Catalyst (33 page)

The remainder of the room was at two-steps-higher level, and was chaotic by comparison, with numerous sofas, armchairs, and tables seemingly spread at random around the floor area. Bookshelves covered the whole of the back wall opposite the windows.

“I only remember him from those couple of visits as well,” said Jack. “Although he's my Godfather, isn't he? Presumably he was around when I was a baby. But I do know what he looks like – stubble, baseball cap, long leather jacket, carries a Glock 17 or similar… ”

Mags gave him a withering look.

“John Deverall is a very special man,” she said, “and it's one hundred percent down to him that you still have a father.”

“Yes, tell us about that,” said Katey. “I remember you saying when Uncle Jad was here that he was the man who saved your life. It didn't really register then, or since, I guess. But now he's back – and famous… ”

“Yes, let's hear the story,” said Jack.

“Are you two humouring me or something?” asked Tom, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “This is serious stuff, you know.”

“I'm sure they're not,” said Mags, “and anyway, I'd like to hear it again.”

“Yes, please, Dad,” said Katey.

“Okay. Well… in March 2002 in Afghanistan, Jad and I were part of the UK contingent involved in something called Operation Anaconda along with US and Australian forces. The operation was an attempt to flush out Taliban and al-Qaeda rebels from caves at a place called Shah-e-Kot.”

“Oh, I've heard of Shah-e-Kot,” said Jack. “Really big battle, wasn't it?”

“How did you know that?” asked Katey, genuinely surprised. “I didn't think you knew
anything
.”

“That's right, Jack,” Tom continued. “It was actually the biggest land battle of the war up to that date. We were initially part of a group of sixty SBS and SAS personnel flown in to Bagram to pave the way for the Marines, and at first we stayed in Bagram to work with the medics.”

“Better than being in the fight itself, I guess,” said Katey.

“You'd think so, but that's not how it feels when you're there. There was just a stream of injured being flown in to the field hospital. They weren't people we actually knew; they were mainly US Navy SEALS, but they were our sister force and it was… well… harrowing to say the least – and frustrating.

“Anyway, eventually, an eight-man SBS team, including me and Jad… ”

“
Commanded
by your father,” put in Mags. Tom gave her a big smile.

“That's right. We were flown into the battle zone as part of the reinforcements, but as we landed the Chinook was virtually blown away from around us. God knows how we all survived that, but we did; only to find we were completely surrounded with absolutely no chance of doing anything useful. Some reinforcements, eh!”

“But that was hardly your fault,” said Katey.

“Well, no. But it was bloody annoying after waiting that long to be involved.”

“Annoying?” put in Jack. “God, that's not how I would have described it. Jean-shitting-scary, perhaps.”

“Where do you get these expressions from?” asked Mags.

“Modern English course. Go on, Dad. What happened next? I can't wait to hear if you got out alive or not.”

“For God's sake, Jack,” said Katey. “Grow up!”

Tom shook his head and smiled.

“Well, we split up after a while and managed to get through the cordon one by one, arranging to regroup later on. And apparently, that's what everyone did – everyone except me, that is. I was last out and got separated from the others, then got pinned down by Taliban fire for nearly seven hours… ”

“Seven hours! Christ!” Even Jack couldn't see anything amusing in that.

“…
And
got badly wounded. Two bullets in the chest. Sort of sideways on thankfully, so didn't go through the heart or any major organ, otherwise… ”

“Stop!” said Mags. She was watching Katey go white. “Suffice to say, your father was near-fatally wounded.”

“And it would have been fatally if it hadn't been for Jad,” he continued. “Apparently, when they regrouped and realised I was missing, he went back to look for me.” Tom's voice showed signs of breaking and he paused for a while. “It was a
crazy
thing to do, and God knows how he found me. But he did and he
carried
me – not helped me walk – I was all but unconscious by then – he
carried
me over a mile to safety across his shoulders. The Americans called it an escape from the jaws of hell. Not like the Yanks to make understatements, but really there was no way to describe… ” his voice tailed off again.

Mags gave way to silent tears. “You see,” she said. “We nearly lost him.” She moved along the sofa to sit close to Tom and put both her arms round him. They were all silent for a long time.

“Nothing funny to say?” Katey snapped at her brother. Jack shook his head, tears in his eyes.

“Anyway,” said Tom, regaining his composure and smiling at his audience. “Just for an encore, Jad went back a little way into the so-called jaws of hell to rescue a US soldier we'd passed on the way. And for that day's work, he received a Presidential Citation from a US General – he was the one, in fact, who used the term ‘jaws of hell' – along with the Congressional Medal of Honour – which is the US equivalent of the Victoria Cross, no less. As your mum said, a very special man.”

Katey got up and went to join Tom and Mags in the huddle. Jack walked over as well, standing behind the sofa and placing his hands on Tom's shoulders. “Thank you, God, for Uncle Jad,” he said, half to himself.

“And you've got Uncle Jad to thank for
your
life as well,” Mags said to Katey, when she and Jack had disengaged and returned to their chairs. “Your dad was airlifted to Bagram… ”

“Back to the same place where I'd been helping the medics,” said Tom.

“… then on to Kabul and home. He arrived back on the 22
^nd
of April 2002.” She looked sheepishly across at Tom who smiled broadly and nodded. “And nine months later, to the very day… ”

Jack laughed as Katey blushed. “Well, thank you for telling me that, Mum,” she said, smiling, “but any more details would be most unwelcome.”

They all sat in contented silence for a while.

“It's always amazed me,” said Mags eventually, “why he never had any sort of steady relationship in all the time we've known him.
Very
good-looking, charming, funny, seemingly empathetic with just about everyone. What a tremendous catch he would have been… ”

“Yes, yes,” said Tom. “Let's not get carried away. He's brave, I'll give you that, but in all other aspects I've always thought of him as being rather ordinary, to tell the truth.”

Mags laughed.

“Well, of course, compared to you, I guess he is. But isn't everybody?”

“I suppose it is a little bit unfair to compare the rest of the human race with me,” said Tom. “Everybody's going to come up short, aren't they? I mean, ask any of Katey's friends at school.”

“Anyway,” said Jack, “how come you haven't seen him in all this time? I would have thought an experience like that would have bonded you for ever.”

“It's a good question. I was recovering at home for three months and Jad went to join Operation Ptarmigan, which was north of Kabul. Soon after I was back in circulation, he transferred to the SAS, and our paths just didn't cross, did they, Mags? He was on leave when I wasn't and vice versa. And then he joined this specialist group which kept him away pretty much all the time.

“When I left the Forces, I was around more when he was on leave and we met up a couple of times – that's when you remember seeing him. And then, of course… ”

“You thought he'd been killed.” Katey finished for him. “Have you any idea why that was?”

“None at all,” he said.

“And it's not important,” said Mags. “We thought we'd lost him. And I know it will be a long time before we get him back completely, but eight years is a lot shorter than forever.”

The family home in the walled estate of Etherington Place, close to East Horsley, and a couple of miles outside the M25 ring road, had been vacated by Tom's parents when his father retired and moved with his mother to the Lake District. It was there where Tom and his three siblings had been born and where he had spent his first seventeen years before joining the army. Tom, Mags and Jack had taken over the place just two months before Katey was born.

The property was a grand Victorian mansion house which had originally stood in grounds of just over seven acres. Tom's parents had retained a plot of two acres for themselves and developed the rest of the land by building five new properties each with one manicured acre of its own.

Tom rose at 6.00 am and went out for his regular Saturday morning run. His route took him six miles, round the estate then the surrounding countryside, through a mature deciduous wood, past two ponds and across a rich meadow, before re-entering the estate, doing the same circuit of the five other houses in reverse, and home.

On the way, he thought about their love-making the previous night. It had been the first time for several weeks and had been affectionate rather than passionate; more satisfying than exciting. But it was pleasing and somehow appropriate for the circumstances, their minds still numbed by the revelations of the day.

It took him just under forty-five minutes to complete the run, a time he was reasonably pleased with, given the infrequency of his exercising these days. Back at the house, he poured himself fresh orange juice and went through to the living room where they had enjoyed the previous evening. Picking up the remote, he switched on the BBC News 24 channel. Just for a change, the story on the screen was as far removed from the Lorimar-Deverall saga as possible.

It was a piece about oil reserves in the Gulf of Mexico. What had been estimated as being the largest hydrocarbon discovery to date at the beginning of the century, with an anticipated extraction period of around twenty-five years, now looked like being exhausted six years sooner. The repercussions were staggering for Pet Euroleum, the main field operator, and its partner, Carbonium Oil. Tom watched in awe the pictures of a gargantuan platform, dwarfing the vessels anchored around it and reducing the personnel on its operations deck to virtual insignificance.

When the story moved onto the financial aspects of the case, Tom's interest gradually waned. Apparently, the implications for the partnership were huge, not least being the vast hardware commitment they had made for the full period, and the hit to pre-tax profits they would now take in depreciating the balance of its current value over a much shorter term. They would be seeking a buyer or buyers for the equipment, including the massive structure he had just seen, to reduce the overall costs of the operation down to manageable levels.

He changed channels and found he was even less interested in the latest unknown celebrity to be voted off a small cruise chip languishing in the Caribbean. He switched off without trying any other alternatives, and returned to the kitchen to replenish his drink.

It was just after seven o'clock, and Mags appeared in the doorway. In spite of her wearing no make-up, and her natural golden-blonde hair looking like she had been recently electrocuted, her overall appearance was stunningly beautiful, as always. She kissed him firmly on the mouth and helped herself to a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You lucky, lucky boy!” said Tom.

“What?” asked Mags.

“Just looking at you and talking to myself,” said Tom. “Listen, that run has really wasted me. I'm thinking of going back to bed. What do you think?”

“I think it might be for the best; you can't be too careful at your age. I guess I should come with you to check that you're okay.”

“Oh, would you, please?” said Tom, smiling broadly. “That would make such a difference to the next half hour.”

They went back to bed together, but the sound of Katey already up and moving noisily around further down the corridor, caused them to revise their initial plans and just lie together contentedly in each other's arms.

“What time are you leaving for the office?” asked Mags, twisting to look at the clock on her bedside table.

“Taking a sicky today,” he said. “Phoned Jenny yesterday on the way home. To be honest, I should probably have gone in, but I really couldn't face the thought of it yesterday afternoon.”

“Good,” said Mags. “Then when you've recovered from your exertions – and as it seems unlikely you'll be exerting yourself again in the next few minutes” – she added, as they heard Katey clumping about at the top of the stairs in her wooden-soled flip-flops – “ I don't suppose you fancy a drive to the new nature reserve at Kings Leyburn? They've got over a hundred avocets that they think will be over-wintering there for the first time this year.”