The Jovian Legacy (29 page)

Now
that it was only his daughter and himself again, Carlos bombarded her
with questions. He wanted to know everything - who was Joseph’s
father, was she working as a full-time mother, was her mother still
alive. Sarah answered every question patiently. She trained young
labradors to become guide dogs for the blind. Her initial career
choice was to be a vet, but she’d been put off by the
physically demanding and sometimes unattractive tasks that were
expected of such a vocation. However, her love of animals was
passionate and someone suggested guide dog training. While training
she’d met Joseph’s father, who was an instructor at the
training institute. Unfortunately, things hadn’t gone to plan
and their union was short-lived. They’d parted company before
Joseph was born.

“It’s
almost like history repeating itself, but not quite,” Carlos
remarked to Jack.

Sarah
went on to type that she’d had a year off with Joseph and
returned to work for two days a week while Joseph spent time at
day-care one day a week, and the other day with her mother.

“Glenys?”
Carlos plonked out, one-fingered.

“Yes.
Mum is well. She…”
Sarah started to type then
stopped, her fingers poised.

“It’s
okay,”
Carlos typed encouragingly, although he had secretly
tensed up.

Sarah
continued,
“Mum married when I was four years old. He is a
good man. But she has always spoken of you. She kept your memory
alive for me by talking about you and showing me photos. She told me
how devastated she was when you went missing and feared that she
would miscarry me. Mum has always spoken of you like she still holds
a deep love for you, although I know she adores Father.”

“The
man who brought me up as his daughter,”
she added
awkwardly.

Carlos
had to swallow his pride and Jack discerned how shaken up he was by
it.

He
dictated to Jack what to type back.
“Of course, after all, I
was presumed dead.”
Carlos forced a smile.
“She
couldn’t wait around forever hoping for a miracle, could she?
Will you tell her about our contact?”

Jack
knew it was time to bow out and leave them to it. He went home to
share his news with Megan, who became as excited as he was.

“One
mission accomplished,” he said to Megan, “Carlos Dimitri
will be documented as my first successful contact.” He felt a
great sense of achievement.

Jack’s
discovery was hot news in Thebes. He was flavour of the month with
the media, and once again the whole family was treated, as guests of
Pharaoh Merenptah, to a sumptuous banquet at the Palace of Amon. The
same dignitaries were there that Jack had first met on their arrival
all those years ago: Premier Tiberius, Marquises Ahmose, Mentuhotpe,
Khafe, Suphis, Apepi, Yakobaam, Sethos, Siptah, Twore, Seti,
Remesses, Pinedjem, Smendes, Meryamun, Shoshonk, Osorkon, Darius,
Piyi, Hakoris, and Marqui Sheshonq. They made a special presentation
to Jack - an award of achievement and a cheque for 30,000 Egyptian
pounds.

Jack’s
next subject was Mr Ewen Griffiths; the man who piloted a Beechcraft
Bonanza that ‘went missing’ soon after he had taken off
from Andros Airport. Mr Griffiths’s historical information was
similar to Carlos’s; in that he’d been married a year and
his wife had had a baby on the way.

“Let’s
see if I can crack it for Ewen Griffiths,” Jack said over
dinner that evening.

Megan
placed her hand on Jack’s across the table. “Can you
take some time off, hon? We haven’t spent much time together
lately, and I was beginning to forget what you looked like.”

“Well,
we’ll have to do something about that, won’t we,”
Jack replied with a cheeky grin.

He
teed up some friends and took Megan out clubbing to
The
Kantari
,
where they drank Karkaday,
and where their enhanced senses enabled them to enjoy and respond
uninhibitedly to a provocative extravagance of music and dance. They
slipped back into the house just before dawn in happy exhaustion.

N
ow
that their relationship was back on track Jack plunged himself into
his next mission. He organised a meeting with Ewen Griffiths and
primed him for what they may discover. Ewen Griffiths was a nervous
client. Jack had asked himself whether or not it was such a good
idea after all, concerned that Ewen may not be able to handle the
outcome.

Jack
searched through the same route as he had done for Carlos albeit this
time faster as he now knew his way around. Unfortunately though,
Griffiths was a vastly more common name than Dimitri, and Jack was
faced with many to deal with.
Unlike
Carlos, who’d wanted to get in touch with his child, Ewen
wanted to contact his wife. It had been several years ago, and Ewen
felt quite apprehensive about it. Jack knew he had to narrow all the
Griffiths down to one - Ewen Griffiths’s wife, who more than
likely had remarried by now. He knew he had to tackle this one a
little differently, by intercepting data held at Births, Deaths &
Marriages; a tricky operation, but knew he had to keep trying.
Ewen’s wife
had
married again, to a Mr David John Smith.

“Excellent!
From Griffiths to the world’s most common name of Smith.
Someone’s got it in for me!” Jack complained to Megan.

Luckily,
Ewen took the news of her remarriage quite well. He said he knew in
his heart that she would have anyway, as she was a needy person who
continually required human contact. Still, he grieved for her, and
needed to take a break from the investigations to think things
through. He had to ask himself if it was worth continuing. He felt
confused as to which way to go. Jack gave him space to let him make
up his mind. Within two weeks Mr Griffiths rang Jack and told him he
wished to continue. He wanted to find out about his children.

“Okay,
sweet,” Jack stated, not really wanting to do it. He had a
hunch things might not turn out well. “I’ll see you
tomorrow night then?”

“Roger
that,” Ewen replied with new enthusiasm.

Ewen’s
wife’s name was Patricia-Marie Rose Griffiths, now Smith.

“Well,
at least she has three Christian names to work on,” Jack said
positively. “That should make it a little bit easier to track
her down. Not many people have three Christian names.”

Ewen
and Jack sat transfixed with bated breath, looking through the
computer screen into the home of Mr and Mrs David Smith. It had
taken them twenty-seven days and nights to pin down the home of
Ewen’s beloved wife and her relatively new husband of two
years. It was a view into an exceptionally large kitchen and
dining-cum-living area. To Jack they looked like entertainers
judging by the size of the dining room suite with its many chairs.

Within
a short time they saw the couple walk into the room. Ewen sucked in
his breath. The couple looked very happy together. The man, David
Smith, went over to a sideboard and poured them both a drink. Jack
could make out the label. Bacardi. The man and woman were oblivious
to the two men watching their every move. When they turned and came
closer to the computer, Ewen gasped.

“What?”
Jack questioned with urgency.

“That’s
not my Patty! I haven’t forgotten what she looks like and
that’s definitely not her. Damn it, we must’ve gotten
the wrong place.”

“I
don’t think so,” Jack replied, drawing his lips in a thin
line. “Let’s see if there’s anything around that
might tell us.”

They
manoeuvred the viewer around the room and Jack spotted a small pill
bottle sitting on the coffee table. He zoomed in to read the label
and discerned that it was a prescribed bottle of Prozac, for a Mrs
Patricia-Marie Smith.

“We’ve
got the right place,” Jack assured him. “There’s a
bottle of Prozac made out to your wife.”

“Patty
is on anti-depressants?” Ewen asked, his face falling again.
Jack nodded his head, empathetic.

The
next thing they knew was that the man and the woman were kissing.

“It’s
like it’s all new to them…like...they’re having an
affair,” Ewen said, horrified.

The
couple then put down their glasses, the man taking her hand as he led
her out of the room. Jack didn’t know what to think. He felt
rather uncomfortable to say the least.

After
an hour the man returned to the room alone. He removed the glasses
and put away the Bacardi, disappeared from view, and a short time
later, reappeared, switched on the television and sat down to watch.
After another half hour or so, another woman came through the door.
This time Ewen recognised his wife.

“Oh
my Lord she has aged!” he said in surprise.

“Is
there any wonder?” Jack quipped, then immediately regretted it.

David
Smith said something to her and she went straight into the kitchen
and started preparing dinner. Her husband continued watching TV.

“That
son-of-a-bitch,” Ewen cursed, “wait till I get my hands
on him!”

Moments
later, a pretty young woman entered the room, mid to late twenties,
her brown, dead straight hair reaching down to her waist. She
ignored David and went into the kitchen.

Ewen’s
expression changed from anger to awe. “That must be...”
he trailed off.

“Well,
she could well be, but we don’t know that yet. Don’t get
your hopes up,” Jack warned his friend. He knew that Ewen’s
highly-strung nature could get the better of him.

The
two women went about organising dinner and when it was ready placed
on the table. Only then did David Smith pick himself up off the
couch and sit authoritatively at the head of the table. He didn’t
so much as wait for all of them to sit down and start together, but
simply tucked in. Without a word being said over the dinner table,
David finished eating, rose from the table and planted himself back
in front of the television again. The women tidied up, and when
they’d finished Jack and Ewen watched as Patricia departed from
the room into the hallway. The younger woman sat down in a couch
chair and the pair watched TV for a while. David then moved over to
the sideboard again and got himself another drink. He said something
to the girl and she shook her head. Patricia then re-entered the
room. She had her bathrobe on and had come in to fetch something
before going back into the bathroom. David sat down in front of TV
again with his drink.

“That
son-of-a-bitch!” Ewen cursed again, “he’s cheating
on Patty. We have to warn her.”

Jack
switched the computer off.

“What
are you doing?” Ewen screamed.

“I
think we’ve seen enough for one day,” Jack stated evenly,
“let’s go home.”

“We
can’t just go home! We have to tell Patty about him!”
Ewen screamed even louder.

Jack,
feeling his frustration beginning to simmer, wanted to shouted back
at him, but instead looked at his companion and felt sorry for him.
“There’s nothing we
can
do. Ewen, we’re on another planet,” Jack said, trying
not to sound facetious. Ewen looked devastated.

“Look,
it’s better that we try and initiate contact with the girls
when David Smith is not in the house. We have to bide our time and
watch his movements. There’s also the risk of him noticing us
before the girls do. I’ll think of a way,” Jack assured,
calming his friend down.

Over
the next couple of weeks they became aware that David Smith had been
absent from the house on two Tuesdays.

“Hopefully
it’s a regular thing,” Jack said. “I reckon if he’s
not there next Tuesday night, we should do it. It’ll be risky,
but we should go for it. It’s our only chance.”

“I’m
keen,” Ewen said, “I can’t wait to expose that
piece of shit to my family!”

Jack
stiffened. “Just take it easy, okay? You have to approach
them carefully, one step at a time. They might freak out otherwise.”

As
far as Ewen was concerned it seemed like an eternity before the
following Tuesday came around. He didn’t sleep a wink until
then, and looked like something out of a horror movie when he turned
up at the lab.

“Oh
great, I see you’ve planned to make an impression,” Jack
sighed, staring at his dishevelled looking friend. Ewen licked his
fingers and made an attempt to plaster his hair down.

“How
about you go and use my bathroom and tidy yourself up a bit? Perhaps
have a shave?” Jack politely suggested. Ewen did as he was
told and returned looking a hundred percent better.

“That’ll
do it,” Jack smiled.

They
prepared themselves for the contact, logging on and into the home of
Mr and Mrs David John Smith. This time Jack switched on the speaker.
It almost felt like they were lying in wait for their prey. After a
moment Patricia entered the room and walked over to a bureau from
which she took out a pile of bills and sat down to write cheques.

“Hasn’t
she heard of Internet banking yet?” Ewen mused.