The Big Ben mystery

by Fernando Trujillo

  "I understand your distrust," Wilfred assured him with the expression of a person who had had the same experience. "It was difficult for me to accept that my father is fifty years my junior, but it is true."

  Wilfred told Aidan how he had met his father three months ago. The same day he had received confirmation that his life would soon be over and that his cancer was in an advanced state. Then Ethan Gord appeared out of the blue and told him what anyone who didn't know his father would love to hear. The news was difficult to accept. However, Ethan mentioned a great number of details about Wilfred's mother and past. Ethan had never known that this one-night-stand girl had had a child. When he came to know he had a son, he was already involved in the mystery they were talking about and he couldn't reveal details about it. He had taken the risk only in order to help Wilfred be cured.

  Aidan listened carefully without missing a single detail. He couldn't stop his face revealing some distrust and anger. He was sure the old man was taking his own words as truth, and worst of all, he trusted him.

  "If I understood it right," Aidan said, "your father found a method to cure any disease and remain young. He might have discovered the Holy Grail. And, since you are dying, he decided to help by putting you on the track of those Black and White guys who fight with medieval arms, and he told you to look for me. He didn't say anything more because he had to keep the secret, otherwise he's facing a great danger. Am I leaving something out?"

  "I can understand that sarcasm might help you to accept it," Wilfred said in a serious voice. "Otherwise it is quite a decent summary. You should realize it isn't just an ordinary case like the ones you are used to."

  "I am already thinking that I'll never understand it."

  "That's a good start. I'd like you to free yourself from prejudice and open your mind. I haven't told you the worst yet."

  "What else have you got?" Aidan asked, exhausted. "It can't be any crazier than what you've just told me."

  "Your link to all of this. That's something I don't think you'll want to hear."

  The comment broke his exhaustion. "Tell me."

  "All of this had a beginning. Like I told you their lives before that moment were false, but from then on they're not. The curious thing is that everything we know about them begins from the exact same date."

  "You've lost me. Which facts are you talking about and what's it all got to do with me?"

  "Patience," Wilfred advised him. "Their first bank account, first home, that's what I mean by facts. All that stems from the same moment for all of them."

  "That's weird."

  "It's the same day Big Ben broke down. The chiming went crazy, the needles spun out of control. The clock stopped for a day. All of that was very strange. The clock still doesn't work like it used to, ever since that date, and no one knows why."

  "It's strange. But not that strange."

  "No? It happened exactly five years ago, on this same day. Doesn't that strike you as odd? Doesn't today mean something to you?"

  Aidan clenched his fists. "It's the day of the accident," he said, remembering the car hitting the water. "Are you sure about this?"

  "I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure. I'm sorry."

  "But this means my wife's death is involved in all of this. It can't be. Why?" he shouted, standing up and throwing the chair into the wall. The door swung open and the two bodyguards rushed in, their guns drawn, only to see Aidan smash the chair to splinters on the floor. Wilfred gestured for them to go back out. "I want to clear this up now."

  "Listen," Wilfred said. "We're in the same boat. We've both got our reasons for getting to the bottom of this. We've got to work together."

  "Why not? I could use your help."

  "Sure," Wilfred agreed. "Whatever you need. You could do with a new car for starters. You'll have it when you leave. And I suggest you see James White first. I've got his address. I know you couldn't locate him this morning."

  "How do you know where he is? Anyway I've got something else to do first."

  "One of my men has been following James White since he left hospital. I insist that that's your next move. Leave your wife's death to later. Perhaps, it was you they wanted to kill in the first place."

  "Or both," Aidan thought aloud. "Can I count on your support?"

  "Of course. I've told you we both want the same thing."

  "Ok, this is what we're going to do," Aidan said. "Tomorrow I'll go and see James White and find out what he knows. I want your men to follow Bradley Kenton. I want him followed from the moment he sets foot outside the jail, and I want to know when he's alone."

  "That's not a good idea," Wilfred said.

  "That's not negotiable," Aidan advised him. "If you want my help, that's what I want you to do. If not, go to hell."

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 13

  What happened earlier that morning had confirmed Phillip's belief that marriage is archaic and unnatural and impossible to extract anything positive from.

  "It seems that you like contradicting me," Ann protested, staring at her husband with hatred in her eyes. "You can't do anything for me without complaining."

  Her husband, Colin, rubbed his forehead.

  "What are you talking about? You're the one who always does what she wants. You're used to getting your own way. Whenever I give my opinion…"

  The loving couple had revealed to Phillip every detail of a marriage that was barely three years old, and after several minutes he couldn't understand why they weren't already divorced. Their ability to convert the smallest issue in the marriage into a major dispute was extraordinary. They were the first clients of the day and he was hardly awake. He'd offered them his best smile when they'd walked through the door, but he hadn't even turned the computer on or had a cup of coffee. Now, he regretted not having sneaked out by the rear door and left the two of them alone to fight it out.

  They continued arguing as if he wasn't there while he watched them fearfully. It wasn't easy to determine who was ahead on points. Maybe the wife. Her aggressive body language and the fire in her eyes, burning into her husband's reddening face, stamped her as the eventual winner. But there was still some fight left in Colin, at least for now.

  "You've been on at me for three years," he argued, "making all the decisions. But I won't give in on this."

  "So, it's my fault that you're incapable of making rational decisions. The only thing that interests you is watching football. And the only worry you've got is, who's playing tonight?" she said, imitating his voice.

  "That's got nothing to do with it. Leave football out of it. Loosen up a bit, because this bloke here must be sick of listening to you."

  "Are you a complete fool? I've already explained that football's got nothing to do with this. When we go shopping for something connected with that damned sport, I let you do the buying. You should be grateful for that." She turned to look at Phillip pushing the papers with the two offers across the desk. "Can you give us a sincere answer and tell us what you really think? I think he'd appreciate you telling him that only someone without a brain could make a choice like his."

  They both waited, expecting the salesman to tip the balance one way or the other. But he was scared of doing that, terrified almost of stepping into the melee. Her question had caught him by surprise.

  "Well I… I…" he stuttered. "It's certain that the choice of a house is very personal. I could advise…"

  "You've put him under pressure on purpose," Colin accused her. "And that doesn't surprise me too much, because having to face a tigress like you, this poor devil here won't dare say anything because he's scared you'll flatten him."

  "Nothing of the sort, fool," Ann went to slap him but he ducked. Seeing that, Phillip imagined that the husband's reflexes had had plenty of practice. "If you'd let him finish maybe we'd know what he thinks."

  "Mr and Mrs White, if you'd let me make a suggestion," Phillip said, beginning to realize that if he didn't intervene now, they would most likely spend the w
hole morning the same way. Besides, he worked on commission. "I think if we compare both offers thoroughly, we should be able to reach an agreement about which one is the best."

  "I've got no problem with that as long as she doesn't open that big mouth of hers all the time," Colin said, dodging another slap.

  "Well said, young man," she said turning back to the salesman. "I will try to ignore my husband for a couple of minutes while we study this better." She paused with the two papers in her hands, stopping any comment from Colin with a look that resembled a snarl. A little more of this and she'd have the situation under control. Things were shifting her way. "Which of the two apartments has more usable space? And which one comes with garage parking included?" She waited until the salesman had confirmed the same apartment. "What a coincidence. And which one of the two has a common garden and sports facilities? And which is in a residential neighbourhood?"

  "That's enough," Colin interrupted. "You're repeating the obvious."

  "Why are you such a hardhead? My apartment is much better. Yours is in a suburb that looks like a latrine. Why do you want to live there when they both cost the same? I don't understand you."

  "It's close to work," Colin insisted. "That's what's important. I've already told you that."

  "But it's our life. Our life! Can't you take a little more time getting to work so that we can live in a better place?"

  Phillip's vast sales experience told him that the deal was all but finalised. Ann had used all her feminine guile to get this far. The soft voice she was now using, the sensitive look framed by the flutter of her eyelashes, the poor little animal look that made it impossible for Colin not to capitulate with a typical for you I would do anything, sweetheart.

  "No!" Colin replied, dryly. "I can't. I've never asked anything of you and I'd do anything within my power for you, but I have to buy the other house. It doesn't matter about the other offers. It has to be that one."

  "But…why?" Ann asked, on the verge of tears. Phillip could see that Colin had had it clear in his mind from the moment they'd walked in. "I only want to understand why? What is driving you and making you so stubborn?"

  "I can't explain that. Maybe it's crazy. But something tells me that I've got to live in that house. It can't be any other way."

  "You're as mad as a hatter," Ann snapped, standing up. "You buy the damn house on your own. I can see you don't need me."

  She turned and stormed out of the office. Colin didn't even watch her go. He waited until he'd heard the door close then gave Phillip the paper with the details of the house he wanted.

  "Start the paperwork," he said. "I'm in a hurry."

  # # #

  Aidan Zack cursed as his foot smashed into the table leg.

  "I'm coming," he said, sitting down on the sofa massaging his big toe instead of heading for the door. And it wasn't only the toe that was throbbing. He'd had more than his share of Glenfiddich the night before and his eyes were barely open, and the little light that was filtering into his brain only made things worse. There was more banging on the door.

  "Why did you take so long to open the door?" Carol asked when she finally saw his bleary head and what he was wearing. "Now, now. Do you always receive visitors like this?"

  "What do you want, Carol?" he said, standing there in his underwear, trying to work out how to get back to bed as soon as he could. "I'm not at my best this morning. Can we meet later?"

  "Later? What's going on with you? Aren't you worried? The way you left yesterday without saying a word. You haven't done anything stupid, have you?" Carol asked, walking past him.

  "I'm a big boy. The only thing I need now is for you to start behaving like Lance. Then I'll have two babysitters."

  Aidan didn't even see it coming with his vision blurred the way it was.

  "You're an idiot!" she screamed, belting him on the forearm. "All this talk about self-control and now you're on the booze again. Is that why you wanted to be alone? How disappointing."

  "Stop hitting me and let me explain."

  He waited until she had calmed down. He noted she had the evidence of the half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich in her hand. She looked wild.

  "What are you going to do?" she despaired. "Give me an excuse that only drunks do. You needed help yesterday. Why did you prefer the bottle to me?"

  She slammed it down so hard on the table that it fell from there onto the floor, but as she made for the door, he grabbed her by the arm.

  "Wait, Carol," he insisted, as she tried to twist out of his vice-like grip. "I didn't get drunk. I've got a headache because I'm not used to drinking. But I'm fine. I didn't lose track of what I was doing for a second. I swear."

  "You were drunk for almost a year," she said, stepping back from him to get a look at his eyes. "Don't forget, I did my homework on your past. And I wouldn't like to see you fall into that trap again."

  "Don't worry. That's not going to happen."

  And then he saw it. It was strange that he hadn't seen it before. Carol felt something for him. And maybe, he felt something for her too. At least, with her so close and his hand holding her arm, he felt what he should have felt being near a beautiful woman. But if it had been unconscious before, it certainly wasn't now. It was better to let go of her or she'd soon realize what was going on in his head. He released his grip, and for the first time since she'd entered the room, he was aware of his lack of clothing.

  "Promise me it won't happen again."

  "I promise." He paused. "But you haven't told me what you're doing here?"

  "I've got some interesting information about the Blacks and Whites."

  Aidan's eyes lit up on hearing that, and the conversation with Wilfred the night before came storming back. And along with that, the link between his wife's death and everything else.

  "I'll tell you what I've got after you've had a shower. You look awful. I'll make some coffee in the meanwhile."

  It seemed like a good idea. Some of his best thoughts came in the shower. He didn't have time to analyse his emotions, or hers. Something was going on between them, that was for sure, but the timing was out of sync. Leave it for later, seemed good advice. And what was more important was whether Wilfred's men had already rung him. Maybe he'd slept through the call? Carol had said it was late. He dried himself quickly and went looking for his mobile. He was surprised to find there'd been no call.

  While he was getting dressed he decided not to tell Carol or Lance anything about his conversation with Wilfred. There'd only be a lot of uncomfortable questions and it was possible they'd guess what he was going to do, especially Lance, who knew him inside out. And he wouldn't agree with him. He knew that. Knew they would try and stop him carrying out his plan. And they were probably right. They'd be worried about the consequences, if he told them, worried about him. And even though the plan wasn't brilliant, it wasn't that bad either. It might work, then again it might not. It was better in the end, he reasoned, just to leave them in the dark.

  After half a cup of coffee, Aidan Zack felt his old self again for the first time since he'd woken up. He stared through the window at the wind pushing hard into the rain, at the dark clouds threatening more from where that came from, and walkers shivering their way along the street. Staying where he was with Carol and a mug of hot coffee in his hand made more sense than being out there in that.

  "What have you found out about our friends?" he asked her, doubting that she knew any more than Wilfred.

  "Something very curious," she answered, "which might change your mind about who you should visit first."

  Aidan turned back from the window. He'd wanted to locate Earl Black as quickly as he could, but Wilfred's advice was still ringing in his ears. And he had James White's address.

  "When I got home yesterday I found an envelope waiting for me, with the addresses of all the Blacks and Whites. I spent the whole night going over it. And one thing I found very interesting was when they move house."

  "Why would someone send a letter t
o you with that information in it?"

  "No idea. I don't know who left it or where it came from. But it's pretty obvious that whoever sent it wanted me to find out what I'm telling you now."

  "Go on," he told her.

  "They're constantly on the move, more often than they were five years ago."

  "I'd still like to see Earl Black first. We could check out this house-moving bit with him, if it'd make you feel any better."

  "Let me finish," she snapped. "There's more. As weird as it sounds, their house moving is connected with Big Ben. There's information about that in the envelope, too. Every time one of them moves, the clock is affected."

  "I've got an open mind these days, but this is over the top."

  "It's just like I said. When they move, the clock chimes out of tune, and two of its faces stop working."

  Aidan remembered Lance talking about something similar, and Wilfred had said the clock had gone haywire five years before.

  "Let's suppose that's true," Aidan conjectured. "What's the next step? Investigate the clock?"

  "I've already done that. I spoke to two maintenance men this morning. They've got no idea what's wrong with the clock. They just keep rewinding it."

  "And your conclusion?"

  "I haven't got any idea. But there's an interesting angle." She paused, watching Aidan scratch his head. "After they've killed someone, they start living in the victim's house."

  "And their wives go along with that?"

  "Most probably not, but they still do it. And if there are other family members they abandon their previous homes happily."

  Aidan said nothing as strange theories worked their way through his head. He needed answers and the best way of getting them was to go direct to the source. But thinking of his line of questioning with Earl Black touched a nerve. What was he going to ask him? Do you teletransport? Do you know your twin who died with three arrows in his heart? Why are you trying to kill the White family? And the coup de grâce, what's wrong with Big Ben?