The King's Deception (54 page)

“Time for us to leave,” he said to Gary.

The boys said their goodbyes, then Ian faced him. “Maybe I’ll come see you one day in Denmark.”

“I’d like that. I really would.”

They shook hands.

Miss Mary stood beside Ian, her arm on the boy’s shoulder. He saw the pride on her face and realized that maybe now, finally, she had a son.

And Ian a mother.

He said, “Perhaps it’s time for your street days to end.”

Ian nodded. “I think you’re right. Miss Mary wants me to live with her.”

“That’s an excellent idea.”

Tanya stepped close and hugged him. “Good to know you, Mr. Malone. That was quite an adventure you gave us.”

“If you ever want a job again in the intelligence business, use me for a reference. You did good.”

“I enjoyed the experience. Something I shall not soon forget.”

Gary said his goodbyes to the sisters while Malone led Kathleen Richards off to the side.

“What happened in there?” she asked in a low voice.

“The journal is gone, as are all the translations. Officially, this never happened.”

He hadn’t told her much about his conversations last night with Stephanie, but the confirmation came earlier. “You have your job back with SOCA. That’s an order straight from the top. All is forgiven.”

She tossed him a thankful smile. “I was wondering how I was going to make a living.”

“I appreciate what you did down there. We owe you our lives.”

“You would have done the same.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t stop being you. Go for it. With all you’ve got, and to hell with the rules.”

“I’m afraid it’s the only way I can do the job.”

“That’s what I want to hear.”

“But I still killed Mathews. I could have shot him in the leg. Taken him down.”

“We both know that wouldn’t have worked. The SOB deserved to die and, if given the opportunity, I would have done the same thing.”

She appraised him carefully. “I do believe you would have.”

“He recalled the last time he’d enountered Thomas Mathews. I told him once, seven years ago, that one day he’d press someone too far. And he finally did.”

She thanked him for all he’d done. “Maybe I’ll come over to Copenhagen one day and see you, too.”

Her eyes held the promise of more.

“Anytime,” he said. “Just let me know.”

They walked back to the others.

“We made quite a team,” he said to them. “Thanks for all your help.”

He watched as they left, walking back to the train station for their return trip to London. He and Gary were headed straight to Heathrow, a car waiting for them at the house’s main entrance, courtesy of Stephanie Nelle.

“You okay?” he asked Gary.

They hadn’t really discussed all that happened yesterday. And though Gary had not actually killed Antrim, he’d certainly allowed him to die.

“He was a bad man,” Gary said.

“In every way.”

The world swarmed with hacks, con men, and cardboard cutouts. Parents fought every way they could to shield their kids from each and every one. But here the truth had to be faced. He needed to say something.

“You’re my son, Gary. In every way. You always will be. Nothing has changed that, or ever will.”

“And you’re my dad. Nothing will ever change
that
, either.”

A chill swept through him.

“You got an earful yesterday,” he said.

“I needed to hear it. That was reality. Mom kept it from me for a long time. But the truth finally found me.”

“We now know why your mother kept Antrim to herself.”

Gary nodded. “I owe her an apology.”

“She’d appreciate that. She and I made a ton of mistakes a long time ago. It’s good to know that they’re all resolved now. Or at least I hope they are.”

“You’ll never hear me speak of this again. It’s done.”

“As it should be. But how about this one thing. Let’s keep what happened here to ourselves.”

His son smiled. “So Mom won’t kill you?”

“Something like that.”

Silence grew between them as they admired the gardens. Birds flitted across the grass in quest of tidbits. Thick trunks of mottled yellow and green bark cast a peaceful look. He recalled a story about
the crumbling oak he could see in the distance. Where in November 1558 a twenty-five-year-old imposter dressed as the Princess Elizabeth, a role by that day he’d played for twelve years, was told of Queen Mary’s death. He’d been reading a book and glanced up from the page at hearing the news that he was now ruler of England.

His words were prophetic.

This is the Lord’s doing and it is marvelous in our eyes
.

The last two days flowed with a calm finality through his mind. Much had happened. Much was over. But as with the imposter that day in the garden, so much lay ahead.

He wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home.”

M
ALONE FINISHED HIS STORY
.

An hour had passed.

Pam had sat at the table, in the quiet kitchen, and listened to every word, her eyes moistened with tears.

“I wondered why I never heard from Antrim again. I lived in fear, every day, that he would show up.”

He’d wanted to tell her all of this for some time. She should know the truth. But he and Gary had agreed to keep it to themselves.

“I learned why you suddenly decided to tell me the truth about Gary,” he said to her. “Antrim confronted you in that mall. He saw Gary and knew. He surely threatened to tell me himself. You had no choice.”

She said nothing for a time.

“It was bad that day in my office. He made it clear he wasn’t going away. I knew then you both had to know the truth. So I told you first.”

A call he would never forget.

“Gary was so different when he returned from you that Thanksgiving,” she said. “He apologized for the way he’d been. Said he was okay with everything. Told me that you and he had worked it all out.
I was so relieved I didn’t question anything. I was just grateful that he was okay.”

“It was just that the ‘working out’ almost cost us.”

The concerned look on her face confirmed that she understood what he meant. Both of their lives had been in jeopardy.

“Blake was a terrible man,” she said. “When we were together, back in Germany, I just wanted to hurt you. To lash out. To make you feel the pain I felt from your betrayal. It could have been anybody. But stupid me chose him.”

“I might actually understand that, except you never told me that you had the affair. So how was I hurt? Instead, you only hurt yourself, then lived with the consequences inside you.”

And they both knew why that happened. She’d never been able to let go of the fact that he’d strayed. Outwardly, she forgave him. Inwardly, the shock of his cheating festered like a cancer. Occasionally it would rear its ugly head during an argument. Eventually, her lack of trust destroyed them both. Her confessing at the time that she had done the same thing might have changed all that. Maybe their marriage would have ended right then.

Or maybe not at all.

“My anger was so strong,” she said. “But I was nothing more than a liar and a hypocrite. Looking back, we really never had a chance to stay together.”

No, they hadn’t.

“Seeing Antrim that day in the mall brought it all back. The past had finally come to reclaim what it had lost.” She paused. “Gary.”

They sat in silence.

Here was a woman whom he’d once loved—whom in some ways he still loved. Only now they were less than lovers, but more than friends, each knowing the other’s strengths and weaknesses. Was that intimacy? Probably. At least partly. On the one hand it bred a measure of comfort. On the other, a level of fear.

“Blake attacked me the day I broke it off,” she said. “He’d always been aggressive. Had a temper. But that day he was violent, and what really scared me was the look in his eyes. Like he couldn’t help himself.”

“That’s the same thing Kathleen Richards described.”

Richards had called him a couple of months after everything happened and visited Copenhagen for a few memorable days. They emailed a little after that, then lost touch. He’d sometimes wondered what happened to her.

“I never wanted Gary to know that man. Ever. He meant nothing to me, and I wanted him to remain that way.”

“Gary saw firsthand what was important to Blake Antrim. He heard what Antrim really thought of him. I know it hurt, but it’s good he heard it. We both now understand why you kept him to yourself.”

“He’s your son all right,” she said. “Never once has he ever let on he knew anything about his birth father.”

He smiled. “He’d make a great agent one day. Let’s just hope that line of work doesn’t interest him.”

“Part of me hates that Gary saw Blake as he truly was. I don’t want him wondering all of his life if that’s what he’ll become.”

“He and I discussed that afterward, back in Copenhagen. I don’t think he has that worry. Like you said, he’s a Malone. In every way that matters.”

“Is Blake still there, in that underground chamber?”

He nodded. “His grave.”

Stephanie had told him that no gold star would be added to the wall at Langley. That honor was only for heroes.

“And the truth of Elizabeth I stays secret?”

“As it should. The world is not ready for that piece of history.”

He watched as she considered the enormity of all that had happened. He’d learned more of the story from talking to Gary, then to Stephanie a few weeks later. A confidential, cooperative investigation between the Justice Department and the British Home Department had revealed all of the details of Antrim’s and Mathews’ activities.

Quite an adventure from a simple favor.

“My flight to Denmark leaves in three hours.”

He’d come to the States on book-buying business and stopped off in Atlanta for a few days to visit with Gary. He’d never anticipated
having the discussion they’d just had, but was glad everything was out in the open.

No more secrets lay between them.

“You can stop beating yourself up,” he said to her. “All of this is done, and has been for a long time.”

She started to cry.

Which was unusual.

Pam was tough. That was her problem—too tough. Combine that with his own inability to deal with emotions and they’d made for a challenging pair. Their marriage, which included much happiness, in the end failed. Finally now, after so many years, they both seemed to realize that placing blame mattered little. All that mattered was Gary.

They both stood from the table.

She stepped to the counter and tore off a couple of paper towels to deal with her tears. “I’m so sorry, Cotton. So sorry for all of this. I should have been honest with you a long time ago.”

True. But that was past, too.

“I almost got you killed. Hell, I almost got Gary killed.”

He shouldered his travel bag and stepped to the door. “How about we call it even.”

She threw him a perplexed look. “How is that even possible?”

Asked that question three years ago he would have had no answer. But a lot had happened since he left Georgia and moved to Denmark. His life was so different, his priorities changed. Hating an ex-wife was not only meaningless but counterproductive. And, besides, he’d come to realize that he was half to blame for all the hurt anyway.

Better to let it go and move on.

So he threw her a smile and answered with the truth.

“Actually, we’re more than even. You gave me Gary.”

F
OR THIS NOVEL TWO TRIPS WERE MADE TO
E
NGLAND
,
ONE OF
them quite memorable as we were there when the Icelandic volcano grounded all air travel. Good use was made of those three extra days, though, as my wife, Elizabeth, and I scouted more locales that eventually made their way into the novel. For an interesting addition to the novel, check out my short story, “The Tudor Plot,” which takes place seven years before
The King’s Deception
.

Now it’s time to separate fact from fiction.

The death scene of Henry VIII (prologue) happened, and most of the comments made by Henry are taken from historical accounts. The king died without his children present, but whether Katherine Parr visited him during his final days is unknown. Of course, Henry’s passing on of a great Tudor secret to his last queen was my invention. The death of Henry VII at Richmond Palace (
chapter 10
) is likewise faithfully recounted, except I added a visit from the heir. Sir Thomas Wriothesly’s description of what happened that day was most helpful.

Many refer to London’s Metropolitan Police as Scotland Yard, but I decided to utilize its proper label, “the Met.” That was likewise true with the Secret Intelligence Service, which is popularly known as MI6 (responsible for international threats). The Serious Organized
Crime Agency (SOCA) (
chapter 3
) is a domestic law enforcement agency, Great Britain’s version of the FBI.

Windsor Castle and St. George’s Chapel are both magnificent. Henry VIII is buried there, beneath the marble slab as detailed in
chapter 3
. The epitaph quoted is accurate, as is the fact that Henry’s grave was opened in 1813.