Saving Tara Goodwin (Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

‘I quite agree, but some know how to control their needs, unlike others.’

‘Meaning me?’

‘If the cap fits.’

Drawing on the cigarette, he let the smoke drift away from the corner of his mouth.

‘Now let me get this straight, are you accusing me of smoking too much?’

‘Of course, it isn’t good for one’s health, everyone knows that.’

He smiled, ‘Jesus, you’ve got some nerve.’

‘And what do you mean by that?’

He laughed, ‘What do I mean? Well you’ve just said, smoking is bad for the health, but not long ago you offered me a pistol that could slot some poor bastard before he even had time to shit himself, unless of course, he slotted me first.’

She sat motionless, ‘Very true, and I think the appropriate expression, is
Touché
.’

Curious, Frank watched as he saw the light in her eyes flickering to her thoughts.

‘Although I seem to remember, you refused my offer of a pistol as you already possessed one of your own, so you can hardly accuse me of inviting you into a danger that was completely unknown to you. Umm?’

He shrugged, ‘Okay, you win. So, you were saying, highly sensitive, what else?’

‘Oh, we can talk now, can we? Jousting over?’

He sighed, ‘Yeah, life’s too short, so give me the good news.’

She couldn’t help smiling at his throw away attitude to life, the disregard of it.

‘Well, the good news, as you say, is that a certain file has been compromised.’

‘Go on.’

‘Alright, but please understand, I really am only able to tell you just so much, and I’m not playing games, because, quite simply, the item in question is a Pale1 file. Is that type familiar to you?’

He thought back, and shook his head, ‘No. I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Well thank goodness for that, or I’d have to check you out again.’

Reaching over, she took one of his cigarettes, looked up and gave him a smile.

‘As you rightly said, in some regards, I’m quite good at including myself out.’

Holding the Zippo out to her, he flicked the lighter into flame and she noticed the name etched into the front of the solid brass case.

‘Who’s Moira?’

He tensed, but relaxed and looked away, ‘Oh, just someone I never knew.’

Angela gave him a quizzical look, but seeing nothing more, shrugged and took a thin sheaf of papers from her case, but still seemed reluctant to hand them over.

‘This report is just a bare outline, but you’ll be given more, in depth detail tomorrow, so take your time and read it through thoroughly and I’ll try to help with any queries.’

The dull official report was laid out in the usual economical way, with the first page giving the nature and location of the incident.

The disturbance of a Pale1 file, held in Cabinet One of the Leonardo da Vinci, maximum security wing at Thornley Manor.

The second page gave the date when the disturbance had been discovered.

During the emergency security audit of all files, on Tuesday, 11 September 2001.

It was followed by a list when the wing had been entered since the official annual audit back on Monday 1st of January 2001.

2.1.'01. Miss Tara Goodwin - Head of security, with Robin Sheverill - NSA Section, to remove security tape from cabinets after the annual audit.

15.1.'01. Mrs Evelyn Carthwaite, private secretary to Ambrose Dudley, Head of Station with Miss Tara Goodwin, adding one file to cabinet No 4. Logged and recorded.

2.2.'01 Mrs Evelyn Carthwaite with Miss Tara Goodwin. Removing one file from cabinet No 3 for destruction. Logged and recorded.

1.3.'01 Sir Frederick Bromsgrove, official advisor to Her Majesty's Chiefs of Staff'. Annual General Inspection.

20.3.'01. Robin Sheverill, NSA Section. Routine security check.

Frank’s thoughts began to fade away as Robin Sheverill rapidly became a part of his life.

But what did he actually know about this dead man?

Well he’d obviously been a damned good soldier as he’d passed selection for one of the world’s most professional and secret special forces.

Also, he’d lived in a big old house with a farm, and seemed to have more wealth than the government ever dished out. So where had all the money come from, his wife?

Possibly, but even their marriage didn’t add up, as she was either bi-sexual or a lesbian, which might explain why there were no children.

But in that case, why had they got married? Nothing seemed to make sense.

He thought back to all those accusations made of him by the servants, and why was Christiana Levett, of the Royal Edict Force, now sleeping with his wife?

There were just too many imponderables to make sense of it all, and now he was dead.

He looked back down the page to the last recorded entry into the high security wing.

20.3.'01. Robin Sheverill, NSA Section. Routine security check.

The report named Robin Sheverill as the last person to enter the wing before the violation of the file had been discovered, but he remembered Ted saying
, Sheverill had been taken out last March when he’d been on Cardinal secondment for only a few days
.

So he must have been murdered soon after his last entry into the high security wing, and whilst on Cardinal secondment.

But the final imponderable, was why this lady in grey was letting him read a report that implicated Sheverill but made no mention of him dying whilst working for herself.

Looking up into her eyes, he remembered hearing that being involved with a Cardinal operation was like stepping into a smoke filled room of mirrors, and wondering if this Director General of Cardinal might have her own hidden agenda, decided to find out if any skeletons were rattling around in her cupboard.

‘Now I understand why you wanted us. Sheverill. A thief to catch a thief?’

She sat up straight, but then smiled, ‘Those, Mr Lewis, are your words, not mine.’

‘True, but catching a dead thief won’t be easy.’

Shock suddenly appeared in her eyes, but she managed to hold herself together.

‘Mr Lewis, I must say I’m surprised, and not only are you remarkably well informed, but that particular piece of information was not supposed to go out on general release, so would you care to tell me the source of your information?’

He shook his head, ‘No, I wouldn’t. So who killed Sheverill?’

Her big eyes showed anger, but she sighed in resignation and shrugged her shoulders.

‘We don’t know, it’s all part of the puzzle, as is the suicide of this man.’

Reaching over, she thoughtfully tapped her finger on the sheaf of papers.

‘Sir Freddie Bromsgrove, for his own reasons, thought it might be a good idea to blow his brains out, on nine eleven.’

‘Are you sure it was suicide?’

‘Positive.’

‘So if two of the names on your list are already dead, are there any more bodies I should know about?’

‘Just one, Carole Sanderson, but we’re not sure if she’s relevant to the investigation, although she did prepare the emergency report for the Chiefs of Staff.’

‘Oh, did she really. So what happened to her?’

‘She drowned in her bath, late in the evening of nine eleven.’

‘Suspicious? Her death I mean, apart from her job and the date.’

‘No, it wouldn’t appear so. There were no traces of violence or anything else that might even suggest foul play, and as she’d drunk almost a bottle of whisky, she could simply have fallen asleep and drowned. But …’

‘But what?’

Angela became still, her gaze fading as she seemed to be trying to calculate something.

‘Oh, I don’t know, it’s just something that’s been bothering me.’

‘Go on.’

‘She was seen earlier in a wine bar, with a tall, posh, quite attractive blond young man, and before her death she’d indulged with various, how shall we say, inventive entries of unprotected intercourse.’

7

Angela’s description of the blond had changed everything in Frank’s mind.

It was an almost perfect match, not just of the posh creep who’d driven his official car, but Ted’s description of the one shadowing him.

Angela saw the look on his face, ‘What’s wrong? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing. I just remembered something. So, you were saying.’

‘Well I was going to say, if this handsome young blond was her lover, it does raise something of a question mark.’

As he listened to her, curiosity and doubts began to creep into his mind, because she’d shown no expression when she described the young blond, so if he genuinely meant nothing to her, how many avenues were there to this game, and how many players?

‘Mr Lewis, are you listening to me?’

Frank came out of his thoughts, ‘Pardon?’

‘I said the young blond could raise a serious question mark.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘Well dear Carole Sanderson was sixty-three, overweight and a grandmother, she suffered from acute bouts of flatulence and was not exactly attractive.’

‘So not a calendar girl then.’

‘Hardly, and unless this young man proves to be suffering from an extremely rare form of Oedipus complex, I will not feel overly inclined to cross him off my list.’

Frank thought
, Nor would I, he could now be involved in murder.

But he couldn’t be from British intelligence … Not MI5, MI6, SO19 or Special Branch, or even the military crossover units of the 14th Intelligence Company or The Increment, The Force Research Unit or the Cumberland First Directive, and quite simply because Cardinal would either have known about it, or planned it. So who the hell could he be?

It left only one possibility. The Ugly. The International Criminal Organisation.

‘Yeah, I agree, but before we get in too deep, I’d like to know what my part is supposed to be in all this, and if you remember, you haven’t told me yet.’

‘Well as I said before, we have a file of some delicacy that has been violated by some person, or persons unknown, also, we have some deaths that may or may not be connected, and so without putting too fine a point on it, I’d like to know just what the hell is going on. And I think that sums it up rather well, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got the general idea, but what exactly do you want to know?’

Looking unsure, Angela slipped away into that quiet, defensive mood again.

‘Well as someone once said, there lies the rub, because we don’t know.’

He almost laughed out loud, but realised from her expression, she was totally serious.

‘Now let me get this straight. You don’t know, what you want to know ..?’

‘That’s right, and it’s quite an intriguing little conundrum, don’t you think?’

‘Think? Well if you really want to know what I think, I’ll tell you, because this is beginning to sound like a load of old bollocks.’

Her expression froze, ‘And why do you say that?’

‘Oh, come off it, what do you take me for?’

He gave her a hard look.

‘First you say you’ve got a file that’s been messed around with, and now you tell me some pretty important people who might have been involved are now dead, but you’re not using the spook agencies to sort out the mess because you’ve already chosen the Section, and I’ll tell you why, it stinks of a high level conspiracy and you’re expecting people to die to cover it up, that’s why Monty was dragged out of hospital, and me out of Afghanistan, because we’re expendable, and nobody will know or give a shit if we don’t come back.’

She glared, but the light in her eyes suddenly changed to the rhythm of her thoughts.

‘Mr Lewis, listen to me. A Pale1 file has been compromised in a maximum security wing in one of the most secret establishments in the country, but we don’t know who organised it or why they went to the trouble, and bearing in mind, Pale1 files refer to the wellbeing of our little planet home, if some people get hurt along the way, it would be a small price to pay for our continued existence on Earth. Are you happy now?’

‘Yeah. I feel totally ecstatic about the whole damned thing.’

As an uneasy peace began to descend, Angela decided to clear the air between them.

‘Look, I know you resent authority, and up to a point I think it’s understandable, after all, Tonabie isn’t exactly the epitome of class management, but I would be obliged if you gave me the benefit of the doubt until you know me better. Agreed?’

‘Okay, fair enough.’

‘Good, I’m so glad to hear it. Now as far as this operation is concerned, we seem to have a looking glass problem, and believe me, it really does become, curiouser and curiouser, and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if a few heads come off.’

‘Right, and now I understand why you wanted Monty, to figure it all out, so I guess my part will be to provide him with backup.’

‘Well that isn’t entirely true, as far as I’m concerned I bought a complete package, and as I’m told you come with a no-nonsense reputation, I’m hoping you’ll live up to it.’

He shrugged, ‘Well I’m here now, so I might as well give it my best shot.’

‘Good, and finally, your Cardinal status will take you literally into any organisation or department in the UK, it’s the highest security clearance in the land and it carries the level of power some government ministers can only dream of, but I urge you to use that power with discretion, and lastly, as with the Section, you will be absolved from justifiable homicide, but again I would urge caution, and now I must finally warn you that a Pale1 file is for authorised eyes only, and under no circumstances, whatsoever, should you be tempted to read it.’

‘Don’t worry, Miss Moneypenny. James Bond, I’m not.’

Angela breathed deeply, ‘Mr Lewis, you are now playing at the highest table, and it really would be for the best if you were to acknowledge that fact, right now.’

Frank looked into her eyes and thought he saw ice picks, ‘Okay, you’re the boss.’

Tidying up, Angela closed her case and beckoned to the two remaining SO19 officers.

‘Good. And now it simply remains for me to settle you in your secure accommodation. Oh ... I nearly forgot. Will you be requiring a woman tonight?’

Angela’s Daimler was not only bullet proof but also a small hi-tech office, and as a glass partition was fitted between the front and rear seats she could carry out her business on the move in complete and secure isolation.

Having settled themselves in the car, Angela picked up the phone and gave instructions to the driver, and driving out onto the main road, Frank saw the men loading signs and shovels into the truck, and the picnic area was open again.

The car turned towards Stratford-upon-Avon, and glancing to her, Frank saw she was making shorthand notes in a diary of the softest red leather, but she stopped.

‘When we reach the safe house I’ll call Tonabie on the secure line and try to arrange for your counsellor to be brought over, but if that’s not possible it will have to be one of my ladies, and I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do under the circumstances.’

As the miles flew by, the car suddenly swung left into a lane of high hedgerows, and moving fast from one lane of jumbled trees to another, finally braked to a halt in front of the stone pillared gateway of an enormous country estate.

Looking around, he saw huge perimeter walls and iron gates crafted like spears all standing to attention, and when a gamekeeper walked over from the lodge, saw he was wired for communications, and slung over his shoulder was an impressive shotgun.

It looked like a late model Winchester automatic and Frank guessed it was powerful enough to stop an elephant. A car would be no problem.

Angela spoke briefly to the gamekeeper, and when the gates opened, drove through and followed a tree-lined avenue towards a large old house on the horizon, but the limousine suddenly turned off left and bounced down a rutted woodland track, and driving over a small humped bridge, Frank saw a fast stream of bright water before the car came to a halt in a clearing, and beyond, he saw a large and immaculate thatched cottage, and standing in the sunlight, an empty and dusty Mercedes.

The men from SO19 got out of the car, and looking around, opened the rear doors and handed the Bergen to Lewis before turning to Angela, ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’

She nodded, ‘Yes, thanks. You can return to base now.’

Angela told Frank to settle himself in the cottage while she made some phone calls, but instead he stood quietly and watched the Daimler speed away down the sunlit track, and finally turning back to the cottage, thought how peaceful everything was, so quiet and untouched, so beautiful and remote, and there was not a sound to be heard except for the rustling of the wind in the trees.

Strolling over to the front door, he stepped inside and felt the snug warmth, and standing there, saw the cottage was full of cream plaster and exposed beams while gently sloping walls held the low erratic ceilings.

Walking down the hall, he stepped into the lounge, the aroma of leather, polish and fine old carpets coming to him while sunlight danced through the leaded lights of the windows to shine on china ornaments and fine old furniture.

Standing there, he realised the soiled Bergen was still hanging from his hand, his grubby boots on the thick luscious carpet, and for some reason he didn’t understand, he walked back out along the hall, hung the Bergen on an old iron peg by the door and neatly placed his boots down in the corner.

Angela called the Section, but when told that Tonabie was not available, left a message for him to call her on the secure line.

Pulling the study door firmly closed behind her, she noticed Frank had hung his Bergen on the hook by the front door and placed his grubby old boots down in the corner out of the way.

She smiled at his neatness, but frowned, because just when she thought she was beginning to understand this man, he took her by surprise all over again, and now her intuition was telling her, even more surprises might be on their way.

Looking around, she wondered where he was now and what he might be doing, but there was no sound except for the slumbering hush of the ancient cottage. Peering into the lounge, she saw him sitting in the armchair by her music centre, and he was wearing her headphones as he listened to one of her record collection, Wagner, and as he listened, he was reading the book she’d left on the coffee table.

The Taming of the Shrew.

She smiled as she watched him, but her quiet smile soon became a querulous frown, because what she was seeing, seemed all wrong, so where was Frank Lewis?

Where was Frank Lewis. Code named Charon of the Mount Olympus Group.

Charon. The ferryman of the dead, the deliverer of men to hell.

All at once she felt a gathering sense of irritation.

She remembered reading Charon’s file, and the callous commitment he gave to his work had seemed perfect for this operation, but now she’d seen that softer, gentle side to him and it set all the alarm bells ringing.

This side of his personality had not been mentioned in his psychological profile and she wondered why?

Had it been ignored, or deliberately covered up, and if so, what else had been left unsaid about this man.

Hearing the shrill bleep of the red phone, she hurried back to the study, ‘Hello.’

‘Ma’am? This is Charles Tonabie. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting but we’ve had a Code 1, here at the Section in Cheltenham.’

Angela became still. A Code 1 in Section territory was almost unheard of.

‘Really? But isn’t that a little too close to home for comfort?’

‘Yes, and it’s quite embarrassing actually, in fact we’re now in the process of a complete, top to bottom internal security review, and it’s all very regrettable.’

‘Yes, I’m sure it must be. But actually, I was going to ask if everything was as it should be at the Section, because something rather alarming has come to my notice regarding our very own, Mr Lewis.’

‘Alarming, about Lewis? Well that’s quite a coincidence actually, because it was Lewis and the Code 1, I wanted to talk about.’

‘Mr Tonabie, are you saying this Code 1 affects me?’

‘Well not directly, ma’am, but it does involve Mr Lewis, and according to our security officer in Charlton Kings, it seems he stayed with the counsellor last night, and it’s she who’s the object of the Code 1.’

Angela stared at the wall as a worrying thought jangled through her mind.

‘So why on earth would Lewis be involved with an unauthorised killing?’

‘Mr Tonabie, I must say that you and your Section are becoming a concern to me, and if you don’t get your act together pretty damned quick, I rather fancy there will be changes.’

He swallowed, ‘Changes, ma’am?’

‘Yes, you fool. Firstly, as Director of Operations, you were officially asked for recommendations for secondments in order to resolve a highly sensitive problem, and I, perhaps foolishly, allowed myself to be persuaded to trust your idiot judgement, and now, when it’s too late even to consider changing the selection of the operatives, I find, not only have you sold me defective goods, by way of Mr Frank Lewis, but your recommended operative has now become involved with a Code 1, even before the bloody investigation has started, and so, Mr Tonabie, if it isn’t too much trouble, would you mind telling me just what the frigging hell is going on in your department.’