Successio (3 page)

*

Later as we lay together on sleeping mats in my tent, Conrad told me about the small act of vengeance he’d enacted against the pompous Brigadier. After the post-supper port at the senior staff table, the Brigadier had invited Conrad to stay at the local hotel where he and his Defence Ministry people were putting up. Conrad said he’d prefer to sleep with his wife, and begged to be excused.

‘I thought Furnell was going to have a stroke. Stimpson, who was standing a little behind him, gave a little smirk – not at me, love,’ he added, seeing my reaction, ‘but at the shiny-arse from the ministry.’

I laughed, bent over and kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘Thank you. You really are the nicest man.’

He didn’t say anything, but the warmth grew in his eyes. Even in the dim light, I could see them darken. He leaned over and kissed my eyelids, my jawline, making his way up gently but determinedly to my mouth. Oh, the warm pleasure of it. The graceful line of his throat stretched above me. His masculine scent overwhelmed me. His body always excited me. Although military bedrolls were not the most comfortable or sensual surroundings for passionate love-making, we managed to frighten the local wildlife.

*

Beginning the day with a fresh egg and bacon roll – hot, salty bacon coupled with the firm liquid of a fried egg bursting in your mouth – in the quiet of a pine forest with the sun starting to shed its early light on you took some beating. The cook grinned at me, sensing an appreciative customer.

‘Like another one, ma’am?’

I swallowed the last piece and grinned back. ‘No. No, thanks. Nothing could better that.’

‘Coffee and tea are inside, but come back if you want another,’ and he winked.

I pulled the heavy canvas flap of the mess tent aside and found a few other early souls. Passing on the muddy-looking coffee I filled a mug from the tea urn.

‘Sleep well?’

Cute question.

‘Hi, Michael. Yes, thanks. I’ve always loved camping out and it’s so quiet here.’

‘We’re either not trying hard enough to make it sufficiently uncomfortable or you lot are tougher than we think.’

‘Yeah,’ I smirked at him. ‘Get over it.’

He chuckled and raised his mug of tea, toasting me.

The rest of that day, we packed up the camp into cargo trucks. Even Stella helped, acting as Conrad’s runner. That strange young woman, the admin sergeant, seemed to be everywhere, but as I stood up, pausing for a moment after securing the straps on my own pack, I caught her staring at Stella and Conrad. He turned away to sign Flavius’s el-pad, and Stella watched the two men, oblivious to the interest from the sergeant. What jolted me was the violence in the British girl’s scrutiny. Her mouth twisted in anger and her eyes shone hard and pitiless. Then in a nanosecond, it had all vanished and her serene expression was back. I blinked. What in Hades was that about?

I watched her covertly for a little longer, but she disappeared after a few minutes. After personal farewells to our hosts and final parade, we drove back to the main barracks allocated for our use, until recently an RAF base given over to the EUSAF. I’d decided to grant the whole detachment three days’ local leave before going home to Roma Nova and Flavius was briefing them about observing local sensitivities. He organised them into groups of three or four, with the youngest guards paired with more experienced ones.

‘The gods help us when this lot hits London,’ he muttered under his breath to me while Conrad was giving them a lecture about English dos and don’ts.

‘No problem, Flav. I’m more concerned about the stuff they’ll absorb from the locals.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You haven’t forgotten Operation Goldlights, surely?’

Flavius and I had met when I’d been undercover fighting the wholesale introduction of illicit drugs into Roma Nova. We’d stopped it then, but it was one of the biggest worries faced by our law and security forces.

‘Of course not!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘They’ve all been warned specifically – no tabs, no powder, no sprays or they’re out. They’re meeting up with some of the English we’ve been training with, so I hope that’ll help.’

‘You’re kidding! You know how they drink.’

‘C’mon, Bruna, they’re not kids.’

I shrugged. I just prayed there was one particular English sergeant they were not meeting. If Fortuna was smiling on me, she’d sent that girl back to the Brits’ permanent base in the west and we’d never see her again.

III

On the second day in London, we arrived back at the hotel suite late afternoon after an activity-packed day; the Tower, the Battersea theme park, a burger stop, Skateboard Central and a browse through the City children’s farm. I thanked fate yet again for my cousin Helena. When she’d given up teaching and taken on supervising my kids, it had been one of the luckiest days of my life. She’d turned out three happy, inquisitive, healthy but immaculately mannered beings.

Well, mostly.

Allegra had started teenage grunting recently, which Helena assured me was perfectly normal. I wasn’t too sure. She was the child of my heart and until a few weeks ago, I had been almost smug about how much pleasure we gave each other. Most fourteen-year-olds, when I’d been one in the States, were beyond embarrassed to admit they actually had mothers. I hadn’t been so lucky; mine had driven herself off a cliff when I was three.

But Allegra and I had been friends always. We’d sit together, she curled in my lap when little and close by my side when older, as we read books, talked, played on the games console together. I’d sit by her when I could, helping her with homework assignments, giving her confidence to try new things and consoling her when she failed or fell. She poured her heart out to me, sometimes teaching me things, and listening seriously to what I said. She’d send me a soft smile, followed by a chuckle then a full throated laugh. Then a few weeks before we came here she’d transformed, like she had a split personality; flirting with her father, still giving Helena respect and polite to everybody else, she saved all her grumping for me. Fabulous.

The twins, Tonia and Gil, at ten were über-boisterous after an exciting day out in London but that didn’t entitle Allegra to drag along all day saying how bored she was. She knew better. And that made me angry. She knew it would be her turn tomorrow and we’d leave the small ones and Helena behind.

‘I don’t know what you’re worrying about, love,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s just a phase.’

‘Right. A phase. Sure. You’re getting all the Daddy’s girl treatment and I’m Cruella de Vil.’

‘Forget about it tonight. We’ve got dinner with Andrew Brudgland later, so you can relax and leave it to Helena.’

‘You don’t think that’s the problem? I mean, Helena and not me?’

‘Carina, look at me.’ Mm, always a pleasure. Although he was gaining one or two more lines around those mesmerising eyes and tiny grey wings at his temples, his smile was so warm and sexy, I forgot everything else.

‘Hey!’

‘Yes?’ I said.

‘You are a great mother. You love our children unreservedly, you nurture them, help them, defend them. You have responsibilities, sure, but they know that and none of them feels any less loved because of it. So stop it.’

‘But why—’

He laid the tip of his finger on my lip. ‘It’s not you. She’s just trying to work out who she is. She’s an adolescent.’ He shrugged.

‘Helena says I have to persist, keep talking, support her, talk to her as an adult. But all I get back are grunts.’

‘It’ll pass. Honestly.’

‘And what makes you the great expert?’ He had no sisters and only distant female cousins. Then I remembered. Stella. He saw I’d got it.

‘Quite. Remember her at fifteen? I know she can still be awkward, but she’s a great deal improved. I think living at the palace has kept her a bit immature. Hopefully, that’ll go when she gets to the officer training school.’

Personally, I had my doubts.

*

Rules Restaurant belonged to another world. Welcomed by a smile from the top-hatted commissionaire, tall with the assured, disciplined air of a former soldier, we passed into the care of wonderfully polite, hyper-efficient servers sporting tab-fronted aprons and tailcoats. Light bounced between the gold-framed mirrors, reflected off the fabulous coloured glass ceiling and fell on our party dining in a discreet corner. The spaciousness, soft leather benches and thick carpet recalled a more comfortable and relaxed age.

Andrew Brudgland had that confident British air of looking as if he was sitting up straight when slouching. He ate his food with smooth, precise movements, nothing dropped or spilled and no crumbs or drips left. Fascinated by such fastidiousness, I studied his unremarkable face closely. Half-closed lids couldn’t disguise the directness of his gaze as he talked with Conrad about some shared past adventure. They’d met and trained together when Conrad had spent time on detachment in England as a young soldier. Andrew worked now in one of the British government’s security services. From his fit appearance he didn’t sit at a desk so much.

‘I’m sorry I missed you both last time you came to London, Carina. How are you enjoying it?’

He watched carefully for my response to his formulaic question. I had the impression he never wasted a word.

‘Good to have a few days to recover after the exercise – something I guess you know all about,’ I said, and looked up at him through my eyelashes. I saw a half-smile of appreciation and heard a chuckle from Conrad.

‘Sorry,’ Andrew said, and smiled. ‘That was rather trite. Seriously, let me know if there’s anywhere particular you’d like to visit and I’ll do my best.’

‘Well, thank you. That’s a great offer.’ But I doubted he’d get us into Buckingham Palace, something that would have been pretty intriguing.

When we’d finished eating, I excused myself, making my way through the frosted glass door and up the narrow red and gold papered stairway to the restrooms. Back down again in the tiny lobby, I stretched my hand out to open the door back into the restaurant when I heard Conrad’s voice, clipped and tense. But strangest of all, his usual faultless English was spoiled by traces of a Latin accent. Only when he was exhausted or stressed out did his accent slip.

‘… not a clue. It was hand delivered. As soon as I read it, I stuffed it back in the envelope. Gods, I can’t believe it! The signature just said “Nicola”. Who the hell is she?’

That got my attention. I froze where I was.

‘Let me have the letter, Conrad, and I’ll get somebody at the lab to process it. If there’s anything, even a partial, we’ll find her. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. Not a word to Carina.’

‘Jupiter, no. She’s as sharp as all hell and can pick up a conspiracy in a breath of air.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ came the dry reply.

What in Hades was that about?

I shucked off my shoes and crept back up the stairs. At the top I slipped them back on and came down the stairway making light shoe noise on each uncovered tread. I swung through the door, a smile on my face. The two men smiled back equally blandly and we made nice conversation for the rest of the evening.

*

Next morning, I woke at the touch of Conrad’s lips on my forehead. Totally relaxed, I enjoyed the soft tingle as it spread through my skin. I smiled before I opened my eyes. But when I did, I was disappointed to see him dressed, and in sweats and sneakers.

‘Just going for a run in the park.’ He pulled his glance away a little too quickly, turned and shut the bedroom door behind him before I could say anything.

That was weird. We ran together whenever we could. He’d recovered so well from his accident earlier this year that he’d now resumed full-on training. The first proper run, he’d scarcely managed a kilometre before collapsing, heaving breath like a suffocation victim. Luckily, we’d kept to the parkland behind Domus Mitelarum but it hadn’t lessened his humiliation and anger at himself. He hadn’t said a word as we walked back, him limping badly. But for Juno’s sake, his leg had been smashed in several places by that truck running him down. I’d reassured him, but his confidence had suffered. Although he seemed fit now, months later, even he had to admit he’d lost his edge.

If I hadn’t overheard his conversation last night with Andrew Brudgland I would have shrugged it off as quirky, or thought he was letting me rest some more. But not this time.

I leapt out of bed and frantically pulled on my own jogging sweats and sneakers. Yanking the door to the landing open, I startled the guard and tore down the service stairs. Would Conrad have taken the elevator? At the foot of the narrow stairwell, I hurried past a surprised maid and headed for the staff door leading to the lobby. No sign of him through the shaded window panel. Damn! I edged into the main lobby, sidled along to the elevator doors then stepped out briskly across the marble lobby. Outside I glanced up and down Park Lane. It was only half seven in the morning, but already busy. I peered between the traffic and spotted Conrad’s figure across the road as he ran along the park railing at a gentle pace.

Shadowing him on my side of the road, I jogged in parallel, but staying a few steps behind. After he disappeared through the park gate, I counted to five, saw a space in the traffic and sprinted to the middle. A taxi screamed past me. Crap, I forgot they drove on the wrong side of the road. Once safely across, I made for the gate Conrad had taken.

Concealed behind a tree, I watched as he trotted in the direction of the Serpentine lake. I set off down the Broadwalk, keeping him in my line of sight at all times. It was too open for me to follow him directly. A little further south, the added cover of shrubs and trees let me cross westward past the bandstand towards the lake. I closed up on him, but keeping a healthy distance between us. Was he simply out jogging? Where did he get the energy after last night?

I followed him across the bridge, hiding in a small group of other runners. If he looked around, I didn’t want him spotting me. He started back along the south bank, switching on to Rotten Row and diverting through the formal gardens and stopping eventually on the east side of some Greek warrior statue. He affected some stretching exercises, but by now I had caught him up and was hiding only a few metres away behind a tall shrub.

He tracked an imaginary line running from the middle post around the statue and a tall chestnut tree at the park railing. He turned to look at the statue itself, but all the while glancing around him checking that nobody else was in view. His hand came up and he rubbed his fingers along the hairline above his right eye. Gotcha! Now I knew he was up to something. Love him as I did, I thought his tradecraft was sloppy. He strolled over to the tree, sat at the base of the trunk and made a call on his cellphone.

A vibrating buzz from my pocket answered. It sounded as loud as a jackhammer drill. I leapt up, sprinted away to a safe distance out of earshot, careful to remain just out of his line of sight. I found a shrub to crouch down by.

‘Oh, hi,’ I answered.

‘You sound out of breath. Are you all right?’

‘No, I’m fine. You surprised me. I was in the bathroom when you called. I just swallowed some water.’

He laughed. ‘Well, take it easy. I’ll be back in about ten.’

I signed off and crept forward a few centimetres. Conrad pocketed his cell, then too casually laid his hand on the tree root. His fingers contracted, darted under the root and picked something up. He stood up, put it in his pocket and jogged off.

I made it back only seconds ahead of him, threw my sweats under the bed and ran into the shower where he found me. Thank Juno, he didn’t hear my heart thumping with the exertion of getting back first. Leaving him to finish, I skipped out of the bathroom and found his discarded sweats on the floor. I hesitated. Surely I could trust him. I pulled the towel from my hair and started rubbing it dry. I stared at the sweats again. It was too tempting. In Conrad’s pocket I found two pieces of paper stapled together; a handwritten letter in precise blue ballpoint ink and Andrew Brudgland’s report.

*

We left from Heathrow later that day, arriving at Portus Airport in Roma Nova in the early evening. As we clattered down the steps we were engulfed by hot, humid air. By the time we reached home, my head was starting to throb. Juno knew what it would have been like without air conditioning. Helena and I settled the three wilting children and I looked in on my grandmother, Aurelia. It was late when Conrad and I sat down to supper.

‘I’ll wait till morning to check up on work,’ Conrad said, reaching for his glass of beer. ‘I don’t want to disturb Daniel now, especially as he’s tied up getting ready for his anti-terrorism exercise. I had the last contact report this morning, so I can’t think anything drastic has happened since.’

‘That’s good, as I want to discuss something with you in private.’

‘Oh?’

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Nicola?’

He looked down and stabbed the breadcrumbed pork with his knife, swishing the meat around his plate, giving the beans a hard time. He didn’t speak for a full two minutes. I watched his jaw working as he ate, his face impassive. I found the silence oppressive, but I knew I had to wait.

‘Did you read it all?’ His voice was subdued and his eyes remained focused on his plate.

‘Yes. Conrad, I—’

‘What the hell were you doing rifling through my stuff?’

‘Excuse me? Why were you hiding such a letter from me? And asking a foreign security service to investigate it for you?’

He waved his hand and looked irritated.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I heard you in Rules.’

‘Gods, do you always eavesdrop on private conversations?’

‘That’s in my job description, remember?’

He was as mad with me as Livius had been during the link fight.

‘I’m not your target,’ he said. ‘Or have you decided to make me one?’ I winced at the sarcasm. His eyes narrowed and slanted upwards and the skin covering his cheeks tightened. When he closed his face down like that, he closed down mentally as well.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I smiled a smile I didn’t feel. ‘Surely this is some con woman on the make? We can deal with it together, like we always do.’

I touched his forearm.

He shook my hand off. ‘For Jupiter’s sake, don’t give me any platitudes.’

‘Okay,’ I said and swallowed. ‘We’ll do it straight.’

He glanced at me, then went back to looking at his plate.

I waited, but he kept silent.

‘This is how I see it,’ I continued. ‘As family head, I have to know about anything that threatens us. So give me the full story.’