The Few (The Abductions of Langley Garret Book 2) (5 page)

'And my fate?'

'The Moirai have already decided. It is now only a matter of you understanding that it is your fate and that you have no choice. It has been decided, and written – for a very long time.'

'My mother's letter?'

'We need to read it together. Hopefully, you'll finally understand.'

I walked over to my hallstand and took the letter from the top drawer, then back to Chara and handed it to her. 'I know it's a copy. I think Helen took the original and made this copy quite some time ago.'

'Yes, I was told that too.'

'Coffee first?'

'Sure.'

We sat on the sofa and Chara set the letter on the table. 'Do you know about the Critias? One of Plato's dialogues?'

'Vaguely.'

'Well, your mother tried to write her letter in its style, and content as well, but she also used passages from Crantor.'

'Who was he?'

'A fourth century Greek philosopher like Plato, but lesser known to most people.'

'So she was a plagiarist?'

'I don't think she could be accused of plagiarism in a letter to her son. Look, the point is, she used a lot of metaphors, historical beliefs and facts as well, but her letter reads like a fable or even a fairytale. Do you recall that she mentions the Thirty Tyrants?'

'Yes, I think so but I don't recall the context it was in.'

'Find it in her letter. I won't be a moment,' she said, as she got up and went to the bedroom. She came back with a small book in her hand, and when she sat back down she flicked the pages, searching for something. I had found the passage in the letter and read it.

'She just says here,
The Thirty Tyrants, defeated but once, yet not ever so, like Davids we are to them; forever
.
Therefore we all, including you my son, carry a stone in our right hand.
'

'So do you know who these Thirty Tyrants were?'

'I'd presumed it was just a metaphor for fighting oppressors or for what is right, or something like that.'

'Read this,' she said, and handed me her small book, open at a page of highlighted text.

'The Thirty severely reduced the rights of Athenian citizens. Imposing a limit on the number of citizens allowed to vote (limiting the franchise for example to the wealthiest citizens) was a standard move on the part of wealthy people who objected to being subject to the votes of the "rabble" in a broad-based democracy where all free adult males could vote. Participation in legal functions—which had previously been open to all Athenians—was restricted by the 30 to a select group of 500 persons. Only 3,000 Athenians were granted the right to carry weapons or receive a jury trial.'

'A reference to an oligarchy?'

'Your mother refers to The Few
a number of times in her letter, but she doesn't capitalise the words so they blend into the text.'

She took the letter from me and found what she was looking for. 'If you replace her mentions of, the few, with oligarchy, you'll understand what I mean. Like here she says;
After the tempest, to the few who remained, prosperity was assured
. And here.
As cities burned and bodies lay rotting in heaps, the few who survived, untouched, drank wine and feasted on grapes that had been destined for the mouths of the dead, and dying children.
'

'Yes, I see what you mean. It takes on a totally different sense and meaning, doesn't it?'

'This was your luck that you didn't understand it.'

'You mean the ones who smashed my hand didn't understand it either?'

'I'm not sure, but more importantly was that Helen had never explained the letter to you.'

I looked at Chara, stunned.

'Yes she knew, but never explained the full meaning of the letter to you so you were totally unaware.'

'Like a mushroom.'

'Sorry?'

'Kept in the dark and fed on shit.'

Chara laughed. 'Well, not the way I would've put it, but possibly.'

'Look, about Helen. What should I know? You can't believe how my mind had been processing our marriage, her work and her death. We were married for nearly twenty years, and well, we had our ups and downs but she was my wife. I really don't know….'

'It's ok, I understand. Well no, I can't possibly understand, but I do gather from what little I know that she tried to protect you. In her own way I suppose, which may not have been easy for you to comprehend. All I do know for sure is that she worked in places and positions that were very difficult for her as she, by necessity, had a foot in both camps.'

'Cleito and The Few?'

'She worked in government agencies and, well, was naturally exposed to different points of view and allegiances depending on her job at the time.'

'A double agent?'

'A bit James Bond, but yes, she needed to work in a variety of situations.'

'And our marriage?'

'You asked earlier today about the difference between love and in love.'

'Yes. It was something though, wasn't it?'

'Yes it was Lang. Helen loved you. Isn't that enough?'

My mind lost track of our conversation for a moment as it started doing its inevitable calculations about what had just been said. I didn't really notice, but Chara kindly let me have my quiet time as my processing continued. Thoughts of happy days with Helen, and a few less than happy ones that dotted our marriage, but it was a marriage. A shadow of guilt hit me as I recalled my thoughts and imaginings about Helen's death being just. A shiver going down my spine at the thought of her being shot and then dumped into the sea – she was my wife. I looked down at my hands, cupped together and unsure of themselves. I'd never worn a wedding ring. I didn't really know why.

Chara was still reading my mother's letter. I silently cursed it, yet knew that its mystery had saved me. That I had never really understood the message behind her words had been a blessing; perhaps passed upon me by the priest who gave it to me and read it to me for the very first time when I was a child. Chara had only just opened my eyes to a couple of passages in the letter, so I wondered what else there was in my mother's words that I had failed to grasp after all the years. The only saving grace being that when the Grey Lady and the Oxford Accent had asked me to explain, I had, and answered honestly. No wonder they finally thought they had the wrong Langley Garrett – or Soter.

My thoughts turned like the coloured pieces of a Rubik's Cube, but found it impossible to make the boxes line up and match, no matter how many times I turned it. There were so many unanswered questions and facts and lies that just didn't add up. For some reason I half trusted Chara's motives. Well, one quarter anyway. But she was a puppet in the equation and doing as she was instructed.

'When did you film your little deep sea adventure?'

'Um, sorry?' Chara said, as she lifted her attention from my mother's letter.

'When you were swimming naked with the fish. Leda made a point of making sure I saw you in her little underwater aquarium on the island, but when you swam by the second day I was with Leda, you waved the exact same wave as the day before, and I realised it was faked.'

'It was filmed some time ago, but she used it to help make you believe.'

'In what?'

'Everyone has their make believe friends. God, Allah, Satan or whoever. Heaven, Hell or somewhere else that provides security based on faith and belief. Why not an underwater paradise? The belief is that Atlantis exists and that our souls will live there forever and that our immortality will be assured.'

'It didn't really answer my question.'

'Does it matter now?'

'So what do you believe in?'

'That we all come from Chaos.'

'And then Gaia, Uranus, Evenor and Leucippe, who begat Cleito.'

'Is it any better explained in the Old Testament or the Torah?'

I shrugged, as I couldn't find an argument. Maybe I couldn't be bothered. 'More coffee?'

'Yes, thanks.'

As I walked off to the kitchen, I knew I'd understood little of what the morning had so far delivered. Except that I was running low on marmalade. After turning on the coffee machine and getting the cups and tray ready, I leant on the breakfast bar. 'Can you answer one simple question for me?'

Chara looked up. 'Sure.'

'Why are you here?'

'You asked me that before. Twice.'

'So, you should be practiced at answering the question.'

'To finish what we began on Decem Filios, and then, when it's time, to arrange for your meeting with Kratos.'

I waited before responding, and then decided to make the coffee instead – quite slowly. I knew what I wanted to say, but it could wait until I'd finished hunting for some biscuits to go with the coffee. I couldn't find any, but I did find some chocolates instead. When I finally set the tray on the table, Chara just looked up at me and waited patiently until I sat down. We both unwrapped our chocolates, and drank our coffees in silence. Finally I felt it was time.

'And what if I say no.'

'You can, of course. It just depends on how long you want to live.'

Visitant

Although it had rained for most of the early morning, the clouds cleared and it was a sunny but cool afternoon as Chara and I walked along the lakeshore. For all of the portents of doom that were supposedly hanging over my head, I felt oddly relaxed and calm as we headed for home at around four and turned into rue de Musée, where I had run into the two gentlemen in bad suits on Tuesday morning. Then the realisation hit me that it had only been yesterday morning; yet somehow that felt like a lifetime ago. Chara held my arm, with her coat collar up, protecting her from the chilly breeze that funnelled a little more as we turned into rue Pury.

As we walked, I glanced at the people we passed and for some reason; even the occasional man or two in suits didn't disturb me. I was in Switzerland, so they were probably bankers or insurance underwriters. Chara found more shop windows that she hadn't seen, and what would normally have been a fifteen-minute walk home became closer to an hour. There was no rush though, as all we had planned for the evening was dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant and then perhaps for Chara to explain a little more about my mother's letter. I'd half planned to let that wait until tomorrow if possible. A good bottle of red wine sounded like a much more appealing late evening prospect.

We turned into rue du Basin at last and I felt around in my pocket for my keys, looking down at my jacket pocket momentarily. As I did, I felt Chara's arm lightly pulling me to a halt. I looked up to find a familiar face walking quite quickly towards us from the corner near my building.

'This way both of you,' the square jawed man said firmly, as he indicated that we should turn around and head back from where we had come.

'What's going on?' I asked, surprised by how calmly I spoke.

'You have visitors, Mr. Garret.'

Chara nodded at him and took my arm firmly and lead me back down the street, with Marcus I assumed, a step or two behind us. I saw a man up ahead, standing on the next corner, who was looking in our direction, then heard Marcus' instruction.

'Go with Malcolm, Chara, and I'll meet up with you later.'

I looked at Chara, then behind me at Marcus, and then ahead towards Malcolm.

'Right. Come on,' Chara said, as she pulled my arm, leading me to the man on the corner, and as I looked behind again quickly, Marcus had disappeared. When we arrived at the corner, Malcolm said nothing, just walked away, and we followed for a short distance until a black car pulled up. Malcolm opened the rear door.

'In. Quickly!' was all he said, in a hushed voice. Chara pushed me in first, and then got in beside me as I wriggled my backside across to the other side of the back seat. No sooner had Malcolm got in the front passenger's seat, the car pulled away. I couldn't see the driver, as I was sitting directly behind him and no one spoke as the car made it's way through town, then onto the freeway. Chara smiled at me once or twice as if to say everything was all right. I didn't believe her.

After about ten minutes, we pulled off the freeway and a few minutes later, drove into a small village. I missed the name on the way in, but it didn't matter, all villages in the area looked the same. The driver parked in the street opposite an auberge, with Malcolm looking around like a mouse checking for cats. I was about to say something but decided against it as the comedy of it all was probably only appreciated by me.

'Are you ok?' Chara asked, quietly. I nodded, as seriously as I could manage as I waited for Malcolm to finish his mouse like head movements in all directions, checking for danger that didn't exist. I expected that when he finally had finished, he would suggest having a coffee in the auberge that we had conveniently parked opposite.

'I think it's safe. Would you like a coffee or something?' he finally offered.

'A cold beer would be quite nice. Thank you,' I said, and had the feeling Chara sensed my sarcasm, as she squeezed my arm firmly then turned her head to me, without a smile.