Jeremy and I were out the door a few minutes before six the next morning. While we weren’t quite there when Gabe unlocked the door, we were pretty close. There was only one other client in the place, already working on his warmups. I got Jeremy signed up for the same monthly membership I’d enrolled in for myself.
After the same tour that I’d gotten the day before, Tiny and I got changed in our respective locker rooms.
“Today we’re going to evaluate your fitness and technique levels,” I told him. “No, I’m not going to wear you down to nothing, don’t worry about that. We’re just going to work hard enough for me to see what direction we need to take your training. This is really important, Jeremy- tell me if anything at all strains your injuries. I’ll only be able to tailor your workout properly if you’re honest about what hurts and what’s O.K., got it? This is about helping your recovery, not setting it back. I’m serious about this,” I said while he was warming up on an exercise bike.
“Yeah, got it,” he said, starting to breathe heavily.
“When we work on fighting technique, I’m not going to hit you at all. You’re not to spar or get hit until I am one hundred per cent certain it won’t do more damage. Until you’re all healed up we’ll work on your strikes, that’s it.”
“Good to hear,” Jeremy agreed with what little breath he could spare.
‘Lots of cardio,’ I mentally noted as I watched the big man huff and puff.
He did a lot better on weights, which I’d expected. After all, he was a big, strong guy and Luisa had mentioned that he was lifting weights in the home gym in Manhattan twice a day.
His strength was disproportional, though. He hadn’t been prioritizing core strength so much as upper body work, so while he could bench press or curl an amazing amount, his squats weren’t that impressive. As it turns out, sit-ups were very uncomfortable for him, thanks to multiple stab wounds in the belly, so we bypassed those for the time being.
After weights we worked on mobility, since he was very weak in that department. Jeremy clearly needed a workout plan that built on the basic fundamentals for a while, but that was fine. This was exactly the kind of thing we were here to discover.
Even though he was definitely flagging by this time, I had him work on basic boxing moves. He wasn’t flexible enough for any kicks, and nobody was ever going to try to take a man as big as him to the ground, right?
“Let’s put that upper-body strength to good use,” I told him as I coached him on following through with his punches.
When he’d finally had enough, I told him to walk for half an hour on the treadmill. “When you’re tired, that’s when you need to step up,” I told him. “And working yourself hard is how gains happen.”
“We’re going back to the apartment after I’m done?” he asked hopefully.
“You will. Go back home, have a good breakfast, and take a hot bath. Recovery is when you build strength and fitness. I still have to get my own workout in,” I told him. “I’ll be home in time for lunch.”
“I watched you work with that guy,” Gabe said when I clocked out for the morning. “He’s strong, but doesn’t know anything about boxing. I found it odd that you taught him boxing moves- you said you fight mixed.”
“He’s strong, but it’s body builder strength, not weight lifter strength. He needs to back up and focus on his core for a while. That, and his range of motion work. I figure boxing’ll suit him best, and is the right way to start. I’m going to get him in here five days a week for now. Three days on strength and flexibility, two days of cardio and your boxing classes,” I said.
“I overheard something about his recovery- he’s the guy from the video, too, isn’t he?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “He almost got killed. He took quite a few stab wounds. He tells me he’s almost back up to full strength, but I really, really don’t want him to tear anything open. He seemed fine with most everything we did today, but I don’t want him to take any serious punches for a while.”
“That’s hard as nails,” Gabe said, shaking his head admiringly.
Telling Emmy that I had another meeting, I slipped out of the apartment that afternoon, taking a taxi to a somewhat upscale chain kebab place by Charing Cross Road.
After placing my order for, oddly enough, a doner quesadilla (more out of morbid curiosity than anything else), I took a seat across from Roger Bridger.
“Good to see you again,” the colonel said.
“And you, too,” I agreed, taking a sip from my Coke.
“I have some things for you,” he said, slipping me a manila envelope.
“Excellent,” I said, slipping the envelope into my bag.
“And here’s the number of a driving instructor who may well suit your needs perfectly,” he said, handing me a business card. “He’s expecting your call. He’ll know what it is you need.”
“Is he one of yours, or an independent?” I asked, looking the card over.
“Yes,” Roger replied with a smile. “He’s independent, but we work with him on a regular basis. He’s the top evasive driving instructor in the UK.”
“Perfect. Thanks for that,” I said, tucking the card in my jacket pocket.
After the waiter left my food (which looked nothing like any quesadilla I’d ever had in my life), Roger asked, “The motorcycle- that was a clever trick. Was the driver one of your men?”
“Nope,” I admitted, poking dubiously at the ‘quesadilla’. “As I mentioned, this isn’t my territory. I’m not allowed to flex much muscle here. That was my father-in-law’s crew.”
“Mr De Lascaux, correct? You did mention he is the king of the Night Children here in the UK. How- and forgive me if I’m asking too much- how much power or influence does he really have?”
“More than you might think,” I said. “In the interest of full disclosure, I met with him after you and I met the other day, and we discussed all that you and I had talked about as it relates to him. I’m here by his good graces, and we work closely together.”
“How closely?” Roger asked, amazed again at what I was revealing to him.
“Hey, Georges!” I called over to the man reading his newspaper a few tables away. “Could you come over here for a minute?”
The guy set the paper down and came over to stand by our table, a puzzled look on his face.
“Georges,” I said, “How closely do I work with your boss?”
“He has told us to treat you as if you were his own daughter,” the man said, his French accent slight, but noticeable.
“Right,” I agreed. “Georges, humor me. Where has the good colonel been today?”
“He left his flat at eight thirty. He had breakfast with a blonde man with a mustache. The blonde man complained about his wife, who might be the colonel’s sister, judging by their conversation. The colonel then went to his office. He stayed there until it was time to leave for this meeting,” Georges said.
“How did he get here from his office?”
“A London cab. He flagged one down as it passed, rather than taking the cab parked at the curb near the office.”
“Yesterday, did he have men following us?”
“There were four men following you and Queen Emmy yesterday. Two of them are known as reporters for the tabloids, and the other two were professionals. We can’t be certain they were working for Colonel Bridger, but the two were working together, and they smelled English.” Georges said.
“They smelled English?” Roger asked, trying to process what was happening. “How close did you get?”
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“Close enough to wear Mr Kendall and Mr Lamb like a jacket,” Georges said.
“How do you know their names?” Roger demanded.
“Their identification,” Georges said, dropping two wallets on the table.
“Thank you very much, Georges,” I said. “I think we can stop playing these games now. Please let my father-in-law know that you and your team did everything I asked for.”
“It has been a pleasure,” Georges said, before collecting his coat and leaving the restaurant.
“Before you grab the restaurant’s CCTV footage to get pictures of Georges there, you should know that you will never see that man again. You may see Georges, but you’d never recognize him,” I warned.
“Well, that leaves me quite flat-footed,” Roger admitted. “My men yesterday told me of the reporters, but they never realized that they were being followed as well. They certainly never mentioned having had their pockets picked.”
“Yesterday was bait fishing,” I said. “We were about as ostentatious as possible, making it really easy to follow us, and honestly, providing enough distraction for your men to not look in their rear-view mirrors.”
“I do think you have successfully made your point, though,” Roger said with a wry grin.
“Having us followed was easy for you, since this is London, after all. It worked the same for my father-in-law. This is his home turf just the same as it is yours, so all the necessary assets are already in place. Me? I couldn’t manage it here. New York? Los Angeles? Sure, but not here. Not yet, anyhow,” I said.
“You’re implying that you will be able to do so soon?” Roger asked.
“I guess that depends on what you mean by ‘soon’,” I said with a shrug. “But yes, before too long. I’m working on building that capability.”
“Remarkable,” Roger said, leaning back. After a moment, he leaned forward again. “How concerned should I be?” he asked point blank.
“Really, not at all,” I answered. “I can’t foresee a situation in which your goals and mine might conflict. I want the best for my people, so this is only about security for my nation. Given that, I’m perfectly willing to work with you as long as it isn’t contrary to that basic principle. The same goes for my father-in-law. His business and yours are very unlikely to come in conflict.”
“I see…” Roger said. We ate in thoughtful silence for a few minutes before Colonel Bridger finally said, “You have not turned out to be what I’d expected at all.”
“I’m curious to hear what you did expect,” I said. “Feel free to tell me. I promise I won’t be offended.”
“When Harry introduced us at the Downfall party, my first reaction was that you had the- pardon the expression- the aura of a killer. I’ve worked with many very dangerous men over the years, and after a while you learn to be able to identify them by sight. The way they move, the way they observe their surroundings, and the look in their eyes. You were having a pleasant chat with Harry, but your eyes were constantly evaluating the crowd. This caught my attention, so I did some digging the next day. Of course I found your family history and that you come from a long line of… specialist military men, which in itself is fascinating. Then, the police reports. Most interestingly, the notes the interviewing officers left, saying that you seemed completely unperturbed by the violence that had just happened. Violence that you, in fact, had perpetrated. The detective in New York specifically said that you seemed to exhibit some signs of psychopathy in your utter lack of remorse.”
“I’m listening,” I said, abandoning the so-called quesadilla.
“That analysis didn’t mesh with my own evaluation, which, admittedly, was from one conversation at one social occasion. Then, when you came to meet me at my club, our discussion led me to another conclusion- that, despite your protests, you were clearly the product of someone’s high-level program. The problem with that idea was- and still is- that you simply don’t play the game correctly.” Holding up his hand to stop any protest I might have. “Then with the attack in Atlanta caught on video… Our teams analyzed that encounter to the Nth degree, and came to certain conclusions. First off, that you’re terrifying. The second, though, was what we found interesting. You were ambushed, despite having Grant Henry in your employ. He’s highly regarded in the personal defense field. This indicates that the ambushers knew what they were doing, and yet… they were only armed with knives. Also, and this is very unusual, the attack was carried out in complete silence. None of the attackers ever uttered a word in the videos. One of our analysts suggested that they attackers might be Night Children, but the coroner’s reports all show that the attackers had normal skin color under their makeup disguises.”
“Here’s another freebie for you,” I told him, interrupting his monologue. “When Night Children die, the black fades away from our skin. Within a couple of hours we look like any other dead person.”
“Seriously?” Roger asked, his eyebrows raised.
“Dead serious,” I said, earning me a chuckle.
“That would explain a lot,” Roger admitted.
“It’s part of how we’ve stayed hidden for so long,” I said.
“Then the Atlanta attackers really were Night Children?”
“They really were,” I confirmed.
“Sent by this Ahmet Asker character?”
“Sort of,” I said. “He wasn’t the organizer of the attack, but he did pay to have it done.”
“Who did organize it?” Roger asked.
“They don’t matter anymore,” I said, waving it away. “They’ve been dealt with.”
“I see…” Roger said in a tone that made me understand that he understood.
“So,” I said. “Let’s get down to business. I’m perfectly willing to help you when I can with what I can, if I can expect the same from you. There is some information I can’t share, but chances are if you have a question about Night Children I’d be happy to answer.”
“Please do me the professional courtesy of informing me of any operations you might conduct on our soil,” Roger said drily.
“I don’t expect for that to happen. Not my territory, remember? If I need something done over here I’ll ask dear old dad-in-law to take care of it for me. But if it’s anything that might be of interest to you, I’ll let you know in advance.”
“Fair enough,” Roger grumbled.
Changing the subject, I asked, “How about your combat instructor pal? I thought he’d be attending this meeting.”
“Yes, sorry. He got called away at the last minute. He really does want to meet you, though,” Roger said.
“He’ll have plenty of time,” I said. “We’ve decided to stay here in London for a few more weeks, until Emmy has to go back to Los Angeles to do some recording.”
“That will give you time for driving lessons as well,” Roger said. “Do give Mr Clifton a call.”
“I will,” I said. “Feel free to call me any time,” I said. “I’d like to think we can manage a good working relationship.”
“Yes, as do I,” Roger replied as we rose from our seats and shook hands goodbye.
I called the number on the business card on my ride back to the hotel, and it was answered nearly at once.
“My name is Leah Farmer. I was given this number by Colonel Roger Bridger- he said that Mr Clifton is the best driving instructor around,” I told the woman who answered the phone.
“Well, he was certainly correct about that!” the woman said, and I could hear the hint of a laugh in her voice. “Did the colonel explain Mr Clifton’s teaching program?”
I spent the rest of the ride discussing times and rates, before we settled on three four-hour blocks the following week. I told her that until I was comfortable driving on the left side of the road I didn’t want to risk my own car, but she informed me that I’d have to drive my own car, even to the very first session.
Pondering driving around London as I keyed in the code for the penthouse elevator, I was surprised to be joined by a woman in her late thirties and her teenaged daughter.
“You must be Leah Farmer,” the woman said, a pleasant smile on her face. “My father told me that you’d bought the other penthouse.”
“You must be Harry’s daughter- and granddaughter,” I said, seeing a bit of a family resemblance.
“My name is Maggie- Maggie Redstone, and this is Eileen. Say hello to our new neighbor, Eileen,” she said, giving her daughter a nudge.
“Are you really married to Emmy Lascaux?” the girl asked as we entered the elevator together.
“I really am. Are you really an equestrian?” I asked, going off the outfit she had on.
“She does show jumping,” Maggie supplied.
“My horse is named Dashiell,” Eileen added.
“I knew a girl in school that did barrel racing, but that’s about as much as I know of horse events,” I admitted.
“Barrel racing is an American rodeo event, right?” the girl asked.
“From how it was explained to me, it’s usually a sport performed by smaller girls and women on smaller horses, since it’s all about fast changes in direction,” I confirmed.
“You’re from California? That’s what my father said,” Maggie said after the pause grew a bit long.
“We live mainly in Los Angeles,” I confirmed. “Hey, I told your dad that we’re going to have a housewarming party sometime soon. You guys are invited, of course.”
“Will Emmy be there?” Eileen asked, finally perking up.
“Of course,” I said, just as the elevator door opened to let us out onto the shared hallway. “We’d love to have you over sometime sooner, too, on a less formal occasion. We’ll be in town for a few more weeks, so let us know when we could get together for dinner.”
“That would be lovely!” Maggie said. “I’ll ask my husband about his schedule.”
“Perfect,” I said. “It was great finally meeting you two.”
“And you as well,” Maggie replied.
When I mentioned to Emmy that night that I’d met the neighbors and invited them to come over for dinner sometime soon, she was quite pleased. “It will be nice to have guests,” Emmy said.
“Yeah, but the Redstones might be about the only people we could have over that wouldn’t be impressed by the view,” I said, indicating the giant windows looking out over London.
“No, I would guess not,” Emmy agreed, “but I would like to show off what Angela and Simon and William did with the interior. They managed to perform a miracle here.”
“They certainly did,” I agreed.
Since it was clear that night, if quite cold, Emmy talked me into having our nightly soak in the hot tub on the deck instead of our big tub in our bathroom. Sure, we joked that we were like Japanese monkeys, sunk down to our nostrils in the hot water and really not wanting to get out to dry off, but we had fun anyway. Yes, it was ridiculous, but we enjoyed it anyhow.
Of course we needed a shower to wash the bromine off (and to warm back up) once we got to our room, but that was fine, too. We’d laughed while shivering after toweling off out on the deck, tickled by the absurdity of hot-tubbing on an open-air deck forty-two stories above the London Streets on a late fall night, and that sense of humor carried us all the way to our warm bed that night.
Cuddling up against my side, Emmy thanked me for buying the apartment. “I would not have thought to buy a house like this, here in London- or anywhere else, for that matter,” she said, nestling in close. “But I find that I am enjoying this place more than I had thought I would. I know that Angela wanted a home here in London to be for me as much as anything, and it pleases me that it has turned out so well.”
“Honestly, it’s much… more homey than I expected, given the state it was in when we first saw it. I expected we’d come back to some sort of cold, chrome and glass showplace, but this isn’t that at all. Angela and the designers did an amazing job,” I agreed.
“It still does not feel like home the way our houses in Los Angeles or New York do, but I think that is simply a matter of time. I think that a few more weeks- we really can stay that long this visit, yes? A few more weeks here and it will feel comfortable and familiar,” Emmy said.
“And then we have to take the time to settle into the place in Colombia,” I reminded her.
“That will have to wait for a little while,” Emmy said, and I could tell by her voice she was starting to drift off. “I have music to record.”