The Carbon Trail (6 page)

Chapter Ten

Friday. 5 p.m.

Pereira dragged herself from her day-dream and focused on the tall figure of Jeff Mitchell leaving Scrabo Tower. She watched as he squinted down the street, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun then checked his watch as a stream of cars pulled up to the kerb and slipped away again, full of suited husbands and wives. The Lexus that Mitchell had been waiting for finally arrived and Pereira reached forward, tapping the car speaker until it crackled into life. “Car two, come in.” The crackles said that someone was at the other end.

“Target approaching the car. Any instructions?”

There was a moment’s silence when Pereira thought they hadn’t heard then it was broken by a clear male voice. She smiled to herself; Richie. His accent was unmistakable, as was the way he twisted the letter ‘Y’, making it a word all on its own.

“Yo. Stand down. I have eyes on. I’ll take it from here.” Then another moment’s silence, broken by a grudging “Have a good weekend.”

Pereira went to return the wish then stopped herself. Richie would be spending his weekend alone and that was her fault, no matter how she tried to dress it up. She swallowed hard, hard enough for him to hear it on the other end and read her thoughts. Neither of them spoke for a moment, then the receiver crackled again and he signed off, putting a full stop to their unspoken words.

***

Saturday. 9 a.m.

Mitchell had managed to get through Friday night without revealing the extent of his memory loss. It was helped by his genuine end-of-the-week fatigue and Karen’s allowances for it. He’d wanted to do nothing more exciting than slump on the couch and watch the game, so she’d sat in the chair beside him surfing the net while Emmie played at their feet, until her bedtime had taken her and Karen away.

Mitchell had watched the screen without seeing it, trying to make sense of the previous two days. Finally he’d given up and devised a strategy to cope with the weekend. It comprised five words; keep busy and don’t talk. Now it was Saturday morning and he was planning to do just that.

Karen handed him a fresh cup of coffee. “Honey, I’ll do the grocery shopping after breakfast.”

Mitchell smiled at his wife and shook his head. “Not today you won’t. We’ll do it together tomorrow.”

Karen shot him a questioning look as she poured-out Emmie’s milk and Mitchell elaborated.

“Today we’re taking Emmie to Boomers Amusement Park and then to the County Fair.”

Karen’s mouth fell open and Emmie jumped up and down in excitement, knocking over her milk. Karen watched as Mitchell mopped it up quickly then lifted Emmie from her seat and threw her giggling into the air, as she squealed “Boomers, Boomers” again and again.

Karen couldn’t believe her ears. Jeff had a routine at the weekends and nothing and no-one could change it. Friday nights were spent winding down and watching the game, just like the night before, but where he normally insisted that Emmie was in bed by seven, last night she’d played at his feet and climbed all over him until nearly ten o’clock. Saturdays and Sundays saw her doing the shopping alone while Jeff read a book in his study, or caught up on the scientific journals that he’d missed reading during the week. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood, they’d go out somewhere for Sunday lunch. If
he was in a good mood.

Jeff’s plans for today were unprecedented! Emmie was three-years-old and in all that time her father had never offered to spend a Saturday somewhere just for her. Quick tears pricked at Karen’s eyes and she turned away before the others could see them fall. She wasn’t sure why she was crying at first, and then she realised; she was happy. She brushed the tears away and turned back to the family scene, then listened as Emmie gabbled excitedly about all the amazing things she would do that day.

***

Richie spent the day following the Mitchells from the fun-park to the County Fair and growing more incredulous by the hour. He’d been tailing Jeff Mitchell for nine months and in all that time he’d never seen him give a damn about his wife and kid, never mind spend time somewhere that they might enjoy.

Richie parked the sedan and followed the small group at a distance, sure that at any moment Mitchell would meet someone to pass on information to. But there was no-one, not unless a giant clown was a spy.

By six o’clock Richie’s suspicions had almost gone. Mitchell was just being a Dad, and a good one at that, judging by the happy little girl asleep in his arms and the smiling wife by his side. The change made Richie uneasy in the way change always did. He walked back to the car and radioed Magee with a request that took his boss aback.

“There’s something going on here, sir. I want to stay on Mitchell all weekend.”

Magee was firm. “Impossible. You need some sleep.”

Richie nodded to himself then varied his request. “OK. Then how about if I do nine to twenty-one hundred and someone else does the rest? Just today and tomorrow?”

“Why?”

“There’s something up. Mitchell’s behaving totally out of character. In a good way, but still, something feels off.”

Magee thought for a moment and then nodded to himself. Richie was a good agent. If he felt there was something up then there probably was.

“OK. Nine to nine today and tomorrow and keep the recordings from the house. Let’s see what Dr Mitchell’s playing at now.”

***

By Sunday afternoon Richie was even more confused. Mitchell was cutting the grass like a regular family guy. He was pushing a mower around while Emmie sat making flower chains at his feet. The picture was so idyllic that Richie almost wanted to take a photo. Judging by the way his wife was hugging Mitchell, things were good in the bedroom as well.

Karen pushed her hair back behind her ear and knelt down at the edge of the grass, tidying the flower bed with a trowel. She smiled, remembering the day before. It had been wonderful from the moment they’d woken-up to the hours they’d made love for that night. She’d never seen Emmie so happy. Jeff had taken her on every fun-park ride, long after she had said stop, and Emmie had gone to bed tired and covered in candy floss, refusing her bath because she wanted to smell it in her sleep.

They’d walked back downstairs together after tucking her in and Jeff had poured them both a drink. He’d put on one of the romantic CDs she’d bought hopefully over the years, but never played, then he’d taken her hand and held her close as they danced slowly to the sound of Adele. He’d undressed her there in the living room and made love to her. Tenderly and intensely, as if he was willing her to look deep into his soul and see what was there. Karen had, and they’d connected like never before, until they’d fallen asleep on the rug to be woken by the morning light.

Karen smiled at the memory and glanced shyly towards her husband as he cut the grass. He smiled back as Richie watched them, recognising the look. Yes, it said sex, but it said far more than that. Mitchell’s smile promised to love his wife and take care of her until he died. Richie felt a sharp pang of jealously. He pushed it away quickly. Karen Mitchell deserved some happiness; his instinct told him she’d had little enough of it in the past few years.

By Sunday night Emmie was exhausted, the grass was cut and they had a weekend of happy memories that would take a long time to fade. Karen cuddled up to her husband on the couch, trying to push away her growing concerns about his vagueness. Jeff couldn’t seem to remember even the big events that they experienced together. She hadn’t been testing him, but when Emmie had asked that morning about where and when she was born he couldn’t recall the hospital or even the date. Karen had been gripped by fear as she watched her husband struggle to remember, then laugh and say “you’ve always been here, honey.”

It had satisfied Emmie but sent a shiver of fear down her spine and she’d made up her mind to remake the clinic appointment soon. There would turn out to be nothing wrong, she was sure of it, but she needed to hear a medical expert confirm her view.

Karen Mitchell hugged her husband hard then leaned up and kissed his cheek as he smiled at her, amused. She turned back to the movie to enjoy what she had, while she still had the time.

Chapter Eleven

Monday morning came much too fast and with it the early morning routine of families all across the state. The weekend’s slow touches were lost in a clamour of showers and oatmeal, lost sneakers and hair ribbons. Until finally at seven-thirty the front door slammed behind them and Emmie was strapped in her car-seat. The click of seat-belts and the bright flash of the indicator woke Claude Brunet from his daydream. He yawned as he watched the Lexus pull out, counting to five before following it down the suburban street.

Karen indicated left and smiled brightly at her husband as she turned. Her outward grin was matched by a bubble of joy in her heart. She knew it was love. No. It was ‘in love’. She was in love with Jeff again, after ten years of marriage and six of limbo. She didn’t know why he’d changed when he’d joined Scrabo in 2008, but he had. It had been subtle at first, and in small ways. He stopped smiling at waiters, after usually exchanging a friendly word. He’d become sullen and secretive, sneaking off to take calls late at night. She’d been afraid to ask who he was speaking to, in case he had a lover and left her alone. Then his sullenness had changed to open aggression, snarling when a meal was five minutes late or one minute overcooked. He’d stopped holding her hand and listening to her day, always somewhere else in the distance. She didn’t mind for herself, but Emmie’s hurt eyes when her father pushed her away had been hard to bear.

When the forgetfulness had started the year before she’d grasped at it as a reason for the man that Jeff had become. A guide to all his meanness. This wasn’t the Jeff she’d married. He’d been fit and lean, just out of the military, back from Iraq. Never soft or indulgent, but brilliant and funny. Exciting, and always hers. This Jeff was angry and cruel.

And now? Something was different again. He looked the same; still handsome, still tanned, still fit and tall, but he’d changed in the past few days. Still forgetful, even lost sometimes, but loving, oh so loving. The weekend had been like a second honeymoon, except that this time his love had extended to Emmie, even to the waiters again. Karen didn’t know what had happened or why, but it felt like the man she’d married had returned, except much much nicer than he’d ever been.

***

Brunet watched as Mitchell disembarked and headed into Scrabo Tower then he radioed in his location and settled down for another boring watch. He clicked on the radio but a Springsteen CD started to play instead, against regulations. Richie. Brunet shrugged. Whoever had written the regs had never spent twelve hours cooped-up in a car.

After three tracks Brunet unclipped his seatbelt and pushed open the car door, stepping onto West Street to stretch his legs. A sea of people in suits washed past him and his eyes locked on the women. Manhattan certainly had some beauties. Sex and the City hadn’t done them justice. Women of all colours and ages strode past, all of them rushing somewhere else. Pink suits with sneakers, a pair of heels in their bag for when they reached work. A blue suit with dark pumps; blond hair flowing straight and gleaming down a slim back. Brunet was so distracted that he almost missed Jeff Mitchell re-emerging from Scrabo Tower fifteen minutes after his wife had dropped him there. Brunet jumped hurriedly into the car and grabbed at the speaker mike.

“Mitchell’s on the move. I’m in pursuit.”

He pulled the sedan into the morning traffic, keeping his quarry in sight. Claude Brunet completely missed the fact that he was being watched as well.

***

Mitchell had no idea why he’d suddenly decided to get some air. Or why his feet were carrying him down Laight Street and through the alleys again, deep into Manhattan’s heart. It was as if he was following some instinct that the scientist in him didn’t understand. After five minutes he entered Regan Plaza and found himself standing once more outside the small café. A sharp tapping noise made him turn quickly, poised to fight or flee. Mitchell held his breath, scanning the deserted square, until a sparrow pecking water from a trash-can explained the clicks he’d heard. He exhaled noisily and smiled at his own reflexes. He had no idea where they’d come from. He’d been in the military, sure, but he somehow doubted that the medical corps had majored in martial arts. A final sweep of the square revealed nothing but the bird, so Mitchell pushed open the café’s door and went inside.

Daria Kaverin was standing by the old-fashioned till, counting her meagre takings. She smiled brightly as Mitchell entered, offering him some tea. He declined, saying he would take some later then he walked unhesitatingly towards the door that she’d waved at the week before, growing more certain by the moment about what he would find lying behind.

Brunet slipped into an alley across from the café, grateful for the bird’s thirst covering his steps. He tapped once on his lapel mike, signalling that he’d reached his location and the message from Magee came back loud and clear. Watch and wait; nothing else. Mitchell was more useful to them free right now. Magee wasn’t certain what he was up to yet and action couldn’t be based on vague suspicion. They would only get one shot at Mitchell leading them to his bosses, and finding out what
they
were planning was the Holy Grail.

Brunet’s eyes locked on the café’s small door and he prepared to wait for as long as it took. He didn’t see the sudden movement behind him, but he felt the blade slicing through his skin. It slipped between his vertebrae and severed the spinal cord without a sound. A moment’s searing pain was followed quickly by a gasping death, his last breath freezing in early morning air.

Claude Brunet’s last fall was slowed by a woman’s bloodied hand, as she lowered him silently onto the urban ground. Elza stripped off her latex gloves and walked away without a backward glance and as Brunet breathed his last, Jeff Mitchell slipped deeper into a world of betrayal and lies.