Book XII: Part Two

 

 

 

"It's all over. They're safe..."Annie ran into the lounge still holding the phone. "Dad called. He didn't give any information just that Andreas and Zoe are with him and everyone's fine. Crisis over. They're at the hospital getting Andreas checked out but he seems perfectly all right. No apparent harm done. Terry even said he seems surprisingly chipper..."

Liam jumped up, Nina still in his arms. "Where are they? Should we go to the hospital and join them? How's Zoe holding up? What the hell actually happened?"

Annie sat down and raised her arms to take the little child from him. She smoothed down the blonde curls and kissed her head. "I don't know yet. He'll tell us more when we get together. I think we just need to stay here and wait until they join us. I get the impression it's very complicated..."

Jake broke in at that point. "It's great news that everything's fine and all but, what the hell's been going on? I know you don't have the full story but you have to know something. I've been through this with you - come on, guys! Give me something!"

Annie and Liam exchanged a furtive glance. "It's complicated..." Annie began.

"Liam already said. So give me the easy version," Jake insisted. 

Annie seemed inclined to avoid the issue; Liam, however, decided Jake deserved some information. He'd been with them through so much, always supporting; it was time they treated him like more than just an outsider looking in. "Zoe got herself mixed up in something covert a few months ago..."

"I know. She helped to kidnap some billionaire's kid and he came after her... I was with her then. I saw her face..."

"Yeah, mate, I forgot...Well, her behaviour attracted the attention of the security services and some other renegade factions. They got it into their heads that she was sitting on some confidential information - ultimately it led to this incident..." Liam explained succinctly in words that were worthy of his father.

Jake looked skeptical. "This got something to do with Nick Costello?"

"Some..." Liam replied vaguely.

"He's behind everything that goes wrong for her. How the hell did you ever let her get mixed up with that guy in the first place? You all speak of him in hallowed tones like he was some kind of god...He was a killer. How could he not have brought her into shit like this?"

"You didn't know him. He was pretty special..." Liam commented.

"I'm sick of hearing how special he was! Christ, he killed people for a living. Not exactly credentials to inspire confidence in anyone. She clings to his memory as if he was some iconic superhero, and you all encourage it. It's unhealthy. That's what I think, anyway..."

"We didn't ask for your opinion, mate. Your opinion isn't worth a crap. You didn't know him. Your problem is you couldn't live up to him in your head; you're just jealous she loved him more than you..."

"That's enough!" Annie exclaimed. "Liam, that was unnecessary. Jake has a point." She turned to him. "I can't really make you see why Nick was so important to us all. People are often more than what they do, Jake. Nick wasn't just a killer although he was responsible for many deaths. He was also a highly professional intelligence officer, a very talented and resourceful man. His life took him down dark paths but much of what he did was for the good of all. None of us like to hear what some people have to do behind the scenes to make sure the rest of us sleep safely in bed at nights. A man once told me that and I wouldn't believe it when he said it...so I know how hard it is to accept..."

"What changed your mind?" Jake asked astutely.

Annie smiled. "A lifetime of loving that same man. I spoke back then out of ignorance. Once I was pulled into his life - and experienced some of the dangers that went with it - I saw things from a different perspective. You're right. Knowing Nick has caused a lot to happen to Zoe that I wished hadn't happened. I didn't want my daughter to be left a single mother at twenty three. I didn't want her to spend her best years alone. I didn't want her to be brought anywhere near Nick's world...but what can anyone do in the face of love? She loved him. He loved her. They were good together. And his death left her in deep grief. It wasn't unhealthy, Jake, it was just real. Do we look like the kind of people who would easily be taken in by someone? Nick was complex and he was damaged. No one ever pretended he wasn't. But he was a good man in his way with a very unique morality all his own. And in the end, he died for her and for her father - and most of all for Andreas. That sort of sacrifice kind of wipes the slate clean on a lot of other mistakes..."

Jake shrugged. "If he'd lived, you think he would still have been 'the man' to you all? I bet he would have messed up, hurt her, let her down..."

"Yeah, maybe he would. Of course, the fallen hero is always re-drawn in our memories. He reaches a near-legendary status that he never had in life. Nick, of all people, would have hated that. He was arrogant and vain - but no one knew his flaws better than he did himself. He hated any attempt to make him into something he wasn't. But she loved him. He was her hero. Nothing anyone else says will ever change that."

"And if she or Andreas had died as a result of something he had set in play, would you still think like that?"

"Nick didn't cause what happened today, Jake. Bad people with an agenda of their own made it happen. Don't make the mistake of confusing the issue. Nick himself died, not because of his own lifestyle, but because of something connected to Terry's past. We don't blame Terry for that; Nick was killed by evil people, not by Terry. It's naive to judge it any other way. That's the main flaw of western liberalism. We hold to account those who try to deal with the madness out there if they don't always get it right - but how could they be expected to, when the enemy always carries the trump card of not giving a damn even what happens to its own?"

The younger man hunched his shoulders. Annie understood. You had to live in a very different world from the one he inhabited to appreciate her argument. Conspiracy theories were so much more appealing than the truth of governments sinking beneath their own democratic limitations. "Zoe still means a lot to you, I know. Is it going to be difficult for you when she comes back here to Abigail's later? This isn't Liam's home. We won't stay long. I intend to take her back to her own apartment."

Jake smiled. "Not difficult. I'd love to see Zoe and Andreas again if she would allow me. I can't pretend our break up wasn't hard for me - I thought she was the love of my life. How could that not have knocked me back some? But I'm in a different place now. Got a new priority...but I still care about them, you know?

Annie patted his arm. "I didn't know you had a new relationship! That's great news! Is she in London? Anyone we've heard of? I love celebrity gossip as much as the next girl..." she grinned.

"...Haven't we rather got off the point, Mum? I thought we were celebrating? Jake's love life is not exactly our business..." Liam snapped. 

Annie glanced over at him. Even Nina looked up, puzzled by her father's tone of voice.

"Sorry...I didn't mean to pry...' Annie muttered. 

Jake raised a hand as if to say it was of no consequence. Liam appeared agitated. Something about his reaction was out of place. Invariably it was Liam himself who made irreverent reference about other people's lives and then usually showed little remorse for giving away their secrets. Why was he so reluctant to let Jake do the same? But his mother let it pass. He had obviously been so keyed up about the day's events that it was spilling over into his general mood. How typical of Liam to react in an overly melodramatic style.

"I'll go gather my things together. Maybe I should get a cab to her apartment? Put the heating on and stock up on some basics? What do you think, Liam?"

"If you like. It's better you take her straight there. Don't bring her here. I'll call Dad and tell him to meet us at her place. Jake, I'll be back later. Kay can look after Nins...okay?"

Jake demurred, mostly because he didn't have a choice. He'd indicated a wish to see Zoe and Andreas too, but Liam did not seem to want that to happen. So be it. He was probably jealous - or something.

 

*

 

Andreas had not liked the bathroom. As soon as the men had left him and he had heard the key turning in the lock, his earlier bravado had deserted him. He had kicked and screamed for a while before giving it up as useless, looking about him, fear beginning to grip him. As scared as he was of the men, being alone frightened him even more. He sat on the floor under the sink, made himself as small as possible, crossed his legs and hid his face against his knees as if to shut out the place itself. Then he began to cry.

"Hey...none of that. Crying's for girls..." Andreas's head shot up at the sound of a male voice. He instinctively scrambled back into the corner of the room underneath the window, knocking off his little blue hat in the process.

"Leave me alone....go away!" Andreas shouted at him. The man backed off, raising his hands so the child could see he meant no harm.

"Hey, I'm not going to hurt you, Andreas! I'm not with that lot, you know? I'm on your side. I'm here to help you. I know your Mum...and I know Terry and Annie, too. I used to be a mate of your uncle Liam's as well..."

Andreas frowned. "I don't know you. My Mummy says I mustn't talk to strangers..."

"I'm not a stranger, kid. I know your name. I know you but you don't know me, that's all. I've not been around awhile...Since before you were born..."

"Why? Where have you been then?" The child asked logically, beginning to listen to this man. There was something about him that was drawing him.

The man smiled. "Here and there. Mostly there, mate. Look, we don't have much time to talk, Andreas. Those guys out there mean business. They're going to do bad things to you and your Mum if you don't let me help you."

"My Mum? Where's Mummy?" Andreas replied, forgetting his own predicament at the mention of his mother, showing fear at the idea she could be hurt. The man smiled.

"Good man. Your Mum always comes first. She's gonna be here soon, kid. And when she comes things are going to get a bit mad. You and me need to hide now until everything's okey dokey again. It's like an adventure. You ever played hide and seek?"

Andreas nodded, still a little unsure of this person. "How did you get in here? That man locked the door..." Andreas reasoned.

"Crikey, nothing gets past you, does it, mate?" The man grinned. "I'm a special kind of soldier. I can get in anywhere. Hey, you know who taught me how to be a soldier?"

Andreas shook his head. "Who?"

"Your granddad. Terry Thorne. Best soldier I ever knew...taught me everything I know..."

"No, he wasn't! My Daddy was the best soldier in the world! My Mummy told me..."

The man laughed merrily. "You seen any pictures of your Dad, kid?"

"'Course I have! I've got loads of photies! My Daddy was very handsome...." Then the child's voice died away as he looked curiously at the man who was now crouched down before him. "...You look like my Daddy a bit...are you my Daddy Nick?"  It was as if he was suddenly seeing the man in a different light; his face had changed in some way and now he could see a resemblance to the many pictures that were displayed around his home

He grinned. "What do you think, Andreas? Do you think I am?"

"Mummy said Daddy was in heaven. She said he couldn't come back to see me 'cause God wouldn't let him...God wanted him to stay with him..."

Nick chuckled. "I think even God needs a break....Let's call it my 'time off for good behaviour', or something... Your mother'll never believe I earned it...Can I touch you, Andreas? Just for a moment? I want to hold you. I promise I won't hurt you..."

Andreas pouted shrewdly as he thought about the odd request. The man's smile grew wider. The little boy looked so much like his mother when he did that. "If you like..."

His father placed one hand on his son's shoulder, tilting up his chin with the other. "Let's have a look at you, then...You're beautiful, mate...Totally perfect... Almost as good looking as me, you know...? Come here, bubs...!" Nick picked him up and held him to his chest, resting his head against his son's for a moment, closing his eyes. "We're going to hide now. You and me. And get to know each other better. But we've got to whisper. No one out there must know that I'm up here or where we're hiding. Now, close your eyes. That's a good boy. It'll be dark in the cupboard, but I won't leave you. Honest. Don't be afraid. I won't leave you. Do you trust me, Andreas Dimitri Costello?"

Andreas nodded, suddenly in no doubt who the man before him was, reaching out his hand to touch his father's face in wonder. Nick smiled. "That's my name!"

"Well, of course it is! I chose it, mate. Long before you were born... I'm your Dad, aren't I? Close your eyes now...." 

Andreas did as he was told, and felt himself being carried upwards...

 

*

 

"How do you feel about what he said?" Terry asked Zoe as doctors gave Andreas a thorough check up. The child was still buoyant, excited and chatty with the medical personnel, eager to discuss what had happened to him. It seemed unlikely he would require the services of a psychologist.

She gave a blank stare, not even turning to face her father. "What am I expected to feel?  I believe Andreas was hallucinating. God knows what they'd used as a sedative. You know how imaginative he is, Dad! I presume he must have retreated into some wish-fulfilment fantasy to deal with what was taking place, brought on by the effects of the chemicals in his system..." She set her face in a stubborn pout. Zoe was daring him to contradict her.

"Yeah?" Terry observed without commenting.

"Oh for God's sake, Dad, you don't believe him, do you? It's completely absurd! Surely you, of all people, understand the nature of captivity and the unexpected effects it can induce in people..."

"I didn't actually disagree with you, love. No need to be quite so belligerent with me.." he replied gently.

She made a tsk of disapproval. "I know that face. You always put on that superior smug expression when you think I'm talking rubbish..."

"Can't help my face. I was born with it.." he answered with a soft grin, raising a hand to caress her arm.

"Nick did not stage some ghostly rescue. End of story," Zoe stated bluntly, easing away, her body still held rigid. She was so tense he wondered that she did not shatter into pieces.

"No, of course not. That would be impossible," Terry replied. Then added: "So how did Andreas reach that cupboard?"

His daughter stood up sharply. "I don't bloody know! Maybe he climbed. But it wasn't Nick."

"...How did Sergei...MI5...me... how did we know the address? Someone sent us very odd mails and SMS messages..."

"Gil. I think it was Gil. He's been playing some double game but couldn't accept anything bad happening to Andreas. He may have somehow got Andreas up to the cupboard. Maybe before he was awake..."

"I watched Andreas wake up. All other people in that house have been accounted for. No Gil..."

"What are you saying? Are you really sitting there and telling me you believe in ghosts? Have you totally lost it...?"

Terry looked down at the floor, pausing before answering. "Love, he spoke to me. On my cell phone. From his old number. Which is disconnected and has been for many years...I'd know that voice anywhere...It was Nick Costello..."

"...It's a trick! Surely you can see that? Someone is playing with our minds. For Christ's sake, Dad! These people are skilled intelligence agents, covert black ops; they use sophisticated psychological methods..all that crap. You know what they can do...This is some elaborate sting. And don't ask me why they've done it. Who the hell understands the paranoid minds of these agencies?  What's happened to your belief in logic and rational thought? If it looks like a rat, it probably is a rat..."

"It does looks like a rat, baby. So, just maybe it is. There's more in heaven and hell than was dreamt of in our philosophy, to paraphrase the bard...The older I get, Zoe, the less rigid my belief system is. There are too many inexplicable occurrences for anyone to be as arrogant and cocksure as I was as a younger man. Life can still surprise me...Look...make a list. Pros and cons. You'll find that there's only really one thing on the con side..."

"Yeah, a little thing like that the man you think stepped in has been dead five years. That's a pretty big contra, Dad...Or are you suggesting he's still alive? That for some reason, he faked his own death and stayed hidden all this time...?"

Terry sighed, running his hand back through his hair. "Of course not! I know it's insane, but...Zoe, why are you so unhappy about accepting it? Wouldn't it be a comfort to grasp that as an explanation? That when he was needed, somehow Nick interceded? All these years you've secretly hoped that some part of him was there for you...So maybe this is the contact you so much longed for?"

At that she simply walked away. Terry let her go. Faced with a possibility that her adored lover had reached out from beyond the grave in some miraculous way, his daughter was actually horrified. He wondered exactly what that was telling him.

On the other hand, today had been the most traumatic of days for her. Who could blame her from being too deeply shocked to think clearly? This government man who had died had clearly meant something to her. As yet, he still did not know any details. Zoe needed time. He wasn't going to hassle her now.

Suddenly she walked back to him. "Where's Sergei? What happened to him back at that dreadful house?" It was as if the thought had just occurred to her. 

In the aftermath of the rescue, Sergei had backed off, taken his men and left. It had been a simple as that. Terry had told him to hang around until Zoe was ready to talk; that she would want to see him. But Litvinov had refused on several grounds. He didn't want to talk to the intelligence service, police or anyone else, or so he had said. His high profile might attract unwanted press attention to the incident. A gun battle on London streets was difficult to keep quiet anyway. News crews had already been on the scene by the time they left; MI5 had put about a story of a siege situation led by a deranged gunman who had taken hostages when his wife left him.

Terry did not believe that was the reason why Sergei had left. It was just the plausible excuse. He suspected that Litvinov had not been able to face the inevitable rejection that was coming his way. Zoe might not yet have recovered enough from shock to deal with it, but it was obvious that a man with whom she had been deeply involved had died earlier that day. Where was the place for a former lover in all that, despite his professed indifference to her other relationship?

"He left. Almost as soon as Andreas was recovered. I had a quick word with him before he went. He was concerned about news cameras..."

Zoe nodded, wan-faced. "I would have liked to have thanked him, though. He took a big risk for me...I wonder why?" she added.

Terry nodded but did not offer an opinion.

"...He's such a good man, Daddy. Although he tries to pretend he's tough and uncompromising and that nothing affects him, at heart, he's very sentimental... emotional even... suppressed...He so needs a woman to love him..."

"Yeah? Wouldn't know about that, sweetheart. It isn't a side he's shown to me..." 

She smiled back at her father's flippant, typically male response, a sad little smile showing she knew her father understood such men implicitly, whatever he pretended. Why would he not? He was much the same himself. "No. You're right. Sergei would die before he let a living soul know he needed something..."

"...He let one living soul know though, didn't he?' Terry observed softly, finally taking her into his arms and coaxing her to let him hold her, trying to make her body relax. She needed to cry so badly but something was blocking her natural response. Grief and shock were like that, he had found.

"Yeah, and look where that got the poor bastard..." she pressed her face against his shoulder, but her eyes were still dry.

"...Mummy...look! They gave me ice cream...I wanted ice cream all day...And they gave me three scoops! Chocolate, strawberry and that green one with nuts....!"

Their conversation was at an end as Zoe turned her attention back to her son. Terry watched his daughter's face light up, the first sign that the cold rigid tension might just be beginning to dissipate. At the end of the day, the child would be the one to see her through. But somewhere in his heart Terry knew that this was not enough for a woman like Zoe in the long run. That was where she had got herself into problems before.  It was time for her to stop living through her son.

But now, more than ever, he suspected she would retreat back into the safe world of motherhood. It was the only thing in her life that had never let her down.

 

 

One evening a few weeks later, Andreas remembered something new about his strange experience, the thing everyone now referred to as 'That Day'. He had been sitting in a bubble bath back at his own apartment, playing with some toys and chattering mindlessly in his usual fashion with his mother kneeling by the side.

 Suddenly he giggled to himself. "I remember it now!"

"Remember what, sweetie?"  Zoe asked as she stood him up, taking a hand shower to hose off the foam.

"The funny joke. Dad told me lots of funny jokes but I couldn't remember them. But I just remembered the one about the cows. It was so funny! I nearly laughed out loud! He put his hand over my mouth to stop me...but he tickled me as well so I nearly chucked up..." She wrapped a towel round him, lifted him up and carried through to his room, without responding to his comment. The child psychologist had told her not to encourage any revelations Andreas made, but to allow him to talk freely all the same. He needed to get all this out but was not to be led on in the fantasy or his mind would develop an even more complex account than he was already able to give.

"Mummy...Can I tell you his bestest joke? The one about the cows?" Andreas asked as she set him down and dried him gently in the fluffy warm towel.

"Sure..." she murmured.

He danced about with excitement as he thought it out in his head. "Okay...I remember it now...There were these two cows in a field eating grass. One cow lifted his head and said: 'MOOOOOO!!!!' The other cow looked up and said. "I was just gonna say that!" The child collapsed into a fit of helpless laughter at his own joke. Even Zoe had to smile at the nonsense. It was exactly the kind of thing Nick would have said to a child. Then she shook herself. Liam had probably told him the joke; or maybe Jamie. Yes, probably Jamie. The two of them had been as thick as thieves at times.

"Here's another! The queen was having dinner and she did a smelly poopsie so she pretended her servant did it and said: 'Stop that!" He said: 'Yes, queen! Which way did it go?' Only Dad said fart not poopsie, but I know you don't like that word..." Andreas explained.

It was the first time Zoe allowed herself seriously to consider that what her son was saying might be the truth. These jokes brought a level of complexity to the fantasy that was surely impossible for his baby brain to contrive. Why would he substitute the rude word so carefully unless it had actually been said? If this was coming from his childish mind, then so would the vocabulary of the tale. Nick would have said 'fart' even to a child. She knew he would.

Picking him up, she placed him on the bed, still wrapped in his towel, kneeling down before him. "Andreas, I want to ask you something very particular about the man in the cupboard. He touched your face. He put his hand on your mouth. He tickled you. Did you see his hands at any point?"

"What do you mean?" Andreas asked curiously.

"Did he show you his hands? Or did you see them with your own eyes at any time? Did his hands look normal, Andreas?" No one had ever told Andreas about his father's false hand. Why would they have done so? Her son had never heard that salient fact about his father's handicap. Here and now would come the proof she was beginning to need that Andreas had been hallucinating. Or not.

Andreas screwed up his face, thinking. "Yeah, I saw his hands. What do you mean 'normal', Mummy? They were just hands. They were like big man's hands with brown hair on the backs, not golden hair like Uncle Liam..."

Zoe breathed air out slowly at his response, aware only then that she had held her breath at all. It had been all in his head. There was no miraculous presence of a long dead man.

"...I remember 'cause he held his hands up and said: 'Tell your Mum, I've got two good hands now...'I'd forgotted that, Mum. I just remembered now. Why did Dad say that? Everyone has two hands, don't they...?"

"Oh God...!" Zoe gasped.

"Mummy...are you all right?" Andreas scrambled forward and put his arms around her, reading her shock. 

She nodded, struggling for composure. 'I'm fine. It's okay. That was a funny joke about the cow! Come on, let's get your jimmy-jammies on. I'll ask Nannie to read you a story... and you can tell her all your jokes...."

Andreas fell quiet while she was dressing him; she presumed he was growing sleepy after the warm bath. As she helped him into bed, however, he suddenly began to speak again. It was obviously something he had been thinking about.

"I asked Daddy if he was coming back. But he can't come back. He said you didn't need him anymore. He said I was going to have another Daddy soon. I don't want another Daddy, Mum. I like Daddy Nick. He's funny. He helped me. Can you tell him you want him to come back? Please?"

Zoe was at a loss to know what to say. There was nothing anyone could say to such an appeal. How do you explain the finality of death to a four-year-old child without scaring him? But would Andreas thus now hold her responsible for refusing to let Nick back into their lives?

"I wish Daddy could come back too, Andreas. But he can't. What happened in that house was a very special thing. You were very lucky to have that chance to meet him. When people die they can't come back to us. It took a special effort for Daddy to do that. He did it because you were in danger. To show how much he still loves us both. Can you understand what I am trying to say?"

Andreas frowned, showing her he was trying. "He said he wasn't going to worry about us anymore because my new Daddy could take care of us. He said I had to be a very good boy for my new Daddy, not a little bugger like I was when Tom came round..."

"He said that?" Zoe exclaimed.

Andreas nodded. "Is bugger a naughty word? Dad said it. He told me I had to be nice when your friends came round. He said I wouldn't like it if you were horrible to my friends. That's what he said. Is Tom going to be my Daddy?" Andreas asked her directly.

Zoe shook her head sadly. "No, sweetie. Tom won't be coming round anymore."

"Because of me?" Andreas asked.

"Of course not! Tom wasn't really mad with you. He knew you were just not used to him yet. But I'm not seeing him anymore. It's over, Andreas. It didn't work out."

"Like with Jake?" Her son's acuity never ceased to amaze her.

"Yeah, baby. Like with Jake. Sometimes it just doesn't work out." She would not tell Andreas Tom was dead. What would be the point? It would only increase his anxiety levels about adults disappearing from his life. "Okay, you still want Nannie to read a story?"

"Yes!" he shouted.

"I'll go call her. But only one, mind...it's late and she's tired, too..."

 

*

 

 

Annie found Zoe listening to melancholy music in the darkened lounge, when she had finally settled her grandson and watched him drift off to sleep. He had been in a talkative mood and had told her much the same as he had his mother. It was of no surprise to her that her daughter needed time to reflect. It was no longer possible for her to close her mind to the evidence that something metaphysical had indeed taken place in her life. She turned down the music and came over to join Zoe on the couch.

"Zoe? Can I put on a lamp? You shouldn't be sitting all alone here in the dark..."she began.

"Why not me, Mum? All these years I waited for him to show me that some part of his essence was still around. I waited until I truly believed he had deserted me. I even began to think that he hated me for making stupid decisions and taking needless risks with my life. But for five years I kept his candle burning at the altar - and never once did he give me a sign. But he came back for Andreas. He even spoke to Dad, didn't he? Why couldn't he just have given me the comfort of one little word? Even a moment would have been enough..."

Annie switched on a lamp. Zoe was sitting clutching something in her hands. She had been crying silent tears. Turning to her mother, she extended the piece of paper. It was a well-thumbed letter.

"What is this?" Annie asked.

"The letter he wrote to me. The one he left in the parcel with Jamie on the day it happened..."

They had known of its existence but no one but Zoe had ever seen the contents. "You don't have to show it to me. He meant it only for you..."

"What's the damn point of that now? He doesn't belong to me anymore! He couldn't even bloody well reach out to me to reassure me. He could have warned me somehow and we would all have been safe! He could have prevented Tom's death...or maybe he wanted him to die? So he couldn't have me? Is that his plan? To ruin me for any other chance in life I might have!"

Annie sat down next to her and took her by the shoulders, shaking her. Zoe was beginning to turn hysterical. "Don't talk like that! Nick would never do anything to ruin your happiness. For God's sake, Zoe, he was a realist. Who knew better than him about life? Or death?"

"Read the damn letter...!" Zoe replied sullenly.

Annie scanned it, trying not to be affected by the irreverent pathos of Nick's words. It was so typically Nick's voice and yet laced with a passion and sentimentality he had never shown to anyone else. It was embarrassingly personal, heartbreakingly honest and true. Annie wondered how many times her daughter had cried herself to sleep over his words. But when she came to the last paragraph, she couldn't restrain her own tears from flowing. Especially when she read:

 

 

"There is nothing here to suggest he would ever have wanted anything for you but to find happiness with someone else..." Annie said.

"He didn't mean it in the end."

"Of course he meant it! He somehow broke through because it is his job to save you! What more can you ask for from him?"

"I wanted to talk to him again! Why did he not want to see me? After all this time did I not deserve that?" she demanded.

Annie rested her hand gently on her daughter's face. "Five years on, Zoe. And you were still unable to forget him. Nick didn't come to you because all it would have done would have been to set you back even further, confuse you even more. When he died in my arms, thinking I was you, he asked you to let him go. But you never really have. You have held him to you all these years and he knows that until you completely let him go, you will never find that freedom. Let him go, Zoe. He wants you to let him go - for your own good..."

Zoe sat up straight, staring into some distance of her own imagination, tears coursing down. "He told Andreas he would have a new Daddy. Soon. Who would look after us from now on...but Tom is dead..."

"Maybe he didn't know that? Who knows?" Annie replied helplessly. "Or just maybe he meant someone else...he contacted Sergei. Why do you think he brought him into it?"

Zoe sprang to her feet, aghast. "You think I can simply forget Tom and take up with Sergei again? Poor me, my boyfriend's dead but not to worry, Litvinov's still here. Lucky old me, he's gorgeous and rich and...For Christ's sake, Mum!  Could you have forgotten Dad so easily if something had taken him away from us!"

Annie felt ashamed. Zoe was right. If love is real, then it cannot be switched as easily as changing one's hair colour. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just thought maybe in the future...? Who knows? I don't know anything about this Tom. You won't speak of him or even how he died. I didn't realise you loved him so much."

"I don't know how much I loved him or whether I even loved him at all. The man I thought I loved seemed perfect for me: right background, brilliant mind, handsome, noble, young, witty, sharing my sort of upbringing. But, of course he would be perfect for me. He wasn't real. He was what they call in the service 'a legend' which means a false identity purposely created to successfully penetrate a target's defences. It was all a tower of lies and deceit. I have no idea what the real Tom Quinn was like. It might not even be his real name...who knows indeed?" Zoe answered bitterly.

"He gave his life for you and your son. He must have loved you, darling. That part of it all was true..."

Zoe did not reply for a while and then: "Tomorrow morning, can you keep an eye on Andreas? There's something I must do."

"Sure."

"Maybe Dad and you could take him out for the day?"

"Dad won't be back. He's...got something on..."

"I thought he went out with Liam for a few beers..."

"Yeah, well...he did. But he's got some business on tomorrow," Annie answered vaguely. Zoe shot her a piercing look, but she did not question her mother further. "You go and do whatever you like tomorrow. Andreas and I will have a ball.  Don't worry. You look washed out, sweetie. Why not take a sleeping pill and get your head down?"

"No pills. I have to learn to sleep naturally. Yeah, I'll turn in, Mum. Thanks for everything. I'm sorry I kept Tom a secret. I thought he'd be able meet you in the New Year. You'd have liked him very much. He was just your sort of guy. Jesus! I hate saying 'was'..." Zoe wandered off with a wave of her hand to acknowledge goodnight. Annie sighed.

Zoe was not looking or sounding good. But time was the healer and they would have to be patient. Her daughter would recover. She was too strong a woman for this to keep her down.

And Sergei Litvinov was a formidable man. In time, Zoe would surely come to see that for herself.

 

*

 

"Here ya go...get that down you..." Terry placed the two pints of beer on the table and sat down opposite his son. "Ya know, this bit about not going to the bar in case someone recognises you sure works in your favour, ya cheapskate. Do you ever pay for anything these days?" he laughed.

Liam smirked. "Good one, eh? Stop whinging. I'll give you a tenner next round. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little tête-à-tête? Something up?"

"Do I have to have a reason to go out for a drink with my son?" Terry replied.

Liam looked unconvinced. "Yeah. We could have had a few beers at home and you wouldn't have had to put up with a noisy bar. You wanted to get away from Mum and Zoe - and you didn't want Jake or Abigail around either...Ergo, you must have had a reason.."

"How is that odd little threesome coming along?" Terry inquired, slightly changing the subject. 

Liam merely grinned."You've got a very dirty mind. Abigail and Jake are just friends..."

"I thought you said you and Abigail were just friends but from the noises coming from your bedroom over Christmas I would say your definition of friendship differed from mine..."

"Abigail and I are friends -with benefits..." Liam added. "So, stop prevaricating. What's up?"

Terry took a drink from his pint. Liam was no fool. "I need your help."

"Yeah?" The response was brief but Liam's body language immediately revealed an eagerness that his words did not describe. "Help? What sort of help? I thought the danger was over..."

Terry sighed. "It's time you were given the full story, Liam. I apologise if there are things you feel you should have known already. A lot has happened in the past few months. They were mostly Zoe's secrets and I didn't think it appropriate to discuss them with anyone, even you. But I may have been wrong. Like it or not, we are all pulled into these things. So, I want to come clean and tell you exactly what has been behind all the shenanigans with your sister. It all began with a very unsavoury character called Jeremy Cuthbert..."

Liam listened to the detailed but tersely worded - and clearly euphemistic -version of events. Some he had guessed at, some he had learned from listening and reading between lines - but much of what he was told was new to him. Zoe's behaviour had been insane but a part of him realised that right from the start she had been asking for help in a way that they had all ignored. He for one had been too caught up in his own angst to see his sister's meltdown. But it had always been on the cards.

"So this Cuthbert was behind what happened now?" he interrupted.

'Yes and no. Cuthbert was the driving force but he was taken into custody by MI5 on Christmas Day."

"The Siphos guy, Gil O' Brien took over then?" Liam suggested.

"No. He's better than I thought but he wouldn't have had the capabilities to double for Cuthbert at this level. No, there was someone else pulling the strings. During the monitoring before we went in, we picked up that there was a woman in charge. They mentioned a 'she'."

"Who? Cuthbert had a partner?"

"Apparently. I had no means of knowing. She was not in the house - nor was O'Brien. I've put out a watch for him but he's vanished into thin air. Whoever this woman is, she must have assisted him. All along I have suspected she had to have government contacts. They were all over MI5..."

"Surely MI5 knows about her then? I'll bet they pull O'Brien in and get her through him..."

Terry shook his head. "That's what I was hoping. They lost a senior officer and have to be gunning for the team behind all this, not to mention the loss of face they suffered to have been so comprehensively played by these renegades. But things have taken a bizarre turn. I received this mail today..."

He showed Liam a mail on his Blackberry. It revealed nothing more than a name and an address in deepest Cornwall.

"Who sent this? What does it mean?" Liam frowned.

"No idea of its origin. Dino ran a check and it came from a coded server. My guess is MI5. The girl who worked with us was bitter about her boss's death. Maybe she decided to give us something."

Liam still looked doubtful. "Why tell you? They wouldn't want your interference. And how do you know this is the woman involved anyway? It's a bit of a stretch, Dad..."

Terry said nothing for a while, pausing before he began. But he had decided to be open with his son, and this was the moment of truth. "Because I know the woman whose name is on the mail. Tessa Phillips. Met her years ago at the very start of my intelligence career. She was MI6 then but I believe latterly she has been a senior officer with British intelligence at Five. I suspect she was Cuthbert's partner. And I think I know why. For some reason, Five can't do anything about her. Probably she's given them Cuthbert and done a deal. Granted immunity from prosecution so their hands are tied. So, they do the usual thing. Leak the intel..."

"What, so you can off her on their behalf? Christ, are you mental, Dad? You can't go around like a bloody vigilante! They'll let you at her and then rope you in as the scapegoat...this is insane..."

Terry smiled. "You're not wrong, Liam. If I act on this as they expect, I could be walking straight into a very unpleasant trap. I don't intend to fall for it. It is not my aim to harm the woman, whatever she has done. Years ago, maybe I would have acted irrationally and gone in guns blazing, but that's not my style anymore. But I still need to know why she did this to me..."

"You? She did it to Zoe, not you," Liam pointed out.

"She knew Zoe was my daughter."

"So? Why would she have some reason to hurt you through your daughter...unless... Christ, Dad, when did you know her? And how exactly did you know her? What are you really saying?"

Terry's face already told him what he needed to know. "We worked together. Undercover. Israel in the bad old days. Things happened between us that were probably ill-advised in the circumstances..."

"You fucked her?" Liam asked crudely. 

Terry winced. "We became lovers. On our return, we stayed together for a while but other things intervened and I left her..."

"Other things?"

"Penny was pregnant. I did the decent thing and married her..."

"Christ! You were shagging the two of them at the same time? You dog, you..." Liam exclaimed in amusement.

"Not funny, Liam. But yeah, I was supposed to be with Penny at this point but we hadn't been getting on particularly well. Frankly, I wanted out. Then she got pregnant. She was so desperate - so I married her..."

"I thought I was a nong," Liam observed. "You were in love with another woman? Why on earth did you marry Penny then? You must have known it would be a disaster!"

Terry shrugged. "Times were different. And Tessa and I were never going to happen in the long run. She was too career-fixated. So was I. And my career would have been down the toilet if I left Penny in the lurch. Her father was my commanding officer..."

"Fucking hell, Dad! You married Penny to save your career. That's immoral..."

His father ran a hand down his face. "It wasn't quite like that at the time. I cared about Penny. She loved me. She was so determined to have my child and be strong. I had to help her. I was naive enough to think I could work it out. That the baby would bring us together...I was proud of Henry. I wanted to be a good father..."

Liam was amazed at this. His Dad had been a young guy caught up in a mess of his own making and trying to do the best he could, but only succeeding in making things worse for them all. It was hard to picture the man he knew now back in a time when he had been a randy young soldier, struggling against his ambition, his libido and his sense of honour. There was something comforting about it all, though, to realise his father had not always got everything right. Terry Thorne was human after all. "Does Mum know all this?" Liam asked.

"Some. Well, not a lot, to be honest. I never told her about Tessa and I doubt she realises that I wasn't in love with Penny from the start. I'd prefer if you kept this to yourself, Liam. There's not much point in going over all this old ground now..."

"Then why tell me now?" Liam's reply was logical. Why involve anyone from the family indeed?

"I want you to come with me when I visit Tessa. I need someone with me. I can't do this alone..."

"Are you going to kill this woman?" Liam asked, appalled.

Terry grinned. "Come on! I told you I wasn't! I just want to see her. To ask her why, after all these years, she would do this to my daughter. There has to be an element of punishment in it or it makes no sense. I know I let her down back then, but we didn't part on bad terms. She knew she couldn't promise me anything and that I was only trying to do the decent thing by Penny, even if she didn't agree with my decision. I want to know what has changed in her that she could order the deaths of my daughter and grandson as well as potentially commit an act of treason against the country she has served so well all her career. I don't want to ask Harry to do this. He's got his hands full with the new babies - and I don't want him to know that I only married his mother because she was pregnant with him. He believes we were in love once. So does Penny. I cared about her but, in truth, it was never really love. Just an adventure with an upper class girl that went too far. None of them needs to know that now. What good would it do?"

"You want me there. Why?" Liam returned his father to the matter in hand.

"Because I trust you. Because you're the only man I can rely on for this. And because you need to know that I have messed up in my life, too. Done worse things than you. Made worse mistakes than you. Much, much worse. You're a fine man, Liam. I admire and respect you. Yet I always get the impression you think I don't. It's time we got to know each other as men. This seemed to be one way of facilitating it..."

Liam grinned wider than ever. "How come you have to make everything sound like a bloody business report? Facilitate? What the fuck? I'm your son. If I come with you, it's for one reason and one reason only. Because I love you. All you had to do was ask, Dad...Now, on that note, I think you can go get us another round, huh?"

 

*

 

It was the sort of street that in London constitutes a good address, but in other areas of the country would have been little more than a rather old-fashioned row of Edwardian terraces. In the high end real estate market of the city, however, no one was still living in these places who could not afford to renovate and modernise and turn the traditional elegance into a facade for interior designers. Each property was perfectly appointed, double glazed, recently painted, small gardens well-tended, windows cleaned, alarm systems serviced - it was the world of well-paid young professionals. Men and women of privilege, like Tom Quinn, Cambridge First and Rowing Blue.

West Kensington. Number 34, Albany Avenue. Zoe stood before the home, aware only that this was the address Tom had mentioned in one of his unusual moments of candour. Unless he had been lying, of course, and this was merely part of the legend he had set up to fool her. But she had to start somewhere, and this seemed to be the most obvious place. Not that she was entirely sure what she was looking for, in tracking back over the life of a dead lover who may never have told her a single word of truth in the first place. Perhaps that was the real point of her Odyssey. Until she could establish for herself if the man she had known had in any way been the real man, she could not find a way to grieve for him or accept that he was gone.

What now? She could hardly go and knock on doors, inquiring of neighbours if this had been Tom's home. He had already told her that he was known officially by one of his pseudonyms, that all bills and statements were sent to that address in a false name. His neighbours would know him as someone else, a computer programmer called Matthew Archer. That hardly seemed the right way to go about finding the real Tom Quinn.

In the end, she decided simply to knock on the door of the house itself. After all, if Tom had picked an address out of thin air, then perhaps it was owned by some innocent member of the public, or a safe house used as a front by agents under cover. If so, she would soon enough have confirmation that everything he had said had been a tissue of lies. After that, the trail was dead. Short of storming up to Thames House and demanding some answers - no doubt ending in her arrest for trespass - there was absolutely no other way she would be able to find any link to the man she had thought she loved. His whole life would have vanished into thin air the moment he had shot off the cliff top.

Zoe pushed on the small white gate, walked up the neatly paved pathway, and rang at the doorbell. An expectant silence seemed to hang over the place. She looked about her; even the street was inexplicably empty all of a sudden. A cold wind blew forlornly. It was a grey morning in mid January. She shivered in her warm wool coat. Imagine the waters of the firth? It was odd how that thought seemed to plague her dreams even more than the cruel clanging of metal, the explosion of the fuel tank and the terrible injuries he must have sustained in such an accident. Only the dark, forbidding ice-cold stormy waters preyed on her mind. So cold. She prayed he had been dead before he had hit them.

With her mind dwelling on those dark images, the opening of the front door took her by complete surprise, making her gasp, as if she half expected to see Tom himself standing there. The woman at the other side of the door made a similar exclamation. They both looked at each other suspiciously and in that instant, Zoe knew she was in the right place. Even if this was his wife or girlfriend, hidden all the time from her to protect his story, at least one thing he had told her was true. Tom Quinn had lived in this house.

"Yes?" The other woman recovered sufficiently to remember herself. She was a delicate, slim girl, pretty rather than beautiful, with shiny straight black hair pulled back into a girlish pony tail, a pale freckly face devoid of makeup, striking blue eyes, and a wide expressive mouth. Zoe guessed they were of a similar age. The girl was dressed in jeans and a warm jacket, a scarf around her neck and her gloves still on. Either she had been on her way out, or she had not been planning on staying long. Her furtive expression suggested she too had been caught by surprise; Zoe wondered if this woman too was not supposed to be here.

"I was just wondering if this was Tom Quinn's house. Or perhaps you know him as Matthew Archer...or someone else..." her voice trailed off absurdly.

The woman continued to study her carefully before answering. "Are you his girlfriend?"

That took Zoe by surprise. She had expected the woman to be claiming that privilege.

"Er...well, I knew him. I suppose...Maybe...I'm not sure..." was all she could say as a reply.

"Do you work with him? Are you one of them?" The way she said 'them', as if it was something distasteful, seemed to speak volumes. 

"No. I'm not with the government."

"Do you know how he died?"

Zoe nodded. "Yes."

"That's more than I know then. Do you want to come in? I'm trespassing as it is, so you might as well join me..."

The woman stepped back opening the door wider to allow Zoe to enter Tom's private world. She stood for a moment on the doorstep, looking around the hall. It was stylish, minimalist, coolly masculine. Much like Tom.

"He'd made a lot of changes," the other woman observed. "Repainted, got rid of a lot of clutter. I suppose that's symbolic. You don't know me. My name's Ellie. I lived here with Tom for eighteen months. Hadn't seen him in two years..." Ellie put out her hand to shake Zoe's. They did so, awkwardly.

"Ellie? He mentioned you. You and your little girl. He spoke fondly of you both. My name's Zoe..."

Ellie smiled absently. "I suppose he told you how I ran out on him? I know he was very hurt. It was very painful for me, too. God knows, I didn't want to leave him. I loved him. Maisie, my daughter, still misses him. He was the nearest thing to a father she ever knew. Her own Dad doesn't give a shit..."

"Why did you then? I mean why did you leave him, if it still hurts?" Zoe observed honestly. She wasn't sure she could understand women who put logic before love. It certainly wasn't her style.

"Why?" Ellie exclaimed, running a hand through her hair. "Well, this about sums it up, doesn't it? Because I couldn't stand sharing him with his other mistress. The British Bloody Government. Because I knew that one day it would come to this and I would be standing by his grave...except he won't have one, will he? There's not even a body to bury. Christ, can you imagine that?"

Ellie sat down on the hall stairs and hid her face in her hands. "I didn't want to hang around biding the time until some man knocked on the door to tell me he was dead. So I broke it off before we went too far. I know he was upset. He came round to my mother's house, trying to beg me to come back. Even just to let him say goodbye to Maisie. But I wouldn't let him...I wouldn't let him...!" Her voice broke into a sob as she buried her head against her knees.

Zoe felt oddly detached from the woman's grief. She still had to find her own before she could empathise with what seemed to her to have been an oddly selfish act on Ellie's part, running away at the cost of the happiness of three people. What exactly had her escape gained?

"And do you feel better now to have been vindicated? I mean, would you have felt any worse had you stayed, than you do right now?' Zoe wondered out loud. "All that wasted time when you must have both been miserable. All those lonely nights when you could have been together. Tom's dead and where are you? Here, making a pilgrimage to the home you once shared. Crying in his hallway. So what's the difference? I don't understand you," she added, aware that her response might seem cruel. It was not meant to be. She was only trying to work it all out.

Ellie lifted up her head. "It's easy for you to say. How long had you known him? You hadn't been through what Maisie and I had! We nearly died because of his damn job! If you had had a real taste of that world, then you wouldn't be so superior about it!"

Zoe sat down on the floor in front of Ellie, reaching out and taking her hand. "I didn't mean to make it worse. I know exactly what you'd been through. I know a lot about such things, you see. It's been my life, too, for as long as I can remember. My Dad worked in that sort of world and my partner, the father of my son...he also inhabited that twilight zone. I just see it a little differently from you. To me, you have to snatch what you can before it's gone forever. I think you've just learned that lesson the hard way...Once you love a man, you can't save yourself from pain. No matter what he does. No matter what you do. But the greatest wrong seems to me to be wasting your lives in might-have-beens..." As she spoke, Zoe had the sensation that she was speaking more to herself than this woman she barely knew. She was also unsure exactly which man she was referring to. Nick? Tom? Sergei? Or some weird combination of all three?

"I don't know what to do!" Ellie cried. "Tom's Mum called me. There's going to be a memorial service in their village next Monday. She never liked me, you know? She thought I was too common for her precious only son. And she thought I was a little gold digger just trying to find a decent place to live and a father who could put Maisie through private school...Mrs. Quinn is an absolute old witch, isn't she? Although I expect she loves you. You look just the debby type of public school totty she'd approve for him..."

Zoe couldn't help but smile sadly. Women were so bloody stupid sometimes. It didn't matter whether they were mothers, daughters or rivals. "I never met Tom's parents. He didn't seem to think they'd approve of me either, oddly enough. Tom didn't seem to think anything he ever did would win their approval..."

"She was an old battle axe but she loved him. Tom was very bitter, though. Part of him was just a lonely little boy who couldn't forgive him Mum for never showing him affection in the way he had needed it as a child. But he was blind to the fact that she did love him in her cold, scholarly way. She was so proud of him. They both were. Neither really could believe they had produced this shining star, this young man who was so handsome, clever, talented, athletic, able...They set very high standards for Tom that they expected him always to supersede. He always did. Yet they always seemed to make him feel that it wasn't enough. Even so, I can't help but feel for them both now. They're getting old and their boy has gone before them. No parent should bury a child." They were both mothers. It was a sobering thought.

Ellie pulled herself up, blowing her nose on an already sodden tissue. "Come on, let's have a cuppa. I picked up some milk on the way. I only called on the off chance. Tom had been so bloody security conscious when we lived here. I expected he'd changed the locks when I left but no, the key I had still worked and the alarm code hadn't been changed. He wasn't worried for himself. Only for us, it seems..."

Zoe followed her into the light and airy modern kitchen, looking about her as Ellie brewed up. "Can't imagine Tom in a domestic setting like this. He always seemed so detached from normal life, living such a transitory sort of existence, you know? It's hard to see him coming home from work, chatting over the kitchen table, unblocking a drain, taking out the rubbish..."

Ellie handed her a mug of tea. "Didn't you ever stay here with him?"

Zoe shook her head. "Never been here until today. I only knew his address because once he mentioned it, in a moment of weakness. It's complicated. Actually, Tom met me when I became part of an investigation. He was undercover...I wasn't even sure until I met you that Tom was his real name."

Ellie rolled her eyes. "I met him through his work, too. I manage a small restaurant. This good-looking guy came in every night for two weeks for dinner. I presumed he fancied me. Later I found out he was waiting for some contact to show. Although apparently he also fancied me..."

They both laughed. Zoe remarked, "Tom had an almost monastic discipline about everything - except where one thing was concerned..."

"Boy, he sure was amorous; insatiable at times...!  You would have never guessed what a sex god he was if you sat across from him on the tube..." Ellie giggled. It was good to remember Tom like this.

Zoe had been dragged down with the memories of the awful events of that day. She had forgotten the easy, fun-filled times. And there had been many of those.

"Was he still investigating you when he died? Do you know what happened to him?"

That sobered them both up. "I was there when it happened," Zoe admitted. "It was very quick. So sudden there was hardly time to breathe. His car ran off the cliff in a hail of bullets. I don't know how he died. But he didn't suffer..." She added, although she had no idea whether or not that was true. One says that to save the feelings of others. Who was there to save her feelings?

"Were you okay?"

"I was fine. He saved me. You know something really insane? You left him because you were afraid one day things would end in tears. If you'd stayed with him and he hadn't met me, he probably would still be alive today..."

"...Or something else would have killed him," Ellie observed. "Poor Tom. All he wanted at heart was a girl waiting at home for him and a couple of babies of his own. He so wanted to have kids. We had talked about it a lot. Maisie was already seven when I met Tom. I was ready for another. We planned to get married and have a baby but then things began to turn sour between us. The more I worried about his job, the less inclined I was to get pregnant...How sad he died without ever having a child of his own! Men like Tom should always be fathers. Imagine what the gene pool has lost? Did you two plan that far ahead?"

Zoe shook her head as she sipped at her tea. "We never got past the wild passion of it all. Tom wasn't strictly honest with me, either. He wasn't able to be in the circumstances. It was complicated..."

"Everything about Tom was complicated," Ellie commented.

"Ain't that the truth!" Zoe agreed. "I think I better go, Ellie. I think I've found what I came for and I should be getting on."

"Wait! I intend to take a souvenir with me when I go. I'm never coming here again. Presumably his Mum and Dad will sell up and the house will be cleared. I'm sure no one would mind if you and I helped ourselves to something to remind us of him. We earned it! I found some pictures he had kept of us all together in the garden. Tom, Maisie and me.  Is there anything you'd like?"

They wandered through to the large bright morning room. One wall was covered in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Zoe found herself browsing them until one volume made her smile. She pulled it out, and flipped through the pages. Stuck in between the pages where Sonnet 138 was printed, was a small photograph of Zoe herself, taken from a distance, probably from some surveillance camera. It was all he had to dream about when he came home at nights. Tom had also written his name on the fly leaf of the book. At last, she had found the proof, if she still needed it, that he had indeed been born Thomas Quinn. And that he had really loved her. Holding the slim book to her heart, she told Ellie this was all she wanted to take with her.

"Shakespeare's sonnets? You never knew what to expect with Tom, did you? Fancy him being sentimental enough to buy a copy of romantic poems...!" Ellie smiled. "Take it, by all means. I'm sorry about what happened. Sorrier than I can ever say. I only wish Tom and I hadn't parted on such bad terms and that I could tell him what I really think of him. Such a fine man. I'll never meet anyone like him again. I was such a fool..."

"Ever thought of coming back again?" Zoe asked.

Ellie smiled. "Every single night before I went to sleep. I'd tell myself, tomorrow. I'll go and look him up tomorrow. See if he still wants me around...But every morning, in the light of day, I'd talk my way out of it..." She sighed heavily. "Come to the service. Please. I'd really like you to be there. So would Tom. I'm sure..."

Zoe hunched her shoulders. "I'm not sure. Maybe. I'd be rather surplus to requirements. The mystery girlfriend..."

"Please? Here, I'll write down the address..." Ellie scribbled on a pad next to the phone. Zoe stroked her hands lightly over surfaces on the bureau, touching all the everyday things in his life that he had one touched. A tight ball of grief gripped deep in her chest, threatening to choke her. There was so much she had never known or experienced about Tom Quinn, and yet Ellie had confirmed what little she had been privy to. They had indeed loved the same man. He hadn't really been in hiding from the women he cared about.

Taking the piece of paper, she folded it carefully and slipped it into the front pocket of her handbag. "Thanks, Ellie. I'm glad we met today. I'm not sure Tom would be, though. You know how men hate it when their women meet up..." They both laughed together. It was a good note to end on. Zoe reached forward and hugged the other girl, who held onto her for a moment. "I loved him very much, Ellie. So did you. At least he had that...?"

Zoe pulled away and made for the door, brushing tears from her cheeks and whispering, "Goodbye, Tom..." She would not attend the memorial. This had been her pilgrimage. It was all over now. She did not wish to turn back again and revisit that sad little chapter of her life.

 

*

 

Driving back towards the apartment, her cell phone buzzed. Pulling into the side of the road, she answered, surprised to see the name on the display.

"Bloody hell, Jamie, it must be the middle of the night..."

"Fucking right it is, boss. But babies don't seem to give a shit about inhospitable hours..."

"NO!!!!!!" Zoe screeched. "NO!!! WHEN!!! OH MY GOD!!!!"

"Oi, stop screaming! It's only a baby..." he laughed.

"Tell me everything!"

"Well, I blanked a lot out and closed my eyes at the gross bits..." 

"Jamie Farrow, you have seen enough pussy in your life not to be such a wimp...!"

"Never seen pussy like this, love. Jesus, it was like a fucking scene from Alien... I thought I was going to pass out...Anyway, Bibi was bloody fantastic. She went into labour, calmly sorted out her case, calmly talked me through the drive to the hospital because I was hyperventilating, and then went and squeezed the sprog out as cool as a cucumber. I was like a big girl, blubbing and all...Totally useless. Bibi said I was actually a liability. But I was there. I held my little girl as she came out, cut the cord - and I've hardly put her down since. Zoe, she's so beautiful! She's perfect. Perfect. How did I do something like this? How am I going to deserve them both? I'm so fucking scared I'll ruin their lives..."

"You won't. Believe me, you won't. There won't be a daddy in the world as devoted as you. Well, is she blonde? She must be with you and Bibi for parents. What did she weigh? How long was Bibi in labour? What are you going to call her? Come on, Jamie, tell me everything! I'm so excited. This is such amazingly wonderful news...!"

It was also a moment of exquisite poignancy. Ellie had just spoken of Tom's secret desire to be a father. Jamie Farrow who had always decried himself as potential father, was now embarking on that great adventure. Life was so very unpredictable. But the synchronicity of death and life in constant flux was typical. The tears of joy she shed for Jamie were also tears of sorrow for Tom.

"You okay, Zo? How's everything going on at the office? I've been out of it for awhile..." Jamie interrupted his ramblings. "You crying?"

"Yeah, I am," she sniffed. "I'm so happy for you..."

"You sure everything's okay?" She had told him nothing of what had happened in the past few weeks, other than Gil O'Brien had moved on rather suddenly and she had no idea where he was. Yet Jamie had a sixth sense. If she didn't distract him, he would guess something had gone on.This was not the time to explain. For one thing, he would go off and kill O'Brien if he knew - and at this time in his life, Zoe wanted nothing to spoil the bliss the new parents felt. The day would come when they were back together in Sydney and the waters of her life were again calm; she would then tell him everything, leaving nothing out. Jamie knew all her secrets. They would always be safe with him.

"Her name, Jamie! Have you decided on a name, yet?" Zoe returned him to the subject of his little daughter.

Jamie laughed. "In the end, Bibi decided. We both picked a list and she chose one off each...You probably think it's totally lame with all your intellectual ideas. But Bibi and I are pretty common people, as you know and..."

"Name, please...!" 

"Leila Ruby Farrow...how does that sound? Lowbrow? Pretentious? Nouveau? I liked Ruby, you see. It's kind of old fashioned...Like an old pearly queen..."

Zoe chuckled. "It sounds like a beautiful little girl with white blonde curls and a very doting Mummy and Daddy. Who am I to comment? I already love her. I can't wait to see her. Oh, Jamie...I so want to come home...!"

He went a little quiet then. They both knew that she had only come to London so that he and Bibi could be together for the birth of their child. He knew he had asked a lot of her at the time.

"You should come back. I could come over for a while..."

"Rubbish. I'll settle up here. Things are running smoothly. Dad and Dino got a real good team going for us, and I think I may have found a senior manager to run the show over here. Some guy who's worked for Dino for years. He even worked for Dad once, before he got out and went back to Oz. Some New Zealander called Niall Patterson. He wants to retire from the field and do a desk job. He's highly qualified, very experienced, trustworthy..."

"Marry him..." Jamie teased.

"He's already married. I checked. Some woman who used to work for Dad and Dino, oddly enough. When she was young, I mean...Anyway, once he's settled, I intend to fly back. Andreas needs to be back home. So do I."

"Miss you fuck loads. We all do. Look, I have to go. I'm shagged out. If I don't get a couple of hours now, I'll be good for nothing tomorrow. Just had to talk to you. Now a quick call to me old Mum and I'll hit the sack. Zoe, take care, babes. And next time, I want to hear all about your love life...who's the lucky boy of the hour...? Laters, sweetheart..."

Zoe closed the phone, dabbed at her eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror.  It had been a strange but important day. The most significant feature seemed to her to be the fact that sensation was returning to her. She was beginning to feel again. Even pain was better than nothingness.

 

*

 

He sat by the window of the hospital suite, irritated by its futile attempts to dehumanise the environment by a few bland prints on the wall and a lick of magnolia paint. An institution was still an institution. The one advantage of his first floor room, however, was that it looked out over a rural landscape, serene and picturesque even in the wintry weather. Rolling downs, dotted here and there with bare copses and woods, stretched to the limit of his vision. Somewhere past the horizon was the sea. If he ignored the pristine, sanitised order of the hospital bedroom behind him, he could almost imagine that he had merely woken up in a village in the heart of a different England, into a different life than the one he owned, even one of an earlier era, as if had stepped from the cold soullness of his modern world into the warm sunny glow of a bucolic Constable idyll.

He shifted awkwardly in the wheelchair that they insisted he used at all times other than the regular physio sessions they forced on him - and that he gladly endured. He could walk well enough already, and his leg was strengthening daily. His powers of recovery had thankfully always been good. Day by day he felt stronger, closer to regaining his former self. He wished he could say the same for his soul. There was a place inside devoid of anything but a cold, hard, shrivelled core. He did not dare prod it back to life. Whatever lay inside might destroy him if he let it out.

His memory of what had happened that day was still patchy; doctors warned him he might never regain full recall. Occasionally flashbacks beset him, hurtling across his vision faster than he could really compute them, leaving him even more confused and uneasy. His nightmares were even worse. The past few evenings, he had readily accepted the strong night time medication offered which put him deep under and gave him a dead and dreamless rest, a respite from the fevered dreams of the first week or so.

Tom Quinn knew that he was alive and that he was alive only because of Adam Carter, who had already been deployed that day to take up a position on that fateful road, the only possible place for a rendezvous, hidden beneath the road on a gully in the cliff face. They had set this up together, with Pearce's knowledge, in an alternative plan ready for such an occurrence. Pearce had actively encouraged such an interception to take place because he had wanted all along to smash this cell that Cuthbert had formed and which he now believed was being led by Tessa Philips.  They had expected an attempt on Zoe to take place. The plan was for Tom to extricate himself so that Zoe was taken alone and they could track her. It had been not intended, however, for him to make his fiery dive off a cliff, though. All he had been required to do was fake a handover of the data to Zoe so that she would be removed and they might have a link to the whereabouts of the targets - and then get out.

To be fair, no one had foreseen the kidnap of the child, which had been a very basic oversight. When it occurred, it had changed everything. Tom had realised then that Zoe would now never forgive him - and also that he would never recover from losing her. His head had already been fucked long before he met her. This latest disappointment was the last straw in a long line of last straws.

But Tom had forgotten about Adam, or rather, he had presumed his own death was inevitable. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he had presumed that if by some miraculous chance he did escape then he would simply disappear, be free of them all. Missing, presumed dead. He could set up a new identity for himself and make a new start. If he had survived. But he hadn't expected to. Obviously, Carter must have observed what had happened from near enough to intervene and when the car had hit the water, he had gone to his aid. He supposed he would have done the same if the circumstances had been reversed. Yet it was little comfort to him.

All he could remember about the incident was waking up to find Carter resuscitating him. He had vomited, mostly sea water, and known immediately that he was alive. The numbing cold that almost paralysed him had shielded him from the worst of the pain. His many injuries did not become evident until much later; initially paramedics had been more concerned about raising his temperature and the dangers of hypothermia. But those factors, of course, had played their own part in saving his life: the near freezing water had slowed down his heart beat and the rate of blood loss. Carter had applied immediate and life-saving treatment, wrapped him in an insulating foil blanket and awaited the arrival of the medical team. All the while, Tom had been passing in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of what had taken place. All he did know was that he probably should have died; he had wanted to die. It seemed Adam Carter, however, had decided that he was going to keep him alive.

And so here he was: recuperating in a top secret military hospital on the South Downs, registered under a false name. He had no idea what had happened or how his case was being viewed back at the Grid. Only Harry and Carter had known that his feigned act of treason against them had itself been faked. It was entirely possible that he may be treated in absentia as a scapegoat, given some secret pardon but treated in public like a traitor. It didn't much matter to him anyway. His career was over as much by choice as anything else. No doubt he would eventually find out what was in store for him professionally, but he already planned to make his own getaway. That was one of the reasons it was so important that he regained his strength. It was entirely possibly he might have to escape and go on the run if things went badly for him. He had no intention of answering for his behaviour before any tribunal, public or private, that was for sure.

As the days had passed, however, he had found himself obsessed with the outcome of the operation. He had not been told a thing about the consequences. For all he knew Zoe and her son could be dead and what he had done might all have been for nothing. He was enough of a realist to know that there was nothing he could do now to change that if it had already happened, so he concentrated instead on his recovery. If anything had happened to her, there were people out there who would pay. He needed to be strong if he was going to be called on to mete out justice. But despite his determination, the lack of knowledge was killing him.

So he sat, day after day, in his chair by the window and let his mind play out its course, a meandering slideshow of images and moments. Zoe was centre-stage in everything, the secret place he stole away to in his mind for comfort. At least his memories of her were intact, made even more vivid now by the rosy hues of loneliness, isolation and distance. There had been a time when he had known love and warmth and peace and happiness, even if only for a short period. She was still worth it. He would never regret having known her.

Just then the door behind him opened softly, a click betraying the arrival of some unidentified person. He knew at once that this was not a nurse or other medical personnel. They invariably burst in with their officious and business-like style, giving him the impression that they expected to catch him up to no good, or at the very least make him realise that he was just a number on a file to them, dehumanised to nothing but an assemblage of failing body parts that needed repair.

"Harry, I presume?" Tom said quietly without turning his head.

"Indeed. Good to see you, Tom...the doctors are very pleased with your progress. We'll have you out of here in no time..."

Tom swung the chair round, set the brake and hauled himself out of it. Harry Pearce stepped forward offering him a hand that he rejected with a grunt of annoyance. He preferred staggering to taking assistance from anyone. Adjusting his stance, sparing his right leg, he found his balance, not an easy matter with one arm in a splint and the other strapped up to spare his shoulder. The bullet had gone right through and was healing nicely although it still impeded his movement; the double fracture of his right arm, however, was much more troublesome, and made simple tasks like feeding himself or urination a further humiliation. But at least he would stand tall on Harry, looking down from the benefit of his six foot three.

"Well, give it to me straight, Harry. What's the verdict?" he began with a sharp edge of mockery in his voice, ignoring the hand that Harry extended to shake.

Harry nodded and looked around for a chair, pulling one up and sitting down. "I'm not sure I understand your meaning fully, Tom. I'm here as a friend..."

Tom began to laugh. "Oh really? Then why am I being held here under a false name, out of contact with the world and behind a door that is always kept locked? And please don't say for my own good. I grew out of the need for a nanny years ago..."

"You are not a prisoner. But you are being kept under wraps. I'll explain why later. But, I thought it was your decision to fake your own death..."

"I wanted her to believe I was dead! After all I put her through that's the least, she deserved to spare her! And by the way, were you planning on telling me whether or not she's still alive? I've been here for days and days and no one has even thought of letting me know...Do you know how that makes me feel?" He shouted.

Harry's colour rose. "I'm sorry. I thought Adam explained. Perhaps you were beyond understanding it at the time. Zoe Thorne and her son are safe. The operation was a partial success in that we broke the gang but O'Brien escaped. Phillips is beyond our control. We have no proof she was behind it and her Queen's evidence against Cuthbert grants her complete indemnity from prosecution on other charges..."

"You cannot be serious? The woman was the mastermind! You know she was!"

Harry shrugged. "You know how it is. My hands are tied. I daren't even make some private arrangements although I have done the little I can. It seems Tess has some influential friends. We're being watched. I'm sorry. I know how this must make you feel..."

"You have no bloody idea how I feel about anything, with the greatest respect, sir!" Tom retorted. "So, what happens to me then?"

Harry took a deep breath, letting the air escape slowly. "Nothing. You did your job in an exemplary fashion considering the pressure you were under, and the resolution was more than satisfactory. Nick Costello's information was retrieved and is in our hands now. The girl and her son are safe and have been returned to the bosom of their family. Job well done."

"I thought I was dead. Or on the run. Have you squared what happened with the department? Is everyone now aware that I did not actually abscond with the intel but was acting on your orders all along..?"

To that Harry demurred. "Well, that is not exactly what transpired, is it, Tom? You made a rather startling departure from the plan. And that did change everything. I have to admit that."

"Change everything? How so?"

"You want it straight? No bollocks? I don't believe you're a safe pair of hands anymore, Tom. I stood up and defended you the last time you went walkabout, and as a result you were fully reinstated. But I don't think that your return has been a success all in all. I'm not sure you ever really got past the stumbling blocks that were inhibiting you back then. I am not alone in that opinion, either. It is shared by Adam Carter for one...and other people who determine the future of the department and its members..."

"I did everything asked of me. Why is that not enough?"

"You let her get to you. This is not the first time you have allowed your personal opinions and private emotions to cloud your judgment..."

"I was right about her!" Tom insisted.

"I agree that your assessment of her risk factor was accurate. But you manipulated your brief to safeguard her above the security of the operation and the team. The agenda in your head was rather different from the one we were all working to."

"What the bloody hell does it matter if I still do the damn job? How do you ever know what's in a man's mind anyway?"

"It matters. Apart from the fact it is an indicator of a whole battery of issues I have with your state of mind, it also brings your loyalty into question. There is no place for private emotions in public service. That is what we sign up to when we become a member of the department and it is what you demand of all those who serve under your command!" Harry countered forcefully. He would never be browbeaten no matter how much sympathy he felt for Tom Quinn as a man and a friend.

"And where is it written that an officer is not allowed a wife and a family and a private life? I fell in love with a woman. I'm glad I did. It shows I'm not quite dead yet, unlike dried up, bitter soulless men like you...and Cuthbert...you know something, I can hardly tell any of you apart any more."

"My point, exactly, Tom. I think that makes it case proven," Harry added coldly.

He stood up, walking to the window, looking out over the scene Tom had been surveying when he walked in. "Lovely part of the world, eh?"

"You still haven't answered my question. What happens to me now?"

Harry did not speak for a while, appearing to be enjoying the scenery. Suddenly he span round. "You have made your own mind up. You faked your death. We have supported you in that. It simplifies matters. No need for explanations, inquiries, tribunals. It appears you went rogue and died in the process. It is a shame, a fine officer like you, but in the circumstances the best thing for all. Honourable mention, of course, impeccable service record et cetera, et cetera, discreet presence at the memorial service, department drink up in your honour...the usual..."

"They all think I'm dead? What about my parents? You informed them of my death? You bastard..." Tom took a step forward, moving too quickly, a sharp pain jabbing his leg and causing him to fall sideward. This time he could not prevent Harry catching him and gently easing him back into the wheelchair. Once seated, he shook away the holding arm. "My parents think I'm dead? How is that right?"

"I'm sorry, Tom. That is the course of action that we took. Only a very small number of people, none in the department but Carter, are aware you survived. It is up to you whether you decide to allow that to stand."

"Up to me?" Tom asked. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

Harry placed his chair close to Tom's and sat back down again, avuncular in his demeanour, placing a caring hand on the other man's leg. "I mean what I say. You are free to walk out of here when you are stronger and go back to your normal life. You may not, of course, contact any members of your former career again and, as far as the department is concerned, you no longer exist. But Tom Quinn would. We leave you free to conduct your life as a citizen of Britain with no restrictions, other than those you promised to adhere to when you signed the Official Secrets' Act. In that event, you may choose to reveal the good news to your parents, if you wish. I always thought you weren't close anyway...?"

"They are still my parents, Harry, for Christ's sake! So, that's it. I don't think so somehow. Why have you gone to this elaborate subterfuge? And don't give me the shit about avoiding any disciplinary action. You could do that anyway just by sacking me. That's the usual neat and tidy answer. None of this would ever go to any inquiry unless you wanted it to. What other options do I have? You told me it was up to me. I can walk out - or? Or - what? What do you really want of me?"

Harry patted Tom's need paternally. This was the rub. If he could talk Tom into what the Joint Chiefs of Staff and SIS had indicated, then Tom Quinn was in a perfect position to become one of the most valuable undercover officers of the post war period. His skills were widely acknowledged even amongst those who doubted his suitability for the discipline of the Service. Tom Quinn had become too much of a renegade, a free thinker who went his own way, believing himself more principled than his politically-motivated masters. So be