“Peter is tenacious. He wants to meet you.”
“You told him about me?” I was aghast.
“I told him I was thinking about you one day and he asked me what I knew about you. You had died, Aidan, been dead for five years. I didn’t think it could hurt anything. It got him curious. He mentioned you only a few weeks ago. When you showed up, I called him. I was so excited, I’m sorry.”
“No one knows about me, Cammy. What do you think they would do to me if they did?”
“I don’t know but I trust him.”
“When’s he coming?” I was resigned.
“This afternoon. I’d like to take you to town, pick up a few things for you.”
“I’m fine, Cammy. I have what I need. I’d better get back to school.”
“You’re on Holiday. Break’s a week long, isn’t it?”
“Classes start next Monday. I need to do a few things before then.”
“What?”
I looked away, didn’t want to tell her I was planning a robbery to replenish my coffers and fund my term fees before they were due. I needed to be gone before the Inspector turned up.
Cammy was disappointed but let me go. Gave me a kiss and made me promise to keep in touch. I wouldn’t tell her the name of the school but she knew the area and wouldn’t find it too hard to look it up.
I left around mid afternoon, right before tea.
Chapter 31
Perched on the window ledge of an eight-story brownstone, I sat quietly enjoying the view. Behind me were the Park and the Regent’s Hotel. At first, I thought about ripping off tourists staying there but that bothered me. Thousands of miles from home and to lose all your cash in a strange place would be terrifying. Who knew if they could afford it?
From the hotel’s rooftop, I had surveyed the skyline, seen the brownstone, one of several just across the Park, and occupied by a variety of businesses from a Chinese take out on the east corner to a whole floor for an import/export firm from China.
The one I was interested in was on the top floor; I’d watched men in suits, casual attire, gangsta bangers, and Goth wear go in, out in a curious stream that showed a deliberate lack of rhythm yet a monotonous frequency. All carrying backpacks, bags, or manila envelopes. When police drove by, their movements ceased.
My curiosity was tweaked and I’d climbed to the roof off another building careful to avoid the CCTVs on the street corners.
I spotted an open window, shimmied in. I was over 6’2” now, but thin, whippy. Cammy had asked me if I worked out and I’d laughed. My workouts consisted of climbing everything I could put my hands on. Lifting your own body weight by your hands alone tended to shape you and keep you that way. As does running along rooftops.
My shoulders had filled out, my arms and legs corded with muscles but you wouldn’t know it unless you saw me naked or grabbed me. I let no one do either.
I pulled at the crotch of my jeans. They bound me in climbing and my trainers had a tendency to slip on slate roofs, especially in areas that burned coal and coated the roofs with soot.
Once I had money, I would treat myself to some climbing gear. Rope, leggings, decent slippers. I hoped this place would provide the blunt to do so.
Inside, I moved through a warren of cubby hole offices with computer terminals all flickering and automatic programs running that were taking orders for cheap Chinese made trinkets---the stuff that used to say ‘made in Japan.’ toys, balls, hats, gadgets, all sold through catalog mail order and flea markets. One floor was a warehouse, stocked with boxes and the few I opened showed the cheap trash that sold for gag gifts and quick turnaround. Frogs that held wax chunks that melted with a light bulb, for God’s sake! I shook my head and replaced the lid.
The last floor was a series of large offices with all the latest mod conveniences behind serious locks and an alarm system. Since I was already inside, they didn’t register.
The biggest office had a huge flat screen TV on the wall, leather couches, recliners with end tables, a wet bar, refrigerator stocked with high end stouts, ales, Cristal Champagne, and bottled Perrier. Truffles. I popped a few into my mouth and nearly died from delight as the rich chocolate melted on my tongue. Scarfed up more, thought about taking ‘em all but they’d just melt in my pockets.
There was a funny looking art sculpture on the wall, flat and looked like a cross between hubcaps and pot lids. I moved it and there was a safe behind, recessed into the wall. A Martini/Weiss.
I can pick locks. I’d started as a kid playing in the cellars of my home in Cornwall, opening the big iron ones on the cell doors. Progressing to the padlocks and door locks on the barns and house. Even cars and trucks didn’t deter me. I had never tried a safe before and the dial on this one was not a numbered turn but a digital touch pad. Nine numbers, a million possibilities, more if the combination was more than four numbers.
I pushed 0-0-0-0 and to my utter surprise and satisfaction, the thing opened silently. Inside were stacks of Euros and a ledger. Some of the names I recognized, politicians and media darlings. Ticked by each name was a sum and a date. Contributions. Bribes. Sale of,. I was looking at someone’s blackmail and pay off ledger. There was only about 5000 in the stack and the last pay off date and amount equaled that. I pocketed the cash, stuffing it into my jacket and inside my shirt. It wasn’t much, no thicker than a deck of playing cards. Nothing else was in the safe and nothing else tempted me. Like I said before, cash didn’t ask for provenances or IDs.
I shut the safe, wiped off my fingerprints and went back over everything I might have touched and did the same.
Being dead, no one had kept my prints and I wasn’t in any database of Criminal Files. I preferred to keep it that way.
I exited the building the same way I’d climbed in. Spent an hour in an all night coffee house leaving in the morning on the first train back to school.
No one got off at the station; the Holiday wasn’t over for another day and it would be crowded with returning students. Some would come by rail, most would be driven back by their families or trustees or bodyguards. Arriving in limos, Mercedes or Range Rovers, the Head Master would be standing at the Grand Entrance to escort the sons of the very wealthy executives; imported Royalty and rock stars in, the teachers would fawn over English peers and the rest.
I would sneak down later for tea.
Chapter 32
Mr. Compton-Baird was going on about wormholes and time travel and how it was theoretically possible to do so, that the only glitch in it was how to prevent time anomalies. I’d read many books on the subject, like going back and shooting Hitler before he came into power. It was assumed that you could change history but those who won and didn’t necessarily tell the real story wrote history. I’d found my own loopholes in the twists I’d performed.
His pale eyes remained on me while we engaged in a heated discussion. But then, I had inside knowledge of the phenomenon. He thought it was impossible even if the theorists said it could be done. He said time was immutable.
“Time is a river,” I said. “My eyes have seen it.”
“You’re a strange young man, Aidan,” he answered finally. He went on to tell us about the physics of how light traveled through space time, how the weight of a black hole bent space and time around it and then gave us assignments to read Steven Hawkins, The Theory of Everything. I’d already read it, devoured it in only an hour. Wanted to see him, talk to him. Thought about going down to Cambridge and doing just that.
On the last bell, we all jumped up and rushed for the door to meet the crowd coming from English Lit and heads above the rest, I spotted Chelmsley and his pal, Glenellen. Let someone close by my elbow and saw Khalid.
“Have a good Holiday?” he asked quietly. He wore his neat uniform, blue slacks, starched Oxford, and the school jacket. Mine was second hand, a bit tight and shop-worn.
“Don’t make trouble, Aid,” he continued. “He’s pissed. Broke Daddy’s expensive new car, been grounded for two month
s and he’s looking for trouble.”
“He’s not taking it out on either of us,” I grumbled.
Khalid studied me. “Something’s different about you, Aid.” his eyes widened and he smiled. “You got laid!” I blushed, confirming his guess. “Tell me?” he begged.
“No. It’s private.” Chelmsley passed us by with a stare that promised ‘later.’ I sighed, hoisted my pack over one shoulder, and turned for the dining hall. I actually had enough to splurge on three meals a day for the next term.
Some of the teachers were in line for tea and biscuits. Breakfast was one meal you could always count on to be hot, filling and tasty. It ran from scones to kippers with everything in between. I loaded my tray and carried it over to a table near the window, eating with my back protected and keeping an eye open for attacks. Khalid sat next to me, picking at his tortillas and dates.
“Where did you go on Holiday?”
“London. Saw Big Ben and Parliament. Hyde Park. You?”
“Home to Dubai. Said hello to most of the family.”
“That must have taken forever,” I commented. He had like, forty brothers and sisters.
“Went swimming, deep sea fishing.”
“I noticed your tan,” I said and he choked on his tea, laughing.
“What’s her name?”
I eyeballed him. “Not saying their names.”
“Names? You dog. Is it as wonderful as it seems?” he asked wistfully.
“Khalid, it’s the best thing ever happened to me,” I smiled remembering the feel of her, the softness of her skin, how her hair swept across my face and tickled me, how the lovely flush colored her whole body and how she moaned into my mouth.
She told me I was gentle and sensitive; would go a long way to treat a lady with respect and not like a tart. Cammy had said other lovely things.
“Aidan, that’s a very telling smile on your face,” he seemed sad all of a sudden. I wondered if his own experience with Chelmsley had not proven satisfactory.
Asked delicately, “You ever…you know, in the rest room? At home?”
“Jerked off? Yeah, haven’t you?”
I mumbled something, embarrassed.
“Chelmsley does it all the time. He’ll fuck a melon if it has a hole.”
“I’m afraid Chelmsley and Glenellen are going to find their lives seriously compromised,” I said and although he badgered me, I wouldn’t say anymore, just smiled.
Chapter 33
The iPhone Cammy had given me came with a charger and I’d taken it up to my lair in the attics and plugged it in. Played with it and surfed the net, found a listing for two old chums from ten years back.
Called and was put off by secretaries with posh accents and smarmy mouths. I left a message with my name and cell number. They called me hours later and I answered, the listing said unknown/blocked.
“Hullo?”
“Who is this?” the rough accented voice snarled.
“Harry, who else would call you?” I returned. “Or is it Schnee?”
“I go by Schneider now, young Aidan,” he said suddenly lighter. “How old are you now?”
“Sixteen.”
“Where are you?”
“Somerset. School for the gifted. I’m on a scholarship.”
“And what can I do for you?” He sounded wary.
“Are you still in the same business, Schnee? I mean, Mr. Schneider?”
“Aidan!” He was shocked. “You’re not doing drugs?”
“No,” I surprised he thought so. “No, I want the other thing.”
There was a pregnant pause. “Like our late friend in the country?”
“The one pushing up daisies.”
“No. I don’t do that kind of thing anymore. I’m into stock brokering. You need something taken care of?”
“Two budding sexual predators.”
“They start young, don’t they, Aidan? I can pass the word on,” he sounded sad.
“How’s Harry?”
“Went to Africa after Tom was killed. Hear from him every few months. He works Security in Capetown, has his own firm.” He named a company I’d heard provided security for big name celebrities and rock stars. “Will you tell him I said hullo?”
“I will. You talk to Cammy?”
“I saw her last weekend,” I answered. “She’s looking well>“
“And how are you doing, Aidan?” There was a wealth of unspoken curiosity in his question.
“Fine.”
“I’ll get back to you, soon. This number secure?”
“Cammy gave me the phone. I’m back only a few months, Schnee, Schneider.”
“You can call me Schnee, Aidan. Don’t worry; your problem will go away. Ta,” he hung up; I shut the phone off and went contentedly to sleep.
Screams woke me. Long, wailing sobs of terror that I heard all the way up into my attic garret. I rolled over away from the wall, groped for my shirt and pants, pulled them on and listened. Heard my name called and went searching.
On the main hallway through the east attics, I found Khalid on his hands and knees, bloody and beaten.
“Holy crap! What happened I squatted near him and sat him down so I could check him over. His face was swollen almost unrecognizable, his eyes closed into slits. Three of his fingers on his right hand bent backwards; his shins had been deliberately scraped down the bone so they looked like road rash. There was blood on his underwear and I could smell crap.
“Khalid, what happened? Did Chelmsley do this?”
“Aidan, hide,” he whispered. “He’s coming for you. He heard it was you that pissed his bed. I told him I wasn’t his flunky, his pimp anymore.”
“Did he fuck you, Khalid?”
“He watched while his team took turns,” he said faintly. “I feel like I’m bleeding inside.”
“Can you stand up?” I put my hands under his armpits, helped him to his feet and we hobbled slowly down the main hallway passing medieval armor stacked in corners along with weapons of every kind.
“Where are we going?” he whispered.
“To the freight lift. I’m taking you to casualty. You need medical attention, Khalid. You’re bleeding.”
“He’s waiting for you.”
“I hope he finds me,” I snarled and snagged a blade as we went by.
It took me twenty minutes to walk him the short distance to the lift. Khalid collapsed into a puddled as I closed the gates and pushed the button for the ground floor and the kitchens. I knew a way out that Chelmsley and his cohorts would not.
I hoisted his pale form over my shoulder and carried him to the door where deliveries were brought in and went in search of Mr. C-B. He lived on the school grounds and I knew he would help.
The moon was out and the pathway through the yew hedge. I slipped between the lane and across the lawn towards the cottages and ran into someone’s arm. Spun me around and smashed the backs of my knees so that I fell face first into the grass. Another body landed on my back and pressed me into the dirt. I bucked and cursed, struggling, their hands and weight pinning me. I could barely breathe.
“Get off me!”
“Not bloody likely, you cunt,” his voice said in my ear. He sat back, one hand on my neck and the other groped for the waistband of my jeans.
I yelled. Shoved to get my hands out from under me. Air hit my ass as he tugged my pants down, pulled my cheeks apart.
“Ellie,” he grunted and another boy sat on my head, pushing my face into the grass. I started to suffocate, felt him dig between my legs.
“Holy Christ,” he said. “His dick is bigger than mine. His bollocks, too. You bring any petroleum jelly?” His voice faded as blackness filled my head. I heard an intense buzzing. I prayed to die before he stuck his dick in me.
Air rushed into my lungs and the weight came off, hands hoisted me to my feet. I heard the sounds ‘chunk’, ‘thump’, a choked off scream and someone was holding me as I puked. I held my pants up.
“You okay, Ai
dan?” I stared into Mr. Compton-Baird’s concerned eyes and that of a dark man dressed in midnight blue. His hair was black, eyes dark brown, his skin a matte black. His teeth were brilliant white in the dark. He wore gloves and I smelled the odor of coppery blood, saw great gouts of it on the grass, two dark bundles next to the edge.
“Careful,” the black man said. “He bruised your larynx.”
“Are they dead?” I stared. No movement.
“I bloody well hope so,” he returned. “Just returning a favor for a friend, mate. I’ll take this garbage away when I trot off. Ciao.”
He tucked one of each under his arm and disappeared.
“Christ,” I whispered, holding my sore throat. “Khalid!” I went on to explain and Mr. C-B called 999. All hell broke loose and both of us wound up going to casualty.
Chapter 34
I opened my eyes after a night fraught with nightmares of strange faces, needles, X-rays and the stink of a hospital.
Khalid and I had both screamed bloody murder when they tried to separate us. Mr. C-B sat with us all night and he’d told me he’d called Khalid’s dad.
I looked over at my right and saw another bed in the semi-private room of a private hospital and clearly not one of national health. Khalid was lying quietly on his side watching me with a liter of blood hanging from a pole. He looked pasty and his face was a mess. My eyes went to his hand and it was in a plaster cast of puke lime green.
“Hey,” I rasped my throat hoarse. “How are you?”
“Alive. Thanks to you.” His eyes were filled with hero worship.
“Not me, Khal.” I shook my head and wished I had not. My neck ached as if a rugby guard had sat on it. Which he had.
“A friend sent a…fixer.”
“He fixed those two good,” he whispered. “Mr. C-B told me what happened. You okay?”
“He didn’t bugger me,” I shuddered. “Christ, Khalid, there was blood, liters of it, everywhere. I think he cut their throats.”
“Mr. C-B said no one’s found their bodies.”
“They won’t.” I knew that Schnee would make sure of that. A nurse walked in, smiled at the sight of us, and helped me to sit up.
“How are you, Aidan? Prince Khalid?”
“Throat’s sore,” I whispered.
“Your larynx was bruised when your assailant sat on you. Your father is here, Prince Khalid. The DI from Somerset wishes to speak to both of you when he’s present.”