The Legacy (4 page)

Chapter 9

Lucy and Isobel sat on their beds, wrapped in towels in the twin room they'd rented at the Sagarmatha Hotel. Clean, relatively cheap and with lots of hot water - a rare thing during the day in Kathmandu - it was better than its three stars suggested. It was ideally located for visiting the main tourist attractions but also close to the secondhand mountaineering shops they needed to visit to complete their kit before they set off for Pokhara and the Annapurna Basin.

‘Shall we go out for dinner tonight?' asked Isobel, glad that her friend had eventually arrived. ‘I've been living like a monk on my own, trying to save money for when we go west. But now that you're here, I need to go out!' Isobel smiled as she said this. She was looking forward to a few beers at one of the climbers' bars near the hotel followed by a curry at a local restaurant she'd found called the Rato Hatti. Literally translated this meant the ‘Red Elephant' but it was known locally as the Pink Dumbo on account of a faded mural on one of its inside walls. Hidden down a back street, the food was excellent and the clientele was a mix of local Nepalis and ex-patriots, with very few tourists.

Lucy was also looking forward to a night out. The hot shower had reinvigorated her after the flight and her excitement at seeing Isobel was matched by her keen desire to immerse herself in the vibrant night life of Kathmandu. She stood up, pulled her jeans on and slipped a t-shirt over her head. ‘Let's go,' she said to a still half dressed Isobel.

They left the hotel and walked towards Kathmandu's Durbar Square, passing the Kumari Ghar, the palace inhabited by a young girl said to be a living goddess. The bar they were heading to was called ‘Rum Doodles' and was a particular favourite amongst mountaineers and trekkers. Although still early, it was reasonably busy and they had to force their way through to the bar. Lucy looked around her. It was just as she remembered it from her last visit and she felt comfortable to be back amongst people who shared her passion for the mountains.

‘I'll get the beers, you go find a table,' ordered Isobel, squeezing between two huge Americans to catch the barman's eye. Lucy found a table in the furthest and darkest corner of the room. She wasn't being anti-social, she just wanted to sit back and take it all in for a while without being chatted up by unshaven twenty somethings who'd already had a few beers.

Isobel appeared a few minutes later with two ice cold Kingfishers. ‘Cheers,' she said, flopping down into the old leather chair next to Lucy and taking a huge swig from her beer. ‘I've missed you Luce. I've been busy but travel is so much more fun when you've got your best friend there to share it with you.'

Lucy felt the same. She smiled and squeezed her friend's hand. ‘Well I'm here now so let's have some fun.' They fell into animated conversation, catching up on each other's news and planning their expedition.

A few hours and several beers later, the two big Americans she'd seen earlier came over to their table and sat down. ‘Hi girls, my name's Pete and this is Andy,' said the blonder of the two. ‘Mind if we join you?' He had clearly drunk too much. Lucy detected a note of menace in his slurred voice and decided it was time to leave.

‘We're just going actually,' said Lucy, ‘weren't we Isobel?' Isobel nodded and started to get up.

Pete pushed her down into her chair. ‘Not so fast,' he said. ‘We're just starting to get acquainted.' Lucy stood and tried to push past Andy but he stuck his leg out and, looking up at her with a drunken grin, ordered her to sit down.

Lucy was used to dealing with drunken men at university and she stared hard at him before speaking slowly and deliberately. ‘Move your foot and let me past or I'm going to scream.'

Andy smiled again, infuriating Lucy even more, but as she opened her mouth to scream, Pete stood up behind her and put his hand over her mouth, clamping it shut. This was getting out of hand, thought Isobel, rising from her seat to grab at Pete's arm. Lucy reacted quickly, raising her heel and driving it down on Pete's foot. He let out a loud shout and released his hold. ‘You bitch,' he snarled, pushing her away from him. Lucy fell onto the table, knocking their beer glasses flying. As she stood up, Pete balled his fist and started to throw a punch at her face. She ducked instinctively but the punch never landed. Someone grabbed Pete's arm and, with remarkable speed, twisted it away from Lucy and up behind his back. ‘Calm down big guy,' said the man who had hold of Pete's arm. ‘My girlfriend doesn't want to talk to you. Why don't you guys go and have another beer and we'll just leave.'

The arm lock hurt like hell and Pete turned to look at the man, boiling with rage. Equally as tall as Pete himself, the man returned Pete's stare evenly. Though Pete was angry and drunk, he wasn't stupid. He recognised the man's formidable strength from the arm lock that was lifting him onto his toes and the calm look in the man's eyes started to unnerve him. There was something dangerous about him. Pete couldn't put his finger on it but he reminded him of a coiled snake, tense and ready to strike if provoked further. ‘Yeah, OK, didn't know she was your girlfriend, sorry,' said Pete. The man released Pete's arm. Pete nodded to Andy and the two sauntered off towards the bar, muttering under their breath.

Lucy smiled at the man. ‘Thank you,' she said, recognising him as the blond man she'd seen on the plane. ‘I had it under control but I appreciate your help.'

‘Sure you did but it gave me an excuse to introduce myself,' he said, smiling in an infectious and friendly way.

‘Let me buy you a beer,' said Isobel, ‘you've definitely earned it.' She went off towards the bar, avoiding the two Americans who were now heading towards the exit.

‘My name's Harry Parker,' said the man, holding out his hand. Lucy shook it and introduced herself, smiling at him and inviting him to sit down.

‘I saw you on the plane,' she said, ‘you arrived today.'

‘I did,' he replied. ‘And I also saw you on the plane, you were sitting a few rows back from me.'

Lucy watched him closely as he spoke. He was in his early thirties and ruggedly handsome, the long scar on his cheek and his straggly blond hair adding to his appeal. ‘What brings you to Kathmandu Harry?' asked Lucy.

‘I've got a flat here and I'm between jobs at the moment,' replied Harry, ‘so I thought I'd come back for a month or so over Dashera and catch up with friends.'

Lucy was intrigued. Harry's accent was English and whilst he sounded very much like he had been educated at a good public school, he looked more like a Californian surfer. Just as she was about to ask him what he did, Isobel arrived with three more Kingfishers. She put the beers on the table and sat down between Harry and Lucy, introducing herself to Harry. ‘Thank you for coming to our rescue,' said Isobel. ‘You arrived just in the nick of time. If you hadn't come, we'd have had to hurt them!' She laughed as she said this.

Harry wasn't sure whether she was joking. Isobel looked perfectly capable of dealing with most things, including a few drunken and lecherous Americans. Without trying to appear too obvious, he looked closely at her hands as she held her beer glass. He could see calluses on her knuckles and also along the edge of the hand closest to him. ‘Martial arts,' he thought to himself, ‘I wonder what sort?' He was about to ask her when she started to tell him what they were doing in Nepal. They talked for about an hour, explaining their plans before Harry stood up and announced that he was starving. The girls looked at each other and then invited him to join them at the Pink Dumbo. He agreed.

The three of them left Rum Doodles and walked down the street towards the restaurant. As they passed a side street, the two Americans stepped out from the shadows. Harry noticed that Pete, the smaller of the two, was armed with a wicked looking knife while Andy had what appeared to be a club.

‘We owe you,' said Pete. ‘Nobody fucks with us and gets away with it,' snarled Andy as he walked towards them, raising his arm ready to strike. As Harry was thinking what to say to try and calm the situation down, Isobel stepped forward and spun round backwards, raising and extending her right leg as she gathered speed so that her heel struck Pete's head. Pete fell to the ground instantly, dazed by the force of the blow. Isobel landed next to him with the agility of a cat and punched him twice in the face with real force.

Andy, shocked at the speed of Isobel's reactions, froze and Harry, seizing his opportunity, kicked the knife out of his hand and then landed a crushing punch to his stomach. Andy doubled over and Harry hit him with an uppercut on his chin, lifting him off his feet and leaving him in a crumpled heap next to his friend.

Isobel laughed. ‘Well done tough guy. You beat me to him.' Harry was amazed at her reaction. He'd met a lot of tough women in his time but Isobel was something else.

‘She likes fights,' said Lucy simply, kicking the knife away from the groaning Americans.

‘Where did you learn to fight like that?' asked Harry, struggling to keep the awe out of his voice.

‘Here and there,' said Isobel, smiling shyly. ‘Buy me a beer sometime and I'll tell you all about it.'

Harry was about to ask her another question when he heard footsteps approaching at speed. He looked round to see two policemen running down the alley towards them, clearly attracted by the noise of the fight. Harry turned to them and spoke quickly in fluent Nepali. They nodded, asked a few questions, took his details and then handcuffed the two Americans as they were starting to rise to their feet. ‘Dinner,' said Isobel, leading the way towards the Pink Dumbo.

Chapter 10

T
he assassin entered St James's Square from the Mall and walked past the Army and Navy Club with its dull sixties exterior and towards the British Library. At the opposite corner stood the old Libyan Embassy, now another club. On 17 April 1984, it became one of the most notorious buildings in Britain when a Libyan sniper opened fire from the building killing WPC Yvonne Fletcher. He'd stopped and looked at the small monument erected in her honour on previous visits. This time he was more interested in Fairweather's tall, white Georgian townhouse that stood sixty metres away. One of a row of similar houses that formed one side of the square, it was beautiful in its simplicity. Five storeys high and immaculately maintained, it looked out across the manicured communal gardens in the centre of the square. He noticed the secure looking windows, iron railings to the front of the house and CCTV cameras under the eaves. In the middle of the house were six steps leading up to a dark blue door with a large brass handle at its centre. It was the sort of house you would expect to see in a period drama. It stood for understated wealth and establishment respectability. The assassin walked past the London Library and stooped as if to tie a shoelace in front of the house. Looking up he could see that the first floor had French windows that opened onto small, ornamental balconies. The top floors had smaller windows that he suspected wouldn't open fully. He stood up and kept walking, crossing one of the five streets that led into the square. He continued on until he stood next to Yvonne Fletcher's monument and then turned back to look at the house. The building behind the house was having its façade re-plastered and a network of scaffolding led from the pavement up to the roof. ‘Interesting,' he thought to himself. He walked back towards the house and then turned right up Duke of York Street, stopping opposite the scaffolding. He looked up at the roof line and saw that the scaffolding extended across the roof and along to a chimney stack that was shared with Fairweather's house. The makings of a plan began to form in his mind. If he could get onto Fairweather's roof, he could probably remove a few of the slates and get into the loft space and then down into the house. He'd done this before when mounting covert surveillance in the Army. He knew it was easy enough to do provided you were sheltered from a casual observer whilst removing the slates. ‘Bingo', he thought to himself, ‘we have a plan.' With that, he turned and started to walk up Jermyn Street, pausing to look in the windows of the numerous shirt shops that seem to have adopted this part of London as their own.

An hour later, he was back in his hotel room. He was pleased with what he'd discovered. All he needed to do now was to work out when Fairweather would be home and decide how best to kill him. It needed to be an accident and this limited his options, but he thought he'd seen how to do it. He changed into running kit and headed back outside. It was nearly five and the streets were starting to fill with people beginning their journey home. He jogged slowly through the crowds, making his way towards the Thames. He crossed the river and turned along the Embankment, increasing his pace as the pavement widened and the number of people reduced. By the time he reached the Houses of Parliament he was moving fast, enjoying the sensation of his body working hard whilst his subconscious considered the problem of how best to kill Fairweather. When he returned to the hotel, dripping with sweat and breathing hard, the plan was sufficiently refined that he felt it had a reasonable chance of success. There were one or two areas that still concerned him but provided he was able to achieve complete surprise when he confronted Fairweather, he felt the risks were manageable.

Chapter 11

L
ucy and Isobel opened the door of the restaurant and walked towards the bar. It was busy and noisy. Lots of different languages were being spoken by people from at least a dozen different countries. The dim lights and overpowering smells of incense and spices created the comfortable warmth that Lucy needed after the violence outside. She lacked Isobel's matter of fact hardness. Where Isobel seemed to accept violence as a part of everyday life, it always unsettled Lucy, leaving her feeling churned up and jittery. But she felt herself relax as a smiling Nepalese man with perfect teeth came over, put his hands together and welcomed them with ‘Namaste ladies'.

‘My name is Gopal,' he said. ‘Welcome to the Rato Hatti'. He looked beyond the girls and his face lit up when he saw Harry. ‘Harry, how are you?'.

Harry smiled when he saw him. ‘Gopal, I am very well, how are you?' The two shook hands warmly before Gopal led the three of them to a table at the back of the restaurant.

‘I'll get you some beers while you think about food,' said Gopal before he disappeared off towards the bar.

‘Are you a regular here?' asked Lucy.

‘Not really,' replied Harry. ‘But I've known Gopal a long time, we were in the Army together.'

The Army?' said Lucy quizzically. ‘You don't look like a soldier.'

‘I'm not,' said Harry. ‘Not anymore, but I was.'

The girls were intrigued. Harry seemed reluctant to talk about his background but over several beers and a superb curry, they managed to prise a fair amount out of him. Harry explained that he was the youngest of four brothers. By the time he was eighteen, he'd already decided that he was going to do something different to his brothers and to what his parents expected. Both his parents were doctors and, of his three brothers, two were doctors and one a dentist. Medicine was a family tradition and had been for generations. It wasn't that Harry despised the idea of becoming a doctor, just that he knew from an early age that he wanted to do something more adventurous. After school and still unsure of what career to follow, he spent a year travelling round the Far East. He developed a passion for scuba diving and, within six months of leaving school, he had qualified as a Dive Master and found a job working as a dive guide with a small company in the Philippines. The pay was poor but he racked up hundreds of dives and met some fascinating people. One of these was an officer in Britain's Brigade of Gurkhas. Just married, he was on holiday with his new wife. Whilst she was keen to sunbathe and read the latest bestsellers, the husband wanted to dive so Harry spent a fair amount of time paired up with him as his buddy. After two weeks of talking to his new friend and listening to his adventures, Harry decided that he too wanted to join the Gurkhas.

Harry kept trying to steer the conversation away from himself but the girls were fascinated by their new acquaintance's background. They had spent the last five years working in a rather dry academic environment and Harry was so different to the people they routine-ly met that both were captivated by his story. They asked frequent questions, laughing at his self-deprecating humour and wry perspective on life. Lucy ordered more beer and persuaded him to continue. Harry sighed, realising that, for the moment at least, he had little option but to continue his story. In truth, he was flattered by their interest. It wasn't every day that he found himself the centre of two such intelligent, attractive and fun girls' attention. So he explained that he was accepted by the Royal Gurkha Rifles and, after completing the year-long commissioning course at the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, he was sent to a Gurkha Battalion in Brunei. He served for a total of ten years. During that time, he completed three tours in Afghanistan, two with his own Gurkhas and one with a special operations unit comprised largely of Afghans. He explained that he had quickly mastered both Dari and Pashtu, the key languages in Afghanistan, and that, because of this and his obvious ability as an Infantry officer, he had been selected to work with the special Afghan unit.

Harry became thoughtful and distinctly more self-conscious when the girls asked him why he'd left the Army. ‘I loved working with Gurkhas and I felt that, in my small way, I contributed to making Afghanistan a better place', he said. ‘But I've seen some horrid things and I wanted to try and give something back, to make more of a difference than I could in the Army.' He then explained that when he left the Army, he worked in Africa for various charities. He'd done this for a few years and found that the organisational and man management skills he'd learnt in the Army were an asset to aid agencies, particularly those working in more austere conditions. His gift for languages also helped him develop strong relations with the indigenous people he was trying to help. He'd deliberately chosen to work in the most dangerous and inhospitable regions because, in his experience, this was where the need was greatest and yet very few agencies were prepared to put their people at risk by sending them there. His last two six-month assignments had been in Somalia. Harry rubbed the scar on his cheek as he explained that during his first assignment, he'd ended up in a fight with a Somalian pirate.

‘He came home to his sister's tent to find me bending over her,' explained Harry. ‘He thought I was trying to rape her and attacked me with a knife.'

‘What happened?' asked Isobel.

‘Well,' replied Harry, ‘eventually, his sister calmed him down by explaining that I was trying to treat a nasty infection that she'd developed in a cut on her thigh. But by then, he'd already given me this permanent reminder of Somalia!'

‘So what are you doing now?' asked Isobel.

‘I'm between jobs,' said Harry. ‘I live here in Kathmandu and I'm going to spend a few months catching up with friends, doing some trekking and a bit of climbing and generally having a rest. Then I'm going to look for another six-month contract in Africa.'

Harry and the girls continued their animated discussion whilst a waiter cleared the table. Another waiter poured them each a cup of coffee and placed a small shot glass in front of them. Harry smiled, knowing what was coming next. Gopal returned with a bottle of rum shaped to look like a Kukri, the Gurkhas' famous curved fighting knife. Gopal poured the rum into the glasses. ‘On the house', he said. Harry and the girls thanked him and started to sip the rum.

‘So what about you two, what are you doing tomorrow?' asked Harry.

‘Nothing too strenuous,' replied Lucy. ‘We need to get a couple of new ropes and some other stuff but we're pretty much free for the next few days until we head out west to Pokhara at the weekend.'

‘OK,' said Harry. ‘Why don't I give you a resident's tour of Kathmandu tomorrow morning? If you come to my place at, say, ten o'clock, I'll give you proper coffee and then I'll show you all the sights you won't see unless you go with someone who lives here.'

Lucy and Isobel agreed. They had nothing better to do and this sounded fun. ‘You're going to have to forgive me,' said Harry, ‘but I have to get back to phone one of my brothers before midnight. It's his birthday today and if I don't phone him and wish him Happy Birthday, he'll give me a hard time for the rest of the year.'

‘That's fine,' said Lucy. She was feeling tired having only arrived that morning. ‘You go, we'll have another coffee and then get the bill,' she said generously.

‘No need - already done,' said Harry as he got up and left. Lucy and Isobel watched him disappear out of the restaurant and into the street.

‘What do you think?' asked Lucy. ‘Very nice, in a rugged, outdoorsy sort of way,' replied a slightly drunk Isobel. ‘But not my type.'

‘What do you mean?' asked Lucy.

‘I don't like blonds,' replied Isobel. ‘At least not this week!' Lucy laughed. Isobel's last boyfriend had been a less athletic version of Harry. The relationship had started off well but she'd eventually tired of his vanity and, in particular, the amount of time it took him to get ready to go out.

‘Do you know,' said Isobel, ‘it used to take him over an hour to get his hair just right before he'd go to the pub with me! And once a month, he used to sit in the bath with a shower cap on colouring his hair. It was more like going out with a girl than a man.'

Lucy laughed out loud. Isobel's boyfriend had been a cause of constant amusement to Lucy over the last year. His insistence on looking just right before he went out meant that Isobel was always late. And when she did arrive at parties, she was normally so angry with her boyfriend for making her late that she couldn't enjoy seeing her friends. Arm in arm and laughing at the shared memories of their lack of success with men, the two girls left the Rato Hatti and headed back to their hotel.