Storm and Stone

by Joss Stirling

  Isaac’s injuries were much worse than they had first thought. He had held on by sheer willpower and only let go when he knew his boys were safe. Kieran sat by his bed in the Intensive Care Unit of St Thomas’ Hospital watching the monitors with a hawk’s intensity. Internal bleeding. Swelling on the brain. Busted ribs. Fractured fingers. The only good thing about the list was that it gave them charges to slap on Kolnikov and Burnham without having to prove the more tenuous case of corruption. This was their Al Capone charge. No arguing their way out on bail with grievous bodily harm charges pressed and them both being flight risks.

  Isaac’s fingers stirred. Kieran sat up from his slump in the chair. Eyelids flickered.

  ‘Sir?’

  Blue eyes shifted to Kieran.

  ‘You still here?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘You’ve been here twenty-four hours. Are you thirsty?’ The nurse had left him with strict instructions to encourage fluids when he woke.

  ‘Like the Sahara.’

  Kieran held the straw to his lips. ‘I don’t suppose this is the right moment to mention that the Sahara has some of the largest aquifers of fresh water under its surface.’

  Isaac smiled. ‘No. It isn’t.’

  ‘Good to know.’ He put the cup back on the side.

  Isaac held his gaze for a while, content just to lie in silence. ‘I’m proud of you, Kieran,’ he said at last.

  Emotions whirled in Kieran’s stomach, mostly pleasant but with a generous pinch of embarrassment. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’ve grown up a lot during this mission.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I have.’

  ‘You know I look on you differently from the others.’

  Kieran had sensed that. Isaac had always mentioned when he felt proud of him. ‘I know that you think I’m bright.’

  Isaac closed his eyes as a twinge of pain ran through him. ‘It’s not just about you doing the job but … ’ he coughed. ‘I look on you like a son because that’s how I think of you.’

  ‘Just how many drugs have they put you on, sir?’

  ‘Not enough.’ Isaac smiled. ‘I’m serious. Ever since I recruited you, I thought, that’s one fine boy whom no one has cared for. I decided I’d step up to the plate.’

  ‘I … I … ’ How did you respond to that kind of admission? ‘Thank you. You’ve done a great job. Always been there.’

  Isaac frowned. ‘It doesn’t mean I’m going to let you off easy—no favouritism. You follow the same rules as everyone else.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.’

  ‘You broke them, resuming your relationship with Raven.’

  ‘Ah. Yeah, about that … ’

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘I see. I can’t say I’m sorry.’

  ‘We have rules for a purpose. The YDA demands sacrifices. You were told that when you joined.’

  ‘Yes. Yes I was.’ Now wasn’t the time for long explanations or pleading. For now he was just relieved Isaac was conscious. ‘Do you need anything, sir? Shall I call a nurse? I’ll see if I can find a pretty one to tuck you in.’

  ‘Bugger off, Kieran. Get some rest.’ Isaac’s lips stayed curved in a smile as he drifted off to sleep, as Kieran had intended.

  Kieran got up and stretched, conscious he had been wearing the same clothes for days and not eaten or drunk properly. He went to the window, taking in the view of the Houses of Parliament on the other side of the river. Joe had been left with Mrs Bain’s phone, so now he had nothing on which to contact anyone and was reliant on the next visitor from the YDA to bring him some money and a change of kit. He wondered what Raven was doing. She was probably catching up on her sleep and trying to figure out what exactly had been happening in her school. He wished he had a way of messaging her. He still didn’t know what he was going to do about her. It looked like it was going to come down to a choice after all: the YDA or her.

  ‘How is he?’ Nat stood at the door with a holdall and a take-away cup.

  ‘Much better than twelve hours ago. There were a scary few hours when it looked like he was dipping into a coma, but he’s conscious. He’s just sleeping now.’

  ‘I’m taking over from you. Your orders are to go to HQ and rest.’

  ‘Is Joe back?’

  ‘Yes, arrived yesterday. Hardly seen him, though, as he’s been in meetings with the mentors. I think they’re sorting through the international network those people had put in place. He says it’s likely they’ll miss a few of the guilty but you’ve made a great start rounding them up.’

  Kieran drank the tea Nat had brought him. ‘Did he say how the students at the school were?’

  ‘Said they were being looked after by social services.’

  ‘Did he mention a girl—a friend of ours, called Raven?’

  Nat shook his head. ‘No. In fact, he was very quiet about what happened to him—not his usual life-and-soul self. I think the drugs and the near-death experience has shaken him up more than he lets on. Anyway, who’s Raven?’

  ‘She’s the one who helped save Isaac.’

  Nat settled in the chair to take over the vigil. ‘There seem to be quite a few gaps in what he’s said then. You’d best go talk to him.’

  Kieran found Joe in the meeting room with the mentors in charge of the four groups of the YDA. Rivers was there, leading the session with the usual cut-to-the-chase energy expected of the head of the Wolves; Jan, the mentor for Cats, was making notes, doing a great job of blending into the background, assessing what was said. Taylor Flint, the leader of the Cobras, never seen less than sharply dressed, was flipping through a file of photos on his tablet computer, looking for matches on the international wanted list to the men the trustees had employed. Dr Waterburn was tapping away at her laptop as usual, probably doing most of the actual work thanks to her analysis of the links between the main players.

  ‘Key, I’m glad you’ve come,’ Joe said. ‘I’m hazy on some of the details about the manor. I think I may have missed a couple of the guys they had working security.’

  Kieran sat down. ‘I’ll see what I can add.’

  Jan Hardy checked her watch. ‘To be frank, Kieran, you look like death warmed up. Maybe this should wait until tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, let’s call time, ladies and gentleman.’ Rivers rose, closing his file. ‘Good work everyone. I take it that Isaac is doing better if you are here?’

  ‘Yes, yes he is, enough to tell me to bugger off.’

  The mentors laughed.

  ‘Good to hear.’ Rivers took a step towards the door.

  ‘Sir, just a moment, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The girl who helped us—Raven Stone. I asked Isaac a few weeks ago if we can bring her on board.’

  Joe’s face broke into a huge smile. ‘Great idea! You should’ve told me!’

  He hadn’t because Isaac’s response had not been encouraging.

  ‘What did he say?’ asked Rivers.

  ‘He was thinking about it, but … ’

  ‘Then let’s wait for his decision. She certainly showed potential.’

  ‘So can I contact her, tell her what’s going on?’

  Rivers shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. What if Isaac decides no?’

  ‘But I can’t just leave her wondering what happened to me—to us.’

  Mrs Hardy sighed. ‘So that’s what this is about. Send her some flowers to hold her over until you can talk to Isaac. We’ll pay.’

  Kieran didn’t think that was good enough. ‘I’ll pay for my own flowers, thanks.’

  ‘Just follow orders, Mr Storm,’ said Rivers in a formal tone. ‘You don’t want to risk her recruitment by blowing it too early and, if she’s to remain outside, you wouldn’t want to break the rules, would you, by resuming contact?’

  Kieran swore under his breath. ‘No, sir.’

  The magnificent bouquet of tiger lilies was still blooming when Raven and her granddad
had to move out of their cottage. It was scary heading out with nowhere to go. Her grandfather had made a booking with a bed and breakfast to tide them over, but they couldn’t afford to keep that arrangement for long.

  ‘What do you want to do with these?’ he asked her, taking a final look round the kitchen, emptying the vase water down the sink.

  Raven thought sadly of their packed car. When she had first received the flowers she had been so excited, but then there had been no more word from Kieran. It was like he had dropped off the face of the earth. Perhaps he had meant them as a farewell, his ‘lots of love’ message on the little white card a kind of goodbye. She should be used to people walking out and not coming back by now, but it hurt worse each time.

  ‘Put them in the bin. We can’t take them with us.’

  ‘I could squeeze them in somehow.’

  ‘No, no. I’ve got to face up to the fact that some things I can’t take with me.’ Like her hopes about Kieran. She snapped off one bloom to press as a keepsake, the rest she added to the compost heap at the side of the house.

  Her grandfather shut the door to the cottage for the last time. ‘When do you start work tomorrow?’

  She had found a job sweeping up and washing hair at a local hairdresser’s. It catered for older clientele, who seemed a sweet bunch of ladies, but Raven was already feeling the prison of low paid work shutting its doors on her as she faced her first day.

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘That’s good.’ There was a lot neither of them was saying: the fact that Robert hadn’t even got an interview for any job he had applied for, and that Raven would not be able to do her A levels for the foreseeable future if she became the main breadwinner.

  ‘It’s going to work out, Granddad,’ she vowed. She was going to wrestle their future into submission somehow if it didn’t want to come quietly.

  They headed out of the drive, not sorry to leave such an unhappy place behind them.

  ‘So Mrs Pritchard, are you going anywhere on vacation this year?’ Raven asked her fourth client of the day. There appeared to be some disturbance at the front of the shop, but over by the basins she couldn’t see what was going on. A Cut Above was busy as Monday was the pensioners’ special rate, the entrance crammed with shopper trolleys and two mobility scooters blocking the pavement.

  ‘Already been, love. Had a lovely holiday with my sister in Bournemouth.’

  ‘That sounds nice.’

  ‘They do a very good tea dance at the hotel.’

  ‘Great. I like dancing.’

  ‘So do I! I was a champion at the jitterbug in my heyday.’

  ‘Really?’ She smiled down at the lady with new respect. ‘I bet you were something.’

  ‘I was a real goer.’

  Raven chuckled. OK, she could do this. If her job meant meeting with surprises like this old lady, then it wouldn’t be as mind numbing as she had feared.

  ‘I’m good at dancing too. I want to do it at college one day.’

  ‘I wish you luck with that. Hard to get into the business, isn’t it? Lots of young girls want a place and so few to go round.’

  Depressing much? ‘Yes, I guess that’s true. Still someone has to make it. I won’t if I don’t try.’

  ‘That’s the spirit.’

  Another client took the seat at the basin behind her.

  ‘Raven, when you’ve finished with Mrs Pritchard, can you do our next customer?’ called the owner.

  ‘Sure, Mrs Ward.’ Raven wrapped a towel around the jitterbug champion’s head. ‘There you are, Mrs Pritchard: ready for Julie.’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’ Mrs Pritchard walked away with a little skip in her step.

  Raven turned to the next in the queue and found Kieran sitting in the seat behind her.

  ‘Oh my God, what are you doing here?’ She inadvertently sprayed water over both of them.

  ‘Having a shower it would seem. Hello, Raven.’

  ‘But you can’t … I mean, I’m working.’

  ‘So I can see. I’m your next customer. I’ve booked myself in for something called a shampoo, cut, and blow dry. Aren’t you supposed to wash my hair?’

  Raven could feel Mrs Ward’s eyes on her. It was only her first day on the job after all. ‘OK then. Lie back.’ She sprayed water over the crown of his head. Why had he come? Total radio silence and here he was—she would be outraged if she wasn’t so pleased to see him.

  ‘I’ve been thinking of getting a haircut for a while now. You see, I’m not sure how to tell you, but there’s this girl I want to impress. Someone new in my life.’

  She massaged flowery shampoo into his scalp a little too hard. ‘Oh yes?’ She hated her, whoever she was. So he’d come to tell her he was moving on, had he? He was leaving the salon with a crew cut. Or a frizzy perm. A shaved crown.

  He looked up at her and smiled, giving away that he was teasing. ‘She’s amazing. Saved lots of lives the other night.’

  She gentled her touch. ‘Did she? I can’t believe that. She’s a disaster normally. How’s Isaac?’

  ‘It was dicey for a while but he’s pulled through.’

  ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Gave me permission to come talk to you.’

  ‘You needed permission?’

  ‘I did.’

  Raven checked the spray was the right temperature on her wrist then began to rinse his hair. Their eyes met, his upside down. She smiled, beginning to hope that everything was going to work out after all. ‘You don’t need a haircut to impress me. Saving us all from the bad guys kinda did it.’ She began on the conditioner.

  His mouth curled into a contented smile and he closed his eyes. ‘I could lie here all day with you doing that.’

  She let her fingers wander over his scalp—all that brain power literally under her fingers, but more importantly, all that made Kieran who he was. ‘Now that would really get me the sack.’

  ‘Good, because I’ve come with an offer—for you and your granddad.’

  ‘What kind of offer?’

  ‘If you’d just rinse the soap off, I’ll explain.’

  Feeling responsible to her new employer and aware everyone was listening, Raven had to wait until the end of her shift to hear his offer, so Kieran decided to go ahead with the trim. Mrs Ward turned out to be fully capable of styling the hair of handsome young men as well as white-haired old ladies and made a huge fuss of him. The elderly customers were tickled pink to be sharing the mirrors with Raven’s beau, as they called him. He charmed them all by displaying his knowledge of Big Band music of the forties and fifties—something Raven had not known he had studied.

  Then again, she should not be surprised. This was Kieran after all.

  Mrs Pritchard sighed as she paid her bill. ‘Your young man reminds me of my Jim.’ She leant closer. ‘You keep hold of him, love.’

  ‘I hope I can,’ Raven said, helping Mrs Pritchard into her coat.

  She tied a scarf over her head to protect her newly set hair. ‘He looks at you as if he could eat you up, so I don’t think you’ll have any problem doing that.’

  Once the cut was complete, Kieran waited for Raven outside the shop to walk her back to her bed and breakfast. Mrs Ward shooed her out of the salon five minutes early, wishing her a pleasant afternoon with a twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘You’re all mine now, are you?’ Kieran said, giving her the kiss that had been waiting for her.

  ‘Yes.’ And she was. Face buried in his wonderful Kieran-scented jacket, Raven knew that whatever came out of this conversation, she was his, totally and hopelessly his.

  They held hands, enjoying strolling together along the high street.

  ‘Nice to have no one shooting at us,’ she said as she caught their reflection in the chemist’s window.

  ‘It’s the simple things in life,’ he said solemnly, making her laugh.

  ‘So what’s this offer?’

  ‘You know I work for Isaac?’

  ‘Yes, I kinda worked that one out
for myself.’

  Kieran brushed her knuckles with his thumb. ‘He runs a training college in London for young people with a flair for crime detection. The organization then sponsors us through university and we then either graduate and work for the YDA, or go into other branches of law enforcement. The agency is his brainchild, really, as he realized there was no formal training path for investigators like there is for the military or ordinary police work.’

  ‘That’s what brought you and Joe to Westron?’

  ‘Yes. We were on a job.’

  ‘So Isaac said.’

  ‘Our agency keeps a low profile. Not secret but we don’t advertise. It makes us more useful if we can go in without people knowing we’re there.’

  ‘So how do you get to join?’

  ‘Invitation only. And this is one.’

  ‘One what?’

  ‘Invitation. Though it’s two really, as Isaac says we could do with a caretaker. We’ve had some incidents of tampering in bathrooms; he thinks a proper caretaker rather than contract cleaners would keep a lid on such behaviour.’

  ‘Kieran, you aren’t making a very good job of this.’

  ‘Am I being too obscure again?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘All right, let me try again.’ He dipped down and kissed her. ‘There, I feel better now. Though I’m still not sure what you are going to say when you hear my offer.’

  ‘Kieran, the suspense is killing me.’

  The familiar little frown between his brows appeared—his brain noticing an illogicality. ‘You do know that suspense isn’t actually something that kills a person, unless you mean suspend, as in hanging.’

  ‘Kieran Storm, enough Oxford English Dictionary corrections, thank you.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You have something really important to tell me?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Then go for it.’

  He grinned. ‘You passed the entry test.’

  ‘I didn’t know I took a test.’