by Jodi Taylor
I turned back to Jones, stared at the front of his shirt for courage and said, ‘Do you …?’ my nerve failed me at the last moment. ‘…like me?’
I knew he did. I knew he more than liked me. I could see it in his colour every time he looked at me, but I wanted to hear him say it.
‘Of course I like you,’ he said. ‘Do you like me?’ thus turning the tables so neatly and swiftly that I wondered if he was actually drugged at all.
I took a leaf out of his book. ‘Of course I do, but do you lo …?’
‘Tell him I’ve got his passport safe,’ said Jerry, materialising beside me.
‘Hello, Jerry,’ said Jones, amiably.
‘Hello, mate. Back in a minute.’ He disappeared again.
I tried again. Because I could ask him and get a truthful answer and he’d never remember I’d asked in the first place. ‘Do you lo…?
‘Two minutes,’ called Jerry from the other end of the garage. Jones waved an acknowledgement that caused him to lose his balance somewhat.
I straightened him up and made sure he was leaning against the car.
‘Just tell me, yes or no, do you …?’
‘He’s gone to sleep,’ reported Jerry, passing with a suitcase.
Dammit. And no, I don’t swear very often.
‘Let’s get him in the car. No, the other one.’
I looked around. He was gesturing to the small black car.
‘I’ll get the doors open. You just hang on to Sunny Jim here.’
He trotted off to the car and I hung on to Sunny Jim here. The lockup was very silent.
A voice over my head said, ‘Of course I do.’
I nearly dropped him in shock. ‘What? What did you say?’
Too late. Jerry was back. ‘We’ll get him on the back seat, chuck a blanket over him and hopefully he’ll be out like a light for most of the journey.’
‘Has he gone back to sleep?’
‘Yep. Considering what they pumped into him it’s a miracle he even woke for a few minutes.’
‘What did they pump into him? Do you know?’
He shrugged. ‘Stuff to calm him down. Stuff to make him tell the truth.’
‘Where are you taking him?’
He looked at me.
‘Sorry. Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘Abroad. But not in this state. At this moment if the border policeman said, “Tell me everything,” he probably would. So a week or so to get the drugs out of his system and then somewhere safe when he’s a bit less prone to telling the truth.’
We’d reached the car and manhandled him across the back seat. It wasn’t easy. I was leaning over him with the blanket and reflecting on the number of young men I’d tucked up recently, when he opened his eyes.
‘You look like sex on legs in that outfit.’
‘Shut up,’ I said, blushing deeply.
‘Heavily drugged,’ said Jerry, trying to reassure me and not helping at all. He pulled the driver’s door open.
Jones managed to get one eye open again. ‘Promise me, Cage, that when you eventually get me into bed – and you will one day if you keep trying – you’ll wear exactly that outfit.’
‘Very heavily drugged,’ grinned Jerry.
‘You shut up, too.’
I slammed the door on Jones and waited for my face to return to its normal colour and temperature.
Jerry climbed into the driving seat. ‘That Iblis’ll be here in a minute. He’ll take you home and keep you safe.’
‘Well, good luck. And again, Jerry. Thank you. A lot of this is my fault and I’m sorry to have got you both into trouble.’
He snorted. ‘He was in trouble long before you ever came on the scene and I’ve never been out of it, so don’t beat yourself up, missis.’
‘Well, thank you anyway.’
‘You’re welcome. Now, off you go so I can lock the door behind us.’
‘Look after him.’
‘I will.’
‘And look after yourself too.’
‘Always do,’ he said simply.
He drove the car slowly out of the garage and I followed him out. The first person I saw was Iblis, leaning against a wall in the sun.
The door came down behind me, Jerry tooted his horn, I waved back, and the little black car sped away. I watched it go until it disappeared around the bend.
Iblis was staring at my get-up in astonishment. I’d forgotten we hadn’t seen each other this morning.
‘Don’t start.’
He spread his hands in innocence. ‘I never said a word.’
‘You didn’t have to. Turn around.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it, please.’
He turned around. I kicked off my shoes and hopped around, ripping off the American Tan tights, and losing my balance slightly. I bundled them up and hurled them away from me, where they wrapped themselves around an oil drum and flapped forlornly in the breeze.
‘Is this some form of celebration?’ said Iblis. ‘Should I too remove an article of clothing and throw it over there?’
I slid my feet back into my shoes, suddenly realising I was worn out and just wanted to go home.
‘Come on,’ he said, quite kindly. ‘It’s not far. We’ll get fish and chips on the way back.’
That sounded good to me and so we set out together and it was a good job he was with me. I’d said I was tired but I was more tired than I thought. Too tired to remember the new one-way system around St Stephens. I looked the wrong way and nearly stepped in front of a van. Iblis yanked me back. The driver hooted, long and loud, and shouted for good measure. I’m obviously not cut out for a life of adventure. My adrenalin was wearing off and I suddenly felt as heavy as lead.
Iblis was all for pursuing the driver down the road to teach him some manners. I managed to dissuade him but that took the last little bit of energy I had left.
The hill was more of a struggle than usual.
‘May I take your arm?’ he said and I didn’t even have the strength to ask where he was taking it to. I nodded and we did the last couple of hundred yards in silence.
I stopped at the foot of my steps and looked at him. ‘Are you coming in?’
‘Those are my instructions.’
‘From whom?’
‘From Mr Jerry, of course. He was very insistent you should not be left to face this Sorensen person alone.’ He flourished his vinegar-smelling carrier bag. ‘And I have the food.’
‘In that case, come in.’
I went straight upstairs, wrenched off that wretched suit and blouse and dressed in something more comfortable. When I went back downstairs he had dished up the fish and chips. Salt, vinegar and tomato sauce all stood ready.
‘Thank you,’ I said, genuinely grateful I didn’t have to do anything for myself.
‘So,’ he said, ‘you will want to know how it all went?’
‘I do,’ I said. ‘I’ve heard some of it from Jerry.’
‘He would not have told you much,’ he said. ‘He is a very close man. It falls to me to amaze you with tales of our courage and ingenuity.’
I forked a chip. ‘Go on then, amaze me. Firstly, where were you? I didn’t see you when we arrived?’
‘I entered the grounds late last night, found myself somewhere snug and quiet and waited. I saw the car arrive and I watched you disappear. Using the skills for which I am legendary, I made my way around to the delivery door, concealed myself behind the wheelie bins and waited. Mr Jerry opened the door – I could have done it myself because my strength is also legendary but he was very insistent on the need for stealth – and we went inside. The man Jones was being kept downstairs in the second room in the first corridor to the left. He was a big man but using the strength …’
‘For which you are legendary …’
‘Oh, you’ve heard those stories, too … Well, using the strength for which I am legendary, I heaved him over one shoulder and we took him away.’
I f
rowned. ‘It all seems to have been very easy.’
‘Well-planned operations always seem that way. Your desire for violence and bloodshed is understandable – indeed, I share it – but Mr Jerry was adamant. Stealth and silence, he said, so stealth and silence I gave him.’
‘But … wasn’t he being monitored? Were there no cameras? No guards? Did no one see what you were doing?’
‘Well, I’m not too sure about that because my skills in that area are … less legendary … but there was a metal box on the wall – a big one – with the sign of lightning on the front …’
‘A junction box,’ I said, from a position of complete ignorance but certain that his ignorance was even more complete than mine.
‘I have no idea,’ he said calmly, sprinkling more vinegar on his chips, ‘and neither do I care. I only know that Mr Jerry attached a small device, informed me we now had only three minutes and twenty-five seconds to complete our task and escape the scene of the crime and to shift my arse.’ He smiled disarmingly. ‘So I shifted it. And Michael Jones, of course.’
‘With the strength for which you are legendary.’
He grinned and shovelled down more chips.
‘I took the man Jones to the car. In considerably less than the time allocated, just in case you were wondering. We operated the device that lifts the back seat. I stowed Jones away and, as instructed, drifted silently away, as unseen as the summer breeze itself.’
‘How?’
‘The river. I rowed up the river, played my part in our glorious adventure and then rowed back down the river.’
Jones himself had told me of this tiny hole in Sorensen’s security system. He’d used it, he told me, to enjoy peaceful afternoons fishing – and also to dispose of his empty bottles with all the discretion and care expected of a patient in a high-class mental establishment.
I got up to clear the plates. ‘Tea?’
‘Yes please.’
I was a little surprised he hadn’t brought the Flask of Utgard-
Loki again and wondered if perhaps he regretted telling me about Allia. He hadn’t mentioned her since that night, so neither would I.
I must have been even more tired than I thought. I dropped a cup. I don’t know how I managed that – I’m not usually clumsy. I stared at the fragments on the floor and it just seemed too much trouble to clear them away.
Iblis was behind me. ‘Go upstairs, Elizabeth Cage. Rest. I’ll see to this.’
‘Your legendary cup-clearing skills I assume.’
‘How well you know me,’ he said, imperturbably. ‘Go. And don’t worry about anything tonight. I am here.’
Chapter Twenty-One
I thought I would lie awake all night waiting for the knock on the door – if they bothered to knock, of course – but it never came. At least, I assumed it didn’t. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, and when I went downstairs the next morning, Iblis was watching the morning news and reported a quiet night.
He made us breakfast, saying it was his turn, and we sat down to eat.
‘They must have discovered Jones’s disappearance by now,’ I said. ‘Why hasn’t Sorensen been in touch?’
Because surely it wouldn’t have taken him any time at all to put two and two together. He would know that even though he was my alibi, I was mixed up in it somewhere. As was my taxi driver. They might not know who he was or how he’d done it, but they’d run such CCTV tapes as Jerry had left working and work it out. Jerry would be under investigation at this very moment. I hoped to God he and Jones were well hidden.
We had discussed my going with them but, not to put too fine a point on it, I was the decoy. I was the distraction while Jerry kept Jones safe. I was to remain here, visibly going about my business and seemingly completely uninvolved and unconcerned with events at the Sorensen Clinic. Although, as Jerry had said, if anything happened to me then it would be their job to come and rescue me. Or so I hoped. But I was strongest in my own home. And I had Iblis with me, currently wolfing down scrambled eggs on toast while I made do with a coffee and a piece of toast. I was on edge, constantly waiting for the telephone to ring.
‘Or that sinister knock on the door,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Although I don’t know why he should suspect you. You didn’t set up the meeting. You appeared at the time and place of his choosing. You remained with him throughout. He never lost sight of you. He walked you to a carefully set up empty car. Your taxi driver was visible and audible throughout almost the entire period. Yes, he disappeared to satisfy a biological need but everyone could see he was a frail old man and completely incapable of lifting the mountain known as Michael Jones. All they know is that the cameras went down for a few minutes and when they came back up again Jones was gone. And they don’t know about me at all,’ he finished complacently, ‘so if anyone turns up you are completely bewildered at this turn of events and none of it is anything to do with you.’
I pondered this. Everything he had said was true.
‘But,’ he continued, ‘I think you’re worrying unnecessarily.’
I got up for more coffee. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘I don’t think he’ll say anything to you at all.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Well, either you were involved and therefore you know Jones has gone and he has no further hold over you so there’s no point in him confronting you until he has clear evidence which he doesn’t, or …’ he paused for breath ‘… Or, he doesn’t suspect you in any way but he won’t want you to know he doesn’t have Michael Jones any longer. You may find, should you encounter him in the future, that he behaves as if Jones is still in his custody. You know … a giant bluff. Only you’ll know differently, won’t you?’
I thought about this. Again, everything he said was true. And sensible.
‘So all I have to do is hold my nerve and continue to act as normal.’
‘Just as Jerry instructed you to do, yes. But I am certain you won’t hear any more from this Sorensen man.’
The telephone rang. I stared at him accusingly.
He shrugged. ‘Or I may be completely wrong.’
I picked it up and said neutrally, ‘Hello?’
‘It’s me,’ said Jerry.
I remembered he’d said no names.
‘How’s it going?’
‘Bloody awful. Everything went wrong. Terrible journey. Road works all the way. Traffic jams. Every light against us. Shitty weather. He was sick all over the back seat. Twice.’
‘Oh no. How is he?’
‘Still not himself. So yeah, everything went wrong. Just one damned thing after another.’
‘How can I contact you?’
‘You can’t. And don’t try this number. Throwing the phone away after this call.’
‘All right. Good luck. Stay in touch.’
‘Yeah.’ The line went dead.
I spent the day alongside Iblis on the sofa because I very nearly fell down the cellar steps when I went down to do the washing, and the sofa seemed the safest place to be. We drank tea and criticised other people’s interiors, gardens and lifestyles and the day passed very peacefully.
Until someone knocked at the door.
Typical Sorensen – the dawn raid was too uncivilised. He turned up at tea time. Not that he was going to get any.
I had no intention of letting him in. I stood squarely in the doorway. He’d have to knock me down to get past me.
‘Mrs Cage, I wonder if I might come in for a moment.’
‘Dr Sorensen, I told you, I’ll call you when I’ve made a decision. If you’re going to pressure me then the answer is no – I will not work for you,’ and went to close the door.
Of course there was no way I was going to get rid of him that easily.
‘So I am to tell Michael Jones you’ve abandoned him to criminal prosecution for his part in the Clare Woods failure? I find it hard to believe you would do that Mrs Cage.’
‘And I find it hard to believe you hav
e this reputation for being a clever man.’
He took a moment to think that through, his thin white colour curdling around him. To anyone else he was self-assured and confident, but I could see the faint tinges of red anxiety. He was bluffing. He suspected me but he didn’t know for certain. He knew I’d been with him all the time. Not for one moment had I been unsupervised. But his instinct told him I was involved somehow. Was he here to make me give myself away? I let my mind drift a little … did he think I had Jones here? Had he gone to Jones’s flat on the other side of the river and found it empty so he’d come here? As if I had Michael Jones hidden in the cellar. Forgetting for a moment that that was the impression I usually tried so hard to give, I felt a certain resentment that he could think I was that stupid.
I swallowed it all down because Sorensen was giving me clues all the time and I didn’t want that working both ways. Iblis had been right. He didn’t have Jones any longer, but he wanted me to believe he still did.
We’d discussed whether Iblis should hide upstairs. I argued that as far as Sorensen knew, I was alone. If he saw Iblis – if he knew I had friends – or accomplices, as he would think of them – he’d put two and two together and come up with the correct answer. I was banking on him thinking I was the only person in the world who couldn’t have stolen Jones out from under his nose. So Iblis stood quietly in the corner, ready to move should he need to, but otherwise sworn to secrecy and silence.
‘Might I come in?’
I’m a very polite person. My parents insisted upon it. Always to say please and thank you. Always to be polite. Always to be considerate of others. On the other hand, sometimes it’s more important to get the message across than worry about hurting people’s feelings.
‘No.’
Smoothly, he moved up a gear. ‘I should warn you, Mrs Cage, I already have the charges against Michael Jones drawn up. I have only to send them to the appropriate department.’
He didn’t. He was lying. I could see it in the way his colour moved.
I put a little panic in my voice, vowing to myself that one day he would suffer for trying to frighten me like this. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe whatever you wish, Mrs Cage. Perhaps it will help you to reconcile your conscience over Mr Jones’s ultimate fate.’
