PART I
Prologue
Joanne Hartwell had never flown in a private jet before. Julian had promised her a little adventure into his world of secrets, MI6 and its equivalent, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. She wished more than anything that Julian could be here to share in the sumptuous surroundings of his luxury gulf stream. She missed him and their lively conversations they'd have when he'd return for a few weeks to his vacation home in at Patos in the north Puget Sound - one of the many islands in the San Juan archipelago..
Due to the politics and intrigue Julian was currently embroiled in, he'd had to remain in Australia with ears on the ground as to who had infiltrated the top ranks of both the British and Australian Intelligence. He suspected it was more than one person, who was possibly working for a cabal or other secret network.
True to form, he had made Joanne sign the Official Secrets Act; dear friend that she was, state secret knowledge of this magnitude needed to be in writing. He was quite the stickler for rules. Still, the fact remained that nobody in the ASIS or the British SIS could be trusted. It was with her alone that he sent the top secret letter to give to his cousin Mycroft Holmes, head of British Security Services, and was now sending her across the Atlantic to meet him in London.
The trip would be a short one due to the potential danger Joanne could be in should she be found out. She was to meet Mycroft at The Langham hotel to hand off the letter.
Settling down to lunch, she spread a fine linen napkin over her lap and tucked into the tasty salad, pasta marinara and fine wine. Joanne couldn't wrap her head around all this wealth. She had known Julian was well off, but not to this extent. Although a practical man, his tastes ran toward the elegant and refined. The polished table and sideboard gleamed, the scent of the freshly cut flowers sublime. Knowing she would probably never again be surrounded by such luxury, Joanne intended to enjoy this to the fullest.
Known to her family and few friends as the 'Average Jo', this was a totally novel experience and quite unprecedented for someone like her. Who would have thought that a lowly medical assistant at a family run podiatry clinic would end up delivering a top secret letter to the head of the British Security Services?
Savoring the exquisite cabernet sauvignon (over $2,000 a bottle!), she sank into the soft leather seat, her mind melted into sensory overload.
Diagnosed around age five with Synesthesia, life was an interesting, but not always a pleasant one. Some things, like the sweet, smooth wine she currently sipped, the colorful fragrance of the flowers, and the zesty full bodied pasta sauce, were wonderful to her senses. Colors and textures abounded. When those senses crossed, colors were smelt and tasted, and impressions of everyday life were filtered and focused into her brain in ways she could not put into words. Touch was also affected, but to a lesser extent: Most objects could somehow be physically felt by only looking at them. Visually, letters and numbers were assigned their own various shades of color.
The auditory faculties gave her the most trouble. Sounds, as well as smells, had texture, weight and color, which could be hard to endure, especially in a city or large town. Joanne couldn't set foot in one without earphones and music to neutralize the noise and physical unpleasantness.
It was this very curse, or, as it turned out, gift, that was the cause for her current trip to London. Looking out the window, Joanne's mind drifted back to the first time she had met Julian, a little over a year ago.
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The couple ahead of her paused, stopping to look at something on the man's phone. Joanne slowed, debating whether to venture into the street and pass them, or wait. The bus to work was due in 4 minutes, and she wasn't in the mood to watch their romantic antics. Love, or the lack of it, had been on Joanne's mind lately.
She would be 46 in less than five months, and sensed time for that kind of thing was running out. What decent looks she possessed were fading by the year. It really was true, that on reaching middle age and beyond, some women wanted to find a mate; someone to take care of them, to grow old with and to not be alone in their later years. Being fiercely independent, Jo had scoffed at the idea. Yet lately on her brisk walks around the local trails, it seemed there was no avoiding couples and lovers, both young and old. Would she ever find someone? Considering she was a real homebody and never went out except for work, invigorating walks around the neighborhood and visits to the local park, it seemed unlikely.
During her days off, she sat under the pine tree at the park with the geese. They were her only friends these days. Jo preferred the company of the birds to humans, especially after interacting with patients and co workers for hours on end.
It was very calming to rub her face against their soft, smooth plumage while they were otherwise occupied eating out of the treat bag. Each one had a different scent. One smelled like creosote, another like Lilacs, yet another like sunscreen. Joanne figured it was her Synesthesia playing with her senses, but still, it was wonderful. On cold days, she would slip her hands under their wings to keep warm. It felt like being enveloped in a warm down coat, the colors in her mind soft and fuzzy, subdued and calming. She'd been coming to this park for years, and all the geese knew her. As far as Joanne could tell, she was the only one they would let pet and hug them. In spring, the parents would nudge their goslings over to her. How many generations were there, now? She'd lost count.
Watching the parked cars across the small pond, Joanne wondered who sat inside them; it was usually the same cars day in and day out on their lunch breaks. Who were they? Possibly single and also looking for someone? Her hopes were dashed when the doors would open and a couple would emerge, or a family would tumble out, the kids running over to the nearby playground. The few men that were alone were either too old or too young. Resigned to her fate, she squared her shoulders and checked for oncoming cars, quickly hurrying past the mincing couple. They barely glanced at her as she rushed by.
Arriving at work, she checked the schedule to see when the last patient would be. The list was short, the patients spaced out by half an hour or more. Still, if all went well, there would indeed be time for a few quick laps around the block.
The afternoon went by quickly, each patient needing something extra, it seemed. An xray here, a layered compression cast there. The doctor was beginning to run behind, when her boss, Dr. Packman's wife, informed her of an end of the day walk in, and a new patient, no less. So much for that walk. Still, with the rent going up astronomically every year, Joanne wasn't complaining, and coveted any extra hours provided. The Packmans had been good to her for the five years she had worked there, had been spoiled in fact. She owed them much.
The last scheduled patient was leaving when the new one arrived. Joanne was cleaning and preparing the exam room when she heard a deep, booming voice come from the reception area. The accent was Australian, yet, there was a very definite underlying British one. Burning curiosity brought Joanne out to the front desk, who peered over the counter at the new arrival. Another man sat with him as they quietly conversed.
He was a big man; not fat in the conventional way, but large boned, and tall. She estimated him to be at least six five. He was elegance personified, impeccably dressed in a dark three piece suit, complete with a silk handkerchief and double Albert chain attached most likely to an old fashioned watch fob hidden inside the waistcoat pocket. Dark hair thinning at the top and with slight jowls, the man looked to be in his early to mid sixties.
Sensing her gaze, he glanced up at her. Piercing brown eyes bore into hers. Deep intelligence glittered in their depths, and something else, as though he could read her mind. His eyes were dark as though Middle Eastern, yet his skin was as pale as an Englishman's. This was a new one for Jo, who could usually tell where a person was from, based on either accent or physical characteristics. He seemed to encompass both.
She glanced down at the penciled in name on the schedule: Julian Holmes.
His companion was also well dressed, but not as extravagant as her patient. His bearing and speech to Julian Holmes was as a subordinate or employee.
Time seemed to stretch like melted taffy as she thought of something to say. Who was this man? No one of this caliber ever came to the clinic. Usually the clientele were Medicare patients, as well as the occasional retired doctor and everything in between. This was someone outside of normal social circles, and she couldn't wait to find out more about him. The reason for his visit never even crossed her mind, until she saw how he was holding his right foot. Even from across the room, she could tell it was painful for him.
Misinterpreting her curiosity for impatience, he stated drily, "Nearly done. I am sorry to keep you so late this evening, I quite imagine you are ready to go home." His voice was deep and sonorous, cultured and refined.
The receptionist had left for the day an hour earlier, and the boss had gone downstairs to her office after checking him in. Her co worker was long gone, having been the opening MA that day, and the doctor was in his back office typing away at chart notes. It was just Joanne, this intriguing man and his companion.
Signing the last of the paperwork, he slowly stood and came over to the desk. "Back in a tic, Henry," he called over his shoulder to the seated man, who nodded curtly in acknowledgement and resumed texting.
"I believe you will find everything in order," Julian stated, sliding the papers across the counter. Considering how impeccably he was dressed and well groomed, she didn't doubt it. Just his attention to the smallest details of his wardrobe was astounding.
His expensive fragrance drifted over with the papers. Subtly spicy, the scent flashed colors and textures through her mind: A dark red with subtle indigo, smooth with small gritty points of yellow sprinkled throughout. It was exquisite.
Barely glancing at the paperwork, she nodded, suddenly shy. "Yes, looks fine. Come on back." Opening the door, she was about to lead him down the hall to the exam room, when she paused. "Would you like to bring your friend back with you?" she asked.
He shook his massive head in the negative. "No need. That is my assistant Henry, who sees to my transportation needs." She nodded to Henry in greeting, who looked up and smiled briefly, before returning to his phone. Joanne took her patient back.
Although clean, she realized the rooms and the small clinic in general, must have appeared very homely and economic compared to what he was normally used to. It was all somewhat daunting. How had he ended up here?
Taking a deep breath, she was determined to stay focused. "How're you this evening?" She gestured to the podiatric chair. "Go ahead and have a seat in the chair of honor!"
Normally her attempt at humor would crack a smile on the face of even the most reticent of her patients. Not so with this taciturn man. His sense of humor was either nonexistent or very dry. "Also, please remove your shoes and socks. What brings you in tonight?"
Slowly, the man named Julian Holmes lowered himself into the chair next to the one she had indicated. "I'll pop up there in one moment. It is difficult to bend down these days," he said, indicating his shoes. She couldn't imagine this man 'popping' off anywhere.
"Do you need help removing them?" she asked. He impatiently shook his head, looking slightly affronted. "I may be getting on in years, but I've not reached that point yet. Tell me, do I look in need of assistance?" Although stated politely, there was an undercurrent of indignation. Dark eyes flashed.
Startled, Joanne backed away. "No offence meant, really! It's just, I always ask.. as a courtesy..." she faltered.
"To elderly persons, you mean?" he added somewhat testily.
"I.." She trailed off. What could she say? This was going sideways very fast. Focusing on his current problem, her mind went on autopilot as she peppered him with the routine medical questions.
Shoes and socks removed, he settled his large frame into the exam chair. "Lift up for me?" she asked, indicating his long legs that stretched far beyond the chairs edge. Shifting a lever, the bottom half was pulled out to extend it. Tipping him back using the foot peddle, Joanne continued on. "Any history of gout?" she asked, noting the red, swollen first toe.
"As a matter of fact, yes. That is what brings me in tonight. As you can see, it is incredibly painful." He winced as Joanne lightly felt the heated skin with the back of her hand. Scribbling down notes, she continued the obligatory questions while glancing at his paperwork. Age of 61. Unmarried. Local address on one of the San Juan islands up the Sound. Employment: Civil Servant. Hmm. Interesting.
Julian' sharp eyes missed nothing. He seemed to be studying her as much as she was him. Sensing what she was thinking, he said, "I live in Australia, but make my home on Patos Island during the summer months. As you can see, the heat does not agree with my condition."
"You live on Patos Island? I didn't know there were any homes there. It's all owned by the Bureau of Land Management, if I remember right. Nice island, but all wilderness."
"Ah. Well, some years ago, I purchased the island from your government. There is only one home there currently - mine. Of course, it's closed to the public now. It's private and quite suitable."
"No way! You own the island?!" Jo couldn't help gawping. Some of her patients did indeed live on the San Juan's, but none owned an entire island.
Julian smiled, amused by her reaction. "A man in my occupation likes a bit of peace and quiet. I obtained it at a discount."
"How'd you wrangle that? Our gov isn't exactly known for that kind of thing."
A rich, baritone laugh suddenly erupted from his expansive chest. "Connections my dear girl. I know many people in your government, and some of them owe me favors." His reserved demeanor returned once more.
Vital signs done and information entered into the computer, it was time to let the doctor know he was ready. And yet, the more she learned of this mysterious man, the more she wanted to know.
One thing was certain: There was an authoritative and possibly dangerous air about him. Whatever position this man held, most likely a senior one, he was not one to be crossed. Julian Holmes was perhaps the most intimidating man she had ever met. And fascinating.
"How did you find out about us? I would have thought there would be podiatrist somewhere nearby on one of the larger islands."
"There is not. The one on the nearest retired, apparently. I met one of your other patients in a small supermarket on Orcas Island. It's the nearest grocers to Patos. After noting my bothersome foot, he commented that I should see a podiatrist, and yours came highly recommended."
Joanne wondered about his 'connections' in the government. Civil Servant, it had said on his occupation description. Definitely Australian government. How had he even known about Patos? Who exactly was he connected with, and how high up did they go? How high in the upper echelons was this man? She had to know.
"What is your job, if you don't mind my asking? What kind of work does a civil servant entail?" Joanne indicated the registration form. "You can tell me if I'm being too forward. It's just, you are unlike anyone that's ever come to our clinic before.." Afraid she had been too bold, she held her breath, praying his temporary good humor wouldn't evaporate.
It didn't.
"Ah!." said he, still chuckling. "You know much more about me now, and you've yet to tell me your name." The man was evasive, she gave him that!
"Joanne.."
He raised an eyebrow, silently entreating her to continue.
"Hartwell," she finished. "'The Average' Jo to my friends."
"Well, Miss 'Average Jo to my friends Hartwell', it is very nice to meet you. I assume you've surmised mine," he noted, glancing at the papers.
A wide grin spread across her face. "Why yes. Yes I did!"
She liked this man. Reserved and dour at first, he slowly opened up to her.
Joanne detected a certain loneliness about him. Having worked over twenty years in the medical field, she had come across many like him. No matter their job, they were usually loners outside of work, and not quick to trust people. Oh yes, she knew this kind quite well. It took one to know one. He seemed to sense this, and was possibly thinking the same.
Not wanting to keep him here later than he needed to be, she went to inform Dr. Packman that he was ready. Still furiously typing out a prior patients' note, he barely nodded and indicated he would be in shortly. Joanne quickly rushed back to her patient.
"He's just finishing a chart note, and will be in shortly. Hey, I notice you seem to have both an Australian accent and a British one. I could be wrong.. I always like guessing where folks are from with their accents, but yours is different!"
Julian looked surprised and taken aback. At first she thought she had (again) offended him, but there was nothing but a keen interest on his face now.
"Really? You picked up on that?" Smoothly evading her question, he asked a few of his own. "Tell me, do you know any foreign languages? You appear to have an ear for it."
"Well.. I learned Italian when I was stationed in Naples. Was in the Navy for 12 years before I had to get out for my back." (This was only a half truth. There was more to it than that, but she wasn't about to admit this to him). Joanne sensed he knew she was holding something of importance back. Fortunately, he didn't press the issue.
"I also learned the Russian alphabet," she continued, "and the Greek, as it's the parent to the Cyrillic, so it wasn't too hard. During my stay there, I'd gone to both Russia and Greece, and figured I should at least learn how to read it, even if I didn't know what I was actually reading. Unless it sounded like English phonetically, I had no clue!"
He looked at her, curious. "And how long did it take to learn them?"
"A few days."
Julian's eyes widened, studying her intently. "Yet you say you did not actually learn them. Only how to read the written texts."
"That's correct. I wanted to, but figured it wasn't worth my time as I'd only be in each place a week. Still, I liked the music, especially Greek. I still read it, and YouTube the videos with subtitles. Also the cursive."
"And Italian. You spoke the language, then?"
"Yes, it was easy once I learned the basic rules for it, and how each letter or pair of them are pronounced. Like 'CH' is pronounced with a hard 'K' sound, not like CH in say, chips."
"And it took you how long?" The intensity of his gaze was unnerving. It was as though he were deeply considering something. What, she couldn't fathom.
"Ah, well, I didn't really apply myself too hard. I worked at the Naval Hospital, so everyone including the Italians spoke English there. It was only when I moved out into town that I had to really learn it. Probably a month or so, and even then, it wasn't that good, but ok enough to get around. It's only when totally immersed in a language that I can learn it fully, and since I wasn't, well.. it was a bit broken."
Julian's hands were steepled under his chin as he gazed at her, his thoughts turning inward. She remembered her earlier question.
"So, how is it that your accent both British and Australian? Or am I wrong?"
He was about to reply, when the Podiatrist walked in, thus ending their engaging conversation. It would have to wait, but by then, the visit would be over and he would be wanting to get home.
It was this last thought that made her wonder how he was getting home. Patos Island was a good three or more hours by ferry, at least. She had taken the Victoria Clipper to British Columbia a few times; it was almost a two hour ride. Patos was farther north than even Victoria. She needn't have worried, though.
"I have a marine vehicle waiting at the Edmond docks," he said, rapidly texting something into his phone. "My assistant is calling a cab as we speak."
Marine vehicle? What kind? She couldn't imagine the man in a speed boat.
Reading the question in her eyes, he stated simply: "Just a small boat to get about around the islands." Enigmatic indeed.
The diagnosis of gout was confirmed by ultrasound, as well as mild arthritis in the joints of the foot and ankle. A repeat visit would be required for the gout, as well as a cortisone injection for the ankle at a later date, after the gouty flare up subsided. A soft cast would be needed both today and again at his next visit to keep the swelling under control.
Joanne was applying the wrap when the doctor walked back in, telling her to schedule a follow up for Julian in a week. For some reason, this made her very happy. Julian hid a small smile as well.
Joanne led him out the connecting door to the waiting room. The assistant Henry was still texting on his phone. She suspected he did more than just see to Julian's transportation.
About to hand him a reminder card, Julian waved a large but elegant hand, the cufflinks on his sleeve gleaming. "No need for that. I've memorized it, as well as the phone number of this office, should I need it." She had memorized the date, too.
He looked pointedly at her. "I trust I will see you again?"
"Yes, I'll be here." With bells on, she thought.
"Very well. We will continue our earlier conversation at that time, and I shall endeavor to have an answer to your earlier question. Now! Henry! I believe that is our cab." Bright lights swept the small but otherwise empty parking lot outside as the cab parked and waited.
Julian extended his hand to her as he warmly shook it. "Thank you again Miss Hartwell for yours and Dr. Packman's excellent service. It was a pleasure, I assure you. Ήταν υπέροχο να σε γνωρίσω. Καληνύχτα. Μέχρι να συναντηθούμε ξανά..."
With that, he turned and was followed out the door by Henry, who bid a quick "Goodnight, Miss Hartwell," before hurrying after his employer.
Julian's exotic scent lingered in the room.
He spoke Greek! And he hadn't let on that he knew the language! Joanne wondered how many others the man spoke. She would have to ask him for a translation of what he had so gently spoken. Though she recognized it by listening to various Greek songs, she had no idea what he had said.
There was still the question regarding his mingled Australian and British accents, which he promised to answer later. So many mysteries surrounding this intriguing man, which Joanne hoped would be solved in one weeks time.
On their next encounter, however, she was to discover that Julian knew far more about her than she realized, and that his answers would lead to even more questions.