The Rain-Soaked Bride (7 page)

Fratfield projected a couple of colour stills of the crash site on the wall.

‘For some reason, Holley had exited the car and started to walk down the hill.’

‘Probably a bloody argument,’ said Sir Robin. ‘The pair of them were always taking potshots at one another.’

‘I doubt he would have got so cross he decided to walk home,’ commented Fratfield. ‘They were still thirty miles away.

‘Holley leaves the car,’ he continued, ‘and walks down the hill, at which point the car’s brakes fail and it rolls after him. Holley is lying on the road by the time the car hits him otherwise he might have survived.’

‘He was lying down?’ asked Shining.

‘Best guess is that he turned to see the car, lost his footing in the wet—’

‘Ah … the
wet
…’

‘Indeed, and then the car ran over him. It eventually collided with a tree, hence Mrs Holley is still in intensive care. She was thrown from the vehicle on impact and has suffered severe cranial injury.’

‘Do we know for a fact that the brakes failed?’ asked Toby. ‘Is it possible she did it on purpose?’

‘That had occurred to the investigation team, though given the effect the accident had on her they’re inclined to dismiss her involvement. There is no actual evidence of damage to the brakes.’

‘Just because she was hurt doesn’t mean she wasn’t the instigator,’ said Shining. ‘She may have taken what seemed a golden opportunity to dispose of her husband, not realising the trap she was springing would close on them both.’

Fratfield shrugged. ‘It’s a possibility, certainly. But the damaged mobile and the rain would suggest it’s linked to the other two deaths rather than just a spontaneous act of murder.’

‘Ah yes,’ said Shining, ‘the rain. You said the ground was wet.’

‘Absolutely. Obviously, it’s harder to be so precise given the accident happened in the open but there was no rain reported in the area last night. That specific area appears … what was the word you used?’ He looked to Shining. ‘“Saturated”, exactly that.’

‘It’s all most bizarre,’ said King.

Sir Robin remained silent.

Shining looked at the photo for a few seconds longer then nodded. ‘Bizarre indeed. So what’s the plan moving forward?’

‘I’m taking over from Sir James,’ said King. ‘Though talks have been delayed for today, the Secretary of State is determined to get back on schedule. We are due to meet with the South Korean contingent tomorrow. In an attempt to increase security, both delegations have agreed to relocate discussions to a place called Lufford Hall, a stately pile in Warwickshire that we like to fall back on occasionally. The hope is that, with all of us under the same roof, security can be more easily handled.’

Shining nodded. ‘Though an expression involving eggs and baskets also springs to mind.’

‘If that’s the case,’ said Fratfield, ‘then we’ll be jumping into the basket too. As well as the trade delegation, there will be a number of security officers in attendance. Details are on the memory stick.’

Shining patted at his pocket. ‘I shall review them with interest. The first obvious suggestion would be to ban all mobile phones.’

‘Naturally,’ said King, ‘though I can’t tell you how much GCHQ kicked up a fuss at that.’

‘Of course they did,’ said Fratfield. ‘They’ll have been gleefully bugging them all.’

‘Other than that,’ said Shining, ‘I’d have to look into it a little more before offering any suggestions.’

‘There’s a surprise,’ said Sir Robin. ‘Told you it would be a waste of time.’

‘Tell me, Sir Robin,’ asked Shining with an innocent smile, ‘will you be attending the summit at Lufford Hall?’

‘Of course not,’ Sir Robin replied. ‘I have more than enough to contend with.’

‘What a shame,’ Shining continued. ‘Still,’ he looked at King, ‘at least you can be assured that I will be doing all I can to ensure the safety of those who are.’

a) Regent Street, London

The briefing dragged on for another half an hour or so, as things descended into laborious agreements over departmental minutiae. It often seemed to Toby that the biggest enemy in Intelligence was organisation, the constant battle between sections as to who held responsibility for what. Unsurprisingly, nobody was quite ready for Section 37 to be anything more than an adjunct to the whole affair. He and Shining were to be advisers, allowed to pursue their own line of investigation and offer suggestions as to security matters at Lufford Hall. It was clear, however, that King, reserved the right to dismiss whatever suggestions they might offer.

Toby found it hard not to be a little insulted, but Shining didn’t care.

‘Just knowing that I brought Sir Robin’s ulcers one step closer to erupting is joy enough,’ he said as they walked along Regent Street.

‘That certainly helped,’ Toby admitted.

‘You know what they’re like,’ said Shining, pausing to look at a shirt in the window of Hawes and Curtis, ‘it’s a wonder they wanted to talk to us at all. Anyway, we’re not in this to further our egos, we’re here to save lives.’

‘I know,’ Toby agreed, ‘but a little pandering to the ego wouldn’t hurt.’

Shining smiled. ‘You don’t need their validation, to hell with them, look at how far you’ve come in less than a year. Remember what you were like when you first appeared on my doorstep?’

Toby nodded, he had been at his lowest ebb at that point. Crippled by PTSD and panic attacks, uncertain of his place in the world, let alone the service. He had been sent to Section 37 as a punishment, a way of killing his career stone dead. In actuality, it had been the making of him.

As he thought about that first day, arriving on the doorstep of the Section 37 office, he thought of Tamar, who had originally opened the door to him and that soured his mood even further.

‘She’ll get there,’ said Shining. ‘Just give her time.’

Toby scowled at his superior. ‘Are my thoughts that obvious?’

‘Yes!’ Shining laughed and they continued their way along the street. ‘I can always tell when you’re thinking about Tamar.’

‘How?’

‘You take on a sort of beaten dog look.’

‘Lovely.’

‘I think it’s terribly sweet. Anyway, enough introspection.’ They cut past Piccadilly Circus. ‘What do you think about the matters in hand?’

‘The mobile phone is obviously some form of delivery mechanism, though God knows of what.’

‘Yes, the mobiles do seem key, don’t they? And the fact that they’re all destroyed afterwards is suggestive.’

‘Someone covering their tracks?’

‘Perhaps. Either that or it gives us an idea of the potency of whatever it is the mobiles are triggering.’

‘Some form of signal? Perhaps with a hallucinatory effect?’

‘I have no doubt that’s the line Fratfield is taking, the police too. Doesn’t explain the rain, though, does it?’

‘No. But then, what does?’

‘Brilliant isn’t it? About time we had something exciting to sink our teeth into.’

They entered Leicester Square, Toby tutting as he had to circumnavigate a group of tourists distracted by the questionable wonders of the M&M’s store. ‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘To consult an expert,’ Shining replied, ‘though I’m afraid we’ve come at a rather awkward time.’ He gestured towards Leicester Place. ‘She’s performing at the Leicester Square Theatre.’

‘She’s an actress?’

‘She wants to be,’ Shining sighed. ‘She’s appearing in an acting showcase. One of those awful things where a bunch of actors strut around performing little set pieces in front of audiences of agents and casting directors. I was invited but I was determined to be far too busy to attend. As we need her help, however, it might be politic to show our support.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’ve got an hour or so before it starts. Hopefully she’s here already.’

He pulled out his phone and made a call.

‘Cassandra, darling … Yes … Of course I am, in fact I … Yes … Well, I was wondering … Right … Of course … Yes … So is there any chance? … Right … Yes … Fine …’ He hung up.

‘She seems a quiet woman,’ said Toby with a smile.

‘Impossible. I’m no wiser as to her whereabouts now than I was when I started. Apparently, she had to go and do some breathing exercises.’

‘She does do it then?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Breathe.’

‘Very occasionally. That’s when someone else gets the chance to say part of a sentence.’

‘So, we have to wait an hour, do we?’

‘Afraid so. It should be worth it, though. For all her eccentricities, Cassandra Grace is an undoubted expert on the subject in hand.’

‘Which is?’

‘Curses.’

b) Leicester Square Theatre, Leicester Square, London

In a manner so lazy as to seem positively treasonous to Toby, the two officers pottered around the bookshops on Charing Cross Road while they waited for the show to begin.

While they were making no forward steps on the operation in hand, Shining did find a pile of cheap Modesty Blaise novels so he, at least, was happy.

They returned to the theatre and Shining announced himself to the woman behind the box-office window as Christopher Barclay.

‘And this is my colleague, Terry Nevill,’ Shining said. ‘I’m afraid he’s not on the guest list but I only heard he was flying over from Los Angeles this morning. He’s here to look into casting for the latest Cruise picture.’

‘Cruise?’ the woman asked, her eyes lighting up. ‘Tom Cruise?’

‘Tom-Tom,’ said Toby in a passable West Coast accent. ‘What a guy.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine if you go in,’ the woman said, reaching for her mobile phone and Twitter feed. ‘Do help yourself to drinks and canapés.’

‘Cool,’ said Toby. ‘I haven’t had a damn thing since a bagel at LAX.’

‘Do try to remember it’s the actors that are auditioning for a role,’ said Shining to Toby as they descended the stairs towards the basement theatre, ‘not you.’

‘You’re just jealous of my considerable talents,’ Toby replied.

The drink and canapés turned out to be lukewarm Cava in plastic cups and egg sandwiches. They helped themselves to both and sat down on the back row of the little theatre space.

‘If I could just give you the information sheets about today’s performers,’ said a woman who was wandering about the place in a state of panic. ‘Did you give your contact information to the box office?’

‘They know who we are,’ Shining assured her with a smile, taking the proffered sheets. ‘So good of you to invite us.’

‘Not at all,’ she replied, her eyes wandering towards the backstage entrance where a loud voice was explaining to anyone in Central London with functioning ears that she had lost her ‘cardboard mandibles’. ‘If you’ll just excuse me for a moment?’ she said and ran off looking tearful.

‘What’s this, then?’ Toby asked, flicking through the sheets. It contained the casting photos of the afternoon’s performers and space for the audience to make notes.

‘No need to worry about it,’ said Shining. ‘Nobody else will be.’

‘No, the important thing about maintaining cover is sticking to the details. If I’m supposed to be a casting agent, I intend to act like one.’

‘If we were doing that, we wouldn’t have turned up in the first place,’ said Shining.

A handful of other people trickled in. They all looked as if they didn’t really belong, eating their egg sandwiches with a guilty air.

‘When you organise these things,’ said Shining, ‘you end up with a room full of family and friends, all pretending to be someone terribly important as it’s supposed to be open to industry professionals only. And backstage, every actor looks at another actor’s mum and wonders if she’s going to give them their big break. It’s a bit miserable really.’

‘Well,’ said Toby, loudly, in his West Coast accent, ‘I think some of them show real promise. Look at the eyebrows on this kid, he’s got the makings of a star, I tell you.’

‘You’ve just made every male actor behind that curtain wet themselves, you awful bastard,’ said Shining with a grin.

Eventually the show started and they were treated to a procession of couples performing three-minute duologues from various plays. It was, for the most part, awful. Desperate actors hurling their biggest performances against the poky walls of the little room. Lots of standing up and walking purposelessly across the tiny stage in an attempt to look dramatic. There is nothing quite so sad as an actor fighting for your attention.

When Cassandra came onstage, Toby was surprised to see that she appeared to be dressed as a giant insect, pipe-cleaner antennae bobbing as she wrestled with her fellow actor in an apparent attempt to eat him. Ninety seconds later she had walked off proclaiming herself to be Queen of Colony Nineteen. After a few silent moments, her co-star crawled off on his hands and knees.

‘What the hell did I just see?’ whispered Toby.

Shining looked at his notes. ‘“A theatrical adaptation of Saul Bass’s 1974 film,
Phase IV
, written and directed by Cassandra Grace”,’ he announced.

‘Right.’

Toby stared in silence at the rest of the show.

c) Leicester Square, London

Once the show had finished, Cassandra burst into the auditorium trailing curly blonde hair and scarves.

‘We need to go,’ she told Shining. ‘If I stay in this room any longer, I am likely to kill someone.’ With that she stormed back out again, and Toby and Shining were forced to jog after her, pushing their way past disappointed-looking actors who had been hoping to network with the only people in the building that looked like they might actually work in the industry.

‘I don’t believe it,’ one was heard to mutter. ‘You see that? They only went chasing after fucking ant girl. I think I’ll just retire.’

By the time they got on the street, Cassandra had bought herself a cup of ice cream from the Häagen-Dazs café and was shovelling it into her mouth where it vied for space with insults for her fellow actors.

‘They just don’t know real creativity!’ she was saying. ‘I mean … Ibsen? Chekhov? Do we really need to sit through more amateurs being miserable in Russian? I was engaging with the audience! I was offering something fresh!’