SECRETS AND SPIES

Chapter Seventeen

Ignoring the speed-limit I stamp on the gas pedal when I reach the crown of the bridge. The Marin Headlands has appeared in front of me and my eagerness to get there has taken control of my right foot. A compulsion to reach the only spot within driving distance where I can think objectively salves my conscience about disregarding social responsibility, so when Hawk Hill, the highest point appears, on the horizon a few seconds later, I press the gas pedal even harder even though there's not much more to give and my reckless behavior continues. Thankfully the bridge isn't jammed with traffic for once so I can zip past slower drivers once they get out of my way.

If I was bothered to take my eyes off the road and appreciate the view that surrounds me, the bridge's misnamed rust-red suspension towers are still topped by an eerie shroud of fog. To my left, the Pacific bathes in strong sunlight; a ribbon of deep blue offset against the greens and browns of the undulating shore. On my right in the Bay, the walls of lonely Alcatraz have just emerged from behind a wall of sea mist. On the opposite shore, the windows of the city's affluent office buildings flash and sparkle in the late-morning sunshine.

Below the bridge, stalking sharks and dangerous rip tides inhabit the black water that churns around the uprights; a stark contrast to the serene panorama the Golden Gate straddles. My focus though is solely on the shore I'm heading for. As the familiar terrain fills my field of vision, the colors of the rolling hills change constantly according to how much sun is breaking through the murk which still lingers above it. The Headlands are an unspoiled haven of peace and tranquillity if you can find a spot inaccessible to tourists, and this is where I'll attempt to resolve my dilemma about whether to trust Bella, now I have the feeling she could possibly be working against me.

As I'm driving, memories of some of the darkest days of my teens return and I shudder. Despite not being religious, the Marin Headlands had become a place of pilgrimage after mom died, which is odd now as this could be the place where dad's life ended. Despite dad pleading with me not to cross the bridge on a bike, I'd regularly cycle up to the highest point of the peninsula after school because I'd convinced myself that Mom's spirit was with her beloved Golden Eagles that occasionally visit the headlands. The birds fly there to search for prey. I cycled there to search for solace.

It's been fourteen years since my last visit and despite knowing this is where dad was allegedly murdered, coming here is my only option. If I take the wrong decision about whether to trust Bella or not, and whether I should keep placing my safety in her hands, a lifetime of regret will follow. I need to be somewhere where I feel comfortable, and then if I make the wrong decision at least I'll know I tried everything to do right by dad and by everyone else.

Bypassing the tourist parking lots I drive further inland to a small, unmarked lot close to Hawk Hill that only locals use. Only a short walk through the brush and not following any of the marked trails, and then down a steep, rocky slope that looks impassible if you don't know the safe route, there is a smooth flat rock on the edge of a promontory that overlooks the city. This is where I'd sit for hours talking to mom's spirit and this is where I'm heading now. Back then, I desperately wanted to be near her somehow. I imagined I could feel her ethereal presence in the air that swirled around the hill and this helped a bereft teenager to make decisions that enabled him to move on with his life. I'm hoping being in the same spot will help this thirty-two-year-old man, as he needs help more than ever now.

The air temperature is uncomfortably warm as I settle myself down on my smooth, silver shelf. The view hasn't changed in fifteen years. Well, maybe San Francisco has a few more skyscrapers now and the city has expanded further, but that could be my memory playing tricks. The water is as lively as I remember it, with every shape and size of vessel criss-crossing the Bay, including a giant cruise ship which is marring the view of tourists trying to take the classic picture of the bridge. What is missing though is the absolute silence I used to enjoy up here which angers me.

Even though I can't see another human being from where I'm sitting, I can hear them in the vicinity. That is, I can hear their cell phones pinging or playing inane tunes. I feel the need to scream, "For fuck's sake – for once in your life just STOP and enjoy what's around you," but resist. Getting riled up is not the right mindset to be in so I try and let the fact that I'm surrounded by ignorant assholes wash over me.

A light breeze touches my face which resurrects a strong memory. When I was fourteen, after mom died, I'd imagine the wind up here was mom's fingertips stroking my cheek, like she did when she thought I was asleep. My own hand follows her action and it's like she's here with me again. I can sense her around me and smell her unique scent. Lying flat on the stone I imagine I'm in bed. She's tucking my quilt around me and I can feel the touch of her lips on my forehead. I'd pretend I was asleep until she crept out the room, even though I wanted to jump out of bed and tell her I loved her before she had the chance to say, "Love you, Edward," as she closed the door.

Jake was right. Mom was an angel, and I didn't appreciate what I'd got until she was gone.

The sky goes blurry and I sit up. Crap! I'm crying. When I was driving here I guessed I'd blub at some point. The eagles don't seem to be around today but they'll probably set me off as soon as the first one appears, even though I'm mature enough now to accept mom didn't reincarnate as one of these elegant but highly dangerous raptors.

"Why the fuck am I here?" I mutter under my breath.

You know why, Edward, my internal monologue replies like I have an annoying parrot sitting on my shoulder.

Yeah, to decide what to do about Bella.

Don't you trust her?

Not anymore.

Because she turned her back on you?

And other things.

Like what?

Secrets and lies.

What secrets?

There's definitely more to tell about James Hunter for a start, and how she was so conveniently planted at The Yard. If dad thought I was in danger, he would've had me out of there in a heartbeat. So it's bullshit she was working at The Yard 'protecting me' on his dollar for weeks before he disappeared. (I even do the air-quotes thing at my own silent musings).

So what's your explanation?

I don't know. It's all BS. If she's hiding information from me and talking to people behind my back, then any trust I had in her has … has disappeared … like a fart in the wind. (Proud of my Shawshank reference here).

Who do you think she's talking to?

It could be anybody. Hunter, the police, someone from the Army, her dad which is a strong possibility, or she could be working for one of the tech companies. I just don't know.

So you're pissed?

Yes, I'm pissed. I really thought we had something going, and trust was a big part of it. I wanted her to follow me here and I was stoked when she was waiting for me at the house. Last night I was in heaven. I think I'm probably in love with her, but my emotions are … all over the place.

Do you want her help or her company more?

Shit! I don't know. Yes, I need her help. I can't do this on my own. These people are fucking dangerous. The deadliest weapon I've ever handled is a hedge cutter. If someone pointed a gun at me I'd probably run like fuck.

And Bella the person? Is she clouding your judgment?

Of course she is. There can't be a relationship without trust and I can't trust her if she's hiding shit from me. I want her to be on my side. I need to know there's no ulterior motive; that she's not working for anyone else now.

So, turning her back on you is a hanging offence?

Yes … no … I don't know. Ah fuck!

What about the lies. Has she ever lied to you, apart from covering up why she came to The Yard for a job? I'm talking big lies now – not 'I'm leaving work early to visit mom then turning up on your doorstep.'

Yes …

When?

Let me think … Okay she hasn't lied; just kept shit from me. But that fucker Yorkie lied. His Chief lied.

Say it, Edward.

Okay, but my dad didn't lie, he just didn't warn me what was going on. He had time to write the letter. He had time to destroy his computer. Why couldn't he find the time to pick up the phone and call me? If he thought he was in danger, why didn't he just run?

Air moving around me interrupts my thoughts and I stare upwards into the sun. I hadn't noticed that a solitary eagle has arrived and is now circling so close I can feel the leisurely downbeat of it's wings. There are other hawks and vultures around, but they're keeping a respectful distance from a master of the air.

Lying back on my elbows to watch the eagle's display, I wonder whether he (I guess it's a he) is watching me, or even if he recognizes me from fifteen years ago. Eagles are long-lived, intelligent creatures, and I wouldn't be surprised if he recalls my scent.

It's strange, I have the feeling I am being watched but put this down to mild paranoia, like seeing the woman in the dental surgery as an obvious enemy. As the giant bird swoops really close to me, I hear the insult of all insults in this area of peace and tranquillity; the irritating hum of a fucking drone.

It appears on my left and shoots up in the air causing the eagle to wheel away in terror. Jumping to my feet I search the ground for a rock or anything heavy to lob at the drone but there's nothing big enough on hand to do any damage. The drone hovers above me and then darts away, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. I make a mental note to report it to the National Park Rangers, as I'm damned sure these things are banned on the Headlands because of the wildlife.

I'm not ready to leave yet so I sit cross-legged on the rock and focus on the city again. I can't see dad's house from here but know the general area where it's situated. I'm presuming Bella will still be there as I'd stranded her without a vehicle but she hasn't called to see whether I'm okay. She'll know where I am though as she's tracking my phone.

My mind still isn't made up. Should I trust Bella again? I can't take the search for dad any further on my own; that's for certain, but is she the right person to have by my side? Is Bella my only option, or should I try contacting the FBI, or the CIA, or even Yorkie now Jake's been attacked? Would any of them take my concerns seriously?

Sighing, I recall dad's warning about speaking to any law enforcement agencies, but he had no idea when he wrote the letter how this would play out. Thinking about it, why did he warn me against them? Why didn't he trust them? The only reason I guess is that he was concerned that in return for protection, he or I would be pressured into giving the government information about his discovery which could then be used as a weapon of war or give the US an unfair advantage, which could upset the balance of power in the world. He wouldn't have wanted that to happen, especially if having it corrupted the US's forces or the government agencies who dealt with this sort of issue. He held them in the highest regard but he obviously didn't trust them.

My thoughts are interrupted again. This time by my cell quietly vibrating in my pocket. A message from Emmett comes through so I swipe up to read.

'Ed. Local cops told Rosie's pa, hosp. security cams show 2 Asian guys tossing Jake onto the sidewalk then speeding off. No license plate. Will message if I hear more.'

Asian? Shit! Are the Triads involved? That's heavy stuff. Not what I was expecting. If this is to be believed I'd guess these guys have nothing to do with James Hunter, which as Bella said is more proof of at least two gangs. Dealing with one enemy is bad enough. Two is ridiculous. Why the hell don't they fight amongst themselves and cancel each other out.

'Because one of them might have your dad,' the annoying parrot answers.

I want to scream in frustration but I don't. Instead, I examine the world around me in wonder. Millions of people getting on with their lives, totally unaware that a battle for the supremacy of the technology industry and the ethical standards associated with it is being played out in the streets where they live. Silicon Valley, the center of the technology world, is a relative stones-throw from where I'm sitting now. My dad was acknowledged to be one of the famous five; the people who created the industry as we know it today. When history is written about how computer technology evolved, he will be named as both a hero and a villain, depending on who is doing the writing.

Jenks messaged a few days ago to say he'd collected copies of dad's obituaries for me. I'll read them one day. It's too raw at the moment. And then I smile. If by any chance dad is still alive, he'll be able to read them for himself. That would be a sight to behold and a memory to treasure.

I want that to happen, but in my gut, I don't think it will.

I lie back on the stone and stare upwards at the sky. Watching the eagle is mesmerizing although my eyes are getting tired staring at him swirling against the brightness. My lids feel heavy so I close them, telling myself it's easier to concentrate on the Bella situation if I switch myself off from the wonders of nature. The inevitable happens. I fall asleep.

Heat from my stone mattress wakes me after I don't know how long. My 'bed' now feels too hot to touch with my bare hands so I carefully roll onto my knees and stand. Touching the back of my head and my forehead is painful and I admonish myself for lying in the sun unprotected.

My cell says two-thirty, which means I've been away from Bella for nearly three hours so it's time to go, even though I still haven't made my mind up about her. If I wasn't so attracted to her it would be easier to … what? Walk away from her? Tell her not to bother coming back to The Yard? Find out what happened to dad on my own? I'm no further forward than I was when I came up here.

I can hear people talking nearby so I brush myself down and start climbing up so I can head back to the car. My face and neck feel sunburned and the oppressive heat is getting to me. For a few seconds after setting off I feel dizzy. I'm thirsty and my stomach growls with hunger, which is as good a reason as any to get back to the house.

The parking lot is at least a ten-minute walk away over uneven terrain. When I'm over halfway there I hear a faint but still annoying cell phone ring tone but can't see the culprit yet. The familiar tune triggers a memory and I try to recall where I heard it last.

"Hawaii Five O! Yorkie," I say out loud. There must be another Steve McGarrett wannabe around here. A Dick McGarrett more likely. I laugh at my own joke.

I continue walking until I spot the source of the ring tone roughly fifty yards ahead. He has his back to me but I recognize him immediately. Black hair, slim frame, disheveled jacket with elbow patches. He's talking on the phone and looking around him at the same time which means it's inevitable he'll spot me any second now. There's no point trying to avoid being seen. Anyway, he's between me and my vehicle and there's no convenient rock or tree to hide behind.

As I get within speaking distance he turns. I'm expecting him to look shocked seeing me here but there's recognition when his eyes meet mine and an instant understanding passes between us. He knew I'd be here. I wonder then whether the drone is how he found me? That notion infuriates me and I'm in the perfect mood for an argument.

"You do know that drones are banned here, asshole?" I spit.

"What drone?" Yorkie responds. The confused look on his face convinces me he doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about so I drop it.

"Never mind. Are you following me?"

"Not officially, Mr Cullen."

"What do you mean by 'not officially?' Are you off duty?"

"I'm on duty, but my boss doesn't know I'm here."

"Why are you here then? How did you know I'd left Colorado?"

"I drove by your house last night and saw lights on. I sat outside for a while in the car and nearly knocked."

"Why?"

Yorkie opens his mouth but hesitates for a few seconds before blurting out, "I … look … hell; we need to talk … and for two reasons now."

I don't say a word. I feel a confession coming on as his voice is definitely shaky. Instead, I stare at him in anticipation.

"Look, Edward, I'm sorry; I fucked-up. I'm not cut out for intrigue and I'm not a liar. I'm just an ordinary cop trying to do his job and I haven't had a proper night's sleep since I … since I sent you that text to tell you your father was dead."

I stop myself pulling him up about using my first name and take a second to digest what he's saying. There's a trace of panic in his eyes as though he's already said too much but there's more to come so I don't react.

"Go on," I say, trying not to sound too aggressive but failing.

"Holy shit!" Yorkie responds and turns his back on me. He shakes his head several times then spins around again. He's not exactly wringing his hands but his body-language is speaking volumes.

"Look, when I sent you the text confirming the body in the car was your father's, that wasn't true, but I guess you've worked that out already?"

I nod my head in confirmation but stay silent now as he could be recording me. One thing I have learned over the past week is not to trust anyone.

Yorkie sighs before speaking again.

"I was doing a night shift when I got a call from my boss to go up to the Headlands to investigate a body that had been found in a burnt-out vehicle. When I arrived, there were already six or seven guys around the Mustang but no squad cars or anyone in uniform which I thought was strange. These guys weren't cops. I didn't recognize any of them. I asked who they were and a guy who seemed to be in charge said they were from the government. He said the man in the car was known to them and his people would be dealing with the investigation. My job was to deal with the dead man's family and treat his death as a suspected suicide."

Yorkie stops talking. I guess he's waiting for my reaction before carrying on which means there's more to come. He's swallowing hard as well. Maybe he's expecting me to punch him?

"Go on," I repeat.

"I couldn't get near the car. I could see there was a badly-burned body in it but that's all. After about twenty minutes of hanging around, I was given a hand-written note giving me the car's license plate and your father's name. I was ordered to contact next of kin and inform them of his death, but not give any details away about the exact location of the wreck. It was obvious my presence was no longer required so I left."

"Did you call your boss and tell him what was going on?"

"You bet I did. I called Jack as soon as I got up there and was ordered to do exactly what I was told. I wasn't happy and told him so. He got hostile and swore at me, telling me it wasn't any of my damned business to ask questions and to do my effing job without argument. I smelled a rat because Jack's old school, Edward. He's been doing the night shift for years and I'd never heard him curse before. They, whoever they are, obviously got to him too."

"And then what?"

"Your name and cell number were already on my desk when I got back to the precinct. I called you not long after. Before I went off shift, I tried to find out where they were taking the body for the autopsy and formal identification and was met with a wall of silence. At about one-thirty in the afternoon, I got a call at home confirming the body was your father's and I was ordered to get hold of his dental records as a final confirmation. The caller, who didn't give his name, gave me your dentist's cell phone number and the location of his surgery and ordered me to get to it, pronto. I only found out later that you'd been sent a text at around three confirming it was your dad's body. I can only presume whoever sent the text presumed I'd got hold of his x-rays by then."

I'd been staring intently at Yorkie unaware that my hands have actually balled into fists which he's obviously noticed. I want to punch his lights out for what he's put me through, only if he is speaking the truth and this is what happened that night, it isn't his fault. I can see the anguish in his eyes and my sixth sense is telling me to believe him. I can't blame him for following orders – his badge and training compel him to do that. But what has triggered this confession? That's what I need to know.

"So what's changed? Why are you telling me this now?"

Yorkie shuffles out of his jacket, loosens his tie, and undoes the top two buttons of his shirt. He's sweating profusely and probably not only from the heat.

"My grandfather, who's still alive, is Chinese. He brought me up after my father died in the line of duty. He was a cop too. Grandpa constantly impressed Chinese proverbs on me about honesty. He said lies would always catch up with me. I was ordered to lie to you and it's been playing on my conscience ever since. This is not why I became a cop."

"So what else do you know? Is my father still alive and who are these guys?"

"I don't know. I truly don't, Edward. The autopsy was carried out in secret and nobody from my department ever saw the body. The autopsy report could've been written by J.K. Rowling for all I know. I've no idea what happened to the burnt-out shell of the car either, or whether it was your dad's car at all. Whoever was in that casket is anyone's guess. I'm sorry, Edward. That's all I can tell you about that night."

I have to think quickly now. Yorkie could be genuine, but then if he knew I was back in the city, did he follow me to the dentist? Is he coming clean now knowing I've probably worked out that the line he gave me about the dental records was bullshit? I want to believe he's genuine, but I've been kept in the dark and lied to so often, I don't know who to believe.

Yorkie is staring at me intently and his face is telling me there's worse to come. He's shitting himself in front of me, so what the hell is going on?

"Okay, so how did you know I was here, or even in San Francisco?"

"We were alerted when you got on the plane in Denver. Your phone is being tracked."

"Why?"

Yorkie takes a deep breath so I'm right. Something's coming that I'm not going to be happy about. He said he was here for two reasons, so he's left the worst till last.

"Edward, even though the police know you were in Colorado when your father died, because his death hasn't officially been called a suicide you've always been a person of interest."

"What do you mean 'a person of interest? Are you inferring …"

"Yes, this is the second reason I tracked you down. Because you stand to inherit considerable wealth from your father, it's been suggested by my superiors you could have had him murdered, and the reason you're kicking off about the investigation is a cover for your own guilt.

"What ... "

"I followed you today to warn you that you're being watched, that a case is being prepared against you, and it's quite possible you could be arrested at any moment. I know the whole thing is total bullshit, but for some reason whoever is behind what is effectively a conspiracy, wants you off the streets."

I thought my life couldn't get any worse, but I was wrong; so so wrong. "Holy shit!"

Holy Shit is right. Is Edward really a 'person of interest', or is he getting too close to finding out that either the police are corrupt, or there's something else going on behind the scenes, or both?

BTW I didn't realize there were so many Steve McQueen fans out there (raises hand)!

Joan x