CHAPTER 22... is live
The story continues
All previous chapters - CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5 - CHAPTER 6 - Chapter 7 - CHAPTER 8 - CHAPTER 9 - CHAPTER 10 - CHAPTER 11 - CHAPTER 12 - CHAPTER 13 - CHAPTER 14 - CHAPTER 15 - CHAPTER 16 - CHAPTER 17 - CHAPTER 18 - CHAPTER 19 - CHAPTER 20 - CHAPTER 21
Previously on “The bomb in the shed…”; The dynamic at Lakenheath changes when it’s revealed Fitzpatrick stole Bella and is threatening to detonate it, an act that would bring untold destruction to North London
And here we go with CHAPTER 22…
Chapter 22
“It makes no sense,” said Arthur. “Why would Fitzpatrick take the bomb? Why would he threaten to detonate it?” He was beginning to regret asking for the food. The combination of egg and fizz was churning his already twisted guts.
“We were hoping you might shed some light on that,” replied Ramirez. “You worked with him.”
Hardly. Elizabeth had recruited Arthur, not Fitzpatrick who had been nothing but a vague figure of authority hovering in the shadows above him. All of Arthur’s jobs had people like Fitzpatrick. People interested in processes, budgets and the politics of things, not science. Arthur did his best to ignore them and they barely noticed him. When Arthur and Elizabeth started their secret project together, Fitzpatrick began to represent something more sinister, a threat to their relationship and the work they were doing together. Elizabeth suggested Arthur avoid the man completely and he was happy to oblige. She was protecting Arthur for sure, but even he could see it went deeper than that. She didn’t like Fitzpatrick, though she never explained why.
“I really don’t know anything about him,” Arthur replied. “I don’t understand it at all. Do you think he really is a spy?”
The idea of someone Arthur knew being an actual spy felt fantastical. Lying, cheating and stealing. Betraying everyone close to him. How could someone do that? But then again, was everything Arthur had done so different? He’d lied and cheated, in New Mexico and with everything he’d done in the shed since. Was Bella an idea stolen from all the work he’d being doing out there in the desert? Stolen from Elizabeth? He’d betrayed Camilla and his family, in so many ways. And now he’d put so many lives in danger. He’d thought he was doing the right thing. Perhaps Fitzpatrick did too.
“I don’t know what Fitzpatrick is,” replied Ramirez. “He’s behaving more like a terrorist.”
A terrorist? Was that what Fitzpatrick might be? He was a pencil pusher who’d used the army as a way of climbing the academic ranks and become a Professor at MIT. None of this was logical, it didn’t connect. It was Arthur’s engineer brain trying to make sense of things of course, and when it came to matter of politics he knew logic rarely seemed to get a look in.
But still.
“What does he want?” asked Arthur.
Ramirez didn’t look inclined to answer that question. Perhaps it was classified information. But that hadn’t stopped her sharing all kinds of details already. Something serious was clearly going on, and yet Arthur was still the focus of her attention. Which was strange.
“He must want something,” added Arthur.
“Yes, he does,” replied Ramirez. “It’s you, Arthur. He wants you.”
“Me? What do you mean?”
“Fitzpatrick wants us to bring you to him, alone, within the next two hours. Or he’s going to detonate the bomb.”
If everything else Arthur had been told made no sense, this seemed totally crazy.
“Why me?”
“We have no idea about that either,” replied Ramirez. “We hoped you might know.”
“I don’t have the slightest idea.”
Bella was complete. Fitzpatrick didn’t need him.
“We can’t make you go of course...” Ramirez let the sentence hang in the air between them.
Of course they couldn’t make him go. They would be sending him to the burst point of a nuclear explosion. Ground zero of the greatest destructive act in over seventy five years. Who in their right mind would want to go from a place of relative safety to somewhere like that? He should give Ramirez the kill switch and leave them to sort it all out.
“… but before you decide there’s something you need to know,” explained Ramirez. “Fitzpatrick called us from your house.”
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Camilla watched Arthur and Jacob disappear around the corner at the end of the road as they left for Lakenheath. Should she be scared? The truck was missing and no one knowing where the bomb was. But nothing bad was going to happen, surely? They were just being cautious, playing it safe. Which was sensible. But everything would be ok. It had to be.
“What do we do now?” asked Alex.
She looked rather bewildered and lost, they all probably did, standing out there on the driveway. Gemma was gurgling happily and playing with Angela’s necklace. Camilla would have told the child to stop but Angela seemed happy to ignore it. The street was quiet, people away for the weekend or inside enjoying lunch. The smell of Sunday roasts filled the air, reminding Camilla that they’d barely got to touch theirs and it would be cold by now.
“I could call Auntie Helen,” she suggested, determined to get hold of the situation. “I’m sure we can stay there for a while. Nottingham should be more than far enough away.”
“All of us?” asked David.
“I think we should stay together, don’t you?”
Angela didn’t look too sure about that. She shot David one of those looks. Then Gemma started wailing and she got distracted.
“I can drive,” said David. “That way we can all fit into one car.”
A couple of years ago he’d bought a people carrier that had a fold down in the back that made it a seven seater. Camilla was glad he’d got rid of his old sports car, this was a much more sensible choice for a married man with a baby. Alex had teased him relentlessly about how boring he was becoming.
“What about luggage?” Alex was looking at David’s car with distaste.
“We don’t have time to pack,” said Angela. “We need to get away as soon as possible.”
“But I don’t have any clothes, make up, anything,” said Alex.
Camilla caught Angela rolling her eyes. The two young women rarely talked. When they did it could get a bit spikey, even at the best of times.
David, ever the diplomat, tried to keep the peace. “Angela’s right, we need to go. Just to be safe. We can get whatever we need once we get there.”
“Mum?” Alex appealed for support.
It was hard not to be sympathetic. Alex would look rather ridiculous in her Aunt’s floral hand me downs. But now really wasn’t the time to be precious about things.
“Your brother’s right,” Camilla replied. “We should get going as soon as possible. Let’s see what we can find here.” She turned to David and Angela. “We’ll be quick, promise. Half an hour at most.”
They stayed downstairs in the kitchen making some tea while Camilla and Alex went up to throw a few things into a suitcase. While Alex looked through the clothes Camilla went into the bathroom to get some toiletries. She could hear her daughter working her way through the rack: the sound of hanger sliding on the rail ringing out loudly, accompanied by a few sighs and some tutting.
“Really, they’ve no idea,” said Alex. “David doesn’t care what he wears and Angela rotates the same three boring outfits.”
“It’s hardly surprising they want to get going,” replied Camilla from the bathroom. “They have Gemma to think about.”
“I suppose.” Alex didn’t sound too convinced.
“Just a few essentials,” Camilla reminded her. Even with her limited wardrobe Alex could be there all day given half a chance.
Angela and David were right, they should be going as soon as possible. Having tried her best to stay calm Camilla’s anxiety was growing. What if something awful did happen and they get caught up in it all? She was feeling a creeping doom, a little like when she was trapped with Arthur in the pitch dark shed. The claustrophobic feeling that unknown horrors might be unleashed at any moment. Except now she had this feeling in her own home and with the lights on.
Camilla went back into the bedroom, dumped a few bottles on top of the clothes Alex had put in the suitcase and started zipping it up. “You know what, Alex, let’s just go with what we have now. We really should get going.”
“There’s a truck in the driveway.” It was David, calling up from the kitchen.
“A truck?” Camilla shouted back down.
“Yes,” replied David. “And I think there’s someone in the shed.”
That didn’t sound right. Was it that awful man Gibson and his men back? Camilla still bristled at the thought of them standing there in the doorway of her house when she’d arrived home from the US, as if they owned the place. Mind you it could be good news if they’d finally surfaced. Maybe there wasn’t a problem after all.
She called down to David again, “What are they doing?”
There was no answer this time. Maybe he’d gone outside to look.
“David?”
Still no reply.
Then his voice again. “I think your better come down. Both of you.”
His tone had changed. Flat now, rather than puzzled.
Alex was still looking through Camilla’s clothes. She shouted out, “We’re not done yet.”
“Just come down, now.” There was an edge to his tone this time.
Alex looked up.
“I think we should go,” said Camilla.
She led the way, Alex followed.
They found David and Angela sat at the kitchen table, faces ashen. Baby Gemma was in a high chair, waving her arms about and gurgling, strangely oblivious to what was going on around her.
There was a man standing at the back door.
A man older than Camilla, perhaps in his early seventies.
She’d never seen him before, but she has a pretty good idea who he must be. What was it the women in the hotel said? I came here to warn you, Arthur is in danger.
It had to be Fitzpatrick.
And he was pointing a gun at Camilla’s family.
That’s it for Chapter 22, I hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more. Chapter 23 will be out the same time next week, Friday at 4:00pm UK time.
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