The Iron Lady: The Iron Lady, #1

By Daniel Fellows

Agatha Freeman is like any ordinary grandmother; caring, fun and selfless.  She will do anything for her grandchildren, MIssy and Jacob.  Anything.

 

When Agatha is looking after her grandchildren, a gunman enters their home and demands the most bizarre things about Agatha's past.

 

Thus begins an adventure which propels them to the Berlin, Germany where she must confront an enemy she thought long dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel Fellows
• Release date: May 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393237396

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

JACOB JUMPED UP ON the kitchen counter and reached for the packet of sugar, tearing it open.  He had jumped at the opportunity to help his Grandma bake a cake, which he was more than happy to help demolish after they finished dinner. 

He glanced at his Grandma, who had her back to him, and smiled despite himself.  Gran often looked after Missy and Jacob when their parents went on a business trip. However, if she wasn’t available Jacob’s parents used a babysitting service, hiring a young, but always a well-vetted, woman to look after them for up to a week.  Despite the experience of the babysitters, Jacob had learned long ago that if he played his cards right, he could take advantage and get whatever he wanted: staying up for long hours after his bedtime, extra time on the Xbox, sweets after dinner. But under the watchful eye of their Gran, Jacob did not get away with as many shenanigans. Even with her back turned or when she was in a different part of the house, she always seemed to know what he was up to at any given moment. 

This time his parents had been called away on very short notice.  An important IT consulting job had come up in Paris, France.  Something on the spur of the moment. A job they could not perform remotely from their own home, a function of their job which was becoming more and more necessary and possible as technology became more advanced with each passing year.  They had phoned around, but none of the usual agencies had any available staff for the days and hours his parents needed. 

Carol, Missy’s and Jacob’s mom, had made the phone call to Gran. 

Are you allowed on there, young man? his Grandma said from the fridge, a bottle of milk in her hand, her back still turned to him.

Yep, Jacob said, not missing a beat. This is the best way to cook, Grandma.  I have to get up close and personal with the food.

Liar, liar, Missy piped up from the kitchen table.  His older sister had several biology text books open in front of her, a pen held elegantly in her slender fingers, poised mid-sentence above an exercise book, taking notes.  Mum hates it when he sits on the kitchen bench.  She says that the bench will end up smelling like a public park bench.  All bum and gum.

Grandma’s mouth split in a generous grin, displaying her immaculately white teeth.  A mischievous twinkle in her eye.  She placed the milk on the bench alongside Jacob and pinched his cheek with her thumb and forefinger. 

You’re just like your mother when she was your age.  Full of cheek and lip. She turned to Missy who had resumed reading from her biology textbook, her head bowed low, inches away from the pages.  She got that saying from her dad. Your Poppy used to say that to her when she did the same thing.  At least some things have rubbed off on her.  She leaned against the bench, gently patting Jacob’s right leg as she did so.  We never thought she listened to us.  She was always up to mischief.  Always getting into trouble around the neighborhood.

Missy, who was sixteen, and a mature sixteen at that, glanced up momentarily from the pages she was reading and looked over at her Grandma.  Agatha had a faraway, vacant expression on her face as if she were remembering something from a long time ago.  A smile played at the corner of her mouth, her eyes misted over momentarily.  Jacob and Missy exchanged a quick glance, and she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head, indicating that he shouldn’t interrupt her reverie. 

Suddenly, their Grandma turned to look at Jacob and then Missy.  Where have the years gone?  A smile flashed across her face and she grabbed Jacob’s chin between her thumb and forefinger.  Well then, this cake isn’t going to bake itself, is it?

She grabbed the eggs from the fridge and the self-raising flour from the pantry and placed them on the counter next to Jacob.  Missy watched her Grandma move around the kitchen with amazement.  She was at least sixty years old, but she moved like a younger woman.  She had an agility and dexterity that belied her age.  Missy guessed that she was about five-eight or five-nine, tall for a woman of her age and she seemed well built, not at all fragile.  Some of her friends’ moms would find it a hard time to keep up with her at not even half her Grandma’s age. 

Grandma glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall and smiled.  Your parents should land in about ten minutes.  If the plane is on time.  Grandma was busy pouring ingredients into a bowl, not a measuring cup in sight.  Jacob handing her flour and sugar when she indicated for them.

Agatha wiped the bench as she went along, cleaning up flour, sugar and other ingredients they had used.  If there was one thing Missy had learned from her Grandma, then that was efficient use of time.  Agatha handed Jacob the bowl of batter and a whisk.  He grabbed them eagerly and began to stir.

Jacob stopped whisking the batter, his eyes bugging out of his head.  Can we ring them?  I mean not now but when they land.  I want to FaceTime them.

We’ll have to give them time to disembark and get to their hotel but we’ll call them soon enough. 

Have you been to Paris, Gran?  Jacob asked suddenly.

She nodded after a moment, as if deciding on something, then she said,  A very long time ago.  Your Poppy and I spent a great deal of time in Paris and in Western Europe, mostly for work.  She placed the cap back on the milk and gracefully spun around, opening the fridge and placing the carton back into the door in one fluid motion.  She caught Missy staring at her, a look of amazement clear on her face.  Grandma winked at her and spun back to Jacob who was wiping his finger through the mixture.  She playfully smacked his hand, and he withdrew it with a coy look on his face.  Watch it, young man, or there’ll be nothing left for us after dinner.

What did you do for work?  What took you to Paris?  Missy asked.  Her text books were all but forgotten. She was a lot more interested in learning about her Grandma’s history.  Something she almost never spoke about.  When her Grandma did, it was in passing comments and indecipherable puzzles.

Where’s that, sweetheart?  she asked.

Paris, Gran.  You said that you’ve been there before.

For the longest time Missy didn’t think she would answer, but she grabbed Jacob’s chin with her thumb and forefinger, brought her face close to his and kissed him on the nose.  "J'étais traducteur."

Missy and Jacob both looked at each other in amazement.

What does that mean?  Jacob blurted.

It means I was a translator.  I worked for several companies and for several French government agencies acting as a translator for businessmen and stuffy government officials.  I sat for long hours in boardroom meetings while fat old men with too much money and authority negotiated over land deals and banking matters.  It was pretty boring actually, but it paid quite well and I traveled extensively because of that job.

So you speak fluent French? Jacob asked.

I used to.  French is such a beautiful language, but I haven’t spoken it in years.  I’m a bit rusty but I’m sure I remember most of it.

Oui, oui.  Au contraire,  Jacob said, speaking in a thick French accent, twirling a non-existent mustache on his top lip.

Missy laughed, throwing her head back.  Is that the only French you know?  You sound like a drunk French sailor.

He poked his tongue out at her.  Jacob was only two years younger than Missy but sometimes acted a lot younger than he really was.

Okay, that’s enough out of you two, Grandma said, taking a baking dish from a cupboard and placing it on the countertop next to Jacob.  Anyway, your parents will be plenty busy over the next several hours so I don’t imagine they’ll have too much time to talk.

What are they doing exactly? Missy asked.  She knew that they were IT consultants, but what that entailed exactly she had no idea.

I’m not too sure, sweetheart.  The IT industry was never my forte, but it must be important as they left in quite a hurry.

There was a sharp rap on the front door, three quick successive knocks.  Grandma, who was slowly pouring the freshly made batter, into a baking dish and using a spatula to wipe the side of the bowl to get as much out as possible, glanced over her shoulder to Missy, who had turned back to her study and was furiously writing in her exercise book.

Can you get that, sweetheart?  I don't want to leave this for too long.  I'm afraid if Jacob sits here with the batter he will try to drink it.  Grandma winked at Jacob who was licking his lips.

Yeah sure, Grandma.  She pushed her books out of the way and moved her chair from the table, the chair legs making a sharp scraping noise as she did so.

Can we have this for the main meal, Grandma?  Jacob asked, still grinning widely.

Mmmmm, I don't think your mum would approve if I gave you nothing but cake for dinner.  I think we'll have spaghetti and pasta sauce first and then, if you clean up after yourself, then you might be allowed to have some dessert.  She was wiping the bowl, trying to get the rest of the batter off the sides of the bowl before she gave the bowl to Jacob to lick clean.

Grandma heard the door open, the front door screeching in protest as it opened.  I'll going to spray those hinges before Carol and Brandon get back home, Grandma thought to herself. 

She handed the bowl to Jacob and then helped him get down from the kitchen bench when she heard some footsteps behind her in the living room.

Who was it? she asked without turning around.

Grandma, Missy said.  There was a note in her voice that made her turn around, her auburn colored hair spinning around and whipping the side of her face. 

Normally, Missy was a confident young lady and quick to smile, it was one of the main things she loved about Missy. Her penchant in finding the funny side of almost anything. But the expression etched in her face now was of pure terror. Her normally lustrous hazel eyes had misted over and a single tear was teetering under her eyelash. Missy’s lips quivered and her entire frame, normally vibrant and so full of life, was withdrawn as she hugged herself.  Her shoulders hunched.

Agatha stopped in her tracks.

The second thing she saw was the gun pointing at Missy’s neck. The threaded muzzle tapping her gently, but menacingly, along the curve of her neck.

The man holding the gun was a few inches off six foot, slim built and clean shaven.  He was grinning widely, but the expression in his eyes showed anything but mirth.  He was wearing a nondescript tee-shirt and jeans; he wore a Laker’s cap that was slightly askew on his head.  His free hand was holding Missy by her shoulder, the gun’s nozzle almost caressing her neck.  The man positioned Missy in between Agatha and himself, stopping about five feet from the startled woman. 

Hello, Agatha, the man said through the grin, still plastered over his face.

She said nothing, her lips sealed shut as she fought to control her hammering heart

I have been looking forward to this for a long time. He waved the Ruger to the left, indicating that Agatha should move to the lounge. Please, sit. We have a few things to discuss.

CHAPTER TWO

AGATHA AND THE MAN in the Laker’s cap stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.  Her eyes darted around, scanning the man’s movements, his attire, the gun in his hand and the way he held onto her granddaughter.  Agatha could tell Missy was scared.  Beyond scared, she was terrified.  A trickle of sweat dropped from her brow and her bottom lip trembled as she struggled to keep control of her composure.  Missy clenched her hands at her sides in tight little fists.  Her entire body was rigid with fear.

The man was relaxed.  Like he had done this many times before.  A small smile played at the edges of his mouth. 

Agatha, the man said, after a while.

His voice was soft, almost serene, effeminate.  Despite this, she knew she had to be very weary of him.  She had to play her cards right.

She kept her silence.

You look older in the photos.  The years have not been unkind to you.

Agatha's heart beat a little faster, but she struggled to keep control of herself.

I have wanted to meet you for so long, Agatha.  Some stories I have heard of you.....surely they cannot all be true.  He licked his lips, and the smile became a little more adventurous. 

Let her go.

Not yet, he replied.  "We still