CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, I was in hurry. Just like the past few nights, sleep escaped me and I had only started dozing off minutes between the alarm went off. I felt like I was both moving and thinking in slow-motion. Dave woke up as well by the sound of the alarm but I told him to stay in bed, feeling too cranky to have company during breakfast, even his.
I had to meet my thesis advisor in thirty minutes and then head to the office. I put on a fresh dress, not bothering with showering even though last night had been sweaty. When I re-entered the bedroom to pick up my bag, Dave was sitting in bed, absentmindedly rubbing his injured leg while on his phone. Most likely, he was texting Vicky, I thought. And when he raised his head to look at me, his blue eyes more beautiful than ever, it felt as if I was okay again, at least for a few seconds. But then, it passed and my inner-self was crumbling to pieces again.
"Have a good day, Dave," I said with a sort of enthusiasm I didn't feel before leaning down to kiss him on the cheek but he moved his face on purpose, and our lips touched instead. At least, this still felt awesome, I thought, trying to reassure myself that everything would be okay.
I pulled back quickly, running around the room, looking for my bag. "Alright, so you have a nurse coming over at 10 to check your wound and change the bandage," I droned as I bent down to search under the bed. Nothing. "And if something's wrong you call me. Okay?" I asked, insisting on the last word when I finally found my handbag behind the door and sighed with relief. "Okay?" I repeated myself, pointedly looking at him but Dave just seemed amused.
"Okay, love," he chuckled, before stretching out. "Have a good day!"
Professor Hartley was more understanding than I'd expected. First, he didn't even point out I was fifteen minutes late. Second, he told me he was pleased with my pace which we both knew was a lie. I hadn't touched a single law book since St Matthew's and he knew that. But for whatever reason, everyone seemed to think you deserved to rest after living through something like that, even if you weren't injured. Everyone, except my brain it seems.
All night I had spent thinking about someone having tampered with his gun. Obviously, it wasn't the Police when they searched his house, they would just have confiscated it. Which only really left one option: Someone had broken into his place. I had desperately wanted to discuss it with him but he had fallen asleep soon after sex, and considering what an emotional rollercoaster his day had been, I couldn't wake him up. Even if that meant I couldn't fall asleep myself.
On our way to the Home Office HQ, I asked to stop at a pharmacy. I stood in line, rummaging through the mess inside my handbag until I found the folded piece of paper I'd been looking for and handed it to the pharmacist. She raised her eyes at the prescription, but remained silent before leaving to go look for it in the back. I was fidgeting, rhythmically tapping the tips of my fingers on the wooden counter and though I knew I was annoying everyone, I couldn't physically stop myself. A few minutes later, she appeared again, holding a box each of Trazolan and Sonata. I quickly paid for my purchases and hurried back into the car.
Nervously, I popped out one pill of each and threw them in my mouth, not even bothering with water. I was well aware I shouldn't take them both at the same, the doctor had repeated it a dozen times, but desperate times called for desperate measures and if I were to fall asleep on my job, then who fucking cared.
But I wasn't lucky enough for that happen. Instead, I spent my workday ineffectively going over legal documents and aimlessly wandering the halls, but sleep never came. I took a few more pills but by the time 5 o'clock came around, I was still conscious and yet feeling dead inside.
I wasn't sure the guards were telling in on me to my parents, giving them all the details about my whereabouts, but I didn't really care at this point. I asked the guards to drive me to a small supermarket, or rather a limited grocery store I knew all too well. Inside, I grabbed a bottle of orange juice and some biscuits to make it look less suspicious and walked over to the cashier.
I placed the items on the counter and grabbed my purse. "I'll also take some flour, enough for 10 muffins, please" I added and the young cashier looked me in the eyes for a couple of seconds before opening a small drawer on his side and taking out some miniscule plastic bags. I quickly paid in cash and walked over to the car.
"Do you have everything, miss?" The man bald inquired, giving me a quick look through the mirror before turning on the engine.
"Yes, thank you. I was just running out of breakfast necessities," I replied, absentmindedly as I grabbed my phone, having heard a message notification.
"I'm having a pint with a colleague tonight. Don't know what time I'll be home. Love you." David had written. Somehow, you could really notice that he wasn't a millennial by the way he wrote his text messages and it made me chuckle. I was glad though that he had taken the time to text me and let me know everything was okay.
"Have fun!" I sent back joyously though I felt nervous and worried about his safety. The bomber was still at large. Yesterday only, there had been a false alert on the Vauxhall Bridge and you only needed to walk in the streets of London for a few minutes to notice the tension. I tried calming myself, if he was going out with a friend, it meant he was feeling better, right?
Being alone tonight would actually be good for me. I'd have time to work on my thesis and even do laundry, something in which I was running behind.
Arriving at the flat, I started boiling some water to make mac n' cheese and then opened one of the small plastic sachets I'd just bought on the marble counter before arranging the powder in a straight thin line and snorting it with a short straw I found in one of the drawers.
At first, it burnt like hell, just like it always did. And then, it felt as if you had gotten brain freeze by eating ice cream too fast. When I was done cooking, the positive effects had kicked in and I finally felt poised, just like I always used to be.
I had dinner in silence as I checked my twitter feed with the TV playing softly in the background. However, by the time I was done eating, my head was a whirlwind of ideas and I had to put them into paper before I forgot them.
Hippocrates of Kos, an ancient Greek philosopher, was now best known in the area of medicine. But in the Hippocratic Corpus there's a treatise called "Air, waters, places" in which the author stated that our climate defined our physical and mental characteristics. And according to him, Europeans were brave and strong, but inconsistent just like the weather. And although, I didn't believe a single word of that, I just didn't care because it made the perfect introduction to explain how the law of war originated in Europe.
By the time Dave arrived, I had completed the introduction.
"Good evening!" I hollered as Dave closed the front door behind himself. I stretched out comfortably before setting down my laptop for the first time that evening. "I'm in the living room."
"Hello, love," Dave smiled as he approached me, still taking off his jacket. He placed a quick kiss on my cheek before lazily sitting down on the couch the next to me and I immediately took the opportunity to rest my calves on his lap. "I didn't expect you'd still be up."
"I had to work on my thesis," I replied while readjusting the cushions behind my back. My parents somehow had a talent to buy expensive, beautiful and extremely uncomfortable cushions.
"You're okay?" He asked, staring down at me, appearing somewhat puzzled as he started giving me a foot rub. "You're talking too fast and I can hear your heart beating from where I am." He was now eyeing me closely and I was glad for the dim light and my dark irises for hiding my dilated pupils.
"Yeah, I just had a red bull." I replied, misleading him, brushing off his concern. Considering all that he was going through, I didn't feel like adding another layer. "So, how was your day?" I wondered carelessly, before remembering something. "You did see nurse before going out, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dave replied, mocking me and I struck my tongue at him. "They called me from the office. They wanted help interviewing Nadia so I went over to the station." He was speaking lightly, as if this was just chit-chat but he did seem worried.
For a moment, I couldn't remember who Nadia was but then I figured it must be the woman Dave had stopped from blowing up the train on 01/10. "Aren't you supposed to be on a leave, though?"
"I cannot just lie back and do nothing," David sighed before letting out a small groan as he leaned his head back, exposing his throat. "She didn't identify Mahmood as the bomb-maker."
I took a few seconds to process his words. On the one hand, I knew this was bad news because the Police most likely had no other leads. But on the other hand, I had chatted to Mahmood a couple of times, and I never really believed he could have been part of something like that. "That's good. It means the Home Office wasn't infiltrated."
Dave's Adam's apple bobbled before he spoke. "I think she was lying. Even in custody under police protection, she's still afraid of her husband," Dave said with honesty, before biting lip and unintentionally squeezing my foot.
"I don't think her being a woman immediately makes her the victim, David. Not every woman needs to be protected," I blurted out softly, not thinking my words through before saying them out loud. "Maybe she's not collaborating because she does believe in the cause," I added, clarifying my previous thoughts.
David shook his head softly, as if in deep thought. "I don't know, love," Dave murmured, conflicted. "I believe her."
"Yeah, forget what I said," I muttered casually before yawning with fatigue. "You're the cop, so you're better at this than I am."
As we were heading to bed, I finally remembered to ask Dave to come to Julia's funeral the next day but he refused, and I immediately regretted asking. Everything closely relating to St Matthew's was a touchy subject for him.
The next day, I woke up early after a good night's sleep for the first time in a whole week. I took the time to take a long shower before doing up my hair in a bun and picking a black lace dress. I wasn't sure I should even go. I had gotten my invitation at the office, but knowing she was alive turned all of this into a farce. I wondered if the coffin would be empty or if they'd put something heavy in it to give the illusion of a corpse. These thoughts made me shiver and I locked myself in the bathroom with another dose of the heavenly powder before my body could start shaking and freaking out again.
I asked the guards to drop off Dave at the Police station before driving me to the funeral. As expected, there weren't that many people and I still I was sure Julia didn't like half of these people. I made my way into the church, just to see Roger Penhalington greeting the guests alongside Julia's mom and I was glad for the drugs in my blood, otherwise I'd have thrown a fit.
In what world, is the ex-husband considered to be mourning as much as the mother?! Julia and Roger didn't even speak to each other, and when they did, it was more arguing than anything else. "Mrs Montague, Mr Penhalington, I'm so sorry for your loss," I intoned when it was my turn. Julia's mother nodded, but Roger seemed surprised at seeing me here. Hell, even I was surprised I showed up.
After watching Julia's empty casket being lowered six feet under, I was ready to leave this masquerade when Roger ambushed me, showing up out of nowhere. "Mr Penhalington, is everything alright?" I asked politely, faking concern as to put up a show for the people standing around us.
"Did you happen to retrieve any of Julia's personal belongings?" Roger asked in a low tone, seemingly agitated. When he noticed that he was fidgeting, he put his hands inside his trousers' which made for a bizarre look on him. "Her handbag, briefcase or anything?"
"No," I replied hesitantly, furrowing my brows as if I was thinking it through. "I remember she left them in the side entrance's anti-chamber at St Matthews, but I don't know who retrieved those items. Why?" And just when I asked the question out loud, I figured it out on my own. He was looking for the kompromat.
"They're of sentimental value," he added, obviously disappointed by my lack of help, but at the same time, not entirely convinced by my answer. And then he left just as quickly as he had appeared in the first place.
After the funeral, I decided to call Sara and meet up with her for some cocktails. She first made sure I was alright after the attack and then we began speaking about more trivial matters. "Actually, Cedric and I are getting married," Sara announced proudly, before pointing out the new shiny ring on her finger and I felt bad for not having noticed on my own.
"Oh my god," I blurted out, genuinely happy for her. "Congratulations!" She hugged with such excitement that she almost broke me in half. "Do you guys have a date, yet?"
"Yes," she replied before taking a large sip of her Margarita. "In exactly one month, in Cancun." That was soon!
The truth is I didn't meet up with Sara just to have a fun time. Roger didn't believe a word I said, and I'm sure he had me followed when I left the funeral. Going back home in a hurry would have looked shady and suspicious, but going out with a friend? That doesn't sound like someone who's hiding something.
A couple of hours in, I told Sara I needed to go home and work on my thesis. Once back at my parent's flat, I went to retrieve my laptop and the tablet from their hiding spots, and finally found a place where to put them for safekeeping.
"I'm walking to the library to do some research," I announced to the bodyguards on duty, leaving the flat again less than ten minutes after getting there.
For the first time, I was thankful for my father's insistence on providing me with protection. Roger was a politician, the kind who do Politics not as a passion or as an end in itself, but as a means to access power and I knew well enough, that those were the most dangerous kind.
As soon as I arrived at the law library, I retrieved a key to a temporary locker and put my coat and in bag in there. And then I headed towards the computers, needing to make time as to not make this visit to the library appear suspicious either. Especially, because the Police believed I had lost my laptop. I made a mental note to go buy a new laptop the next morning. It was what any normal student would do if they lost theirs. I stayed there for two hours, doing random law related research on the Internet without truly paying attention before heading back to the locker and picking my empty bag and coat. Making sure no one was looking, I hid the key in my bra.
Outside the library, the guards were waiting to walk me back to the flat.
When David got home, I was already asleep. Now that Dave was working again, even if only officiously, I didn't know when he'd be back home. In fact, I barely saw him the next couple of days apart from in the mornings when we would both get ready for work. Surprisingly, I wasn't too concerned. He texted me often enough to let me know he was okay and truth be told, working seemed to be a welcome distraction for him though I didn't exactly know what he was doing apart from helping interviewing Nadia. Was he still in on some dubious business, like when he was spying on Julia?
The next day, I stopped by an Apple store in the morning before going to work. At the internship, I was trying to figure out who exactly knew about the kompromat. Stephen Hunter-Dunn knew without doubt. That's certainly what they talked about that morning at the hotel when Julia asked me to leave them alone. But did Mike also know? And what about Sampson?
Dave sent me a text message, asking me to call him back as soon as possible and I decided to take my break sooner than expected. Alone in the breakroom, I called him back and he picked up after the very first ring, as if expecting my call.
"Dave, what's wrong?" I inquired in a hushed voice. Even though I was alone in the room, I couldn't be sure they hadn't bugged the entire building.
"Someone came to Vicky's work yesterday, telling her about us," Dave snarled quickly, almost out of breath as if he was running.
"But she already knew, so?" I was puzzled. What was David getting at?
"It's was that man, Longcross. The one Julia with whom had a private meeting at the hotel once," Dave explained. I remained silent and after a few seconds, I heard him sigh. "I know you were spying on me." Yeah, that came as shock and I had definitely not been expecting that. How did he know?
"Look, Dave, I'm sorry. It's, I don't-" I was stammering.
"No, love, it's okay," Dave jabbered. "Has Longcross ambushed you as well?" I could hear the concern in his voice.
"No," I said honestly.
"Good!" David breathed out with relief. "Stay with the guards at all times, please."
I wanted to ask him where was and what he was even doing but he hung up before I had a chance to. Later that day, arriving at the flat after work, I realized we had been broken into. They left the apartment upside down but nothing was stolen because they obviously didn't find what they came for.
"Miss, we need to call your parents and the Police," the bald bodyguard announced, his cell phone already in hand.
"Don't!" I blurted out aggressively before recomposing myself. "That would just make them worry and this doesn't appear to be anything else than a failed robbery attempt."
David got home all wet that night, he had probably been outside in the heavy downpour. When I asked him what he had been doing, he just avoided the question. He appeared quite secretive these past few days. It started worrying me that with all this going on, we were still keeping secrets from each other and I sensed this would come to bite us in the ass.
The next morning, Dave left early again. Something about searching Julia's flat with DS Rayburn. So, this meant the Police knew about the kompromat but they didn't know I had it. And considering, the secrets between David and myself, I wasn't sure whether he knew I had it still. I texted Julia to let know the Police was closing in on the tablet business.
The day was passing and David wasn't answering to any of my texts, and even the Cocaine wasn't managing to keep me calm now. At 11pm, I still hadn't heard of David. All my texts were left unanswered and he wasn't picking up the phone either. Just as I was about to take another dose to help me destress, there was a knock on my door. The Police.
"Good evening, Alma," DS Rayburn greeted me in an awfully neutral voice as she and DCI Sharma sat down at the opposite side of the table in the interrogation room. "Thank you for meeting us so late."
"You didn't exactly give me in an option," I replied sassily, a big smile on my face, but on the inside I was screaming and crying at the same time. None of them seemed to take offence from my tone of voice.
"Last time we met, you confirmed the relationship between yourself and PS Budd had gone beyond the professional boundaries," DS Rayburn drawled, not really expecting an answer from me. "Was the relationship consensual or did PS Budd threaten you in any way?" Rayburn asked, and both police officers were now attentively staring at me.
I just stared back at them, throughout confused. Were they insinuating David had forced himself upon me?! "Of course, David didn't threaten me!" I blurted out, offended they'd even consider that. "Our relationship has always been consensual."
"Listen, Alma," DCI Sharma spoke almost patronizingly, his crossed hands on the table. "You're either his victim or his accomplice."
"The hell are you suggesting?!" I spat out, my voice raised but neither of them were intimidated. They left me a few seconds to recompose myself before Rayburn took a photograph from her file and showed it to me.
It was a white male. I couldn't even estimate his age because half his face was deformed with severe burn scars. "This is the shooter from Thornton Circus," Rayburn explained. "Have you ever seen this man before?"
"Never," I answered honestly. "I'd remember a face like that, certainly." Sharma and Rayburn were both nodding softly, as if my answer had confirmed their theory. "Why?" I inquired, with curiosity.
"This man is Andrew Apsted," Sharma detailed but I cocked my eyebrows. Was I supposed to know that name? "He served with PS Budd in Helmand Province, Afghanistan, for two rounds."
I remained silent, but internally I cursed myself. Why had David hidden this from me? And more importantly, why hadn't I figured this out on my own?
"I wasn't aware David knew the shooter," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. I was frankly embarrassed at my ignorance. Sharma and Rayburn looked at each other, making sure they were on the same wavelength before one of them said anything else.
"We suspect PS Budd is involved in the St Matthew's bombing," Sharma put into words what we were all considering at that point and the accusation shocked me even though I had been expecting them to say it all along. Hell, for a few seconds I even wondered myself if David had anything to do with it, but I quickly brushed off that thought. There were lies and secrets between us, but I truly cared about him and I was deeply convinced it was mutual. He wouldn't ever have deliberately put me in danger like that.
"I cannot imagine for just one second that Dave had anything to do with that," I retorted quickly but none of them seemed to care about my opinion.
"We've been trying to locate him for a few hours now, but we've been unsuccessful so far," Rayburn admitted with disappointment. "We never really suspected you of being involved, but we wanted to know if you knew where he was."
"I don't where he is," I confessed, shaking my head in slowly. "I haven't seen since this morning." Technically I wasn't lying, I simply wasn't telling the whole truth.
DS Rayburn and DCI Sharma let me go but asked me to let them know if I heard from Dave and not to leave London until this was over but I never had any intentions of doing that. As soon as I arrived at the flat, I used my iPhone to track down David's. When I had handed him his cell phone, I never told him I'd activated this function. After all, it was only for emergencies and considering he had tried putting a bullet through his brain, my precautions didn't seem exaggerated.
To my disappointed and aggravation, I wasn't able to find his current localisation. Most likely because the phone was turned off. However, the most recent one I could identify was some downtown bar two hours ago. Without giving it further thought, I made sure I still had the gun in my bag and retrieved a silencer from the freezer, before asking to be driver to that bar.
/
Hey, it's me again. The next chapter will be the last episode of the season. I'm not sure yet if I'll have to break the episode into two chapters or not. Also, I've been coming up with a plot in case I decide to continue this story beyond the TV show.
As always, please let me know what you think and also if'd you enjoy a "sequel".
