Secrets (18 page)

‘We need to talk,' the message said. There was no name, but then, Bud thought, there didn't have to be.

‘Where and when?' he texted back and then repacked the few possessions he had with him. Within an hour he was headed south again.

DI Barnes arrived at the hotel in time for breakfast. He had a selection of morning papers with him, which he dropped on the table beside Alec's plate.

‘Developments,' he said. ‘And yes, I will have some breakfast today, I think I'm going to need it, and then I want you to come with me to see Molly Chambers.'

Alec groaned. ‘Oh, God, what now?'

‘Have you seen the news today? Take a look. Front page of these two and page three inside. No, not that page three.'

‘Thanks for that,' Alec said.

Naomi heard the sound of paper rustling and pages being turned. ‘What's it about?' she asked. ‘Alec, where's my knife gone? And can someone pass me the butter, please.'

‘That warehouse robbery,' Alec said. ‘All that stuff about the van. We heard it on the news this morning. What's it got to do with Molly?'

‘Butter's there,' DI Barnes placed it beside Naomi's hand, reminding her of Gregory the night before and how carefully he had set her glass down. ‘I don't see a knife.'

Alec passed it to her. ‘Molly?' he said.

‘Ah, well it's this. One locker seems to have been broken into and the rental is in the name of—'

‘Molly Chambers,' Alec guessed.

‘Well, strictly speaking, Molly and Edward Chambers. But yes. I've been asked to talk to her on behalf of the investigating team, but no doubt they'll be wanting a word later.'

‘No doubt,' Naomi said dryly. ‘Do we know what was taken?'

‘Not sure. The security guard thinks it's a box missing. The lockers are really just glorified cages, with a bit of thin wall in between. It's a cheap and rather tacky set-up, done to maximize the number of lockers they can fit into the space and put together as cheaply as they could get away with. That's about all I know as yet. They want me to take Molly over there to examine the contents, tell us what's gone, so I'd like you to come along.'

‘You afraid of one defenceless old lady?' Naomi asked.

‘Defenceless old ladies don't bother me, no. Molly Chambers is something else.'

Naomi laughed. ‘True. What about the two men in the van, do we know who they are?'

‘Well, yes and no. We know who they are supposed to be, but there are complications, it seems. Identification on the victims suggests that they are Gilligan and Hayes, from a firm of financial consultants of the same name. There was apparently a Bern, but he seems to have retired and the name had been dropped.'

‘Joseph Bern?' Alec said.

Instinctively, Naomi wished he hadn't.

‘Yes. Why? Do you know him?'

‘I've heard the name.' Alec said. She could hear that he regretted it too. He tried to backtrack. ‘It's an unusual name. It stuck in my head.'

Barnes waited for Alec to elaborate and when he did not he said, ‘So we collect Molly Chambers, take her out to the warehouse and find out what she had stored there. See what it was that almost cost a man his life. The security guard is still in a very bad way.'

Guiltily, Naomi realized she had forgotten about the man who'd been injured in the raid. ‘Will he be OK, do they think?'

‘Too soon to tell. Tell me, where did you hear of Joseph Bern?'

‘Molly might have mentioned the name,' Alec said. ‘I don't remember.'

Naomi could feel Barnes staring at her husband. Alec was such an appallingly bad liar. ‘And why do you think Gilligan and Hayes might not be, if you see what I mean?'

Reluctantly, Barnes allowed himself to be diverted. ‘Because we found a number of other identities in their safe,' he said. ‘Passports, bank cards, driving licences.'

‘Theirs. Or were they dealing?' Alec asked.

‘I've not been told. The search is still ongoing. I've a feeling it might be a long day, Alec.'

‘I've not agreed to go with you yet.'

Barnes seemed nonplussed by that. ‘No,' he agreed. ‘I'm presuming. Sorry. But I'd be grateful if you would. I don't think Mrs Chambers is going to cooperate just because I want her to.'

‘Or because I do,' Alec added. ‘But I'll come and talk to her. And if she agrees then I'll come with you to the warehouse, but I'm not going to commit further than that. I left the job, remember. I didn't resign just so I could be the unpaid help.'

Naomi raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for Alec to be so acerbic. It was a sign of the strain he was under. She knew he hadn't slept well the night before. The conversation with Gregory had disturbed him, even though Naomi could not think of anything specific that had been said to be so upsetting. He had left them soon after telling them a little about the child but Naomi was still hazy about the details. Apparently a translator Edward had worked with had been murdered and Edward had assumed responsibility for the man's son.

Then Gregory had left and they had learnt no more.

‘His name was Adis,' Gregory had told them. ‘He was named after his father. I know very little about him apart from the fact that Clay must have facilitated the process, helped get him false papers, that sort of thing.'

‘Why would he do that?'

Gregory shrugged. ‘It's always useful to have leverage,' he said, ‘even over those on the same side as you are. But I know that Adis was not the last child Edward and Molly rescued, or the only secrets they kept.'

Annie had left Bob in the studio and walked down to the village shop, taking the dogs with her. She was unsurprised to see Nathan walking up the lane towards her.

‘I called you at home,' he said. ‘Bob told me where to find you.'

‘You called the landline?'

‘I brought you this.' He held out a new mobile phone. Annie took it.

‘Trouble?'

‘I don't think Clay has been able to access your home phone. I think the security on that is still good, but I don't want him logging our calls. If you need me urgently, text the number in that phone. It isn't registered and I've changed the sim card anyway.'

He fell into step beside her. ‘How's Bob?'

‘Well, excited about the exhibition. But I'm worried, Nathan. Clay is—'

‘I won't let anything happen to Bob, I promise you. I've called in some reinforcements, nothing Bob will be aware of, but—'

‘How bad is this getting?'

Nathan shrugged. ‘I'm not sure. You heard about Hayes and Gilligan. That they died?'

‘On the news. Yes.'

‘But you won't have heard about Joseph.'

‘Joseph? He's gone then?'

‘Early hours of the morning. Inevitable.'

‘I'm sorry. Sort of. I liked Joseph Bern. Will you go to the funeral?'

‘I don't think so. Clay wants me to check on the house.'

‘And will you?'

Nathan shrugged. ‘I'll go. Frankly, I don't think Clay knows what he wants to find anyway.'

‘He's losing it,' Annie said.

Nathan shook his head. The dark curls bounced against his forehead. ‘He's gone beyond that,' he said.

M
olly welcomed them with her usual asperity and very reluctantly agreed to go with them to the warehouse.

‘I'll go,' she said, ‘but I need a favour in return.'

‘You aren't doing us a favour, Molly. This is part of a murder investigation.'

Molly continued as though he hadn't spoken. ‘An old friend of mine died last night. I'll be needing a lift to the funeral. You'll do that for me?'

‘Of course I will, Molly.'

‘Then I'll get my coat and bag and I'll come with you.'

They waited in the hall while she went upstairs. Alec heard her moving about, first in her own room and then in the spare bedroom at the back of the house. There was a sound as though she'd dragged something across the floor and when she finally emerged, a navy blazer and pale blue scarf added to her attire, she was carrying not just her handbag but some kind of document case as well. He looked at it pointedly.

‘Something I might want to read on the way,' she told him and then turned to DI Barnes. ‘Are we ready, then? If we're going to be gone all day then we will have to stop for lunch somewhere. I'm not good at missing meals these days. I think I did far too much of that back in my youth and my body is now punishing me for it.'

‘I'm sure we can manage lunch,' Barnes told her.

Molly led the way out of the front door and the two men exchanged puzzled glances. Alec shrugged. Molly was a mystery even under ordinary circumstances.

‘So, who died?' Alec asked as he, quite unnecessarily, helped her into the front seat of the car.

‘An old friend,' Molly said. ‘He had cancer. The doctors did what they could but finally death was inevitable.'

‘And does this old friend have a name?'

Molly fixed him with a cool grey gaze. ‘His name was Joseph Bern,' she said. ‘And I knew him for a very, very long time.'

Sitting in the detective's car, Molly turned her mind to Joseph. The news of his death, even though expected, had still hit her hard. Another one gone. Adam Carmodie had introduced them to Joseph, but she and Edward had quickly come to realize that he had been part of their disparate network for far longer. Another spider spinning an overlapping web.

Molly closed her eyes, remembering the night they had left Leopoldville. The streets had been filled with armed gangs of men and women, even children. Molly was still unsure of what had been happening or what the people were protesting against on that particular occasion. She had witnessed such street violence on several occasions in the previous weeks, but this time … this time there seemed more vehemence to it. A deeper level of resentment and anger.

It had all gone south so unexpectedly, she thought, and become so unutterably brutally. Rumour and counter rumour …

She had been at a birthday party, one of the interpreters' children. Adis, the interpreter, and little Adis – the birthday celebrant had been driving her back home. Edward had left earlier, called to yet another bloody strategy meeting, and Molly had stayed on, chatting with the other women, watching the children run and play in the tangle of a garden. It had been an almost idyllic afternoon, but those moments, Molly had long since learnt, are never destined to last. She had learnt to grasp them, hold on to them, like the jewels they were, bright treasures in a sea of utter darkness, but back then, she had been a mere novice; it had never occurred to her that such a perfect afternoon could be so utterly shattered.

Later, sitting in the front seat of Adis's rickety old truck, little Adis in the back, half asleep on a pile of sacks and blankets, driving through the almost empty streets towards their home, Molly could recall that sleepy, slightly tipsy sense of well-being that came from an afternoon of sunshine, laughter and good company.

They had turned a corner back onto the one of the main thoroughfares and the scene changed, utterly …

‘My god,' Molly had said. ‘Adis, what's going on?'

‘Get out,' Adis said softly. ‘Quickly, before they see you. Get Adis and hide.'

‘What?'

‘Now, Molly, please.' He turned to look at her and she was horrified by the fear in his eyes. ‘Protect my son.'

She didn't argue after that. Silently, she slid out from the passenger seat and ran around to the back. Little Adis, puzzled as to why they had stopped, was trying to see over the top of the cab. ‘Come quickly,' she told him. ‘Come with me, now.'

To her relief, the boy asked no questions, but just scrambled down, into her arms. Molly backed away, looking around for a place to hide. She could hear the crowd, closer now, oddly silent, just the sound of feet and the chink of metal and, though afterwards she dismissed it as pure fancy, it seemed to her that she could feel them too, like a wave of heat and hate breaking over the truck and Adis and her.

‘Hush,' she breathed. She backed into a shop doorway, praying it would be unlocked and praying harder that there would be no one inside. Pushed little Adis behind one of the wooden counters and hastily pulled boxes and crates to hide him. ‘Stay there and don't make a sound.'

She could see the boy's eyes, wide and fearful, but he crouched low, kept silent. Molly wondered then and she wondered now at how this little boy came to be so well trained. Had his father drilled him for just such an occasion? Had he learnt how to hide and be quiet at the same time as he had learned to speak, to read, to run?

She could hear voices now, coming from outside. She crept to the window, peered fearfully outside. Her friend, Adis, was now out of the cab, the interpreter speaking to the crowd, his voice reasonable and calm even though he was surrounded by men armed with machetes and knives. They crowded in on him, backing him up against the side of the truck. Molly could see they were not interested in his words.

‘Oh, God,' Molly breathed. ‘Oh, my good God.'

She glanced towards the counter under which she had concealed the child and then at the rear of the shop, wondering if there was another way out. When she looked back at the street, she saw that a man had climbed into the back of the truck. He was throwing the sacks and blankets to the ground as though searching for something. She could hear Adis's voice, all sense of calm now abandoned. She knew that he was begging for his life. And she knew that he hadn't a hope in hell.

Even in the present moment, Molly could still see so clearly the way the blade caught the light, the way the man in the truck brought the machete down to cleave into the head of her friend. She saw Adis fall, saw the men surrounding him raise their weapons, saw the first assailant leap down from the truck and knew if she was going to keep the boy safe then she would have to act now. To run before their attention turned on her hiding place.