Powder burns, p.9
Powder Burns, page 9
“Sorry it’s not more.” He said regretfully.
“Aww. Thanks hun, I’ll pay you back.” Becky paused for a moment and then added,
“And I know I still owe you a pint.” She fixed Elias’s gaze and brushed her fingers against his palm as she took the note. Declan saw how the young man’s pupils dilated and how he stared at Becky with such longing. Declan had worn those very same rose-tinted specs in his teens and it was near painful to understand now, with age and experience, that the poor guy didn’t stand a chance.
“You have… a tutorial!” Becky reminded haltingly, then she giggled coquettishly.
“Yes! Look, send me a message later and we’ll meet for coffee, yeah?” Elias said, flustered.
“Sure. Thanks again.”
The boy turned and ran off back up the road, turning one more time to gaze at Becky before hurrying on.
Declan watched as Becky’s once girly countenance dissolved. She scowled and stuffed the banknote into her purse then turned and entered the supermarket. Declan stepped out of line and followed her in.
Declan grabbed a shopping basket and determined to purchase the most expensive items he could see. He hurried to the drinks aisle and added a couple of bottles of Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut Champagne, priced at seventy-five pounds per bottle and a box of Godiva Anniversaires chocolates, priced at twenty-three pounds. He prowled the aisle, tossing a sandwich, crisps, bottle of water and a bar of chocolate in with his purchases. Then he found Becky. As Declan passed her, he pretended to peruse the shelves. He glanced into her trolley and saw from her purchases of vegetables, canned beans, Ramen noodles and ‘super saver’ pasta she was penny-pinching, and buying the cheapest, most filling foods. He found her issues with money and her thrifty grocery shopping to be curious as she was supposed to be living in pre-paid halls where all meals were catered for. He was sure now that Becky was paying for her halls, yet actually living elsewhere and fending for herself.
Declan followed as Becky pushed her trolley towards the checkout. She paused to glance at a nature magazine and so taking the opportunity, Declan darted in front of her in the queue.
Dr. Hunter placed the champagne, chocolates, and his lunch on the conveyor belt. He glanced behind and saw Becky was standing there. Their eyes met and she quickly looked away. Lovely! Becky had recognized Dr. Hunter and everything was going to plan. Becky loaded the conveyor belt with her paltry collection of items. The customer in front of Declan paid for her groceries and Declan readied to pack his purchases. The cashier scanned the champagne,
“You are over eighteen, aren’t you sir?” The older woman flirted, her accent from the Eastend of London. Declan gave her a grim look.
“I ‘ave to ask.” She smirked.
Declan remained tight-lipped.
“Champagne and chocolates, oo’s the lucky lady?” Jesus, she’s determined! Declan was not in a convivial mood and hated it when cashiers became chatty. He grabbed a carrier bag and placed his purchases inside.
“Do you have a Store Saver card?”
“No.” Declan drew his wallet from his inner breast pocket.
“Would you like one? The points you’d collect on these items are worth around twenty pounds.” The cashier informed.
Declan turned, “Becky, isn’t it? Hi.” He addressed awkwardly.
“Oh, Hi Dr. Hunter.” She replied with just as much discomfort in her voice.
“Do you have one of those Store Saver cards? You can have my points if you want.” He suggested.
Becky’s eyes widened at the generous offer. “Are you serious? Oh my God! Thank you so much.” She enthused as she hurriedly opened her purse and offered the card to the cashier who scanned it and gave it back.
“That’s one-hundred-and-eighty-pounds please sir, and oh, ten pence for the carrier bag.” Declan paid in cash, grabbed the receipt and pushed it into the bag.
“Thanks again Dr. Hunter!” Becky called brightly. Declan grinned to himself. It looked like he’d won her over at last.
****
CHAPTER 14
PARKLIFE
Declan sat on a bench in Kensington Gardens. It was overcast—not really the weather to dine al fresco, but still, he enjoyed the being outdoors and liked watching the change of season in the well-tended Royal gardens with their autumnal swathes of color.
The carrier bag containing the champagne, chocolates and more importantly, the receipt, sat on the ground by his legs. Declan chomped on his BLT sandwich and waited. The sound of seagulls fighting with pigeons by an overfilled litter bin caught his attention, and then more pigeons swarmed around his feet seeking sandwich crumbs. He kicked out and they flew in fright. He couldn’t look at the damn birds without a reminder of when the daft pigeon blew itself up by sitting on Madsson’s tripwire in the Cairngorms—and the horror show that ensued afterward.
Declan was dragged from the pool of dark memories by the wave-like sound of wheels on tarmac. The sound became louder and Declan looked to his left to see a skinny Anglo-Japanese youth approaching on a skateboard. He wore a black hoodie and jeans, giving him a defined sharp-cut silhouette. As he reached the bench the kid flipped his deck up into the air and snatched it with his left hand. He sat down on the bench; and placed the board between his thighs and then pretended to tie his laces. Declan casually opened his cheese and onion crisps and held the open packet out toward the kid. The boy turned to face Declan, and Declan was pleased, at last, to be face-to-face with his husband’s hacker friend Kei Nakamoto.
Kei looked like many of the skater kids Declan had seen hanging around the South Bank of the Thames—all long willowy limbs, torn black jeans and faded rock band t-shirt. This kid was, maybe, twenty-years-old. He had dyed blue tips to his thick black spiky hair, large blue-black Kohl eyes, an angular, smooth face, high cheekbones, and a bloodless tan to his skin. His mouth was, Declan was loathed to admit, intriguing and sensual—a perfect bow upper lip and a juicy, pink, plump lower with a vertical labret piercing in silver.
Kei frowned, and turned his nose up at the potato crisps, “So it’s true what they say about tight-arsed Scotsmen! Crisps ain’t good enough for a first date. I hope you treat our mutual friend better than this.” Kei quipped.
”He must have told ya! You gotta wine me and dine me. You gotta treat me right or ya get nuffin’!” Kei added with a flirtatious hitch of his pierced brow.
Declan wondered just what kind of incentives Sam used to get Kei to work for him. Sam had informed him that they’d been friends for around five years, but Declan had no clue as to the true nature of their friendship.
“It’s all in the bag.” Declan gave the carrier bag by his feet a nudge and the glass bottles clinked together. Kei peeked inside.
”Ooh, now were talkin’! Classy! That'll get you to… Hmmm, second base.” He said, turning to stare at Declan and wag his brows flirtatiously.
Declan couldn’t help but laugh. The kid was incorrigible. He could imagine Sam and Kei as highly entertaining drinking buddies. Kei removed the empty rucksack from his back and eased the carrier bag containing the champagne and chocolates inside.
“Our mutual friend seems to be quite taken with you, Mr. Scotsman?”
“I should damn-well hope so. After all, he did marry me.”
“I heard. I guess congratulations are in order.” But from the dry tone, Kei didn’t sound like he meant it.
“Cheers.”
Kei turned to Declan and said, “Look. I need you to understand something before we go any further.” Declan’s hackles rose. Who the hell did this pup think he was?
“If you hurt our mutual friend your life won’t be worth living. I can ruin your reputation at the touch of a button. I can cancel your credit cards, drain your bank account, and get your passport flagged at all airports worldwide. You’d never be able to escape from me.”
Christ! This was all Declan needed. To the left, he had threats from James, and to the right, threats from Kei. And if he ever, God forbid, did finish with Sam, Eileen Ramsay would string her son up by his bawsack.
“Understood. Our mutual friend is my top priority. Always. You have nothing to worry about.” Declan reassured.
“Good. I’ll send you a message you later with directions.” With that, Kei hitched the rucksack onto his back, tossed the skateboard deck down onto the tarmac and sped away through the park.
****
CHAPTER 15
INTEL
Declan stood in the lounge of the minimalist box apartment looking out over the high-rise view of a grey and miserable autumnal London day. He gripped a mug of strong coffee and like most days without Sam, he had returned to his default somber, introspective mood.
On the dining table, Declan’s phone jumped to life and the once silent apartment filled with eerie music. Declan couldn’t help but let a smile crack his dour mask. Sam had relayed that Kei Nakamoto was a Harry Potter super-fan so he’d set Kei’s personal ringtone to the movie theme music. Declan palmed the phone and saw that the text message from Kei contained an address link and time. Declan clicked on the link and a Google map pinpointed the meeting place. This rendezvous would certainly motivate him to get his head on straight. Kei fascinated him and Declan was intrigued to discover just how skilled he really was.
****
Following Kei’s instructions to the letter, Declan arrived on the corner of Redburn Street and Flood Street at 7 p.m. He stood beside the lamp post and sent Kei a text message containing one word.
‘Here’.
The street light illuminated a rundown, but once splendid Georgian terraced house surrounded by weathered construction hoarding printed with an architectural illustration of what the house behind would look like once the reconstruction was complete. As he waited in the chilly autumnal evening, Declan pondered about the house. He had let many similar houses for A.L.L. With a full contemporary refurbishment, properties in this particular area were worth a king’s ransom. This refurbishment was unfinished, and the weather buffeted state of the hoarding showed no work had been carried out on the property in quite a while. Declan wondered if the owner had run out of money part-way through the restoration project because he could think of no other reason to leave such a lovely house in this state of limbo.
“Pssst…”
Declan looked left and saw a once hidden doorway appear in the builders hoarding and the silhouette of a slight man beckoning him. Curious, Declan entered through the doorway. Kei closed the door and locked it with several deadbolts.
“Watch your step, the pathway’s a bit of a deathtrap in the dark,” Kei warned with eerie mischief to his voice. Then, with an impish chuckle, Kei took off. Having lived at the address for eighteen months he instinctively knew where to place his feet on the uneven ground.
Declan grimaced. The tall construction hoarding blocked the street lights so the garden was virtually pitch black. The outline of the decaying Georgian house loomed-large but no light leaked from behind drapes. Declan moved off and within a few unsure footfalls he juddered down a garden step.
“Shite!” He cursed, reaching out and gripping an overgrown branch before he fell.
“Jesus, Kei! Wha’ the hell are ye playin’ at?” Declan complained in a pained whisper. He’d skinned his palm on the rough bark and wanted to wring the little shit’s neck!
“Would it help if I put a light on?” Kei drawled playfully. Declan gritted his teeth at hearing more impish laughter from Kei echo in the air, and that there was a light he could switch on to illuminate the garden. Declan was not impressed.
Sam denied that there was anything romantic between him and Kei, but when he’d met the young hacker that first time Declan had gotten the sneaking suspicion that Kei had feelings for Sam and was jealous that Sam was well and truly spoken for. Now Declan was convinced that Kei was a thwarted ex-lover—and that the kid was trying to make him break his God-damn neck.
Kei unlocked the porch door and flicked a switch. The sudden brightness of a security light blinded Declan for a second. He closed his eyes and then opened them. His vision adjusted and he found his focus. The uneven pathway led through an overgrown garden that must have once looked as splendid as the house itself at the turn of the century, but bricks, broken pathways and sharp wrought Iron border fencing made it quite the deathtrap.
“Yer no as smart as ye think, sonny!” Declan declared grimly as he picked his way down the rubble path toward the steps leading to the basement porch.
“You do realize that if I got injured on yer watch Sam would have yer guts fer garters. In fact, if I break as much as a nail in yer presence, he’ll want te know how. So, let’s cut the crap, okay?”
Kei stood blocking the porch door, his arms folded and mouth pursed in a petulant pout; his eyes were shrewd and feral.
“I had him first.” Kei spat.
“Is tha’ right?” Declan couldn’t disguise the amusement in his voice. He stood to his full height towering over Kei and studied the boy. Declan had to admire Kei’s fierceness and understood all-too-well his apparent obsession with Sam. Sam was unique—the kind of treasure who could drive any man to obsession—some for good, others for ill.
“Well, that was quite some lucky break. Good fer you.” Declan said drolly. “But the thing is, Sam chose me—” Kei grimaced at hearing the truth of those words. “—and no matter what childish pranks ye play, Sam will always choose me. No one will come between us. NO ONE. So please, I understand you’re his friend an’ he cares a great deal for ye. But don’t be a dick. He wants you to be part of our inner circle. That’s a privilege. But if tha’s not enough fer you and yer determined te a be a jealous little gobshite I can source mah Intel elsewhere.” Declan turned to leave.
“Wait. Shit… shit…shit.” Kei cursed to himself rather than at Declan, “Look. I’m sorry, okay. Sam’s just… special to me.” He admitted in a near childlike voice.
“Sam is a very special man.” Declan agreed.
“I never knew anything about you—not a thing. I turn my back and suddenly Sam’s married. It was a shock. I didn’t even think he was a relationship kinda guy or—” The disappointment in Kei’s tone was all too evident. It appeared that Kei believed he’d been in with a shot with Sam and missed the boat.
“Please forgive me—I shouldn’t have done that—make you walk through my crappy garden in the dark. Don’t tell Sam.” He pleaded, sounding thoroughly ashamed.
Declan decided he would not give Kei the satisfaction of his forgiveness quite yet, and he’d make no promises to keep anything from Sam either.
“Do you have information for me?”
“I do, I do. Please. You’d better come in.”
Kei entered the small porch first, and Declan paused on the threshold before entering, hoping there wasn’t a booby trap bucket of paint, or something more deadly waiting for him inside the house. He was beckoned inside and directed to remove his trainers and wear navy rubber-soled, anti-static slippers. Declan did as he was told. The back door to the premises was unlocked and when they were inside the main house, everything was painstakingly relocked as if Kei expected to be raided at any moment.
Declan followed Kei up a narrow white hallway, past several closed doors and then upstairs, bypassing a surprising stylishly designed lounge. Declan expected a dingy old house so was impressed by the clean, classy interior design when the exterior made the house appear derelict. It was an ingenious cover.
They continued up a second staircase to a darkened room. Colored lights twinkled and seeing them ramped up Declan’s curiosity. When Kei flicked several switches, a few things happened simultaneously—the overhead lights came on and an array of screens leaped to life. Declan emitted a gasp of surprise. It appeared they’d just taken the stairway to hacker heaven. The hairs on the back of Declan’s neck all stood up with the sudden charge of electricity in the air.
“The place already looks suspicious, what with covered windows and high security,” Kei explained.
“My servers use a lot of juice. I have to mask the power output so the police copters don’t pick up the heat signature when they’re scanning for Weed farms.”
Declan had seen how easy it was to find a hydroponics Cannabis farm via infrared cameras as growing the illegal crop needed vast amounts of electricity for ventilation and heating.
An array of TV screen’s flickered to life against the wall to Declan’s left displaying the feeds from multiple; muted Cable channels. Three workstations were set up to the right, one with two laptops, and another with a desktop computer and a three-screen set-up. But amidst the mind-boggling array of things to look at Declan was mostly taken aback by Kei’s unique wallpaper. Every spare inch of wall space was plastered with pages from Japanese hardcore Yaoi magazines creating a layer of sketched and painted nubile young men in erotic positions. Declan’s gaze traced the art and his balls twitched with a dart of arousal. He chided his horny body—this was not the time or the place!
In the center of the large room was an unmade double futon loaded with cloudlike black duvet and pillows. Declan eyed the bed and, inspired by the wallpaper, wondered if Kei and Sam had made love there. Images of Sam entwined with this willowy Japanese boy sprang to mind—at once arousing and infuriating him. Declan did not want to picture his husband with another man. No siree!
“Take a seat, Agent Ramsay.” Kei invited stiffly as he sat in one of the two ergonomically designed black leather chairs and pulled himself closer to the computer. He used a thumb scanner pad and then password combination to access the desktop. Declan sat beside him and stared at the flickering screen.
The first document Kei pulled up was Becky’s personal student records from Imperial.
“Becky Saunders, twenty, hails from Bristol. She’s the only child of Nathan and Maureen Saunders. Father’s an electrician, and her mother’s a Science teacher. The girl is currently a second-year student in Earth Sciences at ICL.” He read out as he browsed the records,
