Seeker (15 page)

“He's with me,” she said, and Sam allowed her to lead him away.

Sam looked back, but the man had turned away, once again joining his mates, the story about the weirdo who'd collapsed in the middle of the high street soon to become another anecdote to share with his buddies.

Sam's eyes were drawn to Starbuck's as another man emerged, and immediately a thought shot through Sam's mind;
you know who I am
. But as fast it arrived, the thought was gone.

Once they were out of earshot, they slowed down and Lilly looked at Sam. “What happened? I was on the way to the station when I noticed the commotion.”

Sam looked at Lilly, then back at the way they'd come, trying his best to remember. But there was nothing. “I have no idea. I remember getting on the train, and then I'm on the ground back there, some guy trying to help me up.”

Lilly frowned. “That's worrying.”

“You're telling me. Try living it. It's like some fog is shrouding my mind. And,” he added, glancing back, “that bloke kept looking at me weirdly.”

“Yes, I noticed. I think it's the eyes.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I'm thinking a pair of sunglasses won't go amiss.”

“I wish I knew why my eyes were like this, some birth defect, or maybe…” Sam stopped suddenly, and felt the colour drain out of his face. “Oh my…Lilly,” he said, grabbing both her arms and looking around the high street. “I've been here before! I don't know how I know, but…I just
know
.”

“That's progress,” Lilly said, trying to calm him down with her arms. “But let's take a chill pill here, people are starting to stare.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Good,” Lilly said, smiling at him. “Memory loss is one thing, but an insane person is something else entirely.” She placed her arm in his and together they continued up the high street. “Time to get you some new togs.”

“Lilly, I can't keep on spending your money.”

“Why, do you have some secret stash I don't know about?”

“Maybe I do, but if I do then I don't know about it, either.”

They both laughed at this, and Sam felt all the better for it. As overwhelming as this was for him, he was glad he had someone like Lilly with him to help him find the humour in himself.

“Don't worry, once you've found your old life again you can pay me back. Which reminds me, I've got something I want you to try when you get home. All day my mind's been running around, distracted by you,” Lilly said, pointing at him softly, “and so I looked up a few techniques for helping to focus on the details of memory. Not sure if they'll work for you, but could be worth a try.”

Sam swallowed hard. He wanted to remember, but there was a feeling in his gut that told him not to go there. “Okay, then,” he said, pretending he was up for the idea.

* * *

“I guess he thinks I can handle things okay without him, otherwise he'd be back already. Will's always had faith in me like that.”

PC Medeiros eyed Stephen Krueger, not quite buying his false modesty. The young man spoke with humility, but you could see the arrogance behind his eyes. His bearing of confidence was very affected; it was the first thing she'd spotted when they had arrived at Coffee @ Town's End, that and his sweaty palms when they shook hands. It didn't mean he was hiding anything necessarily; some people just got nervous when talking to the police, putting up a false sense of bravado in case the police knew something they didn't. In her experience everybody had something to hide, alas most times that something had very little to do with the case being investigated.

“Doesn't it strike you as odd that he's not made any effort to contact you? Especially considering the disciplinary with,” she checked her notes, “Kurtwood Kellerman.”

Mr. Krueger nodded, and leaned back in his chair. “Now that is odd, yes. Will was quite pissed off when he learned that Kurt might be fiddling the books. But the problem with Will is this,” he added, leaning forward again, resting his elbows on his table and linking his fingers together. “Will's not very good with confrontations, never has been. He likes to think he is, but when it comes down to it situations run away with themselves. He has no control of them, which is probably why he called me in to help with it.”

“And when is this confrontation due to take place?”

“Any time after Thursday, when the paperwork is returned. The evidence against Kurt is very conclusive.”

“So the sooner he returns the better for business? You can get rid of Mr. Kellerman, supposedly promote someone else to take over his position.” Medeiros looked at her notes again, pretending to read something. Really she just wanted to think a moment. She didn't doubt anything Mr. Krueger said, but she was getting a feeling from him. That he knew more than he was saying. She passed a quick look with her colleague, who nodded slightly. He, too, had a
feeling
.

“Mr. Townsend's disappearance must be putting extra strain on you? Stepping up to the plate to do his job, as well as supervise the management of the unit once run by Mr. Kellerman?”

“You're telling me. But it's all good, I can deal.” Mr. Krueger laughed, but it wasn't a natural one. The nervousness was quite blatant. “Will be glad when he returns.”

“I don't doubt it. And when did you last see him?”

“Erm, last time I heard from him was Thursday night.”

“That'll be the twenty-fourth?”

Krueger did the mental arithmetic, and nodded. “Yup. He was well stoked about his forthcoming trip, couldn't wait to step into a different zone and see how things went with Charlie.”

“Is that silver Volkswagen Lupo outside yours?”

Medeiros threw the question at him so abruptly that Krueger barely had time to consider any other answer than yes. She nodded at this, and scribbled something onto her pad, not taking her eyes off him, daring him to change his answer or add something.

He didn't bite, which suited Medeiros well. The neighbours on Barclay Road had already told the officers that a silver Volkswagen Lupo had been seen on the street the same time Mr. Townsend had left, but none had a registration number to offer up.

She would have to check the CCTV for that street, once she had made a note of the registration for Mr. Krueger's car.

She wasn't sure what Mr. Krueger would benefit from Mr. Townsend's disappearance, but he was certainly hiding something. And that he'd seen Mr. Townsend on the morning on the twenty-fifth was almost certain. Perhaps there was something in his will; maybe the business was to be bequeathed to Mr. Krueger on the event of Mr. Townsend's death. She had known of worst motives.

First things first, though. She stood up and put her pad away. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Krueger. We'll be in touch.”

* * *

Once they were gone Ste leaned his back against the door, and took a deep breath.

Allowing the officers time to get downstairs, he waited, then grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and removed a small plastic tube from the inside pocket. He removed the lid and took a sip of the thick glutinous liquid.

He had to make a call, but first he wanted to relieve the anxiety he was feeling. He knew he was caught up in something big, but no one mentioned anything about police involvement.

He closed his eyes and sealed the tube, waiting for the Red Source to settle in his system.

PC Medeiros had caught him out on the thing about his car, but so what? Even if they discovered he was parked up on Will's road on Friday what did it prove? He didn't know, but he didn't want to risk it.

Eyes still closed he steadied himself with both hands resting on the table. It was always the same; the initial rush as the Red Source became one with him. But it soon passed and all his concerns went with it.

He was somewhere else…

“Where shall we go next?” Antosha asked, his Russian accent thick and sexy
.

Ste looked up into his eyes and smiled. He put his arm in Antosha's and shifted the weight of his purse under the other arm. “You promised something special at the hotel, so…?”

Antosha grinned. “Yes. The hotel. Good choice, Grace.”

On some level Ste knew he wasn't really there, that he was not a woman called Grace, but still he remained in the memory.

Recreational drugs were designed to take you out of yourself, an escape from the real world. Red Source was the next level. It literally took you from your life, and deposited you into the life of someone else. It could last minutes or hours, depending on how much Red Source you took. But eventually you would return to your own life, higher than you'd even been before. Calm, relaxed, indestructible. At least for a time.

After a few minutes, as Antosha and Grace entered the hotel, Ste returned to his office.

He looked around, and smiled. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his Blackberry. No longer anxious, but still knowing he had to make a call to Southend, Ste searched in his contacts list under R and found Robin's number.

It was about time he found out how Robin's meeting with Will had gone.

* * *

Jake stood at the backdoor, smoking his third cigarette in a row. The house was empty once again, the police having all left a couple of hours ago. Once they had gone Jake had done a circuit of the house to make sure everything was still in place, and was happy to find that the police had been quite respectful, barely disturbing anything, and that which they did they returned. Francis had left only fifteen minutes ago, staying on to talk about old times.

Jake was amazingly thankful for the old man's support, and even more so for the chat. It was nice to take his mind off recent events and think back to more innocent times, times when he and Will used to just hang out without the pressures of life in the way. Jake getting into all kinds of mischief, not that his folks knew much about it as Francis often picked up the pieces before his folks returned home from work. Will never got into mischief though, he was always the straight one, the kid who behaved, merely watched, his silent disapproval only serving to egg Jake on in his latest endeavour.

Intentionally, or just coincidentally, Jake wasn't sure, but in their reminisces Francis brought up a time twenty-odd years back. He and his wife were enjoying the Saturday sports shows, while Jake and Will were upstairs in Will's bedroom. The way Francis told it at one point he had to turn the TV onto mute, thinking he heard some unusual noise coming from above. He and the then-Mrs. Townsend exchanged knowing glances and turned the sound back on, letting the teenage lads do their thing.

While Francis told this tale Jake remembered his own side, although he didn't share it with Francis.

He and Will had indeed been messing around upstairs, Jake talking about the girls he fancied, and being thirteen it didn't go much beyond a quick grope here and there. While they talked, teenage Jake had found himself aroused, and before he knew it Will was reaching out and unzipping his jeans for him. Caught in the moment, at least that was how Jake had rationalised it for the last twenty-two years, he didn't resist and quite happily laid back and allowed Will to…

* * *

Jake took a final toke on the cigarette and outted the butt against the wall. He turned and re-entered the house. He didn't know what he was going to do next, so he just wandered around the house, his mind constantly returning to that memory of twenty-two years ago.

For years he'd blanked a lot of it out, and often tried to brazen it whenever Will thought to remind him of the moment, but now as he wandered through the house, vacant as it was of Will, he remembered more.

How he had taken great pleasure at the feel of Will's hand around him, and how he too had reached into Will's own trousers and…

He mounted the stairs.

He could continue to convince himself that it was merely an act of teenage exploration, and how he'd been lost to the moment, but the sharp sting in his heart brought on by the memory told him otherwise. That he missed his friend was a given, but there was something much bigger going on. And although he was loathe to admit it, he knew exactly what it was.

Exactly the same thing that had made his mind turn to Will yesterday morning while having sex with Amy.

He sat down on Will's bed and reached out for one of the pictures that sat on the small bedside cabinet.

It was a picture of Will and him taken a couple of years ago. They were on the grass near the Serpentine in Kensington Gardens, Jake sitting there laughing, while Will rested his head snugly in Jake's lap.

Jake took a deep breath. He remembered the day well, although as with every other moment of brief intimacy over the years, he had blocked out, or just blatantly ignored, the truth of his feelings.

Like a week ago, when he and Will had last spent some proper time together. Jake had convinced himself that the hug in the back yard was just that, a hug of support between two amazingly close friends. But the stirring in Jake's nether regions told a different story.

But it was ridiculous. Jake only fancied women; he knew that as surely as he knew he could have done nothing to prevent his mother's illness claiming her. All he had to do was look to Amy to realise that truth, and yet…

Water hit the glass covering the picture, and for a moment Jake wondered where it had come from. Then he realised. He tried to blink away the tears, but instead they fell harder. He brought the picture to his chest and flopped back on the bed.

In deep shudders of breath the sobs soon emerged, and with each one he felt his heart break just that bit more.

09.

Sam stood before the mirror above the mantle in Lilly's living room. Behind him, on the opposite wall, he could see the reflected image of
Lady Lilith
. It was time to try the memory exercise to which Lilly had pointed him. It was all about using visual stimuli to access the memory; in this case it was the sunglasses Lilly had bought him.

The last flash of familiarity had come when he had been trying the glasses on in New Look, and she'd made a gag about how he had better not be one of those annoying pretentious people who wore sunglasses indoors. For a split second he had been somewhere else, but as with all snatches it quickly passed and he was left with no idea what his mind had been trying to tell him.

So now he stood before the mirror, the glasses in his hands. He looked down, curious to see that his hands were shaking slightly. Nerves, no doubt. If this exercise worked then he'd remember something of his past, and he still could not escape the feeling that it was a path he did not really want to walk.

There was something dangerous in his past, an event so bad that it made him run away as naked as the day he was born. Did he really want to access such an incident? Sometimes the past was best left in the past, isn't that what he'd heard before?
Let the dead rest, and the past remain the past
.

Fortune had favoured him, and he'd found Lilly. Although it had only been a couple of days since he'd become aware of himself, naked in the wet garden, he felt like he'd known Lilly a life time. There was something good going on between them, and he didn't want to spoil that. Somehow he just knew that if he rediscovered his own past everything he had with Lilly would be put in jeopardy, and did he really want that? The answer was simple; no, he did not.

Yet, at the same time, he knew he could not honestly live like this. Moments of his days missing as he blacked out, his body going on automatic, coming to and finding himself in strange situations. It all came down to need, not want, and it had to be done. Answers were needed, even if those answers were not ones he wanted.

Sam took a deep breath and placed the glasses on. He stood there, looking at his reflection, but nothing happened.

“Bugger,” he muttered, but didn't move, feeling a little foolish for expecting instant results. Not one to give up, at least he suspected he wasn't, he refocused his attention on his reflection, blocking out everything else until all he could see was his face.

There was something wrong here; perhaps it was the way the twins were looking at him? Willem wasn't entirely sure, but he'd been assured that he was okay. The one in the glasses bothered him mostly; hiding behind the shades, he appeared to be looking at Willem while the second twin, the one with the electric blue hi-lites in his black hair, whispered something in his twin's ear
.

The room in which they stood in didn't have much in the way of windows, and what with the low lighting Willem didn't think that the man had sensitive eyes. Willem turned to Frederick, mindful that the twins continued to look at him, electric-blue still whispering while the shaded one simply nodded in silent agreement
.

Sam stood there, facing the mirror, but he was no longer seeing. Blood seeped out of his ears in a slow trickle, not that he was aware of such a thing.

The memory exercise had worked, and a floodgate had been opened. Behind his sunglasses his red eyes burned with a fire and in his mind he was somewhere else…

All around him were flames, but he stepped nimbly past them, holding the book close to his chest lest it get burned with the monastery. It was essential that he got this book into the hands of Frederick Holtzrichter, who was waiting in the vestibule as instructed
.

It was a great pity that his incomplete notes had already joined the flames in the crypt, and as a result the importance of getting the book away from Moldavia was greater still
.

Plans had been set in motion so long ago, and just like he, Frederick had his own part to play. But first of all he needed the book
…

* * *

Jake looked down at the ringing phone in his hand. It was the third time that Amy had called in the last two hours, probably chancing her arm while having a sneaky fag break out of the office. He knew he ought to answer the phone, but he didn't know what he could to say to her. By the time he remembered he was supposed to meet her for lunch he was well over an hour late. He sent her a text, apologising and telling her that the police invasion had lasted longer than expected. It was a blatant lie, but a lie nonetheless. And the first time he had felt the need to lie to Amy…but he still didn't understand why.

He had done nothing wrong, and yet his mind was awash in a tsunami of confusion. He knew he should speak to her, but there was so much going on in his head that part of him didn't want to speak to her. Something was stirring in him, and it was alarming. So much was becoming clear. All those years of close calls suddenly made a sense to him that had been missing before, but he still didn't like it.

The feelings raging in him brought with them a deep sense of duplicity, just the act of actually having such emotions was a betrayal of everything that was developing between Amy and he. He'd been a player in his time, and he'd never really cared deeply for any of the women he'd slept with. Amy was different, there was a real closeness between them that he did not want to fuck up, but how could he honestly be with her if such feelings about Will persisted?

He looked up from his position on the back doorstep. The clouds were getting denser in their greyness. It looked like London was in for another storm.

“Right, enough of this shit,” he said to the sky, and flipped open his phone.

He couldn't go on betraying Amy like this. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper Conrad had given to him earlier, and began punching the numbers into his phone.

* * *

Lilly approached her house, her briefcase in one hand, coat in the other. The storm that had been threatening to start was still being pushed aside by the warmer weather, and despite the breeze the air was humid enough to necessitate the removal of her coat.

She was looking forward to going home; couldn't wait to see how Sam looked in his new clothes. She'd seen a few of them, as he stepped out of the changing room to show her, but she had yet to see the full ensemble. Up to now he'd been stuck in another man's style, but as of today he'd be wearing the clothes that he had chosen. Not that clothes made the man, but each had their own tastes and she hoped that the clothes he'd bought indicated something of the real Sam.

Although she didn't want to admit it, she was also curious to see what he looked like in the black Ben Sherman sports briefs he'd bought from TK Maxx. Underwear hadn't occurred to her, until he'd mentioned that wearing jeans without them didn't half chafe his nads. With each moment, even with his cultured accent, his words were getting more and more South London.

She passed the man-height bushes that acted like a wall around the perimeter of her house, and up the path. She opened the door with a big smile and called out to Sam.

There was no answer.

She closed the door softly and listened for any sound of him, but nothing. No scuffing of feet upstairs, no background buzz of the TV, not even the sound of the shower. She glanced down as a couple of her cats wandered past.

“You kids seen Sam?” she asked, and Garth looked at the living room, then carried on his way into the kitchen, obviously expecting to be fed. “Be with you in a minute,” she told the cats and, after dumping her briefcase and coat on the stairs, entered the living room.

“Hi,” she said as soon as she spotted him standing by the mirror, checking out his new sunglasses. “Remember what I said about pretentious people wearing sunglasses indoors? Well you're definitely winning no points here. And what's with the old…” Her voice trailed off as two things struck her simultaneously.

One, that he was indeed still wearing the borrowed clothes, and two, that he hadn't budged an inch since she entered the living room.

“Sam?”

Still nothing.

Suddenly full of dread, she stepped up to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch. Lilly looked at his reflection; she on his right and Dante Gabriel Rossetti's painting on his left. She leaned in closer and whispered his name in his ear. Sam reacted with a start, his movement so sudden that Lilly almost fell over, but she regained her balance in time for Sam to rip off his glasses and point at the mirror.

“It's you!” he shouted, then staggered backwards.

Lilly moved quickly to steady him. He blinked a few times, and looked around wildly.

“What…where…who…?” His eyes came to rest on Lilly. “You. Where am I?”

“Sam, it's me, Lilly. Come back to me.”

For a moment he just looked at her, and the hatred written over his face made her heart ache. Whatever he was seeing, or
who
ever, had caused him so much pain. She placed her palm against his cheek.

“Sam,” she said, using her most calming voice, “come back to me. Wherever you are, you don't need to be there anymore.”

Before she realised she was going to do so, Lilly tiptoed and placed her lips against his. At first there was no response, but slowly Sam's mouth opened and their tongues met. For what seemed like an eternity they remained like that, their tongues gently probing the other's mouths, but then pulled apart.

Sam smiled at her.

“Lilly, what are you doing here? You should be at work.”

“It's almost seven,” Lilly pointed out, nodding to the carriage clock on the mantle.

“Seven?” Sam walked up to the clock, examining it closely. “But it…” He turned back at Lilly. “It was four o'clock when I put those shades on. I've been out of it for almost three hours.”

Lilly's first thought was that she should be worried, but other than some dried blood on his ears Sam seemed okay. Still, three hours…

“I take it the memory exercise worked then?”

Sam didn't answer; he just looked to the floor. When he finally lifted his head he seemed drained of all his energy. “No, I don't remember a thing.”

* * *

Amy threw her mobile onto the passenger seat and let out a hiss of frustration. She had lost count the amount of times she'd attempted to contact Jacob, and now her patience were wearing a little thin.

She'd been everywhere since leaving work; first she went home to get changed, and checked her landline just in case he'd bothered to call her there, but not a dickie bird. Then she went to Jacob's, used her spare key to get in, but he was not there, so as a last resort she tried Will's.

Now Amy sat in her car, still parked outside Will's house, having got no response. Darkness had fallen outside, and there were no lights on in the house. From that she could only infer that Jacob was not in there, either that or he'd fallen asleep. The problem with that theory was that Jacob was a light sleeper and the sound of his phone would have woken him up. Of course, since he wasn't answering his phone whether he was asleep or not didn't really seem to matter.

“Fine,” she said, and picked her phone back up.

“Do contact me when you can be bothered,”
she typed, then stopped herself.

She closed her eyes, her finger on the delete button. Her boyfriend had a lot going on, and it would have been wrong for her to add to it. She was worried about him, and him not contacting her was making her act out her concern with anger.

“Hey, babe, not wanting to add pressure, but you probably need a chat about now. Call me. xx”

She hit send and sat back in her seat. He'd call her when he was ready, in the meantime she needed to be a little patient. Alas, patience was not always her strong suit, especially when she was worried about people.

What she needed was something to take her mind off things.

She accessed her contacts, knowing exactly the thing, and pressed call once she found the entry for Lawrencia.

* * *

“On the plus side the stuff I downloaded from your mate's laptop came in very useful,” Conrad said, stopping briefly to sip from the bottle he was cradling in his hands, “and we've located a Charlie Connolly living in Leigh-on-Sea. An officer is going to be visiting him tomorrow, so hopefully he'll be able to enlighten us a little as to Willem's whereabouts.”

Jake felt a wave of relief spread over him at this news. It didn't necessarily mean Will was safe, but it did mean they were one step closer to finding him.

Of all people, Charlie was key in all of this.

“I'll tell his folks tomorrow, they'll be pretty stoked about that.”

Conrad smiled. “Not a problem.”

They were in one of those pre-club pubs in the West End, a place Conrad had suggested they meet at. It was a gay pub, although from the outside Jake wouldn't have known that since it looked much like any other pub he'd been in. He wasn't sure what he was expecting exactly, probably rainbows and pink outfits, but there was nothing to indicate he'd entered a place for those who preferred their own gender. Although the guys snogging at the next table might have been a bit of a giveaway, since as a rule you didn't tend to see that in normal pubs.

Now that Jake's mind was a little more at ease about the investigation, they slipped into small talk, with a few suggestive looks from Conrad. Jake took these in his stride, although in truth he felt his heart beating faster than usual. The adrenalin was kicking in, as he prepared to consciously engage in something hitherto unknown for him. But it was the only way, and as much as it disturbed him, he knew it had to be done. For both Will and Amy's sake, as much as his.

“Sorry?” Jake had to ask, realising he had zoned out for a minute. “Wife and kids?”

“God yeah,” Conrad said, reaching into his jacket which was lying on the seat next to him. “I should say ex-wife, really, we divorced a few months back. Things turned a bit sour towards the end. She loved the idea of going with a man who also liked other men, it was a kind of fantasy for her, that old threesome thing, but the reality didn't sit so well with her. Ah, here we are.” He handed over a picture to Jake. “My daughters, Kira and Britney.”