THE FORTUNATE ONE

(Continuing David Blaine’s Story, which began with The Golden Orb)

Direct sequel to In A Desert Place

By Atonia Walpole

(Picture creations also by Atonia)

Part 1

A shaft of colored light cut across the gloom, highlighting the dust motes that floated in the air, giving them a sparkle like fairy dust. Lyssa Blaine concentrated on the sparkles, watching them settle on the shiny wooden box that held her mother. The sparkles were everywhere. You could breathe them. She looked down at her sparkly shoes, new black patent slippers. She swung her legs from the wooden pew and found her father’s hand.

The doors finally closed in the chapel, overly loud to his sensibilities. All around him in the warmth of humanity in this damp cold place he could hear people clearing their throats, whispers back and forth.  He felt Lyssa at his side and took her hand in his, small innocent hand…innocent. A candle had burned out somewhere. He could smell burnt wax.

“All rise.”

He stood up, holding Lyssa.

Lyssa rested her head on her father’s shoulder and looked at the faces behind her. They averted their eyes and wouldn’t look directly at her. Except for Miss Langston. Martha Langston gave her a steady, strong look without pity.

“Our Father Who art in Heaven…”

David Blaine had ceased to listen. He stared straight ahead, feeling the weight of his daughter in his arms and seeing with his mind’s eye the startled look in her eyes when Charlie fell with her in her arms. Her face had crumpled and she began to scream when her head hit the pavement, just before he’d thrown himself on top of them.

She’d  been autopsied, he’d been questioned, Lyssa had been questioned…there were no answers. A single bullet could be a professional hit…but aimed at whom?  Had it been him they were trying to kill? He’d leaned over for a second to toss a cigarette butt in a receptacle; that millisecond and Charlie lay dead outside their favorite restaurant. He rose, he knelt, he stood, he bowed his head all on command. He felt nothing except a cold emptiness.

Chief Inspector George Aziz sat two pews behind David and Lyssa. Things regarding Charlie Blaine’s past and her husband’s didn’t add up. His nose told him he wasn’t being told the truth. Blaine was lying, but why? His eyes rested on the back of Martha Langston’s grey head. She’d stood behind David Blaine and backed him up for the last four years but prior to that things got fuzzy. And Charlie Stevens-Blaine didn’t officially exist. He sighed. She didn’t now anyways.

Robert Cramer struggled to keep his lips from trembling. It hadn’t seemed real, not until now, now that he sat in the chapel and knew the casket at the head of the aisle held Charlie. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. Of course there was no way to know for certain who killed her unless they caught the culprit and he didn’t think that was going to happen. It was a professional hit, a style he wasn’t unfamiliar with. He blinked his dark eyes a few times and regarded Blaine. God only knew what was in his past. Could have been meant for him. They had agreed on that. There was just nothing to go on, no clues…nothing they could grasp…at least not yet.

Brian Brown blew his nose. He had an awful cold and sitting in this damp, cold little church wasn’t helping. Pamela patted his arm, thinking he was shedding tears for Charlie. He smiled a little and acknowledged her. It was tragic about Charlie. Of course that was the chance they all took when they went into covert service. Somewhere along the way you were going to piss somebody off, somebody with a long memory and a long reach. Why somebody could be lying in wait for him this very moment. Yeah, could be. Kind of like a soldier getting killed, a chance you took, so why should anybody be surprised when it happened. Of course everybody had a different take on it. Newspapers put it down to gang activity, stray bullet. Now the neighborhood was all up in arms over the safety of their streets. Police were clueless…he glanced over toward Aziz to find him looking back. Brian sniffed and turned around. It unnerved him. That guy was creepy.

They filed out of the church, umbrella’s opening, some to their cars and some elected to stay for the internment. An umbrella opened over David and Lyssa as they stepped onto the walk. He was oblivious to those around him but seeping into his subconscious came a familiar scent.

“Ali.” He spoke softly without turning.

“I am here, my brother.” Ali walked slightly behind and to his right, holding an umbrella over them.

Cramer walked a few paces behind, fully aware of the man holding the umbrella. That man walking here on English soil, that man was responsible for the golden orb debacle. He could have him picked up. Cramer inhaled quickly as they climbed the path toward the cemetery. He knew Charlie would be appalled at the thought. She wouldn’t have permitted it. Still he itched for it.

As Brian carefully picked his way through the wet leaves, he tried to catch Cramer’s eye but didn’t. He, too, had noticed the Arab among them. It boiled up inside of him, Blaine and the Prince of Arabia. Something would have to be done about that… eventually.

David stood by the grave with the scent of freshly turned earth, the rain, he took a hand full of damp earth and tossed it on the casket. “Charlie…I loved you,” he said almost to himself. Lyssa tossed a red rose someone had handed her onto the casket and he picked her up and kissed her then turned and walked with her away from the grave, wanting to run away from this place and keep running.

“Daddy, you forgot the umbrella man.” Lyssa looked over his shoulder at Ali, who walked a few paces behind.

He didn’t slow until he reached the car and secured Lyssa in her seat. He turned, wet hair plastered across his forehead, his eyes ravaged. Ali had folded the umbrella and he, too, stood on the curb in the rain.

“Blaine…let me help you.”

“I’m going home.” He looked down. “You can follow if you wish.”

Ali’s driver and bodyguards were frantic over him, getting him into the car and then told to follow Blaine.

Blaine helped Lyssa out of her dress clothes, now damp from the rain. He found a matching set of sweats for her and went down with her to the kitchen. Ali had remained in the front reception room but now he walked back to the kitchen.

“I’ve got to make her tea,” David said, moving from the fridge to the stove. Lyssa sat at the table regarding the man who’d come in.

“Who are you? I’m Lyssa and that’s my Daddy.”

Ali smiled at the little girl. “My name is Ali and I am a friend of your daddy." He took a seat across the table from her.

“My Mumma is killed.”

“I know. I am very sorry for you.”

David glanced from one to the other, trusting Ali with his daughter.

“When did you arrive?” he asked Ali.

“Last night. I flew from Dubai. You know of my circumstance…”

“Yes…your family…?”

“Safe. I am sorry I could not come sooner.”

“I did not expect you at all. Thank you.”

“I know in times like this it is important to look someone in the eye and say the words. If there is anything at all, Blaine, that I can do.”

David shook his head and placed a plate of fish fingers with bread and butter in front of his daughter. He reached across the table and turned on the little TV for her.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes, I would.” Ali watched him move around the kitchen as if on auto pilot. “What can I do?”

“Do you have an all-seeing eye…did you see who pulled the trigger…did you see who paid for it? I don’t know where to start. It is not clear now…it is not clear…”

“I do not know. If I did they would be in my custody.”

“No…mine. I have talked with her employer. We are trying to find out if the hit came from anyone she may have fingered, anyone at all who may have cause to wish her …so far nothing. For myself there are too many to name.  I have done many things in my life. There are many things for me to consider.”

“I pray it does not come down to your association with me. I cannot go home. If it were not for my cousin I don’t know where I would be.”

“How fast our lives have changed.” David swallowed hard and poured out two mugs of tea.

“Will you stay here…in the house?”

“No. The local police have been very gracious. They check by often but they cannot protect me or my daughter. I have a place for her. It is safe if not ideal, but it won’t be for long. I hope only a temporary separation until this thing is settled. There are many avenues I must travel and I must travel them alone.”

“You…this is not a job for you, Blaine. You are not prepared for this.”

“Then I will prepare myself to do what must be done. I will find the person responsible for Charlie’s death.”

Ali closed his eyes a moment. “Then at least let me send someone with you.”

David shook his head. “No, I do not want anymore sacrifices on my behalf. I will do the thing that must be done and return to my daughter. You know, Ali, I am not completely without resources.”

Ali looked into his eyes. Martial arts, yes he was a master, but that would not be a defense against a bullet. “Your greatest resource is up here. Use your mind…and stay alive.”

Blaine smiled a little. “I have much to live for. Charlie taught me that and she’s left me a reason to live.”

Part 2

Martha Langston lived in a rambling old house. It had once been two houses but they’d been joined together for as long as she’d known of the property and she’d lived in it for thirty-odd years. She waited in the doorway for David Blaine and his daughter Lyssa. It had rained every day for two weeks and her drive was a muddy mess. She didn’t bother with it as she had few visitors and the fewer the better as far as she was concerned. She kept on good terms with her neighbors and thus had firewood, manure for her gardens and an occasional handyman when she needed one. In turn she supplied them with cuttings, seeds and a rare bout of gardening. She had always led a solitary life and had yet to figure out how David Blaine had entered it and made a room for himself.

He had no one else and so he came to Margret with his daughter and she’d agreed.

At last she saw his little car slowly making the turn into her drive. She threw on her anorak, hoisted the two boards leaning against the house under her arm and followed the brick walkway to the drive. She was intending to put them down to keep her visitors out of the muck.

“Let me help you with that.” David opened his car door.

“Close the damn door so I can put the boards down.”

He did as he was told.

Once inside Lyssa stayed close to him. Although she’d been told she was to stay for awhile and she knew Miss Langston from the trip to Saudi Arabia the year before, she watched the woman move around her large old-fashioned kitchen a little apprehensively. David finally took her on his lap and gave her one of the biscuits Martha had set out.

With cups of tea at hand she sat down at the table and took one of the biscuits and bit into it. “I don’t know anything about children. You know that. I’ve been up front and honest with you so I’ll treat her as an adult with certain limitations. I don’t expect anything of her except to do as she’s told.”

“She will need help with her clothes and with her bath. She does not read but likes to be read to.”

Martha looked at Lyssa. “How old are you?”

“Four,” she swallowed and held up four fingers.

“I’ve brought some of her books and things.” He hated to ask for her help but there was no one else. No one in his world anymore. “I do not know how long I will be gone but I will call you.”

“You’d bloody well better call.” Martha set back in her chair. “Blaine, she is your daughter and so I will keep her safe from harm.”

“Thank you...Martha.”

She smiled. How long had she been trying to get him to use her first name? “You don’t know where you’re going, I reckon?”

“No, not yet.”

She turned her cup around a few times. “I wish you’d leave it to the police. Aziz seems a sensible fellow. I’ve told him everything except about the trip to Saudi but I imagine he’ll find out about that sooner or later. His kind does.”

“Well then, you must tell him the truth. I would not ask a lie of you.”

“I think a lot of you. Don’t know why, but I do. I really don’t want my name in the middle of this.  It’s not good for business, not the kind of business I do. I won’t lie for you.” But she wouldn’t volunteer anything either.

“I am so very sorry. Nothing good has come from your association with me. I have caused you problems you didn’t need.”

“I didn’t need them, that’s true, but you’re wrong about the association, as you call it…way off the mark. I’ve lived my life with no one to care about except myself. That’s not good. This is the result of boiling a solitary egg every morning. I never had need of anybody within these walls, never married, and never had children. I hope I don’t embarrass you. I know it was hard for you to call me about Lyssa. I don’t mind it.”

David bit his lip and blinked away the wetness in his eyes. “You are very kind.”

“Nonsense! I needed somebody to find my backdoor key and I figure Lyssa can get down and look underneath that bureau over there and see if that’s where it fell to.”

Lyssa looked at her father and he nodded so she went to the bureau and lay down on the floor to see. Martha handed her a little torch. “I see it!” She wiggled underneath the bureau and came out with the old black key and a big smile.

David smiled too. It would be all right. He looked up to see her looking at him with a little smile, “Don’t worry about her.”

“No…”

Her eyes stung. She didn’t cry, not ever, but something about this man. “Well, um, would you like to stay for dinner? There’s cottage pie.”

“Thank you very much but I am going into London tonight, dinner with Robert Cramer. There could be something, I don’t know.” He shrugged wearily.

“All right then. Careful on the motorway…the rain…”

“Yes.” He stood and gathered Lyssa up for a kiss and a hug. “Don’t be a bother now.”

“I’ll be a helper,” she said.

Martha took her hand and walked with him to the door. “Good luck to you and be careful,” she said as he turned at the step.

He turned his car around in the drive and headed out. Martha watched his tail lights until they were lost in the rain and fog.

The car seemed empty without Lyssa’s seat in the back, like the passenger seat beside him where Charlie should be and would never be again. He took a deep breath and turned on the defogger. Ali would be back in Dubai by now. He’d gone home after two days. There was nothing he could do for him and no reason for him to stay, but he’d been touched that he’d come.

David closed up the house, unsure what he wanted to do about it but sure he couldn’t stay there alone. Until the truth was known he didn’t want to put Lyssa in danger by being with him and so he’d taken her to Martha and now was on his way to London. Cramer had secured him a flat and David only brought with him what he could fit in a carryon bag should he need to travel.

Cramer had come to him after word of Charlie’s death reached his office. He was as eager to find the killers as Blaine. He genuinely cared about Charlie and offered his services and that of his office. David wasn’t sure he wanted the involvement yet but Cramer was good at brainstorming and that’s what he planned to do at dinner.

Cramer chose the restaurant, a quiet little Italian place where they could talk. He had a table in the corner where he could watch the door and see who came and went. The owner, Lorenzo, brought David to the table and took his drink order.

“Still raining?”

“Yes, all the way into the city.”

“How’s your daughter?”

“Well, she, ah, still asks questions for which I have no answers. I have taken her to stay with a friend.”

“That’s good…that she’s got a place to stay while we get this business sorted out. I had a visit from Aziz today. He understands my position but he has a job to do. He’s pulled the custom’s records so he’ll soon know when and where you and Charlie have been. He’s smart, Blaine, and already questioning passports.”

“You know…I do not care what he questions. If he comes up with something that will help me, I will talk with him but I do not care to tell him the story of my life.”

“He asked about the work she was doing and, honestly, she hasn’t done anything since Hong Kong that I would worry about.”

David regarded him a moment. “What about Hong Kong has you worried?”

“Oh, I just meant danger-wise, she never finished the job in DC and since then it’s just been research. Work that anybody could do, really.”

They waited until their drinks were set before them and they placed an order for dinner.

“Talk to me about Hong Kong. She was with me…”

“Yes, she was up until the boat exploded and you disappeared.”

“She was asleep, drugged, and woke just before the boat went up. She stumbled and fell down the steps. I was already away before the boat exploded. She said she ran down the beach and fell. She’d been hurt falling down the steps and she passed out, maybe still under the drugs she was given. Some time passed before she was brought to the boat where I was.”

“Brown went out to the house. He said it was empty and by then the boat had sunk. Said he went down on the shore but he didn’t see Charlie. He thought she’d gone with you.”

“Brownie was in my house…?” David looked away, frowning.

“Yeah, said it was empty. Your houseman or whatever he was had disappeared.”

“Kim…gone to deliver the news of my death to my mother.”

“That didn’t bother you?”

“Of course it did. I had planned to be on that boat. It would have set things right for my family’s honor.”

Part 3

Dinner was over but Cramer wasn’t finished with David. “There is, of course, the incident in Saudi. She killed a man. She told me about that, Blaine. It bothered her even though it was self defense. Charlie wasn’t a killer. It bothered her a lot. Anyhow I’m wondering if this guy had friends who might want to avenge his death or something?”

“I don’t think he was ever important enough to anyone…important enough for revenge. Did she also tell you who he was?”

“She said he belonged to Ali.”

“That is true. Ali bought him when he was a boy.”

“I’m not going to tip toe around this. I know what Ali was to you.”

“Do you…you think you know…” Blaine shook his head slightly.

“He was your lover…or is.”

“Was…and more than that. He feared for his life and asked for my help. I spent some time in his inner circle. The boy did not love him and was ripe for corruption. I warned him of the danger and…” he picked up his drink, “drew the boy’s affection away to me. He was jealous of me and tried to get rid of Charlie. That is the truth of it. I do not believe someone has come from Saudi to kill her for this. The boy was nothing…not worth a life. That is not my way of thinking, Cramer. It is the way of things. I was sorry for his death but I would have killed him myself for what he did to Charlie.”

“I see…”

“What do you see?”

“I see you are a very complicated man, a man of strong feelings.”

“I am a man who loves, who has loved deeply. I am not ashamed of who I am.”

“No…no, you’ve no reason to be and, hey, I’m not shocked, not put off by you at all. I thought the first time I ever met you that you might swing both ways.  That’s all right,” he shrugged. “To each his own.”

David took a drink. “We have covered a lot of territory and found nothing of interest regarding Charlie. So I must believe I was the target and her death was an accident.”

“Who wants you dead?”

David smiled a little. “How far back do I need to go?”

“Well, I don’t know. When did you start making enemies and why?”

“Perhaps when I was a school boy. People fear that which they do not understand. Fear takes many forms. I was an English boy in China and then a Chinese boy in England. Sometimes I knew too much and others not enough.  I learned to live in both worlds.”

“Have you always been, um…what is it…bisexual?”

“Yes.”

“Jealousy drove that boy to his death in Saudi. You think there is anybody out there that has that kind of feeling toward you now?”

“I…I don’t think so. There is only Ali.”

“When you were in Hong Kong I know you worked for other agencies from time to time.  What did you stir up there?”

“Nothing. I don’t cause a problem for anyone. I lived there for a long time openly. If someone wanted to do me harm, in the street or in my bed, the opportunity was there.”

Cramer picked up his drink. David’s hair had dried in waves and ringlets around his face, his green eyes clear and open, he looked younger than his thirty-six years except for the circles under his eyes. Charlie had loved him, married him and had his child. He reached in his pocket and handed Blaine a key.

“I got it for a month, It belongs to another agent who’s out of the country. It’s a secure building.”

Blaine took the key and looked up. ”Nothing is secure when someone wants to end your life.”

“That’s correct, Blaine, but when I say it’s a secure building, I mean that. It’s only when you leave you gotta be looking over your shoulder. Come by in the morning and we’ll talk some more.”

David took out his wallet and Cramer stopped him. “Buy me a cuppa one day.”

“Good night, Cramer.”

David entered the flat and immediately was transported back to Hong Kong. It was the smell of incense, strong Patchouli, and something else, jasmine. He closed the door behind him. Lights from the window played across something glittering and moving he realized it was a beaded curtain. He moved into the space and found a lamp. The beaded curtain formed a wall at one end of the room, and beyond that he could see a bed. The walls were painted a deep magenta. He moved around the room slowly taking it in. Now and again there was a tinkling of bells. Some of the beads contained tiny bells. They moved with the air coming from the central heating vent. The flat was warm but not overly so. The warmth came not from the vent but from the colors and furnishings. The kitchen was a tiny strip of cabinetry containing a cooker, fridge and sink combination. He found a tea kettle and filled it. While he waited he turned on a CD player. Whatever was playing sounded like background music, sounds of nature, the riff of a piano, a touch of violin.

The space was very tactile. Art on the wall invited you to touch and he did, touched the sculptures, the baskets, the silken pillows on the low sofa. He took off his shoes to feel the crunchiness of the rugs between his toes. Later he admired the bed, a large low platform floating in the middle of the room without headboard or footboard. There were no limitations. He let himself sink into it and slept through the night for the first time since Charlie’s death.

He used her soap and shampoo, the unknown woman who’s space he’d slept in. By the time he locked the door to leave he felt he would know her immediately should he ever meet her.

The building housed a number of medical offices and flats used by families of patients housed in the private hospital connected by way of an arched walkway. David had been advised of the many different exits and made use of one of the hospital’s  alleyway doors. He hunched his raincoat around his neck and walked briskly to the street behind the hospital. From there he took the underground near Trafalgar and then walked to the building where Cramer’s division had their offices.

The nondescript atmosphere of the place hid the work it accomplished beneath the surface, behind closed doors, just out of sight. Cramer was on the phone but motioned Blaine into his office. He hung up and cleared a space on his desk. “That was Aziz. He’s on his way up here…to see you.”

David parted his lips. “I have nothing for him.”

“Maybe he has something for us.”

Chief Inspector George Aziz was the product of an English mother and an Indian father. He was well educated, married and the father of three girls. He was a well-respected policeman. “Good morning,” he bowed slightly to Cramer and to Blaine. Blaine returned the gesture; Cramer did not.

“What have you got for us?” Cramer asked.

“Ah, well, I am here to speak with Mr. Blaine. Is there somewhere we may talk privately?”

Cramer chewed his lip. “Sure, right this way.” He led the way down the hall into an interview room.

“Um…a little more privately than this?” He smiled knowingly.

Cramer slid a grin up the side of his face. “All right, you can use this office.” He opened a door to a small cubicle of a room. “This used to be Charlie’s a long time ago. Belongs to someone else now.”

They found seats and Blaine’s eye went to the ceiling. Hanging on a long, thin cord was a mobile or wind chime made of narrow panes of glass. The sound it made as the door closed reminded him of the flat where he was staying. He glanced around for other signs. A single purple iris in a glass vase turned out to be made of glass. It was her cubicle, whoever she was. His attention was drawn to the man sitting opposite, quietly contemplating him.

“Mr. Blaine, I regret that we have not had the opportunity to talk before now. I understand your bereavement. May I express my condolences.”

“Thank you.”

“I have spoken with the local constable and officials involved. I have spoken with my peers at Scotland Yard, the customs and immigration people. Your employer, Miss Langston, and had several interviews with Mrs. Blaine’s former employees and colleagues.”

“And what do you know?”

Aziz studied him a moment. “He was a German, your sniper. Entered the country and left it on the same day. He rented an automobile at Heathrow and the mileage matches a trip to your village and back. So I think we can say who the shooter was. We are now engaged in locating him in Germany. However,” he pushed a photo across the table, “this man is for hire. Someone hired him and that is the person of interest.”

Blaine studied the photo and shook his head. “I do not know this person.”

“It’s highly unlikely that you would.” He smiled quickly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You are not in the business of hiring assassins and therefore would not know where to look, I assume.”

“No…I…”

Two people you are acquainted with are. Prince Ali Hazam and people in this building.”

“Ali…no, he does not hire…he owns them.”

“He does hire when need arises but that is neither here nor there. I don’t believe he is the man we are looking for.”

“No, he is not. He would not harm me or anything I love.” David’s voice betrayed his emotions.

“As I said, he is not a person of interest in this matter.”

David blinked. “In this building…”

“Yes…I am sorry to say…yes.

Part 4

“There must be others who would know him…”

“Indeed…his own government perhaps? They are all in each other’s pockets. Forgive me if I sound unpatriotic. We will, of course, make all attempts to have him brought here for trial and for questioning but, Mr. Blaine, you understand if he does not surface. He is being protected because he knows too much.”

“Knowledge is not protection. It can often mean the opposite.”

“That is true, very true, but either way, you see how our hands are tied.”

“You know who killed her and can do nothing.” He leaned back in his chair and looked away, his mind churning.

“This man, Claude Katz, is only a gun. He is only the one who pulled the trigger, do you understand what I am saying?”
 

 “Yes,” he answered faintly…

Aziz sat back in his chair too and watched the emotions cross Blaine’s face. He’d let down the curtain. “Do not think you will travel to Germany. I would have you picked up at the airport.”

David’s eyes flashed. ”Am I a prisoner then?”

“No, it is for your own protection. Besides the person you seek is not in Germany. He is here in this country but we do not know who he is.”

 David looked down a moment and when he looked back up the curtain was drawn, his face inscrutable. “You said in this building. Then you must know who it is.”

“You are mistaken. I do not know. Someone here wished either you or Charlie dead, wished it enough to hire a professional assassin to do the job. Did he make a mistake and take out the wrong one or not? Mr. Cramer has taken you under his wing, has he not?”

“Um, no, not really. We talked, trying to piece something together. He found a flat for me to stay in while we search. The flat belongs to one of his agents, the same one who now works in this little room when she is here in town.” His eyes went to the glass sculpture again. “Do you suspect Cramer?”

“I suspect everyone and no one and so should you, Mr. Blaine.”

“I don’t know for sure but I think perhaps at some point in time Charlie and Cramer may have had a relationship of some kind. I never asked her and she never told me but something was there. She trusted him and he went to great lengths for her.”

“Ah, you know many things go on in covert operations. Nothing is ever as it seems, such as her name. I couldn’t find anything on her at all, Mr. Blaine.”

“Her name was Charlene Stevens, English but raised in America.”

“She was an American but her name was not Stevens. We are still trying to find out her real name. Cramer is not cooperative on this matter and whether it is because he can withhold information about his operatives or because he is interested in obstructing, I cannot tell.”

“She was an only child. She told me of her parents. They are both deceased now.”

“Take some time and think about what you know of her and who you know because of her. I will be in touch with you and, please, what we have discussed here today is between us.”

“Yes, of course it is.” Blaine stood to follow him out and reached up, touching the mobile, setting off its sound. “Inspector Aziz…”

“Yes, Blaine?” He turned in the doorway.

“Is it still raining?”

“Ah, no, it had stopped when I came in.” He looked at Blaine for a moment and moved on down the hallway.

Cramer stopped Aziz to talk and Blaine took that opportunity to slip by him and head for the door. He found his car in the parking garage and pulled out onto the street. The rain had stopped he headed out of the city for the motorway, anywhere away from it all…somewhere he could think without someone talking to him.

He found himself driving through Maidenhead and out into the country. Finding a layby he pulled off and got out of his car. He walked a little way into a field and sat on the remains of a fence. He’d not had the opportunity to meditate for some time, certainly not since Charlie died. He sat there and let his mind wander. It went to Lyssa, his motherless child so young so…the face of his own mother came to him, her young face when she loved him. Before she took him back to China. He realized now she did not love him in China. She had rejected him because he looked like his father and his father was dead and there was no one to love him.

One of his uncles or cousins had got him into martial arts. He remembered his master’s face, calm, patient. He taught him how to use his body, how to move, how to defend himself. He had been kind to him and David loved him for it. After awhile he dismissed him. There was nothing else he could teach the boy or so he said. David knew it was because he’d told the master of his feelings. Lesson number one…tell no one.

He sighed and looked off  toward a line of trees. Why had he gone back to that place in his past? Without warning or explanation he’d been sent to England to school, the final rejection. He now spoke English with an accent. The young English boy who’d left years before was gone. He was a hybrid now and classless, accepted nowhere.  However outcasts form their own society and he gradually felt the pull. He was brilliant and handsome. Girls and boys, he didn’t remember them all now…did it matter? Nothing mattered until Ali came into his life. Ali was his first love and the great love of his life.

He’d wanted to throw himself into Ali when he came to the house  after the funeral but he couldn’t. There was Lyssa and something else…something that told him it was inappropriate. Instead, a covert kiss, an embrace and promises they both knew they would not keep. That part of his life was over. Charlie was over, too, but he still hadn’t let go of that yet. It was too soon.

Brownie had been in his house. It bothered him that Brownie had been there among his things when he was supposedly dead. What did he do there? A vision of Brownie walking through his bedroom flashed through his mind…no…no…no. Something else formed in his mind, something he’d blocked out. He was in his room at school There were people there in his room. He’d forgotten how many. He went to the bathroom ,the door closed but unlocked. The vision of Brownie wanking off in front of a mirror stayed with him for a long time. It had aroused him and disgusted him at the same time. Brownie saw him. They made eye contact before David slipped out of the door and closed it. Later he found his own dirty underwear in the bathroom. Where Brownie had found them he didn’t know. After that he avoided Brownie. He never told anyone about the incident but Ali had sensed his disgust with Brownie and excluded him from their group. He hadn’t thought about Brownie until he showed up in Hong Kong.

Brownie made out they were great friends from school after running into him in a bar one night. They had never been friends. He didn’t want to think of him now. This was his quiet time, time away from everything. Lyssa had never stayed with anyone before…Lyssa.

He heard a car slow down and turned around, figuring he might be trespassing and walked back to his car. He sat in his car and talked to Martha and Lyssa for awhile. When he checked his messages he had six from Cramer. He didn’t bother to answer any of them. He did not belong to Cramer and owed him nothing. A pub dinner in Maidenhead and he drove back to the parking garage. He took the underground once again back to the hospital area and entered the front door of the hospital.

Entering the flat again he was reminded of a silken cocoon, safe, insulated and alive. The window was a rare delight. On one side he could see nothing but a granite block building. On the other the lights of the city, a glimpse of the Thames. He locked all four locks on the door and started up the CD player again. He lit joss sticks and candles. This is the way she would to it, he thought. She might have a curry takeaway. What would she drink? He rummaged in her cabinets and checked her fridge. No open bottles of wine but he found corks. Red, she liked red wines. He smelled the corks and put them back where he found them. It was a diversion. Somehow he thought she wouldn’t mind his being there. But would he mind…there must be a he, but David found no evidence in her flat of a male companion. He opened her window and smoked his cigarettes after finding an ashtray just outside the casement.

Her desk was locked. It intrigued him. He sat in her chair and turned the calendar page, examined the ornate letter opener and handled the small, black ebony sculpture of a man and woman in eternal embrace. He picked up a doodle pad and flicked through it. She was left- handed, used colored ink pens, drew ornate magical flowers along the margins. She was very careful and wrote nothing down that might give someone like himself any clue as to what her name was. After a while he gave up the game. His mind wanted to wander over something else and he’d been pushing it away. Charlie.

He moved to the bed behind the beaded curtain, removed his shoes and lay across it. He missed her terribly. Just into the third week now and his mind still couldn’t get around the fact that she would not be coming home again. He wanted to block out the scene outside the restaurant, think that she was on a trip and would be coming home soon. His mind could accept that, not his blood-covered child, not the hole in her head from the bullet. Oh, his breath caught in his throat. He curled into a fetal position. Charlie was gone but there was Lyssa, a part of Charlie still left for him.  She had shared so much with him, the good and the bad, in such a brief amount of time. Charlie…Charlie and Cramer…questions Aziz asked rolling around in his head. Why did he think that there had been something between them? Why had he never asked her?

He woke in the middle of the night still dressed and lying on the bed. He got up and went into the kitchen area and made himself a cup of tea. He felt like time was rushing by…time and still he didn’t know who ordered the killing. Wandering around the flat with his mug, he found a locked closet…further intrigue. The closet in the bedroom held nothing except a spare pillow and blanket and empty hangers. Were her clothes in there?

One more meeting with Cramer…one more.

“Where the fuck did you go? I tried to call you all fuckin’ day?”

“I went for a ride.” David sat down with a cup of coffee across from Cramer. “I needed to be alone for awhile.”

“Well, Aziz has been doing his homework. I gotta hand it to him.”

“Are you or are you not officially investigating Charlie’s death?”

“Not exactly officially. I never got the go ahead.”

“Why is that, do you think? When an agent goes down, do you not investigate?”

“Usually, yes, we do. I followed the proper procedure and now I’m flying by my coattails.”

“Someone is holding up the investigation, is that correct? It would seem to me that at the very least you could have fingered the shooter. You leave it to a civilian to find the answers for you and that complicates things, does it not? It severely limits what you can do. If this Katz falls over dead from a heart attack now, suspicion will be cast.” David found he was angry.

“I have to be careful, Blaine. I can’t go storming about.”

“Why, because you will lose your job? You cannot help me and I cease to help you. I will find her killer by myself if I must. I do have a question for you. What was your relationship with Charlie?”

“She was a damn fine agent.”

“What else was she to you?”

Cramer took a breath and let it out. “She might have been something at one time but I let her slip by and by the time I got around to her again it was too late. I could see that. We were friends. I respected her.”

“I had to ask.”

“I know. Aziz asked the same thing.”

“Whose office initiates an investigation? Where does your permission come from?”

“Lord Sheffield’s office. He’s presently in Africa according to the BBC.”

“It is he personally who must approve?”

“Ah, no. Usually someone on his staff. He just signs where he’s told.”

“I understand. Well, then, I will work upwards from here.” David set his cup down and stood.

Part 5

Although he’d been warned about looking over his shoulder, he ignored it and went about his business unaware he was being followed. He’d left Cramer’s office and walked for awhile. He ended up in Hyde Park and found a bench. He pulled out his phone and called directory inquiries. One didn’t just phone up Lord Sheffield’s office evidently. No one would take his call. Frustrated, he called the number again.

“This is David Blaine calling again. I’m just going to step over to the BBC and ask someone there if they might not wonder why an agent of the British government is killed and the government  office she worked for does not give a bloody damn. Her name was Charlie Blaine. I am her husband.”

He waited for a few beats and someone came on the line.

“Mr. Blaine, I am very sorry for your loss. I would very much like to talk with you about it. Where are you, Mr. Blaine?”

“In London…I…who is this?” He turned slightly as something caught his eye. “You know where I am…don’t you…who are you?” He continued to watch the man on the cell phone standing by the next bench up from him. Whoever he was speaking with broke the connection. David looked around. The lane was largely deserted, only two elderly men walking together. How had he let himself get into this situation? He would not run. Instead he walked purposely toward the man on the bench. The man stood as if he was uncertain what to do. He folded his cell phone and started to slide it into his pocket. David wasn’t sure what he was doing, reaching for something or…

It had been awhile since he used his martial arts training but the moves came without thinking about them. The man was behind the bench, out cold. David went through his pockets quickly. Oh, fuck! He was Scotland Yard. Aziz was having him tailed.

Blaine pulled Aziz’s card from his wallet and called him. “Hyde Park, eighth bench from the circle. Your man is out cold. Sorry I did not know. I do not want to leave him here but I cannot stay.”

“Mr. Blaine…I think we need to talk again…please ten minutes and I will be there.”

“I don’t think I should be…there may be someone coming for me…”

“Unfortunately you have dispatched your help.” Aziz walked quickly down the steps and to a waiting car.

David tried to help the officer regain his senses.

He sat at the table in the interview room with a paper cup of tea in front of him. Aziz hurried inside with his own mug, a rather irregular-shaped thing with Dad written on the side in a child’s handwriting. David focused on it and thought of Lyssa. He had to stay alive for her.

Aziz gazed at him across the table. “I understand you thought Topov was the man you were talking with at Lord Sheffield’s office?”

“Yes. I thought I’d been put on hold and then he picked up and said how sorry he was about Charlie and asked me where I was. I answered London. I asked who he was and he did not tell me his name. Earlier I met with Cramer. He told me the investigation into Charlie’s death was being held up in Lord Sheffield’s office. I found a phone number and made the call. It was only when I called back and threatened to go to the media that someone came on the line besides the receptionist. So from this I think they do not want it public and they want to see me. I am sorry about your man, Topov. I did not know I was being followed by your people.”

“All along, Mr. Blaine, I have known you are not telling me the truth. I think you are telling me the truth now. I would like to help you find your wife’s killers but you must help me by being as honest as you can be. I understand the nature of her work was confidential. Mr. Cramer has made that perfectly clear and I do not want to compromise anyone in that field. However I am given to understand that you do not work for Mr. Cramer or any other intelligence gathering organization. In fact, you do not work at all except for the contract work you do for Ms. Langston. Is this true?”

He hesitated a moment. “Yes it is true.”

“I have you in Hong Kong five years ago…”

“Yes…”

“You entered this country with a false passport under the name of Blaine Davidson.”

“What has this to do with my wife’s assassination?”

“I am still of the opinion that you may have been the intended target.”

“All that has been taken care of. It has been corrected. My papers are legal.”

“Why was it necessary for you to assume the name of Blaine Davidson?”

“There was an incident in Hong Kong, a hoax of which I was a part. It involved many people, many countries. I exposed it as fraud but I had a hand in perpetuating the lie. I sought to kill myself but was prevented from that act. I was to be aboard my sailboat when it exploded. The boat exploded without me aboard. My death was reported to my family in China. I was taken out of the country with Charlie and new passports were provided.”

“I see they were obtained through our embassy in Saudi Arabia.” He produced the false passports from a folder he had on the table. “You traveled to Saudi Arabia. When I say 'you' I mean you and your wife, child and Ms. Langston. This was last year. Were you on a business trip of some kind?”

“No. It was personal.”

“Prince Ali Kazam.”

“Yes.”

“You went to school with the Prince?”

“Yes. What is it you wish to know, the nature of my relationship with him? Is that it? We were friends. He has come to my aid many times in my life, stood by me and believed in me. I will not let you drag his name into this inquiry.”

Aziz smiled slightly. Blaine opened slowly like a flower but once the petals began to unfold there was no stopping him. “You understand we shall be as discreet as is possible. This incident in Hong Kong that you say involved many people, how was Charlie involved?”
 

“She was an agent brought in to persuade me to give up something. We fell in love with each other.”

“And did you give up the ‘something’?”

“No, it was destroyed in the explosion.”

“Who else was involved that we know or don’t know?”

“Cramer and Brownie…David Brown. These I know. They were in Hong Kong at the time.”

“You were acquainted with David Brown prior to Hong Kong, is that correct?”

"Yes. I knew him. You have talked with him?”

“I have, yes.”

David’s eyes flashed and he looked away for a moment.

“You do not care for Mr. Brown?”

“He is a lying, jealous, little prick who likes to jack off in front of mirrors with my underpants. No, I do not care for him. He came to me after we settled in England, after Hong Kong and he threatened me with exposure, threatened Charlie, who was at that time on a job in America. I did the only thing I could do. I went to China and confessed to my mother and her brother, who was in prison because of the hoax. I was prepared to take his place and spend the rest of my days…but it was not to be.

“Charlie returned and between her and Cramer they prevented the exposure. I cleared my Uncle’s name and therefore my Mother. Diplomatically I was released and brought back here. That’s when the new passports were issued. Charlie and I were married soon after.”

“And now…you plant trees on National Trust Properties. Ms. Langston showed me some sketches you’d done, a nice hand with a charcoal pencil. Do you paint as well?”

“Yes, I do…sometimes.”

“Portraits, have you ever painted a self-portrait?”

“No, not a self portrait.”

Aziz frowned for a moment. Have you sat for a portrait, perhaps in school?”

David’s eyes bored into him. “Where have you seen this portrait? There was only one and it should have gone to my mother with my belongings from Hong Kong.”

Aziz’s own eyes blazed. “How do you think it might have arrived in London?”

“Theft…I took nothing from the house. After the explosion my houseman ran to tell my family that I was dead. The house was left unattended. Where have you see it?”

“You did not make a gift of this portrait?”

“It was painted by my friend Ali. I made no gifts.” David knew in an instant…Brownie.

“Excuse me for a moment, Mr. Blaine.” Aziz stepped out, giving orders to have Brian Brown picked up. When he returned to the room it was empty.

David left on foot, walking quickly toward an underground. He took the tube back to Cramer’s office.

“Where is he? Where is Brown?” He burst into Cramer’s office. Cramer and his secretary and two others were crowded around a computer screen watching a news broadcast. “Where!”  he shouted. Cramer came around the desk and took his arm, a look of genuine sorrow on his face, “I’m sorry, Blaine…a terrible thing.”

David shook his head slightly. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Why…Prince Ali Kazam, of course. You don’t know?”

He went still, not even breathing.“What...?”

“His car exploded this morning just outside of his residence in Dubai. I’m very sorry, Blaine, there were no survivors.”

David fell against the door his eyes wild. "No…!!” He ran from the offices down to the elevator. "Ali…” He banged on the elevator doors. Cramer came running down the hall.

“Blaine, wait…Blaine!” The doors opened and David fell into the elevator.

A hand reached over him and pushed the close door button. David pulled himself to the back of the elevator and curled up his head on his knees. He was aware the elevator was going up but his mind was whirling around a car exploding in Dubai. It would have been instant but that didn’t ease the pain thousands of miles away where it settled in Blaine’s heart. He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand and focused on the feet standing in front of him, white trainers with a red stripe. He felt sick inside.

Brian Brown reached over and stopped the elevator between floors. “Looks like you heard the news. The Prince of Arabia is dead.” He laughed and it echoed and bounced from surface to shiny surface inside the small box suspended between floors.

His heart rate and breathing had increased, his lips slightly opened. “It was you…you killed her…you killed Ali, too, didn’t you! He looked straight ahead, his eyes settling on Brian’s knees in his too tight jeans.

“You thought I was a dumb fucker, didn’t you. Well, it might appear so right now but not for long. Charlie was a mistake. It was you, baby, it was you. It was always you. I think you know that it was fate that brought us together again in Hong Kong of all places, ha, ha, ha. It had to come to this; it had to, baby. You could have prevented this, you know, a long time ago. You knew how bad I had it for you.” He began unbuckling his belt.

Blaine watched him until he was busy unbuttoning his jeans and he launched himself at Brownie, slamming him against the side of the elevator.  Brownie fought back. Again and again they slammed each other against the walls, the floor, the doors. The elevator began to move again. Shouts could be heard in the elevator shaft. Blaine didn’t know whether it was moving up or down and didn’t care, so intent was he in killing Brian Brown.

Brian’s big beefy hands closed around his neck briefly before he knocked him away. The lights in the elevator blinked on and off. The doors tried to open again between floors. Only a hand-span cracked and cold air flooded into the box. Brian thought he had him. Dead or alive he didn’t care. He began pulling at David’s jeans and fumbling with his own. David reared up and slammed him with an elbow sending him into the wall, another elbow, a bloody fist to his throat. A desperate fight raged on as the elevator began to move again down, down. It was falling too fast, its controls hanging from the box on the wall by the door. 

Aziz and his men, realizing the elevator was going to crash, ran down the stairs to the basement with Cramer right behind them. “Where does it stop?” Aziz asked.

“Utilities, down one from the parking garage. We’re not going to beat them down there, ya know.”

The elevator hit with a resounding crash and after a while silence. A lone worker was having his lunch. He’d dropped his pail and ever so quietly he moved over to the elevator. One of the doors was hanging open and he looked inside. “Oh…oh, bloody hell…!” He backed away and began to run toward the ramp.

None of the elevators on this side of the building were working. Aziz, frustrated now at the time it was taking, pushed other people on the stairs. There were other businesses in the office building and the further down they went the busier the stairway was becoming.

Shouts of “what’s going on, what’s happening, who are you,?" and various forms of verbal abuse followed them down the stairs. Cramer was nearly out of breath, was gasping by the time they reached the garage level. They sprinted across the garage to the door that led down to the utility area. It was a ramp and for that Aziz was grateful. His legs were about to fold under him. They met the utility manager running up the ramp.

“Oi, it’s bad, it is! Oi, somebody call the medics…somebody call…!” The men rushed past him.

Aziz’s men wrenched open the elevator doors and he winced at what he saw. So much blood they were hardly recognizable. He pulled on a rubber glove and felt for pulses. This one’s dead…he lives but barely…no, no, don’t move them…no,” he admonished Cramer.

“He’s alive then…?” Cramer covered his mouth.

Aziz peeled off the gloves and stepped back. “Yes, it appears he is the fortunate one.”

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