Her Moons Denouement (Fallen Angels Book 2) (21 page)

Chapter 33

The police car pulls away from the kerb and heads off down into Randolph Crescent away from DI Tait’s apartment.  I watch from a little way down the street, standing behind an outcrop of trees on the roundabout at Ainslee Place, waiting to see if anyone else comes out. It was strange seeing the images of Madame Evangeline quickly followed by DI Tait on the news.  In succession, the bone structure is nearly exact and the general proportions of the face are the same.  Massah had me thinking yesterday that Tait was another of Eve’s aliases.  I find it hard to believe, considering I had sat in a room right next to her and not even got an inkling of that.  That’s not possible considering how intimate I have been with Eve.  She was also at the foot of the Monument yesterday a few seconds after I saw Eve.  She couldn’t have been in two places at once.  But then, neither could Jess when I knew she was in the hotel room with me on that fateful New Year’s Eve.  We’ve got to check it out, because Tait lives slap bang in the middle of where Rebecca and Eve used to meet. 

I walk over the road onto the pavement by her apartment, nonchalantly strolling by, gazing up to the windows as I do, looking for any sign of life.  There is none.  I take my mobile from my jeans pocket and call Rebecca. 

‘The police have just gone.  Meet me around the back in five minutes.’

We walked down this street last night on our reconnaissance and had checked out the backs of the apartments, voyeuristically peeking through gaps in curtains.  Rebecca was right.  We saw some hellishly depraved sights last night.  The back of the buildings are accessible via Dean Gardens, just around the corner.  I walk swiftly in that direction, gazing into every window of the terraced Edwardian Townhouses as I pass them.  Most are offices, or consulates on the first couple of floors, with the apartments being on the top floor generally.  I turn a corner into Dean Gardens, walking through the dense verdant trees and thick luscious grass until I reach the back fence to Tait’s townhouse.  Rebecca steps from behind a tree and joins me at the gate leading into the long, well maintained garden.  Today she is wearing a blonde wig in a short bob, with huge black mirrored sunglasses covering most of her face.

‘Are you sure it’s empty?’  Rebecca asks, leaning over and pecking me on the cheek.  She does it so naturally, with a warmth to the touch of her lips that is comforting. 

‘I saw the boyfriend leave shortly after the police arrived.  He seemed to be upset, stomping off in the direction of the park.  It doesn’t mean he won’t come back so we better get in and out quickly.  Remember, anything that would suggest Eve.  Think about makeup, prosthetics, wigs.  Think about the clothes you know she wears.  Think about perfumes, jewellery and intimate things.  It will be that type of thing that will give her away.’

‘I don’t see how she can be Eve.  You saw the news this morning.  I mean, why would the ‘Fallen Angels’ put out a video with Eve and Tait in it if she is the same person.  What are they trying to achieve?’

‘I don’t know.  What I do know is that this building is slap bang in the middle of your old whoring ground and there’s just the slightest chance Tait is Eve. Anything is possible with these guys.’ I answer as we stalk down the side of the garden, keeping close to the boundary fence.  We arrive at the base of the outside fire escape, blooming flower pots sitting on the rusting wrought iron steps.  I step a careful path through the vari-coloured flora, Rebecca close behind, and ascend all the way to the back door of Tait’s apartment.  I quickly look around, watching for watchers.  I can only see a few people strolling through Dean Gardens, enjoying the late morning sun.  I can’t see anyone in the gardens of the other houses. 

I slide a pick into the Yale lock on the back door and wiggle it agitatedly.  It turns and I push the door open, surreptitiously slinking into a small kitchen, Rebecca directly behind me.

‘I’ll check the bedrooms, you check the living areas.’  Rebecca instructs, surprising me with her forthright command of the situation.  Her dominatrix coming out.  I nod and then start searching the kitchen.  What strikes me immediately is how sparsely furnished it is.  Apart from two cups and a still wet spoon, there is no other crockery visible, either on worktops or in the sink.  I open a few cupboards, which are also empty and pull a few drawers, not surprised to see they are empty too.  I walk from the kitchen into a narrow short hallway, the main front door at the far end of it on the right, a bedroom at the far end on the left and two doors opposite me. 

Two doors with a wall in between them.  A wall with a picture on it.  The picture is a Cezanne.  ‘The Abduction’.  It’s believed to represent the abduction of Proserpine by Pluto.  Gods and Goddesses.  I don’t need to see any more.  Eve has been here.

I hear a click to my right and the handle on the front door turns. 

‘Rebecca, hide!’  I whisper loudly as I start to step back into the kitchen just as the door opens, catching a glimpse of a man in a tweed suit.  A man I recognise instantly.  I stop on my heels, staring down the hall in utter disbelief as Harry Massah enters the apartment, smiling in my direction as he sees me.

‘Good morning John, where’s Rebecca?’ he asks conversationally as he approaches.  My mind does somersaults.  He is not surprised we are here?  How does he know Rebecca is with me?  How does he know that I have even met up with Rebecca, I never told him?  Where the hell did he get a key from?  Does he know Tait?

‘Harry, what are you doing here?’ I ask lamely, flabbergasted by his presence in the apartment.

‘All three of us need to talk and we need to talk now.  Rebecca!’ he says, his voice taking on an Irish lilt as he calls out the name, walking towards me, still smiling.

Why am I in Edinburgh? I am here because of pictures of Jessica and I boarding a train.  Pictures that Harry showed me.  Why did we search this area?  Partly because of Rebecca, but also because the CCTV footage Harry discovered showed Jess heading in this direction.  Why am I in this apartment?  Because Harry told me that he saw Jessica enter a shop and Tait leave the same shop shortly afterward.  He led me to believe they could be one in the same person.  Why am I standing here right now, utterly surprised that Harry is in front of me:  because he wanted me to be. 

‘Adam, or Ben, or Rob or the ‘Unknown Caller’ I take it.’  I say as Rebecca comes running out of the bedroom, bewildered and confused.

‘Doc?’ she questions, looking from me to Harry, confounded when she doesn’t see who she is expecting to see.

‘Answers to both those questions in a moment, but follow me please.  We don’t have a lot of time and I have a lot to tell you.’ Harry answers, walking past me and towards Rebecca who is still looking confused. 

‘Good to see you filling out a bit again, you were a rake a few weeks ago.’ he says in his Irish accent, passing Rebecca and stroking her arm as he walks into the bedroom.  I follow behind Rebecca who slipstreams his authoritative strides.

Harry walks straight to the back of the room, which is decorated in tongue and groove panelling painted duck egg blue, and presses the palm of his hand forcefully against the end of one of the grooves.  There is a click and with a slight whoosh, a door opens up into the bedroom, revealing a very short dividing walkway.  Harry enters it, takes a key out of his pocket, and opens another door at the other side. 

‘Come on through.  This adjoins the house next door.  John, pull the door closed behind you please.’ Harry instructs, in his Harry accent, upper-class and precise.

We are in another bedroom, very much like the one we have just left, but this one without a bed in.  Harry walks toward the back wall of this room, which is also tongue and grooved in the same colour, and presses his palm firmly against a spot about halfway up a groove that looks no different to all the rest.  There is a low whirr of an electrical motor and the whole wall of panelling starts to move sideways, exposing row upon row and column upon column of monitors.  Eighty in total, all with different images on them.  Some have images of rooms, some of people, some of maps with flashing red dots.  Some are full of notes and pictures.  It is like an electronic version of an incident wall.

Harry quickly glances at the screens, his gaze pausing on one with a map, a still dot and the name ‘Eve’ above it, before turning to face us both.  Rebecca is at my side and her hand snakes into mine, squeezing it nervously.

‘I have a lot to tell you and I know you will have a million questions so I want to start by saying we don’t have time to answer them all right now.  Either you live with that, or you leave now.  It is entirely your choice.  What do you say?’ Harry asks.

I squeeze Rebecca’s hand once, and she speaks.  ‘We can live with it.  We just want to know why Doc.  Why are we here?’

‘Right at this moment, you are here because we need your help.  Eve has been abducted and we do not know where she is.  We need your help to try and find her.’ Harry asks, openly and with sincerity.

‘Hold on.’  I say, just a tad sternly.  ‘Is it Eve who was disguised as Annie Tait?’

‘Yes, Eve is Annie.’

‘Well, you already know that Annie, sorry Eve is missing, you broadcast that on your latest video.  I’m confused?’

‘Yes, we did broadcast that.  That was our plan.  But the plan wasn’t that Eve would really be abducted.  The plan was to make it look like she had been abducted.  It was meant to apply pressure on Bentley and give the police some more ammunition to use against him.  It was also to allow Eve time to focus on breaking him down. But Eve genuinely went missing last night and our Plan A is currently in the balance.  I am hoping you will agree to be our Plan B.  Look, I am answering things out of turn here.  I need to tell you what is going on so at least you have the right information to make an informed decision.  Let’s start with who I am.’  Harry finishes, raising his hands to his face, and rubbing his fingers over his cheeks, eyes and brow, harder and harder.  Skin breaks, or at least that’s what it looks like, but I quickly realise it is painted latex from the mask he is wearing as he pulls it off his face. 

I always question myself when I look in the mirror.  Ironically, I think it makes you reflective when you are looking at your own physicality.  It makes you question who you really are. You see the wrinkles starting to show around the eyes from too many late shifts.  You see your lips frowning from not enough smiles and far too much pain.  You look into eyes that wear the weight of the world. 

Rebecca gasps, looking quickly back and forth between the two of us, mouth agape.

But when you see your own face, and there are no wrinkles, and the lips are smiling with no frown lines, and the eyes are alive with possibility, it really brings home how much we wear our experiences on the outside, for all to see.  It shows how two people who are otherwise identical, who must be twins, can look so different.  I see me, but I don’t see my soul.

‘Are you my brother, my twin brother?’ I ask, the question coming out broken, from a dry throat.

‘Unfortunately, that’s not for me to say.  It is for you to discover, and right at the moment, it is not why we are here.  What I can say is that I am Adam and I am the father of the ‘Fallen Angels’.  I was born Robert Caldwell and over the years I have had many names.  You have known me as a few of them.’

He can’t tell me!  He is standing right in front of me, a man that is my fucking double, must be my fucking twin, must know where I fucking come from and who my fucking parents are and he can’t tell me!  He sees the fury in my eyes and his own fill with empathy as he approaches me and holds my arms.

‘John, I am sorry for being so brutal.  I know you want answers and while it is a simple question, believe me, the answer is far from simple.  We don’t have time and I have to be honest, and yes, brutal, you aren’t ready to have that question answered, not yet.  Now I need to tell you what is going on.  I need to ask for your help.  Can we focus on that please?’

‘Better do as the Doc says John.  He knows what he is doing.  He saved my life and led me on the road to redemption.’  Rebecca adds, squeezing my hand tighter, winking at me.

The fury is still bubbling in my stomach, but I can see that he isn’t going to tell me anything.  I can see that clearly in his eyes.  ‘Okay, so this all has to do with Fenny Bentley, does it?’

‘This part does.  Our bigger plan is about exposing the hypocrisy of religion, about exposing the monsters out there that use faith as a weapon and about asking people to question their fears.  This last part is about the Bentley family.  Eve has been living a life as Annie Tait for just over eighteen months now, from shortly after you were convicted of murdering Michael.’ he says, looking over to Rebecca.