Keep Calm (19 page)

“I've heard. Like I say, I get filled in on all your comings and goings. Your dad, on the other hand, hates his job. He thinks Heaton treats him like a sack of trash.”

“Does he really? He never says that to me, not a word on that. He tells me the opposite, in fact, how much he loves working for Heaton.”

“Oh, great. Look at me now, back in the middle of a squabble with you two. The poor guy trusted me, opened up to me, and I blabbed to his daughter. Fat chance he's going to buy me any more breakfasts.” She laughed.

“Well, don't worry, I'll probably keep your secret safe. Odds are that he'll speak to you again, one day.” She thought about it some more, let what Richard said sink in past the playful banter.

“That's sad that he hates his job, though, that Heaton treats him poorly. It's horrible that he couldn't tell me that. We've drifted so far apart, Daddy and I. It makes me truly sorry.”

They talked some more. She opened up to him a little, not a lot. She knew Richard too well. Knew if she revealed too much of her doubts and troubles with Adam, he'd use them. She was enjoying being with him, enjoying the attention he was giving her, but she didn't see herself here again, in this lost world, not permanently. Too much had happened. Too much time had passed. She was a woman, not a little girl. Richard needs a little girl. Kate was a mom, a mother of two, someone's wife. The visit was over. It was time to leave.

He walked her to the door. They took a long last look at each other. He still had a thing for her, it was obvious, and the truth is, she still had a thing for him—maybe not the same thing, but it was definitely a thing. He took her face in his hands, something he used to do in that other life, that other dimension. His giant hands wrapped her face, “like a cupcake,” and in that one second she was one of his little girls again. He leaned in and kissed her. She knew he would. She didn't stop him. A little snog wouldn't hurt.

Her heart was beating. He was just as good a kisser as he always was, maybe better. He pulled her in and held her tight in a way that reminded her instantly of the intimacy they once had. He was the only person other than Adam with whom she had ever shared such tenderness. It whisked her back to scents and sounds, feelings and pleasures long ago locked away—replaced, but never exactly replicated. After a moment she finally pulled away and left. It wasn't easy.

*   *   *

ADAM AND THE
kids and their bags tumbled out of the elevator and into the lobby. Billy was on his handheld game device, working a video game as they walked to the checkout desk, oblivious to where he was and where they were going. Trudy was the opposite. She was beside herself, trying to get her mother on the cell phone.

“You can't just do this, Daddy. You can't just make me leave. I haven't even said good-bye. We're supposed to be here eight more days. I had plans. You know that, right?”

Adam didn't even stop. He just soldiered on, over toward Ronnie, the clerk at the front counter.

“Things have changed, Trudy. I can't keep telling you that. We have no choice.”

He looked into the bar on the way over. The crowd had grown. Sky News now had the God's-eye-view helicopter shot. Several soldiers and government workers were running in and out of the buildings that Adam had been inside of just over two hours ago. A Met cop could be seen running out of 11 and into 10 with a large fire extinguisher as a line of trucks and tanks pulled into the Downing Street concourse.

Adam walked over, dumped the keys to the room in the slot, and didn't even bother checking out. Trudy had the continuation of her meltdown. She started to cry, right in the middle of the lobby. Adam did his best to keep everything as quiet as possible. The last thing he wanted to do was cause a scene. He gently picked up Trudy's handbag, put his arm around her, and spoke softly.

“Trudy, I'm not happy about this, either. I am going to explain it all to you in just a bit, okay? I promise. I just need to get us all away from here. I get that you don't understand it, but I'm only looking out for all of us. All of you. Please trust me, for a little bit more. Okay?”

She didn't want to, but she reluctantly agreed. Ronnie the clerk came over on cue as Kate walked in the front door of the hotel, just back from Richard's. Right away she noticed all of their bags, hers included, laid out on the marble floor in the center of the Millennium's lobby.

“What's this? What's going on, Adam?” Billy popped up and wrapped himself around her legs before Adam had a chance to answer.

“Mommy, I want to stay here. I like this hotel. Poppa's gonna come over and we're going to feed the ducks again. Please tell Daddy we want to stay here.” Ronnie the clerk was as concerned as Kate was.

“Excuse me, sir, is there a problem? Is something wrong with the hotel? With the service? Something that I can do to be of some help?” Kate watched Adam closely for an answer.

“No, no, thank you. It has nothing to do with the hotel. Our plans have just changed. We're going to go somewhere else. Thanks for your concern.” Trudy broke into another round of tears. Kate looked at him, more confused than angry. Adam couldn't explain himself with the clerk hovering so close. He bent down and started grabbing luggage.

“Go where? What are you on about, Adam?”

“Let's go. Grab a bag. I'll explain later.” He threw her a look, trying to tell her that she needed to back him and move along. Ronnie wasn't quite getting the hint that Adam needed some privacy.

“Can I arrange a car for you, sir, or a taxi?”

“No taxi, no car. We're good. Thank you.” Adam headed out to the street. He looked in all directions and tried to make some sense of what his next move would be. Kate and the kids, and Ronnie, followed. Kate grabbed his arm, desperately needing to understand what was happening.

“Adam, you need to talk to me. Why are we leaving here? What has happened? Have you told my father? The people at your company?”

Adam came over, leaned in, and whispered to his wife, “I will explain it all to you when I can. For now, we have to go and you need to trust me. Our lives are in danger, Kate.”

“What?… Have you been drinking?” Before he could answer, the clerk was in his space and in his face again.

“Are you sure, sir, that I cannot call you a taxicab? An airport shuttle? A sedan?” Little Ronnie didn't want to give up. He had been trained too well.

“No taxi. Thank you. It's all good. It has nothing to do with the hotel. I appreciate your concern. We just need to meet up with some friends that have invited us to come stay with them.”

Kate's face scrunched up. “What friends? What are you talking about?”

He pulled her to the side again, talked low. “It's nothing. I'm just saying that so he doesn't think we're on the run or that we're in a panic.”

“Gee, why would he think that, Adam?” she wondered with her most sarcastic drip. He wanted to get into it with her but decided against it. He waved good-bye to the clerk and, with a mountain of unwieldy luggage balanced on his arms and his back, waited for traffic to clear, then crossed over into Grosvenor Square.

“Let's go, Kate, kids. We have to go right now. We're very late.” Trudy and Billy begged with gusto for their mother to talk some sense into him, but Kate already had a solid feeling that that wasn't going to happen. She hiked up her share of the bags and went after Adam, ushering the kids to carefully follow her across the road.

Ronnie watched until they reached somewhere near halfway into the square and then finally let it go. He decided he had done his best, figured they were now going to be some other hotel clerk's problem.

 

ON THE HUNT
■
1

Davina Steel, accompanied by Lieutenant David Bellings of Special Branch, Captain Andrew Tavish, and Edwina Wells, Darling's number two at SO15, descended on Heaton Global's building on Farringdon Street with eight uniformed officers and several different warrants for information pertaining to Adam Tatum. It was a purposely planned show of force. Steel had her Glock on display, next to a pair of handcuffs that were swinging on her belt. She hoped to run into the redhead and “baldy” and deal with the visit they paid to her parents' home. This time, much to Steel's regret, they weren't given any version of the runaround. Heaton was not on the premises and was said to be out of town, but his top people quickly convened with Steel and the investigators in the large wood-paneled conference room on the first floor.

There wasn't a lot of information to give, not if you listened to the sympathetic employees of the large multinational firm. According to the files, the Tatums came into town a few days before the bombing and stayed at the Millennium until they left abruptly after the explosion, which was now six days ago. They had disappeared since then, fallen off the map. No one seemed to have a straight answer as to where they were, where they could have gone, who picked Tatum to be part of the contingent, or why. Heaton Global claimed to be just as in the dark on Adam Tatum as SO15 was.

There was a man at the back of the room, an older fellow with close-cropped hair, a thick, sturdy trunk, and finely polished shoes. Steel watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was doing his best to stay out of the conversation. He always had one eye on the door to the conference room. Steel guessed by his overly firm posture that he was ex-cop, maybe ex-military. There was something weak about him, though, she thought, flimsy in his confidence in direct juxtaposition to his broad chest and thickened build. He had a frightened quality. He was too big to be mousy, but he looked shaken. She played a hunch. She turned and bellowed out across the room, her accent just a little more “street” than usual.

“Oy. Are you Gordon Thompson?” The man at the back wall froze and checked the door again, as if he might even run, then looked back. He wasn't sure how to answer. Finally he put words to lips.

“Yes. Yes. I'm Gordon Thompson, Inspector Steel. How can I help you?”

“Number one, you can start returning my calls. I've rung you three times this week. The receptionist gave me your number, said you made the hotel reservations for the Tatums, that you arranged to have them picked up at Heathrow when they'd landed.”

“Yes. That's true. I did. I'm sorry to not have gotten back. I've been up north at one of Mr. Heaton's properties. The caretaker had to go abroad and it was left to me to take care of some logistics. Please forgive me.”

She glared at him across the room for another moment, then started back in on her questioning. “So you made the reservations for them? At the Millennium?” He nodded. His face was white. Something was wrong with this man. It was obvious.

“I made them with the Chicago office. Actually, a woman called Ellen Doyle. In travel. It was she that cobbled together the arrangements. I just carried through.”

“Who told you to do that? Who were you answering to at the time?”

“No one really. I was just doing what was in front of me. I took care of making sure the whole delegation got in and settled. That's what Sir David has me do. Whatever the job is at hand.” He knew more, Steel could feel that.

“How did they seem to you, the Tatums?” Thompson thought about his answer. He wanted to get it right.

“They seemed like a nice family. Happy to be in London.”

“How about him? Anything unusual with Mr. Tatum?”

“He may have been a bit nervous. This was a step up for him. I could see that.”

“How well did Heaton know Mr. Tatum?”

“I couldn't say for sure, ma'am. I'm not in that kind of position to know how well Sir David would know anyone.”

Steel knew this Thompson person was lying through his teeth. She could feel it. It only added to her growing anger toward the whole company, this whole place. She needed to figure out where he fit in. For now, though, she was done talking to him.

“Next time I call, you pick that damn phone up. You hear me? This is a very active criminal investigation into what may well be an act of treason. I don't have time to play phone tag or to play games with you. Okay, Mr. Thompson?”

“Yes, ma'am. I'll be sure to respond immediately.”

Detectives Tavish and Wells shared a quiet chuckle. Edwina Wells was one of Steel's closest friends on the force, almost an older sister. For some reason she always perversely enjoyed seeing the pint-sized Steel make gruff old men quiver like frightened schoolboys.

*   *   *

WELLS AND TAVISH
may have gotten a kick out of Steel's behavior in the conference room, but when the group left the building and walked toward the patrol cars double-parked on Farringdon Street, they witnessed a show of a completely different kind, a version of their young friend they had never seen.

Harris and Peet were on the far side of the concourse. Davina caught the redhead's eye, baldy's, too, both snickering at her, gloating over what they had gotten away with not only at Number 10 but also at her parents' flat. She lost it. She ducked behind a patrol car without being noticed, pulled out her Glock, and fired off into the sky.

The pack of cops, inspectors, and Heaton Global workers froze. No one knew where the gunshot came from. Steel jumped up from behind one of the Met cars, gun drawn, running full speed toward Harris and Peet.

“You two get down on your knees now!” She called out to the uniformed cops: “Over here. It was them, one of these two. They shot off a firearm.” She screamed as she ran toward the two bewildered bodyguards. “On your knees, now!” She was over to Harris and Peet before they knew what to do or what had happened, the Glock up close in Harris's face. She slapped him.

“Get to the ground now. You, too, baldy, on your damn knees, now!”

The Met police officers were over there, too, guns drawn, circling Harris and Peet. Steel took control of the whole situation, barking out orders at the top of her voice.