Loose Ends (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 2)

by Oliver Tidy

  The only thing they could agree on was Tallis’s involvement. Both had learned of his essential honesty and goodness from firsthand experience and neither would forget him or doubt his intentions. However, as Eda was so fond of quoting to Sansom in their often-heated discussions, the road to hell was paved with such good intentions.

  He turned at the creak of the screen door to see Eda in one of his shirts and nothing else. She stretched seductively, unabashedly revealing herself to him. He smiled up at her.

  ‘I don’t know about you,’ she said, ‘but I think we should make the most of the little time we have left together.’ Her meaning was clear. Willingly, he rose and followed her inside.

  *

  It was dark when they next woke. Hungry, they walked into the small village nearby for a meal at the one little restaurant the community supported. It was basic, cheap and the menu was limited traditional Turkish fare, but for Sansom the food there was as good as anything he had eaten anywhere for four times the price. Only the beverages list left something to be desired. Being frequent visitors and Eda being almost a local, they had reached an agreement with the owner that they could bring their own wine.

  They ate with their fingers by candlelight at an outside table under thick vines – small fried fish, calamari, fresh local salad and pide bread. Despite their closeness during the afternoon, an atmosphere existed between them. While she may have indicated otherwise earlier, Eda was clearly anything other than happily accepting the developments and Sansom’s impending departure.

  Emboldened by the wine, he steered their talk to the topic that threatened to spoil things between them. He reached out to take her hand across the table. ‘It’ll be all right. You know that I’ve had their assurances. You heard Havers. We’re going to sort out this mess. I’m going to help them with Bishop and in return they’re going to clear me, release me from the Army. I’ll be free to come back to you.’

  She met his eyes, held them. ‘I heard what he said. One of the things that worries me is that all you have is what they said – their word, nothing in writing. How do you know that you can trust them? And don’t worry, I know that you’re going.’ She smiled at him. ‘I did my best to talk you out of it. It didn’t work. Now I just have to wait for you – if you want me to, that is?’

  His natural smile came easily. ‘Eda, how could you think that I would not want you to? You’re everything to me now. There is nothing else, no one else. What we’ve been through… well it’s not even that. It’s what we have now, what we can have in the future. I thought I’d made that clear to you. I want you in my life. But I have to get this mess that my life is in straightened out. I couldn’t live with it all hanging over me. And besides, if I don’t go voluntarily to them, it’ll go badly for me when the day comes that they have their reckoning with me. And they would, don’t doubt it.’ Her eyes had filled with tears. ‘I’m coming back to you,’ he said. ‘I promise.’

  Unable to help herself, her tears coursed down her cheeks.

  *

  Later, as she lay sleeping against him, her words crept in to nibble at his confidence. ‘One of the things that worries me is that all you have is what they said – their word, nothing in writing. How do you know that you can trust them?’ They disturbed him but there was nothing to be done now about the way things were headed. He didn’t know that he could trust them, but he had to. Besides, he took some comfort from the knowledge that Stan Tallis had assured him of his own close involvement.

  Eventually, he slept. In his dreams he experienced the horribly-familiar saving-from-drowning scenario that had plagued him for months. For all its tortuous familiarity it was no less distressing. When he woke from it, sweating, his heart racing and gasping for air, he realised that with this one there had been a difference. In the past it had always been the face of Alison, his dead wife, who had been hovering over him, distorted by the water, reaching out her hand to haul him clear of the clamouring ocean and to safety. This time it was Eda’s face that he saw. As he lay back into the pillow recovering, he felt strangely saddened as he realised that the most vivid association he had with his dead wife, albeit a heartbreaking one, was fading away, like all the others.

  *

  On the opposite coast of the Bodrum peninsula – not an hour’s leisurely drive away – a recently widowed and proud woman looked in on her sleeping children. She kissed each of her three young sons in the centre of their foreheads and a sad smile brushed her features as they stirred at her touch in their absolute vulnerability. When she came to her daughter – the youngest of the four – she felt a newly familiar ache in her chest and the tears she was unable to hold prickled her eyes. This was the daughter she had craved but had been unable to conceive. This was the daughter her husband had brought to her with stories, lies, of her having been found alive and without hope or relatives after a catastrophe at sea – a story she had been too ready and willing to believe for the chance it gave her.

  Mrs Botha pushed away a curl from the sleeping girl’s face and saw again, as she knew she always would – her penance – the remarkable resemblance to the girl’s real father, a man who had died because he had not cared to live. A man who believed he had nothing to live for.

  ***

  3

  As arranged, Havers returned to the villa late afternoon two days later. Sansom was waiting for him on his bench, where had been for some time, dressed for departure, a small packed bag at his feet. Eda had disappeared inside, leaving him to his contemplations. They had said their au revoirs over the previous forty-eight hours, spending their time hedonistically together in the pursuit of pleasure: eating, drinking, swimming, lying in the late summer Bodrum sun, walking, talking and making love. They had made promises to each other. Not the obligatory and meaningless holiday romance promises, but the affirmation of a future commitment; a pledge to try a normal life together when it was all over. Despite the melancholy reason for their remaining time together being short, it had been wonderful. They had made it wonderful, avoiding almost completely the topic that was the elephant in their relationship. All that each other had had to say on the subject had been already exhausted.

  As the time had worn on towards Havers’ arrival, Sansom, intending only to sit and soak up the view, the peace and uncluttered beauty for the last time, had begun to experience last minute doubts that interfered with that objective. He was not a complete fool despite what Eda might believe of him for his decision to return to England. He knew there were risks in going back. There were no guarantees that those who had made promises to him would keep their words when he was back on English soil, in their hands, at their mercy. He was not in a position to make any such demands. But, again, he tempered his anxieties by balancing the risks of returning with the alternative. And that is always where his thinking came to a dead end: there was no alternative. Whatever they had in mind for him, he had to go and face it, accept it, deal with it. He’d dealt with the greatest horror that life could throw at a man. Nothing could be worse than what he had witnessed on the island.

  However, while that might be the truth for him, the thought of the possibility of a lengthy period of incarceration terrified him. He’d done incarceration – a year alone eking out a miserable existence on a desert–island open prison. While that was tough enough, the idea of being confined in a tiny shared cell for most of any day for months or years gave rise to a feeling of anxiety that sent his spirits plummeting. He just didn’t know if he could cope mentally with that.

  Havers hailed him from the roadway and Sansom beckoned him up on to the veranda. Eda came out through the screen door clutching a bag in front of her. Registering Havers’ look, she let out a little laugh. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m not coming with you. It’s food and drink for your journey, that’s all.’ Havers looked a little sheepish, ill at ease. He was well aware that he was not popular with the lady of the house in his role here. ‘Would you like anything to drink before you leave, Mr Havers?’

&
nbsp; ‘No. Thank you. I’m fine. Had something recently. Thanks again, though.’ He nodded towards the bag at Sansom’s feet. ‘All ready?’ Sansom nodded. ‘Then it might be best if we got under way as soon as possible. Long way to go.’

  ‘Give me a moment and I’ll be over.’

  ‘Jolly good. I’ll wait in the car. Here,’ he said to Eda, ‘let me take that, shall I?’ He relieved her of the bag and offered his hand. ‘He’ll be well looked after; try not to worry.’

  Eda took his hand and clasped it firmly, meeting his eye. ‘He’d better be, Mr Havers, or it’s you I’ll be looking for.’

  For a moment Havers seemed unsure if the remark was meant to be humorous. He gave a nervous little laugh, nodded briefly to Sansom and headed for the car, glad to be off the veranda.

  When Havers was out of earshot, Eda said, ‘He seems too nervous to be an intelligence officer, a member of the revered MI6.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s just like that around women. I’ve known men like him in my previous life. I wouldn’t underestimate him.’

  The awkward moment of their parting had come. Sansom pulled her to him, embracing her tightly for the last time for neither-knew-how-long. She’d promised him that she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t leave him with that final memory.

  Easing herself away from him, she reached into her pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. ‘My mobile number and the office number. Don’t lose it and call me often.’ She then produced a blue bead on a thin leather thong – a deeply-embedded cultural symbol of good luck. Sansom had seen them being hawked for a lira apiece in the weekly bazaar that visited the area. He laughed as she secured it to his wrist. ‘You might not believe in lucky charms, but wear it for me.’ She kissed him harder than she meant to, almost physically painfully. Holding him tightly, she said into his ear, ‘Come back to me, Acer Sansom.’ He gave her a final squeeze and, releasing her, picked up his bag. She followed him down to the car with a jug of water.

  ‘What’s that for?’ he said.

  ‘More superstition, I’m afraid. We Turks throw water after departing vehicles to encourage a smooth and safe journey. Don’t make fun of me,’ she warned, ‘or I’ll throw it over you.’

  He smiled at her and felt a sudden swelling pride for his relationship with her.

  As the two men pulled away, Sansom looked over his shoulder to watch Eda pitch the water after them, and then stand there alone, framed by the expanse of the Aegean behind her.

  ‘What was all that about with the water?’ said Havers, as they rounded the corner at the end of the road.

  ‘Turkish superstition,’ replied Sansom. ‘It’s supposed to smooth our journey.’

  ‘How quaint. Let’s hope there’s something in it, shall we?’

  *

  They shared the driving and the food, keeping going through the night and the morning of the following day to arrive at the military base in the early afternoon.

  Both men were quite exhausted as they pulled up outside a huge hangar inside which aircraft technicians were working on the engine of a jet fighter with RAF insignia. Alerted by the gate security, a man dressed casually in flying attire came across to meet them.

  ‘Afternoon, gentlemen. I’m Wing Commander Easter.’ They all shook hands. ‘Which one of you is our special cargo?’

  ‘That’ll be me,’ said Sansom.

  ‘Very good. In that case, come and make yourself comfortable in the belly of our transport. We’ve got a couple of hours before we’re scheduled to leave. Few last minute things to attend to, like there always are.’ With an economical salute towards Havers, he turned and began walking back towards the hangar, tactfully leaving the men to their farewells.

  ‘They don’t know who you are, by the way,’ said Havers, indicating the Air Force officer. ‘Don’t know anything about you. Doubt that they’re interested, particularly. Best if it stays that way. Take my advice, the fewer people that know who you really are, what you’ve been up to, what you’re doing from now on, the better. Understood? As far as they’re concerned, you’re just another anonymous passenger taking advantage of the RAF taxi service. You’ll be met at the other end so no problem there. Right, well, no point in me hanging around here just to wave you off. Long haul back. Job begun and all that.’ He extended his hand. ‘Good luck, Acer.’ He seemed on the verge of adding something before changing his mind.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Sansom, ‘you too.’

  The MI6 officer removed his sunglasses from his shirt pocket, slid them on, got behind the wheel of the car and, with a flash of teeth and a wave, headed back towards the base exit.

  Sansom caught up with the airman who led him through the cathedral-like interior of the hangar and out the other side to where an equally huge freighter of the skies awaited them. Even after twenty years out of service, Sansom would know this plane anywhere. The Hercules, in RAF desert livery, dwarfed the few other planes near it. A smile played at Sansom’s mouth as he remembered missions of his past that had involved similar craft. Something of that previous life rose up from the depths of his memories to stir him. He realised that he was experiencing a fluttering in his stomach – not nervousness, an excitement. Sansom sensed that the Wing Commander was looking at him.

  ‘Know it?’

  ‘Never forget them,’ said Sansom. ‘Happy memories, too long ago.’ Then realising that he was in danger of doing exactly what Havers had cautioned him against before the man was even off the base, he clamped his mouth shut and changed the subject. ‘If we’re not off for a few hours, do you think I might get some kip inside somewhere? I’m knackered.’

  ‘No problem. Follow me up. I’m sure we can find you somewhere snug where you won’t be disturbed.’

  Sansom trailed the senior airman up the ramp into the empty cargo hold. He was found somewhere where he could stretch out in the forward crew station.

  ‘Might get a little noisy in a while, I should warn you; we’ve got some pallets to load before we buckle up.’

  Left alone, Sansom made himself a makeshift bed out of a folded tarpaulin and got his head down. Deep sleep came quickly.

  *

  During his inevitable dreaming Sansom experienced strange sensations of movement played out in bizarre scenes of flying. He soared and wheeled in the skies in the company of two faceless females who, like him, were capable of flight. They swooped and cried out to each other, shrieking in delight in voices and language that he couldn’t understand. He was able to look down on the patchwork of the Earth and feel the heat of the sun on his back and the warmth of the wind on his face. He closed his eyes and drank in his freedom. And when he opened them he was alone; his companions had vanished. Desperately, he searched the clouds and the emptiness above and around him for any trace of them. A coldness wrapped itself around him, sapping his strength. Something was happening to his wings. He was falling, spiralling, being pulled back to the world. As he plummeted, he looked down and saw speeding towards him the two white forms of his broken flying partners arranged horribly on the ground below.

  *

  The first thing he noticed when he woke was the deafening throbbing of the hefty prop engines. He wondered how they hadn’t woken him before, they were so loud. The second thing he understood was that the plane was airborne. Sitting up, he peered out of one of the small porthole windows. The approaching dusk told him he had been asleep for some hours and from what he could make out of the terrain thousands of feet below they were over the green of Northern Europe. He was also colder than he’d been in months. He removed his thin jacket from his bag and put it on, more for psychological benefit than for warmth.

  He made his way forward looking for a crew member. His search took him to the cockpit where he signalled his approach with a loud cough. No need to go scaring people. Easter turned in his seat and smiled up at him.

  Raising his voice over the noise, he said, ‘There you are at last. I was getting worried.’ Sansom shot him a quizzical look. ‘My number one here,’ the airman o
ccupying the other pilot’s seat raised a hand, ‘had a tenner with me that you’d sleep through to landing. We’re almost over the Channel. I was beginning to think I’d lost my money. Take over, Ford, I’m going back for a minute.’ Sansom backed up to give him room. ‘You must have needed that,’ shouted Easter over the reverberation of the engines as he served them both black tea from a flask. ‘Little plastic things of milk around here somewhere if you want it,’ he called.

  ‘This is fine, thanks,’ said Sansom, gratefully wrapping his cold hands around the heat.

  ‘Didn’t see the need to wake you. Figured if you slept through the loading of those pallets, you must have needed your rest. Besides, you don’t strike me as a stranger to this kind of transport. And to be honest, there’s bugger all to do if you’re not actually flying the thing.’

  Sansom nodded, still a little stupid from his deep slumbers.

  ‘Been away long?’ said Easter, eyeing Sansom keenly.

  Sansom smiled. ‘Too long.’

  ‘Well, you can expect quite a dip in temperature from Turkey. After a day or two of the end of the good old British summer, you might wish you’d stayed away a bit longer. He held up his hand as he received a communication through his headphones. He threw back the last of his drink and crumpled the white plastic cup into a nearby empty cardboard box. ‘Right, duty calls. Make yourself as comfy as you can. I’ve got to go in and supervise our approach. We’ll be down in a few minutes.’ He turned to navigate his way back to the cockpit and the plane back to earth, leaving his comment that Sansom might wish he’d stayed away a little longer ringing in the soldier’s consciousness. He hoped it didn’t turn out to be portentous.