Then He Was Gone

by Stephen Edger

  ‘I don’t believe it’s true for an instant. Jules wouldn’t cheat on Adie. She loved him, and he adored her. They had the strongest marriage I’ve ever seen. Jules isn’t the kind of woman who cheats on her partner. She just wouldn’t.’

  ‘Can you be so sure? You misjudged Lemaire.’

  ‘Hey, that’s not fair. I only knew Antoine for a couple of days. I’ve known Jules most of my life.’

  ‘Her reaction to the story was not one of complaint. She did not deny it. Running to the bathroom is the action of a guilty person, non?’

  ‘You’re wrong. She’s under a huge amount of pressure at the moment. She’s stressed out! With Noah still missing, and learning this morning that her husband…it’s a lot to take in. I think her reaction was fair enough. I feel sick just thinking about it.’

  ‘What is this about her husband?’

  Becky waved her hand. ‘It’s nothing, forget I said anything. What’s going on with Antoine? Have you charged him?’

  He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to say more. When she didn’t, he continued. ‘Lemaire has signed a full confession, and this morning he led us to the two graves. We discovered two sets of bones, one adult and one child. The doctor will try to determine if they belong to Lemaire’s daughter and the man he claims to have killed. I believe they will. The question is whether Lemaire’s story is the truth or not.’

  ‘I don’t follow. You don’t believe he did it?’

  ‘I believe that he killed and buried the man on his farm, but I do not know whether he also killed and buried his daughter. It is possible that he killed her, but was maybe discovered by the farm helper, and he killed him to cover the secret. It is possible, non?’

  ‘Is there anyone you do trust?’

  ‘I find in this job, it is better to trust nobody but myself.’

  Becky waited until he’d left before seeking out Julia in the bathroom. She was curled up on the floor next to the toilet bowl. Becky didn’t need to ask if the newspaper article was true; it was written all over Julia’s face.

  THIRTY-THREE

  He wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He’s been working non-stop for more than two hours, but the trickiest part is still to come. It is nearly eleven, and he knows he should sleep, but there isn’t the time. The fluorescent light overhead whirs and flickers. What he would give for natural light. He lifts the soldering iron, and applies it to the circuit board. It fizzes and emits a puff of smoke, which he blows away. He gives the piece of cable a slight tug, but it comes away from the circuit board. He lowers the soldering iron and curses.

  I need sleep. One mistake, and…

  The outcome of an error doesn’t bear thinking about. He slides off the stool and moves across to the shadowy corner of the room, away from the hum of the light. The room is no more than eight feet square, with a workbench at its centre. The workbench is covered with components and cables. The main casing is standing on the stool, at the opposite end of the room. The second plutonium core, which he collected earlier, is in a small unplugged fridge on the floor. This room is lead-lined, which is why no natural light can penetrate through. If it wasn’t for the watch on his wrist, he’d have no idea what time of day it was. He doesn’t even know if it’s still raining outside. He cannot leave the room until the work is complete. His eyes start to close as he leans against the wall.

  A bang on the door wakes him.

  How long was he asleep for?

  He checks his watch again, but no time has passed. He isn’t expecting a visitor. He moves to the door, and slides it open a fraction so he can look out. He grips the Glock behind his back.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Karen asks.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘He sent me. He said securing the core in the device was a two-person job. I assume I’m not too late?’

  ‘You’re no engineer. I don’t need you.’

  She tucks a stray lock of her red hair behind her ear. ‘I know you don’t trust me, but we’re on the same -’

  ‘You’re right: I don’t trust you.’

  ‘Well, he does, and that should be enough for you.’

  His finger brushes the trigger, but he keeps the Glock tucked into his jeans.

  ‘Besides,’ she continues, lifting a polythene bag into the light, ‘I’ve brought supplies.’

  He slides the door open further and steps aside. He catches the scent of her perfume as she sashays past.

  She moves to the workbench and studies the circuit board he was working on. ‘Is there much more to do?’

  He removes a can of energy drink from the bag, opens it and starts drinking. He belches. ‘I’ve connected the laptop’s motherboard to the mobile phone, so it will be able to receive the signal. I’m in the process of building the bridge between the laptop and the frame, which will hold the core. When that’s done, I need to check that the device will receive the signal and trigger, before I add the core.’

  She glances around. ‘Where is it?’

  He points. ‘In the fridge over there.’

  ‘Is it dangerous?’

  ‘The casing only emits a nominal dose of radiation. It would only kill you over time. We’ll be safe enough.’

  ‘And this room?’

  ‘Keeps the radiation contained. Any passing police choppers won’t pick up on it.’

  ‘When will it be ready?’

  He places the can of drink on the edge of the workbench. ‘Within the hour.’ He rethreads the wire into the circuit board, and picks up the soldering iron. ‘No more questions. I need to concentrate.’

  She places a finger to her lips in acknowledgement. Her lips curl into a smile as she sees his eyes linger for too long. He quickly looks away.

  He holds the solder against the wire and presses the iron on it. When he tugs on the cable, it holds in place. He looks up as he hears her removing her coat. Her back is to him, and he can’t help but imagine fucking her against the workbench. He imagines what it would be like to choke the life out of her as he climaxes.

  He can’t shake the grin from his face, as he walks over to the casing on the stool. ‘It is time to test it.’

  THIRTY-FOUR

  DAY FIVE

  Becky had never liked Wednesdays. Even as a child, she’d always wanted to stay in bed and ignore the day. When the Boomtown Rats released the hit I Don’t Like Mondays, she used to change the chorus to Wednesdays. It was such an underwhelming day: the previous weekend was now a distant memory, but the next weekend was still two days away.

  Of course, this week was different in that the last weekend was still at the forefront of everybody’s minds. It still pained her to remember the sinking feeling when they couldn’t find Noah in the hypermarket, and the blind panic when they’d first watched the figure leading him away on the security footage. She was certain if the abduction had happened in the UK that there would have been a breakthrough in the case by now. It wasn’t that she didn’t really speak the language, but it just didn’t feel like Durand had made any progress in identifying who the figure in the baseball cap was. Was Owen’s explanation so ridiculous? Could Yasin have snatched Noah as revenge for Adie’s actions? Or were Owen’s recollections the imaginings of a man suffering with PTSD? That was Julia’s outlook.

  Julia was less optimistic about life when she’d woken this morning. The hyperactivity from the previous morning was gone, and Becky worried that her friend was starting to accept the fact that she might never see her son again. That was the worst part of this whole thing: not knowing if Noah was still alive. At least if they discovered his body, Julia could take the necessary steps towards closure, but this was worse.

  Yesterday’s tabloid exclusive had done nothing to make life easier. Julia had said she didn’t want to talk about it last night, and so Becky had given her the space she demanded, and had spent the night in the bar, not that any of the other guests had dared approach her. She’d felt like a leper. Each time, one of the guests had stepped into
the room, they’d suddenly changed their mind and retreated.

  The television hanging from the corner of the wall in the bar had been showing football. Even though she detested the game, it had served as a temporary distraction. She’d wondered if Caleb had been watching the match. Having not heard from him since their argument on Sunday night, she’d decided to call him instead. She’d nervously put the phone to her ear, uncertain what she would say to him. She didn’t feel she should apologise for wanting to support Julia, but she’d missed talking to him. The phone had rung and rung, before his voicemail had eventually engaged. She’d decided against leaving a message. He’d said he was going on a course, so it was possible he was just too busy to speak to her. She knew what these retreats could be like: lots of booze and dares.

  They were eating breakfast when the hotel manager burst into the dining room and nervously approached their table. ‘Excusez-moi, mesdames. There is a gentleman at the front desk who wishes to speak with you.’

  Becky wiped her mouth with a napkin. ‘Who is it? Monsieur Durand?’

  ‘Non. Pardonnez-moi. He says he needs to speak with Madame Saidi urgently. I thought maybe you would like to speak to him in private.’ He anxiously glanced at the other guests, keen to avoid a scene.

  They followed him back to the front desk, but Julia immediately regretted it. ‘Hussein, what the fuck are you doing here?’

  The man at the desk was shorter than Becky had expected, with a portly belly beneath his dark shirt. He was wearing a long coat and sunglasses, like he was trying to hide his identity, but epically failing. If anything his disguise had drawn greater attention to his presence, but then maybe that was the point.

  Hussein Shadid stepped forward to kiss Julia on the cheek, but she pushed him back. ‘Keep away from me. I can’t believe the lies you told that newspaper. And now you’ve come over here to make things worse.’

  ‘Please, Julia, I want to explain. I didn’t know they would sensationalise it so much.’

  ‘Don’t give me that! You knew exactly what you were doing. You were always jealous of Adie.’

  He eyed Becky cautiously, before pulling Julia to one side. ‘We need to talk about this, Julia. When you had Noah, I never thought that he could be mine. But then they printed his date of birth in the newspaper, and I did the maths. We were together, exactly nine months before he was born. He’s mine, isn’t he?’

  Julia blushed, but refused to make eye contact with Becky. ‘I can’t deal with this now, Hussein. You shouldn’t have come here. Please go. I’ve got enough on my plate already.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not while my son is still out there. I want to speak to the man running the investigation. I want to know why they haven’t found him yet.’

  ‘Hussein, this is nothing to do with you. You’re making things worse. The media need to focus on where Noah is, not whether his mum cheated on his dad. I can’t deal with this. Just go.’ Julia headed for the stairs, with Becky rushing after her.

  Becky waited until they were in the room and the door was closed before speaking. ‘I’m not judging you, Jules, but what the fuck?’

  ‘Don’t, please? God, this is such a mess.’

  ‘Is the story true? Did you sleep with Hussein while Adie was on duty?’

  Julia screwed up her face. ‘Yes. Okay? It’s true. I fucked Hussein while my loving husband was off being a hero. Happy now?’

  Becky took a deep breath. ‘No, I’m not happy, Jules. I’m your friend, and I’m here to support you through thick and thin. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Surprised that you cheated on Adie, and surprised that you kept Noah’s true father a secret.’

  ‘The truth is: I don’t know who Noah’s father is. Yes, I slept with Hussein, and we were too drunk to think about protection, but I’d slept with Adie two days before, so it could be either of them. I tried not to think about it while I was pregnant. I told myself that it had to be Adie’s, and then when Noah was born, he looked like Adie did as a child, so I kept on believing it.’

  ‘Were you never tempted to have a paternity test done privately?’

  Julia shook her head. ‘What if it confirmed that Noah wasn’t Adie’s? I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt. Adie was an amazing father to Noah, so regardless of who fertilised me, Adie is Noah’s father.’

  ‘Forgive my bluntness, but Adie isn’t around anymore. If there’s a chance that Noah could be Hussein’s, isn’t it better that Noah’s father be in his life? Absolutely anything. Don’t you think Hussein and Noah have a right to know the truth?’

  ‘One thing at a time. I want Noah back first, then I can think about the future.’

  There was a knock at the door. Becky raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you want me to get it?’

  ‘No. This is my mess, I know how to sort it.’ Julia marched over to the door, and pulled it open. Hussein was standing there, but he’d removed his sunglasses. Julia didn’t invite him in. ‘I told you to go.’

  ‘Julia, please. Hear me out first. The money the newspaper paid me, I want to offer it as a reward for information about Noah. Whether he is mine or not, I don’t want the money. Maybe money will convince someone to tell us where Noah is.’

  ‘I don’t want your blood money, Hussein. You earned it, you should keep it.’

  ‘Please, just introduce me to the investigator, and I will do the rest.’

  ‘How much did they pay you?’

  ‘Twenty thousand pounds, but I will double that figure for the reward money.’

  Julia slapped him across the face. ‘Twenty grand! Is that it? Is that all it took for you to drag my name through the mud. You’d better get out of this hotel, or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.’

  He opened his arms out, but she shoved him hard. He clattered against the door opposite. Julia stepped forward and wagged a finger in his face. ‘You retract that story and say it is a lie, or God help me, you will live to regret it!’

  She marched back into the room, slamming the door behind her.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Becky stirred the ice cubes in the small glass with her straw. ‘Are you sure it’s too early for wine?’

  Julia didn’t smile. ‘After the amount you packed away last night, I’m surprised you’d want any more.’

  They were in the hotel’s dining room, waiting for their lunch to arrive. The room was empty apart from them, with the other hotel guests choosing to eat elsewhere for lunch, or busy out enjoying their holidays.

  Becky frowned. ‘How do you know how much I had last night?’

  ‘You were snoring. You only ever snore when you’ve been drinking wine. It’s a tell-tale sign.’

  She blushed. ‘Caleb had never mentioned that she snored after wine, but then maybe he was being polite. ‘We can’t stay here all day. We should go out and do something.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like…I don’t know what like. Something. Anything. I’m fed up with seeing the same walls and the same people. I feel like I’m in prison or something.’

  ‘Ah, well forgive me for not being up for drinking and clubbing. If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got one or two other things on my mind at the moment.’

  ‘Alright, Jules. No need to bite my head off. I don’t need reminding of what you’re going through at the moment. I’m living this nightmare too, remember?’

  Julia sighed. ‘I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just…I’m frustrated. I feel trapped too. There’s nothing I can do to find him, and it’s killing me.’

  ‘That’s why we should go somewhere. There’s nothing we can do here. Durand will phone us the moment he knows something. We need to temporarily forget about all of this. It’s not healthy focusing on it all day every day. You’ll make yourself ill. All I’m suggesting is we go somewhere or do something. Go to a tourist attraction. Anything that will make us feel…more normal again. What do you say?’

  Julia sighed again. ‘I suppose you’re right. But apart from Cité Europ
e, I don’t know anything nearby.’

  ‘We could ask the hotel manager. He’s bound to be able to…’ Her words trailed off as something on the television caught her eye.

  The blood drained from Becky’s face. Julia turned to see what her friend was staring at, but couldn’t see what was so interesting. ‘It’s just the same report about Noah. We’ve seen it like a gazillion times.’

  ‘No, no, Jules. It’s not. It’s another one. They’ve launched a new Alerte-Enlèvement.’

  Julia looked at the television again, as the image of a sweet-looking young girl filled the screen. ‘Oh my God. Another child is missing. Who is she? What are they saying? Is it the same person who took Noah?’

  Becky didn’t answer, instead launching herself from the table and disappearing out of the room. She returned a moment later, dragging the hotel manager with her. ‘Please, can you translate?’

  The manager increased the set’s volume and listened intently. ‘They say a little girl has gone missing…she is the second child this week who has been taken…police have initiated une Alerte-Enlèvement …she was last seen at a park.’

  Julia grabbed his arm. ‘What about Noah? Have they said anything about my son?’

  He opened and closed his mouth several times, while listening. ‘The police have set up road blocks to try and catch the perpetrator…they will be releasing more pictures of the girl soon. I’m sorry there is nothing about your son.’

  ‘Where did it happen? Here in Calais again? Was she taken from Cité Europe?’

  ‘Non, she was at a park near Gravelines. It is a small town, maybe fifteen minutes from here.’

  ‘Gravelines? She was snatched in Gravelines?’ Julia turned to Becky. ‘It has to be the same person. It’s too much of a coincidence to be anyone else. We need to get there. If Durand can catch whoever took the girl, he’ll find Noah. Please, Becky, we have to go now.’