The Few (The Abductions of Langley Garret Book 2) (16 page)

'I'll be here in the morning,' she said, as she got to her feet and turned for the door. As she opened the door to leave she hesitated. 'I'm sorry,' she said, without turning to look at me, and then closed the door on her way out.

*****

'Why the hell did you include Ellen?' I asked Marcus, as soon as he sat down for our meeting on Friday afternoon.

He sniffed. 'She works closely with you in her new role, and knows how to handle herself in difficult situations, so she adds a very practical layer of security. It makes sense to use the opportunity give her some field experience.'

'For you perhaps. But surely you know what happened the last time she was in Neuchâtel.'

'Yes. I know. She packaged you.'

'Shit. Nice vocabulary.'

'My job is to get you to and from Neuchâtel safely over the weekend, and I'll make sure that happens, and use who and what I believe will achieve that,' he said calmly. He sniffed again, as if he was brushing away my concerns. 'I don't deal in sentiment; I just get my job done.'

'No matter what I think?'

'My job is to keep you safe. What you think, you'll have to handle yourself I'm afraid.'

'I don't like the idea.'

'I know. Now, what do you want to know about Sa'ud bin ash-Sheikh?'

'I gather that was the end of the discussion about the weekend then,' I said.

He passed me a thin red file in response. 'If you need any more information about him, just let me know after you've read it.'

'Ok, thanks.'

'Anything else?' he asked.

'No, I don't think so.'

'Right. I've arranged for helicopter transport to the airport tomorrow morning. We'll leave at ten. Then we'll land in Bern and take another helicopter to just outside Neuchâtel. The less time on the road the better.'

'Still not sure about what happened then?'

'I know what happened.'

'So why helicopters?'

'Quicker and easier to manage.'

Ok,' I said, giving up on asking him anything more.

He stood up to leave. 'Oh, by the way,
The Barber
can provide the accommodation you asked about.

*****

There was some new furniture, and the walls had been painted, but in general, my apartment was as it was the last time I had seen it. Marcus and Ellen had entered before me, and were busily occupied with checking for whatever perceived dangers they had in their minds, while I just stood in the living room, with my past washing over me, and was caught between wanting, and not wanting to be standing there. The ghosts I had argued about with Ellen were suddenly paled by the spectres of Helen, Chara ….. and Langley Garret.

'All clear,' I heard Ellen call out to Marcus from one of the bedrooms, in a tone that reminded me of too many television programs I had seen, and clawed me out of my depressive thoughts for a moment, drawing the first smile of the day on my face. The total ridiculousness of the situation induced me to mild, yet muted laughter. The responding call of, 'All clear,' by Marcus, from somewhere else, had me struggling to hide my amusement. I moved to the window and looked out at the late afternoon sun reflecting on the rooftops on the town below, with the lake shimmering in the distance. As Ellen and Marcus went about their little military exercise, my imagination added heavy bars to my window. It wasn't home anymore – it was just another prison.

'All secure?' I heard Marcus ask, behind me.

'Yes, secure,' I heard Ellen reply.

'I'll take care of the perimeter, so there shouldn't be any problems. I'll have one of the boys bring up something for dinner,' Marcus said. I kept my eyes on the lake, and wondered what it felt like to drown.

'Thanks, we'll be fine,' Ellen replied.

'Right. Just remember why you're here.'

'Got it Marcus. I know.'

'I'll call in at around eleven.'

'Ok. See you then.'

I heard their footsteps going to the door, then the door open and shut, and the sound of the lock, and security chain. I had a thought that the balcony wasn't locked. But then decided that drowning was probably more appealing than splattering myself all over the pavement, eleven floors below.

'You ok?' Ellen asked, from somewhere between the door and me. I turned finally.

'I could ask you the same.'

'Guess the answer's no then.'

'Good guess.'

'I think the coffee machine is new. Would you like me to see if I can figure out how it works?'

'Are you trying to be nice to me?'

'Yes,' she said, with an impassive look on her face, and a hand on her hip.

'Ok, thank you, I'll try to be nice back.'

'You will. Now, go do some looking around, or whatever you want to do, and I'll get to know the coffee machine.'

I nodded. She made her way to the kitchen, and I made mine for what used to be my bedroom. There wasn't much there though when I arrived. Only memories, most of which hurt, so I didn't stay long. I thought about taking a few little things; watches, ties or a jacket or two. But they were from a time when I could choose, so I didn't bother. If I wanted a jacket, a tie or a watch, I could just dial nine now. Dial nine for fucking anything, except, for please, I would like my life back.

'Ready!' I heard Ellen shout out. So I wandered back to the living room, with only a quick glance at the other rooms on the way – and Helen's ghost, and even a little of Chara's if I was honest, following me every step of the way.

'I found chocolate chip cookies,' Ellen said. She was on the sofa, seemingly rather proud of her achievements that were sitting on a tray on the coffee table.

'You have hidden talents,' I said, trying my best to be cheerful.

'I try.'

'Thanks, I said, sitting down as far away from her as I possibly could on the sofa. It was a new sofa, but the setting was the same as the morning she had arrived with her thug friend. It was a little different though. She didn't have thug company today, and her hazel eyes weren't cutting my face. They were too sad today to be threatening. I had for so long hated her, yet now had a feeling of pity for her that was trying to gnaw at me. It didn't make sense, so I grabbed a cookie, and munched away my feelings.

'You ok?' she asked.

'Yes,' I replied, through a mouthful of cookie. She sipped her coffee, looking away, and for some reason, even though she was dressed casually, in jeans, black boots, a white top and with a less than fashionable black jacket, which I presumed she was only wearing to cover the revolver under her shoulder, I noticed that she had nipples. It was only a hint of them, through her white top, but I hadn't ever thought of her having such things. I suppose I had been too frightened of her eyes to ever bother looking. I looked away, in embarrassment most likely. She took another sip, looking straight ahead at nothing. I took another bite of my cookie.

In any other situation, I would have said she was a very attractive woman. Long brown hair to just below her shoulders, a face that while not beautiful, it was fetching and worthy of far more than simply a second glance. Fit, slim, yet certainly not a waif. I took a sip of my coffee, and moved my gaze towards the window.

'You don't seem ok, if you don't mind me saying,' she said, to me, rather than at me.

'Ghosts.'

'Yes. I imagine there are,' she said. Still looking straight ahead.

I took another sip of my coffee, and did the same. 'Yes. A few.'

A long silence followed. I knew what was running through my mind, but wondered what was in hers. It took a few minutes perhaps, but I found out.

'You loved Chara, didn't you?'

I hesitated, probably in the shock from the left field nature of the question. 'Um, I don't know. I liked her very much but well, the circumstances were quite bizarre.'

'Yes, I imagine they were. And Helen?' she asked, with her eyes still firmly set on the window in front of us.

'Maybe.'

'Sorry. I'm being nosey.'

'That's ok.'

'This wasn't one of the best ideas Marcus has ever had huh?'

'I could think of worse. By the way, what was your friend's name? I mean the one you had for company that Sunday. The one with the very bad tailor.'

'Andrew. He was killed in Athens about three weeks later on a similar assignment. Something went wrong, apparently.'

'Fuck. Shit, I'm sorry,' I said, and turned my head to her.

She turned to face me as well. Her eyes were deeper than the lake through the window. 'Another coffee?'

'No thanks,' I said, and tried to pull my eyes away from hers. The sadness in her eyes though, held me for some seconds before I finally managed to look away.

'I'll just do another check then,' she said, and I knew she was running away.

'Ok,' I said, as she got up and went off on her fake mission. I imagined her running off to cry, and hiding the fact from me.

It may have been twenty, or even thirty minutes later when she returned, with her hard exterior firmly back in place.

'You'll need to stamp your authority if you want to survive,' she told me, as she picked up the tray from the table and headed to the kitchen.

'Why?'

She waited until she was back in the kitchen before she answered me, from across the breakfast bar.

'Because, The Few know weakness when they see it, and then eradicate it. It's the way balance works.'

'Thanks for the advice. I'll try my best to play fair on the see-saw in the playground.'

'It's no joke Lang. You're dead if you don't understand,' she said, and then walked back from the kitchen and sat back next to me.

'When did you decide to call me Lang?'

'Soter sucks. I hope you don't mind.'

'Yes, Soter does suck.'

'Look, just accept this shit and do what you have to do.'

'Or?'

She looked down at her lap. 'I don't want you dead.'

The temptation to ask her how she wanted me luckily stayed in my head and didn't make it to my mouth. 'Just give me a little time. I know what's expected.'

She looked at me and smiled. With eyes and lips that should probably have been kissed. 'I think I'll have a look through my stuff and see what I want to take back with me.'

'Sure,' she said, agreeably, but with a hint of wretchedness in her voice.

I made it to my old bedroom and sat on the end of the bed, wondering what the fuck was going on. I shook my head but it didn't help. I was still living and breathing in some perverted version of a designer hell that while painted with splendour and hedonism, still smelt and tasted like very real, ordinary and everyday shit. 'Fuck,' I mumbled to myself, and let my head fall into my hands. I let it stay there for some time, accompanied by misery, until I decided it was time to fall onto my back and study the ceiling. Intensely.

Perhaps I nodded off for a moment, but somehow I must have lost track of the time.

'You ok there?' Dinner's on the way,' Ellen said, from the door of the room.

'Oh, eh, yes, ok,' I said, surprised by her presence.

'No hurry, it'll be here in about ten minutes. Take away Chinese I think. Hardly inspiring I'm afraid,' she said, and I caught her half smile and the look in her eyes that had been perplexing me since she broke down in my office.

'Right, I'll be there in a minute.'

She walked away and I hoped that when Marcus had said he was coming back at eleven, it meant it would be to take his turn to babysit me. For the night. I realised I must have napped because I felt groggy. I got up and went to the bathroom, washed my face and tried to wake up, before whatever the rest of the evening had in store for me. Hopefully Chinese followed by an early night. As I left the bathroom, I heard the doorbell, followed by voices. Ellen's and one I didn't recognise. I waited until I heard the door close before making my way to the kitchen.

'You even get Chinese beer,' Ellen said, when she saw me, and held up the two small bottles.

'They blew the budget then?'

'Seems so. Come on, before it gets cold. Can you grab some spoons and forks?' she asked, as she headed off to the dining table with the plastic bags of food and the beer. I grabbed two plates as well as the cutlery and joined her at the table, sitting down opposite her. As she opened the plastic containers and set them between us, I opened the bottles and pushed one towards her.

'You get both. I can't drink tonight.'

'Why not?'

'Not while I'm carrying.'

'Right,' I said, and watched her as she concentrated on serving my plate. When she passed my plate, her jacket opened just enough for me to catch a small glimpse of the leather holster under her shoulder, alongside her left breast. Once she had served herself, we started eating, in silence.

'It's not too bad,' she said.

'Yes, it's fine,' I agreed, and we returned to silence, and staring at our plates. I took a long swig of my beer.