A Minefield Full of Penguins Page 5

  “Everyone says they hate London, that doesn’t mean they run off to do some dodgy job in the arse end of nowhere. You had a good job with Uncle Ed.”

  “You know I hated my job. Ed only kept me on because I was sort of family...”

  “So you hate my family…”

  “Stop putting words in my mouth.”

  “You’re just going to throw three years of our lives away, just like that?”

  “We had some good times; we’re just not having them anymore.” I said trying to de-escalate the argument and wondering why I was bothering.

  “That’s because you never want to do anything.”

  “No, it’s because I don’t want to do anything you want to do.”

  “You don’t say that when you get to play with this,” she ran her hand up and down her slim body. The memory of Debbie saying something very similar in very similar circumstances a lifetime ago passed through my mind and my resolve wavered.

  “Oh, yes, I remember, that’s something we both liked doing together once.” I replied, wondering what she was planning.

  “Well, every time you fucked me, I faked my orgasms.”

  “What all of them? I’m glad I didn’t put all that effort in just for your benefit then.” I heard myself say.

  “Do you not care about my feelings at all?”

  “Not anymore, I’d like to say it was nice knowing you, but…” I shrugged, “Goodbye Melissa.” I said, walking to the door. She screamed and flew at me, trying, I think to rip my face off with her immaculately manicured nails. I grabbed her arms and threw her onto the sofa, not wanting to hurt her. She bounced off and grabbed a pair of dumbbells from her bag, snarling like an animal as she jumped up and took a wild swing at me that I dodged. Too late I realised that swing been a dummy as, out of the corner of my eye I saw a pink dumbbell in a skinny fist heading straight towards my face. Everything went into slow motion as I realised she was actually going to land the punch and it was going to hurt.

  I’ve been hit hard in my life more than a few times, I’ve been shot, I’ve been blown up, I even had a house fall on me once but this was something else, an explosion in the side of my face, and then a secondary one in the back of my head when it hit the sloped ceiling.

  For a millisecond I smelt something that brought back my earliest memory, I was in a long, high, elaborately decorated corridor, a dark haired unshaven man was looming over me holding a sword and laughing, then there was the sound of what I now realised was a gunshot and the laughing head disappeared. I reeled sideways, disorientated, wondering why I couldn’t see anything until I realised I’d closed my eyes. With an effort, I opened them. Melissa was lying on the floor, her right wrist at a strange angle, it looked like she’d either fallen backwards over the coffee table or I’d pushed her. For a second I thought she was dead. Unpleasant thoughts about my immediate future crowded into my mind until Melissa took a deep breath and sobbed dramatically. I straightened up, the buzzing in my ears got louder and I leaned on the wall for support.

  “I take it that’s a goodbye from you then,” I croaked.

  “Fuck off and die.” She sobbed, not looking at me as she wiped her uninjured hand across her face removing an eyebrow. My body was telling me I should sit or even a lie down but I decided to take the first part of Melissa’s advice before she found something heavy or sharp to take care of the second. I staggered into the hall, opened the apartment door, stumbled down the first few stairs and rested my throbbing cheek on the cold wall. This made me feel slightly better. I descended the stairs in that position until I got to the second-floor landing. I could hear the TV from under my neighbour’s door, I’d never met them and now probably wasn’t the best time to introduce myself.

  I put my hand to my cheek, it was wet, hurt like hell and I hoped the wetness was condensation from the wall and not blood. I made my way down the next two flights, holding tightly to the banisters until I reached the ground floor. It was in darkness, apart from the orange light from the streetlights shining through the front door. My body said enough, and I slumped to the floor.

  I don’t know how long I sat on that freezing cold vinyl floor, but I was seriously thinking of getting up when my phone rang. I pulled it out, the screen bright in the dark corridor. It wasn’t Melissa or anyone else I knew, so I answered it.

  “Hello, Xavier here” I said, impressed at how steady my voice sounded.

  “Mr Costella?” It was one of those voices you hear in the army from a certain type of officer. Posh, confident and utterly ruthless.

  “Speaking.”

  “I’m Sir Arthur Carnegie, one of the Trustees of the organisation you now work for. Would you care to join me at my club for dinner or did you have other plans? I realise this is your last night in London.” My plans, as such had been to feel sorry for myself on the front seat of my van until I felt well enough to inflate the mattress, but this seemed preferable. I’d only eaten an éclair since breakfast and my stomach rumbled.

  “I’d be delighted to join you,” I managed to reply. “Do you have anywhere I could clean up first, I’m not really in a fit state for company.”

  There was laughter down the line. “I’m sure the club will cope. You are at your home address?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “There is a taxi outside, hop in and the driver will bring you here.”

  “Ok, see you there,” I replied, not sure whether to be afraid or impressed.

  CHAPTER 4

  Meet the New Boss

  I got up. To my relief the buzzing in my head had gone, my cheek was now throbbing in agony but I found I could walk in a straight line if I concentrated hard. Waiting outside was an older style black cab sitting in the entrance to the courtyard. I got in, the warmth enveloping me, making me realise how cold I’d gotten.

  “Evening mate, off to the club?” The cabbie said, looking at me strangely. I wondered if my face looked as bad as it felt.

  “Yes, please.” We made our way through the London traffic towards the centre of the capital, the buildings becoming larger and better maintained, the cabbie being thankfully silent. It seemed quite a bit later than I thought it was. I looked at my watch, it was nearly half eight which meant I had spent two hours collapsed in the corridor.

  The cab pulled up in front of a large, anonymous looking Victorian building. “Here you go mate,” said the cabbie. I got out and went to pay him but he had already driven off at speed. I shrugged and went up the steps to the double front door, wondering whether to knock or just go in. I was saved the decision as someone opened the door for me. “Good evening sir,” a suited, middle age man with ex-army written all over him greeted me “you must be Mr... Oh, are you okay?” He grabbed my arm in a firm but gentle hold and manhandled me into the building. We entered a large wood panelled hallway with an impressive staircase going up to the first floor. “This way sir,” he half-led, half supported me into a room off the hallway that looked like a comfortable study. “Sit here sir, I’ll get the doc, and let Sir Arthur know you’ll be delayed.” I sat down in a comfortable chair and the doorman left.

  I looked around the dimly lit room for a mirror to see what had provoked such a reaction. There was one above the fireplace, I got up off the chair and looked into it. My face actually looked worse than it felt, I looked like an extra from a zombie movie. Blood had caked over the side of my face which had swollen up like a balloon, and blood had dripped over my shirt and jacket. I looked at my hands, they were covered in blood as well. No wonder the taxi driver had looked at me funnily. I looked around the room for a sink as I did so the door opened and a muscular black man in a spotless white shirt entered. “Good god man, sit down.” he said with a slight Caribbean accent.

  “It looks worse than it is.” I said, sitting back down in the chair.

  “Let me be the judge of that.” He said, opening a built-in cupboard revealing a comprehensive amount of medical supplies and pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. “You can call me Doctor Rae. Now, what happened to you?”

  “Girlfriend hit me, well, I suppose she’s my ex-girlfriend now.” He turned on a bright light over the chair and examined my face, there was an unreassuringly sharp intake of breath.

  “Man, what did she hit you with?”

  “Her fist.”

  “Jesus, is she a heavyweight boxer?”

  “She was holding a dumbbell.”

  “Hmmm, look into this light, and here.” He said, taking out a torch and checking for concussion. “Do you have any other injuries?”

  “I hit the back of my head on the ceiling.” The doc probed the back of my head. It felt sore, but not as sore as my cheek.

  “Do you feel nauseous?”

  “No, not anymore, I seem to be missing a couple of hours though.”

  “Is she ok? Did you hit her?” I held up my hands and examined them, to my relief, underneath my blood they were unmarked.

  “I don’t think so, but there are a couple of seconds I can’t account for. I think she fell backwards over the coffee table, it looked like she’d injured her wrist hitting me.” I took a long shuddering breath. “I’ve never been hit so hard in my life.”

  “Was she conscious?”

  “Conscious enough to tell me to fuck off and die. There’s a lot to be said for breaking up by text.” The doc gave me a grim smile.

  “I’m just going to take some pictures before I clean you up, we always do in cases like these,” he said calmly, taking a professional looking camera from the cupboard.

  “You seem well equipped for a gentleman’s club.” I said. The doc laughed.

  “This ain’t no gentleman’s club, this is a club for people who work for a living. Sometimes the work may entail getting a bit battered and you may not want to pa
y a visit to a hospital and be asked awkward questions. That is why I’m here, that is why your driver didn’t scream and drive off. Now, let’s see what we can do about your face, sit back and relax,” I sat back, and the doc started to clean up my face, after some painful probing the doc straightened. “Tell me, did your fiancée have a ring on her hand? A ruby ring?”

  “How did you know it was a ruby ring?” I asked, mystified. The doc smiled and held up a pair of tweezers, holding up what looked like a decent sized ruby of, maybe, a couple of carats.

  “I gave her that ring, it’s probably a fake,” I said trying to grin at the irony. Grinning hurt. The doc dropped the ruby into what looked like an evidence bag and continued to clean up my face.

  There was a knock on the door and the doc got up, leaving me looking up at the ceiling. There was a quiet conversation; I overheard enough to guess they would send someone to check on Melissa. The doc returned. “You’ve got a change of clothes there once I’ve finished cleaning you up. Just leave your stuff on the chair and the staff will try to clean them.”

  The doc spent a fair amount of time cleaning up my face, finishing up with stitches that seemed to take ages. “Right, I’m done, the stitches should dissolve in a couple of weeks and you should keep your good looks, I’ve done a nice job if I say so myself.”

  “Thanks, doc.” I said, getting up and looking at my reflection in the mirror. I still looked like an extra from a zombie movie, just this time I was a survivor.

  “It’s been a pleasure. Now get changed then go find Giles in the hall, he’ll take you where you need to go. You have concussion, give that number a call if you are on the verge of collapse or your head explodes, you know the drill.” He gave me what looked like the standard NHS card for concussion and left the room. There was a dark blue polo shirt, a pair of cream chinos and, randomly, a pair of tartan carpet slippers on a side table. They all fitted perfectly. After changing, I left the surgery and found the doorman who had brought me in.

  “You look better sir,” he said, “I’ll take you to Sir Arthur and don’t worry about your suit, we’ll fix it.”

  He led me down a wide passage into a large, square, high ceilinged dining room, there was the quiet murmur of conversation from the few occupied tables, the clink of cutlery, and the delicious smell of roast dinner. I suddenly realised I was starving. Giles led me to a table at the far side of the room where Sir Arthur greeted me. He looked to be in his late 50s, or well preserved 60s, smartly dressed in a blazer and a plain tie with a battered face the texture of leather under a shock of white hair. He greeted me with a smile. “Xavier, glad you could join me, call me Arthur.” He stood up and firmly shook my hand.

  “Sorry for the holdup.”

  Sir Arthur laughed. “These things can’t be helped. Anyway, you ended up in the right place. Doc Rae’s here for that sort of thing. You hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “Roast Beef sound good?”

  “Roast anything sounds good. I’d even give the vegetarian option a go.” Sir Arthur laughed, raised his hand and made a gesture to one of the serving staff and two overfull plates were put in front of us.

  “Best if you stick to water, what with you having concussion and a long drive ahead of you tomorrow.” Sir Arthur poured water from a carafe for both of us. I took a long drink, speared a roast potato, and almost instantly felt better.

  “I wanted to meet with you before you left for Wales.” Sir Arthur said after we’d both eaten a decent amount.

  “I get the impression this is more than a caretaker’s job,” I replied mopping up gravy with my Yorkshire pudding.

  “Well, yes, but,” Arthur paused, trying to find the right words “I don’t want to patronise you or give you... false expectations. We need someone who won’t lose their head if shit goes down but the chances are the only shit you will need to deal with is in the Tudor era sewer system.”

  “So, something might happen but probably won’t but you can’t even give me a hint about what that may be?”

  “Exactly. I’m glad you understand.” I couldn’t tell if Arthur was being sarcastic or not. “You also have some missing people to find.”

  “I do? James failed to mention that.”

  “Well, think of it as a little task given to you by the Trustees, this is more a Trafalgar Court matter than an Agency matter.”

  “So, who am I meant to find?”

  “I’d start off finding Lady Jane, she shouldn’t be too hard to find. She was put in a care home somewhere in Wales around six months ago after a stroke. She will have information that will lead you to the others.”

  “Easy to find?” I protested. “There must be hundreds of care homes in Wales.”

  “Six hundred and seventy-three, actually. Oh, and to make matters interesting she may not even be registered under her own name.” Sir Arthur grinned at me. I sighed.

  “So, who are the others I need to find then?”

  “Her husband, Sebastian or his associate Father Callis, we have intelligence that one of them is dead but we don’t know which one. Plus, there is also one of our people who worked for the estate, a Richard Redmond.”

  “You seem to have been very careless with your staff. Any idea of where they are?”

  “Believe me, you need to find Lady Jane first, don’t waste your time trying to find the others before you talk to her.”

  “I’m sure I will have plenty to do once I get up there without ringing every nursing home in Wales.”

  “True. The place hasn’t exactly been neglected, but it hasn’t been cared for as it should have been. You shouldn’t have to worry about sleeping in a tent.”

  “That’s reassuring. Do I get to know anything else about the house?”

  Sir Arthur smiled.

  “James wants it to be a surprise.” He stretched in his chair like a satiated lion. Talking of James, how do you think he’s coping with the job, you’ve known him a long time.

  “He looks exhausted, still the same old James. He seems to think his life is in danger though.”

  “Oh, it is. He’s made a lot of dangerous and powerful people slightly less dangerous, not quite as powerful and considerably poorer in the short time he’s been in charge. I doubt any of them know who or what he is, but we can’t be too careful.”

  “I get the impression he thinks he’s been dropped in it though.”

  Sir Arthur frowned.

  “Hmm... you could say that. We hadn’t realised how bad things had got until his predecessor keeled over. Don’t feel too sorry for him, he is superb at what he does, he’s already accomplished more in the short time he’s been in charge, than his predecessor managed in the last ten years. We don’t give out top spec Range Rovers because people just ask for them you know.”

  “That’s a pity. So, why else did you bring me here tonight? I take it wasn’t to talk about James’ delicate feelings, his overpowered Chelsea tractor and a couple of missing people.” I said, Sir Arthur laughed.

  “I wanted to meet you face to face, just to make sure we’d hired the right guy. Finding those missing people is very important too.” He said as one of the staff approached us and asked if we’d like the sweet trolley.

  “So what is this place? The doc said it wasn’t your normal gentleman’s club.”

  “No.” Arthur paused, considering me. “I suppose I can tell you, if you go to the press or anyone else with anything you learn about us, you won’t even have the crater you die in named after you.” He smiled to take the edge off the threat but he sounded more intimidating with a few soft words and a joke than Ed could have ever dreamt of being.

  “This place was set up for people who work or have worked on the edge of the law for the good of this country, not criminals as such, but they could face jail if their actions came to be known. It’s good to have somewhere to relax, people to talk to who understand and, in cases like yours, medical assistance with no questions asked.”

  “I’m not really part of that world, am I?”

  “Oh Mr Costella,” Sir Arthur grinned like a shark “the minute you got in James’ car you were part of this world.” It was at this point Giles approached our table.

  “Sorry to bother you sirs, but I thought you both would like to know the police have taken Mellissa Curr into custody. She is currently in A&E with injuries consistent with punching something, say, for instance, a brick wall, with some force.” Giles allowed himself a small smile. “You will also be pleased to hear sir, there are no other injuries. She is however spinning some wild, but, inconsistent stories.”