The Fixer stood, indicating that the meeting was over.
“Well Gordon… it sounds as if you’ve done another excellent job.”
“Thank you!”
The arsonist smiled proudly, as he turned to leave.
“Gordon?”
“Yes Boss?”
“Leave the jar… ”
“OK, we’ve made some good progress. Let’s summarize.”
Carter was trying to be both supportive and optimistic.
“Oh come on, Ed! We haven’t made any progress at all.”
Stone banged his fist on the wall, his frustration getting the better of his usually mild nature. He turned his back on the room and stared unseeingly out of the window. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he mumbled a quiet apology.
“It’s OK Eric, we understand,” Megan said. “We’re all desperate to help Linda.”
Stone continued to stare out of the window. He half-heartedly listened as Megan and Carter talked through the known facts for the third time, but he couldn’t focus his mind. Linda was out there somewhere, and she was in terrible danger, or worse. At that moment, The Fixer could be doing something unspeakable to her, and Stone knew there was nothing that he could do. He closed his eyes in an effort to hold back the tears. His heart raced and his chest constricted under the insufferable weight of frustration. He understood now, the helpless pain that every grieving relative suffers when a loved one goes missing.
With a huge effort, he pulled his emotions back together. He realized that if he lost it now, he would be of no use to Megan and Carter. Eric thought of Linda, he pictured her. He evoked an image of her happy smiling face, her beautiful eyes, and her inner sparkle. He realized that he had to keep visualizing her that way. He had to pretend that those other things weren’t happening, and he had to believe that by some miracle she was unhurt. Otherwise, he just couldn’t function. Behind him, the conversation eventually came back to Second Chances, and the Trustees.
“There is one question that we never asked,” Carter said. “Why was Charles Rathbone targeted?”
“I thought it was because he was getting too close to the Wrecking Crew,” Megan replied.
“Well that’s what we assumed, but if that was the case, wouldn’t they have just killed him — like they did Valerie Jenkins? Surely that would have been a more predictable result than an induced suicide?”
“So what was the motive?” Megan asked.
“Charles thought that he became a target because of his politics, maybe he was right,” Carter said. “Perhaps the actual motive was stopping Charles’ ‘True Democracy’ movement.”
“But how does his suicide stop the movement? I mean, surely someone else will just take over. His death achieved nothing. You can’t kill an idea,” Megan said.
Carter clicked his fingers.
“Perhaps his suicide was just an unintended consequence. If they wanted to discredit Charles, and his idea of ‘True Democracy’, then associating him with pedophilia was a perfect way to do it. Killing someone only works once, but a character assassination works every day. His suicide was probably the last thing that they would have wanted.”
Megan nodded.
“So we have to ask, ‘Who would benefit from stopping True Democracy?’ — and I guess the answer is any competing politician.”
“Like Sir Harold Heathfield?” Carter asked, already knowing the answer.
“Consecrated excrement!”
Megan sat forward and started tapping at the laptop.
“Heathfield is ‘Father of the House’, and a Trustee of Second Chances. Perhaps he was using his own organisation to remove a threat to his political ideals.”
“Where does he live?” Carter asked.
“Well… according to the House of Commons register of Member’s interests, he has five properties listed. An apartment in London, a family home in Surrey and three overseas vacation homes in Spain, France and one in Florida.” She pulled an unsympathetic face. “It must be a hard life.”
“What about the other Trustee?” Carter asked.
“Simon Cartwright? We already looked at him.” Megan shrugged noncommittally. “Before his wife died, they lived in a house bearing the offensive name of ‘Hug-a-Mugger’. According to the electoral roll, he still lives there now.”
“Could he be that arrogant?” Stone had spoken for the first time in almost an hour.
“Excuse me?” Megan said.
Stone turned to face Carter. His face spoke of some huge hidden secret.
“I asked if Simon Cartwright could be that arrogant.”
“What have you got, Eric?” Carter asked.
“Something has been bouncing around in my head for a couple of days, something… just out of reach. Now I’ve got it.”
“WHAT?” Megan asked in frustration.
“It’s not Hug-a-Mugger, his house is called Huggermugger.”
Stone spelled the word, his face split in a wide smile.
Megan and Carter looked at him blankly.
“It’s from Shakespeare — Hamlet, I think.”
Stone closed his eyes as he searched for the memory.
“I think it was Claudius — ‘For good Polonius' death and we have done but greenly, in huggermugger to inter him’.”
They continued to stare.
“What? I read,” he shrugged.
“I still don’t get it,” Megan said.
“Among other things… ” Stone said pointedly, “huggermugger means secrecy or clandestine. To act slyly, to cause confusion, and to create muddle.”
Carter face was a picture of delight and astonishment.
“In a single word, it’s everything that we know the Wrecking Crew does!”
“But can this ‘Fixer’ be that arrogant?” Stone asked.
“You spoke with him… ” Carter said, “You know he is.”
“I’ll call the house up on my mapping software.”
Megan’s fingers flew across the keyboard.
“Here it is. It’s just outside a village called Hampstead Norryes in Berkshire.”
She looked at Stone.
“That’s not far from The Oracle in Reading… Let’s see if there is a satellite view.”
The picture came up on the laptop. As Megan zoomed in, Stone and Carter leaned over the bed for a better view. She pointed out the features.
“Biggish place, looks like a single story residence, outbuildings, several cars, and a humongous satellite dish — their broadband speed must be off the scale!”
Stone’s finger jabbed the screen.
“That looks like the Toyota Hilux that rammed us. And that one could be the same BMW that they took Linda in.”
“When was this picture taken?” Carter asked.
Megan quickly checked the image data.
“It’s recent — six days ago.”
“What’s that?” Carter stabbed the screen. “Can you zoom in?”
“Sure! This is a high-resolution image — a Government special. Ironic really, when you think about it.”
She rolled the mouse and the image grew. It was heavily pixelated at first, but the detail quickly filled in. Just outside the house a man was standing, with his head tilted slightly backwards, as if he were enjoying the sunshine on his face. Although the image was small, the satellite had clearly captured a picture of an elderly man, with a goatee beard and a tweed jacket.
“That’s Peter White!” Carter shouted, jumping with excitement. “We’ve found them, Eric. We’ve found the Wrecking Crew!”
“And Linda,” Stone said, “we’ve found Linda.”
He turned to face the window. His eyes were looking slightly above the horizon, as if he were trying to see all the way to Huggermugger. As if he were trying to see Linda Smart.
“Now we have a chance,” he whispered, “Now we can get her back!”
SEVENTEEN