Deadly States (Seaforth Files by Nicholas P Clark Book 2) (58 page)

“There is every possibility that you do,” Jack replied, trying to keep
his annoyance in check.
The young woman waited for more and eventually Jack relented.
He didn’t much feel like playing that particular game with the sting of
losing
Alexa so fresh in his mind, but his troubles were not the fault of
the innocent creature sat beside him, playing the game as badly as he
once played it, a long time in the past. His paternal instincts kicked in
and he gave her a break.
“Though I
can’t think from where,” Jack said, eventually. “Do you
work here?”
“No, my mother moved to South
Africa a few years ago. I still live
back home in England. I came out for a few weeks. I try to get down
to see her as often as possible, though I have only managed to make it
down a few times in the last year.”
Jack smiled warmly. Too
much information,
he thought. It was
a classic sign
of someone who was desperately trying to keep to the
script
of their cover. Still, she was young and with time she would get
better at the game.
“It is a long way to travel,” Jack replied.
“Yes, but when it’s your mum, well... Has to be done. She’s on her
own. Dad died when I was a baby and her new husband, who is from
here, he died last year in a car crash. I am all she has by way of family,
and it is nice to spend a few weeks in the sun every now and then.”
Far too much information, Jack thought, as he grinned internally.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was basically
dictating her entire
life story to him, the fact that the story itself was so obviously full of
holes was
pathetic.
Why
didn’t
her
mother
move
back to
England
when her new husband was killed? Or why
didn’t the young woman
move to South
Africa if being there for her mother was so important
to her?
“Did your mum not think about moving back home to the old
country, or does she likethe climatetoo much down here?”Jack asked.
He knew that it wasn’t fair to put her under additional pressure,
but
he couldn’t help it. Being a little bit wicked with a rookie was fun and it
would help her learn how to use a cover story properly for the
future. The young woman wasn’t at all fazed.
“She has business interests here and she set up a charitable foundation in her late husband’s name. That takes up a lot
of her time. She
feels that she
must
stay
here and look after the foundation. I
keep
telling her that she could pay someone to do that for
her. That way
she could come back home and we would get to see one another a lot
more often. But like you say, she also likes the climate here.
And she
has made a lot of good friends.”
“Well then, as long as she’s happy,” Jack said.
The young woman had forwarded far too much information, perhaps more than a rookie spy trying desperately to cling onto the cover
story that she had been provided with. This led Jack to dwell for a
moment
on another
possibility—could she be a
civilian?
Could her
story be true? Could the chance encounter be nothing more than that;
chance?
As Jack looked into her
eyes
he saw that same recognition
from moments before when they had first made eye contact. Perhaps it
wasn’t the world of secrets and death that he saw in her eyes? Perhaps it
was a sense of genuine pain? She was about to leave her mother behind
and the prospect did not agree with her at all. They were both leaving
someone who they loved behind in South Africa.
As he probed her eyes for further signs of recognition he was interrupted by a middle aged man in a poorly fitting suit.
“Jack, I
hate to interrupt,
but your
plane is ready. If you could
come with me I will take you to it,” said the man.
The man turned and walked away. He was there to get Jack to the
plane and that was what he was going to do. Jack wasn’t quite finished.
The man stopped a short
distance away and he turned to face Jack.
The man checked his watch before glaring at Jack with impatience.
“Your friend seems to be in a hurry,” said the woman.
“Friend would be overstating what that man is. But yes, he is in a
hurry and I’m afraid he is a man who I can’t ignore. It was really nice
meeting you and I hope your journey home is pleasant.”
Jack stood up.
“It was nice to meet you too, and I hope the same for your flight.”
“With that pain in the arse over there sitting next to me on the
plane, I have a feeling it will be a far from pleasant trip home.”
The woman smiled as she stood up and offered a hand for Jack to
take, which he did, with gentle firmness.
“I would really love to know where I know you from,” she said. “Ah
well, we will just have to put it down as one of life’s wee mysteries. Ships that pass in the night, and all that.”
“Indeed,” she said, adding, “ships that pass in the night.” “Anyway,
I better be going. My companion is on a tight schedule
and his patience with me is already at an end.”
They parted with a smile. As Jack walked away a thought occurred
to him. He had not asked her name. Jack turned to rectify the omission. The young woman was nowhere to be seen. A sudden pang
of
regret hit him but it
mused as he headed
quickly
passed. Ships that pass in the night, he
off towards the runway.
As he approached the
plane he regretted not asking her more questions. If he had done that
then he might
have been able to work
out where she had seen him
before? Perhaps her mother lived in the same housing complex as Jack,
or maybe her foundation was in the same part
of the business district
as
his
office? There were so
many
possibilities. The fact that Jack’s
minder did not pay the young woman much attention was yet further
evidence that she was nothing
more than some lonely stranger who
thought she knew Jack from somewhere.
Three different
military transports took him from South
Africa
back to London. They were uncomfortable, and bleak, and a material
reflection of how he felt on the inside. He did not feel any better when
he touched down at Heathrow. Three days of intensive debriefing left
him feeling completely
drained.
that
somehow
she would
get
hours and days slipped past that looked less and less likely and then
to add to the
depression that
he was
going through
he was called
into a final
meeting. The young
officer sitting in front
of Jack was
Christopher Black. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit and designer
glasses and he had all the appearance of a man who had never spent
a
day in the field and that immediately
put Jack
on the
defensive—
there was no way this guy could ever understand the real world out
there where men like Jack lived and died.
“We continue to seek information regarding Alexa and Barry from

every possible contact that we have.
As soon as we have something,
anything, I will let you know,” Black began.

“I would appreciate that,” Jack said, as he tried to sound appreciative.
“The team that we sent to South
Africa to investigate the destruction
of the jet
carrying
Commander Deeley was unable to confirm
that he was
on the flight. However, such was the destruction
our
experts say that this conclusion is not surprising. In fact, it would have
been suspicious
had we found something that indicated he was
on
the flight. The security footage from the airport certainly suggests he
got onto the plane prior to the attack. I am sorry that we couldn’t give
you the definitive proof that you requested but it really does look as if
we are going to have to settle for the comfort
of the best guess many
experts have made.”
Jack smiled.
“If I saw his body and put two rounds in his head, I would still not
be certain the man was
dead,” Jack said. “But I appreciate the effort.
From all involved.”
“Well Jack, unless there is anything
else that you want to share
with me,
or if there is something else that I can do for you, then you
are free to take a well earned holiday.”
Jack smiled and he relaxed into the chair.
“Any idea where you would like to spend it?” asked Black.
Jack had thought
of little else for
many
days. He thought about
returning to South Africa, or perhaps the answer to her disappearance
would be solved in her homeland? In the end there was only
one place
for him to start his search. It was the one place where he could get his
head around finding her, by first finding himself.
“I want to go home,” Jack said, simply.