Hider/Seeker (26 page)

The sun had been up for hours as he sat on a bench in Regent's Park, waiting to catch sight of Bethany. For the past eight months, he'd thought of nothing else but this day. Nelson had told him that she strolled along the tree-lined broad walk every morning with her baby.

Bethany didn't know he was back in London because he hadn't told her. Eight months was a long time to remain silent and he felt she might put the phone down on him if he just called out of the blue. He'd only written one letter to her after leaving St Lucia, explaining he couldn't return home just yet. The letter was postmarked from the Democratic Republic of Congo, but that was not where he'd been living all those months. He'd been hiding in Lisbon, where years ago he acquired a bolt-hole from London in case the Koreans showed their heads again for McCaffity's money. Lisbon was a good city to lay low and forget what had happened in St Lucia. He'd found casual work at the docks and at night there were bars and clubs to keep him entertained. It was easy to forget about the outside world and pretend things were still normal as no one asked him questions.

When he arrived in Lisbon from St Lucia he made an anonymous call to the police in Castries where to find Oscar's body and that of his assassin, Baptiste. He could have shopped Angela Linehan as well and explain about the dead cops in her villa, but decided the police would figure it all out on their own. Instead, he called Detective Inspector Wallace Gemmell, telling him the entire story from what Ed Parker was into with Nick Linehan and how she'd fooled everyone, staging her own disappearance to make it look as if she had been kidnapped and murdered.

Gemmell had asked if he knew of her whereabouts, but Harry couldn't help. Neither did Harry bother to mention that someone at the Met had been leaking information about him and Bethany to the Marottas. His chief suspect was the Yorkshireman, Kinnear, but it could have been anyone handling his case.

He knew it was far too soon for him to be showing his face in London, but he had to see her again, even from afar, if that was how it had to be. Providing he was careful, it would be alright, and he could be back in Lisbon before the weekend ready for his next shift.

He spotted Bethany in the distance, pushing a stroller along the shaded broad walk. Her cotton dress floated in the gentle September breeze as she chatted on her mobile, the baby fast asleep in the buggy.

A football arced over his head and bounced on the path in front of him. It was too much of a temptation for him. He had to get up and kick it back to the kids playing nearby. As he punted the ball twenty yards, he caught Bethany's eye. She stopped talking and slipped the mobile in the back of the buggy. He didn't know what she would do next, and feared she might turnaround and head straight back to her apartment. But she started running with the buggy towards him.

They hugged and kissed in the middle of the broad walk, turning the heads of passers-by. Not that it mattered to Harry as his eyes were firmly fixed on hers. They were so lively. She then let go and introduced him to her daughter, Henrietta.

‘I've named her in honour of you,' she explained.

He bent down to look at the baby in the buggy. She was marshmallow white and fast asleep, her hands in cotton mitts.

Bethany smiled at the sight of Harry and Henrietta together. ‘Neither of us would be here, if it weren't for you.'

‘Henrietta, though?' he shrugged, making a disapproving face about the name she'd chosen.

‘Shut up Bridger, it's a lovely name. Ed would have approved.'

They had lunch in the cafeteria in the park. It was still warm enough to eat outside, and they sat at a table, like a family with young Henrietta asleep in her buggy. Bethany wanted to know why he hadn't written for such a long while, as she had thought something serious had happened to him. He told her, he'd tried many times but he kept tearing up the letters. Besides, it might have been dangerous for her and the baby if the Marottas got wind of them communicating again.

Just the mention of that name terrified her. She became fidgety, touching her face, then stroking her hair that covered her scarred ear from plastic surgery. Harry leant forward and pulled her hand away so that he could see what they had done to her. She saw his anger, and then held both of his hands across the table.

‘Let's not dwell on the past,' she said. ‘Promise?'

He agreed.

‘But there is just one last thing I need to know. Who killed Ed?'

Harry could have told her, but it served no purpose. To mention Angela Linehan's name would have raised suspicion that Ed was having an affair with her, even though he hadn't. He knew it would fester in Bethany's mind and destroy the memories she still had for Ed. He just shook his head that he didn't know.

She let go of his hands, sat back and took in a deep breath. Her face looked serene and he'd judged correctly not to have told her about Angela Linehan.

‘It's finally over, isn't it?' she said, referring to their ordeal with the Marottas.

Harry knew differently. ‘Of course it is.'

‘That's why you're back?'

‘Just a fleeting visit while I look over a few flats.'

‘And Gemmell?'

‘Dropped all charges.'

‘Stay with us, until you find a place.'

‘Nelson has taken care of that.' The lies were beginning to mount up.

‘Just one night.' Her eyes pleaded him to agree.

He nodded.

She let him push Henrietta's buggy on the way back to the flat, and he felt an overwhelming ease descend upon him. Was it the feeling of fatherhood that made him so happy and so responsible? Had he finally grown up? It would have made his father proud to see him back with Bethany once more and helping her with her baby. His new frame of mind made it easy for Harry to pretend, if only temporarily, that the Marottas were history, and he was free again.

The porter was not at his desk when they entered the building, and they went immediately up to the top floor in the lift. Bethany put Henrietta to sleep in her cot, and then pulled Harry by his hand into her bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed and began to take off his boots.

They made love all afternoon. Tireless, selfless love. The healthy type that had an energy all of its own. They had forgotten how it was between them and it felt like home again. With their bodies fully spent, they fell into the deepest of sleeps.

The sunlight filtered through the cotton curtains and the afternoon gently passed by. They barely moved on the bed, their limbs still interlocked. Nothing could disturb them for the moment. And nothing did for a couple of hours until Henrietta's crying in the other room woke them up. While Bethany went to feed her, Harry took a shower. He could still smell her on his body as the steam built up, and then he washed it all away.

It was Bethany's idea for him to take the car to Camden to pick up some fish and chips. He waited in line until his order was called by a sweaty Turk in a chequered bandana.

Back in the car, he circumnavigated the one-way system around the neighbourhood before heading back to Prince Albert Road. He lowered his speed, as he couldn't remember how far down the street she lived. Spotting the brown-brick apartment block, he pulled up outside the gates to the car park. He had no fob on the car keys to open the gates and he didn't want to call Bethany on his mobile as she was busy with the baby. He stretched out of the window and pushed the intercom button for reception. No answer.

Harry left the car and set off to look for the porter, but he was not at his desk. He could see Bethany's car on a small monitor built into the desk. He waited a minute before becoming impatient and began to search for a button that might release the gates to the car park. He sat down on the porter's chair and felt under the desk with his hands for a release switch. But there was nothing. In front of him was an array of cubby holes with papers and documents stuffed inside. There was a large diary opened to show expected deliveries, and notes on works being carried out on the apartments on certain days. He swivelled around on the chair to take another look at the foyer in case he'd missed something when entering the building. But there was nothing. There had to be a button on the desk and he began to finger through the cubby holes. He pulled out slips of papers, mostly out of date parking tickets and delivery receipts. In between one of them he found something that caused him to stop what he was doing. It was a passport-sized photograph – of himself. Seeing his face staring back at him caused the hair on the back of his neck to rise. The picture he'd long forgotten about was probably stolen from one of the boxes he'd left in his lock up after being kicked out of his flat. What was it doing on the porter's desk?

Harry could hear footsteps and quickly put all the slips of paper back into the cubbyholes. He stepped back several paces from the desk and waited.

The porter, who he vaguely remembered meeting the previous Christmas, trotted in front of him. He had round shoulders and came up to Harry's chest.

‘May I help you?' asked the man while straightening the jacket of his uniform.

‘I don't know how to open the gates to the car park.'

‘There's a visitors car park, just outside.'

‘I'm returning a car of one of your residents. Handbrake needed tightening.'

‘You can leave the key with me, Sir, and I'll take care of everything.'

‘The lady said she'd pay me in cash,' said Harry, handing over the car keys to the porter.

‘The name of the car owner?'

‘Mrs Parker.'

The porter's face changed. His lips stiffened and his eyes became alert as he lifted the phone to call Bethany. While it was ringing, Harry could see the porter trying to work it out. Why did Harry's face look familiar?

Harry was drunk the last time they met, surely that would stick in his memory, and prompt him to take a look at the mug shot he'd squirreled away in the cubby hole of his desk. But the penny was slow in dropping. Harry could see only confusion on the porter's face as he waited on the line.

Bethany finally picked up.

‘Your mechanic has returned the car, Mrs Parker. Would you like me to send him up?'

The porter nodded he could take the lift. But Harry told him he had to fetch something from the car first. He returned moments later with a bag of fish and chips. ‘It's for Mrs Parker,' he said. ‘The things I have to do for customers,' he added, shaking his head.

Harry and Bethany didn't use plates and ate straight out of the paper wrapping. They sat at the kitchen table, picking at the fish and chips with their fingers. He'd explained he had to lie about the car on account of finding the photo of himself in the porter's desk. But he was quite sure the porter didn't fall for the story, and was probably at that moment riffling through the cubby holes for the picture.

‘What will he do when he finds it?' she asked.

‘He won't.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because it's in my pocket.'

‘He'll probably forget all about it.'

‘Not if they're paying a lot of money, he won't.'

‘The Marottas?'

‘Who else.'

‘You need to tell Gemmell what's going on.'

‘That's as good as confirming I'm here. The Marottas have a mole in the force.'

‘So what are you going to do?'

‘I can't stay here, waiting for the porter to make that call.'

‘Don't go,' she pleaded.

‘I must, you'll be in danger while I'm here.'

‘To hell with the risk if it means we can be together. I'm not letting you out of my sight again.'

He took some comfort from her words, but he knew it would never be possible to live a life under constant threat. If this worked out to be his only visit, he decided he would make it last as long as he could.

The following night Harry felt like a man who'd bought a winning lottery ticket, but was not allowed to claim it. Bethany was sitting opposite him at his favourite Italian restaurant, pleading with him not to run away again. But if he did, she wanted to go with him, along with Henrietta. That was an absolutely crazy idea as he tried to explain to her what it would really be like, living a life always on tenterhooks. The Marottas only wanted him. She and the baby would be safe without him, but not if they were all living together. Bethany just couldn't accept it.

All these years he'd waited to have her back in his life again and now he had to push her away. He couldn't jeopardise her safety or that of the baby's.

They ate and drank as they went back and forth over the same issues. She couldn't understand why it had to be the way he said it had to be. Surely, their best chance was to stick it out in London under police protection. But the Marottas would get wind of any information about them because they had tentacles everywhere, including the Met, he reminded her.

The plates were taken away by a young waitress, and they were left with half a bottle of Frascati to finish between them. He filled their glasses and said, ‘It's simply not fair on Henrietta.'

She couldn't argue with that, and took a mouthful of wine. The silence from her that followed was resignation that there was no way out of this mess. Nothing could be done to change it all.

‘But it will be safe for me and Henrietta to stay in London?'

‘Sure. Because while you are here, they know I will come and visit you. They can't afford to search the world for me. They want to set a trap for me here. That's why they let you go when the money was paid. To lure me out at a later date.'

‘You mean, I'm no more than human bait?'

‘For want of a better word.'

She sighed. ‘What do you want me to do?'

That was the one question that Harry couldn't answer or more to the point was afraid to answer. He should have told her to forget about him and find someone better. But he just knew they would end up together, no matter what. He just hadn't figured out how. If he could survive another year alone, there was still a grain of hope.

‘You're really sure you want to take a chance on me?' he asked.

She nodded.

He knew she couldn't possibly understand what it would entail or how long it would take. So he explained what she would have to do, if she really wanted a chance together in the future.

‘You're going to have to disappear very slowly. Detach yourself from family and friends. But take your time. This sort of thing can't be rushed. Little by little, you start putting out disinformation about yourself.'

‘Like what?'

‘That you want to start a new life in Australia to get over Ed. Make it sound real to your friends and neighbours, even the porter. Tell them of a business opportunity out there or something. Then, when the time comes, sell your apartment; ship out your furniture; close down all your accounts.'

‘Then what?'

‘Live in virtual Australia. Nelson will get someone to post cards and letters from you.'

‘You mean, I don't go there, but somewhere else?'

‘Yes.'

‘How long for?'

‘Until I tell you to fake your own death.'

‘What about Mother?'

‘She couldn't know the truth.'

‘You mean, I'd never see her again?'

He nodded.

Her eyes told him straight away, she didn't have the same madness of his clients who would have done exactly what he'd suggested. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The stark reality of their situation was finally sinking in. Their situation was hopeless, just as it had always been.

‘What a stupid mistake we made all those years ago,' she said.

Harry agreed.

Neither of them had appetite for dessert. She rested her hand on his and said, ‘Send me a card on my birthdays. That way I'll know you're okay. Promise?'

He nodded again.

‘No goodbyes, Bridger. I couldn't bear a final kiss. Just go, now.'

They looked at each other for a while longer without saying another word, then he got up to leave. She shut her eyes as he put his hand on her shoulder, a tender squeeze of understanding.

Harry stepped out into the chilly night, swapping the cosy hubbub of the restaurant and its hissing espresso machine for the police sirens of London.