Spank: The Improbable Adventures of George Aloysius Brown (33 page)

The others fell about laughing.

"
He did. He did. Four hours drive through to the back of beyond and now he's searching all over Dubbo for the Gocha Memorial Arena.
"

Ha ha ha.

"
When he eventually got back he was hopping mad and drier than the dobby on a dingo. He knew we did it, concocted the whole thing, but he couldn't prove it. Shortly afterwards, he left.
"

This gave me an idea that I didn't share with the others. I would save it up for when I left. I would introduce a little invention of my own.

Among my duties on the paper is to put together the celebrities column, half a page, as someone once put it, of the insignificant in hot pursuit of the irrelevant.

Along with the antics of
Hollywood
celebrities and the usual obits of people whose names we have invariably forgotten, I invented the fictitious Count Stephan von Barrio, madcap Austrian prince. Von Barrio was always showing up in Australia, Melbourne Cup, the Sydney to Hobart yacht race, the Perth film festival, wherever I could squeeze him in. He was my little joke. In yesterday's column he was in
Darwin
attending a celebrity wedding.

Next day, as usual, I thumbed through the paper to see if the item had made it. It had not. But what I read among the obits sent a shiver down my spine.

"
Dead, Count Stephan von Barrio, 36:
Darwin
police speculate that the deceased ignored warning signs to stay off the beach and was taken by a crocodile. His body has not been found.
"

Frantically dreading what I night find, I checked my emails. And there it was, written in the code that R.C.Montgomery had taught me in
Hong Kong
.
"
Poor Stephan. Came to a sticky end. He really should have been more careful.
"

At that moment I have never been more afraid in my life. If R.C. Montgomery could hack into my office computer, get past the firewalls, remove an item in my column and replace it with another, he would certainly know where to find me. No drinks for me tonight. I have some serious decisions to make.

For a week I did nothing, except worry. Then there was another email. I decoded it, my heart beating wildly.

"
It doesn't help to ignore me. You can't hide. I know where you are.
"

Now I was really scared. I was being stalked. Jen said I should go to the police. But to tell them what? Inevitably questions would be asked about my relationship with R.C. Montgomery, questions I would not want to answer.

I decided to go back to
London
. It's a big city. I could disappear there, buy some time and I had friend in George. George was connected. He knew people. During the weeks after we first met in the writing class we saw each other frequently to talk about our books and discuss strategy. I trust him. He would know what to do.

Jen didn't want me to leave.

"
I can see not wanting to go to the police,
"
she said.
"
Talk to Steed, maybe he'll know what to do.
"

I shook my head. Not Steed. I'd already told him too much. He'd seen the marks on my body. I shivered, suddenly feeling chilled, although it was a hot summer's day. If R.C. Montgomery could beat me the way he did, what else might he be capable of?

Telling the guys at work was a tough one. I told them I had to deal with a family crisis. Said I would be back. I didn't tell them about Stephan van Barrio.

The day I left, Jen drove me to the airport. We held each other for a long time.

"
When are you coming back to
England
?
"

"
I don't know, Cat. Soon. My dad was here last year for a few days en route from
Dubai
, but I haven't seen my mum for ages.
"

"
I'll drive down to visit you,
"
I said.
"
It will be just like the old days. We'll go riding in the forest like we used to during the summer holidays.
"

"
Promise?
"

"
Promise.
"

We hugged and I walked away. I think we were both close to tears.

At the entrance to security I turned to wave a last goodbye.

"
Say hello to Ruth and give Braveheart an apple from me.
"

I don't think she heard. She didn't look back.

On arrival at Heathrow I booked into a hotel under an assumed name and the next day things seemed a lot less worrying. I dialed George's number in Pimlico.

He picked up on the third ring.

"
Hi yer, George. It's Catherine.
"

"
Oh, Catherine, hey, how are you?
"
He seemed delighted to hear from me.
"
Where are you is more to the point? Thought you were in
Australia
.
"

"
I was. I'm back. Long story. How's the book coming along? Six months is almost up. It's time for show and tell.
"

"
It's going well, I think. I'm more than half way there. I've finished the chapters on Cleopatra and Catherine de Medici. I'm on a roll. Have you heard of Boadicia?
"

"
Sure, Queen Boadicia, 1st century AD. Made a bit of name for herself riding into battle with razor-sharp scythes fitted to the wheels of her chariot. Limbs everywhere when that girl arrived on the scene. What about her?
"

"
That's where my man is now, in 1st century
England
. He's hitchhiking and she picks him up. They get along great for a while, Boadicia was a serial flirter, but then they have a huge row over the quickest way to get from Camulodunum to Londinium. He loses his patience and gives her a sound spanking in the back seat of the chariot. Puts her over his knee and paddles her little Boadician bottom with a rolled up program from the fights in the Coliseum? Guess what she was wearing under her chainmail?
"

"
I couldn't even begin.
"

"
Nothing. Who would have thought it eh?
"

"
Only a truly perverted mind.
"

Heh heh heh.

"
George?
"

"
What? You think the rolled up program is a bit over the top?
"

"
No I think you're getting your history mixed up. Lions versus Christians in ancient
Rome
was several hundred years before Boadicia. Anyway, spanking is mainstream. It's sensuous and romantic, like a massage, I don't have to tell you that. It's even hinted at in my book. Many women fantasize about being spanked.
"

George made a note of this, purely for professional purposes.

"
George?
"

"
What?
"

"
Don't even think about it. Get your mind back on track. You're supposed to be working on your novel, remember?
"

"
Yes, right. Well, I just finished a chapter where Dr.Whom makes a movie with Linda Lovelace, star of
Deep
Throat
. The research I did with good 'ol Gimble really paid off on that one. The interesting thing is that later in life she campaigned against pornography and the Doctor has a long conversation with her about that. And then he meets Germaine Greer, the Australian feminist, author of
Lady
,
Love
Your
Cunt
.
"

"
That's more like it. Lots of use of the c-word.
"

"
That's the point. Dr. Whom doesn't like the c-word. He thinks she should call it
Madam
,
Be
Polite
to
Your
Privates
. They have a big fight and
...
"

"
OK George, I get the point. You're incorrigible.
"

"
So how are
you
going, as I believe they say in
Australia
?
"

"
Not bad. My book is the classic girl meets boy.
They meet on a cruiseship, how romantic is that?
She
'
s a passenger and he
'
s an officer, third engineer to be exact. He
'
s a dashingly-handsome Pakistani. She falls insanely in love, but guess what?
She suspects he may be part of a
U.K.
home-grown terrorist cell planning to blow up the ship when it arrives in
New York
. And the clock is ticking. She has five days to get to the truth.
"

"
Never mind the truth, how
'
s the sex? Lots of heavy breathing, is there?
"

"
Their love making is more implied than written – that
'
s your department, George. Her dilemma is how to save the ship and a large part of
Lower Manhattan
without losing the love of her life.
"

"
Sounds intriguing. I
'
m sure you can find a brilliant solution.
Meanwhile, that
'
s not why you
'
re calling me is it? What
'
s really on your mind?
"

Catherine took a deep breath.

"
I
'
m worried, George. I think I
'
m being stalked by someone from my past. He may be psycho. Somehow he found out I was in
Sydney
and he knew where I worked. He even hacked into my office computer.
He sent me a couple of threatening emails, said he knew where to find me
"

"
Who is he?
"

"
His name is Raymond Charles Montgomery. We had an affair. I lived with him for a while in
Hong Kong
until he became abusive. You remember. That
'
s why I went to
Australia
.
"

"
What does he do in Hong Kong.?
"

"
He
'
s head of border security for the Special Administrative Region. I believe he reports directly to
Beijing
.

"
A government man. Probably has several identities and passports. It will make him difficult to track. But I know someone who might be able to help. Do you have copies of the emails?
"

"
On my computer, yes.
"

"
Good. Print copies and meet me at the Morpeth Arms. Do you know it? It
'
s on the Embankment at the foot of the
Vauxhall Bridge Road
. Make sure you
'
re not being followed.
And bring your computer.
"

It was 5 pm. Knocking off time. George knew he had to hurry. He dialed a number and listened to it ring, praying that it wouldn
'
t go to voicemail.

"
Hello?
"

"
Chris? It
'
s George.
"

"
George. How the hell are you? Terror of the Pimlico book club, last I heard.
"

George thought of Dolly and the collapsing Chippendale. Christ, he thought, these guys know everything.

Christopher Marples was his best friend at school, now head of surveillance, MI6. The MI6 building, a great green-trimmed concrete bunker is across the river from the Morthpeth Arms. Or is it? A taxi driver once told him it didn
'
t exist at all, that it was an illusion painted on the
London
skyline.

"
Do you still track coded emails?
"

"
Certainly, anything in code, that is, not in one of the world
'
s 274 official languages, is written in code for a purpose. We have software that can decode millions of documents in less time that it takes Google to find a sex shop in
Amsterdam
.
You tracking anyone in particular?
"