3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Hugh
H ugh watched Falcon as he came out of the Minster and waved goodbye to the man in the cassock. Leaving it a few moments, he followed after Falcon as he made his way back to his bookshop.
Letting himself into the maisonette half an hour later, he put his bag of groceries down on the kitchen table after stocking up at Tesco. He was in the process of putting everything away when his phone rang.
It was Swales. Hugh squinted at the phone; it wasn’t often he spoke to the big man himself.
“This is McHughes,” he answered.
“McHughes, Swales here.” Hugh squinted, as if he couldn’t see it was him. “Yes, sir?” he answered.
“How are you proceeding?”
“I’ve been following Falcon Byrde and his brothers for a couple of weeks now, and honestly, I haven’t come across anything that connects them to the attack on the Goodkind family.”
Swales harrumphed and Hugh held the phone away from his ear. He wasn’t impressed.
“Sir?”
“What about this religious man he’s cosying up with?”
“Father McKenzie. From what I can find out he’s attached to the Chapter House at York Minster, though I don’t yet know why he’s meeting with Byrde.”
“Then find out!” The other man growled at him. “I want that man eliminated!
Really, McHughes, do I need to do your job for you?”
Hugh realised Swales had put the phone down on him and he frowned.
Eliminated? That was never his job. What did he really know about the man he called Boss?
He texted Imogen.
Just had the pleasure of a call from Swales.
Her reply was almost immediate.
Lucky for you.
Yeah, wouldn’t exactly call it lucky. What’s his beef?
Meet me from the 5.50pm train and we’ll have dinner.
Imogen?
Just meet me, Hugh.
Okay, I’ll be there.
More confused, Hugh finished putting his groceries away, then returned to the scope he’d set up in the front room. Something strange was definitely going on. He’d seen Falcon go into the shop and through to the back area through his camera. He weighed up the possibility of getting in there to plant more cameras and bugs, but he couldn’t see a way to do it covertly.
He had just over a couple of hours before Imogen arrived. He had time to go for another mooch around the bookshop anyway. He’d practically finished reading the book he’d bought, and wondered if they had anything on the Ninth Legion or the Romans in York. He’d been fascinated by them since he was a child and had read Rosemary Sutcliffe’s Eagle of the Ninth . Maybe they’d have a copy of that?
Making a decision, he grabbed his jacket again and headed out.
Abbie was behind the counter in the bookshop again and she beamed at him. “Hello, you came back!”
“I did!”
She just laughed at him.
“I’m off to look around the history section.” He began moving off, then stopped. “Hey, Abbie?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know if you’ve got a copy of Rosemary Sutcliffe’s Eagle of the Ninth ?” She scrunched up her face as she thought. “Let me just check the inventory.” “It’s okay, Abbie. I can help.” A masculine voice sounded from behind him. Hugh
turned around to see Falcon Byrde eyeing him quizzically. He was entering the shop from the back rooms and looked delicious to Hugh’s eyes. Wearing indigo jeans and a dark blue t-shirt with the shop logo on, he was beautiful. Realising he’d missed what Falcon had asked him, Hugh asked him to repeat it.
“I asked if you’d asked after The Eagle of the Ninth ?”
“Yeah, I remember reading it as a child and thought whilst I was in York for a couple of months, I’d revisit it. Seeing as this is supposed to be the last place they were seen.”
“We don’t have it.” Abbie looked up from her computer. “But we can order it in for you.”
“No, it’s okay, Abbie,” he replied. “It was just a thought.” Hugh was surprised when Falcon next spoke.
“I have a copy you could borrow.” “No, really, it’s okay.”
Falcon grinned and held his hand out. “I’ve not introduced myself properly yet.
I’m Falcon Byrde, I own the shop.”
“Hugh McHughes,” he replied, holding his own hand out. He jumped as he got a slight static shock from the other man.
He looked at Falcon, noticing how his eyes were a warm brown colour and that his whole face lit up when he smiled.
“Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I could borrow your copy.”.
“Sure, no problem. It might take me awhile to dig it out though. Why don’t I bring it to you over dinner tonight?”
Hot damn! Hugh thought. Trust Imogen to get in my way.
“I’d love that, but my friend will be arriving soon and I have to go meet her from the train.”
Falcon looked disappointed and took a slight step back.
“No, really. If Imogen wasn’t coming through especially to meet me, I’d definitely take you up on your offer.”
Falcon gave him that blinding smile again. “Why don’t you give me your email and phone number, then I can let you know when I’ve found it? We can make dinner plans at the same time.”
Hugh agreed. Taking his phone from his pocket, he added Falcon’s details to his contacts. He buzzed a message off to the Falcon’s phone.
“Now you have mine as well.”
They stood there smiling at each other with Abbie giggling near the till. Hugh jumped and looked at the time on his phone: 5.40 pm. Imogen’s train would be in soon. He’d best get a move on.
“I…” he began, reddening slightly at his attraction to the other man. “I really have to be going. She’ll kick me if I’m late.”
Falcon and Abbie laughed.
“We can’t have that. I’ll phone you when I find the book,” said Falcon. “Book?” Hugh asked. Then groaned. “Yes, of course. See you.”
Quickly making his way out of the bookshop, Hugh groaned again. He couldn’t believe what an ass he’d made of himself. Not that he should be getting involved anyway – he was there to do a job, not make friends.
He arrived at the railway station with a small amount of time to spare. Checking which platform Imogen’s train would be coming in on, he saw it had already arrived. No point in going any further. He scoured the crowds for her, then noticed her approaching him. She was dressed in a rich red trouser suit, with the jacket open to show the cream camisole she wore underneath it. The colour really suited her. He reached her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. He’d known Imogen ever since he’d started working for the agency, and they’d become fast friends.
“I’ve not seen this before,” he said, gesturing to her suit. “The colour really suits you.”
She returned his kiss, then took hold of his hand and began walking out of the station.
“Bit of retail therapy. You’ll understand when I explain over dinner. Where are we going?” she asked as they negotiated their way past the evening commuters.
“I thought we’d try The Judge’s Lodging . It’s supposed to have excellent food.”
“And excellent cocktails?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“God, I hope so, I could do with a good cocktail!” “Going to tell me what’s going on, Imogen?”
“Not yet, let’s have dinner first.”
He sighed but turned them down Lendal after they crossed the river. The building was on their left and Hugh knew it had once been used as accommodation for the judges at the Assizes in York and still had many of its original features.
There were plenty of tables available in the courtyard as it was still early. They settled at one and picked up the menus in front of them.
“May I take your drink order?” A young man stood by the side of the table, tablet in hand.
“I’ll have a Cosmopolitan and a glass of water,” Imogen ordered. “And you, sir?”
“Just water for me, please.”
The waiter nodded. He told them he’d be back to take their food orders shortly, then left them to their menus.
“Have you decided?” Imogen asked him, looking up from her menu. “I have, you?”
She nodded and when the waiter returned with their drinks, they put their food order in. Imogen took a grateful sip of her Cosmopolitan and closed her eyes, savouring it.
“That bad?” Hugh asked, only then taking in the dark shadows under her eyes, which hadn’t been there the other day. “What gives, Imogen?”
She sighed, playing with her glass for a time. “Things at the office are spiraling out of control.”
He leaned towards her. “In what way?”
“Swales has not been seen for several days now. Neither in the office nor at his home. His wife said he was in Berlin on business, but there’s no record of him leaving the country. So when you messaged and said he’d spoken directly to you, I knew there was something more to it.”
Hugh frowned. He was a field agent and rarely in the office, so didn’t interact with Swales as much as the office staff did. Imogen was his go between, his research agent and backup.
Imogen drew breath as though she were going to ask him a question. Before she could, the fire alarm began going off. Even though they were sitting outside, the staff told them to evacuate the area. Hugh could barely hear himself think and looked around him as people began muttering and moving away, though they only went as far as the street.
Hugh noticed that there was a plume of smoke emerging from the kitchen to the right of the building and wasn’t surprised when the door opened and several members of staff began spilling out, several of them coughing because of the smoke.
“Please, everyone!” shouted the waiter who had served them. Some of the other staff were asking the small crowd of onlookers to move further away so the fire engines could get in when they arrived. Hugh could already hear their distinctive wail getting closer.
Hugh grabbed Imogen’s hand and began moving with her further away from the hotel. There were more people out in the street now, as residents began swelling the ranks of the patrons from the courtyard. He found himself being pushed and shoved and he lost his hold on Imogen’s hand.
“Not you, Mr McHughes.” The voice was barely recognisable, but Hugh swore it belonged to Swales. “You’re coming with me.”
Hugh went to turn around, then he felt something press into his back. The man behind him was holding a gun. He went very still and allowed himself to be manoeuvred away from the crowd and towards the main road.
“Don’t struggle. I’d hate to have to use a weapon in this crowd.”
Hugh remained silent, cursing all the way as he was thrust in front of the other man. He followed the direction and found himself out on Museum Street. He was pushed towards a Land Rover parked across the entrance to the Museum Gardens. No-one was paying them any attention; they were too busy gawking at the fire engines as they pulled onto Lendal to The Judge’s Lodging . Feeling more hands on him, he realised the man with the gun was not on his own.
“Give us your phone,” a gruff voice insisted.
Hugh tried to resist as one of them reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, throwing it as far as he could into the gardens. Thankfully, he missed hitting any pedestrian.
“Get in the car.”
He again tried to fight against the other men, but he was outnumbered. Suddenly, he felt a blow to his temple, and he pulled back from the pain. Stumbling from the dizziness, he was shoved into the back of the Land Rover. Collapsing on the back seat, he tried to stay awake, but his last thought as he slipped into unconsciousness was that he must have been hit harder than he realised.
Hugh came back to consciousness slowly. His head ached and he could feel blood trickling down his cheek. He knew he was still in the back of the Land Rover, though he couldn’t see out of the windows as he had been shoved unceremoniously onto the floor and a jacket or something thrown over him. He tried not to stir, not wanting to let his captors know he was awake. He had no idea how long he’d been out.
The vehicle slowed and the front driver’s window was lowered. There was a quiet conversation and then they were moving again.
The back door opened, and he was roughly grabbed by one of the goons. “Get out,” he growled at him.
Hugh slowly backed out of the Land Rover, his head throbbing. He felt nauseous and without warning, he turned round and was sick at the man’s feet. The heavyset man wearing a red parka grumbled as he jumped back.
“Bring him,” the other goon, who had a nasty looking scar across his face, commanded. The third man, who he thought was Swales, had already disappeared.
Red parka and Scarface pulled Hugh along between them. Hugh dragged his feet as much as he could, but he couldn’t stop them pulling him into the house they’d stopped at.
The third man, definitely Swales, Hugh recognised him, was waiting for them in the hallway.
“Parkin,” he addressed Scarface, “put him in the attic room.”
Parkin nodded and dragged Hugh off. He tried to protest, but his head was still groggy from having been knocked out and he didn’t have his full strength.
At the top of a narrow flight of stairs, Hugh was roughly shoved into a room, which had a bed, a dressing table and a couple of doors off. He turned round to hear Parkin locking the door behind him. He collapsed onto the bed, groaning. His head was aching, but he still felt a little nauseous. He got off the bed and opened one of the doors, which was just a cupboard. The other door led to a small bathroom.
After being sick in the toilet, he flushed and looked around. There was a small glass standing by the sink. He filled it with water and rinsed his mouth out. Refilling the glass, he returned to the main room to have a look around. He looked out the window, but it didn’t give him any real clues as to where he was. With nothing else going on he laid back on the bed. Wishing he had some pain killers for his head, he closed his eyes and rested. There was nothing he could do until someone came to his room.
Falcon
Falcon felt as though he was floating. He was being carried down a white corridor, his mind roaming free. He watched as the fluorescent lights went by one-by-one overhead. Falcon tried to count them but kept losing where he was up to.
He was dressed in his pyjamas, and the orderly carrying him was being as gentle as he could, but he was still working for the facility. Falcon’s mind felt as though it was detached from the rest of him.
Minutes later, he was deposited fairly tenderly on his bed in the dorm room. His head was still spinning, and it took a few moments before he felt the room stop whirling around him.
He knew it was the drugs, and he hated it. Hated every time they gave him a new experimental drug and put him through the tests. His body felt as though he was being pummeled through the mattress and he slowly tried to sit up.
He felt the bed give and looked over at his little brother Robin. The little boy was missing his legs below his knees. He’d been like that for a few years now. Ever since he’d gotten sepsis in his lower legs after a procedure gone wrong in another experiment.
Robin bounced on his knees on the bed. He was mostly confined to his wheelchair but had learned to use his knees to move around independently. He felt Falcon’s forehead with his little hand and stroked through his hair. Falcon knew he was copying what he himself did when any of them were ill.
Pip sat on the bed next to him. He was next in age to Falcon and helped him look out for the others. He considered them all his brothers and sisters, but none of them were actually related.
Falcon drew in a deep breath and sat up suddenly. He couldn’t remember much of the dream, only that it had been about their time in the facility. He tried not to let the memories and nightmares get to him as much now that he was older. He was just forever glad that they’d escaped from that. All with the help of Francis Byrde. Their saviour had come in and adopted all eight children at the facility, from Falcon who’d been 17 at the time, down to Robin who was only 8 years old.
He felt his heart beating quickly and he gulped in a few more deep breaths. To try and divert his thoughts, he brought up the memory of Hugh McHughes. The man fascinated him. He hadn’t met a man before who attracted him as much as Hugh did.
After getting up and getting himself a drink of water, he settled back in bed and was finally able to fall back to sleep without any more dreams.
The early morning found him in that in-between place, not awake and not asleep.
He sent his mind and senses out until he felt a connection.
He soared high over the city. The whole of York was laid out below him and he followed the winding River Ouse as it ran through the city. His eyes were now a lot sharper than his human ones, as he watched the world below as a lark.
He loved having the freedom to connect with the birds. To follow where they flew and see out of their eyes. He was able to exert a little control over where the bird went, and he directed the lark to swoop down towards the courtyard where he now lived. It was early, but already people were up and out, going about their morning activities. Some going to jobs, others to school. The less fortunate were rolling up the sleeping bags they’d spent the night in – if they were lucky enough to have one – and putting them away ready for another day on the streets of the tourist city.
He directed the lark to dip and dive around the cathedral, enjoying the feeling it transported to him as he lay in his bed. Deans Park and the roads around it were his playground and he spend the next half hour or so just enjoying his connection to the wild bird flying free.
Falcon awoke properly when his mobile phone began ringing. He grinned; it was Francis’s ring tone. Reaching over to his bedside table, he picked it up.
“Hey, Dad. You home?”
“Got in late last night,” Francis Byrde replied. “Wondered if you wanted to get coffee later today?”
“Sounds great. Meet you at the café about 11am?”
After a few more pleasantries, Falcon ended the call and got out of bed. He wanted to see if he could find his copy of The Eagle of the Ninth today; he’d promised Hugh he’d look it out. It would also give him an excuse to see him again. Maybe even invite him out for dinner?
A couple of hours later, he walked through the bookshop on his way out to the café.
“How’s it going, Abbie?” he asked his niece who was sitting at the computer and sending out invoices.
“Great, Uncle Fal. Been a bit quiet today, so I’m catching up on some admin.” “Good girl. I’m off to meet your grandad.”
Abbie whooped. “He’s back?”
“Got in last night. I’ll make sure he comes to visit you before he leaves.”
Abbie grinned. Falcon knew that Francis made a great grandfather and the triplets loved him. He said his goodbyes and headed over to the café.
As he walked in, Francis was being crushed in hug by Ella. She was grinning from ear to ear and only broke off when she spotted Falcon.
“Hey there, Uncle Fal. Usual?”
He nodded and she went off to make their drinks. He greeted his father with a hearty hug. He’d missed him more than he thought he would. Francis returned the hug, then turned and led the way to one of the comfy sofas in the coffee shop.
When their drinks came, they spent a little time chatting about Chyna and how she was settling in at university in Jamaica. Francis thought she’d be very happy there and Fal hoped so as his youngest sister had always wanted to live in and go to university in the Caribbean.
“So…” Francis paused to sip his drink. “How are things going with Father John McKenzie?”
“Hmm,” Fal murmured. “I told you about the research I’ve been doing? I’m not convinced it’s the actual Ninth Legion we’re talking about, and nor is McKenzie. But there is something going on, that’s for sure. Some of those tunnels, including the one we entered, are lethal.” He grimaced, remembering his injured ankle. “They’re strange.
They’re definitely old, though I’m not sure just how old. Some parts of them were really rough and others reminded me more of Flemish brick work. As though they’d been updated at some time.”
“A conundrum,” Francis said. “When do you intend to go again?”
Before he had a chance to answer, there was a commotion at the door. A young blonde-haired woman dressed in a red crumpled trouser suit was trying to get to the front of the queue.
“Excuse me, sorry,” she said as she made her way to where Ella was serving. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “But have you seen Hugh today?”
Ella frowned as she shook her head.
Falcon stood up and walked up to the young woman. “Hugh McHughes?” he asked.
She turned around towards him. He took in her dishevelled stated and wondered what had happened. He ordered her a chamomile tea and took her over to where Francis was sitting.
“Here,” he helped her sit down. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday. Are you the friend he was meeting for dinner?”
She nodded and held out her hand. “Imogen Lovell.” Falcon introduced himself and Francis then sat down. “Can you tell us what happened?
“We went for a drink and dinner at The Judge’s Lodging , after he met me from my
train.”
Falcon nodded at her to continue. Slowly, Imogen told them about the fire alarm
and about losing track of Hugh in the melee. Then she told them how she’d not been able to find him afterwards. He wasn’t at the maisonette he was staying in and there had been no sign of him since then.
“I spent the night there, but didn’t get much sleep. I was hoping he’d turn up there. I’ve no idea what to do now. I went back to the restaurant this morning and no- one even remembered us being there. It was chaos after the fire alarm went off, but no- one recognised my description of the waiter who served us.” She twisted her hands in her lap and shook her head in frustration.
“Hey, hey, it’ll be okay,” Falcon said, attempting to comfort her.
“Something is obviously happening,” Francis mused. “What can you tell us about him?”
Imogen took in a deep breath and looked at the person they’d been sent to spy on. Then, taking a chance, she told them everything she knew about what Hugh was doing in York.