The Accidental Warrior Page 22

  CHAPTER 36

  The following day Mike, Derek and Kate met at Harriet’s cottage. Mike was the first to arrive.

  “Afternoon. Great tree. It looks and smells of Christmas in here.”

  “Well, that’s because it is almost Christmas, Mike. You look different, but in a good way. You’ve cut your hair, ditched the mac, bought a new suit, and you’re not swearing anything like as much. Come on, who is she?” Harriet teased.

  “And I thought I’d been discreet. Was it the aftershave that gave it away?” Mike quipped.

  “Come on, Taylor, spill the beans.”

  “Okay, okay, but don’t say a word to the others, please. It’s early days, but I’ve struck up a friendship with Annie Gittings.”

  “Oh, that’s so great.” Harriet clapped her hands together as the doorbell sounded and Mike put his finger to his lips.

  Once everyone had been served with coffee and mince pies, they got down to business.

  “Good old GCHQ, it didn’t take them long to crack the code. Indeed, I’m led to believe that it wasn’t sophisticated, but it did the job. Apparently Troy aligned each letter of the alphabet to a number; simple but effective, so my name, Derek Wynn, is 4518511 – 23261414.”

  “Can you run through how it works again?” Harriet crouched next to Derek and his note book.

  “Troy numbered each letter of the alphabet, so A =1, B=2, and so on.”

  “So, my name in numbers,” said Harriet, scribbling on a piece of paper, “would be 8118189520-1213526?”

  Pausing to work it out, Derek replied, “Yes, spot on.”

  “Anyway, the book is full of names of high profile barristers, judges, bankers, politicians and CEOs. There are bank accounts, details of scams, the location of compromising photos and much, much more. Anyone like to guess as to the mastermind of all this?” asked Derek.

  Harriet and Mike simultaneously shook their heads.

  “A senior Cabinet Minister. I’m not going to name him. The fewer who know, the less chance of a leak.”

  “Fair enough,” said Mike.

  “Oh, good God,” said Harriet. “Is there enough evidence to prosecute?”

  “Yes, and I imagine it will hit the papers after Christmas. ‘Government Minister charged with conspiracy to murder’ and so on… Excitement aside though, we must not speak of this to anyone. It’s huge and needs to be handled with the utmost care if we are to be confident of successful prosecutions. So the plan is this: enjoy Christmas, and when we return at the beginning of January we start the complex and laborious process of compiling files of evidence to present to the Crown Prosecution Service.”

  “Derek, I really think we should at least attempt to speak to Cleo before Christmas. There are so many lines of enquiry that we can’t pursue until we have,” said Mike.

  “Mike, I share your frustration, but I would urge caution. Cleo is manipulative. If you are to speak to her you’ll need to be incredibly prudent. If she can exploit a situation she will. You certainly can’t go alone.”

  Harriet exchanged glances with Kate. “I totally agree. You’ve already assumed that she will want to speak to you. Believe me, she will weigh up whether there is any advantage for her to do so. She is cold and calculating,” said Kate.

  “Okay, I’m minded to let you go to the hospital, Mike, but only in Kate’s company. You may talk to medical staff and get an idea of when she can be moved and when she can be spoken to formally. If the opportunity arises you can try to have a few words with her, just to get a measure of how cooperative she’s likely to be. But under no circumstances are you to conduct an interview with her. All our dealings with Cleo must be by the book. We cannot afford any procedural issues or anomalies. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, and thanks, boss.”

  The following morning Mike and Kate drove to Surrey. They spoke to staff. Cleo, it appeared, was a model patient, nothing but compliant. But she had not spoken since regaining consciousness.

  Cleo’s room was situated on the second floor of the hospital. As they approached, Kate could see the blinds were closed. There was an armed officer just outside the door. The room was dimly lit, Kate could just make out an outline in the bed. Inexplicably she had a strong desire to flee. She took a deep breath and sat down, not wanting to disturb the sleeping patient. Somewhat absentmindedly though she found herself focusing on the figure in the bed. Something wasn’t quite right, and it wasn’t long before she realised that breathing was absent. The body wasn’t moving at all. Almost at the same moment Mike jumped to his feet, having noticed the wall of monitors were eerily silent; they’d been unplugged. Pulling the covers back they found a female lying on her side, but it wasn’t Cleo. Mike ran to the door to raise the alarm, then got straight on the phone to Derek.

  “Boss, we have a fucking huge problem, Cleo’s disappeared.”

  “Shit, what do you mean?”

  “Disappeared, fucking vanished.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “We’re not sure.” Mike drew heavily on his cigarette.

  “How? When? Oh, my God. Harriet.”

  “Oh, bloody hell, you don’t think she’d make straight for her, do you? There is a chance she’s still in the hospital, they’ve locked it down to search for her.”

  “I don’t know but we can’t afford to take the risk. I’m on my way to her cottage now. Keep me updated, will you?”

  Kate tried Harriet on her mobile, but it was engaged. A few minutes later she tried again, but it went straight to answer-phone. She left a message. Unable to focus, she paced up and down, increasingly frustrated by the lockdown. She tried to put herself in the mind of Cleo. Still weak and poorly, would she really make straight for Harriet? Cleo liked to be in control, she needed to follow a carefully worked-out plan. Kate tried Harriet’s mobile again, but it went straight to voicemail. Might it depend on how impatient Cleo was to conclude her feud with Harriet as to whether she made a move or not now? It had started to sleet. The clock on the wall just served to remind her that time was ticking by and, so far, there was no word on Harriet. Unable to settle, she went in search of Mike.

  CHAPTER 37

  Harriet called Ben and Amelia in from the garden, for it had begun to sleet. Excitedly, they charged into the kitchen with their new puppy Archie, a black miniature Schnauzer, who looked more like a fluffy teddy bear than a dog. Energetic, bright, and eager to please, the children were besotted with him.

  Before Harriet’s mother Jane had left for America earlier that morning she’d handed Harriet a small envelope.

  “Darling, this is from your Dad. He prepared it many years ago when he was first diagnosed with dementia. He made me promise to give it to you if I outlived him. I’ve absolutely no idea what it contains. Good luck my love, see you in a few weeks.” And with that her mother kissed her tenderly and left.

  Unable to contain her curiosity Harriet carefully opened the envelope. Inside were two pieces of paper. The first: a letter from her father’s Bank Manager Mr Berry, dated the year of her birth.

  Dear Mr Rayfield, I write to confirm that you have today deposited with us a sealed envelope, reference number 0086. Yours sincerely Mr M Berry.

  There was also a copy of an official bank document entitled ‘Safe Custody Agreement.’ It contained the branch and sort code of the bank:

  Customer George Rayfield requests the package identified as 0086 is held by the bank for a year and then after from year to year until the agreement is terminated. Termination of the agreement should be permitted on the instruction of George Rayfield.

  There was a later addendum: Or Mrs Harriet Lacey, nee Rayfield.It was signed and dated by her father.

  With some trepidation Harriet picked up the phone, but it soon became apparent that it was no simple matter to speak to the local branch of the bank. Having overcome the automated system, she was eventually transferred.

  “Good morning, my name’s Helen, how may I help you?” said a bright and breezy voic
e.

  “Good morning. I’m an account holder at your branch.” Harriet paused, “You know, this is a first, I’m not actually sure how to explain.” She paused again. “Okay, I have in front of me a document which shows that some time ago my father took out a safety deposit box. He has recently passed away and I’d like to access the contents of the box. I do have written authorisation to do so. Could you possibly confirm that the box exists and that I may take possession of its contents?”

  “Well, this is a first for both of us. I’m a mortgage consultant, but if you bear with me I’ll seek some guidance and will certainly make enquiries for you,” said Helen.

  Placed on hold, Harriet had no choice but to listen to the piped music. After what seemed like an eternity but was in fact twenty minutes, Helen came back on the line.

  “Mrs Lacey, I can confirm the existence of box 0086 which does indeed contain a package of some description. To access it you will need to bring your letter of authorisation and passport for identification purposes.”

  “That’s brilliant, Helen, thank you for all your help.”

  An hour later Harriet was standing by the kitchen window with package in hand. The sleet was falling hard and fast outside. On the chalk escarpment she could just make out a stationary figure; he was facing the cottage. Glancing briefly at the man, Harriet turned her attention to the package in her hand, a red leather case about the size of an A5 envelope. Opening the lid with a trembling hand, she discovered a folded hand-written note. As she handled it a stone disc fell to the floor.

  My dearest darling Harriet, do not be sad, for I am at peace now. Do not grieve, for it was my time to go. I spent many years searching for archaeological evidence to put this into context. I fully intended to publish my findings, but as time went on I changed my mind, concluding that it was not my place to do so. I now truly believe that some things are best left undisturbed. You have the distinct honour of being a direct descendant of Thessalonica, daughter of King Philip and his third wife Nicesipolis of Thessaly. Thessalonica was chosen by her father to be the custodian of his signet ring. It symbolises the legitimacy of his line to rule. It’s now your turn to protect it. It is with huge pride that I sign out. With much love, Dad.

  Hot salty tears rolled down Harriet’s cheeks as she grappled with her emotions. Carefully she lifted a beautifully crafted gold necklace from the box. The pendant, approximately the size of a two-pound coin, had a sixteen-point sun carved onto its face and a large sapphire mounted in its centre. And, as described, she also found a heavy gold signet ring in the box, carved with the same sun motif and inlaid with a large diamond. She took a sharp intake of breath, reflecting that she was not ‘an accidental warrior’ after all. For now, it was abundantly clear it was in her blood, her DNA. For a moment, she marvelled at her heritage, struck by the realisation that with this legacy came enormous responsibility. She wondered if it had been her destiny, her fate all along? But her thoughts were rudely interrupted.

  “Mum, Mum,” shouted Ben from the direction of the lounge. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  THE QUEST

  The second thriller in the Harriet Lacey series,

  out in June 2021

  Cyrus Hart has uncovered a medieval bible amongst the personal belongings of his late Great Uncle. Whilst examining it, he discovers a map inserted deep under the leather cover. The map contains a symbol he recognises but can’t place and a series of castles located in the Mediterranean and Middle East. His painstaking research reveals a distant relative, William of Hertford who lived in the mid-to late-1100s and was educated in the Monastery at St. Albans. In early adulthood however, he left the Benedictine Order to join the Knights Templars and travelled to the Holy Land with a man called Robert to join the Crusades.

  Further research by Cyrus indicates that William and Robert were inseparable, fighting side by side for many years. They were highly decorated, respected by Christians and Muslims alike for their courage in battle. But, in 1185 they seem to have suddenly gone their separate ways. Unable to establish why, and convinced that the map belonged to William, Cyrus approaches Detective Sergeant Harriet Lacey with a view to persuading her to take some leave and to use her investigative skills in his quest. Harriet is reluctant at first, but when Cyrus offers to help her find out what happened to her estranged husband Nick, who suddenly and mysteriously disappeared, she comes on board.

  Never far away is Cleo Morris. Filled with hatred and bile for Harriet, she plots her revenge and it’s not long before she becomes a danger. But, she’s not the only threat, for there are others following Harriet and Cyrus through Europe and the Middle East. As time goes by they find themselves in increasing peril. Cleo unwittingly gets caught up in the action and has to decide just how much she loathes Harriet.