Sunshine illuminated the bedroom, suggesting another bright and sunny day lay in store. The night had once more proved uneventful, no nightmare or physical assault on his body. He felt becalmed, marooned within this oasis of life, the soft touch of her breast pressing to his skin adding to the sense of serenity. You will never be completely free of it she told him, on the night he said he felt well enough to leave. Stay a little longer she said, better to be with someone who understands your condition and knows what to do should you suffer from an attack. There is no-one else. So he took the easy option, and stayed.
Circular and cold the object touched at the skin of his back between the shoulder blades, intent on disturbing his slumber. A muscle twitch failed to expel the intrusive presence and he moaned in irritation. Small in diameter the intruding object continued to annoy, more so at the increasing pressure being applied to his skin. He thought the children knew better. An image appeared in his head, bringing startling recognition to his semi conscious mind. This wasn’t nuisance material from children who had risen too early from their beds. This was the barrel of a hand gun.
Eyes cautiously opening he saw the barrel slide into view, jerking repeatedly to tell him to get up. Hardly daring to take a breath he slid onto the cold floor tiles. A mental count to three and he looked up at the intruder.
“Will?”
Demanding silence with a finger to the mouth he pointed to the door and Matt hopped behind trying to frantically dress as they left. The questions arrived the moment they were onto the hall landing.
“How did you get into Maria’s bedroom?”
“I should be the one asking you that question,” said his friend. “There wasn’t any other information we needed.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Tillman’s widow?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story and not for discussion.”
“Suit yourself. We need to go downstairs.”
Struggling to get the zip of his pants to obey Matt pursued his energetic friend, convinced he could hear voices the nearer they arrived to the bottom of the stairs. He was right. They were coming from the direction of the outside patio.
“Who’s that talking?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Eventually winning the battle between man and cloth they stepped onto the sun drenched patio where he was greeted by three instantly recognisable faces.
“Now I know I’m dreaming.”
Unexpected warm handshakes greeted his presence. They had every right to react differently. Instead they appeared to be genuinely pleased to see him Toby being the only one to sport a bandage, to his left arm.
“How the hell did you get out?”
“With extreme difficulty,” said Toby. “Not helped by some burke giving away our location by shouting out our names down the phone every five seconds.”
“I thought you’d all had it,” said Matt, trying to ignore the earlier remark.
“We had help,” said Will.
“Help from who?” asked Matt.
“Not sure. I heard a woman’s voice tell us to go. It was only after we got free Lily told me it wasn’t her.”
“Come to think of it,” said an intrigued Johnno. “I thought we got supporting fire from somewhere on our way out but didn’t think much about it at the time.”
“They found us through triceratops,” said Toby. “That’s what happens when you wander onto a university campus without saying. They’re crawling with sleepers.”
“Sleepers?” queried Matt.
“Security operatives placed to look out for unusual activity or spot emerging talent. Mostly they’re fake students. That’s where Triceratops was compromised.”
“How did you know?” he asked, already aware of the probable answer. “Where is Rosa anyway?” he asked quickly to change the subject.
“Doing a pick up,” said Will. “She’ll be here soon.”
“What you did for Rosa,” said Johnno. “That takes real balls, Durham.”
“Can’t that woman keep a secret?”
“Not for long. It was Rosa who told us to come here.”
“What the hell for?”
“Find out what we do next, boss,” said Toby.
“There is no next. We had one shot and I blew it. Hang on a minute, what did you just call me?”
“You’re the man with the plan,” said Johnno.
“Yeah, a plan that nearly got everyone killed.”
“You wouldn’t be the first person in the world to be duped by the elf Connie,” said Johnno.
“You’ve come across her before?”
“Johnno has,” said Toby. “I had to untie him from the bed the last time they got together at a hotel. Take my word for it, it wasn’t a pretty sight”
“She has the face of a child.”
“And the mind of a centuries-old witch,” said Johnno, as his attention was drawn away.
“Matt?”
“Give me a minute,” he said to them, hearing the woman’s voice at the patio door.
“Who are they?” she asked, sleepily scratching her hair.
“It’s the rest of the team. They managed to get out!”
“I’ll make some coffee.”
He touched at her arm to stop her leaving.
“It’s okay. We’ll go and talk somewhere else.”
“I’ll make some coffee,” she repeated.
He rejected the idea of a public debate, deciding to return to the others rather than follow her inside.
“Who’s that?” asked Johnno.
“Mrs T,” said Will.
Glances shifting to all directions told Matt what they were thinking.
“Now there’s a thing,” said Johnno.
“It’s not for discussion,” insisted Matt.
The array of shrugs didn’t help ease his mood while they waited for the refreshments. Maria caught his eye without offering a facial clue to indicate what she was thinking.
“I’ll see to the children,” she said before leaving, closing the patio doors behind her.
“Right, back to the new plan,” said Toby.
“What new plan?”
“If at first you don’t succeed …” said Johnno.
Blinking furiously, he looked to each in turn.
“They know we got away,” chipped in Will. “So they’re going to come after us again. The only chance we’ve got is to hit them first.”
“So, boss. What’s the next step?” asked Toby.
“I am not your boss.”
“Someone has to lead,” said Johnno.
“Will’s your man, the best qualified to take charge.”
“It can’t be one of us,” said Johnno. “Never promote from within. It doesn’t work.”
“I am not a leader. Leaders are supposed to be smart not idiots who lead people straight into a trap. I’m the last person in the world you should follow.”
“I’ll follow you,” said Lily.
Lily had been unusually quiet, taking in the exchange thus far without comment. Yet in one short statement she had left him speechless, lost for words.
“That’s sorted then,” said Johnno.
Looking to the sky for inspiration all he could manage was a deep and reflective sigh.
“It has to be you,” said Will.
“I don’t have triceratops anymore. They relieved me of it when I was lying stunned on the floor.”
“They’ll have dissected it by now,” said Toby. “The option is well and truly shut. We need a back door key.”
“What would a back door key look like?” asked Will.
“They come in all shapes and sizes.”
“What about a single numerical sequence?” Will asked.
“Too easy. I’d use at least three.”
“I’ve got three,” said Matt.
“I thought you only had one?”
“I only showed you one.”
Matt scrawled down the set of numbers he had shown Will
previously, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 18, 19, 20, 21, *, *.
“That’s interesting,” said Toby.
“What?”
The numbers are all below twenty six.”
Pieces fell into place for Matt. He converted the numbers to words of the alphabet to come up with C, F, G, H, I, R, S, T, U, and then immediately replaced the asterisks with the letter A and showed them to the group. They looked puzzled by the apparent random lettering, bar Will who put it together and looked at Matt in amazement.
“You’re kidding?” said Will.
Matt slipped the photograph from his pocket onto the table.
“That’s John,” said Lily. “And I recognise the second man in the picture.”
“From the Austrian op,” said Matt instantly. “His name was Johannes Schafen, the Chief Operating Officer of Schafen Industries.”
“Who’s the babe?” asked Johnno.
“Gratia Fuchs,” said Will.
Within seconds the others had caught up. The first series of letters spelt out her name. Eleven letters, the same number as John Tillman.
“There’s more than eleven letters to the other guy’s name,” said Will.
“Fifteen to be exact,” said Matt. “But …”
The sound of a car braking firmly to a halt at the front of the villa interrupted the conversation.
“That’ll be Rosa,” said Will.
Sure enough her happy, beaming face appeared through the patio doors. A second person, hidden from view by the open front door, spoke to Maria.
“Hi guys,” said Rosa. “I’ve brought …”
“No time, Rosa. You need to tell us, did Johannes Schafen have another Christian name?”
“Yes,” she said, startled by the less than warm welcome. “His middle name was Jens.”
He scribbled it onto the note. Jens Schafen, eleven letters.
“There are your keys, Toby. Substitute numbers for the letters of the alphabet and you have three keys.”
The absence of a triumphal response made him glance up and look behind.
“Hello, Matt.”
The voice speared into his soul leaving him feeling numb, a confused and volatile mixture of seething anger and relief. He’d thought about this moment without knowing how his mind would react until the occasion eventually arrived. The Guinness eyes lacked their usual lustre and try as he may he couldn’t muster a smile.
“Let’s talk,” was the best he could utter.
Sensing the awkwardness the others abandoned the scene and he pointed to a chair, concealing the documents on the table with his arms.
“You look well,” she said tentatively.
The ability to speak continued to desert him leaving Gratia to take the lead.
“Concentration has not been easy during these last few weeks, worrying about your condition and ...”
His arm lifted, revealing the photograph, eyes examining her face for a reaction. Her glance turned to a concentrated stare but she said nothing.
“You’ve never met John Tillman?”
“I met a man who introduced himself as Jason Taylor, a senior executive from an international company working out of Xiamen. His credentials were immaculate.”
“You ski with everybody you meet once?”
“I never ski on a first date.”
“So it was a date? This is why you asked me not to pursue the log, in case I found a connection to Tillman.”
Her silence confirmed the observation and his mind went into overdrive, recalling the comments in Tillman’s log. And then it came to him and he realised.
“I assumed he was writing about someone else. He wasn’t. He was writing about you wasn’t he?”
“Jason was charming, attentive ...”
“And you screwed him?”
Anxiety carved into her stony expression and she looked briefly away before returning her gaze to meet his hardened stare.
“We were close, for a short while.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I think it does.”
Poise regained, her unyielding gaze matched the intensity of his venomous glare.
“And you didn’t tell me this because?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Damn it, Gratia. This is Tillman we’re talking about!”
“To me he was Jason Taylor.”
He spun out of the chair, anger intensifying at the cold calculation behind her answers.
“Why should this trouble you?” she asked.
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t know why, Matt. Explain it to me. Why does this consume you with such anger?”
“You knew his real identity the moment Maria showed you the picture of him and his family, and you deliberately kept it from me.”
“I saw no gain from revealing the past.”
“How many more secrets are you hiding? Who else have you been involved with I should know about?”
And then it occurred to him.
“It was you. Going back to Schafen was how she paid you off, wasn’t it? The fee you settled on for keeping tabs on the two of us, Will and me back on the island, and then reporting back to Catherine.”
The truth was in her eyes, laid bare for all to see. She rose from the chair and cautiously approached, her hand touching gently at his forearm.
“Don’t … touch me. Don’t ever touch me,” he said.
She withdrew her hand and stepped back, shaken by the viral response.
“Why did you even bother to come here?”
Her eyelids flickered involuntarily and his mind celebrated the depth of the wound inflicted. Gratia recovered, having seemingly arrived at a decision.
“I release you from your promise,” she said.
“What promise?”
“The promise papa requested. He had no right to ask.”
Matt understood. In a single statement Gratia had made it clear she had come in search of freedom. He stepped away, through the open patio door, and closed it behind. The group waited for him to speak.
“Lock and load,” he said. “Either we’re going down or they are.”
Bodies sprang into motion, collecting their various pieces of equipment and darting around like angry hornets from a disturbed nest. The opening of the patio doors brought Gratia into the room at the same time the owner arrived at the bottom stair and he made a point of crossing over to Maria.
“Goodbye, Matt,” she said with a tentative smile.
“Goodbye?”
“Your team awaits you.”
“When it’s over …”
“I will hear of it, on the news.”
“Maria …”
“Go,” she said. “They wait for you.”
This was not the departure he envisaged, cold and distant. He started to retire as two small bodies reached the bottom stair and surrounded their mother’s legs.
“Matt,” said Tessa, “will you be coming back to play with us in the pool?”
An arrow to the heart had to be less painful. He returned and dropped to a knee, smiling at their unhappy faces. Maria would be better able to explain his departure.
“Promise me you will look after your mother,” he said, brushing at their fringes with a gentle hand.
They nodded in tandem, bewildered faces framed in doubt and confusion.
“Now give me a hug to prove you mean it.”
Falling into his embrace their little arms tightened around his neck as he kissed each in turn. Despite their infant years they understood he would never return. As hugs go, this was about as meaningful as it could ever get. Separation came at their mother’s request and he rose, unsure as to whether he should repeat the show of affection with Maria.
“Go,” she whispered, to halt him in his tracks.
The pause felt eternal, a dreamy chasm of timeless silence swirling around inside his head. The smile refused to form and he turned away, his glance catching Gratia’s solitary form standing at the door.
He made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. As far as he was concerned Gratia represented the past.
Chapter Thirty
Entry