The fierce gush of heat that hit Thame when he first got off the plane in Miami lingers around his every move, heavy on his shoulders and cloaking his face. Recharged by passing out on the flight, he drives down through the Keys to Key Biscayne. Parking up at the Ritz Carlton in the middle of the afternoon, he finds that the coastal wind takes a slight edge off the humidity. After checking in for a week and gulping hard at the cost, he takes a long shower and gets changed into his only summer-appropriate gear. He has not only three days of dirt and sweat to wash off, but also the bitter memories of his night with Mbozi and argument with Isabella.
Thame walks on the white sand beaches, around the rich green vegetation that intertwines with the human settlement and finds himself wandering in the State Park towards their famous lighthouse. Standing erect in front of the rich blue sky, he sits and calms himself. Now to make a plan, Ormr. I can sense that we're in the right place. Start with the boat.
Thame gets out the picture of Seymour with his father on the boat. It's quite obviously a younger version of The Monk and asking around with this old photo will alert people unnecessarily. Then in the corner of the picture, Thame starts to make out a name on the emergency life saving ring. He'd been so obsessed with the people and the words on the back that he didn't really look at it all. It's only half a name but enough to start with. Marie. Marie something. I wonder what his dad's wife name was.
He gets up, sunglasses on and heads back to the hotel. That night he would head to the yacht club and see if anyone moored there had a similar name.
At dinner, Thame sits alone with a map of Key Biscayne and the internet. The yacht was a lead but if he was here, common sense could narrow it down. He had hoped that upon landing he'd be drawn to his kin but so far there was nothing and the amulet was just a lifeless rock. Thame looks over the map. Despite hiding and running away, Seymour's arrogance would demand a high status place that still showed power and wealth. It would need security and views. Thame looks over the map and identifies a cluster of roads near the west coast away from the tourist crowds and the beaches. He remembers what he was like when they first met. Not just a view, but the sea view. Thame identifies two roads, South Machta and Harbor Drive. That would be the place. One of those. He still wanted to try the boat for confirmation but needed darkness to slip into the club without too much fuss.
After a dinner and a couple of beers whilst staring aimlessly at Sports Center's stories that he couldn't make himself care about, Thame set off for the yacht club. He knew it would have security and perhaps people hanging around the yachts themselves, so he really had to be stealthy. The club itself was veering towards the end of a dinner service, a few stragglers at the bar. Its car park was full of mainly expensive convertibles and gas guzzlers, with a few less conspicuous staff cars on the edges. He loops around the building, away from prying eyes, and jumps over a fence.
Staying low to the ground, Thame snakes around the building, past the swimming pool and onto the decking that leads out to the yachts. For a venue used by such affluent people, he thought the whole thing disappointingly plain and a touch tacky. Slowing to a normal walk, giving the impression he belonged there, Thame notes the names of the moored yachts. He walks past all of them but no sign of The Monk's vessel. At the end of the jetty he stops. Stupid idiot. He lives here, with likely a sea view. He'll have his own mooring. The realisation now seemed so obvious he wanted to hide from himself in embarrassment. He would have to do some harder work and show his hand to some locals.
The next day, Thame spends the morning on the beach outside his hotel tanning, enjoying the ocean and trying to come up with a cover story. He has only four more days and if this didn't work, he'd have to do something far more reckless or ask The Order for help, very much the last resort. He devises a plan to use the picture as a family photo and leave it in his wallet. He'll allow people to see it and then use that to start a conversation to see if people knew Seymour. The place wasn't that big.
The afternoon and evening were a washout. Three days to go. Thame knew he had to get more into the neighbourhood bars rather than the tourist areas, perhaps target estate agents who may have local history. He moves towards his key streets and tucks up in a bar for lunch. Ordering some food and a beer, he allows his wallet to flop and stay open.
People came and went all afternoon and soon Thame was a bit wobbly himself. He daren't get up in case he'd need help getting home. Eventually the bar begins to fill up and he's joined by a man in a suit, already three sheets to the wind.
"Hey, what's up." The man's tie had already abandoned him.
"Hey." Thame replied with a nod.
The bartender arrived with a Scotch immediately. "Hey Dan. Eight bucks."
"I got this." Thame offered.
"Thanks man. A Brit, right."
"Right." They cheers each other, Dan making the gesture out to be the most amazingly British thing ever.
"On vacation?"
"Sort of."
"What's sort of? Great place here."
"Work and also visiting family. My Granddad used to come here and I'm looking into him. Nothing sordid of course! Just my mum moved away to Britain young and I never knew them or my uncle. So, kind of a big family trip."
"Wow. Yeah. I did the family thing a few years ago. I'm Irish." Of course you are.
"Oh, cool." Thame politely replies, knowing he was Irish four hundred years ago.
"Your mum here?"
"She is but she's more of a sun worshipper."
"Guess she's worried about seeing her brother again."
"Yeah, bless her. Half-brother. So we don't know them at all really."
"What's their names? I've worked here in realty for twenty years. I've likely sold them something."
"Oh, it's John." As Thame is about to say his surname, Dan looks at his wallet.
"Say, Brit. Is that your uncle?"
"It is. With my Granddad in the eighties. You know him?"
"I don't know him, sadly. But the Key knows of him. Private man, incredibly wealthy. Moved back her about five years ago and bought the Mashta House." Bingo.
"Sorry, the Mashta House?"
"Man, I'd have loved to have sold that. I'd be set for life. It was all over the news! Fifty million dollar house, a landmark. Knocked it down and rebuilt it. Probably the best view and location in all of the Key."
"Christ. My mum will be shocked. Fifty million?" Thame feigns surprise, insisting his background is far removed from that of a millionaire. Nature's natural tongue loosener had quite the hold on Dan after that. He got told of the whole story of 775 South Mashta Drive on the south west point of the Key. Eventually Thame wrestled himself away and headed unsteadily back to the hotel. The long walk helped focus his mind. He looked at the address on his phone map and saw it was at the end of a road. With it being private, he couldn't go in on foot without someone seeing. Back in the hotel, he books a two-hour boat ride around the Key which would allow him to view the house without being seen. Two days left and a quarter of it on the water. He felt a Hail Mary coming along.
It had rained in the early hours leaving the air crisp and fresh. Thame gets up early and heads to Nixon Beach to pick up the boat tour. It was a special morning cruise around the Key before coming back for a change of clientele, a booze cruise and party boat in the afternoon and evening. Thame had earlier googled the sandbar parties, pretty disappointed that he had a mission and needed to come back. Along with two more elderly couples, he sits back as the boat takes them from the beach and out around the Key. The first stop is the sandbar and then the jackpot, the rich houses of the coast. Like a Hollywood House tour, this would give him protection while scoping it out. Eventually they reach where the old Mashta House used to sit. The driver stops, allowing the couples to listen into the history of the house. Thame borrows some binoculars from Jan and Chuck from Albany, and zooms right in.
The house is a waterfront mansion with Maria Helena moored to its own private jetty. A red tiled roof finishes off a massive recreation on the site of the first house. It's now big enough for an army, not just a family of four. Surrounded by green, trees and the water, it must be impregnable to approach unless by water. Of course this was The Monk's house. It has its own private cove. And it looks like the whole family are in as all of the cars are parked outside.
"...and a deep water harbor. Completely man-made cove. The house is approximately twelve thousand feet..." The tour guide's voiced drops in and out of his consciousness. There's a big family Range Rover with tinted windows, a big Mercedes which would be Seymour's. Behind these, a pale blue VW Beetle. That must be it. If you were a young girl living in Europe, suddenly ripped away from it, you'd try and bring some of it home. There couldn't be that many VW Beetles and especially in pale blue. As the boat revved up to continue to the State Park and Lighthouse, he zoomed in on the number plate - VTA 6KD In God We Trust. Useful, if somehow there's another Beetle on South Mashta Drive.
As Thame watches, Seymour and his wife, accompanied by Abigail and little blonde Thea, come out of the house and set up some garden tables and seats. Abigail looks more mature, her features filled in, but still more like an older sister than a mother to Thea. Seymour, The Monk, seems different to how Thame remembers him. Even from Thame's distant observation, it's obvious that he dotes on Thea like the proudest grandfather in the world. All the power and drive forgotten in this adoring older man. He barely recognises anyone else there as he sits with his grandchild. Thea, blonde and happy, plays like there's nothing else to worry about in the world. Thame can't help but enjoy the moment, whilst noting that there was a lot of staff in and about the place, not always obvious but clearly present. The boat engine revs up and they pull away.
Sitting back, Thame waits for the tour to slowly reach its conclusion. Even though he was on the water, the sun heating up and the sky clear blue, he couldn't relax. He could swim up and surprise them but security would see him coming. He could stakeout in the deep vegetation off the coastal line. Again, he didn't have time for that and he worried about how he would get to the house from the stakeout point. There was only one option: Abigail or The Monk would have to leave their villa at some point in the next 36 hours. He'd just have to wait and pounce.
By the time the boat had come back around the State Park and by the sandbar, which was filling up early, Thame had to go hire a car for the day and stakeout the only route in and out of the house. Whether he caught her coming in or out for the day, the only thing he could do was wait. He hired a standard non-descript dark blue Lexus and parked up around 2pm at the corner, before the Island crossing on the side of The Monk and his rich neighbours. He stayed for six hours, creating a mess of drinks bottles and rubbish in the car before giving up for the night. He knew he was in the right position, he just couldn't get Abigail out of the house.
Thame returned just before sunrise and picked up the same position. He had one full day before an early morning flight back to London. If they don't leave the house today, he might have to charge like trench warfare. Luckily, he got the movement he needed. Just after breakfast, Seymour leaves, not in the Mercedes or Range Rover but a brand new red convertible Corvette. Thame slides down his seat so that he's barely visible as The Monk drives past.
Two hours later, a light blue mirage picks up in his wing mirror. The unmistakable Beetle is heading his way. Thame throws his drink to one side, starts his engine and gets ready to tail her. She slowly heads north on the 913 to the mainland. Thame hadn't really driven in America before, nor an automatic, and worries about all the right turns on reds, pissing himself off when he keeps pressing the brake like it's the clutch. As she approaches the mainland, she indicates to pull onto the 1. Thame pulls up right behind her and sits high on his chair so only half his face is visible behind the sun visor. She barely gives him a moment's notice as she pulls off again on the A1A and into South Beach. As she more slowly navigates South Beach's more residential roads, Thame can see that Thea is in the back. He checks his amulet and still nothing. Eventually she parks up near 4th Street in South Beach parking. He pull in at the opposite end of the same floor and waits for her to unpack what seems to be a whole roomful of stuff. Thea stands and sings to herself as they head out for a day at the beach. She's a cute little girl with blond hair in a plait and a colourful dress over her swimsuit, pink star-shaped glasses and jelly sandals. Abigail holds her hand as they head out of the parking lot. Thame slowly follows, ensuring they don't leave his sight. The bond between mother and daughter is clear, Thea grabbing hold of Abigail tightly as they head onto South Beach.
"That's the woman - girl then - who I used when I was in Rome." Ormr says.
"I know. You tricked me, took me over."
"I'm sorry. We must survive though. Whatever happens."
"As sweet as they both are, I'm not sure it's what we thought."
"Me neither. I haven't felt any change as we've got closer, and the amulet..."
"Lifeless." Thame concludes. Drinking a beer in a beachfront bar, Thame decides to watch them for a couple of hours as they make sandcastles and play games. They paddle in the water and Abi reads some textbooks. Once he knew they'd be wanting some food and water, he makes his move. With three Slushies in tow, Thame sits down next to them both. Abi jumps up, ready to combat the intruder. When she sees Thame looking back at her, her breath escapes and her legs feel as heavy as three buses.
"Hi. Sorry about the entrance."
Thea looks up, a little startled, reacting to her mum's rigidness.
"Oh my God." Abi fails to find more words. A two-second silence feels like a week.
"I guess, surprise?" Thame says, forcing a smile to try to release the tension. "You must be Thea." Thame offers his hand to the child only to get a suspicious look back.
"It's, it's okay, Thea." Abi stutters but starts to get feeling back through her body. Thame looks stronger than before and has picked up some colour from the Florida sun. "Thea, this is Thame, your.."
"Your friend." Thame finishes, offering his hand to shake again. This time, Thea shakes it.
"Is that for me?" She asks quietly, still not overly confident with her new friend.
"Yes. Blueberry, lemon or blackcurrant?"
"Blackcurrant!"
"What do you say?" Abi interjects.
"Blackcurrant pleeeease."
"It's yours." Thame offers her one and looks deep into her eyes. The amulet is still lifeless. She's not ours, Ormr says. He looks at Abi and offers her a Slushie too. She takes the lemon.
"I can't believe you're here. How did you find us?"
"Don't worry. No one knows I've come here because of you or her."
"Does my dad know?"
"Not yet. She's amazing. So cute."
"Thanks." Abi sighs, still unsure what to make of the situation.
"First, I want to say sorry for Italy all those years back. You know what I am and it wasn't right."
"Erm, that's ok. It was hot. I, I -" She pauses. "Wanted it to happen. And, well, look what came of it." They both look at Thea who is now in her own world of Slushie and sandcastles. "Why are you here? Are you staying?"
"I came to see if what everyone assumes is true. I came here to see her and you, and, if it's true, I would eventually return and stay. No more hiding. Be a father to her."
Abigail's heart beats like a giant African ceremonial drum.
"But." Thame lets it linger as Abi's drum lining explodes. "I'm sorry. She isn't mine."
With her truth exposed, all the tension that had built drips away. She starts crying. Thame goes over and holds her close and tightly.
He pulls her away from his chest, wipes her tears away and kisses her forehead. "Does anyone know?"
"No. Well, yes. I told Jacob, the real father, that it might be his. He went to the same international high school as I did. We still message everyday, sometimes Facetime. We're in love."
Thame smiles, still holding her firm. "That's brilliant, Abi. I know it's complicated and I'm genuinely sorry for what Ormr did. No, I'm sorry for all of this. But I've seen your dad with Thea and I know he won't care now. You have your lives to lead."
"He can't go back now. He'll lose face, his position."
"I have the only evidence here." Thame gets the picture out and gives it to her. "You can live free once the news is out there and, as of a few days time, The Order will become a proper business with new leaders. I promise you can live free and safe."
"He's going to kill me."
"He'll be angry, but you'll be surprised what his Lord demands." Thame lets Ormr back into his eyes, reminding Abigail of the will that had taken her back in Italy.
"How are we going to do it?"
"Call him and say you'll cook dinner tonight. Let me in the house around eight-thirty and leave it to me." They share numbers, Abi adding his to her phone under a pseudonym.
"Your house's security. Is it always so tight?"
"Yes. But I'll tell them a friend is coming around for dinner. You'll be fine." The plan was set.
"Thea is just adorable and so sweet. You should be proud."
"Fancy hanging out for the afternoon? You don't get many uncles for Thea who could protect her in the way you could."
"It would be my pleasure. Now, Jacob. Where is he and how do we get him over here?"