"Zeke, when you eventually decide to answer your damn phone, ring me back. We have a problem!"
Scott threw down the handset, placed his arm around the back of the passenger chair and reversed back, controlling the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. He waited for the gate to rise; a frustratingly slow process which had him drumming his fingers on the window's edge. When finally open, he moved the car back onto the road, slammed it into first gear and drove off at speed.
Damn that girl! Why won't she ever do as she is told?
Scott gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, sitting forward in his seat wondering how his evening had gone from mediocre to crap in such a short space of time. There he'd been, drinking an old malt out of an expensive, cut crystal, a drink forced on him by Diana, when the call came. He politely took a glance down at his phone, whilst Diana continued to discuss her son and his recent odd behaviour. Briggs' name flashed away on the screen. Scott couldn't remember the last time Briggs had called him so late and that fact set his pulse racing and an unfamiliar nervous feeling flitted about his stomach.
He had quickly apologised for the interruption and gone outside to take the call. Taking a deep breath, he pressed answer.
"Good evening Sir."
"Scott, where's the girl?"
"Err...in bed, Sir." He paused before adding, "Why is there a problem?"
"You're damn right there's a problem," Briggs had hissed.
Scott was surprised at the anger in Briggs voice. It wasn't that Scott hadn't heard him angry before. Blimey, he'd been at the end of a tongue lashing from Briggs, more times than he cared to remember, but he'd never heard Briggs anger sound so unchecked and uncontrolled.
"Sir, what is the problem? What can I do?"
"I have only just been passed a list. Damn incompetent fools; how dare they keep something like this from me?" Briggs was raging.
"Sir, what list?"
"A list of names, dammit! Names taken from the girls adopted mother."
"What of these names, Sir?"
"Even the bloody adopted mother was in on it!"
Scott knowing more than Briggs was aware of, pressed him further.
"In on what, Sir?"
"Don't tell me you've turned into an imbecile too?" Briggs spat. "In on whatever Eastman had planned. That Green woman was in on Eastman's plan. Interrogation has found out that she had a list of names, which when checked appear to have links to Eastman. They think she gave the list to Hannah. I want them arrested, do you here? I want each one of them interrogated and I want to know what they know. "
"Ok, Sir. What do you want me to do about Hannah?"
The phone went quiet for a moment and Scott held his breath fearing the worse.
"Nothing, Scott, well not yet at least, after all she really is just a child and what could she possibly know or do, right?"
Scott squeezed his eyes tight and pinched at the brow of his nose.
You have no idea!
"I've just emailed them across to you now. I want you to lead on this. Make sure you
Briggs ended the call abruptly. Scott stood looking at the four names for a few moments. One of the names was strangely familiar, but he couldn't remember why.
He gave his apologies to Diana, citing a small work issue and that she wasn't to worry, that her house was under surveillance and they would be safe.
"I'll just check on Hannah before I go."
Diana thanked him for his diligence and he set off up the stairs to Hannah's room. At her door he tapped lightly. Hearing no movement, he tapped a little louder.
"Hannah," he said in a hushed tone.
"She's not there," said a voice behind him.
Scott turned to see Edward standing in the entrance to her room.
"What do you mean she's not there?"
"Exactly that! She left ages ago. Snuck out when she thought no one was watching. But I was," he said, smiling.
Scott stormed over to Edward, who backed nervously back into his room. He towered over the boy, who now looked more terrified than smug.
"Listen here, you little shit. I don't know what you're problem is with her, but she could be in grave danger. Why didn't you say anything? Did you see where she went?"
"No and I don't care," he said quietly, then with slightly more confidence, "she can rot in hell for all I care."
Scott grabbed the lapels of Edward's pyjama top and almost lifted him off the ground.
"I promise you, stupid boy, that if anything happens to her, you'll be the one rotting in hell. Now, I am going to go find her and bring her back. If you so much as breathe a word of this to your mother I'll make good on my promise. Do you understand?"
Edward nodded his assent. Scott patted the top of his head; Edward flinched.
"Excellent. Now be a good boy and go to bed."
Scott left the room and quietly returned down the stairs.
"Is everything ok?" Diana was waiting for him at the bottom.
"Err... yes. She isn't in the best of moods, so I'd give her some space if I were you."
"Yes, of course. Goodnight Agent Scott and thank you."
Scott headed to the door, shaking his head as he went wondering how on earth he'd got himself into this situation and where the hell she had gone.
Once in his car, Scott made several quick calls to back to Central Command asking for them to confirm the addresses of three of the four names on Briggs list. The first name was that of an SPR Filing Clerk who had passed away five years earlier. He would need to complete a full investigation into the man and his surviving family, but that could wait till tomorrow. The second name was Anne Holland, an ex-midwife and colleague of Eastman's. For some strange reason, Scott knew Hannah would have tried there first. If the team back at head office couldn't find the third and fourth names on the list, he doubted very much that Hannah would be able to. So it had to be Anne Holland, at least he hoped it was.
Scott dialled back to Command and ordered a quick response team to Pretta Heights.
"Tell them not to enter the property until I'm on the ground. We can have no screw-ups tonight!"
Scott then took out a second, non-issue phone from his glove compartment and switched it on. He'd only purchased it for cash the day before and at the time hadn't really known why. Getting the number for the woman from his ComDat, he dialled her house. The phone rang for some time and then he heard it connect.
"Anne Holland. I'm a friend of Hannah Green and she's in great danger. Is she there with you now?"
The elderly-sounding woman confirmed that she was and her response indicated that Hannah wasn't alone. Scott knew instantly it had to be that idiot-boy Tucker and berated himself for not realising it earlier.
"Ok, Anne, they know about you and Eastman. A team is on its way to take you into custody. Hannah cannot be found in your home."
Anne asked him how long she had.
"You have less than ten minutes...do not let Hannah stay, she will try to as she is the most awkward bloody woman I've ever met...Anne, you will be interrogated, there is nothing I can do to stop that I'm afraid."
Scott didn't know the woman, he had no reason in the world to care about her predicament and yet uncharacteristically he found he did. But his immediate concern was for Hannah, even if he still didn't really understand why. He promised himself that once Hannah was secure, he would try to help Anne in any way he could.
As Scott drove at speed towards the house, he kept looking down at the illuminated map on the screen of the ComDat. A small green light blinked repeatedly, but remained in the same place.
"Come on move, damn you," he muttered to himself. The task of placing a tracking device beneath Tucker's car a few weeks earlier had been purely routine, fitting similar devices to all of the vehicles owned by the returned Flawed. Not all of them had cars or even knew how to drive, but for those that did, Scott was able to locate their cars to within a hundred metres. Fortunately the tracking data went straight to his ComDat and wasn't connected to the main system, yet!
Scott's other phone rang. He pushed a button on the centre of the steering wheel and to answer.
"We are three minutes out." Scott recognised the voice of Stefan Taylor and inwardly cursed. Taylor was very good at his job, having a keen nose for trouble and a good ear for bullshit. Scott knew he was going to have to put on a good show so as not to arouse any suspicion. He looked down at the blinking light and still it hadn't moved.
"Good, I'm not far behind you. Don't make a move till I get there. This has got to be text book."
"Understood, Sir." Taylor ended the call.
For the remainder of the short journey Scott's eyes went from looking at the road ahead, to the clock, to the ComDat and back again. The steering wheel was slippery from his sweating palms and yet he felt chilled. As he checked again for his service weapon in the holster, he saw the green dot move off.
Finally!
A couple of minutes later, Scott pulled onto the road and saw the blue lights of two patrol cars lighting up the street.
"Oh crap!"
He jumped out and walked over to Taylor who was talking with two officers. Scott looked around and saw the faces of the neighbours peeking out from behind their curtains.
"Evening, Sir."
"Taylor." Scott nodded to him and then to the officers, "Why are you here?"
"A call came in about a gunshot..."
A gunshot! Anne, Tucker...Hannah?
The officer continued. "We were only a couple of blocks down, so got here quickly just before these guys showed up," the officer said pointing to Taylor.
"Have you been inside yet?" Scott asked.
"No." Taylor replied, "but I've sent two men round the back of the property and they reported that the house seems secure enough and no movement can be heard inside. Wade is hiding out over there," he said, pointing to an area in shadow, next to the garage door.
"Ok, here's what we'll do. Officers, I want you to go door to door and see what the neighbours saw and heard. Taylor, you and I will take the front and do a forced entry, but first, in light of the gunshot, let's take it real slow and just knock on the door, all polite and see what happens. Get your vest on first though."
Taylor looked at Scott and smirked. "Err... ok, let's do this all polite then. First time for everything I suppose."
Taylor radioed the two agents to await entry as he and Scott walked up the front driveway.
"So what's the old woman done then?"
"I can't divulge that, but needless to say this operation has been requested by Briggs personally. Need I say anymore?"
Taylor's eyes widened. "Nope, I suppose not."
Scott checked his watch and then knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again, yet still no answer.
"Ready?" Scott asked Taylor.
"All units get ready." Scott moved to one side, Taylor took a step back and then threw himself at the door, leading with his right shoulder. The door burst open to the sound of splintering wood and Taylor took a small stumble. Scott followed him into the dark hallway of the property. The sound of the back door being forced open could be heard and then Taylor's men searched through the property with the use of night vision goggles. Scott stood back and waited.
"Agent Scott, you need to get in here."
Scott followed the sound of the voice. He approached a doorway, just as a light was turned on inside the room. Blinking away the glare, he walked into the room. An agent who he didn't recognise stood in front of an armchair, obscuring his view.
"What is it?"
The agent moved to the side, revealing the small frame of Anne Holland, or what used to be Anne Holland. Her head lay slumped across the back of the chair, the contents of her brain decorating the wall behind.
Scott cursed quietly to himself. In his brief, but eventful career, he'd seen far more ghastly sights than this, but for the very first time he felt a desperate need to vomit, to purge himself of the acidic bile rising up from his gut. He rushed out of the room and evacuated the contents of his stomach into the kitchen sink, over three empty tea cups, saucers and a teapot the elderly woman had left in the bowl to soak. He stood for a moment looking down at the remnants of the meal and fine whisky he'd consumed back at the Page house earlier. He grabbed a glass of the drainer and filled it under the tap. Taking a large mouthful, he swished it around his mouth, spitting it out, trying to remove the burning, acrid taste- the taste of guilt.
Scott returned to the living room and heard sniggers from inside the room, which stopped immediately when he walked in. He surveyed the room, regaining his composure.
"So?" He asked.
"Suicide." Taylor replied."
"How long?" Scott asked.
"Within the last twenty minutes. Looks like she knew we were coming."
"Obviously." Scott mentally noted the steps needed to be followed and set the team to work. "Ok, Taylor, do a trace on her phone and see if she had any calls in the last twenty four hours. Also call the ME. You," he said to the other two agents, "guard the entrances. I don't want anyone else in here contaminating the scene. I'll scan for prints just in case."
The others made their way out of the room, leaving Scott alone with the cooling corpse of Anne Holland. From out of his pocket he took a small grey device and switched it on. A light in the small box shined down onto the table top revealing an array of finger prints. He rubbed them away with his sleeve and then pressed the Capture button on the back of the small scanning device, taking a picture of the now unblemished surface. Scott quickly repeated the process around the room on any surface he thought Hannah or Tucker might have touched. In the kitchen he sluiced away the evidence of his earlier nauseous release and wiped the edges of the crockery in the bowl with a damp cloth. Scott went back into the room and took some print scans off the wooden arms of the chair, where the elderly woman's body sat. The familiar smell of death was now heavy in the room and he couldn't help but stare down at her spent body.
"I did this," he whispered to himself and knelt down, lowering his head. The woman's dressing gown lay open just above the knee, exposing her bare calves. Scott reached over and gently pulled at the material in a futile attempt to try and allow the woman a modicum of decency. Just as he was about to stand up and leave the room, he noticed a small piece of paper lying on the floor, just to the right of her body. He picked it up and read the few words which had clearly been hastily written.
Better is the soul that is beautifully flawed, than one which is perfectly ugly.
Scott read the words once more and folded up the piece of paper, placing it in his trouser pocket. He took once last look at Anne Holland, capturing her final image in his mind and left the house.
"Any prints?" Taylor asked, as Scott walked down the path
"Most of them are from one source, most likely hers and a few old partials, but nothing of any worth. I'll send them to the lab straight away. Any word from the neighbours?"
Taylor laughed at the question. "You're kidding right? They didn't see anything, they didn't hear anything and no one knows anything. Just your average, 'perfect' neighbourhood."
Scott rolled his eyes, this wasn't the first time he had such a reaction. "So who made the call to the police then?"
"She did!"
"Who did?"
"Anne Holland, that's who, we have a voice recording if you want to hear it?"
"Good god! You know what? I think I'll pass tonight. I've gotta go ring Briggs and tell him the good news."
"Rather you than me."
"You ok to finish off here?"
"No problem."
"Thanks, Stef."
Scott got into his car and tried to ring Briggs, but the phone went straight to answerphone. Nothing seemed to keep that guy awake. Scott decided not to leave a message and would try calling him later on. He drove for several blocks and then pulled over in a small car park next to the river. Scott opened his window and launched his second phone into the murky water and it sank immediately. He then checked the ComDat for the position of Tucker's car. The image of the map refreshed itself and the green flashing light was stationary again.
"What the hell are they doing in that neighbourhood?" He shouted at the small screen. He picked up his phone and dialled. It answered on the second tone.
"Zeke, where in the hell are you?"
"Ah... Agent Scott, so nice of you to call."
"General Briggs?" Scott asked, confused. He quickly looked down at his phone to see if he had dialled the wrong number. He hadn't.
"Sir, is Zeke there? I need to speak to him urgently about a case."
"No, Scott, he isn't able to get to the phone right now or for the foreseeable future."