Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (6 page)

So was it a coincidence that after Tonabie had been asking his nasty, disgusting little questions, here was Frank in her bed. So should she tell him Tonabie was snooping?

Once out of Cheltenham’s traffic, the taxi driver made good time back to Sherston, and parking the car in the backyard, walked across to the kitchen door, but as soon as he stepped inside, his wife ripped a message from the pad and thrust it into his hand.

‘You’re to call this man, he’s on his mobile.’

‘Oh Mary, can’t it wait, I’m meeting the guys in half an hour.’

‘No, it can’t wait. It might be another job, and god knows we need the money.’

Sagging, he took the phone, and calling the number, was surprised as a well spoken voice asked him a list of questions, and answering
'yes'
to all of them, agreed.

‘Oh, alright then. Stay where you are and I’ll be there in five minutes.’

He slammed the phone down, ‘Bollocks.’

She stared at him, ‘Well, is it a job?’

‘Yeah, back to bloody Cheltenham again, I’ll never see the guys at this rate.’

She handed him a cup of tea, ‘Strange, isn’t it, you haven’t had a call to Cheltenham for weeks, and now you get one after the other.’

He slurped the tea, ‘Oh, I know why, right enough, it’s about the fare I’ve just taken, and he was a decent sort of a bloke, fairly quiet but dead straight, and he gave a good tip.’

‘So were all those questions about him?’

‘Yeah, the posh bloke said he’s been chasing around all day trying to catch up with him, ‘cos his mother’s been taken seriously ill and he needs to get him to the hospital.’

She stared at him, ‘Oh, the poor woman, lying there all alone at death’s door.’

‘Yeah. Oh well, I suppose I ought to do it.’

She snatched his cup, ‘You certainly will, ‘cos that poor woman will be needing her son. I don’t know, you give birth to them, and they’re never there when you’re dying.’

Pulling up to the meeting point, the driver saw a tall, blond young man, and in a moment was driving back to Cheltenham, and though he tried conversation through the journey, the creepy blond only wanted answers to the same questions he’d asked on the phone.

Had his fare been a big man with brown hair? Did he have an army-style backpack? What time did he pick him up? Had he been alone? Where did he pick him up from? What time did he drop him off in Cheltenham? Did he say what his plans were? Questions, questions, questions.

After a while the driver began to get a nasty feeling that something wasn’t quite right, after all, these two men couldn’t be more different, and how they could be best friends was just too hard to believe, and now there seemed to be no concern at all, or even any mention of his friend’s mother who was supposed to be seriously ill.

The blond’s mobile rang just as they were coming into Cheltenham.

‘Hello? Ah, yes, good afternoon sir. Oh, not too bad, just a few minor problems, he’s a rather slippery character. No, he doesn’t, and it shouldn’t be too long now.’

‘Yes sir, I’m getting quite close. Cheltenham actually. Yes, it is rather ironic.’

Giggling, he laughed callously at someone’s private joke.

‘I certainly will, sir, you can rely on that. No ... not at all. It will be a pleasure ... and believe me, the pleasure will be all mine. Yes sir, and goodbye for now.’

Looking up into the rear view mirror, the driver saw the blond’s eyes staring into his, and they seemed to be warning, or threatening, like twin points of blue ice. Looking arrogantly away, the creepy blond stared coldly out through the window, his thin lips forming a sneering smile, confident and vengeful.

The driver’s guts turned over. This was no friend, helping a friend, this was a bloody awful situation and somehow he’d got mixed up in it.

Carrying on through town, the driver wanted this creep out of his car as soon as possible, but as he pulled up to the big man’s address, he couldn’t help feeling guilty.

‘Cabby, this is the right address, isn’t it? You’re quite certain?’

The driver glanced down to his worksheet that settled any arguments with the taxman.

It showed the pickup, cost, and destination address of all his fares, and with a shrug, passed it back to the blond.

‘Yeah, this is the place. Well you can see that for yourself.’

The blond took the clipboard, and looking down the list, smiled as he ran his finger along the line of the last entry, but glancing to the meter, he frowned.

‘Yes, this would seem to be the right address, but why did you overcharge him.’

‘Overcharge him? What the hell do you mean?’

‘Well according to the excellence of your bookkeeping, both my friend and I have made an identical journey, and yet there’s a difference of £5 in the meter readings.’

‘Five pounds, but that’s impossible, there can’t be.’

‘Well it’s here, clear enough, unless you made a detour.’

The driver remembered the florists, ‘That’s it, I had to wait while he bought flowers.’

The blond smiled.
‘Flowers. And flowers for a woman no doubt.’

Turning, he gazed up to the old house, ‘And did you see my friend, enter the house?’

‘No, I was too busy with the traffic.’

‘Indeed. And that, I fear, may be the pity of it.’

The blond tried the house, but as expected it was a decoy and time was running out fast.

When the syndicate discovered this Section man was to be the investigating officer at Thornley Manor, it was decided their only chance was to turn him into a double agent by threatening his family, but that could only be done by discovering his true identity, and before he disappeared into GCHQ.

It was a tall order, but as this game was driven by Corporate International Terrorism there was a fortune to be made, and the only prize for failure was a bullet in the head.

5

Ted awoke at six o’clock to a day of blue skies and sunshine, so maybe the summer was lingering on, and as the thoughts of yesterday returned, slid his hand across and wished Maggie was there, his lover and best friend, the only one he could let his heart out to.

But he was alone now, just like Frank Lewis, except on the rare occasions when Frank was down, he usually went to Sally.

He sat bolt upright. Of course, why didn’t he think of that before?

Having washed and dressed, he went downstairs, and sliding back the wood panel beside the chimney breast, took out an old oil skinned parcel and unwrapped Bertha, his WW11 Luger machine pistol, and snapping in the magazine, glanced to the phone, but the rules would have to be obeyed now, and phone tracking made a call far too dangerous, so all he could do was drive over to Sally, and if he were lucky, Frank might be there.

Walking up to the garage, he called Len and told him he’d be out for a while, and he shouldn’t say a word to anyone.

Charlton Kings was quiet as Ted swung the vicar’s car into the avenue. Driving slowly, he checked the houses on either side but there was nothing unusual, and cruising back, parked with a good view of the area.

After a while he hung Bertha around his neck by the strap, slipped into the blue overcoat and hoped it didn’t look out of place in the warming sun.

Taking his time, he walked slowly up the avenue and used a wobbly limp to let him stop and rest for a while on every other wall, but the prim, immaculate gardens were all clear, the expensive cars were empty and there was no sign of glinting metal in the bushes, but most important of all, there was no sign of a blond, male or female.

Frank dreamily awoke feeling warm and relaxed in the deep bed, but stretching out, frowned when he heard a soft musical voice, whispering in his ear.

‘Hello, sleepy bones.’

Turning, he saw Sally’s beautiful face next to his on the pillow.

She smiled, ‘Well you sure were tired; you’ve slept right through till morning.’

Coming wide awake, he realised she was in bed with him.

‘You don’t mind me being here, do you, I didn’t want to sleep on the couch.’

He gazed at her, ‘No, of course not, if it’s alright with you.’

‘Well of course it is, you silly, I’ve told you enough times.’

Reaching over, the sheet slipped down to reveal her large naked breasts, and smiling, she began to play with him, ‘And this is fine with me as well.’

He fell still. All he’d really wanted was her company, but she’d misunderstood.

‘Sally, you don’t have to, it isn’t why I’m here.’

She placed her finger across his lips, ‘I know, but I want to, so don’t stop me.’

He sighed, and relaxing back, gave in to what would surely happen.

For Sally, making love had always happened with the other operatives, and she’d accepted it, almost as if by routine, but it had never happened with Frank Lewis, and the thought of finally having him now was setting fire to her emotions.

Taking her time, she savoured the moment, her kisses soft, lingering and luscious on his lips, her hand exploring his muscular body and the aching hardness of him.

Rising up, she slid her soft thigh across his hard belly, and sitting down on him, murmured as she swung her heavy breasts across his face, her nipples across his lips.

‘Sally …’

‘Hush now. Just relax and I’ll show you how good I can be.’

He shuddered as her warm silkiness came sliding around him, and as she began to rise and fall, took his hands and cupped them to her breasts. Sinking down hard, she thrust her hips until they cried out together in the agony of the most beautiful orgasm.

Ted limped along, and when he was almost opposite Sally’s driveway, the door to the flats swung open and she stepped out with Lewis, and as they were saying their goodbyes, a car came cruising up the avenue and stopped right outside her house.

Slipping his hands into the false pockets of the overcoat, Ted watched as a young man got out of the car. He was tall, had earrings, and a blond crew cut.

Taking hold of Bertha, he slipped the safety catch to
'off '
, and now the blond only had to make one false move, and Bertha, with her stuttering rattle, would cut him in half.

Frank kissed Sally goodbye, but walking down the drive, stopped abruptly when he saw Ted standing across the road like a statue from a bad dream.

But why was he here? And why was he wearing that god-forsaken overcoat?

It could only mean the worst kind of trouble, but why? It hadn’t been long since they’d said goodbye in Sheverill’s lane, and everything had been okay then.

Shrugging the Bergen from his shoulder, he tossed it away and slipped his hand into the false pocket of the donkey jacket, and taking hold of the pistol, scanned over the field of fire, but all he could see was Ted, who for some crazy reason, seemed to be covering the mini-cab he’d ordered. And there was Rosemary, gardening as usual, and a milkman coming into view along the road, but there was nothing else to be seen.

The blond called up the drive, ‘Taxi for Mr Andrews.’

The young blond’s use of Frank’s working alias let Ted ease the pressure on the trigger, and taking his hands out of the false pockets, let them fall to his side, but Frank kept his hand on the pistol as Ted crossed over and walked up the drive.

‘Ted, what the hell’s going on, you scared the shit out of me.’

‘Sorry, old son, false alarm, but we need to talk.’

Sally watched the two men standing head to head in the drive, their mouths working fast, but Frank suddenly fell silent as he listened to every word Ted was saying.

‘Thanks Ted, I owe you one, but I’ve got to go now, so will you look after Sally?’

‘No problem, I’d like to see her anyway.’

The young blond stood in the early morning light and stared along the quiet avenues of Charlton Kings, and lighting a cigar, noticed his hand had the shake of fear.

He’d worked late into the evening and checked all the nearby hotels, pubs, guesthouses, corner shops and taxis, but all with no success, and then was forced to take an overpriced, grubby room in a local guesthouse.

It was beginning to look as if the Section man had given him the slip, and it was now unlikely he’d be able to locate him before he disappeared into the Executive Section’s anonymous hidey hole in GCHQ, and knowing what had happened to the sleeper in the Chiefs of Staffs office, that wasn’t the news he wanted to take back to his masters.

When the syndicate had woken the sleeper, she’d confirmed their worst nightmares, because the audit of files at the maximum security wing at Thornley Manor had revealed that a file had been violated, and due to the gravity of the situation, the Chiefs of Staff had granted sanction for Immediate Action with hard arrest,
no mercy
, but for the sleeper it was all over. She had become a danger and was soon eliminated.

Tossing the cigar into the gutter, the blond cursed in frustration, and looking through murderous eyes along the respectable avenues of Charlton Kings, glared at the Mercedes at the kerbside, lashed out and kicked-in the headlight.

So why didn’t that Section bastard obey orders like everyone else?

Flicking glass from his shoe, he checked the time and saw it was a little after eight, so all he had was one last chance with the local post and milkmen, but if he drew a blank with them he knew it would be all over for him.

He shuddered, knowing his own assassin would already have been briefed, and when he or she walked out of the shadows, he would pay the price for failure.

Paying off the driver at GCHQ, Frank shouldered the Bergen, and walking down the curving road towards the twin red and white security barriers, showed his ID to the guard. As he was about to walk on, he saw her frown, and quickly checking over her clipboard, called him back to the office window, and double-checking his ID, picked up the phone.

Dropping the Bergen, he lit a cigarette and watched as she ran her finger along a line on a memo, but as she tapped numbers into the phone, turned away to block his view.

Leaning against the wall, he drew on the cigarette and listened at the window.

‘Hello? Is that Mr Tonabie?’

‘Good morning sir, this is gate security, and we have the gentleman you spoke of.’

‘Yes sir, he’s just arrived. Very good, will do.’

Putting the phone down, she ticked the memo, smiled, and handed back his ID.

‘Would you wait here, sir, it seems you’re to be collected.’

Five minutes later a black Jaguar emerged from within the complex, and as it cruised up to the barrier he saw Mike Frederick driving and Archie O'Neal riding shotgun, and sat in the back was the shadow of his old friend, Monty.

Archie rolled the window down and jerked his head to get in, and walking round, Frank stowed the Bergen in the boot and opened the rear door, but as he got in, Mike Frederick turned, and winking coldly, pulled a sour face and shook his head - the car was bugged.

Frank had made a deal with himself, that regardless of Monty’s condition, he wouldn’t show any expression, but turning and seeing him, his breath almost caught in his throat.

‘Hello Monty. So ... Batman and Robin strike again.’

Monty tried to laugh, but it was more like a rasping wheeze, and when he coughed, his thin body was suddenly contorted with pain, and Frank Lewis wanted to kill someone.

Sally made a fresh pot of coffee as she chattered with Ted about the old days, and carrying the tray through to the lounge, set it down on the table in the bay window. Although it was quite warm in the flat, Ted seemed reluctant to take off his blue overcoat, and when she playfully pulled it open, saw the leather strap, and lying across his chest, the dark, menacing shape of the Luger machine-pistol.

She looked up thoughtfully, ‘Ted, aren’t you supposed to be retired?’

He half-smiled as he spread his hands, but she was looking at him intuitively.

‘Oh, I see. Once in, never out?’

‘More or less. And you, my beautiful young lady, are far too clever.’

She pursed her lips, ‘It’s Frank, isn’t it? He seems to have a lot of problems just now.’

‘Yeah, well it goes with the job, but he hasn’t said anything, has he?’

She glanced up, the guarded tone of his voice suddenly arousing her curiosity.

‘No. But as he’s a member of the Mount Olympus Group, I just wondered …’

She faltered as a look of disbelief widened Ted’s eyes, ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Sally, for Christ’s sake. Now look, I know you pick up bits of gossip from the guys, but you can’t go around using names like that, it’s just too bloody dangerous.’

‘Oh, I see. But it’s alright with you, isn’t it?’

‘Well yeah, I guess so, but it’s a hell of a lot safer to use the official name.’

‘Okay, don’t get upset. So he’s a member of the Executive Section, happy now?’

‘Sally, it’s not a question of me getting upset, it’s a question of what Tonabie would do if he heard you talking like that, you’d be history in two minutes.’

Sally realised she’d just made a big mistake, because as far as the men were concerned, she was just their counsellor, their considerate and understanding, obliging whore.

It was the old problem of leading two lives, one for the men, and one for the government, and if these men ever discovered the truth, they’d realise that for all the years they’d been inside her, she’d been inside their minds, stealing their thoughts for Tonabie’s paranoid case history of their psychological profile.

‘Yes, and you’re quite right. I’ll be more careful from now on.’

Sitting quietly in the bay window, it was Sally who broke the awkward silence.

‘We were talking about Frank, but the truth is, I’ve never really understood him.’

Ted sighed, ‘Well he wasn’t dealt a very good hand, if you know what I mean.’

She looked blank, ‘No, I don’t think I do.’

Ted felt uncomfortable, ‘Well to cut a long story short, his mother died in childbirth, and as there was no father, or any other family, he ended up in one of those kids homes, you know, one of those places you read about, where the kids get messed around with.’

Sally groaned and looked down to the table.

‘Anyway, this
Boys House
was run by a Miss Gillpenny, and she had a motto.’

Sally glanced up, ‘A motto?’

‘Yeah,
the fist is mightier than the smile
, and as Frank was a bit of a hard nut to handle she treated him like a punch bag, so when it comes to women, he gets a bit mixed up.’

‘But that’s horrible, and what does Olympus … Sorry, what does the Section think about it, aren’t they concerned about the psychological danger.’

He stared at her, ‘Are you kidding? Christ, he wouldn’t have got past first appraisal if they knew about this. No, the Boys House was shut down, the people transferred and the paperwork lost, the usual cover up, so don’t go talking about it.’