She also reflected on the version of herself that had emerged during the clash with the assailants who’d escorted her to Bianca’s car. Where and how had she learned those combat skills?
‘We know they have safe houses and we know where they are located,’ Bianca added. ‘You just need to get those people there.’
Emilia’s first port of call was Ted’s office. Like much of the house, its decoration was minimal. The sole colour came from a wall containing racks of vinyl albums. She picked up the only photograph on display, a framed image Ted hadn’t shown her of the two of them together at an altar. She was dressed in a simple white gown, him in a shirt and tie, and they faced one another as a woman officiated at their ‘wedding’. It was quite convincing.
She directed her attention to his smoked-glass desk. There was no computer or tablet visible or drawers underneath to search. She skimmed through the first of two notepads placed upon it but it was empty. The second used a bookmark but the page it opened at was blank. Then she noticed that the bookmark was actually a swipe card containing the name Edward Karczewski and his photograph. On the bottom-right-hand side of the card was a symbol for the Houses of Parliament, a black-and-white outline.So much for biochemical engineering, she thought.Who was he really?Adrian and Bianca were playing with fire by murdering a government official. And she was guilty by association.
There were no filing cabinets in the room, no cupboards and nowhere to store paperwork. As a last resort, she flicked through some of his album sleeves hoping they might be camouflage for something that could help her. But they were empty, even of records.
A search of Ted’s bedroom proved equally fruitless. She rifled through every pocket of his jackets and trousers, then through three briefcases and two chests of drawers. She scoured each room until she reached the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that ran the entire length of a wall. Finally, she found herself in the kitchen surrounded by the contents of cupboards she’d emptied across the floor. As she feared, nothing gave away who these four strangers were or where they were located.
Emilia peered through the windows, relieved that there was still no sign of anyone else in the house. Her head ached so she took two painkillers from a packet, opened the fridge door and removed a bottle of water. As she closed it, she caught sight of the decorative magnets Ted had explained to her. They were a peculiar thing for him to collect and put on display in a house preoccupied with minimalism. A plastic Mickey Mouse from DisneyCity India, a colourful koala bear from Australia and Leaning Tower of Pisa from Italy demonstrated he was well travelled. The British regional magnets were even less apt. There were a handful of these and she wondered why he went to the trouble of buying them from counties that were so close. A memory of one of the first conversations they had in the hospital room came to mind. ‘As corny as it sounds,’ Ted had said, ‘it was as if we were drawn together like magnets.’
When she had tried to move one of them before, Ted stopped her, claiming it was fragile. Now, it felt perfectlystable as she picked it up to examine it. It was of a church and when she touched a plastic bell in the tower, it played a synthesised version of the hymn ‘In the Secret of His Presence’.
Like a bolt of lightning, it struck her. As each note was released, she pictured four faces she had seen on the CCTV footage on the monitor in the room where she first awoke. They had been sitting alone at tables in different rooms. Two men and two women, their faces were still as clear to her as day. Then without forethought, she began grabbing and separating the British magnets from the international ones. All four included their place names – Manchester, Edzell, Oundle and Aldeburgh. Intuitively, she realised they were the locations that Bianca was so desperate to learn of. But she didn’t know who was living where.
Another magnet was more familiar than the rest – she had seen it earlier today. It was the side profile of a marble bust of William Shakespeare, she recalled. She returned to the bookshelves where she found a section containing leather-bound editions of each of his plays. Every spine contained a profile image of the writer’s head and shoulders and all but one was facing to the left.
The Two Noble Kinsmenwas the exception and she recalled it immediately. In a part-memory in which she’d attacked a man in an electronics shop, she had typed this play’s title into the ReadWell website’s discussion boards.
Quickly searching for it on her phone, she discovered only a handful of mentions of it on ReadWell but no posts in the last few years. What was its relevance? A description referring to it as Shakespeare’s final play helped something else to slot into place. The play was a reference to something coming to an end, she was sure of it. Perhaps like the end of a mission?That’s it, she thought.This is how they communicate with one another.
Suffused by excitement and anticipation, Emilia created a new post, typing it several times because her tremblingfingers kept making errors. Eventually she pressed the ‘return’ button.
The Two Noble Kinsmen.
She held the phone to her chest but the delight in her achievement was short-lived when she heard voices elsewhere in the house. Quietly, Emilia made her way downstairs to a set of bifold doors which offered her access to a patio. From there, she ran towards the woodland where she knew she could reach the rear gate and let herself out.
She turned her head to catch several figures in pursuit. She couldn’t be sure how many there were but she wasn’t going to wait to find out. Faster she raced until the divide between them was too far for them to catch up, yet the further apart they became, the louder their voices were. It didn’t make sense. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but their unintelligible chatter terrified her more than being able to understand them. Their mutterings rang in her ears until she was forced to throw her hands over them to block them out.
As she made it out of the gate, along the road and back towards Bianca’s car, she caught just one of their words.
Traitor.
Chapter 47
BRUNO, OUNDLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE
Bruno leaned against a set of railings outside the reception area of the sandstone building, waiting for the automated sliding doors to open.
Twenty minutes had passed since he’d followed Karen Watson and the girl in the wheelchair from their home to here. He’d waited until they had entered before he left his car. A hammer, his murder weapon of choice for all the names on his list, remained inside the glovebox. There was something about using that weapon that appealed more than a knife or a firearm. It was more personal, more destructive, it took more energy to swing it and land blow after blow than simply plunging a blade into someone’s flesh. It was messier but he was careful – he chose his moments when there were no witnesses, no CCTV cameras and he left no trace of himself.
Bruno’s pulse elevated ever so slightly when Watson returned to view, now alone, and making her way along the corridor and towards the exit. He removed his phone from his pocket and as he approached her, he pretended to be distracted by something he was reading. He made sure to collide with her, dropping the device to the floor.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began, bending over to pick it up.
‘I haven’t seen one of those for a few years,’ she replied, looking at the clamshell-shaped device.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, hi, it’s you,’ he said, and added a smile for good measure.
‘Hello there,’ she replied. From her expression and polite response, there was recognition but she was struggling to place him.
‘Last time it was my dog crashing into yours by the river and now it’s me.’
‘Oh, of course,’ she said, the penny having dropped. ‘For a moment I thought you were another parent.’
Another, he repeated to himself,Like she is. So that child is definitely her daughter.
