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think things are about to change.” “How many?” Matthew asked, worry gathered in corrugations between his eyes, and the long-necked silver serving spoons he had been about to lay, forgotten in his hand.
“Two men that I saw – the one in the car park we spotted the other day, and the other with long legs. He looked familiar, but I can’t place him.”
Joel came around the side of the table. “They’ll be working teams of two with the women you saw in Portland. They’re not cooperating with my agency as far as I’ve been able to find out, but that’s nothing new. Their surveillance is standard practice, though, which makes it easier for us to avoid when it really counts.”
“I haven’t done a good job of it so far.”
“You’ve done OK.” He riffled his short hair, thinking. “What’s surprising is that they’ve blown their cover so obviously.”
Matthew rested his knuckles on the polished wood. “Wanting to flush us out?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
A table fork glinted askew. I straightened it unconsciously. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left like I did. It made me look suspicious.”
Matthew shook his head. “And if you hadn’t, who knows what might have happened? You say it looked like they were going to intercept you?”
“I thought so, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have scarpered. It was Aydin who delayed Heron-legs. I hope he’s OK. The other guy looked pretty angry.”
I heard a distinct tut from Maggie. “If you hadn’t stopped to talk to your student, you could have left without incident.”
Dan shot her a look. “That isn’t helpful, Maggie.”
Her lip curled. “It’s not the first occasion she’s put us in jeopardy, and this time she’s involved a stranger. Her self-interest knows no bounds.”
“‘Acid for blood’,” Joel drawled in an undertone meant for his brother’s ears but was clearly audible to the rest of us. Maggie paid them scant attention.
“Trusting her was a mistake from the beginning. She’s brought this upon us. All she’s ever done is divide us and draw attention to the family. If it weren’t for her, my father would still be here. If it weren’t for her, we’d…”
Matthew brought his open hand down on the table, making the water in the glasses shudder. “Margaret, if you have nothing constructive to add, don’t say anything at all. Feel free to leave at any time.” She writhed und
er his steel glare and her hand jerked to her throat where the snake necklace coiled. She dropped her gaze. Matthew drew breath. “It looks like the game plan’s changing.”
“Whose game plan?” I asked. “If it’s not Joel’s agency, then who has something to gain from tracking us, and who has the authority to do so?”
Joel answered. “It’s a prelude, Emma. Tracking is only a means to an end…”
“What end?”
“That,” Matthew said, “will depend on who’s sanctioned the operation. Joel believes this has the hallmarks of agency surveillance, but it’s unlikely they’re working autonomously.”
“Which means?”
“Which means they are working with, or for, another agency. Which brings us back to your question: who has something to gain?”
“Well, who does?” Harry asked his brother.
Joel hunched forward in his jacket. “I’ve been digging around, and the most likely agency interested in what we’ve got to offer is the SSC – Soldier Systems Center. They’re responsible for R and D – Research and Development,” he added when he saw me frown. “It’s for the Army: specialized clothing, equipment, body armour, that sort of stuff, but also human performance.”
Harry whistled. “What, like endurance?”
“Yeah, bro’. They take volunteers and see how they perform under environmental extremes – heat, cold, altitude, that sort of thing.”
“I can see why they’d be interested in us,” Dan said.
“Sure, Dad, so can I, but they’re not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I have a contact who has… contacts, and she hasn’t been able to trace the source of the operation – no orders, no mark, nothing. They’ve never heard of the Lynes family. The SSC’s not it.”