by Clare Revell
Abbie tugged her arm. “I’ll just go home.”
“You can’t. There’s no one there to look after you.”
Abbie put her hands on her hips. “I’m not a baby, I’m nearly fourteen. That’s almost old enough to babysit someone else now.”
Eleanor shook her head. The neighborhood wasn’t the best. She couldn’t leave Abbie alone.
One of the waiters crossed over to them. “I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s a man at bar asking for Lisa.”
Zeke scowled. “Tell him she’s busy.”
Eleanor glared at Zeke not caring whether she got fired or not, and took Abbie’s hand. “You’ll tell him no such thing. Come on, Abbie. Let’s go see who it is.”
The tall dark haired man leaning against the bar was the last person she expected to see. Relief flooded her. Concern filled Patrick’s eyes as she reached him. He set his glass of water down and took three steps to meet them.
“What’s wrong?” His low voice tinged with alarm.
“That man was horrid to Ellie. He won’t let me stay here. Says he’s going to fire her if I do, but Mum’s out and Ellie has to work and I’m ‘too young’ to be left alone. I don’t want her to get fired because of me.” Abbie huffed the words and rolled her eyes. Normally Eleanor would attempt to staunch the blatant show of disrespect for any elder...but Zeke wasn’t really respectable. Now with her anger cooling, Abbie began to sniff as silent tears began to fall.
Patrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue, giving it to Abbie. He looked at Eleanor. “He said what?”
She tried to control the tremble in her own voice. “He said Abbie couldn’t be here because Jake would lose his license, but he’s done it for other people in the past as a one off. Just not me.”
“Jake?”
“Jake Reid. He’s the manager.”
“He owns this place?”
“No idea, but he’s bent the rules for others. Just won’t do it for me.”
“I’ll take her.” His tone was firm and decisive.
“I can’t ask you to do that.” Even if it would solve the problem for now.
“You didn’t ask. I offered.” He smiled at her then looked at Abbie. “Are you too old for Disney films?”
“No,” she sniffled. “Some of them are pretty neat. Ellie likes them. So you’re never too old.”
“Have you seen the new one?”
“No. I’m the only one in my class who hasn’t.”
“In that case, would you like to come see it with me? If Elle doesn’t mind, that is?”
Abbie looked at Eleanor then back at Patrick. “I’m not supposed to go anywhere with strange men.”
“And that’s very sensible. But I’m not a stranger. You know me from church, and I’m a longtime friend of your sister.”
Abbie looked at him long and hard before she turned to her. “We don’t have to tell Mum I’ve gone to the cinema, and then you don’t get fired because of me.”
Eleanor hesitated. Was this really the best option? It was the only one she had that much was certain. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Zeke glowering. She sucked in a deep breath, and then nodded. “OK. Just this one time. Just don’t let Mum find out. She’ll have my guts for garters.”
Abbie flung her arms around her tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. I really don’t like this place anyway.”
Eleanor hugged her back. “Enough of the thank yous,” she whispered. “Go, have fun.”
Patrick wrote his address on a serviette and handed it to her. “Come pick her up when you finish here.”
“Thank you.” She took the paper and slid it inside her dress. “It’ll be about half ten or so. Later if Mr. F comes in and wants entertaining again.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Mr. F?”
She shook her head. She didn’t mean what he probably thought, but either way she wasn’t going to explain in front of Abbie.
Patrick nodded curtly, something akin to irritation flickering in his eyes before he masked it. “No problem. Come on then, Abbie.”
Eleanor watched them go and sighed. Being around a male figure would do Abbie the world of good. Something within her glowed at the thought of the two of them together. If only…
“Now the kid’s gone, how about doing some work?” Zeke’s harsh voice jerked her back to reality.
****
Patrick sat watching TV quietly. He and Abbie had had a great time. It was incredible how much like Elle she was. The same turn of phrase, even the way she flicked her hair to one side. He wondered if their dad had blue eyes, as that was the one main difference between the two sisters and he knew her mother didn’t.
A light tap at the front door had him on his feet. He went to open it. Elle stood there, shivering slightly in her light jacket.
“Hey, come in.”
“Thank you.”
He shut the door behind her. “How did it go after we left?”
“It went all right, same as any other night. Sorry I’m late. How’s Abbie?” She glanced around as if expecting her to appear, despite the hour.
“She’s fast asleep on the couch. I think I wore her out. Can I get you some coffee?”
“I should really get her home, but since it’s not a school night, coffee would be good, thank you. Just a quick one.”
He smiled. “Come on through to the kitchen.”
“I just want to check on Abbie first.”
He nodded to the lounge. “She’s in there.”
By the time Elle appeared again, he’d made the coffee. He held out a cup. “Here you go. It’s instant, but tastes just as good. Did you keep your job?
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He didn’t say another word to me after you left, apart from summoning me to a meeting tomorrow at nine thirty with Jake.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“No.” She took a deep breath, and sipped the hot liquid. “I sing for Abbie...” She broke off.
Surprise filled him. “For your sister?”
A cute red blush spread over her cheeks, tinting the tips of her ears. “Yeah. So we have enough money for clothes and books for her. Mum never worked outside the house. Since dad died, there’s not much money coming in, and Abbie rarely gets treats.”
“Ah. That explains her enthusiasm for the movie. She loved the film. I bought her popcorn and soda. I hope that’s all right with you.” He gave a little grimace as an afterthought.
She smiled wryly. “It’s a bit late to ask.”
Patrick sipped his coffee. “True.”
“But yeah, it’s fine.”
“She said it’d be all right with you. When I asked what her mother would say, she shrugged and said you’d say yes and wished you were her mother, not her sister.”
“Oh.” She studied the coffee intently, her voice cracking. “What did you say?”
His senses triggered a full alert. There was more going on here than she was letting on. The only problem was, he couldn’t see the wood for the trees right now. She so filled his senses, that it made thinking almost impossible. “I told her that she may not always get along with her mum, but she’d always love her.”
Elle nodded. “Yeah, she will. Unconditionally.”
He smiled. “It’s actually amazing how much she looks like you. She even flicks her hair the same way that you do.”
She ran her finger around the rim of the cup. “Does she?”
“She’s a lot like you, apart from the eyes. Yours are brown and hers are blue.”
She chewed on her bottom lip, fingers tightening on the cup. “It happens. Something to do with genes. I’m not going to pretend I understand.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He studied her over the top of his coffee. “Look, I know going out with you was a long time ago, and a lot of time has passed, but my feelings towards you haven’t changed.” He had to say it before he found himself too distracted.
She put the cup down. “I can’t.”
&nbs
p; “Can’t what?”
“Go out with you. Be seen with you. Talk about this.”
“Why not? Elle, I need to know what I did to hurt you so I can put it right.”
As he watched, the shutters came down again.
“Thank you for having Abbie, but I have to go. I need to get her home before Mum wonders where we are.”
Patrick stood dumbfounded as Elle woke Abbie and left. Something was very wrong there, but what? And more to the point, what could he do to help? She could run as much as she wanted, but he had too many unanswered questions that needed an answer before he could do what she apparently wanted, and leave her alone.
5
Eleanor tapped nervously on the office door. Nine thirty on the dot.
“Come in.”
She wiped her hand on her jeans and opened the door. Shooting the three men in the room her best smile, she entered. Zeke and Jake she’d been expecting, but what was PJ doing there?
“Shut the door. Sit down.”
Zeke glowered at her from where he sat, and she hesitantly did as she was told. Her gaze went from him to the other man. PJ seemed different from the last time she’d seen him. Ice glittered in his eyes, his body was stiff and his hands clenched on the desk, fingers of one hand drumming.
Jake looked at her. “Eleanor, I believe you know PJ. He owns HC1. He heard about the incident last night.”
“Oh….”
PJ scowled. “Explain last night. You brought a child into my club.”
“That child was my sister. As I tried to explain, I had no one to leave her with, and I couldn’t just fail to turn up here last night. I need the money, and I didn’t want to let anyone down by not singing.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk, the incessant noise grating on her nerves. “You know the rules?”
“I do. No one is allowed in the club under the age of eighteen.”
“Why is that?”
She squirmed under his glower. “Because the legal drinking age in the UK is eighteen, and you could lose your license if the police found someone underage here, or someone reported you.”
PJ leaned across the desk. “Yet you assumed that rule didn’t apply to you.”
“I’m sorry. Some of the others had done it in the past, and I thought—”
He jumped to his feet, the chair flying into the wall behind him making Eleanor jump in fright. “I don’t pay you to think! Nor do I pay you to do what the others do.” He looked at Jake. “Find out who they were and get them in here. Now! And both of you get out and leave us.”
Zeke and Jake both scrambled from the room, the door slamming behind him.
PJ moved over to Eleanor. He put an arm either side of her chair preventing her from moving and shoved his face into hers. “Now what do I do with you?”
“I’m…I’m sorry…” She could almost taste the fear flooding her. Her heart raced, her stomach churned. She flinched as he moved closer.
“Sorry. Doesn’t. Cut. It.” He spat each word individually. Fire replaced the ice in his narrowed eyes, his brow furrowed, and rage poured from every sinew. “I should sack you right here and right now.”
“Please, don’t…” She looked at him, hypnotized by his gaze, despite her fear. “I need the money.”
His hand ran up her arm. “What would you be prepared to do?” he asked.
“Depends on what you want…” Her voice shook.
“I know things about you, Eleanor. Things you’d rather keep hidden. You do something for me and not only do you keep your job, but those things stay hidden. And your little sister stays safe and warm at home with her mum.”
Her heart stopped. How could he know? Was he lying? How could she be sure, but she couldn’t take the chance. Especially if Abbie would be safe if she did this. “What…” Her tongue nervously flicked over her lips. “What do you want me to do?”
He returned to the other side of his desk. He righted his chair and sat, smiling at her. “You know where the Moat House Hotel is?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
He withdrew a large envelope from the desk drawer. “Take this. I want you to deliver it, in person, to the gentleman in room 624 at two o’clock this afternoon. Wait while he checks it, then return here with the package he gives you.”
She took the envelope. What was the catch? “That’s it? A simple mail drop?”
“For now. If it goes well, there may be others. You could earn a little bonus, as well. Go, run along. See you later.”
****
The next three days, Patrick spent immersed in a case that drained him both emotionally and physically. A terrorist threat to the UK left him barely enough time to eat or sleep, never mind anything else. Everyone in the unit had gone home at least once to sleep apart from him. He’d lived at his desk, even dozed there. The pile of spare clothes from his locker had been depleted, and the only time he left his desk was to chase a lead or make use of the work showers.
This was precisely why he didn’t have a life outside of work. Never had and never would.
Finally, just after ten o’clock on Thursday morning, he got the lead they needed.
“Are you sure about this?” Shay yelled dashing after him.
“My source places him in the Hyacinth Street Mall and says that is the intended target. If we don’t move now it’s going to be too late.”
More running footsteps joined him as the rest of the unit pounded down the stairs. He unlocked the car from halfway across the garage and, in the same fluid movement, caught the Kevlar jacket someone tossed him. “Thanks. I’m driving.”
“You drive like a maniac,” Shay told him bluntly.
“If you drive, we’ll either get there tomorrow or once half the town’s been blown to kingdom come.”
“Fine, you drive. But I’m not paying your speeding fine.”
Patrick jumped in the car, starting it almost at the same time. “Not going to get one. And even if I did, Nahum would sort it.”
He shoved the car into reverse and swung out of the parking space and away, leaving rubber on the concrete. He was dimly aware of Shay hanging on tightly as he wove his way in and out of the traffic, praying the whole time that the lights would stay in his favor, the police wouldn’t pull him over, and, most of all, that they would arrive in time.
Screeching into the loading bay outside the mall, he jumped from the car, and ran inside. A security guard approached him and he pulled out his ID. “MI5. I need you to start an organized evacuation of the entire building. Now. Preferably without causing a panic.”
Not waiting for an answer, he moved inside the building. The place was a maze of shops, corridors, and staircases.
If someone was going to blow this up, it would have to be some place central to get as many people as possible, or somewhere strategic to maximize the damage.
He turned slowly, scanning the crowd of shoppers.
The tannoy crackled into life.
“Your attention, please. The mall is now closing due to an electrical fault in one of the shops. Please make your way to the nearest exit. Thank you.”
A flash of light caught his eye and he spun around. “Up there.” He pointed to the second of five floors and dashed to the stairs. Moving against the tide was almost impossible. The stairs were jammed with people trying to leave.
A gunshot echoed, causing panic. The orderly evacuation turned into a screaming mass of humanity heading to the exits, not caring who they trampled on in the process.
Patrick reached the upper level, and pulled his gun from its holster. He held it ready to fire as he approached the man on the edge of the gallery.
The man’s coat stood open, explosives strapped to his body. One arm snaked tightly around a terrified shopper’s neck, holding her against his side. In that hand he held the detonator, in the other he had a gun pointed at a security guard. His hands shook, sweat beaded his brow and he appeared to be muttering something under his breath.
Aware of everyone around him a
nd the number of civilians still milling around and panicking, Patrick wasn’t going to wait for the order to come. The guy was a threat and he had hostages.
“Put the gun down,” Patrick ordered, taking charge. “We have you surrounded.”
The man looked at him with cold, dark eyes.
He’d seen intent like that once before and spent the next week in hospital recovering.
Patrick sucked in a deep breath. “Put the gun and the detonator down. You don’t want to do this.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you willing to take the risk?”
From the corner of his eye, Patrick could see two other agents taking aim. “Are you? I can guarantee you I’m a better shot than you are and I’m faster. Your finger so much as twitches on that detonator and you’ll die. Is that what you want?”
“I’m ready to die.”
“What about all these people?” Patrick kept his aim straight. “And the rest of the town?”
The gunman laughed. “You think I care what happens to this town? The whole point of this bomb is that there will be no more town.”
Patrick held his gaze. “Shouldn’t they get a choice? What about the woman there? What’s her name?”
Nice one the voice crackled in his ear piece. Try to keep him talking.
“Stacey,” the woman whispered.
“Will you ask Stacey if she’s OK?”
The gunman looked at her. “Are you OK?”
The security guard moved towards him. The gunman swiftly turned and fired, sending him to the floor.
In the same moment, Patrick fired, his bullet neutralizing the gunman who landed on his back, the detonator falling from his hand. He knew the order, had he waited, would have been to kill, but he preferred to shoot to wound. Besides, this way they stood a chance of finding out why and who else he was working with.
Keeping the gun on him, Patrick moved swiftly, kicking the gun and detonator to one side. “Get the bomb squad up here, now. Next shot kills, so I’d keep very, very still if I were you.”
The woman knelt where she had fallen, shaking and crying. One of the other agents gently helped her to her feet and led her away.
