‘The papers are having a field day with it,’ moaned the prime minister. ‘Conspiracy theories galore. Mobsters. Russian hit men. Religious fanatics. Even the British government. Anyone would think we were in the habit of assassinating people in broad daylight on busy London streets . . . Uh, we didn’t, did we?’
‘Not this time,’ said the Dark Lord.
The prime minster looked relieved.
‘It occurred to me, Dirk, that with everyone distracted by the Phantom, now might be the perfect moment to announce that we’re shutting the children’s wing of that Manchester hospital.’
Lord Hamilton-Crosse gripped the stem of his champagne glass so tightly, it almost snapped. A red-hot fury surged through him.
If a junior clerk hadn’t come to summon him to the phone, he’d have said something he regretted. As it was, he excused himself curtly and made his way out through the crowded ballroom.
He took the call in his study in the south wing of Hamilton Park, his stately home in Buckinghamshire. Beyond the bay window, the maze and landscaped gardens were bathed in moonlight. He stood so he could look out at them. He loved every blade of grass and every hair on every horse and dog on the estate where he’d been born.
For decades, he’d worshipped the trappings of wealth and class, and the privilege it came with: fast cars, expensive art, exotic holidays. Then his son was killed surfing a gigantic wave. In the midst of his pain and rage, he’d lashed out at Rufus’s fiancée, Ellen Wolfe, the day after her child was born. He’d behaved unforgivably. As a consequence, he’d lost not only his boy, but also any chance of knowing his granddaughter as she grew up.
Overnight, Dirk Hamilton-Crosse had seen his glamorous world for what it was: a gilded cage. He’d been so obsessed with money and power that there’d been no room in his heart for his only son.
That same year, his wife had left him for his best friend. The Dark Lord had waved goodbye to them without a tear. Now he lived alone.
The Christmas after Rufus had died, a parcel had arrived with a south-east London postmark. He’d refused to open it. The following Christmas, a second parcel came. What it contained – childish drawings and a photo of a laughing toddler with no front teeth, covered in a heap of blond Labrador puppies – was worth more than gold. The accompanying card said simply, ‘Katarina, aged two.’
From then on, that parcel had been the best and only Christmas gift he could have wished for. Kat’s paintings, school essays and pictures of her beaming with an assortment of animals and books were framed or in albums around his office. Despite that, he’d never once sent a thank-you note to Ellen Wolfe. He’d been too proud to say sorry or admit he cared.
A year ago, he’d found himself near Kat’s school on government business. On the spur of the moment, he’d asked his chauffeur to drive past it. By chance, the children were streaming through the gate. He’d recognized Kat at once. She was uncannily like her father. He’d been unable to resist trying to talk to her.
The look on her face when he’d told her he was her grandfather haunted him still.
So did the words of her mother, who’d come storming into his office a short while later.
The following Christmas, no parcel came. The absence of it had hit Lord Hamilton-Crosse hard. Three and a half months on, there’d been another blow. The Wolfes had moved and left no forwarding address.
If he hadn’t worked in a department staffed by spies, Lord Hamilton-Crosse might never have found them again. Fortunately, he did. When V reported that they were living in Bluebell Bay, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. He’d settled for being thankful he knew where they were.
Now the Dark Lord picked up the phone and said, ‘Yes, V, what is it?’
As he listened to the woman he’d code-named V, a retired spy he sometimes hired as a private detective, a muscle worked in his jaw. The junior clerk, ear pressed to the door in the corridor, heard the following one-sided conversation:
‘You cannot be serious?’
‘No!’
‘But how?’
‘Please tell me this is not happening? Why this week of all weeks?’
‘MI5? Great. That’ll go down well with the director. Send her a gift.’
‘How would I know? Maybe a hamper from Fortnum and Mason. Better make it a big one.’
‘You mean there’s more?’
‘Oh good grief. Is the colonel going to sue?’
‘Thank goodness for small mercies. Send him tickets to the Chelsea Flower Show before he changes his mind.’
‘Who else knows about this?’
‘Keep it that way, V.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll handle it personally.’
When the call ended, the Dark Lord grabbed his coat, bypassed the party and strode through the dark trees to the barn, followed by his Border collie, Flush. After giving a few treats to an old Clydesdale mare, his favourite horse, he sat on a hay bale with his head in his hands. Flush lay loyally beside him.
It was there that his assistant found him, hours later. She knew immediately that something was wrong.
‘It’s Kat, isn’t it? She’s in trouble.’
‘Worse,’ said the Dark Lord. ‘She’s the cause of it.’
25
A Bolt from the Blue
When Kat arrived to pick up Toby on Monday morning, there was a For Sale sign outside Kittiwake Cottage. Inside, Edith and her son were arguing. At least, Reg was arguing. Edith’s voice was small and cracked with emotion.
‘Reg, this has been my home for fifty years. Why do I have to leave? I’m managing perfectly well.’
‘Today you are, but tomorrow you could break a hip or go doolally and become a burden on me and everyone else,’ Reg said nastily. ‘Is that what you want, Ma?’
‘Nobody wants to be a burden, Reg, but can’t you understand how hard it is for me to let go of my cottage and library? And I will never, ever give up Toby. He’s my best friend. I’d rather die.’
‘Are you insane?’ shouted Reg. ‘He’s a great hairy mutt. A fairly useless one, at that. But, don’t worry, I’ve spoken to the RSPCA and they promised to try their hardest to find him another home.’
Kat didn’t wait for Edith’s response. She ran back the way she’d come and sat behind the boatshed at the harbour, where she couldn’t be seen from the road. Minutes later, there was a screech of tyres. Reg’s black BMW swerved around some boys on bikes and tore away.
Kat waited for a while longer, watching a windsurfer cross the bay. She felt ill as she walked to Edith’s cottage.
Edith answered the door with red eyes and an extra-bright smile that didn’t reach them. The first thing she did was hand over Ramon’s computer, neatly packed in its padded case.
‘Thanks for the loan of this, Kat. It’s been a joy. For a few days, I’ve had a window on a world I’d almost forgotten existed.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to use it while I’m out with Toby? You could watch the news and give me an update on our Oxford Street Phantom case.’
Edith twisted her hands. ‘Not today, love. I have a headache. I’ll just sit here quietly, if you don’t mind. Toby would be delighted to join you, though. He missed his walk yesterday.’
But Toby didn’t want to go anywhere. When Kat put on his lead, he dug in his paws and pressed himself to Edith’s side, whining.
‘I can’t think what’s wrong with him,’ said his mistress, visibly upset. ‘He’s not normally so clingy. I hope he’s not coming down with something.’
‘Maybe it’s the move,’ Kat suggested gently. ‘I saw the sign outside. Animals are very sensitive to moods and changes. If Toby’s feeling insecure, he won’t want to be away from you. It might help if you came with us.’
‘I’m not sure I’m up to it, Kat.’
But Kat persisted. She was sure that it wasn’t only Toby who could benefit from some sea air.
‘For Toby’s sake, Edith. We don’t have to go far. Even walking to the harbour and back would stretch his legs.
’
‘For Toby’s sake, then. I’ll get my coat.’
‘Wait for us!’ called Kat, as she and Toby jogged to catch up with Edith.
It transpired that her client, so wobbly on the ground, was a speed merchant in her mobility scooter. Without a word of explanation, she’d led them up, down and around the alleys and lanes of Bluebell Bay. It wasn’t until Kat found herself face to face with the warning sign she’d glimpsed through Ramon’s telescope that she realized they’d reached the razor-wire fence of the army base:
MILITARY FIRING RANGE. KEEP OUT.
‘We can’t cross here,’ she told Edith, pointing to the times on the bottom of the sign. ‘It’s closed to the public on weekdays.’
‘I know that. I haven’t lost my marbles yet, although Reg seems to think it could happen any day.’
Beside the gate was a wind-blasted hawthorn tree. Few walkers or soldiers would have glanced twice at it as they continued along the coastal path or up the tree-lined track to the army base. None would have thought to look behind the dense thicket of brambles and gorse that surrounded its twisted trunk for another path, this one cut deep into the cliff.
‘Come quickly. We need to go before anyone sees us,’ urged Edith, steering around a gorse bush.
Kat hesitated. The descent looked treacherous. In the unlikely event they made it to the beach in one piece, what were the chances of the scooter having the horsepower to climb back up the cliff? Kat envisioned explaining to her mum why she’d had to summon the coastguard to pluck Edith and the scooter off some crumbling precipice. What if the brakes failed?
Edith read her like a book.
‘Trust me, Kat. I’m a librarian!’
Kat couldn’t help laughing. Holding Toby’s lead with one hand, and the basket on Edith’s scooter with the other, she followed her friend down to the beach.
For much of the twisting descent, high rock walls or tunnels of vines blocked the view. When at last Kat saw the glittering ocean steaming up to wrap around white cliffs, she cried out in delight.
Toby felt the same way. Let off his lead, he raced in circles, barking at the waves. Having helped settle Edith on a boulder, Kat ran down to the water’s edge and splashed her face in the freezing foam as the retriever paddled. Worn out, she collapsed beside Edith on the fine grey-blue and mauve pebbles. The sun was warm on their skin.
Edith smiled. ‘Like it?’
‘I love it. Do you come here often?’
‘I haven’t been to Starfish Cove in years. My mother first brought me when I was your age. It’s a secret known to only a handful of people, and it’s stayed that way for nearly a century. As a young woman, I spent whole summers here, reading and daydreaming. But when my eyes and back began to fail, it became more of a risk. I didn’t dare come alone.’
Kat didn’t ask if she’d ever entrusted Reg with the secret of the cove. The answer was obvious. She was touched that Edith had deemed her worthy of her special place.
‘It’s important to pay close attention to the forecast before venturing down here, especially if you’re by yourself,’ Edith was saying. ‘On the Jurassic Coast, the weather can change from sunny to savage in minutes. Most deadly of all are the sea fogs.’
‘I was in one last week,’ Kat told her. ‘I held on to the rail all the way up to Avalon Heights.’
‘Then you’ll understand why Dorset has more than its fair share of ghost stories. Have you heard the one about the ghost army of Purbeck? In the seventeenth century, it’s said that Captain John Laurence and his brother saw some armed men marching across Creech parish in the fog. They roused the alarm. Hundreds of people came running. The army grew bigger and louder by the minute. Then those gathered noticed something odd. The army marched behind a hill, but never reappeared.’
Kat was riveted. ‘The soldiers were phantoms?’
‘Yes and no. Years on, science solved the mystery. There’s a phenomenon called the Brocken spectre, where the sun projects the shadow of an observer on to drifting fog.’
‘A bit like standing in front of a projector, when your silhouette appears on the screen?’ asked Kat.
‘That’s right,’ said Edith, raising her voice to compete with the sudden racket of a helicopter passing overhead. ‘It’s an optical illusion.’
Deep in thought, Kat stared unseeingly after the chopper. She pictured Mr Newbolt walking across a foggy field in his trilby and noticing his own image projected on to the wall of white. He’d called out to Ramon about mad dogs and Englishmen going out in the midday mist, but Sergeant Singh hadn’t said whether or not Ramon had replied.
If Mr Newbolt had been seeing things, it meant that Wolfe & Lamb’s original timeline was still in play! It made it more likely that Ramon had left Bluebell Bay by the time Kat got to Avalon Heights in the fog, and that somebody – the colonel maybe – had taken his suitcase. Or maybe they were in league together.
Timing-wise, Ramon could still be the Oxford Street Phantom, but only if his email to Margo proved to be a ruse. But Kat still found it hard to believe. She and Harper had found nothing to connect Ramon to the nameless victim on Oxford Street.
Toby came lolloping up to them and shook himself hard, showering Kat and Edith with sea spray.
‘Thanks, Toby!’ Kat giggled, wiping her face on her sleeve.
‘I can’t believe the difference you’ve made to my beautiful boy in a matter of days,’ Edith said. ‘And to me, if I’m honest. Kat, I have something to ask you. Something important. If I move . . .’
The rest of the sentence was drowned out as the army helicopter returned. But this time it didn’t fly over them. It came swaying into their secret cove and landed on the beach with a deafening thwup, thwup, thwup.
Even before the door opened and a tall, silver-haired man ducked beneath the spinning blades and strode towards them, Kat knew it would be her grandfather. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised. She jumped to her feet.
Edith was shaking with excitement. ‘As I live and breathe, it’s the Dark Lord!’ she exclaimed. ‘What in the world is he doing here?’
He came crunching across the pebbles and nodded to Kat as if nothing could be more normal than dropping out of the sky, unannounced, after a twelve-year absence. He extended a hand to Edith. ‘Mrs Chalmers, I presume. I’m Dirk Hamilton-Crosse, Minister of Defence.’
Edith wasn’t sure whether to be amazed or afraid. ‘I know who you are.’
‘But are you also aware that I’m Kat’s grandfather? I can’t imagine it’s the sort of thing she advertises.’
Edith nearly fell off the boulder. ‘Oh, my word! Yes, I see the resemblance now. I can’t think how I missed it.’
Kat was incensed. ‘Because we’re nothing alike. Not even slightly.’
The Dark Lord continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘Apologies for breaking up the party, ladies. I need you to come with me.’
Kat stayed where she was, arms crossed and scowling. The arrogance of the command was exactly what she would have expected from him.
‘You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not the boss of me.’
‘It was an order, Katarina, not a question. Get in the helicopter. You too, Mrs Chalmers, please.’
‘Call me Edith . . . Umm, how do you know my name?’
‘I’ll clear that up shortly, Mrs – er, Edith. For now, I’d appreciate your cooperation and haste. Bring your retriever. We’ll look after him.’
‘Edith and Toby are not going anywhere, and nor am I,’ cried Kat. ‘Edith, don’t do it! This has nothing to do with you. It’s some sick power game he wants to play with my mum.’
‘It has everything to do with you and Edith, and nothing at all to do with your mother,’ said her grandfather. ‘However, I’m happy to involve her if you’d prefer, Kat. Is she aware that you’ve caused an innocent man to be arrested, and that your internet activities have attracted the attention of the US Secret Service? Thought not. Shall we proceed? We don’t have all day. Th
e soldiers are on exercise on the cliffs above. My duties might be impeded if I were to be hit by a stray bullet.’
He helped Edith up. ‘Madam, allow me to assist you into the helicopter.’
Edith practically swooned. ‘Don’t mind if I do, my lord. Come on, Kat. Let’s have an adventure.’
‘That’s not quite how I’d have put it myself,’ said Dirk Hamilton-Crosse, lifting Edith effortlessly into his arms, ‘but, yes, do come along, Kat. Let’s have an adventure.’
Kat stared open-mouthed at Edith, who was resting her traitorous head on the Dark Lord’s chest as if they were on the cover of a romance novel. The retriever was equally disloyal. Anyone would have thought that Dirk Hamilton-Crosse was his new best buddy.
‘Still undecided?’ said her grandfather. ‘Do the words “Code Blue” mean anything to you, Katarina?’
Kat knew then that the game was up. Taking Toby’s lead, she followed him to the helicopter.
26
Life Lessons
Hours after Lord Hamilton-Crosse had returned to the Houses of Parliament, Kat was still unable to decide whether she was in the worst trouble of her life, or had simply had a surreal conversation about spies with her estranged grandfather, followed by a scenic flight along the Jurassic Coast.
She supposed it was a bit of everything.
Before the fun part of the trip came a distinctly un-fun interrogation in a remote forest clearing.
‘Easiest place to have a private conversation,’ the Dark Lord said. ‘No flapping ears – human or otherwise.’
While the pilot took the retriever for a walk, the Dark Lord had what he termed a ‘little chat’ with Edith and his granddaughter. There was no ‘Long time, no see, Kat. How’s school? Having fun in Bluebell Bay?’ He got straight down to business.
The shocks came thick and fast. While birds sang and flitted in the sun-dappled glade, Kat learned that in the time Ramon’s laptop had been in her care, a Trojan horse had been installed on it.
US intelligence agents, who’d been tracking another Trojan horse, also linked to Ramon’s computer, had spotted the virus and reported it to MI5.