“As it was intended. I’m sorry, I tend to blabber on when I’m nervous. I am glad you wanted to come out with me. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been out like this.”
“Me too. Back home I fell into a rut of working practically every day. No time to socialise when you’re the only waitress on the beach.”
“Where did you work?” He asked, leaning forward, his arms crossed on the table.
“June’s beach bar. It was more of a café really. So small and filled with sand, you could only fit about eight tables in there,” I laughed. “It’s the usual job for people my age in the village. In my part of Cornwall, pretty much everything is right by the sea. So, most jobs are on the beach.”
“What was it like to live there? I bet it’s fantastic to live by the beach.”
“It was okay. Living so close to the sea seemed to concentrate the storms and cold. Sometimes we got wind so strong, it felt like it would blow the house over. Luckily we lived in a valley which sheltered us. What about you? You’re from Scotland, aren’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, just below, in Carlisle. It’s a few miles below the border. I wasn’t as organised with a job as you though.”
“You didn’t have a job? How did you earn money, rich family?” I laughed.
He shrugged, his face closing slightly. “My Dad didn’t want me to work.”
I looked at him, waiting for him to continue when the waiter brought our food. The burgers didn’t remotely look like the take out I was used to. The bun looked homemade and the chips were stacked neatly in a tower. An arrangement of sauces was placed between us in miniature individual dishes.
“Wow, this is posh,” I whispered. I picked up my fork not knowing if I was expected to use it to eat the burger with.
Ash looked as clueless as I did. “Tell you what, I’ll use my hands if you do.”
I grinned back, as we both put our cutlery down and scooped our burgers up.
“So,” I said, through a mouthful of food, “your Dad didn’t want you to work? Why?”
He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I told you that my family were all military?”
I nodded.
“Well, my Dad didn’t think I had time to work. I had training almost every day of the week. With that and college, there really was no time.”
“He didn’t want you to come to uni?”
He huffed as he took another bite. I waited while he finished chewing. “He flipped. I was so careful sending out applications. I asked my mates Mam if I could use their address. I left out the parental support section on the forms. I explained to my tutors at college that it was secret. Everything was hidden from him.”
“How did he find out?”
“He didn’t find out about the applications. The rejections came through online, they were easy to hide. But, when the acceptance for Terram came through, he blew.” He gulped back his drink and held up his hand for a refill. “He didn’t believe me when I said I hadn’t applied there. I was telling the truth, I hadn’t.”
“Neither had I,” I said.
“Anyway, he wouldn’t let up. I had to get out.”
“You mean, you left right there and then?”
“Had to. I heard him while I was in my room. He was calling in his base. He was shipping me off the next morning. I had to get out or I would be sat in an army barracks right now.”
“But, he couldn’t force you to enlist. Why did he push you so much if you didn’t want to?”
He looked away, examining the sculpture beside us. “I’ve no evidence and he’s never been evaluated. But, ever since I can remember, he’s been obsessed. He told me the stories of when he was in combat. The things he saw, and had to do. I think he knows how to hide it from his command, but at home, at times he seems deranged. Like some part of him thinks he’s still out there, fighting. Something in him got knocked loose while he was out there, and it’s just waiting to pick the fight right back up again.”
He laughed, shaking his head. His fingers plucked at the chips, ripping them apart on his plate.
“You know, I used to love the idea of being in the military. I joined the cadets the moment I turned twelve. I was going to follow the family tradition.” He paused and pushed some of the food around his plate. “Then I saw who my Dad really was; the way he would bark orders at my brothers and my Mum. How we trained. When I joined the cadets, I was already advanced in every area.”
“He wanted to prepare you for what you wanted to do.”
He shook his head. “I mean, I was really advanced. Nothing was a challenge. They said I was a natural, that I was made for that life. They were half right. I was made for that life, by my Dad. He made me become what he wanted. He forced me into all those wrestling and martial arts clubs, the training routines, just so that I would become what he needed me to be. I never had a choice.”
“Now you do.”
“None of us do really. We’re all trapped. We’re just trapped in a comfortable box.”
I couldn’t disagree. Although I had been enjoying my time training to be one of the Consummate, I never felt like I would ever have the freedom to choose.
“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I said, gripping his hand.
He gripped back. “I’m the one who’s sorry. My Dad’s a great guy really. He just needs help. Unfortunately, he’s also brilliant at hiding the fact he needs help, so probably won’t get any.” He shrugged and smiled. “Ignore me, I tend to get a little frustrated when I talk about back home.”
“Then we won’t talk about it.”
“Agreed. Tell me about your family,” he said, smiling brightly.
I shrugged. “They’re your everyday family. My Mum and Dad are teachers. My sister, Lynette, is two years younger than me. She wants to be a surfing instructor.”
“Awesome. Do you surf?” He looked enthralled.
I laughed. “Not well. I’ve tried it, but to be honest, I don’t like being that far out in the water. I prefer body boarding.”
“I’ve never done that.” His eye lit up at the thought of something new.
“Then you should, providing you can swim?”
He shrugged. “Of course I can,” he said, in mock offence. “I’ll make you a deal?
“What deal?”
“You take me body boarding, I’ll teach you how to get through the physical training.”
“You’re already teaching me how to get through the physical training,” I said, throwing a chip at him. He caught it and put it in his mouth.
“That’s true. I guess it’s a deal then.”
“Talk about manoeuvring yourself into position,” I said, picking up my burger for another bite.
“Best way to get to know you.”
“You think you know me?” I teased.
He threw another chip in his mouth. “Getting there. I’ve got most of you clued up now.”
“Oh yeah, like how? Tell me about me.” I sat back in my chair, grinning.
“Let’s see, you’re smart.”
“In comparison to what?”
“Alright. You’re not used to having lots of friends around you. But, you’re completely loyal.”
My grin fell. “How did you know I don’t have many friends?” He was right. Back home, the friends I did have, I never spent time with. My life there was spent at work.
“Didn’t have friends,” He corrected. “Easy, you don’t know how to accept help. You’re uncomfortable with the idea of people doing nice things for you. Basically, you’re independent to a fault.”
“To a fault?”
“You put more pride into your accomplishments than you do possessions.” He leaned toward me and winked. “That’s one of the best things about you in my opinion.”
“How the heck did you come up with that?” I laughed.
“Your room,” he said, plainly. “It’s so spartan; it might as well be a prison cell.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. You have an unhealt
hy addiction to coffee. Though, I blame Owen for that.”
I held my hand over my mouth to muffle the laugh. Strange as it was, he had me spot on.
“You’re right. You do know me. Guess I need to be more observant with you.”
“You can ask me anything,” He encouraged.
I took another bite from my burger, considering his proposition. I did want to know more about him, but as the burning pit of jealousy still churned, I didn’t want to sound like any of the other girls he had asked out. I wiped my hands clean as a question came to me.
“What’s your favourite season?”
He laughed. “Season? Okay, I guess, Winter. It’s darker for longer, clear crisp skies to see the stars.”
“Football or rugby?”
“Rugby.”
“Rock or pop?”
“Rock, of course.” He grinned, as I fired questions at him.
“Name one possession you couldn’t live without.”
“Ooh, you’re good at this,” he laughed.
“You said anything.”
He reached forward and took my hand, staring at the sculpture beside us as he thought.
“I’m presuming you mean after clothing and shoes to wear?”
I nodded.
“Then, I think I will have to say, nothing. I can honestly say, there’s nothing I own that I couldn’t live without. What about you?”
My lip pouted. I was doing so well on the questions.
“Oh, now I’m just going to sound materialistic.”
“Ha, no you won’t. What’s your best possession?”
I rubbed his thumb with mine, self-consciously. “My hag stone.”
He looked at me confused.
“It’s a stone with a hole going all the way through. The hole has to be natural, worn there by sea water.”
“Why do you like it so much? Isn’t the beach full of them?”
“No, they’re really rare. Me and my sister always looked for them when we were kids. Never found one. Then, one evening, I was really upset after finding out my Nana was ill. I went to sit on the beach. I had my feet in the surf, just as the tide was washing in. I was thinking about her and how I just wished she would get better. Next thing, I look down and my hag stone rolls in with the tide. It came to settle literally between my feet.”
“Sorry about your Nana.”
“Don’t be. She’s fine. It was hit and miss, but she pulled through. That’s why I love that hag stone, I think. They’re supposed to bring you good luck.”
He laughed.
“I know, I don’t really believe in that stuff either, but, I picked it up hoping my Nana would get better. Next day, we got a call saying she was on the mend. I’ve kept it with me ever since.”
“You’ll have to show it to me.”
“I will,” I smiled.
The restaurant around us was busy in conversation. I looked around to see couples and friends, all sat in candlelit pairs. I turned to the sculpture beside us as I chewed. The wooden horse was nailed to the wall, its wheeled feet hanging beneath it. I peered through the cracks and saw the hollow insides. Tiny wooden carved figures stood inside. Each one was holding a miniature sword.
“Different choice of decoration, isn’t it?” Ash said, watching me inspect the sculpture.
“It’s a fascinating story. To go to all the trouble of creating such a massive horse, just to trick the enemy. They must have been determined.”
“Good strategy. Get your opponent to relax. Let them think they have the upper hand, while you secretly position yourself exactly where you need to be.”
“All that training does come in handy,” I smiled. “But, to be fooled by a giant horse?”
“You’ve got to think about it from the perspective of the time. It was a bold move, but more importantly, an unexpected one. How were the Trojans to know that the Greeks had hidden inside ready to kill them all? They thought it was an offering to their goddess.”
I sat back and gaped. “How do you know so much about everything? First astronomy, and now Greek mythology?”
“Like I said, I wanted to be someone other than my Dad. So, I studied.” He pointed back toward the sculpture. “It’s all the same really, historical warfare and today. It’s all about deception and manipulation. One side makes a move to see what the other side does. Neither show their full hand. It builds and builds in strength until one side finally snaps and attacks with a fully formed plan.”
My body froze as I considered his theory. “It’s always the same? In every situation?”
“More or less. If there’s two opposing sides who want to take over the other, history shows that they pretty much play out in the same way.”
“Like, the bomber?” I sat back, holding the burger halfway to my mouth. “The bomber, do you think he’s a Trojan horse?”
“How so? He’s not leaving the bombs in pretty packages.”
“But, he is leaving them in pretty locations. The seaside, the theatre, they’re touristy places. Do you think there could be a connection in that?
“Maybe, but the last one, that village?” He frowned, thinking of the hundreds killed in the last blast.
“I don’t know. I didn’t look at the village. Ash, we need to get back to the house. We need to see if this is a connection.” I stood before I had finished talking.
“Roz, we’ll get through it. Don’t you want to finish here first?”
I looked around at the faces watching me. “I do. But, I’m sorry, Ash. I can’t just leave this ‘till morning. We have to look into this. This could be our break.”
He stood and pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Okay, but we stop for pudding on the way to the car. We can eat while we research.”
“Deal.”
“And you owe me another date, for cutting this one short,” he smirked.
I leaned over and hugged him. “Deal.”
I pulled my purse rom my bag as a woman in a severely tight suit drew close.
“No. I’ve got this.” He threw the money to the table and grabbed my hand to pull me away before I could contribute.
“Hey, I can pay my way you know.”
He laced his fingers through mine. “I know you can. But, I wanted to pay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The house was empty when we got back. The piles of papers still sat untouched on the table top. I called up the stairs to Owen and Warwick and got no reply. Ash flicked the kettle on as he fished in the cupboard for two plates. We had managed to find a late opening farm shop which sold homemade cream cakes. Perfect.
“You’re right,” Ash said, with his mouth full of cake. We were sat in the living room, feet up on the table. “Every location was a tourist spot.”
“Even the village?” I asked.
“Looks like it. It had a gift shop, so I presume tourists went there.”
“Why would the bomber target tourist attractions?” I asked, knowing the answer.
There was only one thing these places had in common: lots of people, people with their guard down, relaxing on holidays, weekend breaks or nights out with their friends. These places were supposed to be fun.
“He just wanted a high body count?”
“Maybe,” Ash said, absently scrolling through a computer screen. “But, the body count doesn’t fit.”
“What do you mean?”
“The bombs, they were never big enough to cause too much damage.”
“The one that went off at the theatre cause plenty of damage.” I shuddered at the memory of the roof collapsing in on us, the screams as people were crushed.
Ash shook his head. “That was an old building which needed repair. It wouldn’t have been half that bad in a new build. You got out. If the bomber really wanted to kill everyone and get the numbers, he would have set the bomb by the supporting wall.”
“What did he want then?”
“I may be wrong, but I think it was two things.”
“Two? What are they?”
>
“Attention, and to infect people.”
I nodded for him to continue.
“The people who died at each bombing, the majority were from infection.” He handed me a sheet of paper. “Look at the locations, can you see the connection?”
I read though the sheet. It listed the bombing locations in date order. As far as I could tell, apart from moving north, they were random.
“They’re moving north through the country.”
“Yes, but there’s something else.” He put his finger on the list. “This one was on the sea front, next to a block of council flats. This one was behind a community centre.” He prodded the list, nodding at me to understand.
I followed his finger down the list. “A voluntary run theatre, in the old town.” I said, my voice drifting off. “He’s targeting the lower income areas?”
I searched the list. He was right. Every bombing was located at the poorer locations of a town. All accept one. My finger hovered over the location.
“I know. That’s the one that doesn’t fit,” Ash said, without me asking the question.
“The bomb here at uni didn’t have the biological weapon. It didn’t go off in a populated area. Do you think it was a different bomber?”
Ash rummaged through a pile to the left of him. He pulled out a sheet from the bottom. “No, look. The report Owen took from Llamp’s computer says it was made from the same components as the other bombs, so it’s definitely the same bomber.” He paused.
“Hang on.” He leaned closer to me, reading through the sheet. “I think I’ve found something.”
I curled up my knees and leaned into him, reading over his shoulder. “What?”
“Yes, it’s a connection. It’s at the theatre, the village, and the others. Yes.”
“What is? What is it?”
He turned the paper so I could see it, holding his finger over the correct line. “It says something called L08 was found in each of the victims. Looks like it’s a chemical or something.”
“L08? I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”
“No idea, but it’s the connection we’ve been looking for.”
I gripped his arm, unable to sit still. “Ash, you’re brilliant.”
Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1) Page 22
