Changeling (4 page)

‘But the passport and the birth certificate . . .’

Lucien waved a hand in the air. ‘These things can be bought for the right price if you know the right people, Trey. It was my hope that by having those things with me that we would have been able to avoid that disagreeable scene that you were just forced to witness.’ He shifted in his seat so that he completely faced Trey. ‘My apologies for that – it must have been rather unpleasant for you.’

‘Those things that you said about Mr Wallington. Were they true?’

‘I never tell lies, Trey. I may choose not to answer all questions that might be put to me, and I might even substitute one truth for another, but I don’t lie. So, yes, all of those things were true.’

‘You lied about your name.’

The stranger inclined his head as if considering this. ‘No. I told him that my name is Lucien. The papers that I handed to him had my photograph next to the name Lucien Laporte, but I never told him that that was what I was called.’

Trey considered this, but was uncomfortable about the ambiguity of Lucien’s argument.

‘What happened in the room just then?’ Trey blurted out.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You held up your hand and everything . . . everything stopped. That fly over there,’ Trey nodded in the direction of the window. ‘It died and then it . . .’

The quizzical look on Lucien’s face caused Trey to flush a deep shade of red. ‘Sorry, I’m not making any sense. It’s just that I thought . . . I thought that . . .’

‘You thought that fly over there was dead?’

Trey shook his head. Everything that had happened to him already this morning had clearly had more of an impact than he had imagined. He was making a fool of himself, babbling on about dead flies to this strange man.

‘How could you possibly have found out all those dreadful things about Colin?’ he eventually asked.

Lucien frowned, considering how to answer this question. ‘All men have secrets that they hide away. Some men try to keep them hidden in the deepest, darkest recesses of their being. But these secrets lie in wait, biding their time until they are eventually uncovered, and then they emerge, their fangs bared, ready to pierce the hearts of those that have kept them imprisoned for so long.’

‘You haven’t answered my question.’

‘It is not an easy question to answer, Trey. Not in the short time that we have available to us now. Let us just say that I have a gift for peering into the more clandestine areas of a man’s make-up. Like looking through a window to see what happens in the locked room beyond.’

Trey turned to look at the man sitting next to him. Something about the way that he’d referred to locked rooms had been deliberately employed to strike a chord with him. His intense stare was mirrored unflinchingly until, with a slight raise of his eyebrow, Lucien broke the silence.

‘Is everything OK, Trey?’ His eyes softened again and that boyish smile played across his face.

‘It was you, wasn’t it? You were responsible for trashing my room and destroying my possessions last night, weren’t you?’ Trey stood up, looking down at the man on the sofa. Lucien peered down at the material of his suit and picked at an invisible fleck of something on his trousers.

‘Your Mr Wallington may have been wrong about a number of things, Trey, but I am afraid he was completely correct in his assumption as to who was responsible for the events that took place in your bedroom yesterday.’

‘You’re lying,’ Trey insisted, his voice wavering. ‘If you had nothing to do with it, how come you know anything about it?’

‘I’ve told you already, I don’t lie. You yourself have just told me what occurred in your room last night. Sit down, Trey, please.’ He nodded back at the seat next to him.

Trey closed his eyes and blew out his cheeks. His head was whirling with everything that had already gone on, and he was struggling to keep himself together. He wanted nothing more than to return to his bed, crawl under the covers and wait until everything simply went away.

Lucien looked at him and smiled sadly. ‘I imagine that you are feeling very frightened and confused right now. And that you are looking for some answers to the things that have happened to you since, and during, last night.’

‘And you can provide those answers?’

‘A great many of them, yes. You see, I know—’

Trey exploded, ‘Don’t say you know how I feel! Right now you have no idea how I feel. You don’t know anything about me.’

Lucien looked up at Trey with a look of genuine concern. He glanced at the clock on the wall above the door and, making his mind up about something, nodded at the boy.

‘You’re right, of course,’ he said. He paused before continuing cautiously. ‘However, not all of what you have said is correct. You and I have indeed met before, but you were a very small child and would not remember the encounter.’ He placed his hands upon his knees and leaned forward slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and clear, but filled with a passion that had hitherto been absent.

‘You see, I knew your mother and father. Indeed, we were great friends – your father and I worked together for a long time. It was important, perilous work of the kind that forges eternal bonds between people. When you were born, your father rightly decided that he could no longer continue with our work and we drifted apart for a while. I visited your parents when you were three years old and I had never seen the two of them so happy. My fear was that my presence would inevitably blight that happiness, and as I have said, I was too fond of your father to allow that to happen. So I vowed that I would not interfere with their lives again. I kept that promise as best I could, asking for your father’s help only in cases of extreme need.’

He paused, considering how to continue. ‘For the happiness that they knew during those early years of your life, I am forever grateful that I maintained my distance, but I earnestly believe that had I not put such a distance between us, they might still be alive today. I feel somewhat responsible for their deaths, and even more responsible for your safety. That is what I am doing here today, Trey. Please believe me when I say that I have kept a constant vigil over your welfare, and that I would not have hesitated to become involved in your life earlier had there been any signs that you were in imminent danger.’

He stood up now and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. ‘But what happened last night has changed everything. You are now in the danger that I have just alluded to, and I am here to keep you from harm.’

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Trey said.

‘I know. But we are running out of time. Our odious little friend Mr Wallington will be back very shortly, and then there will be no way for me to protect you and to tell you all of the things that you really have to know about yourself and the dangers that you are in.

‘I want you to have something.’ Lucien reached into his trouser pocket and opened his hand, revealing a silver chain and pendant. Picking up the chain, he held it up so that Trey could see it properly. The chain was very long, so that, as tall as he was, Lucien still had to hold the end high above the boy’s head in order that he could see the ornament hanging from the bottom links.

The pendant was actually a small silver clenched fist. Trey reached up to hold it so that he could examine it more closely.

‘What is this?’ he asked.

‘It was your father’s. He would have wanted you to have it. And to wear it. Please, allow me.’ Lucien leaned forward and placed the chain around Trey’s neck. He stood back, smiling at what he saw.

Trey looked down at the chain hanging down the outside of his T-shirt. He’d never worn any jewellery, and it felt heavy and odd to him. The pendant seemed to be hanging too far down; resting just above his navel.

‘Why is it so long?’ he asked, toying with the silver amulet.

‘Because it needs to be. You don’t want it coming off . . .
ever
.’ Lucien’s gaze was unnerving, as if trying to drill home the significance of this last statement.

‘Now, I suggest that you tuck it into your T-shirt and try to forget about it for a while.’ He reached for his umbrella and glanced at the expensive-looking watch hidden behind the folds of his cufflinked sleeves.

‘Trey, I must ask you something that is the key to what will happen next. It is a simple question, but, like all questions of that type, requires a deep and clearly considered response. Know that your answer will have a profound effect on your life from now on and that dire consequences may result if you make the wrong choice.’ He stopped to look over Trey’s shoulder at the door and seemed to be listening for something.

‘What are you—’

‘Shh,’ Lucien cut him off with a raised hand, and then, seemingly happy with whatever it was that he had discovered, switched his attention back to the teenager.

Placing both hands on Trey’s shoulders, he looked down at the boy and spoke to him with the same intensity that he had when he had spoken of Trey’s parents.

‘Trey, we have no time left. As of last night, your life has changed forever. Things will happen to you that you cannot hope to deal with on your own, and because of these things you are in terrible danger.’ He stared into Trey’s eyes. ‘I need you to tell me something. Do you believe that you can trust me and that I am here to help you?’ he said.

Trey looked up at the stranger’s face, hoping to find some clue that could help him make sense of what was going on. He shook his head. He didn’t believe that the man had any intention of hurting him, and yet . . .

Sensing his apprehension, Lucien bent forward until his face was on the same level as Trey’s. ‘Your father loved you very much, Trey. Whether he had some inkling of what was to become of him, I don’t know, but shortly before he died he asked me to promise to do something if anything should happen to him.’ Lucien smiled sadly. ‘Do you remember the nickname that your father had for you when you were a child, Trey?’

‘Yes. He used to call me Little Loop. My grandmother told me.’

A flicker of confusion crossed Lucien’s face, but was instantly replaced by a broad smile as he took in what Trey had said.

‘Little Loop. That’s very good. It’s lost a little in translation though.’

‘Lucien, what has all this got to do with—’

‘“Protège mon petit loup” – those were the words that your father said to me that evening. He told me that if anything should happen to him, I was to protect his . . . little loop. And I agreed that I would. That is why I am here tonight, Trey: to keep a promise that I made to your father that night all those years ago. So I have to ask you again, do you trust me? Are you willing to place your life in my hands, knowing that I will allow no harm to come to you while there is an ounce of strength left in my body?’

Trey’s hand involuntarily felt for the small silver fist beneath his T-shirt and his fingers closed around the hard, solid shape. He looked at this stranger and considered everything that he had told him so far that day. He did believe that Lucien was there to help him in some way, and there was no doubting that the man seemed to sincerely believe that Trey was in some terrible danger. But it seemed an impossible question to answer. He needed more time. Everything was happening too quickly.

Lucien gently squeezed the top of his shoulders, urging a response from him. ‘Please, Trey. We do not have much time left. There are . . . forces at work that spell great danger for you. Even as we speak they are moving against us. Will you trust me and let me help you as I promised?’

‘Yes, Lucien. I do believe that you are here to help me and I do trust you. But—’

‘Good man . . . and thank you.’ He grabbed the boy’s arm and, gently lifting him to his feet, propelled him towards the door. ‘Come on, we are leaving this place. We need to go now, or the moment will be lost and I fear that another,
much
more unpleasant scene will ensue.’

They left the room, turning to their right, and hurried down the corridor away from the direction of the kitchen.

Trey’s mind was a mess of tumbling thoughts and emotions. One second he’d been sitting listening to Lucien telling him things about his parents, the next he was being physically propelled through the corridors of the care home as if his very life depended on it.

‘The front door is the other way,’ Trey said, glancing over his shoulder.

‘Indeed it is, but the emergency exit is this way.’ Lucien was walking extremely quickly, and his long legs made it impossible for Trey to keep up without jogging along beside him. He was still being steered by Lucien’s firm grip on his upper arm, and he felt an urge to break free and run back to the safety of the home.

Sensing the boy’s apprehension, Lucien released his grip on Trey’s arm. ‘Almost there,’ he said in a hushed tone.

They turned left into a short corridor and approached the emergency exit at the back of the building. Trey could see that the electric wire linking the push-bar mechanism to the alarm had been cut, its two ends dangling beneath the machinery.

Lucien slowed slightly and, reaching into his top pocket, pulled out his sunglasses and placed them over his eyes. With his other hand he reached down to the umbrella that he was still carrying and released the pop-stud that had been keeping the material neatly twisted around the stem.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Trey incredulously. ‘It isn’t raining outside, Lucien.’

‘I’m afraid that I have a rather rare skin complaint that does not allow me to come into direct contact with sunlight. It really is rather irksome, but if I don’t take the necessary precautions, I’m afraid that the results are somewhat unpleasant.’ Kicking the push bar of the door with his left foot, he opened up the umbrella, ducked under its shade and exited the building all in one swift movement.

Parked six feet away was a jet-black Lexus. With its heavily tinted, almost black, windows, Trey thought that it looked like some giant malevolent beetle just waiting to leap upon any unsuspecting victim that was foolish enough to roam too close to its waiting maw.

Lucien, who had kept the hand not carrying the umbrella firmly in his pocket since they had emerged from the building’s interior, had depressed the key fob as they approached; the
chee-chook
sound of the alarm deactivating was followed by a satisfying clunk of the door locks being released.