Nssm 200: The Milieu Derivative

By Malcolm Franks

The Red Dragon stirs. Is it a threat to global stability, or just to the West? The world holds its breath, watches, and waits.
Such grand matters of State don’t concern Matt Durham. He has moved into a new house by the coast on Vancouver Island with his partner Grace. Life is comfortable. Life is good. It doesn’t get any better than this.
That is until he plucked a woman’s body from the sea. Now it would begin. The discovery prompts a desperate call for help. Not just any call but one from an old foe, now wishing to befriend him for mutually beneficial reasons. Grace told him to ignore the caller. The same person had not so long ago tried to have Matt killed; except there is a life at stake, the life of someone important to him. Compelled to accept the invitation and believing the task at hand to be relatively uncomplicated he all too soon grasps the gravity of the situation and realises he should have known better. Nothing about this past adversary is ever straightforward.
Matt is unwittingly plunged into a dark world he doesn’t understand, one of political intrigue and manipulation, bringing him into contact with the widow of a man he killed, a woman he must now deceive. The further he delves, the muddier the waters become and he begins to understand his adversary has involved him in a plot far bigger than he could have imagined, a conspiracy which leads to the heart of the US Administration.
Now he must find a way out. But to succeed he must compromise both himself and his ideals by making alliances with people he cannot trust, by deceiving the innocent, and by testing the loyalties of those closest. Matt must call upon all his reserves of strength and courage relying on nothing other than his wit and cunning.
He must risk everything to get to the truth; to reach the end game.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Malcolm Franks
• Release date: Aug 11, 2012
• ISBN: 9780956694423

Malcolm Franks

I always wanted to write books, since I first read The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - tells you a lot about my age group - but never quite got round to it until later in life. I could blame parental pressure to get a job, a wife to do what needed to be done around the house, or the chidren for being so demanding. The truth is - a lack of confidence that I could write something people would want to read. Hey presto! My first book, The Milieu Principle, currently sits top of the pile on Kindle for downloaded political thrillers while my second, Milieu Dawn, sits third. Now there's something I didn't expect. The third of the trilogy, NSSM 2000, should be on kindle soon. I can only hope I haven't lost my touch already.

Book preview

Chapter One

Maelstrom

Pillows of black cloud were beginning to knit together on the not too distant horizon. Confirmation, if any was needed, that the predicted second storm front would soon arrive. Light was fading too, all the ingredients to a float plane pilot’s worst nightmare; howling wind, driving rain, and darkness. A bead of rainwater from the earlier storm caught his eye, clinging for dear life to the side window as the air flow did its best to tear it away. Another drop near the top of the pane surrendered its grip and snaked down the glass pane, slowly meandering to the inevitable collision. He watched as the two tears of the sky collided, separating both from the comparative safety of the window.

See anything, Matt? asked a voice.

No, he answered. Before long this will be like looking for a granny in a pothole with a faulty flashlight.

You go looking for grannies in potholes often then?

The likening was not entirely lost on his friend. Once the dark arrived all they’d have to illuminate the surface below would be the intermittent blades of searing hot light from the lightning sure to accompany the heavy storm.

How long has she been in the water now? he asked.

Coming up to an hour, said his friend.

The odds were not good, growing worse by the second.

I’ll call it in, he said, picking up the radio mike. See if we can find out what everybody else is doing.

His companion nodded and continued the search.

Hot potato, hot potato, this is bad dog. What’s happening Donna? he asked.

Can you not be serious, said the voice on the radio.

True to form, the respondent had no patience for silliness.

Hi, Grace. What are you doing there?

We are here to tell you everyone else has come in.

We? questioned Matt.

Jenna is with me. You’ve been out long enough.

The suggestion made common sense. Conditions were set to deteriorate and pretty soon they would get caught up in a maelstrom.

What does the forecast say?

It will last a while, said Grace.

Maybe if we dropped a little lower, got a bit closer to the surface, suggested his friend.

Matt looked at the back of Will’s thick neck, reminiscent of those exhibited by NASCAR and European Formula One drivers, the muscles developed to withstand the incredible G forces they were subjected to during a race. The neck craned at an uncomfortable angle, as if this could somehow increase the range of Will’s eyesight.

Not sure about that, said Matt. This is a busy shipping lane and visibility is set to worsen.

They’re big enough for us to see them coming.

Being able to see them isn’t the problem, rather the other way round.

His companion jerked round, hazel eyes encased in worry.

You heard Grace. Everyone else has called it a day.

Will’s concern came as something of a surprise. As a once serving member of an elite SAS squad Will was trained to take calculated risks. But he’d also been trained to recognise a lost cause when he saw one, and this bordered on reckless.

We’re this woman’s last shot, said Will.

Matt couldn’t help thinking there was more to the request than his friend was revealing. To go lower in these conditions went against all logic.

If it was Grace down there, said Will, what would you want the pilot to do?

Matt nodded.

Maybe one last sweep of the area, closer to the surface, and then we’ll call it a day, he said into the radio.

Matt, it’s too risky. Come in until the storm passes, said the radio. Jenna doesn’t want to go to church for a funeral.

The two men looked at each other and their faces broke out into broad grins.

End of days, the moment you say I do, said Matt before addressing the radio. She’s running out of time, Grace,

Matt! said Jenna’s urgent voice. Stop playing silly bloody superheroes and get your asses back to Victoria. We’re not sending out rescue parties to save the rescue party. You’re like a pair of overgrown kids.

He looked again at Will.

She is right, he said. There won’t be a rescue party.

I thought you meant about the kid thing.

It’ll only take a few minutes, he said into the radio.

Don’t you dare, Matt Durham, shouted Jenna. I won’t warn you again.

You owe me for this, big time, said Matt to the wide grin of his companion.

The plane started its shuddering descent, accompanied by an onslaught of irate and unfamiliar Germanic dialect. Had he not known Grace better he would have sworn she’d addressed him with a range of colourful obscenities.

Hold tight, said Matt.

They plunged closer to the surface. What was a serene and placid landscape was about to turn into a maelstrom of rage and bitter tempest. There wasn’t much time. He skimmed the crests of the waves, hopping occasionally to avoid suddenly appearing malevolent wash intent on trying to submerge their flimsy craft. Seconds became minutes as the two scoured the surface of the water. Inexplicably the gathering wind chose to drop and the increasingly violent sea unexpectedly quell. A spear of bright light crashed close to their left.

There! said Will. Something white, over there.

Another intermittent flash of light allowed Matt to catch sight of what appeared to be flotsam, attached to something coloured orange, and he reached for the radio.

Found her, he said.

Right, give us the co-ordinates for the Coastguard.

She’ll be dead by then, if she’s not already.

You’ve done enough, said the radio.

His mind was already fixed on the task at hand.

How has she managed to stay afloat this long? asked Matt in incredulity.

The important thing is she has. Let’s get down there.

Matt took the plane in an arc, eyes scanning the surround for any sign of nearby tonnage. Confident there was none he took them down.

Rope, he said, motioning to the back of the plane during the approach. Jenna will kill me if I lose you out here. Once I get close enough, jump in and get her. I’ll haul you both in.

Can it take both our weight?

Don’t know, said Matt. Still want to give it a go?

Yeah, I don’t see why not.

The man had courage, but Matt knew that already. He brought them closer to the surface. Matt heard the roar of a gust of wind burst through the opened door as it picked up again and turned to look at his companion.

You did say you were ace at this flying lark, said Will.

No. I said we were a pair of crazy bastards.

His friend smiled and gripped the sides of the open door as they dropped the final few metres. The floats shuddered at the impact and he reduced power for the approach.

Now, shouted Matt.

He heard the splash before switching off and dived to the open door to watch in trepidation as his friend neared the stricken woman. Hands under her chin Will turned to make his way back, Matt pulling on the rope for all his worth.

She’s alive, shouted his friend.

Between them they got her on board and Will went straight to the limp body. Carefully brushing away her bedraggled hair his eyes widened in recognition of a familiar face.

I’ve got you, he said tenderly.

Eyelids flickered open to reveal brown colouring, dulled by the ordeal, and she tried to smile.

Will, I knew you’d come for me.

Matt searched for a blanket as the young woman fought for life, a brave but futile struggle. With the last reserves draining from her body, she released her breath.

Stay with me, pleaded Will. Stay with me, stay …

Matt watched his friend’s shoulders slump in dismay as he fell back from the corpse.

You knew her? asked Matt.

The shake of the head prevented an instant response.

We were part of the same team, Vega One, he eventually replied.

Was she coming to see you?

Ignoring the question Will threw off the blanket and slid his hands under the loose-fitting blouse to run his fingers over her flesh. Feeling something out of the ordinary he withdrew the hand and started to unbutton the garment.

What are you doing?

Again, Will chose not to answer.

People like Helen Nash don’t fall overboard a passenger ferry for no reason, not under any circumstances.

So that was her name. Moments later Will had uncovered the true cause of death, an area of skin discoloured by sea water harbouring a deep and ugly incision below the ribcage. She had been stabbed before being thrown overboard. Will lowered his head and exhaled, his worst fear confirmed.

Any idea who? asked Matt.

No.

Unable to find any further words of solace Matt returned to the cockpit and picked up the radio.

Matt, what’s happening? asked Grace’s voice.

We were too late, she’s dead. You’d better call the police and ...

He felt his arm gripped by a firm hand and turned to see Will shaking his head.

They’re going to find the wound sooner or later.

I need some time, said Will.

Matt, did you say the police? asked the radio.

No, he replied quickly. Get an ambulance first. I’ll fill you in with the details when we get back.

His companion took a deep breath.

I’m sorry, Will.

Someone will be.

The man was visibly shocked, taken aback by the death of the woman he knew. He had never seen Will shaken like this and wondered if there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

We’re coming in, he said into the radio.

Are you both okay?

Matt looked to his companion.

If you need some time you’ll have to be solid, he said.

His friend nodded in acknowledgement.

We’re fine, said Matt. Be with you soon.

What’s that noise? asked Will.

The approaching light high from the surface caught Matt’s eye long before the drone of powerful engines in the water.

Crap! he yelled.

He rammed his thumb into the start button. The engine made its first attempt to start, cylinders slowly spinning into life at his urgent command. After an interminable number of seconds the engine spat, spluttered and then stopped.

Not good, not good, said Matt irritably.

The vast mass of metal closed on their position, unable to see them sitting on the surface in the ever darkening light, and he pressed the red start button again as panic rose inside.

Spit, spit ...

Another few seconds passed by, another false start.

The only good news in this situation, said Matt, is that I wouldn’t have to face Jenna.

Matt calculated distance and speed as the freighter loomed ever closer. If they bailed out now they might have a glimmer of a chance of not being sucked under with the wreckage. He pushed at the button one last time.

Spit, spit …

Crap, he said.

Chapter Two

Marcie’s Law

The engine fired. He jerked at the throttle and powered them forward, fearing there wasn’t time to evade the cumbersome wall of metal fast approaching. Matt took a deep breath as they scampered over the rising swell. He pulled at the throttle again … and they speared up into the dark.

Heart settling back to an even rhythm he tried to shut out of his mind the narrowness of their close brush with certain death and glanced at Will’s subdued frame. Matt had to admit to being intrigued at the turn of events and thought of asking further questions of his friend. He decided against delving further, for the time being anyway.

The harbour walls were teeming as they pulled alongside the wooden jetty. Matt put this down to the macabre fascination of people with bodies pulled from the sea and assumed word had got around. Then again the degree of interest exhibited by the seething mass suggested it wasn’t just death that pulled the crowds in. It was the fact a body had been found and he just happened to be in the area to discover it. Matt wished they’d landed in secrecy, unnoticed, for wherever a crowd amassed trouble was sure to inevitably follow.

They clambered from the plane. Grace and Jenna were first to arrive backed up by Donna, his office administrator, and the emergency services. They stood in respectful silence while the body was transferred to the waiting ambulance, Will’s eyes unable to maintain contact on the corpse. Most people wouldn’t have noticed. Jenna had. She knew him better.

What’s wrong with Will? asked Grace.

Nothing, he said. Why do you ask?

Because if you tell me I might find out what’s on your mind at the moment, she said.

One of these days you’ll cut yourself.

He would have to be sharper than you.

The rich Guinness eyes offered the smile which warmed him inside, as it always did. Comforting was the nearest word to describe the effect it had on him, perhaps an odd word to use but one which always seemed to fit the bill. He took her hand and squeezed lightly.

A public display of affection, she said. Should I be worried about anything?

His returning half smile did little other than to arouse her curiosity. She was right of course, something did occupy his mind. This woman, Helen Nash, was on her way to the island to meet up with Will. He was sure of it.

One day your luck will desert you, said Grace. I wish you wouldn’t take such risks.

It’s a one off. I promise.

His mind turned back to the dead woman. Nash had been assaulted to prevent her arrival, halt possible contact. Of that he was certain. He saw Jenna tug at her man’s arm and lead them to where Grace and Matt stood.

Does anyone know who the woman is? she asked.

Matt’s eye caught Will’s furtive glance into the distance.

New to town I suspect, probably a tourist, he said. I’ve never seen her before.

Again, his friend remained unusually quiet. Matt studied his watch and decided to change the subject.

I don’t know about you guys but I’m feeling incredibly hungry right now.

We’ll give it a miss, said Will. I need to change out of these, he added, referring to his sodden clothes.

Yes, how come Will had to be the one who had to go into the water? asked Jenna.

Long story, replied Matt.

He reached into his pocket and tossed the keys to the pick-up over to Will.

We’ll get a taxi.

His friend grabbed them appreciatively and ushered Jenna towards the waiting vehicle.

Take the day off tomorrow, said Matt. Probably take that long for you to dry off.

A wisp of a smile appeared, for which Matt was relieved, and he hoped Will’s mood would lighten after a day’s rest. They turned to leave.

Not so fast, Durham, said an instantly recognisable voice to halt them in their tracks.

He looked to Grace and mouthed a mild obscenity, causing her face to break out into a warm smile. Another light squeeze of her hand and he was ready to face the inquisitor.

Officer Danbridge, such a pleasure.

Where do you think you’re going?

Food, he said.

Not until you’ve answered some questions.

What’s to say? We found her, recovered the body from the sea and returned. End of story.

Another shape loomed into view. Matt extended his hand to the blonde haired man and they shook firmly.

How’s it going, Dan? he asked.

Detective Early to you, Durham, said the woman.

What can I say? said Dan Early. Lions were trailing by three, two fifty four to play and it’s second and seven on the forty eight. Then I get the call. I’m pissed, real pissed.

It went to overtime, interrupted Jenna, hastily returning to the scene.

Christ. That makes it worse. I could still be watching.

Enough, snapped Danbridge. Why is it when a dead body turns up on this island you happen to be in the vicinity, Durham?

Some people are unlucky that way.

And some people are hiding secrets.

It was almost worth yanking her pigtail.

Don’t you ever take a day off, he said mockingly.

Not where you’re concerned. I’ll find out what you’re up to one day, Durham, and pin something that will stick.

The urge to yank the tail multiplied.

You know for a pretty girl you’re quite an ugly person, he said.

That’s it, she snapped, producing the cuffs.

The figure of a man stepped between the two.

Why don’t you get off his back? You have no idea what this man has done for …

Will, leave it, interrupted Matt. Marcie and I got off on the wrong foot a long time ago.

He turned his attention to her partner.

We risked our lives to try and rescue this woman, Dan. Isn’t that enough?

The temporary, uneasy, silence did not bode well. Early’s face broke into a subdued smile to lighten the mood.

Go and get your meal, Matt. We’ll talk later if necessary.

Dan!

Leave it, Marcie.

He’s a witness.

To an attempted rescue, that’s as much as we know.

Thanks, said Matt.

The group dispersed, Matt taking Grace by the arm to walk leisurely up the ramped incline towards the town centre while their friends retreated to the pick-up.

I wish you wouldn’t antagonise her so much, said Grace.

I try not to, I really do, sighed Matt.

Try harder next time.

Chapter Three

Planning

Shafts of sun pierced the murky darkness ahead so she knew she was close. There was no sound of angry pursuit. A few more purposeful strides and she would be into the daylight, free from his spell forever. Instead of revelling in euphoria however, there was only guilt. She had loved him as a man, and continued to love him despite the creature he had become. But the only way their love could survive was to become one of them and she didn’t want that; to be forever imprisoned by darkness and confined to the shadows, drinking human blood from its source.

A powerful hand wrapped itself around her ankle, tugging her naked body forcefully backwards. No, her mind screamed, I don’t want to go back. She kicked out with her other foot in a desperate attempt to break free, steadily at first then ever more furiously but the hand would not release its hold. She thought to cry out when he was suddenly upon her, his breath fierce and demanding. Powerful arms circled her trembling frame as the edges of his sharp teeth sank into the flesh of her breast, and she knew. Her surrender was unconditional, complete, and she finally came to realise he was the one. It had always been him …

Jesus Christ, he said, slapping the paperback shut and dropping it to the ground.

What is wrong?

Are you sure this is a best seller?

Of course; the counter assistant said it is the top selling book in North America and personally recommended it.

Christ, the guy must have some serious issues.

It was a she, a young girl, helpful and friendly.

That explains it then, repressed craving for monstrous romance and bestial lust. It’s unnatural.

That is disappointing news.

He chuckled aloud.

What’s yours like?

A tearjerker, said her concentrated face. You wouldn’t enjoy it.

I’m not completely without heart.

Says the man who, by his own admission, has never cried in his life, she retorted.

There’s a first time for everything.

A leopard does not change its spots.

Maybe she was right. He never could connect with the likes of Romeo and Juliet, Gone with the Wind, Wuthering whatever it was called. Deprived of interest he started to run his fingers down the light brown skin of the inside of her arm, loitering over the creased mid-arm bend, a specific zone of her body he had recently discovered to be particularly sensitive. One blink became two then turned into a serious flutter as his fingers deftly probed the area.

I’m reading.

You mean you were reading.

No, I am reading.

The stern tone didn’t so much dampen as pour cold water on his intentions. He considered returning to the dreadful text but decided reading erotic literature was a poor substitute.

How much have you got to read?

I’m only halfway through.

He peered at the voluminous novel in her hand and sighed in disappointment. Sensing his restlessness she dropped the tome to the ground and twisted to wrap an arm across his body and prevent him from leaving.

I thought you were reading.

I don’t want you to get up. You’ll let the cold in.

He adjusted the blanket to ensure she was fully covered and she rested her head on his chest.

Is that better?

Yes, much better.

They lay quietly as he gazed up at the plethora of bright stars peppering the night sky, drawing in the scent of her hair every time he breathed in. Her fingers started to meander around his chest in a chaotic, unscientific pattern.

Why are the people here mostly indifferent towards you?

You mean why do they dislike me?

I didn’t say that.

Jack Carter, he said after a pause.

Wasn’t he the guy who helped you when you first arrived on the island?

Yeah, and died for the privilege. They people think I had something to do with his murder, particularly as Jack decided to leave his estate to me.

You weren’t to know.

Yeah, well it’s not what they think. Why ask me this all of a sudden?

Curious.

Now I come to think of it you’ve been a little thoughtful recently. Is everything okay?

I’m happy, she said, reaching up to kiss him lightly before resuming her position.

Good. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind about the house.

No, she laughed. It is beautiful, a dream home. How many people boast having the sea at the end of their garden?

There’s probably a few along this coast, he quipped.

The muscles of her cheek shaped into what he believed to be a contented smile against his chest.

The house is perfect, she whispered.

This was one of life’s truest pleasures; snuggling up to her on the porch in the late evening, wrapped in a warm blanket with the patio heater on under a starry night.

You and Will were mad to continue the search. Everyone else had given up long before.

That’s why you’re crazy about me.

Why, because you are mad?

Yeah, something like that, he said.

I think you overestimate your attraction.

He smiled. The smooth surface of her bare shoulder felt soft to the strokes of his hand. He liked touching her naked skin. Comforting, that word again.

What would you have done if you didn’t have any rope readily to hand?

Always carry rope, he said.

I didn’t know that.

Always, never know when you’re going to need some.

Why was Will upset earlier?

The subject had been successfully avoided all night. Or so he thought. Trust her to wait for the right moment, time it so he would have to answer.

He knew the woman.

Grace sat up and speared one of her inquisitive looks into his eyes, the one she must have used when interrogating a junior in the boardroom.

The woman you pulled from the sea?

Yes.

Does Jenna know this?

I doubt it. He asked me not to say anything so you can’t talk about it either.

Her searching eyes were building to the next question.

Her name was Helen Nash. Will knew her from the time he worked for Her Majesty’s Government. Whether it was in the armed services or his time with intelligence I don’t know, he didn’t talk about it.

Matt countered the next question in line by placing a finger to her lips.

He didn’t say.

Say what? she mumbled.

Whether he was expecting her or not, he said. There’s something else though.

Lips still pinned by his finger her brow furrowed.

Nash was stabbed before being thrown overboard. I’m guessing it was the knife wound that killed her.

Her lips started to move so he pressed a little firmer.

That’s all I know.

Grace removed his finger.

Why didn’t you tell me this before?

Because it’s none of our business, he said.

Will is an employee. Of course it’s our business.

He’s also my friend.

Probably your only one, she said.

I thought you were my friend.

Not if you’re going to keep secrets from me.

Well I haven’t, have I? Anyway, it’s time you settled back under the blanket, you’re letting the cold in.

She aped his example and lay back to gaze up at the stars.

Do you think Sam and Genevieve ever got it together?

He started to laugh.

You still remember that?

How could I ever forget? It was the night we met. And I almost believed you. Only a man could concoct a ridiculous story of two night stars being given human names and make it sound as though it were true.

He remembered the occasion well. One of those moments in life where a certain situation felt right, seemed natural. He wondered why this memory had surfaced now. Something was on her mind, he could sense it. He at first decided to wait but impatience soon got the better of him.

Do you miss your old life? The stature and influence of the corporate job, the obscenely limitless expenses account?

My old life? she replied. No. But I would like to be able to see papa again. I’ve been thinking about him a lot recently, not that there is anything we can do about it.

It had to be tough on her, not being able to visit her father, and he wished there was some kind of magic wand he could wave to make everything right. Grace had said she was happy but he had the distinct feeling something troubled her. He decided he had to know.

What’s on your mind?

Nothing, she said. It’s nothing.

When a woman says there is nothing on her mind then a man knows it to be untrue. Grace went quiet for a while, as though trapped in deep thought.

Where do you think we’ll be, in five years or so?

An odd and unexpected question, he considered, somewhat out of the blue.

Lying together on the porch of our dream home with nothing other than the stars for company I suspect. Where else? he asked.

She returned to her deep thoughts, and this started to worry him.

Are you … unhappy? Because I thought you just said …

No, she said quickly. I’m not unhappy.

His mild confusion was evidenced in the way his stroking of her shoulder increased in tempo.

You haven’t fallen for the bookshop owner have you? he said dryly.

No, she laughed aloud, reaching to touch her lips against his. It would never be the bookstore owner.

Oh God, don’t tell me it’s the obnoxious builder who sold us this place.

The builder! she exclaimed. The man is at least fifty!

He shrugged.

Well I don’t know; father figure and all that stuff.

You must have such little trust in me, she said, playfully tapping at his chest with a half-clenched fist.

He looked into the dark texture of her eyes. They never ceased to imprison his gaze. His smile evaporated into a more serious expression.

I will always trust you, he said quietly.

What else could he say? She had surrendered everything in life for him. Grace offered another captivating smile before returning her head to his chest, her slender fingers resuming their fidgety toying.

So what is bothering you?

I told you, nothing.

We’ve been together for a few months now and while I don’t pretend to know everything that goes on in that head of yours I can still tell when there’s something on your mind. So come on, spit it out.

After a few more seconds of thought she chose to answer.

Have you given any thought to the future, whether the time is right to sit down and talk about and plan the rest of our lives together?

He felt sure there was meant to be an obvious context to the line of her enquiry but it escaped him, went completely over his head.

What is there to plan? We have a profitable business, a nice home, and a huge mortgage. I don’t see things changing much for quite some time. Just live each day as it comes, so to speak.

Okay, she said after a brief pause. I suppose it can wait for another time. It’s not like planning is one of the stronger aspects of your character.

He wondered what ‘it’ was exactly, and what she meant by planning. All successful businesses relied on careful planning, particularly in relation to monitoring finance. That’s how they could afford to move to the bigger house, five bedrooms and all. The sound of the door bell broke the uneasy peace. She jumped up from underneath the blanket and started for the front door.

I’ll get it, she said.

Gratia … he called.

She stopped, turned sharply, and he saw the unforgiving glare in her eyes.

You are not supposed to call me by my real name.

Put some clothes on before you answer the door.

Her departure was instant.

Gratia, Grace, he mumbled. It’s the same name, just in a different language.

Troubled by the planning debate he gave no thought as to who would call at this time of night until she reappeared.

The police are here to talk to you. Be nice.

Crap, he said, casting aside the blanket to dress as his body temperature tumbled alarmingly. He recognised the faces the moment he stepped into the wood floored space through the patio doors. Mutt and Jeff were back on his case.

Hi, Matt, said detective Early with a broad smile.

He shook the blonde-haired man’s hand and glanced at his partner. Any thoughts of Danbridge’s demeanour improving since the harbour clash were promptly dashed.

Durham, she acknowledged, making no attempt to conceal her distaste. An impromptu silence fell over the room, hostile and discomfiting.

Would you like a coffee? asked Matt, ushering them to the black leather sofa.

No thanks, we’ll stand, said Danbridge. This is still an official enquiry.

What can I do for you?

It’s about the woman’s body recovered earlier, said the male detective.

What about her?

A preliminary examination has revealed the woman had been stabbed, probably before entering the water. This is now a murder enquiry and we wondered if there was anything you could tell us.

After an initial hesitation Matt shook his head.

Why aren’t you surprised? snapped Danbridge.

Stunned into silence is the phrase I think you’re looking for, detective.

Matt considered the phrase disarming. Danbridge clearly didn’t share the same view.

You already knew.

Bit of a leap, even for you Marcie.

The buttons of the woman’s blouse had been fastened out of sequence, as though someone had undone them to examine the body for injuries and then hastily tied them back together again, said the male detective.

Matt hoped he’d managed to maintain enough of a passive expression to conceal his unease.

He’s lying, Dan.

Contrary to what you might believe not everyone will lie to the police under questioning.

They do when they’ve got something to hide. And you’ve got secrets, Durham, lots of them.

His light air of congeniality had been an effort to try and make peace with the female official. Its spectacular failure left him rueing the decision to heed Grace’s advice. Danbridge hadn’t taken to him from the start, and nothing was going to change her mind. His only hope of preventing any further probing was to build on the rapport he’d established with her partner. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Early spoke.

Did you know her, Matt?

No. Before today I’d never seen the woman.

That’s what your friend said, replied the disappointed police officer. Will …

Salmon, said Matt, trying to hide his surprise.

He’s lying to us, Dan, spat Danbridge. I can see it in his eyes. You do know who she is, don’t you?

Matt held her withering stare head on.

She’s a complete stranger to me.

I’m telling you, he’s lying.

Matt? said Early.

I’ve never seen or met her before.

Who is she, Durham? demanded Danbridge.

Let it go, Marcie. The guy doesn’t know.

He knows. He’s just not saying.

After an uncomfortable few seconds Matt decided enough was enough.

Much as I’d like I can’t help you any further with your enquiries.

The male detective touched at his partner’s arm to signal the interview should be closed. Danbridge wasn’t intent on being so accommodating, stepping forward to narrow the gap to Matt to a matter of inches.

I don’t like you, said Danbridge. People without an official history have a dark and murky past. One day I’ll find out who you really are, what your secret is.

The temptation to tug the ponytail resurfaced, an urge swiftly quelled by Grace’s timely intervention.

I think Matt may well be right, she said, approaching to stand supportively by his side. For a pretty woman you are ugly on the inside.

The pointed comment worked, forcing the female detective into retreat. Grace moved in front of him and glared at the two police officials.

Matt and Will risked their lives to rescue this woman and this is how their efforts are to be rewarded.

The blonde haired man nodded and tugged at the sleeve of his partner. She shook her arm impatiently free and returned an indignant glare of her own.

You’ll make a mistake one day, Durham. And when you do I’ll be there, waiting.

Marcie!

Shepherding his partner away from the confrontation he took her by the arm and ushered her towards the exit. The moment she’d stormed out the door the remaining detective turned and offered an apologetic smile.

It’s okay, said Matt. Good luck with your enquiries.

The blonde-haired man started to move, stopping suddenly to ask one more question.

What did your friend mean, about us not knowing …?

He was upset, said Matt. Will was convinced we’d get to the woman in time. I wouldn’t pay any attention to what he said while in that frame of mind.

Looking far from convinced the detective nevertheless chose to leave and Matt escorted him to the door. Another dilemma awaited; did he resume the conversation with Grace on the subject he didn’t understand or gloss over the matter? Matt wasn’t sure what he most preferred, the barbed sniping of a law enforcement officer or trying to fathom out what was on Grace’s mind. Compared to the vagaries of the female psyche public officials represented no challenge at all.

Chapter Four

The Woman with the Green Eyes

He stood quietly at the door, oblivious to the arguing voices of the two departing detectives. Whilst their arrival had proved fortuitous to an extent, providing him with pause for thought, the subject on her mind wasn’t about