Going Grey (67 page)

"I can," Ian said. "Leave her to me."

"What, like you handled her earlier?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

"She didn't need to know you could bloody well morph."

"She wouldn't have followed me otherwise."

Livvie stepped in. "
Guys, please. I'll stand by to slug her if her lips start to form the S word in Tom's presence."

"I'll brief him. As far as I can."

Tom didn't seem particularly engrossed in the game when Rob opened the door, but he didn't look up from the controller. He was just avoiding asking questions. It struck Rob that it was always going to be like this now. He sat down on the sofa and ruffled Tom's hair.

"How are you doing, Little Matey?"

"You haven't called me that since I was about ten."

"You'll always be Little Matey to me."

"So what's happening? Okay, you don't have to tell me. Just give me my orders."

"Mike's bought her off," Rob said. "He's going to the hotel to pick up her bags. We've moved her back here so I don't have to run my arse off trying to secure two locations. We'll keep her locked down until we find the other bugger. Or buggers.."

The look on Tom's face asked why anyone had bothered to buy off Dru at all, but he didn't say it. "You're sure there's nothing I can do?"

"You could forgive me for ballsing up your trip."

"I just want to hang out with you. I've really missed you."

Rob's guard was lowered by fatigue, and the one thing in life that could always make him tearful was Tom. "Oh, for Chrissakes. You've made a grown man cry. I miss you too."

"Dad, I don't want to know if this is protecting Ian's identity in some custody battle or inheritance dispute." Tom seemed very specific. It was his way of saying he thought he'd worked out that it was precisely that. "If it helps, why not just wheel me out and say 'Look, this is my son, that's who you saw, now go away'? It's easy to prove who I am. Give her a few hairs from both of us for DNA and tell her to piss off."

"It's not that simple."
To put it mildly.
He couldn't tell Tom that she'd had plenty of time to study Ian's face. "She's met Ian."

"But it might be. There's an experiment where they switched people in the middle of a face-to-face conversation that was interrupted by a guy walking between them with a sheet of wood or something. Half the test subjects didn't even notice that everything about the person they'd been talking to had changed. For a species with so much brain devoted to vision, we're totally crap at noticing real detail. And even if she thinks she knows his face, she saw him under extreme stress. Victims get police line-ups wrong."

"Well, she's not the problem now. To be fair on her, she's just the hired help. It's the guy who came after her that I need to worry about."

"Okay, then give the hair to him."

"He's armed, Tom. This is past the talking stage. And I don't want you handing out your DNA."

"I'm documented like a pedigree bull. So are you. It goes with the territory."

Maybe it really is that simple. But let's see what Weaver does next, before Leo finds out and rips his balls off.

"Come here, kiddo." Rob hugged Tom tightly for a long moment and realised he still had that same wonderful
, familiar smell he had as a little kid, a clean skin scent with all the body chemicals that marked him out uniquely as Tom. Humans could still sniff out their kin even if they didn't consciously know it, Livvie claimed. "I love you, son. I'm sorry I had to involve you in this. I'll never forgive myself."

"Come on, Dad, it's bloody brilliant. I'm in a billionaire's house, using his private jet, drinking his cocktails, and having a murder mystery weekend, only it's real. And nobody actually dies. How cool is that?"

Tom was a born diplomat. He wouldn't have said if he was scared or upset. But Rob needed to know the truth. "Do you feel I'm putting Mike's problems before you?"

"Never. Abso-bloody-lutely never. I know what you've been through to give me all this. I'm more worried about you."

"Kiddo, I promise you it's nothing dodgy."

"And I know you weren't pleased about GCHQ."

"Tom, I'm proud. I swear I am."

"You don't like it."

"It's not a matter of liking. I'm just scared of that kind of stuff."

"Dad, I did it because I can't ever be like you. I'm never going to be Action Man. But I'm good at what I do, and if I do it right, blokes like you won't have to die and lose limbs in foreign shit
-holes. And I accept there'll always be things I don't need to know and won't be told."

Rob wasn't sure whether to be mortified or proud to the point of bursting. It was terrible to think he'd shaped Tom's choices that much. He wasn't convinced that they'd make a blind bit of difference to troops on the ground, but he'd die before he told Tom as much.

"This'll be over soon." Rob still had a grip on Tom's hand and couldn't bear to let go. "How about taking the Jag for a spin next week? Mike and Livvie want to buy you a car for Christmas, so start thinking about what you want."

Tom laughed. "This is unreal. I'm glad you and Mike haven't fallen out over this."

That was Tom all over. He didn't miss a thing. He could sense the tension.

Mike left the house at eight and told everyone to start dinner at nine if he wasn't back. Rob had discovered long ago that Livvie's dinners weren't girly domestic duty. She cooked and presided over meals like a cross between a High Court judge and Boadicea, defying those at the table to turn down anything she put before them. It was another expression of her authority, Mike said, and she was exercising that authority now. She called everyone to dinner – her favourite
cassoulet
, real rib-sticking stuff – and sat Dru next to her, facing Tom.

"This is Tom, Rob's son," Livvie said. "Tom, meet Dru Lloyd."

Rob watched Dru's face as she nodded at Tom and then glanced at Ian with a split second of surprised recognition. Rob braced.

"I saw you out walking the dog," she said. "The greyhound."

It was the look at Ian that did it. Rob would have to ask her later what she'd been thinking, but he could guess. She was doing a comparison. She hadn't said exactly how Ian had changed when he morphed. Rob could work it out for himself now. He certainly didn't want to watch Ian do it, because he'd never see Tom the same way again, and he'd feel totally robbed of a face he loved. He couldn't explain it. He just had to know that Tom was Tom, and no other face would ever remind him of his boy except Bev's.

"Yes, Oatie's
very well-behaved," Tom said. "He's Ian's."

Rob almost choked with guilt. He
needed
Tom to keep secrets from him now. He wanted him to even the score. It would make it easier for Rob live with his own secret and compartmentalize it.

Ian joined in the conversation and talked about Oatie being scared of the sheep on the ranch
, and Rob came as close to an out-of-body experience as he thought he'd ever get without incurring a head wound. There was no hint at all that this wasn't a normal dinner where people who didn't know each other swapped stories to break the ice. There were no shape-shifters, no wars, no moneyed classes, and no armed kidnappers waiting somewhere in the dark. Mike walked in about ten minutes into the meal and sat down as if it was a normal evening. Rob's surreal meter peaked.

"I put your bags in your room, Dru," Mike said. "No messages at reception, but you might want to call Clare."

Rob had Dru's SIM cards. He slipped out to find her bag and put them back in the phones. When he checked her personal cell, it was showing missed calls.

Mike caught him in the hall. "There's no sign of the bike or the van at the hotel," he said. "
We still don't know if we're dealing with a guy who keeps the bike in the van, or two separate units. Anything on her cell?"

"Missed calls," Rob said. "One number withheld."

"Better get her to check it's not Weaver, then."

Rob went back into the kitchen and put the phones on the table in front of Dru. "You want to check that one, just in case? Might be Clare."

There was no way of knowing if the biker had called Weaver and let him know where Dru was. If Rob had been her, he'd have been more worried about her kid, halfway across the country with her ex. She cleared her plate and she went out into the hall.

Mike followed. Rob strained to hear, trying not to catch Tom's eye. Livvie, telepathic as well as terrifying, gathered Tom and Ian to usher them out.

"Downstairs,
now
," she said. "I'm going to kick both your asses in the game of your choice. I'll bring the dessert."

Rob followed Mike and Dru into the living room to keep an eye on things while she checked her e-mail. "Yes, I need to reply to Clare," she said. "She might ring back."

"Anything else? No Weaver?"

"There's a withheld number. But he'd usually mail me."

She tapped out a message while Mike watched. Rob wondered how they'd keep her secured here for more than a day or two, because it was clear that it was going to get tedious even in a big house. How long would it be before they could risk sending her home?

She sat looking at th
e phone for a few minutes, a little lost. Then it rang and she made a disappointed
unnhh
sound.

"It's not Clare," she said. "Local number."

"Give me a couple of seconds and put it on the speaker." Rob held his own phone close enough to record the call. "Go ahead. Answer it."

"Mrs Lloyd?"  a man's voice said.

"Yes?"

"We both got a hell of a surprise, didn't we?"

Dru was steady under fire. Rob had to give her that. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, expressionless. "Who are you?"

"You don't need a name. Our mutual associate didn't tell either of us what his asset could really do, did he? He certainly didn't tell me, or I'd have renegotiated my terms. So why don't we compare notes? I can find a market that'll pay a lot more than he's paying either of us."

Mike was right in Dru's eyeline now, mouthing prompts at her. She followed them. Rob could only watch.

"I have no idea what you mean," Dru said carefully. "Are you the asshole who assaulted me? How did you get my number?"

"You could have cooperated and let me take the kid."

"Why don't I call the police and let them talk to you?"

"Oh, I don't think you want the cops involved. Look, I haven't told anyone yet. It's just you and me for now. Or have you done a deal with your rich buddies instead?"

"Did Weaver give you my number?"

"I know where you are now, and where you live. Think about it. You can't hide him forever."

Mike indicated to cut the call off. Dru showed him the number on the call log.

"Either he's dumb or that's a payphone."

"I'll get the number checked," Mike said.

Dru looked like she'd remembered something unpleasant. "A car was hanging around our street before I left. Clare got the plate. I bet that was someone Weaver sent as well. Like the guy said, he knows where I live."

"She's with your ex, so the
urgent question is whether this tosser knows where
he
lives." Rob was impressed by Dru's lack of panic. "Is he going to be any use if this bloke's mates comes knocking?"

"Larry's in marketing. He's not even the same species as you guys. I'll ring him now, but he'll do the full drama queen act and call the police."

Mike took over the conversation, all quiet reason. "I'll make a call and get security to watch Larry's home. He needn't even know. Just give me an address."

"Who are you going to call?" Rob asked. "Brad?"

"He's got plenty of contacts. He can always find somebody at short notice."

"That's my
kid.
" Dru was getting angry at last. "My daughter. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Nobody's going to lay a finger on Clare or anyone else," Mike said. "Sit tight and let us do our jobs. Larry's address, please. And the car's plate if you've got it."

Rob opened the security room doors and sat down to watch the screens while Mike disappeared to make calls. When Mike came back, he had a couple of extra phones. He put one on the console in front of Rob.

"All done," he said. He was wearing his thin-lipped angry look. "Brad's getting someone out there right away."

"Are these things breeding?" Rob examined the phone. "Burner?"

"I don't want
any more activity on our own phones. And that
was
a payphone call, by the way. It's the hotel one. It's even in the directory."

"So this is a
nother scenario we didn't predict."

"What is?"

"That Weaver would send a heavy and not tell him what Ian really was. That's bound to piss a bloke off."