Lost Souls

by Michael Knaggs

  “Yes, I do. But that would be an amazing coincidence, wouldn’t it? I mean, particularly in central London.”

  “I’ve said all that and she still insists. I just wanted to check if you knew him – his background and such. Has he been there long?”

  “Just a few weeks and I’d never seen him before then. What do you want me to do, Jackie?”

  “I’m not sure; I’m still thinking about it. I have to say, it’s put me on edge a bit. Because if it is the same person, then it might not be just a coincidence. The last time, when he took Lucy, it was to warn me off the NJR task force, and now he suddenly re-appears right after my appointment as Home Secretary. I know that’s not logical because he couldn’t have known I was coming to see you, so he could hardly have been lying in wait for me, could he? Even so…”

  “And you say he ran away?”

  “That’s right – a sort of cheery ‘Hi’, then suddenly he was off.”

  “Okay, Jackie. I’ll drop in on him and see what I can find out. But I don’t think you need to worry. You’re right; there’s no way this could be anything to do with you. And listen, we must fix up another meeting and I’ll make sure I do better next time. Can’t be standing up my fans these days. I haven’t got that many left to lose.”

  Jackie gave another laugh, more relaxed this time. “Well, you’ll always have two here – that’s a promise. Night, Tom. Take care.”

  “Night, Jackie.”

  Tom put down the phone and walked back out of the apartment and across to his neighbour’s, banging hard on the door with the flat of his hand.

  “Oscar! I need a word with you, right away!”

  At twenty minutes before one o’clock on a Sunday morning, there was no reason to suspect anything unusual about a young, good-looking man with – seemingly – plenty of money, not being home. It was arguably the norm rather than the exception. But, somehow, Tom thought otherwise – he had a feeling that there was nothing very normal about Oscar Strange.

  He stepped back, looking at the keypad on the wall just to the left of the door handle. Four digits, like his own; ten thousand combinations – including four zeros. A piece of cake for the neat little memento in his bedroom from his Special Forces’ days. If he could find it.

  It took him less than five minutes; a small flat plastic rectangle the size and shape of an iPhone, with a screen on one side and a foil membrane on the other. Placing the membrane against the keypad he held down a button until a line of four digits appeared on the screen. He placed the device in his pocket and entered the numbers on the pad, hearing the lock release. He turned the handle and stepped into the hall.

  The light came on automatically with the opening of the door. He looked along the corridor, seeing that all the doors off it were closed. There were no clothes on the hall stand and no shoes on the low shoe rack next to it. The apartment was a mirror image of his own so the main bedroom would be the first door on the left. He opened it and looked in. The room was bare, with not a single piece of furniture in it. The next door opened onto the guest bedroom – also empty. He walked along to the large living room at the end, knowing what to expect.

  Tom retraced his steps across the landing to his own apartment. He took out his mobile to phone Jackie, and then thought better of it. Nearly one o’clock; she would almost certainly have gone to bed after she’d spoken to him. Tomorrow would do – or rather, later today. He went through to the master bedroom, placing his leather jacket on a hanger behind the door and emptying the pockets, as he did every night – at least when he was sober – before placing the contents – wallet, keys, and such – on the dressing table. In the side pocket, he felt something like a piece of card.

  He took it out. A square beer-mat, with the same picture on both sides – the silhouette of a penny-farthing bicycle on a light background. Above the picture on one side were the words, Jason – there is a way, and below it, a mobile phone number.

  *

  He waited until early afternoon to make his first phone call, knowing that, unless something unusual happened, John Mackay never missed the morning service at his church.

  “Tom, this is a surprise. How are you?”

  “Sober, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s not what I meant, but I’m glad to hear it.” There was a long pause.

  “Is everything alright, John?”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Just surprised to hear from you that’s all. So, to what do I owe…?”

  “A favour, please, John. Could you get someone to check out a gentleman called Oscar Strange – at least that’s what he calls himself. Early thirties, I’d guess, about six-one, slim, dark hair, sometimes wears glasses. I’ve no idea what he does or what his background is, only that he’s my new neighbour across the hall in SW1 and his behaviour is consistent with his surname.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well it’s difficult to pin it down. He seems to be spying on me – waiting for me virtually every time I arrive at or leave the apartment. But last night I went over to see him about something and found the place empty – and I mean empty. No furniture, clothes, food, any sign at all that anyone has been there, except for a couple of chairs, a coat stand and a few pictures in the hall.”

  “How did you get in if he wasn’t there?”

  “Well… the main door hadn’t closed properly. I just… sort of … pushed it open.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you did. Look, couldn’t he have just moved out while you weren’t there? That’s the obvious conclusion, isn’t it?”

  “But the other thing is, Jackie Hewlett and her daughter saw him coming out of his apartment yesterday when they were at Balmaha, and Lucy swears it’s the same guy who abducted her three years ago. And Jackie said that when he saw them, he sort of ran away.”

  “But she was just a little kid when it happened. She’s hardly likely to remember him.”

  “She was eleven, actually, and if it was him, that would explain why he ran away – you know – worried that Lucy would recognise him.”

  “Much more likely he was just doing a final check on the place, making sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Probably had a taxi waiting downstairs or he’d parked on double yellows or something, and that’s why he was in a hurry.”

  “But why would he leave the things in the hall? It’s like he just put a few things there so if anyone came to the door it would look like the place was occupied.”

  “I don’t know, perhaps they came with the apartment. I think you’re getting paranoid, Tom. I’ll look into it, but if he’s using a different name then there’s nothing to lead us to him. By the way, how’s your defence coming along? You do remember I’m one of the chief witnesses for the prosecution, don’t you? It’s not what I want, but…”

  “I know, John, and don’t worry, you won’t be called. I’ll be pleading guilty, as I’m sure everyone will expect. I just want it out of the way – assuming I won’t get a custodial sentence, of course.”

  There was no reply.

  “John, are you still there?”

  “Yes, yes, I do think that’s best all round. Get it over with as quickly as possible as you say. It’s going to be bad enough for you and Maggie – and Katey. By the way, you do know I’m working my notice at the moment?”

  “Really? No I didn’t know that. Unless I’ve been told and forgotten – which happens a lot.”

  “I told Maggie and just assumed…”

  “I see. Well, we’ve not been in touch lately. You’ve not resigned because of what happened with Jack, have you?”

  “I guess that came into it, but…”

  “That was hardly your fault, John. I’m so sorry.”

  “Not just that. A lot of other stuff as well. I planned to leave with immediate effect but Eddie Mills asked me to work a couple of months l
onger so I’d still be in post for your trial. He thought it would look a bit untidy otherwise – and I agree with him on that. But it’s about the only thing we have agreed on for a long time, so I’m ready to go.”

  “Well I hope everything goes well.”

  “And with you, too. In the meantime, I’ll look into the strange Mr Strange.”

  “Thanks, John.”

  He put the phone down and picked up the beer mat again.

  *

  The 800 or so acres of Hampstead Heath sit astride a sandy ridge which is one of the highest points in London. Designated a Site of Metropolitan Importance for Nature Conservancy, it is a magnet for city dwellers keen to sample a taste of the outdoors. It had been an adventure playground for Tom, his sister and two brothers; and he and Mags, with their own children, had been regular visitors.

  As always, he enjoyed the walk from Hampstead Heath station past the wide diversity of properties on Parliament Hill Road – all of which seemed to complement each other – before making the small step through the gap at the road end into a completely different world of meadows, trees, and ponds, culminating at the top of the Hill itself with the wonderful vista of the capital. Tom looked across at Canary Wharf, the Gherkin, the Shard and St Paul’s, their angles and curves picked out by the late afternoon sun; and his old place of work, the Houses of Parliament, albeit somewhat obscured by the surrounding buildings.

  The bench that was the terminus of his journey was over to his right and although he now knew the identity of the man waiting for him, he felt himself wanting to call out George’s name in greeting. Mike Needham, chief designer of Platform Alpha, got up from the seat to receive him with a warm handshake.

  “I get asked all the time,” Mike said. “‘Aren’t you the guy who did those speeches and wrote the book?’ I even had someone recently telling me how sorry they were about Irene. I just said thank you – I thought it would be too embarrassing for him to find out I wasn’t Mr Holland.”

  “I’m surprised we haven’t met before,” Tom said. “Amazing our paths haven’t crossed.”

  “Well they did cross, actually, but that was all, shortly after the platform was in position. I was leaving Alpha on the chopper you arrived in. The weather was closing in so it was a quick turn around – no time for introductions.”

  “So tell me, what’s a prominent engineer doing mixing with the riff-raff in the Penny Farthing – me included.”

  “As I said on the phone, I went there looking for you.”

  There were a few moments of uneasy silence.

  “Let’s sit down,” Mike said. “I see you came prepared.” He nodded at the small hold-all Tom was carrying.

  “As instructed,” Tom said. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Before I tell you, let me start with a confession.” Mike paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I didn’t follow orders exactly with the design of Alpha. That is, I didn’t follow official orders, which were to ensure there was no way off the platform. The facility was intended as a one-way trip, with no possibility of retrieving anyone once they were on there. Then someone decided otherwise. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know who made the decision and I can’t reveal who it was who told me about it. So no point in asking. Okay?”

  He glanced at Tom, who was looking straight ahead, eyes staring. “Okay,” he said. “For now, anyway.”

  “The new directive was to create a means of entry which could only be accessed from outside – leaving it open for egress, but not capable of being accessed from within the structure. Fairly simple, but because as few as possible had to know about it, the hardest part was getting it done involving only two people other than myself. We had to pretend we were strengthening part of one of the columns – anyway, you don’t need to know that – yet.”

  “Yet?”

  “Until you decide.”

  “Until I decide what?” Tom said. “Can you get to the point, please? What’s this about?”

  Mike frowned back at him. “Let me ask you a question. You said you read my note about twenty times. In light of what I’ve just told you, what do you think it means?”

  Tom thought for a moment, then repeated the words on the beer mat. “‘Jason – there is a way.’ You’re telling me we can get Jason off Alpha.”

  “Bravo,” Mike said, with a smile. “So you have to decide whether you want to try. Not now…” He held up his hands as Tom opened his mouth to speak. “Not until you’ve spoken to the man who can help you achieve that. So, do you want to meet him?”

  Tom didn’t speak for a long time.

  “Tell me, Mike. How did you know where to find me to give me the message?”

  “My nephew – a regular member of the Penny Farthing riff-raff. He mentioned a week or so ago that you’d been in there a few times telling everyone you were going to get Jason off Alpha. I asked him to let me know when you were next in and on Friday I got a text from him saying…”

  “Next question – why? Why do you want to help me get Jason back? You’re taking one hell of a risk telling anyone about this secret way in, let alone a drunk who doesn’t know what he’s doing or saying half the time. I’m sure you’re aware of my recent record of instability.”

  Mike breathed out and leaned back on the bench before replying.

  “The reason for deciding to contact you initially was to find out if you knew about the entry point. Because if you did – and because of your recent record of instability, as you put it – there was every chance you’d be telling everybody in the Penny Farthing about it sooner or later. And that would blow up in the government’s face, wouldn’t it? One of the NJR’s cornerstone principles – that expulsion is an irreversible step – turns out to be a lie; and revealed as a lie by the man who, six months ago, went on television and forcefully restated that principle to the nation at the time of the changes to drug dealer sentencing laws.”

  “So you were concerned that I might be mouthing off about saving Jason because I knew I could?”

  “Yes.”

  “That would make sense, Mike, if you hadn’t just told me yourself. In fact, I didn’t know about the entry site, so there would have been nothing to worry about. But I do now, so what next? I can’t promise not to get drunk again and next time I talk about rescuing Jason, who knows what I might say? I certainly don’t.”

  “I said that was initially the reason, and this is where it all gets a bit – well – mushy, I’m afraid. Because I found myself wanting to help you. I’ve followed your political career from the time you left the military, through your first campaign for a seat in parliament and every step along the way. And I’ve since been back through your record in the Forces as well – shunning a commission to start at the bottom, time in Ulster, transfer to the Marines, then the SBS, youngest ever appointment to the full rank of colonel. Hero of Sierra Leone, Shah-e-Kot, the Al Faw peninsula. A shining example of courage, loyalty and integrity. It appears there’s not a single thing wrong with you, Mr Brown. Somebody like that deserves helping, and I felt privileged to be in a position to oblige. There you go, I said it was mushy.”

  Tom said nothing.

  “And if all that is too over-sentimental for you, then think of it as you doing me a favour. It’s an opportunity to test the system. To gain entry, find Jason and get out again. To make sure the provision I made can actually work before we do the same on Beta.”

  “And what do we do with Jason if we get him back?”

  “We don’t do anything. Jason would be your responsibility – one hundred percent. And remember, he’s tagged, so there aren’t many places you can go where they can’t find him. In fact, somewhere in the northern half of Scotland is probably your only bet. But you need to know the answer to that question before you decide to go ahead, because my man will want nothing to do with him afterwards.”

&nbs
p; The two men sat in silence.

  “When exactly did you have this change of heart?” Tom said. “You know, from finding out what I knew to offering to help.”

  Mike smiled. “About five seconds before I wrote the message on the beer mat and slipped it into your coat pocket.”

  Tom snorted a laugh and they fell silent again.

  “So tell me,” Tom said. “Who knows we’re having this conversation?”

  “So far, just three people. You, me and the man I just mentioned; the one who can help you. Help us both, you might say.”

  Tom got to his feet, picking up the hold-all. “Okay, let’s go and talk to him.”

  Mike stood up and reached into his pocket, taking out a mobile phone. He held it out to Tom. “A present from me. Put your old one in there.” He pointed to a rubbish bin next to the bench.

  “Hey, just a minute…”

  “Where we’re going you won’t need it, but more to the point, they can find you if you hold on to it. That’s the deal.”

  Tom took out his mobile and looked at it for a long time before pitching it into the bin. He took the replacement from Mike and put it in his pocket as they set off back down the hill.

  *

  The jogger in tracksuit bottoms, running vest and trainers crested the rise and stopped at the bench. He was of average height, slim and muscular, with dark hair and a full, stubbly beard half-covering a hard, battered face. Over his right eye was a thin, horizontal scar, which showed up white against his tanned skin. He placed each foot alternately on the seat, leaning forward to stretch his other leg, repeating the exercise ten times. Then he checked his watch and sat down. After a couple of minutes he took a casual look round, and removed a cereal bar from his pocket. He ate it slowly, before placing the wrapper in the waste bin and picking up the discarded mobile phone. Then he set off jogging back the way he had come.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Monday; 26 October