Chapter 41

Ground Assault Part 2

2000 – London, UK

Cumulative stressors and repressed emotions caught up with Elvis. His hard exterior shell bore migrating hairline fractures. He walked out of Whitehall, down the concrete steps virtually on autopilot. Flashes of the day's events clouded his vision. He knew where he was, but was not really there. The late evening air carried a fine mist that brought him out of himself. He tilted his head upward to welcome the moist breeze. No mission, no battle, ever felt as overwhelming as the situation he now found himself in. What can he possibly say to Debra about all of this? Surely the arrests and charges against Gwain and Pyle will be publicized and the Simms will have their noses dug in deep to get answers.

Elvis looked at his watch. He had precious little time left in London. Leaving Laura will be difficult, for both of them. The shock and impact of the last few days has barely had a chance to sink in yet. At least she will be able to recover in her own home. She and Debra can begin to heal together without the interference of Reginald Gwain.

Xxxxx

2030 – Hereford, UK

The back garden view from the conservatory glowed in the wanning light of day filtering through the trees. To Georgie it meant that once the sun rose again her husband would be on his way home. Despite years in the military and separate tours of duty, it was never easy for them to be apart. She missed Elvis. She always felt vacant inside when he was absent. There were no updates since Laura was discharged from hospital. The last conversation with Elvis left many questions in the air and significant decision to be made. The conservatory was quiet, but she heard something. Her head spun to lock on the sound. No, it was not Daniel. Her phone!

Elvis!

He waited for her to answer. Normally he would be tapping something or pacing with impatience. Not now. He was beyond exhausted, numb to everything around him. He just needed to hear her voice.

Georgie grabbed for the mobile as if it were a lifeline. The name blazoned on the screen sent her pulse racing.

"Elvis! I'm here!" she said breathlessly, hoping the call had not gone to voice mail.

He allowed her words to wash over him. "Hey babe," he finally said.

She picked up on his reticence. "Is everything alright?"

"Not exactly."

"What's happened? Is Laura OK?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's OK."

"You're still comin home tomorrow, yeah?"

"I am. Can't wait to see ya George."

She felt the fatigue, or was it defeat, in his voice. That was so unlike him.

"Elvis tell me what's wrong."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted hard. He could never fool her. "Reg fucked up big time," he said.

"Reg? What did you do to him?" Her chest tightened, then her throat. She knew Elvis would tolerate Reginald's bullshit only for so long.

Elvis chuckled. It felt maniacal, but it felt good to laugh. "At's the kick George. I didn't do anything."

Xxxxx

2100 – London, UK

With the drapes pulled together the only illumination in the room shone from the recessed lighting behind the dry bar. Reginald cracked open another bottle of scotch. No ice this time. He swirled the amber liquid in the glass admiring it as though it were the most precious thing on earth. At the moment, it was the only companion he had. A sip, then another, until he felt the welcome return of inebriated numbness.

There had to be a way to break Elvis Harte. If it were not for Laura, Reginald reasoned, his marriage to Debra would be fine. He blamed Harte for that. His mobile chimed. He wanted to ignore it but recognized that distinctive tone. It was his senior security officer.

"What the bloody hell?" Reginald mumbled lifting the phone to his ear. It was too early for drama. The club was only preparing to open. "What?!"

"Mr. Gwain. You have visitors, sir.

"Do I now? And why precisely should I care?" Whilst saying this Reginald moved to the bank of video surveillance monitors in his office. He felt like his body was being crushed in a lift door when he saw the police. "What do they want?"

All visible to him on the screen, Reginald saw the phone taken from his guard.

"Reginald Gwain?" Came a commanding voice.

"Who wants to know?"

"Chief Inspector Connolly. We need to talk to you. Your man here was already served the search warrant."

Search warrant? Now it was difficult to breathe. Reginald swallowed down what was left in his glass and scanned the screens again, mentally weighing his options. The external feed showed patrons already lining up outside holding up their mobiles, recording whatever nonsense they thought they were witnessing.

"Yes, of course," Reginald said, adjusting his necktie. His hands were sweaty and stuck to the silken fabric. Seach warrant? His eyes flew all over the office. There was nothing in plain sight that he needed to worry about. He made certain the computer was off. All ledgers were locked in the safe. What was Debra up to now?

He watched the Inspector and several police board the lift and squinted hard to discern the uniforms of the last two men to enter before the door closed. His assistant was gone for the day. Reginald finger combed his hair and decided to meet the entourage as soon as they stepped out of the lift. Mustering his businessman persona, he unlocked the office door and watched the light panel as the lift reached the penthouse.

Xxxxx

Olivia became motionless. The magazine in her hands twitched. The bell sounded again. She rose from the sofa and cautiously walked to the front door. Peeking through the curtain she could see two figures standing there and immediately recognized the Metro Police hat.

"Debra!" she called out.

Not waiting for her daughter to respond, she unlocked the door.