The Man Who Sold His Son (Lanarkshire Strays) (11 page)

18

A week had passed since Sarah had noticed the pretty dark-haired pursuer. Having been on edge since the encounter, Sarah’s failure to find any trace of her, or anyone else who might be following her, allowed her to finally relax, at least a little.

“Mum. Mum!”

Sarah still wasn’t used to the deepness in her son’s voice, or his height, or how much he looked like his father. In the last eighteen months her little boy had vanished to be replaced by a broadly-built, sun-kissed young man. Standing at almost his father’s height, Tommy now towered over his mother. When they walked along the streets together, he was often mistaken for her husband simply because he looked like a man now. Their hearts broke every time this happened, the realisation of the years that had passed smacking them full force.

“Mum,” he called over once more, pointing at a nearby vendor. “You want some roast chestnuts?” Tommy held his own cup of freshly-cooked nuts aloft and gave it a waggle to tempt her.

Sarah beamed across at him and gave him a thumbs-up.

As she watched her son chat happily to the vendor, a hundred mannerisms and habits he’d inherited from his father showed themselves in every gesture.

His easy manner and confidence in talking to people and the way he made people smile. His generosity towards everyone he met. The quiet, restrained strength and assurance he practically emanated. Tommy was a carbon copy of his father and of his great-grandfather. It simultaneously stabbed at her and bathed her in sunshine to see him so like the men she loved.

Alex’s mother, Patricia, was due to arrive via The Tubes that afternoon. She and Tommy were taking a long holiday together. Having completed his school semester for the Christmas break, Tommy had agreed to take a two-week break with his grandmother. They would travel to Canada together to visit her twin sister, whom Patricia hadn’t seen in a decade. Sarah would be using the time to touch base with her team of private investigators in the faint hope that one of them might actually have made a modicum of progress.

“Here you are, Mum.” Tommy handed her a cup full of satisfyingly warm chestnuts.

“Thanks, son. Shall we make our way along to The Tubes depot and meet Gran?”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. They always did when Patricia was mentioned. She, and old Tom of course, were the closest thing to having his father around that he had. Tommy soaked up every word from both of them and gave them his admiration and time guilessly. He was a child again in their presence – in spirit, at any rate, if not in body.

“Yeah,” he beamed. “Can’t wait to see her. Let’s go, Mum.”

Pulling his mother along behind him by the hand, Tommy zigzagged his way through the other pedestrians, using the old-fashioned Metro sign that stood over The Tubes depot entrance as a guide. Tommy knew the central Paris streets as well as she did, probably better, and had them to the entrance quickly. They found Patricia already waiting at the top of the stairs, waving over at Tommy.

Watching her son sprint towards his grandmother, she laughed as Tommy picked his little gran up in a bear hug. Lifting her up to his face, he kissed her softly on the lips and laughed at her complaints.

Sarah gave them a few moments together and stood watching the pure, genuine love passing between them. Tommy shared a love with his grandmother that he shared with no one else. Kids were like that: they had wee special moments and needs and different shapes and colours of love for the various people who loved them. Tommy and his older namesake often huddled close, laughing raucously at private jokes that she never asked about. Sarah and Tommy had quiet moments together where nobody spoke. They sat and held each other against the chill of Alex’s loss. He and Alex had had something unique, something undefinable and truly lost to them. Patricia made Tommy the absolute centre of her world. She took no nonsense from him, but the boy melted her. In return she filled a small portion of the gap his father had left.

Watching them love each other, Sarah held back the rising emotion and took her eyes away from them. She turned to see her very pretty, very dark-haired pursuer standing staring straight at her son.

Sarah buried her anger at being violated by the woman’s presence and walked as casually as she could manage towards her family. After greeting her mother-in-law with genuine warmth, but a thin smile, she turned to Tommy.

“Why don’t you take Gran to your favourite coffee shop?”

Patricia pulled absent-mindedly at her suitcase which Tommy had lifted for her.

“Oh, a coffee would be nice.” She tugged again at her case, causing Tommy to pull in the opposite direction.

“Gran, I’ll take it,” he complained.

Sarah forced her smile a little wider. “He’s a big lump, Trisha. Put him to good use.”

Patricia let go of the handle she’d had a death grip on.

“Fine,” she smiled. “Let’s go get that coffee then.”

Sarah patted her pocket.

“There’s my Comm vibrating. Look, I’ll take this call over there.” She pointed at a row of benches at the other side of the little square they were standing in.

“Tommy, you go ahead and get comfortable.
Order me a café crème.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed: he clearly saw through the pained smile his mother wore but did as she asked and led his gran off towards the café.

As soon as they disappeared from view, Sarah spun around and marched straight towards the woman who’d been stalking her family. The woman hadn’t made any move towards Tommy or herself, but her mere presence here, watching them, was enough to tip Sarah from concern to anger. The rage she’d supressed earlier roared inside her, growing with each step she took.
How dare she?

Sarah grabbed one of the woman’s lapels and pulled her towards herself. Glaring into her eyes, she demanded. “What the fuck do you want with my family, you bitch?”

The woman, much younger and much prettier close up than she’d seemed from a distance, didn’t resist; in fact, she looked frightened. A few people glanced in their direction without stopping, but their attention made Sarah back off from the woman a few inches and let go of her jacket. Slipping her arm around the woman’s waist, Sarah pulled her light frame towards herself and began walking. They looked like old friends strolling arm in arm.

“Start talking,” Sarah hissed.

The woman – girl, really; she was maybe ten years older than Tommy – began to cry and stumbled over one of her too-high heels, sending herself sprawling onto the cobbles.

 
“Oh for Chrissake!” Sarah spat, reaching for her arm to haul her back up onto her heels. “Take those bloody stupid heels off and move your arse.”

She gave the girl a second to slip her heels off then dragged her, barefoot, into the nearest alleyway. Pushing the smaller girl against the urine-stained alley wall, Sarah moved her face close to the girl’s and lowered her voice to a threatening whisper.

“Start talking.”

She did. Very quickly.

“I’m sorry. I was just looking at your son…”

Sarah’s fist slammed into the girl’s cheek, sending her head ricocheting off the wall. Sarah grabbed her by the throat and pressed her body up close.

“Why?” Sarah snarled. Releasing her grip, she gave the girl a moment to compose herself.

“Do you work for Ennis?” Sarah asked quietly, glaring at the smaller girl.

She started to cry again and nodded her head. “I did, but not anymore,” the girl sobbed.

Sarah feared the anger inside her was likely to explode and incinerate everything in the alley. She threw herself away from the girl and paced back and forth, cutting off the alley, trying desperately to calm herself enough to get some answers from the girl instead of doing what her anger wanted her to do.

Still pacing, Sarah said, “Talk.”

Composing herself as best she could, the young woman stemmed the tide of tears and said, “I recognised your son, Tommy.”

“From photos?” Sarah asked.

The girl looked puzzled. “No. I recognised him because he looks so much like his father.”

Sarah’s composure returned a little. “You know Alex?”

The girl shook her head. “I only met him once, five years ago on a flight to a remote island. He was the saddest person I’ve ever met. He looked more broken than I thought a person could be. I’ve never forgotten a single detail about him.”

“Why? Because Ennis sent you to find us?”

“No,” she replied, looking genuinely hurt. “Because despite the pain he was in, he took the time to be kind to me. He was barely holding it together himself, but he felt that he’d been rude to me and was worried that he’d hurt my feelings.”

She looked down at her feet, a look of shame crossing her face.

“Mostly, though, because I knew that I’d done something to help a very bad man hurt a very good one.”

Sarah scanned the girl’s face, looking for signs of deception that weren’t there.

“Why are you in Paris, then, if not for
him
?”

“I moved here last month, after I was let go by Synthi-Co. They gave me a generous redundancy package.” The girl looked down at herself and around the alley. “I’d always wanted to live in Paris.”

“Why are you following my family?”

The girl wiped her eyes dry with the back of her hands, sniffed deeply a few times and stood a little taller. “I recognised Tommy, so much like his dad.”

Sarah winced.

“When I saw Tommy, I knew straight away who he was. The guilt I’d felt for not helping your husband came rushing back. I felt… overwhelmed. I wanted to do something.”

Embarrassment flushed her face.

“I followed him for a while, saw him with you. I didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want to upset him, or you.”

Sarah watched her as she spoke, calming more with each passing moment in response to the girl’s obvious honesty. The kid was torn up; she was almost as upset as Sarah herself was.

 
She surprised Sarah by walking towards her and taking her by the hand.

“But I had to talk to you. I had to tell you that I think I know where your husband is, Mrs Kinsella.”

Sarah went through fifty different emotions in a second and all of them from the girl.

“What’s your name?” she asked with a sigh.

“I’m Natalie. Natalie Aleesa.”

Sarah gave a curt nod and grasped the girl’s hand a little more tightly.

“Okay, Natalie. Let’s go get a coffee and talk.”

After calling Thomas to let him know that she wouldn’t be joining them for a coffee and that he should take Gran to their apartment, Sarah had taken Natalie to a very quiet coffee shop in Saint Germain. She had been gently interrogating Natalie for half an hour.

The girl had been explaining her role in Ennis’s company, which initially had been as little more than a glorified air-stewardess. This surprised Sarah since Natalie was clearly far too bright to be working in this capacity. Sarah assumed, correctly as it turned out, that she’d taken the role as a first step into the company. Natalie had been attending night classes whilst in Ennis’s employment and had earned herself a job as Ennis’s Executive Assistant’s Assistant. She’d apparently been relieved when she’d recently been made redundant when her boss changed roles and the new Executive Assistant decided that he didn’t need her. Natalie had begun to grow uncomfortable with some of the communiqués that had crossed her desk.
   

“So you worked for three years as his personal air stewardess?”

Natalie nodded, sipping her coffee.

“What made the trip you took with Alex so different? Why did that particular trip stick with you so?”

Natalie thought for a second before answering. “Before that trip, I’d been in the job for around three months. Only Mr Ennis, or passengers who travelled with Mr Ennis, took trips on his personal shuttle. When Dr Kinsella turned up alone, and so very upset, it was… well, it was odd.”

Sarah nodded at her to continue.

Natalie described Alex with red-rimmed eyes, sagging shoulders and as fairly drunk during the flight.

“Not many people notice the stewardess on a private plane, Mrs Kinsella, aside from the odd remark about my rear.” Natalie smiled a little self-consciously. “In three years travelling the world with Mr Ennis, I never forgot your husband. His kindness, sadness and his status as a lone traveller ensured that. Of course, the destination was a little different to what I was used to also.”

Sarah wrapped her hands around her warm mug and sat in a little closer.

“We flew to a tiny private island in the East China Sea, one of the
Diaoyu Islands.”

Sarah had heard of the islands. Something she’d half-listened to in a school lesson about a political row between China and Japan over them. She gestured that Natalie should continue.

“Well, ownership of those islands has been in dispute for a very long time. Politically, they’ve always been a hot potato, but economically? Most people wouldn’t consider investing in the region, let alone base a business there. Aside from any concerns any potential investor may have, the ongoing political climate should certainly prevent any meaningful discussion taking place, simply because who has the right to govern these islands is unclear.”

Sarah nodded along. Natalie had clearly been intrigued enough by her trip to the island and her encounter with Alex to do a little research. She was starting to like the kid.

Natalie continued. “Mr Ennis didn’t go through any committees, or offer any incentives. He didn’t schmooze with politicians from either side. He merely told the World Government which island he wished to buy and broke ground on building his research complex there within the month.”

“He has a lot of money,” Sarah said, bitterly. “And a great deal of political influence.”

“Yes,” Natalie agreed. “But there’s more to it than that. Whilst I was working in his main office, a variety of documents crossed my desk. Some for typing, some for research or filing. Some for shredding. The nature of these documents varied hugely. Sometimes they contained details of huge deals, like the ones to and from the World Government regarding ownership of the island Mr Ennis procured. Other times they were a little more mundane. Occasionally, they could be quite disturbing.”

Natalie reached into her bag. Producing a document, she handed it to Sarah.

“He uses physical documents?” Sarah asked. Hardly anyone did anymore. Alex had complained frequently about how old fashioned the hospital’s bureaucracy had been.

“Yes. That one should have been shredded.” She raised an eyebrow. “Somehow it found its way into my briefcase.”

Sarah scanned the page. Headed with Ennis’ Synthi-Co logo, the document was titled:

Wild Type Project: Robertson/Kinsella

Sarah’s heart raced as she read the surname she hadn’t been able to use in five years. Her misted eyes darted back to the top of the document. It was dated a month previously.

She flicked her eyes back up to Natalie who nodded, acknowledging her shock. Natalie gestured to the document, indicating that Sarah should read on. Part of her almost didn’t want to.

FAO: Gavin Ennis, Ceo

From: Sebastian Fong, East China Division. Head of Special Services

As per our recent telephone conversation, I’ve shipped to you several key moments gathered from the security feed in the laboratory and from both Dr Kinsella’s and Professor Robertson’s domiciles.

As detailed in our conversation, it’s clear that Dr Kinsella has identified several key indicators of the presence of the G-ENN-0042 pathogen. As per your previous instructions, we’ve intensified the surveillance and would like to draw your attention to clip 34B in particular. This should reassure you that matters are as discussed and hopefully convince you that the proposed plan of action is indeed appropriate and of some urgency.

Dr Kinsella has, in addition to identifying the pathogen, unfortunately reported his findings to Professor Robertson. As yet, we do not believe that either of them has pursued the investigation any further.

They seem satisfied that, whilst the virus requires further study, it seems to be relatively harmless in the synthetically-conceived population. We’d expect that Professor Robertson will pass along their findings to you in the very near future and request permission to make the pathogen the primary focus of their research.

With this discovery in mind, the fact that they’ve completed ninety percent of the reprogramming of the Synthi-Sperm, and the resulting investigation, I believe they’ll initiate with or without your consent. I’d strongly urge the
retiral
option for both the Doctor and the Professor. I believe that a new team would be prudent at this time. I’d recommend that retiral protocol be initiated no later than January 1
^st
, 2061.

Yours sincerely,

Sebastian Fong

“This is for real?” Sarah asked, eyes filled with horror.

“Yes. It is,” Natalie said quietly.

Sarah stole a glance at the newspaper on the table between them, confirming the date she already knew. Her face changed suddenly. Cold, calm logic flooded through her brain in an icy surge. Natalie watched her eyes flicker as she ran through options, logistics, finances, contacts, likely outcomes. She ignored the thoughts that clawed to get to the fore:
He’s dead. You’re too late.

“We have ten days, maximum. If they haven’t already been ‘retired’.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs Kinsella. I had no idea what to do, who to talk to. When I saw you and Tommy a few days ago I should have just spoken to you.”

Sarah blinked herself back to the present, mind set on a course of action.

“Never mind that now. Can you give me the exact location of this island? The co-ordinates?”

Natalie nodded.
Good girl
, Sarah thought. She really had done her research.

“Okay. Give me your Comm access and go home, Natalie. I’ll call you when I get back to Paris. I’ve a trip to take.”

“You’d have to hire a private shuttle. It would cost millions, Mrs Kinsella, if you could even find a pilot with clearance to fly there.”

The coldness crept back over Sarah and she smiled bitterly. “Money won’t be an issue,” she said.

Sarah made it back to the family apartment ten minutes after leaving Natalie. Bursting through the door to their home, she went straight to the safe in her bedroom and yelled for Tom. The older man darted into her room, concern etched on his face.

“Has she turned up again?” he asked.

Sarah grabbed an untraceable Comm device and her passport, in the name of Sarah Fagan, from her safe as well as a small stun device Tom had acquired for her.

“Yes, but she’s not working for Ennis,” Sarah said spinning around. “She’s trying to help.”

Tom’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

“I know where Alex is, Tom. Can we call Rob? I need his contacts.”

Tom didn’t reply but slipped through to his little writing office and retrieved his Comm. Seconds later Rob was onscreen, listening to Sarah’s description of the afternoon’s events.

He asked a few curt questions, tapping away on a Holo-Screen just out of shot as he gleaned the information that he needed from Sarah.

Finally he said, “I can get you to a little airfield just outside Gongliao, North-East Taiwan, by private shuttle. From there I’ve a contact who can get you to your island by boat.”

Rob looked a little apprehensive, despite the efficiency with which he’d formulated a travel plan and coordinated several of his long-standing contacts in the intelligence community – none of whom had managed to find a trace of Alex, much to Robert’s disdain.

“Thanks so much, Rob. What’s the timescale?” Sarah asked.

Rob’s eyes flicked to the right, double-checking messages from men in his network of contacts and travel plans. Sarah could tell from his eyes that it wasn’t good news.

“Best I can do is leaving in twenty-four hours from London. You’ll be in Taiwan in three hours via suborbital. From the east coast of Taiwan, the only transport to the island that might have a chance of getting you there covertly is by freighter ship. I can arrange an escort for you. It’ll take two days, Sarah.”

Sarah mentally flicked through her options for a single second. “That’s fine, Rob. Thank you.” She was trying her best to be pragmatic, and doing a very good job despite the jackhammer pounding in her chest and the roar of fear in her gut.

She felt Tom take her hand.

“We’ll leave now, Robert. The sooner we get to London, the better.” Sarah turned to her husband’s grandfather. “Tom, I can’t let you do that. I need you here, with Tommy. Just in case.”

Tom shook his head once. “No argument. I’m coming.”

Tom turned back to the projection of his best friend.

“See you in London, Robert.”

Robert grinned. “Too fuckin’ right, pal.”

He flicked off the connection.

Sarah rounded on Tom. “How the hell am I supposed to do this worrying about two eighty-five year olds and finding my husband in God knows what situation?”

Tom waved off her objections. “You’re not going alone, hen. That’s that.”

“Tom, listen.”

He jabbed a finger into the air in her direction.

“Naw. You listen, I’m not exactly a fuckin’ infant, so don’t treat me like one. I’ve travelled to more countries than your generation ever had a hope of. I might be an old man in the mirror but I’m the same in here.” He turned his pointed finger to his own chest. “I’m the same in here as I ever was. He’s my grandson. I’m going.”