A Chance Encounter

by Rae Shaw

  Julianna's foot slipped off the brake and she nearly collided with the car in front. She curled fingers around the steering wheel.

  ‘Who?’ she said, too urgently.

  Sophia's voice lost its sweetness. ‘John and Reg shit bricks every time they mentioned his name. The Deliverer.’ She chuckled, innocuously. ‘Ridiculous, like they’re talking about the Godfather. They've never met him, only go-betweens, and he uses lots of aliases, so he could be like a phantom.’

  He wasn't a phantom. He existed. Julianna was sure of it and she scowled in full view of the mirror. Sophia leaned forward in her seat, poised to ask a question. Julianna turned the radio up, breaking one of those neatly written protocols she kept stuffed in the glove compartment, and Sophia shuffled back into the creaking leather and stared out of the window.

  The whole business made her feel sick. Mark had to be told about the deliverer, the other criminal enterprise ruined by the Clewer family. She drew the car up outside of Hettie's house and glanced at the dashboard – half past four. She had to drive the women to Surrey, then bring the car back again. There was no point ringing Mark to arrange to meet him, his phone was out of action, and she still had to track down Ellen, find out what the girl knew.

  Hettie dropped a bag into the boot without Julianna's assistance and slid into the seat next to Sophia. The two women air pecked each other's cheeks.

  ‘Luke will bring your present later. He's stuck in court and it's in his car,’ Sophia said.

  ‘Oh, no worries. Jackson has already gone ahead of me. I think he's cooking something special with the kids...’

  Julianna tuned the chatter out. She tried hard not to worry about Mark and, in any case, what were the chances of something happening that specific evening? Weeks had gone by since Sophia had spoken to Reg and John.

  She needed strong coffee, the kind that left the taste buds in no doubt they had been assaulted. Then maybe some sex with Mark to soothe his worries, and hers, then whisper into his ear how she had unravelled the knotted lines of his past and where they all led. Not to Bill, or Haydocks, but Haynes and Opportunitas, and the mission Jackson had given himself to destroy the trafficking networks and their money, the money that belonged to the likes of Redningsmann.

  She still didn’t know why Haynes was a key player. His crusade was a personal mission, the origins a secret. Chris would know, and one day, she hoped she would have the trust of Haynes like Chris. With luck her prowess would solidify her role in Chris's investigation team. For now, she was defined as Hettie's protection officer. Julianna glanced in the mirror. Poor Hettie was surrounded, constantly watched and given very little privacy beyond the walls of her home.

  The bricks and steel of the city sank away into muddy fields and quaint villages. She turned off into a lane. They were a few minutes away from Fasleigh House.

  Her passengers were laughing.

  ‘Why do you care, Hettie? You have gardeners, hundreds of them, probably.’

  ‘Two actually. They'll be complaining about the weather. It's either too wet or too cold to dig. Whenever I track them down, they're in the greenhouses, warming up.’

  Too cold. Too wet. Who went digging in the winter when the summer was the perfect time? Driving through the gates of Fasleigh House, a gut-wrenching realisation struck her core. Julianna had it all wrong – the threat was immediate.

  The lights of the house were a blur, children squealed with delight and Jackson's voice cut through them to welcome his wife home.

  Julianna stayed in the car with the engine running. The rain was back, thundering on the roof. She had to make a decision: either she handled it all on her own or she told Jackson. If she screwed it up on her own, the price would be high, too high. If she roped in Jackson and it turned out to be a wild goose chase, then she would lose his respect.

  She thumped the steering wheel and turned off the engine. With her jacket pulled up over her head, she dashed to the front door and leaned against the doorbell.

  ~ * ~

  Hettie opened the door. A small child was perched on her hip.

  ‘Julianna.’ Hettie eyed her cautiously. Evey babbled and drooled.

  ‘I’m sorry about this, Mrs Haynes, but I’m stuck to know what to do and I need Mr Haynes's advice.’ Julianna followed Hettie into the kitchen. She had seen the interior of the house only once during her orientation tour. From then on, she had never gone any further than the gatehouse, except for that evening when she had betrayed the Haynes’ trust.

  Noah was under the kitchen table with a set of dinky cars making “brum brum” noises. Sophia, with her head down, joined in, leaving her face obscured.

  ‘Baptiste? What brings you here?’ Jackson leaned back on the worktop and folded his arms across his chest.

  Julianna wished the scene was less domesticated. She would prefer his office, even Chris's subterranean one. Jackson in his jeans and a rugby shirt was too comfortable. The aroma of warm bread and cakes played havoc with her senses. ‘It’s about Mark and Ellen, sir. Especially Ellen. I think he's going after her this weekend.’ She shifted her eyes in the direction of Hettie.

  Hettie retrieved her son from under the table.

  ‘Please take the kids to another room, Hettie,’ a grave-faced Jackson said.

  She didn’t question him and left the room with both children, the protesting boy pulled along with a firm grasp.

  ‘What's happened?’ Jackson came over to the table, where Sophia sat bemused, but wise enough to keep quiet.

  ‘Mark's sister is going to Ireland. Mark’s letting her dump her stuff in his apartment. She's quit her job and I think she's moving out of her flat soon. She's been arranging this trip with somebody Mark has never met. I don't know his name. But you can guess who I think he is.’

  ‘Go on.’ Jackson’s forehead creased into troubled lines. He slid an untouched glass of wine away from him.

  ‘She's supposed to be joining an archaeological dig. It's the winter, sir. Who organises a new dig in the winter? Who invites somebody like Ellen, who lives alone, is vulnerable, and has little experience of professional archaeology?’

  ‘She's going out there without a chaperone?’

  ‘Alone, that’s definite.’ The space around Julianna shrank and the air was stricken with tension. The stilted conversation communicated more than words. He was processing everything she said and more.

  ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘I'm not sure, but it could be soon.’

  ‘Ring Mark. She's his sister.’

  ‘His phone is broken. He doesn’t have a landline and he’s not responding to emails either.’

  Jackson turned to face Sophia. ‘I thought you'd lined up Derek to talk to Ellen?’

  ‘She rejected Derek's offer to go to Scotland before he had a chance to make it,’ Sophia said. ‘She's adamant that this is what she wants to do. Mark's attempt at dissuading her backfired.’

  ‘What about contacting Ellen?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘I don't have her number, but…’ Julianna rummaged in her weighty handbag and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper. ‘I do have her address. Chris gave it to me. I've not had the chance to visit her. I’ve never met her.’ If she had, maybe things between Mark and his sister might be different, possibly congenial, and not requiring punch bags.

  ‘And Mark has done nothing to prevent this relationship or find out who she’s going to meet?’ Jackson’s mask of containment slipped, exposing rancour.

  ‘I don't think so.’ Julianna had unwittingly dug a big hole for Mark to fall into, but given the gravity of the situation, there was nothing she could do to mitigate it. ‘They aren't talking much. I think his mum found out about the appeal ending from Ellen, not Mark. He didn’t want to tell her until he was ready, so Ellen did the deed. I wouldn't be surprised if she relished doing it. When he found out, he smashed his phone.’

  Jackson straightened up fast, startling both Sophia and Julianna. ‘For fuck's sake, what was he waiting for?’


  ‘I don't know.’ That Mark hated talking to his mother seemed too facile an excuse to tell Jackson. Sophia twirled her finger around a gnarl of wood stain. The tips of her ears were pink. The news Julianna had delivered was ruining everyone's evening.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sophia,’ said Jackson. ‘We’ll have to celebrate your announcement another evening.’

  Something more was on the cards than a simple birthday celebration. Jackson hated time wasters. Julianna neither wanted Ellen to be at risk, nor did she want to be setting off alarm bells for no reason. She had spoilt the weekend regardless of the outcome.

  He called for Hettie, who returned child free, and drew her into his arms. ‘Something has come up. It's foundation business. It's important. I wouldn't go if it wasn't.’ He kissed her forehead.

  He fished out car keys from his coat pocket. ‘We'll take my car. Gary can pick up the one Julianna used.’

  Jackson reversed the Porsche Panamera out of the garage, flicked a switch on a remote and opened the main gates. Julianna clutched her handbag on her lap and closed her eyes. Waves of nausea penetrated, breaking down the illusion of control. This was action, wasn't it? The very thing she craved.

  ‘Calm yourself, Julianna. We’ll find her,’ Jackson said coolly. ‘Punch in her postcode.’

  The task completed, she rubbed her throbbing temples.

  ‘There’s a bottle of water in the glove compartment,’ Jackson said.

  She pressed the cool plastic to her forehead then swallowed a few mouthfuls to ease her dry throat.

  Their roles were switched. Jackson was driving her, and he was quite a smooth driver considering he preferred chauffeurs. He picked up speed, clearly prepared to risk breaking the limits.

  ‘You don’t know Ellen, so why the concern?’ Jackson asked.

  ‘Because deep down Mark cares about her. Mark had offered Ellen a home, but once Sophia uncovered the truth, they failed to support each other. They never have perhaps. Blood isn't glue. Relatives aren't always friends.’

  The traffic started to build up and Jackson hit the brakes.

  ‘You love Mark?’ The Haynes’ bluntness was notorious.

  Julianna looked out of passenger window. ‘I don’t know. I have this connection to him. My ex, you remember Alex Woodfall, he was such a self-centred git. Charming and generous with his friends, but he didn’t think of me much.’

  ‘Alex, yes, I remember him. A dickhead.’ Jackson snorted, so derisively that Julianna laughed. ‘You can do better,’ he added.

  ‘Is Mark better?’ She fingered the buttons of her jacket, treating the question as her own. ‘He makes me feel alive, I guess. I’ve really enjoyed being with him, working with him. We do stuff...’ She was probably blushing.

  ‘You could be good for him too,’ Jackson said. ‘Mark's speciality is doggedness, when correctly motivated. I suspect it comes from his mother, although he wouldn’t take kindly to that comparison.’

  ‘No, he wouldn't. I don't think his mother is dogged. More likely possessive, of him, his attention. A narcissist.’ Julianna checked the time – just past six o'clock. Ellen could have already left the country.

  They fell silent for a while, Jackson concentrating on the road. The streetlights dazzled.

  ‘Was I wrong to involve you?’ he asked. An awkward question. His face stayed in the shadows, along with his thoughts. There was nothing to read, or judge, just like when he had been in the back of the car when she had driven him and Hettie to the clinic.

  ‘You wanted me to overhear you, though, didn't you, sir? It was deliberate.’

  ‘Don't hate me for that. I think you've enjoyed finding things out. It's been useful for me too, having my suspicions confirmed; the links made concrete. I had no firm information to establish how everything fitted together. The murder and Haydocks’s downfall happened years apart, which still doesn’t make sense unless Bill… Well, that’s what you’re working on.’

  She didn’t have an answer. Had Bill really pushed Mark into Henderson’s crooked arms. If he had… poor Mark. A double blow. Then there was the matter of Jackson’s involvement – at what point had he decided to act? She hadn’t discussed any of this with Mark.

  ‘You've known since Mark joined your company, haven't you, that Haydocks laundered money for Redningsmann?’

  The shadows on Jackson’s sculptured face remained the same, unprovoked by her direct question. His voice was equally unconcerned. ‘I spoke to the police. I wanted to know if any of the clients might be linked to other businesses in the area. I’ve subsidiaries in Manchester. That name of that fraudulent client was sufficient to draw my personal attention. Mark had left Haydocks before the police could speak to him, and it served me to keep him out of the way. But I only had this one name, Redningsmann, and I knew of others.’ There was a pause while Jackson negotiated a tricky roundabout. She left it to him to break the silence.

  ‘Unfortunately, the police weren’t forthcoming due to ongoing investigations. It made sense to bring in Mark; I’d no reason to suspect him. I had recruiters pick up on ex-Haydocks employees and screen them, offer a few of the promising ones jobs. The bad apple, Henderson, shouldn’t ruin lives of good apples. Mark might have stayed at Daneswan, getting his confidence back, beavering away on minor accounts, except for what happened next. Mark bumped into Hettie, and as you well know, Chris found out about Mark’s father. You could say my curiosity spiked. You know from the conversation in the car that Hettie is aware of Mark’s connection to Haydocks, since it’s no secret and within the scope of my business to keep a watching eye on known fraudsters.’ Jackson glanced in Julianna’s direction with his sharp pair of eyes. Too sharp; she flinched. ‘But she wasn’t told about Bill.’

  Julianna had told Hettie. But Jackson went no further with his rebuke. ‘And the appeal?’ she asked.

  ‘I kept an open mind, for a while. It proved short-lived. Mark has to deal with the fallout from that too.’

  Mark was already in a bad place and they were about to make it worse. Her weekend plans were rapidly tumbling into a blackhole. She would have to show him how to punch harder without breaking his knuckles.

  What she didn’t know was part of Haynes’ past. ‘The Haydocks client was what caught your attention though, not Mark or Henderson. Redningsmann is Norwegian for deliverer.’

  Jackson nodded. ‘As I said, we know of other aliases, but that one was a new one.’ A brief smile crossed his lips. ‘Mark certainly unleashed a swarm of frightened bees at Haydocks.’

  Julianna sensed another possible wrist slapping. She had drawn somebody else into Jackson’s game. ‘I took advantage of my time alone with Sophia in the car. It’s what started… Sophia told me the witness to the murder referred to a malevolent person, the Deliverer, and I think she noticed my reaction.’

  Jackson balled his fist and smacked it on his thigh. ‘I don’t know the details of what Sophia uncovered. She’s the Clewer’s solicitor. She only told me that they’d found the witness.’ He perpetuated the silence for longer this time. ‘She doesn’t know about the threats, where they come from. I didn’t want her unintentionally revealing anything to Hettie. They’re very close. She’s going to be family.’ Jackson spoke into the glare of lights and kaleidoscopic raindrops snaking across the windscreen, his thoughts out in the open when previously he had kept them to himself. Under different circumstances, such faith in Julianna should have brought her pride. But not today. He sighed. ‘Perhaps involving her was a mistake. It’s why I needed an outsider, someone like you with no ties to my family.’

  ‘Sophia brought an end to those futile appeal attempts. In his way, Mark is grateful. She doesn’t know what makes Mark’s case special to you. I think she deserves to, because what Mark uncovered isn’t trivial.’

  ‘You’re right. This business of the Deliverer goes back further than Mark’s involvement. To when Hettie was young.’

  The last piece of the jigsaw. Between them, they were solving the puzzle. ‘I don't
want to intrude, sir. I know that she’s precious to you...’

  ‘You should know more – I dropped you into this mess. Hettie was adopted, which you know. A good family with enough money to support her creativity. She needs that outlet. When she was six, her birth mother slashed her wrists in the bath. Hettie found her.’

  The handles of the pram. Jackson had calmly reacted to the fuss, knowing the injury was superficial, and protected his wife at the hospital from intrusive questions that might reveal the real nature of her affliction.

  ‘Oh, my God. Her fear of blood—’

  ‘Yes. It's from that time. I must have appeared uncaring from where you sat. I was cross with Lara for making a poor decision about the ambulance. She’d been briefed, I thought.’

  ‘Chris informed me of the fear, but not the reason why. Perhaps Lara missed—’

  ‘Blood is the trigger,’ Jackson said sharply. ‘It doesn’t matter now. The point is, she fears the emotions it might awaken. So she protects herself by locking down – a form of catatonia. As a child she was taken into care and swiftly adopted. It helped her heal.’

  ‘I understand. Her birth mother brought her up alone?’

  ‘Divorced, alone, unsupported and a lot of debt. A hard time for them both. She got into drugs and then they came for her, the loan sharks, and forced her into prostitution. She obviously hated it. She spiralled into this darkness and took her own life. I met Hettie years later at a party. Young, vivacious. I'd no idea how fragile she was beneath that exuberance. I want to keep her safe. Always. The charity idea was one way I could help Hettie come to terms with her past. I set up Opportunitas, hoping to save people from this never-ending cycle of a life of poverty, drugs and sexual exploitation. It snowballed and became a crusade to find out who was behind these pimps, the gangs, the traffickers. The detectives I employ are successful, and consequently, I'm hated and threatened.’

  ‘Hettie doesn't know who’s behind these threats.’ A statement of fact. Julianna had seen the emails and letters including the horrific images they tried to send her. Chris's team intercepted the lot. Hettie was cocooned behind a ring of protection. Jackson's commitment to take care of his wife depended on her trust in him and a marriage built on devotion to one another. Julianna had misunderstood marriage. Love was one thing that gelled a couple, but trust and loyalty underpinned it. Alex might have loved her in the beginning, and she had loved him for a time, but neither of them had worked to build on it.