Secrets

by Jane A. Adams

  ‘It’s a little ad hoc,’ Adam objected.

  ‘And I think it’ll have to be,’ Nathan said. ‘Adam, I don’t like flying blind any more than you do, but sometimes you just have to improvise.

  ‘We walk in through the front door. Maybe we owe him that.’

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  ‘Tell me about the boy who went to Molly’s,’ Gregory said. ‘Who he was.’

  Nathan shrugged. They were, for the moment, in the lead car; Adam, Annie and Tariq followed on behind.

  ‘His name was Pavel,’ Nathan said. ‘At least, that was what we knew him by. He was seventeen when Clay brought him into the country. He was mad as hell, belligerent; everyone was the enemy.’

  ‘His family?’

  Nathan shrugged. ‘His mother was dead. Annie and I, well we always figured he looked like Clay.’

  ‘He sent his son after Molly?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure. Look, the thing you have to understand is that Clay took care of us all, trained us, taught us what to do and how to do it. Made sure we could live in society as well as outside it. He wanted us to blend, because being invisible was how we could be most useful. Pavel could never blend. It was beyond him.

  ‘If Clay had brought him in before, when he was younger, he might have settled. But it’s hard once you get them past a certain age. Everything gets frozen in place, somehow.’

  ‘You sound like an authority,’ Gregory commented. ‘And very old.’

  Nathan laughed at that. ‘I feel very old,’ he said.

  Equipped with radios, courtesy of Adam, with radio monitoring equipment, RF jammers, all from the same source, they moved forward, Tariq and Adam now on foot, Nathan and Annie pulled in at the side of the road, now both in the first car. Gregory was to be rear guard, following in the second car when they moved forward, but remaining on the road.

  ‘A one-man army,’ Gregory joked.

  It was still early, not much after dawn and the air was chill. Autumn was about to take hold, Adam thought. He led Tariq through the woods that backed the house. The grounds were high-walled with cameras at intervals. Nathan had told them there was a central control room, but also feeds to study and several other rooms. The camera positions alternated, one pointed into the grounds, the next out into the woods. All could be repositioned from the control room inside. They approached the wall between two camera positions, blindsiding the outward facing one. Adam was monitoring any radio traffic that might be coming from the house, but there was nothing. He had equipment with him that could have knocked out the cameras and the control room equipment. A simple EM pulse generator, crude, but powerful. It would knock out their radios as well, of course, and could not be guaranteed to put paid to the alarm. Nathan hadn’t known if it was a make or break circuit, but logic dictated it would probably be the latter. Any break in the system would trigger a remote sensor and sound the alarm; it would not need the intervention of anyone in the house. Shutting down the system with the EM pulse would trigger that as effectively as cutting wires.

  ‘You any good at climbing trees?’ Adam asked Tariq. ‘I’d like to get a look over that wall without getting too close.’

  ‘You do realize I’m physically inept,’ Tariq reminded him. He shrugged. ‘I’ll give it a go. Which tree do you have in mind?’

  ‘Try that one. It should give you a clear view, and the foliage should give you cover, if there’s anyone looking out from the house.’

  He gave Tariq a leg up to the first branch and then watched anxiously as the younger man hauled and puffed his way into the higher branches.

  ‘Did you never climb trees when you were a kid?’

  ‘I climbed on the climbing frame in the park. Where I lived there weren’t that many trees to climb.’

  Adam nodded. Fair point, he supposed. ‘Can you see anything yet?’

  ‘I need to be just a little higher.’

  Adam’s radio crackled. Nathan telling him that they were moving forward.

  Adam acknowledged. ‘We’re in position. I’ve got Tariq up a tree so we can get the lie of the land.’

  As Nathan responded, he heard Annie giggle.

  ‘See anything?’

  ‘Yes. But I can’t quite … Adam, Annie said there were dogs. Irish wolfhounds, right?’

  ‘Yes, but she also said they wouldn’t bother us too much.’

  ‘Well this one won’t. Adam, we’ve got a dead dog. Looks to me like someone blew its head half off.’

  ‘You sure.’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. It’s dead and it’s very bloody. Lying halfway between the wall and the house.’

  ‘Come down,’ Adam snapped. He got back on the radio. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said. ‘Nathan, don’t go inside.’

  ‘I hear you,’ Nathan said.

  Tariq dropped down from the tree, his descent faster and even less elegant than the climb had been.

  ‘What now?’ he asked.

  ‘We get the hell out of here, regroup and then figure out what to do next,’ Adam said.

  Together, they began to move back towards the road, less cautious now. Whatever was going on, Adam thought, keeping out of sight wasn’t going to make a hell of a lot of difference.

  ‘What?’

  Tariq didn’t get to finish the question. There was a flash. The ground beneath their feet shook and grumbled and then the roar exploded outward from the house behind the wall. Tariq didn’t need telling to hit the ground. He dived and Adam followed him, waiting for the sound to stop and the shaking to cease.

  ‘Nathan and Annie,’ Tariq whispered.

  THIRTY-NINE

  For Bud, the past few days had been routine but not unpleasant. He liked being out of doors and Bob was an easy enough target to watch. It helped that Annie was in the house and that Bud knew there were three other watchers in the hills surrounding what had once been a small farm.

  At night, he had kept watch using state-of-the-art night vision goggles that Nathan had provided. By day, Bob’s routine was utterly predictable, walking the dogs, painting, the trip to the village. Annie accompanied her husband then and Bud had taken the opportunity to sleep for a couple of hours.

  Since the night before, though, the mood had changed. Bud had been told to check in with Nathan every hour. Annie had left just past midnight and, though Bud didn’t know what was going on, Nathan’s increased state of anxiety had transmitted to Bud and he was now on full alert.

  It was still very early. Dawn mist had begun to lift from the valley, but Bud knew it would be mid-morning before it completely burned away. He could fully understand why an artist would live in this place, in the rather plain, some would say ugly, whitewashed house, with it’s funny little windows, none of which matched. It was a fabulous, almost mysterious location, tucked away, surrounded by trees and hills.

  And it was a sod to defend, Bud added to himself.

  Bob’s studio was a large conservatory tagged on to and running the full length of the back of the house. It wasn’t the prettiest of buildings, pent roof, UPVC, but it did the job, Bud supposed. He could see Bob working there, could see the work too, looking through his field glasses. It was all a bit mystical for Bud’s taste, but each to his own. At least you could tell what it was.

  Bob had walked the dogs at first light. Bud could tell there was something wrong with him just from the set of his shoulders and the fact he cut his walk short. He figured it was because Annie had gone. It must be nice, Bud thought, to love someone that much, though he supposed it hurt too and Bud wasn’t too keen on emotional pain.

  Bob was now in his studio, sifting through canvases, reinforcing the corners with card and wrapping them ready for transport to the gallery. He worked at a large table, laying stuff out carefully and methodically, but Bud, having watched the artist for a few days now, could see that he was distracted.

  The car, a blue saloon, pulled into the drive and parked up. Bud watched, frowning. Usually visitors to the house drove right along the track a
nd up to the front door. Bud would lose sight of them at the front of the house. A man got out and Bud studied him through the field glasses. The collar of his coat was turned up and Bud could not get a decent view. Alarm bells began to ring. Moving slowly, keeping the stranger in sight, Bud began to move off the hill.

  Bob Taylor continued to work in his studio. Moments later, Bud saw him look up. The door to the conservatory opened. The man came through.

  Bob turned and Bud, halfway down the hill, froze.

  ‘Fuck and shit and buggery!’ The stranger had a gun and it was pointed straight at the man Bud was supposed to protect.

  A small sound caused Bob to look up from his work. Just for a moment he was hopeful. ‘Annie?’

  The door opened and the figure standing there was definitely not his wife.

  ‘I’ve come to tell you something,’ Clay said. ‘It’s about your wife. About someone needing to make funeral arrangements.’

  ‘Annie,’ Bob whispered. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, she’s dead.’

  Bob was numbed, utterly. So much so that he almost forgot about the gun this man who had invaded his home was pointing at him. He dropped down into the nearest chair, utterly stunned.

  ‘I thought you might like to join her,’ Clay said. He raised the gun, pointed it straight at Bob Taylor’s head.

  FORTY

  From the road, Gregory had heard the blast, felt the ground shake him almost off his feet. A moment later and he was back in the car and heading up the drive. He could see the smoke rising from what was left of the house, debris still falling. Nathan’s car standing in the middle of the drive, debris from the explosion all but covering it.

  He skidded to a halt and saw, to his relief, Nathan and Annie emerge from what passed for cover behind the vehicle. Gregory glanced back as footsteps thundered on the gravel. Adam and Tariq running towards them.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ Gregory demanded.

  ‘He wired the whole damned house,’ Nathan said.

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Adam said. ‘Nathan, don’t go inside.’

  ‘I hear you.’ He looked at Annie and motioned her back behind the car, then picked up a stone and hurled it through the nearest window.

  The flash, the noise. Nathan had already hurled himself behind the car, crouched with Annie, clinging tight as the entire world seemed to go up in smoke.

  FORTY-ONE

  Bud had no time to think, no time to contact Nathan, no time for anything but to take the shot.

  He saw Bob look up directly into the muzzle of the gun. He saw the finger tighten on the trigger, he saw the burst of skull and brain and blood and the man fall.

  Bob was on his feet, staring in disbelief, first at the dead man and then at the broken glass shattered on the floor. Then at Bud, the man standing in his garden with yet another weapon.

  Bud lowered his rifle, lying it on the ground and raising his hands.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he shouted, ‘I’m one of the good guys. It’s all going to be OK.’

  Bob crossed to the broken window and stared out at Bud.

  ‘He told me Annie had died. Annie!’

  ‘Let me come in,’ Bud said quietly. ‘Let me make you some tea and I’ll get hold of Nathan and we’ll clear up the mess. He’ll know all about Annie. You going to let me come inside?’

  Bob nodded, dumbly. His face was white, Bud noted, even his lips were blue.

  ‘Sit down before you fall down,’ Bud said. He made his way round to the front of the house and went inside. Nathan responded to his call a few moments later.

  ‘I’ve just shot someone at Annie’s place,’ Bud said. ‘There’s a bit of a mess. Just tell me she’s all right? I’ve got a man here falling to bits, thinking she’s gone.’

  FORTY-TWO

  Alec opened his eyes. He still wasn’t with it, Naomi realized, but the doctors said the prognosis was good. His parents had arrived and Liz had eventually gone. Naomi was deeply grateful to this woman she barely knew. There had been no word from Gregory, but she’d expected none.

  ‘That friend of yours,’ Molly said when Naomi, trying to divide herself between the two patients, sat beside her bed, ‘he said he had my box. That he was looking after it.’

  ‘Then he is,’ Naomi said. She really couldn’t raise the energy to ask, ‘What box?’ Naomi felt she didn’t care any more.

  Briefly, she sat down in the day room while the doctors fussed around Alec. She had relinquished her position to Alec’s mother, figuring that a sighted woman would be able to make a better assessment of the professionals as they did whatever it was they had to do.

  ‘You should go and get some sleep,’ Alec’s father said. He sat down beside her. ‘You look all in.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep yet. I’m just not ready, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I know what you mean. News is on, shall I turn it up?’

  She nodded, willing to be distracted.

  ‘An explosion at a house in Northamptonshire is believed to have been caused by a gas leak,’ the announcer intoned.

  ‘Bloody big house,’ Alec’s father commented. ‘Bloody big explosion. The whole gas main go up?’

  ‘There have been a number of dawn raids by police in three counties. It is understood that one home in London and two in the Midlands were targeted. Police say this is part of their ongoing anti-terrorist campaign. One business premises specializing in electronics was also searched. No arrests have been made.’

  ‘In other news—’

  Naomi tuned out. She closed her eyes, wondering what was going on with Gregory.

  ‘At least have a nap in the chair; we’ll hold the fort.’

  She nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. Almost asleep, she did not hear her father-in-law leave, or someone else come in through the door. Gregory stood for a moment, wondering if he should wake her. Decided he should.

  ‘Naomi?’

  She dragged her mind back to full consciousness. ‘Gregory. You’re here.’

  ‘I won’t stay long. I understand he’s going to be all right.’

  Naomi nodded, tears beginning to fall again. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘For what? Being able to grieve is part of what makes us human.’

  ‘Is it? What’s happening, Gregory?’

  ‘News, in brief,’ Gregory said. ‘Clay is dead. Not quite in the way I expected him to be, but dead, nonetheless. Molly’s box is at the hotel. I left it with the receptionist, she said she’d put it in your room.’

  ‘Is it over?’

  ‘Mostly. Clay is still reaching out in a way, even though he’s now dead. You heard the news? Well, he’s set the police on Adam Carmodie and a couple of others he had a grudge against. Adam will have some questions to answer, and so will others, but we can sort it out. A minor inconvenience.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Gregory laughed. ‘Oh yes. We’ve got enough material to be able to blacken Clay’s name, make any decision he made seem suspect. Thanks to Joseph Bern and our friend Molly. It’ll all come out in the wash, as they say.’

  ‘I’m glad. And you?’

  ‘Have things to do. I’ll come and say hello when you’re settled again. That’s if I’m welcome.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Naomi said. ‘Always will be.’

  She heard him leave and then a nurse returning. ‘He’s asking for you,’ she said. ‘Here, take my arm.’

  EPILOGUE

  Bob Taylor has long defied categorization. His detractors may speak of him as a mere illustrator, or a fantasy artist, while others speak of him in the same breath as the Brotherhood of Ruralists, but Bob himself declares that he never set out to be categorized.

  Figures run through the Birchwood. Men and women and wolves, chasing and playing as though involved in some bizarre game of hide and seek. For all the movement in the figures, there is a sense of the scene being frozen. A single moment, captured and held. Deliberately so. It is a Bob Taylo
r trademark, this quality of stillness, like a slice through time.

  Annie looked up at him. ‘Good review, Bob. Another one. You must be really pleased.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m trying to be,’ he said. ‘Annie, I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed right now.’

  She reached across the table. ‘I know you are,’ she said. ‘But it’s all right. It’s all going to be fine.’

  He smiled across at her. ‘You looked lovely in your posh frock,’ he said. ‘There are more pictures of you than there are of me. Wife and photographer, Annie Raven,’ he quoted.

  Annie laughed. ‘Well that’s my cover blown,’ she said. She saw the shadow cross her husband’s face, but Annie knew she couldn’t let him retreat from this. He had to face it head on. If he didn’t it would haunt his work and seep into his dreams and destroy the man she had fallen in love with.

  ‘You’re alive,’ she said. ‘So am I. We can figure the rest out as we go along.’

  It was three weeks before Alec and Naomi travelled north again. A friend came to collect them and Sam, Naomi’s sister, drove their car back. It was three weeks too, before Tariq returned to work. Tom brought him a mug of his awful tea.

  ‘Thought we’d seen the last of you. Glad you’re back. Who’d have thought it though. Old Gustav Clay?’

  Anyone who knew him, Tariq thought.

  Three weeks before Carmodie electronics reopened its doors, Billie piled the stack of new catalogue requests on to Adam’s desk.

  ‘Our little hiatus has led to a backlog,’ she said. ‘It’s not done us any lasting harm, that’s for sure.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Adam said. ‘Billie, I’ve got something to ask you before we make a start. Billie, how about the two of us get married. Like we should have done back in Beirut?’

  Billie grinned at him. ‘Thought you’d never ask,’ she said.