Ultimate Weapon (6 page)

Where the hell are you?
It’s been nearly four days now since I’ve heard from you
.

Lana was wearing just her nightie when she opened the door. Jed could hear Dido playing on the hi-fi, and he could smell cocoa on the cooker. A girl’s night in with the telly, he thought. She’s probably got a tub of Häagen-Dazs already open.

‘I was just wondering if Sarah was around?’ said Jed apologetically.

‘Christ,’ said Lana, ‘it’s after eleven at night.’

Jed stepped into the flat. He was wearing jeans and a suede bomber jacket, and had a black kitbag slung on his shoulder. He’d had two beers on the train up to Cambridge, and plenty of time to think. He’d probably take the mission. He had no choice really. But he wanted to speak to Sarah first.
To hear what she thought
.

‘I haven’t been able to get hold of Sarah,’ he said. ‘I wanted to see if she was OK.’

She was watching
Ally McBeal
on one of the satellite rerun channels, but the volume was so low it was impossible to hear much of what was being said. Ally seemed to be worrying about her job. I know how you feel, thought Jed. Add in a few Ruperts and some semi-automatic machine guns, and we’d be in the same boat.

‘Her dad’s already been here today,’ said Lana.

‘Nick? Jesus, what’s he doing here?’

‘Same as you,’ said Lana. ‘Looking for Sarah.’

Jed sighed. ‘He’s not still here, is he?’

Lana smiled and shook her head. She knew all about the argument that had rumbled through years between Nick and Jed. Jed and Sarah had started dating when they were both fifteen: they’d been in the same care home for three months after her mother died, and after Jed’s own father had been sent to jail for the sixth and, as it turned out, final time. They only lived twenty miles apart, in villages on either side of Hereford, and they kept up the relationship in the on-and-off way teenagers
do. The same at Cambridge during the three years Jed had been doing his degree. But he’d always kept as far away from Nick as possible. The guy had never liked him, not from the first moment he laid eyes on him. Maybe that was why I joined the Regiment, Jed sometimes reflected. To try and impress the old bugger, make him see I was a man to be reckoned with.
Well, it sure as hell never worked
.

‘I don’t suppose he asked if she was with me,’ said Jed.

‘Funnily enough, no,’ said Lana.

‘What’s happened to her?’

Lana shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Has she been drinking?’

‘No worse than usual.’

Jed walked through to the bedroom. He could smell her the instant he opened the door. It was not just her perfume, but her clothes, her books and the scented candles she liked to keep beside her bed. ‘You might as well kip here for the night,’ said Lana. ‘It’s not as if Sarah would mind you being in her bed.’

Jed sat down on the edge of the bed. From the sitting room, he could hear the sound of
Ally McBeal
being turned up. More boyfriend problems. He got up and put his kitbag down in the corner, closing the door behind him. He glanced down at the desk, but could see nothing of interest. Sarah travelled light through life: unlike just about every other woman he had ever known, she had none of the clutter that most girls carted around with them. There were no chequebook stubs to look
at. No bank statements, or maps. If she had planned where she was going, she hadn’t left any traces behind.

This doesn’t feel right, he told himself, as he took off his sweatshirt and lay back on the familiar white sheets.

Where the hell is she?

Lana paused as she opened the door. In the background, there was a smell of fresh coffee, and the sound of music playing on the hi-fi. ‘Any word from her?’ said Nick.

It was just after nine in the morning. Nick had been up since seven, and had already taken himself for a run along the river: as his feet smashed into the pristine grass along the banks, he had been trying to make sense of what he’d learnt about Sarah in the past twenty-four hours. He knew nine o’clock was early to be calling on a student, but sod it, he had told himself just before knocking.
I need to find out what might have happened to her
.

‘No,’ said Lana, still holding the door no more than ajar.

Nick was about to step inside, but she seemed to be barring his way. ‘I thought I’d check her room,’ he said. ‘See if there are any clues.’

‘Maybe later,’ said Lana defensively.

Nick was still thinking about the hundred thousand pounds he’d seen in their joint bank account. He knew there were lots of different ways a person could make that kind of money quickly. The trouble was, almost
none of them were legal. The sooner he found her the better.
There might not be much time
.

‘You don’t understand,’ said Nick gruffly. ‘I need to check it right now.’

He stepped forward. Nick was a big man, with an imposing physical presence. His hair was turning grey but there was still plenty of it. He measured six foot two, and his chest was fifty inches, thick and strong like a barrel. His arms were solid as oak trees, and rippled with muscles, and there was not so much as an ounce of fat on him. Lana was a slim girl, only about five foot four, and as he moved forward he just brushed her aside like a feather floating past him.

‘You should …’

She was speaking, but Nick wasn’t listening. He turned the knob on the door to Sarah’s room, pushing it open. Then he paused. There was a man lying on her bed. For a brief second, he wondered if he might have come into the wrong room. Maybe this was Lana’s boyfriend. Then he noticed Sarah’s stuff – there was even a picture of him tucked into the mirror on the desk. And he recognised Jed. Even lying down, with his back to him.
I’ve known and hated that boy for a decade. I’d spot his ugly hide anywhere
.

‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he shouted.

Jed snapped awake. He swung over and looked up suddenly, as if he’d just heard the sound of gunfire. Regiment training, thought Nick. A man had to be awake, alert and ready for battle within just a fraction of a second.
Sometimes his life would depend on it
.

‘Fuck, it’s you,’ he muttered.

‘I want to know what the hell you’re doing in my daughter’s bed,’ snarled Nick.

‘Trying to get some kip,’ snapped Jed. ‘I’m alone, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Good to see everyone’s getting along so well,’ said Lana. ‘How about a nice cup of coffee? Maybe then we can all calm down.’

Nick followed her to the kitchen. He took the cup from her, stirred in two sugars and drank half of it in one gulp. From the shower, he could hear a blast of noise as Jed washed. ‘He’s not so bad, you know,’ said Lana, looking up at Nick. ‘He really cares about Sarah. I keep trying to tell her how much that should mean to her, but I think she’s so used to it, she just treats it like the weather, something that is always there.’

‘He’s a soldier,’ said Nick firmly. ‘Army life isn’t right for Sarah.’

Jed walked into the room. He took the coffee Lana offered him, cradling it between his two thick, strong palms. ‘So what exactly are you doing here?’ said Nick sourly.

‘Same as you, apparently: looking for Sarah.’

‘Why aren’t you with your unit? Or has it all got a bit hot for you now that there might be an actual war.’

He knows I fought in Bosnia, and I’ve been under-cover in Kurdistan, and Indonesia, thought Jed. Why does he needle me all the time? ‘Let’s just try to talk about what might have happened to Sarah.’

Nick took a step forward. There was an unmistakable
air of menace to his stance, like a brawler coming out of the pub on a Saturday night. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you.’

‘Bugger it, Nick. I’m her boyfriend.’

Nick shook his head. ‘You mean nothing to her. Got that? Bloody nothing.’

‘Then why the hell has she been going out with me for the last ten years.’

‘She hasn’t,’ snapped Nick. ‘Last time I saw her, she said there was nothing going on between you any more. She was talking about one of the guys in the labs. She was talking about her work. Talking about anything except
you
.’

‘And when was the last time you saw her exactly?’ said Jed.

Nick paused. ‘Almost two months ago.’ His tone was quieter.

‘Great bloody dad you turned out to be then. Too busy fighting and drinking and working to take care of your own daughter.’

Nick took another step forward. He might be fifty, reckoned Jed, but there was an air of calculated menace to his stance: the position taken by a man who knows his own strength, and the fear that it can generate in an opponent. Not to me, he thought.
You don’t scare me at all
.

‘Back off,’ growled Jed.

Nick took another pace. He grabbed the collar of Jed’s polo shirt, and twisted it between his fingers. ‘A bastard like you knows nothing about being a father,’
he said. ‘Your old man spent half his life in the fucking nick, and that’s probably where you’ll end up as well. So don’t give me any lectures on bloody fatherhood.’

Jed wiped the spit from his cheek. He could smell the sweet, sugary coffee on the man’s breath, and feel the heat and anger in his eyes. He was aware of the damage a fight between two strong men would do to the kitchen: the unit and half the furniture would be smashed to pieces. ‘Let’s finish this outside, grandad,’ he snarled.

Nick slammed his cup down on the table. It cracked, sending slithers of china crashing to the floor. The remains of the coffee splashed on to the table. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nick towards Lana.

‘Just go and fight outside if you have to,’ shouted Lana. ‘And maybe when you’ve stopped acting like a pair of bloody toddlers, you can start worrying about what’s happened to Sarah.’

All three of them fell silent. Jed reached for a brush, and started to sweep up the remains of the cup. Nick knelt down to push a piece of broken china into a rubbish bag. He looked up at Jed, immediately feeling sorry for the way he’d reacted. These days his temper was usually under control. But seeing Jed was like sparking up the blue touchpaper on a firework: it always made him explode. ‘We can finish this later,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, I have to try and find out where Sarah is.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ said Jed firmly.

‘Don’t push your luck.’

‘And don’t push yours, grandad.’

Both men were kneeling on the floor, the broken china between them, facing each other off like a pair of angry bulls again. ‘I’m going to look for Sarah as well,’ growled Jed. ‘We can do it together, or we can do it separately. It’s your choice.’

A slow smile started to spread across Nick’s lips, but there was not a hint of humour or warmth in it. ‘OK,’ he replied. ‘But just so I can keep an eye on your thick skull.’

‘Jesus, just so long as you both get out of my kitchen,’ said Lana, her tone exasperated. ‘I’ll be relieved when Sarah gets back. She’s the only person who can knock any sense into either of you.’

The lab was a grey Victorian building, on one of the side streets leading away from the Milton Road. Nick had only visited the Cambridge Institute of Advanced Physics once before, picking Sarah up before one of their regular dinners. It looked like a miserable place to work. A series of gloomy corridors, punctuated by small offices, overflowing with books and papers, and five big laboratories bristling with more pipes, tubes and measuring devices than the inside of an aircraft carrier. ‘I’m looking for Professor David Wilmington,’ said Nick to the man at the front desk.

‘And you are?’

‘Nick Scott,’ said Nick. ‘Sarah Scott’s father.’

Jed was standing at his side. From the flat, they had walked straight here. Most of Sarah’s time was spent at
the laboratory. If anyone was likely to know where she had got to, it was her professor. Who knows, Jed had remarked as they stepped inside, maybe they just sent her to a conference. She might have forgotten to tell anyone.

‘He’s busy,’ said the receptionist. He was a man in his fifties, with balding grey hair, a cheap black suit, and a white shirt open at the collar. From his manner, Nick guessed he was just punching the clock until he collected his pension. No point expecting him to help. ‘It’s urgent,’ he said flatly.

‘The professor said he was busy all –’

‘Listen,’ interrupted Jed, leaning forward on the desk, ‘tell him we just need a few minutes.’

The expression on the man’s face suggested even speaking was too much trouble. He sighed, picked up the phone, then whispered into it. ‘His meeting is important,’ he said, looking back up at Jed. ‘You’ll have to make an appointment for next week.’

Nick slammed his fist down. ‘Listen, mate –’

‘Easy,’ said Jed, grabbing Nick by the arm.

The man looked shocked. ‘We’ll arrange another time,’ said Jed quickly.

He walked from the building, steering Nick out of the door. Somehow the old man was going to have to learn to control his temper, thought Jed. But not from me.
I’m hardly the guy to start delivering tutorials in anger management
.

‘There’ll be another way in,’ said Jed as they stood on the pavement. ‘This place is about as secure as Hyde Park on a Sunday afternoon.’