Dead and Buried

by Anne Cassidy

  She waited. The door of the attic opened and his head appeared at the top of the stairs. He smiled and then his face dropped.

  ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

  She sank on to the bottom stair and let her head fall into her hands. When he reached her he pulled her up to a standing position.

  ‘What? What? What’s happened? Your face is grazed. What’s happened to you? Tell me!’

  She was limp. Like a doll. She had no shape. She just hung over his arm.

  ‘They’ve got my mum,’ she said, through cries. ‘Baranski has got my mum.’

  ‘Try and stay calm,’ Joshua said, holding a wet flannel up to the side of Rose’s face. ‘We have to think. We have to work out what to do.’

  Rose took the flannel. She had stopped crying. She had told him about the meeting with her mother and the things she had said. He had listened without giving away his feelings. He hadn’t admonished her for not telling him about the card with the phone number on it. He hadn’t got angry. He prompted her to tell it all, nodding, giving reassuring sounds.

  She hadn’t told him about the other stuff – the pendant, the letters from Brendan, the fact that they hadn’t been getting on. All of that seemed irrelevant in the face of what had happened.

  ‘We can work something out,’ he said.

  Joshua looked pained. He was walking up and down. She noticed then that he was wearing his father’s jumper again, the sleeves rolled up, the hem on one side fraying. Brendan’s jumper. Brendan who would have to go to the London Eye tomorrow in order to save her mother’s life.

  ‘We have to contact Brendan.’

  ‘How?’ Joshua said.

  ‘We have to get in the car and go there now! To Two Oaks!’

  ‘No. We can’t do that. It’s too direct. We don’t know what sort of situation we might put him into.’

  ‘Maybe we should ring Frank Richards. I still have his number . . .’

  She remembered Frank Richards, an hour or so before. She hadn’t yet told Joshua about seeing him. The man had seemed creepy, odd, overwrought. Did they have to depend on him to save her mother?

  ‘No, we’ll contact Dad through Munroe.’

  ‘James Munroe?’ Rose said, startled.

  ‘This isn’t just about Dad and Kathy. This is about the organisation. The Butterfly Project. Wasn’t that what you said Margaret Spicer called it? Whatever they did to Baranski was a joint decision. So the group should know that one of their own has been taken. It’s up to the group to deal with it. Not just Dad.’

  ‘But there isn’t time.’

  ‘There is time. We go and see James Munroe now, tonight. I know where he lives, remember?’

  ‘How can we ask that man to help us? After what he did to Skeggsie? We can’t deal with him!’

  ‘We’re not asking him for help – we’re telling him what’s about to happen to one of his people. He has power, Rosie. You remember how they cleared the cottage in Stiffkey? At the time we were amazed at their resources? Well, let him use those resources to set up this meeting at the London Eye tomorrow. Let him look after his own people.’

  ‘I don’t know’

  ‘We can’t deal with this. You and me, we’ve stumbled around in this mess for months now but this is something we cannot deal with. Lives are at stake here and if it means dealing with Munroe then I’ll put my feelings aside and do it.’

  He was right. There was nothing they could do to save her mother or Brendan on their own. James Munroe, on the other hand, was ruthless and had the power to make things happen.

  ‘We’ll go to Munroe’s now. We should leave a note for your gran. Tell her we’re staying at the Camden flat tonight.’

  Rose nodded. Pulling herself together she packed some clothes into her rucksack and paused to write the note.

  Dear Anna, Josh has some IT equipment at the Camden flat which will help with one of my assignments. I’ll probably stay over there and go straight to college in the morning. See you tomorrow. Rose

  She placed it on the hall table as they left the house.

  TWENTY-TWO

  James Munroe’s home was close to Surrey Quays station in Docklands. They got off the train and walked along a well lit but deserted street. On one side of it was a long apartment block, a glass and steel structure which had been recently built and was not quite finished. Overhanging the street were rows of apartments with balconies which all sat in darkness awaiting occupiers. The only lights were those along the wooden security fence.

  ‘The docks are on the other side of those houses,’ Joshua said, pointing as if she’d asked. ‘Munroe lives a few streets over there. His apartment block is not as close to the water as these but it’s still pretty smart.’

  They walked on and turned off the main street into a small paved square.

  ‘There.’

  Across the square was a brick building that looked like an old primary school. It was three storeys high and had a high wall around it. Rose followed Joshua to the corner of the square and along a narrow street. About ten metres ahead was an entrance for cars and pedestrians. There was a keypad and audio box. She was reminded of Macon Parker’s home in the country. She lifted her eyes and saw that on the wall, angled down to the entrance, were two CCTV cameras.

  ‘How do you know which apartment he has?’

  ‘The surnames are there. His is number three.’

  They went close to the row of numbers and buttons and Rose saw Munroe next to number three. Joshua put his finger on it and Rose waited. There was a low buzzing sound. Then they stood back. Nothing happened. There was no voice, no movement of the gate. Joshua stepped forward and pressed the button again, holding it for longer.

  ‘What if he’s not in?’

  ‘Let’s just hope he is.’

  Joshua took his finger off the buzzer and looked up at the building.

  ‘It’s that apartment on the third floor, on the right-hand side.’

  Rose looked up as a pair of headlights came along the narrow lane. She turned to see. A dark car was moving towards them.

  ‘Look,’ she said.

  As the car came closer she could see James Munroe inside it. He was alone. He approached the entrance and stopped. His window slid down.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he said testily.

  ‘We need to talk,’ Joshua said, leaning down to the window, then lowering his voice, he added, ‘Lev Baranski has taken Kathy.’

  ‘What! How on earth . . .’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I’ll park the car then I’ll buzz you in.’

  There was a lift to the third floor. It was modern and tiny and Rose and Joshua stood face to face waiting for it. Rose touched Joshua’s cheek where the plaster had been.

  ‘Is it still painful?’

  ‘I’ve forgotten about it.’

  The lift doors opened. James Munroe was standing outside his apartment waiting for them. They walked into a room that had once been a classroom. The ceiling was high, the floor parquet, and the wall space seemed empty as if it was missing a display of children’s pictures and stories. There was a leather sofa and an armchair. In the corner was a large television. Across the far wall was a fitted kitchen and in between the two areas a wooden table. James Munroe had taken his coat off and rested it over the back of a chair. On the table were car keys, a BlackBerry and a smartphone. There was also a briefcase on a chair. Munroe walked across and stood with his back against a kitchen cupboard. He looked at each of them coldly.

  ‘Your father’s already been in contact with me. Kathy was due back in Essex this afternoon and she hasn’t turned up. You say you know what’s happened to her?’

  ‘Mum’s been taken by Baranski. He says he’ll kill her if Brendan doesn’t go to the London Eye tomorrow at twelve. I think he wants to take Brendan in exchange for Mum . . .’

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, exasperated. ‘Kathy and Brendan have been undercover for over a year. How did he find them? And
how do you know about this?’

  ‘I found them,’ Joshua said. ‘We found them.’

  Munroe looked at Joshua with hostility.

  ‘I told you we wouldn’t stop until we found them. Perhaps Dad didn’t tell you about seeing us.’

  Joshua said it with relish. Rose frowned. It was misplaced bravado. They had found them and then put them in danger. Munroe stared at him unfazed. There was real dislike in his expression. Joshua held his look. Rose pulled the conversation back to the reason they had come.

  ‘My mum might be killed. If she is working for you then you should do something about it!’

  Munroe’s voice was steely. ‘You couldn’t just leave things alone. Wasn’t it enough that your friend was killed because of your interference?’

  Joshua bristled. ‘His death is down to you.’

  ‘I’m not repeating the conversation I had with you in Newcastle. You two have meddled and put everyone in danger. You’re a couple of kids and you should have kept your noses out of it. I wonder what your father will make of this latest disaster!’

  Joshua stepped forward. ‘Don’t you tell me or Rose what to do. It’s because of you that we lost our parents five years ago.’

  ‘Because of me? How ridiculous. Who do you think started all this? Your father. Brendan Johnson, covering up for his brother’s stupidity,’ Munroe said, pointing his finger at Joshua.

  ‘He thought he was doing the right thing . . .’

  Rose shook her head. ‘There’s no time for arguments now!’

  Munroe turned his fury on Rose. ‘Then maybe you should have heeded what I said when I visited your grandmother. I warned that this might end badly and now look what you’ve done!’

  ‘Don’t shout at her!’

  ‘Ever the gentleman. Just like your father. Protecting the ladies!’

  Joshua lunged at Munroe. He collided with him, pushing him further along the kitchen units, knocking over a fruit bowl, oranges falling out and bouncing dully on to the wooden floor. Munroe steadied himself and grabbed Joshua’s jacket and shoved him backwards.

  ‘You have got in my way once too often. This time you will not interfere. This judgement was made almost two years ago. It’s taken us this long to get everything in place and now here we are days away from completion and you barge in and ruin everything and leave it to me to pick up the pieces.’

  Joshua’s back was at the wall. He was taller than Munroe but the older man was stocky and strong. Munroe’s face was rigid, his eyes like slits as he pinned Joshua harder against the wall. Then without warning he let him go and Joshua slid down to an almost sitting position. Munroe walked away, rubbing his palms together. Joshua struggled up, looking shaken and angry. Rose tried to help him but he shrugged her off. She picked up the oranges instead, placing them back in the bowl.

  ‘What happened to your ear?’ Munroe said, his voice calm.

  ‘Baranski’s man, Mikey. He did it,’ Rose said.

  Munroe shook his head. ‘Baranski – like father like son. Getting rid of him was a good judgement. Now, you need to tell me what has happened since Newcastle so that when I call your father I have all the information. Then we’ll see how to deal with this.’

  Joshua turned away as if he couldn’t bear to look at Munroe. Rose knew that it was she who would have to tell the story. In a stuttering voice she explained it as clearly as she could. She left out the irrelevant stuff about Brewster Road and the murder of Daisy Lincoln. She ignored Munroe’s expression of distaste and annoyance and told it in order ending with Baranski’s threat to kill her mother.

  Munroe picked up his phone and BlackBerry.

  ‘I’m going to call your father in the other room. I need to sort some things out with him then I will get him to speak to you.’

  He closed the door to what Rose supposed was a bedroom.

  ‘What do you think he’ll say? What will they do?’

  Joshua shrugged.

  They sat at the table and Joshua shook his head slowly.

  ‘He’ll go down for Skeggsie. One day he will.’

  Rose didn’t answer. In a just world he would. But maybe this wasn’t essentially a just world. Maybe her mother had been right when she said You have not walked in our shoes. You cannot know what made us do this. Can any person ever walk in another person’s shoes? There was the sound of talking from next door, rapid words, low and emphatic. There were gaps followed by more talk. Rose looked around the living area. It was uncluttered, like a show flat. There was nothing she could see that indicated a female presence. Either it had only ever been a place for Munroe to sleep over in the city or Margaret Spicer had already stripped the place of her belongings.

  The bedroom door opened and Munroe came out holding his phone. Without a word he gave it to Joshua. Joshua walked away towards the window and stood with his back to them. Rose felt uncomfortable standing near Munroe. She too moved across the room and heard Joshua speak.

  ‘I didn’t know about Kathy giving Rose the phone number.’

  ‘I didn’t know they were going to meet.’

  ‘Kathy must have decided for herself . . .’

  ‘I’m not going to stay away tomorrow.’

  ‘Rose and I will be there . . .’

  ‘We will not stay away so there’s no point in . . .’

  ‘You don’t have the right to order me . . . Not now, not after everything.’

  Joshua went quiet. Rose could hear the hum of the voice on the other end of the phone. She saw Joshua nodding and wondered if Brendan was taking charge, laying down the law. After what seemed like a long time Joshua ended the call and handed the phone back to Munroe.

  ‘Go home now. Leave it to us,’ Munroe said.

  ‘I’ll be nearby tomorrow,’ Joshua said.

  ‘Just go home.’

  Rose took Joshua’s arm and led him out of the living room towards the door of the flat. Munroe didn’t follow them.

  Back in the Camden flat they both sat on the sofa in the living room. It had been an almost silent journey back from Docklands. Joshua was speaking now, giving instructions about the next day. In his hands he had a Google Map of the area around the London Eye.

  ‘We get to the London Eye about eleven thirty. Dad says we should try and disguise ourselves.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just slightly. You know, wear something more formal, carry a briefcase, umbrella or wear a hat, just some small thing to alter the way we look. And we shouldn’t stay together. I thought you could stand on Hungerford Bridge, here.’ He pointed to the map. ‘I’ve got some binoculars you can use. You’ll be like a tourist looking at the Houses of Parliament or the boats on the river. I’m going to be around County Hall. There are a lot of places there where I can merge in with the crowds. Dad says we just have to stay away from him and Baranski and Mikey. And of course there might be other Baranski people there.’

  ‘What can we do? I mean to help?’

  ‘Nothing. Dad says to leave it all to them. We can just watch. There’ll be a switch at some point. Dad taking the place of Kathy. Munroe will be looking after Kathy so we should keep our eye on Dad and whoever has him. Mikey maybe. I think, if you can, you should swing from side to side with the binoculars and when you see that they’ve taken Dad you should keep the binoculars on him. Dad says he’ll wear a light blue padded jacket. You’ll be able to see which direction they take him in. I’ll call you when I go off to County Hall and we’ll keep the line open so we can be in touch. All we can do is watch from a distance. I think Munroe and Dad and maybe some others will have to handle it.’

  ‘Frank Richards?’ Rose said.

  Joshua shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘It seems so . . . theatrical. Like a movie. It seems unreal.’

  ‘Yeah, well . . .’

  Joshua said something under his breath.

  ‘What?’ she said sharply.

  ‘It should never have come to this.’

  ‘How do you mean?’


  ‘If you hadn’t had that meeting. If you hadn’t gone behind my back . . .’

  Rose bridled. ‘I didn’t intend for this to happen!’

  ‘’Course not. No one intends something like this to happen but it should have been obvious to you that meeting Kathy was a dangerous thing to do. Especially after what Baranski did to me!’

  ‘Why are you saying this?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe it just needs to be said.’

  Rose stood up. ‘I’ll go back to Anna’s. I’ll see you at the London Eye in the morning.’

  ‘No! We said we’d stay here.’

  ‘You didn’t say any of this when I first told you. When we went to Munroe’s?’

  ‘Because it’s just beginning to dawn on me how dangerous tomorrow is going to be. If it all goes wrong Baranski will have my dad.’

  ‘You mean like he’s got my mum now?’

  ‘But Kathy put herself in danger. She took a chance . . .’

  ‘So she’s to blame for Baranski taking her?’ Rose said angrily. ‘Maybe if Brendan hadn’t killed Baranski’s father none of this might be happening.’

  Rose walked out of the room to the hallway and put her coat on. Joshua came out after her.

  ‘This is not the time to argue,’ he said, laying his hand on her arm.

  ‘Why is it that you have to decide on every single thing that happens to us? You wanted to find them. We found them. My mother wanted to see me so she gave me her phone number secretly. What is it you’re upset about, Josh? That I went to see my mother without you knowing or that your father didn’t give you his phone number at all?’

  ‘Rose!’

  ‘I’m sick of always doing what you want when you want it. Go to Wickby, go to Two Oaks, stay in Camden, hire a car, make a website. Do it your way. I wanted to do it my way for once.’

  ‘And look where it’s got us! Your mum’s in Baranski’s hands now.’

  Rose flinched. She turned away. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His other hand was on the wall preventing her from moving.

  They were both wedged in the narrow hallway.