by Tim Heath
An hour later he felt satisfied that he’d found all he was going to see and things were beginning to come together in his mind. Brendan had been in contact with Jessica and the family business long before things had turned bad, which gave far too much opportunity, as Robert saw it. Her father’s business had suffered far more than it would have done before, due to Nigel flooding the market with technologies way too advanced for their time, and therefore it put all the existing companies, including Jessica's father’s, in an impossible situation. But that, Robert was sure, still wasn’t enough to push her father over the edge. Robert remembered those old news images of the sorrowful parents at the funeral of the great but fallen Jessica Lawrence, as she was then, and how well that elderly couple had dealt with things and the media attention once again thrown their way.
Brendan was too conveniently placed in her life at that time just to be an innocent bystander. It was starting to add up all too clearly.
Robert got up from the terminal, satisfied at last, and left, taking the chance at the main desk to ask of the whereabouts of Jessica, only to have it confirmed that she no longer worked there.
Robert smiled as he left the building, crossing the road when it was clear and returned to his car. If she was no longer working there then she could only be with Tommy Lawrence, and with nowhere else to go and the city a dangerous place, a trip up to Nottingham to drop in on the happy couple seemed the order of the day. Robert waited for a bus to pass him on the now busy street and pulled away, heading north.
Nigel had slept very little but was surprisingly alert and awake before seven as he jumped out of bed, aware that it might be his last day in the house, eager to make every moment count. Skipping breakfast, he dressed in some comfortable clothes and took to the garden, his private walled oasis in a world that demanded so much from him only because he demanded so much from it. He walked down to the edge of the little brook that he’d had created, the water dashing, fresh and clean to the touch, its actual source being a natural spring that had been discovered on the land when construction was well underway.
Walking along the stream, Nigel savoured the plants and trees gathered from all corners of the world over the last decade and wondered if, in fact, this would be the last time he would see them. It was, of course, possible that he could have them transported and replanted but that was doubtful, unsure if even his estate would survive for long, primarily if hostilities arose.
One of the options to hunt down Robert he’d code-named Wipe Out and he’d finalised it only in the last month or so, since the emergence and confirmation of Robert and who he was. Knowing that there was another Door in operation but having no way of finding its location, outside of the fact that it was obviously fairly close to the city, Wipe Out could be implemented so that areas were utterly destroyed and with it, he hoped, the Door and maybe Robert. It was, of course, probable that in such an attack Robert would take safety on the other side of the Door, figuring he would be safer taking his chances on the run in his own time than being blown up back here. That scenario was also excellent as once the Door was destroyed, Robert would be trapped on the other side and would have no way of getting back to him.
Quite how he would carry out the attacks, Nigel was yet to decide, but it would probably be along the lines of some other nation attacking, or being perceived to attack, the UK, especially the areas surrounding London. The weapons, of course, would be state of the art missiles that Nigel had on hold at various bases around Europe, too advanced for tracking and the first the UK Defence Services would know of them would be when they’d hit the ground, the damage already severe. Such an attack would be crippling and would leave the nation vulnerable, though he’d keep clear of London initially until he knew how successful he’d been. Such an attack would also be the work of a desperate and evil man, but Nigel was long past those thoughts now, so fixed was he upon the delusion that he could keep his life forever and therefore could justify in his mind what he was doing as it was merely defending his position.
If needed, though, Nigel would push things further. The initial attacks he imagined would close all borders and put the UK on the highest level of alert it had ever known. If Robert were to survive somehow, he would be trapped. A strike then on London, cutting off the head of the nation, so to speak, would leave them open to a land invasion, the sole purpose being to destroy any Wentworth Door and in the process any threat to himself. There were several nations and governments that Nigel knew would be only too happy to assist him on that front once he’d promised to hand the country into their lap. Britain had many enemies, it was correct, due to their foreign policy over the last decades.
Such an option would change the world as he knew it. But it was still a last resort, a cut and run. Nigel would not be able to use his Door, and he would therefore just have to stay in that present time, but this was home to him now anyway, and he was already set up for life. The Door would be unusable because, with so much death and destruction in the UK, there was no way of knowing what effect it would have on his old existence. If he wiped out his own great grand-parents in this time, his line would never be born, and so if he returned, Nigel might find he had no existence in the future, and he didn’t like to take those chances.
At that moment, pulling him back to reality, a group of starlings took to the air from high up on one of his monkey puzzle trees which stood majestically along the south side of his garden. Nigel carried on walking around, getting to the final area of the garden to have been finished, and that only two years ago, a splendid Japanese garden, the materials for which were transported especially for him all the way from the outskirts of Tokyo. Its beautifully crafted stone bridges and walls looking almost magical at that time of day, the water glistening in the early morning sunshine. In the distance he heard the sound of his private jet being fired up for a test flight, his aircrew having been notified yesterday about the day’s requirements. At midday, a large cargo plane would also be landing there, and that would transport a lot of his own belongings, including the Door.
It was while standing there that he realised there was no need even to transfer the Door anywhere as it had outlived its usefulness to Nigel. Now was his life, and this was his existence. He did not need to return to what had once been his home but now meant nothing to him. Transferring the Door would involve too many questions and would take a lot of planning. If he was to destroy it, he could then just pack some of the things he needed and go, replacing everything else new once in Germany. That way he could call off the cargo plane, which quite frankly would only attract a lot of unwanted attention, and instead just slip away during the day, his departure mostly unnoticed.
Yes, it sounded almost perfect to him now. To the outside world, he would appear to be at home. He wouldn’t even tell his security guards that he’d gone so that if Robert ever did come around looking for him, it would be hard to get in without being shot, and even if he made it, Nigel would leave some explosives awaiting anyone inside.
He hurried back up the garden planning to call off the cargo plane to keep everything as low key as possible. Nigel would then need to get hold of some explosives from his own supply, to rig something up in his room and on the Door itself. It wasn’t the first time he’d used bombs and he knew what he was doing.
As he re-entered his room, there was a kind of victory smile on his face, the kind of smile that said that, at whatever cost, it was all going to work out for him now, that he was going to be free at last!
It had been a good run north for Robert as the traffic had been flowing quite freely that morning and he’d found himself on the outskirts of Nottingham by around lunchtime. Leaving London gave him the strange sense of leaving one life behind, though of course, he was far from free and still a wanted man. So much had happened to him in such a short space of time. Less than two months ago he’d been spending his days with his colleagues in the Agency, drinking too much coffee as they tried hard to crack the technology needed to get that Door
working. Then he had a home to go back to and people who knew him. And yet now, none of that existed, and things were only getting worse. The momentary loneliness he’d felt at times back there was only magnified in this strange time he now lived in, each day feeling as if he’d heard it all before and yet of course, as it stood, it was now, in fact, happening only for the first time. And with so much changing, Robert had long since stopped thinking about the effects even his actions were having on the future.
It was funny how he had stopped calling it his future, Robert realising in fact that maybe he knew all along there was no way he could return, and even more so now that he’d lost his own Door. A return back there some time might still be possible if he went loaded up in the weapons department.
Only when he entered the city limits did he start to wonder about what he would say, his mind filled with so many other things, not least the thoughts about Katie that he just couldn’t ignore. He hadn’t planned how he’d get to speak to either Tommy or Jessica again, let alone have them listen to him.
If any couple highlighted the point as to how much things had changed, it was these two people, now bedding down together, as yet unmarried, with hurt and baggage in their lives already, especially for Jessica, even though they were both still young. Who they had once been was such a contrast, it was incredible. Though the dates eluded him, he was sure the previous Jessica had already made some films by now, having been a successful model in her late teens and early twenties. She went on, of course, to become a world star, delighting millions of cinema-goers with her incredible acting and dazzling beauty.
By that time, Tommy had already started re-writing the record books when he’d first been introduced personally to Jessica, and his own career became the benchmark that no one had ever bettered. Their wedding day was world news, the photo rights sold exclusively for £10 million, but unlike any such previous event ever covered, the happy couple gave half that amount away to their favourite charities. Doing so only pushed them higher up the world ladder of popularity until they reached the top, representing so many charitable organisations.
Jessica had personally opened the world to the issues of fertility problems, offering hope to millions of struggling couples who had to cope with the fact that they could not have children. That was the case with her and Tommy and, as in many situations, the cause was unknown, but the result was tough to come to terms with.
And yet, like someone who ruins an old masterpiece by repainting over it, with one stroke of the brush, Nigel had himself rewritten this couple’s history so that they found themselves thrown together again at last. Only in a small but modern housing estate on the edge of Nottingham, living what was, for them, an amazingly low-key and average life. There was, however, still an element of public recognition as Tommy was in management at last, but even this was only to make Nigel more money. Like everything in his life, Nigel knew how to pick the very best and keep it purely for himself.
Robert had planned to go in on these lines, to try and make them believers in what he had to say even though it would sound so strange. Jessica had been so upset about her father taking his own life that Robert, armed with evidence that might go some way to restore her link with her father, hoped they would hear him out. Robert knew it wouldn’t be easy and he hoped to catch just one of them, preferably Jessica, though she had been the most hostile before but maybe only because Robert was uninformed about what had happened to her father. Now he could offer her some answers.
He pulled over to the side of the road to check his directions as he neared the entrance to the estate, and his luck was in, because, at that moment, driving a beautiful new shiny Mercedes, Tommy was pulling out, apparently on the way to the stadium. That meant Jessica would be alone, which Robert hoped would be a good thing but now he had no option anyway. He pulled away, making the turn, and though he’d checked the directions, he needn’t have bothered as Tommy's house was the first turning on the left and it was quickly visible. Robert drove down their road slowly and parked just a little bit up from their home. Most of the houses looked quiet; clearly, the occupants were already out at work considering the time of day.
Walking up the driveway, Robert's pulse racing like a schoolboy before a first kiss, he got to the front door and paused for a moment before pressing the doorbell. He heard the clear sound of feet coming down the stairs telling him that she was on her way.
27
Jessica was back in the kitchen making some more coffee, putting some biscuits on a plate while she waited for the filter to work its magic. Things were a lot calmer now, and Robert sat there quietly in the generously sized lounge, a conservatory joined to the side, its doors closed at that moment.
His opening lines on the doorstep an hour ago had been something he’d rather forget, babbling away as Jessica looked at him in alarm and then tried to slam the door on him. Instead, he got his foot in the way just in time, entirely why he did that, Robert didn’t know, as it still throbbed in pain, not that he was going to let on.
While she threatened to call the police, her voice rising a noticeable amount, Robert talked on like one of those terrible door-to-door salesmen who just won’t take no for an answer. In his random mix of words, he must have stumbled across something that had connected deep within her as she suddenly went silent and let him finish. She eventually invited him in, which was no small thing for her as, unknown to Robert, since the events of her last day at the Department of Information, she still feared the presence of strange men. They’d chatted a bit more in the hallway; Jessica was still a little cautious to get too far away from the front door, so Robert had just started telling her everything.
It was when he talked about what he suspected of her father’s death that she’d formally invited him into the lounge and had made some coffee, wanting finally to hear everything he had to say and only interrupting him occasionally. She was amazed at the story she was hearing, for it sounded like fantasy, had it not been all about her life and the feelings she thought were only known to herself. And yet here was a man, a relative stranger, apart from those few encounters at the Department when he’d come in and spent hours on the machines researching, sitting now in front of her telling her all these things that sounded so real she almost wanted to believe them. It was to avoid overload that she had gone to make the second round of coffees, needing some space to think about what she’d just heard, because as crazy and as far-fetched as it sounded, on so many levels it made sense. And that is what bugged her.
She’d been especially interested to hear about Nigel and thought in itself it would have made an interesting story had it not been told to her as reality, with her and Tommy’s lives so mixed up in it all. But it was the suggestion about Brendan that she found hardest to take, he had been such a rock in her life going back to that volatile time when everything else was falling apart. And to think that he and Nigel had a part in things turning bad, was hard, let alone that they were somehow involved in her father’s death. And yet, what had hurt her above all things with her father’s death wasn’t her last words with him or how their relationship had broken down in the last months, nor even her father’s suggestion that something was going on between her and Brendan. What hurt her the most was the disgust she felt with him for taking what seemed like the coward's route out, for dumping her and her mother and making them pick up the pieces by themselves. She knew he’d never been a quitter and yet it had seemed in his one final act, as if to spite her, he’d quit in the most ultimate way of all and shamed her and her family. It hurt so much that some days it was almost physical, a weight deep down inside her that Jessica just could not lose, however well things were going, a burden that now occupied the place that her father had once had, her daddy who she’d loved, cared for and adored her whole childhood. The man she’d respected above all others.
And only now, for the first time since that day when she went around into the back of their garden and looked up at her father hanging there, his face ash white,
only now did that feeling start to change, a change deep inside. Because there had always been a part of her that didn’t want to accept what had happened, even though it seemed apparent to the world around her. It looked so out of character to Jessica, yet the world’s view prevailed, and her doubts got buried, only now being given fresh hope and release in this most bizarre way.
Jessica eventually came back in from the kitchen, Robert realising she needed some time to think things through, now eagerly analysing her body language for any sign of hostility, but there wasn’t any. She had a beautiful and graceful smile on her face, partly to cover up the turmoil inside, but more so because that was how she had been brought up. Standing there in a black dress and a woollen knitted top, which covered her bare shoulders, she looked ever the actress that had filled so many magazines and newspaper columns, even without much makeup on, naturally beautiful.
She placed the tray onto the table between them, pouring the coffee into the two empty cups left from before, picking up the plate of chocolate covered biscuits, and she offered one to Robert, which he took, before putting the plate down, not taking one for herself. She passed him his coffee and took hers, all very deliberately and elegantly, and returned to her chair that sat facing him, a small table to her left onto which she placed her cup. Robert couldn’t help but notice her legs, bare as there was no need for tights in such warm weather, they were gloriously enhanced by her dress that lay just above her knees as she sat there with her legs crossed at the ankles. He caught himself however, and looked away before she noticed, taking a sip of coffee and returning it to the table in front of him. She sat there like a student in the headmaster’s office, utterly attentive. Taking that as a sign to continue, Robert detailed things a lot more about what Nigel had done and why he had involved them, Jessica becoming especially interested in hearing about this other life she was meant to have had, asking lots of questions. While he didn’t think it was helpful for her to know too much about herself, he told her nonetheless, and they spent another hour talking away.
