Good Reads, Novel, Novelist, Writer, Writing, Blogger, Free Books, Free Serialized Books, nicah,la Cortes,
Searching for Love: - Part Two.
gOOd Reads, Novel, Novelist, Writer, Writing, Blogger, Free Books, Free Serialized Books,
Good Reads, Novel, Novelist, Writer, Writing, Blogger, Free Books, Free Serialized Books, nicah, nicah la Cortes,
© Copyright 2017 nicah La Cortes.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
Businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This is the Beta version. That means that I'm not finished with it yet. I think I've finished the story,
but I still have a way to go with editing. I promised I would release it, ready or not, by the kids summer
holidays. Well, it seems it's 'not', but a promise is a promise, right! Please bear with me.
-------------- o O o --------------
The story so far.
Having been left home by her father on a business trip to Berlin, Kellie struggles to understand why.
The next day, still smarting from the blow, her imagination begins to run riot. Her situation gets worse
as she fears a stalker, a figure from her past, has reappeared.
-------------- o O o --------------
3.
She hated school. She especially hated assembly and tried to distract herself dreaming for the moment that her sentence could be commuted. She consoled herself with the thought this would be the end of term soon and for her that would be the end of school for ever. She planned to announce she was quitting school and wouldn't be attending Uni. It was the one positive thing that she had taken from the last few days. She was determined to take control of her own life.
Her immediate problems were staying awake, despite having slept for so long, and finding Solo. She scanned the hall; he wasn't in assembly. Where was he when she needed him? It wasn't fair that he could take so many days off in term time without problems while she got grief every time she was even late.
In class, the sweltering summer sun was streaming through the window directly on her back. She couldn't remember it being so hot so early in the summer before; Global warming she decided. The atmosphere in class was palpable, hanging heavy, cloying, airless, she ran out of adjectives. The lesson droned on a monotone, an endless loop of elevator music. Kellie watched distantly through heavy eyelids as dust motes floated languidly in a shaft of sunlight. In her dreamlike state she felt a drop of perspiration trickle in slow motion down her temple or maybe it was an insect. Whatever, she lazily swatted at it.
Some people said she was snoring out loud, others said the noise came from behind somewhere. While others swore it sounded like something else, exactly what, well best not dwell on that, but it was loud, extremely loud. Startled from her stupor with the intro of ‘Crazy in Love’ ringing in her ears, her heart-rate instantly tripled. She swatted at her phone. She missed. It careened off the desk, describing a perfect arc in slow motion, before ricocheting off a chair and spinning to a stop in front of Lofty's foot.
Mr. Longfellow, aka Lofty, was Kellie's teacher for German language. Not that any of the students would dare to call him Lofty to his face. Lofty was short and rotund, with a beard and a long thin ginger comb-over which he was endlessly trying to sweep over his glistening bald patch. His style was hipster, slash refugee, with corduroy trousers and his hounds tooth jacket, complete with mandatory leather elbow patches completed the look. Most of the boys in the sixth form were taller than him as there were at least half the girls. It appeared that genetics had played a cruel joke naming him Longfellow. He stood there speechless, tapping his foot, but not to the beat, as he stared at the phone like it had just materialised from another dimension.
“Beam me up Scotty!” Kellie silently prayed as she wondered if his face could get any redder.
Shocked into silence, time seemed to stand still as if someone had hit the pause button. Beyonce picked up the beat from Jay-Z as Lofty's pink forehead glistened with a sheen of sweat.
“Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no. Oh no no," indeed the irony was not lost not her. Lofty startled, causing a drop of sweat to slash on her phone. Eeeuk! Gross!
“Whoever that contraption belongs to, switch it off and put it on my desk," he blustered.
Kellie's eyes rolled heavenward. He was standing over her, another drop of his sweat dripped on her phone. Come on, how could he not know whose phone it was? The class erupted, everyone laughing, shrieking and shouting, all at once. Lofty's face, usually a rosy pink colour, flushed bright red from his neck to his shining mainly bald head, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the class.
“Now, Scotty! Beam me up NOW!” She silently implored. She had visions for his head becoming incandescent and exploding.
The image of it filled her head. She tried to stifle her amusement but it came out as a loud snort. Maybe he had intended overlooking the incident at first, but now she was doomed. She could swear that the vein in his neck was throbbing to the beat of 'Crazy in Love' as he loomed over her. Well, he wasn't really tall enough to loom, not even when he was standing and she was sitting.
Too late, his eyes locked on hers. She was betrayed by her reddening face and flustered manner. She was obviously guilty as accused. She knew it and he knew it. He gave her the old stink-eye, his pinched stare traced from her eyes to the phone, pausing at his desk and back again. “Pick it up and put it on my desk,” he demanded.
Huh. Not a fan of ‘Queen B’, she thought?
“I'll deal with you after lessons,” he motioned toward his table with an abrupt flick of his wrist before patting another errant strand of hair back in place.
Humiliated and shaking she slowly obeyed returning to her desk. She sat there stewing and was just gathering the courage to object the injustice when the unthinkable happened, her prayers were answered not by Scotty but as the bell for the end of period rang. The class decamped, dumping their assignments on Lofty’s desk as they swarmed to their next lessons. Everyone except for Kellie, she was still in shock.
“I’m sorry Sir,” she said, “I keep it on mute during lessons. I don’t know what happened, it's not even my ring-tone. I promise it won’t happen again Sir.” Forget justice, now she only wanted out.
She was stressing, twisting her arm and digging her nails until she tore her skin and drew blood. She tried to be diplomatic despite her growing anger at what she felt was a gross injustice.
“Here! Take your confounded gadget, but I want an essay on ‘phone etiquette in class’, a minimum of six pages by Friday. Don’t let it happen again or there will be serious consequences next time,” then sweeping and smoothing his comb-over, while trying to gather as must dignity he could muster he waved her away.
She couldn’t believe it. Six pages! It would be very big writing, she didn't write six pages for her class assignments leave alone for a punishment for something that was not even her bad. Not that she had any intention of doing it anyway. Lofty glowered at her over his glasses and waved her way again dismissively.
Despite her lucky let-off, she was outraged by the unfairness of it as she struggled to keep her cool. She was about to complain when she saw the blood and decided to staunch it with a tissue. Lofty was stuffing the assignments onto his bag, ignoring her. She grabbed her phone and stalked out of the room with the bell ringing in her ears for the start of the next period. She legged toward to English literature. As soon as she was out of sight she powered up and checked her phone. There were two missed calls, one unknown number, and one from her mum. They would have to save until lunch break. No point risking further problems by being late for her next class.
She double checked her phone was in silent mode before entering class, apologising for being late as she took her place. She surreptitiously wiped a smear of blood from her desk and stuffed another tissue under her sleeve. Minutes into Miss Carr’s English lesson, the unthinkable happened. She groaned audibly, and total pandemonium ensued.
“Yes! It’s so crazy right now,” Jay-Z started again. She struggled to hit the power switch before Beyonce sang.
“Man that bitch got your number,” Thomas, the self-pointed class clown snickered aloud as Kellie killed the power.
“I think you meant to say, ‘That WOMAN has your number!’ Thank you Mr Thomas,” Miss Carr corrected. The words 'that woman' rang alarm bells in Kellie's head, causing her stomach to lurch.
“That is, assuming you were making a statement, otherwise it would be a question in which case the correct form would be 'has that WOMAN have your number?' Whichever way you choose, I have your number Mr Thomas, and you, are on detention,” Miss Carr said without even missing a beat. A couple of the girls grinned at one another as they high-fived. Some teachers just have it, always in control, Miss Carr had it in spades. The senior boys considered her a bespectacled hottie and were in awe of her; Getting detention from Miss Carr was considered a badge of honour.
Kellie was already halfway to the front of the class, “I’m sorry my phone seems to be broken Miss,” she explained weakly. She voluntarily placed the phone on the table, trying to forestall the inevitable confiscation.
“You and Mr Thomas are both on detention. Meanwhile, everyone settle down and let’s try to see if we can go through the remainder of the lesson without any more interruptions”. Miss Carr glanced dismissively at both of them. That should have been the end of it.
“Kellie, what is that on your phone and hand?” Miss Carr demanded as she spotted the blood on the phone and Kellie's arm, “let me see that?”
A couple of 'Eeucks!' and a 'cool!' echoed around the class as those nearest looked at the red stain seeping through her sleeve.
Miss Carr produced a pack of wet wipes from her draw and handed it to Kellie, “clean yourself up and let me see it again.” Kellie cleaned her hand and her arm and wiped the blood from her phone. “Keep pressure on it. It's only a scratch. If it starts bleeding again go to the medical centre,” Miss Carr said as Kellie passed the inspection and returned to her seat. She knew that Miss Carr would be visiting the matter of the injury during detention. Mortified and rapidly becoming an emotional wreck, she resorted to twisting her hair so hard it hurt. She didn't dare to attack her arm again.
The phone seemed to have taken a life of its own, it must have been broken or got a virus. She was certain that someone must have hacked her phone. Thomas was the obvious candidate; he was the class clown but he wasn’t malicious or that dumb, anyway he wouldn’t have the skills. Who would have the smarts to hack her phone and dare to prank her? Solo? He was her oldest friend and one of the smartest people she knew. He definitely had the ability but he wasn't the kind. Anyway he wasn't at school today, again. No, it wouldn’t be one of her class. Surely none of them would be that dumb or mean to prank her out loud in class. Maybe it was one of the nerds. Some of them definitely had the hacking skills, but would any of them have the stones? Besides they knew what would happen when she found them, and she would find them.
Kellie was so deep in her funk, as she considered a plausible explanation for the phone. As she plotted revenge on whoever was responsible she missed what happened next. She was interrupted by the click of the classroom door closing. She didn’t remember the class being interrupted. She could see Miss Carr with one of the school administration staff deep in conversion through the glass of the door but she couldn’t hear what was being said. She could see both of them repeatedly glancing at her, frowning, talking and nodding. It seems to be about her, of course it was about her, who else would it be about? This was turning into a mare of a day.
A wave of anxiety rolled over her. Maybe the whole cell phone incident had escalated. It looked like it was about to go nuclear. Her stomach lurched again, her face hot, ‘Why me? Why now? Get a grip', she thought immediately, disregarding her own advice and beginning to unravel.
She was feeling muddled and confused like something was horribly, gut wrenching, wrong. Yesterday, today, her parents fight, not going to Berlin, the stalker, the bad night, her suspicions, being late, her phone, the list kept getting longer and kept getting worse.
Funny how the most absurd little things seem to spring to mind in moments of stress. She could remember thinking of the word 'foreboding'. That was what she was feeling, she should remember to use it in an essay. 'Paranoia' that’s another good one she was feeling. She should definitely use that in an essay she thought.
Somewhere she could have sworn the theme for Jaws played. “Duh.... Duh duh, duh.”
Miss Carr re-entered the class, collecting Kellie's phone en-route to her desk. Placing the phone to her desk, Miss Carr bent close. Kellie's held her breath, surely Miss Carr could hear the sound of her heart pounding she thought.
“Collect your things together and go to the Principal's office please Kellie dear,” she whispered then paused adding, “be quick, Mrs Taylor is waiting to escort you.” Miss Carr had called her a ‘dear' and gave her a concerned look of pity, like the one you would give a sick puppy you needed to send to the vet to put down. Kellie was horrified as she realised she was the sick puppy.
It was a waking nightmare, full panic ahead. She was light-headed and breathless. Now she was certain everyone could hear her heart echoing as she stood hanging momentarily onto her desk for support. The class was shocked into silence. Some of the girls looked on open-mouthed, “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” she mouthed back, drained and barely able to shrug her shoulders in response.
Shocked and silent, she packed her bags and exited the room. She heard Miss Carr saying, “It’s OK, no one is in trouble.. .” before the sounds became distant, and muffled as if she had entered a bubble.
Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridors only punctured by the occasional squeak of sneakers on over-polished floors. The all-pervading smell of school, polish, industrial cleaner, teenage sweat and hormones assaulted their noses. It was oppressively institutional, like a scene from a prison movie, the condemned prisoner’s last walk. Her paranoia was running wild. She was feeling faint. She gulped for air, her skin feeling clammy. “Get a grip!” She said without realising she had spoken out-loud.
Mrs Taylor must have heard, “It's OK, you're not in any kind of trouble dear,” she repeated unconvincingly. She turned, pausing momentarily to pat her shoulder that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
'Stop saying that!' She pleaded silently as her tummy somersaulted with another ‘sick puppy’ moment! Her overactive imagination kicked into high gear.
The corridor became a court, the doors, the jurors on one side echoed, 'Trouble! Trouble! Trouble!'
'Lies! Lies!' the prosecution team taunted her on the other side.
Mrs Taylor, the bailiff, cold and disapproving, pointed to a seat outside the Principal's office. The bailiff morphed into the judge handing down the death sentence, her smile one of pity rather than warmth.
She felt a cold compress on her neck and someone was fanning cool air into her face.
“Open the doors and get some cool air in. It’s hotter than a baker's oven in here,” she heard a voice saying.
Kellie sensed the concern in everyone's voice, as her head stopped spinning and her thoughts became more lucid. She noticed that everyone seemed to be especially careful like they were handling her with kid gloves. It wasn't normal and it wasn't good. It may not be ‘trouble’ but she knew bad news when she saw it, and this must have been really bad news.
She tried thinking of something to distract herself as she waited there. She thought about the decision she made last night to take control of her own life. 'Oh yeah! See how well that's playing out!' She thought. Well, it wasn't a decision she had taken on a whim, it was a considered and reasoned decision. She knew she couldn't face another three years of this.
She contemplated how that single decision could affect the rest of her life. Her parents would object, like most parents they only wanted the best for their daughter. But Kellie had a very definite sense of what would be best for her. All she needed was to convince them of that.
Kellie was an unstoppable force. Many Asperger sufferers are. Not that she considered herself a sufferer, in no way was that true of her. Yes, she knew she was uncomfortable and awkward in most social situations, and people didn't know better often considered her rude. But she also knew she had a talent for mental arithmetic, and maths and that translated well to hacking into computer systems.
As different, and a loner she often suffers from bullying, even now in her senior year they called her ‘geek girl', or half of the 'tech-twins'. They soon learnt better. Their phones and other computers would mysteriously mess up, forwarding their private messages and pictures to their friends, or worse to their teacher's, parent's email, or social media pages. Of course the problem could never be traced back to her. But if the unfortunate persecutors begged hard enough and long enough, she was always able to solve the problem. It became a kind of mutually assured destruction pact.
In fact, it was her skill of computer programming coupled with her miserable school life that convinced her to forgo further education to try her hand at writing computer apps full-time. She planned to tell her parents her decision next week after her dad returned from his business meeting. If he had managed to pull-off the deal with Siemens her parents would be in a happy frame of mind and that would soften the blow about Uni. With her future sorted in her mind she started thinking about the next problem 'that woman' and what to do with her.
Just then she was ushered into Mr McMahon’s room. He looked puzzled as if he was wrestling with some really difficult mental arithmetic. He understood that her academic requirements were different and tried to address them as best he could. She was an exceptional but exacting talent, one that anyone would struggle to fit into the parameters of regular school life. He rubbed his jaw sighing with a pained expression before steepling his hands before him. Kellie sat silently as she dug her fingernails into her arms with a vengeance, risking drawing blood again.
When he finally spoke he launched ahead without preamble, “There’s been an accident. I’m sorry,” he started.
She was startled by the suddenness of it. Her brain was racing with a patchwork of possibilities: A surreal slide-show started to play in her head. Her course work had been lost or worst ruined! Someone had hacked into her Snapchat account, eek those pictures, remember to do something about the pictures! The house is on fire! The cat got run over! What really! No sirens, and like Yoda would never have been run over! Be real, she told herself.
The pictures appeared to be out of phase with Mr McMahon's words. A picture of the ruined homework flashed into her mind with words, “Aunt Rose spoke on the phone”: Her hacked account, ”She was on the way”: The house on fire. “ her father injured”: The cat dead in the road, ”accident, autobahn, hospital, Berlin.” A confused jumble of words and sounds.
Never lost for the right words for the occasion, especially in a crisis she heard herself saying, “Er, what?” thinking she'd misheard. Her brain ran on fast-forward and snatched fragments of his words and finally formed meaningful sentences.
“Your Aunt Rose spoke to me on the phone. She's on her way to pick you up. Your father has been injured. There was an accident on the autobahn. He's in hospital in Berlin,” he repeated.
Mr McMahon didn't look like he was kidding, he didn’t look like he was not a man who kidded a lot or ever. He looked concerned, deadly serious. There was that millisecond of doubt between hearing and understanding, before the brutal reality of the words struck home.
“Your mother is flying to see him. Your aunt Rose is on the way to collect you. I really hope everything works out OK. We must stay positive and hope that it is not serious. Try not to worry.”
She must have been in shock, everything seemed to move in slow motion as fragments of his disjointed words filtered into her consciousness. It echoed in her head, over and over again. She was reeling. Autobahn – Hospital - Rose picking you up - Flying to him – Berlin - Stay with your aunt Rose. We - Stay positive - Serious'. The words echoed in her mind as search to find meaning..
The feeling of foreboding (there that word again) suddenly became all too tangible. This was not going to end well, she feared. Autobahn meant a high-speed crash, not a fender bender. Flashing images of mangled metal, smoke and fire. DAD! People don’t fly to Germany for a fender bender. More images of people in pain, broken, injured, Mum red-eyed sobbing. MUM! This was more than imagination, this was reality. It was a big deal, a REALLY BIG, BAD deal! MUM! DAD! Help, I need you, where are you?
Wow! The house burned down - cat run over, she wished. She wasn’t prepared for that. When was anyone ever ‘prepared’ for that. She didn’t collapse into hysterics, or even cry, well maybe just a single sniffle. Determined not to cause a scene or show any more weakness, she just shut down, silently staring into the void. She could hear Mr McMahon talk but she couldn’t process what he was talking about.
4.
Kellie was looping in ground-hog mode. She was sure Mr McMahon was doing his best to comfort her but she wasn’t listening. She didn’t know how long they sat there, him talking and her not listening. Eventually, she became aware of someone hugging her and rubbing her shoulders.
Aunt Rose was her paternal aunt and there was no one other than her parents that Kellie would rather see right then. She was two years older than her dad and had been a fixture in her life for as long as she could remember.
Rose was driving when Kellie started, “What happened? Is dad OK? Where is he, and where’s mum? Where are we going?" She launched into an interrogation, not waiting for Rose to answer.
“I’ll tell you everything I know, but that’s not much. I’m as desperate for news as you are," Rose said, “OK, abridged version. At about 10 a.m., a policeman knocked on the door and reported that John and Madeline Turner had been involved in a road traffic accident in Berlin, where I was listed as a contact. I’d phoned your mum at home in Fareham this morning, and I knew that John was in Berlin. I phoned Maddie back; she confirmed he was at the conference. He flew to Berlin-Schoenefeld...”
“Yes, he's staying in the IBIS Style; he's at the IoT Tech Expo at the BCC, the conference centre in Alexanderstrasse. I know all that I booked it for him,” Kellie for desperate answers interrupted trying to speed the story along.
Rose's face was a picture as Kellie interrupted. Obviously she didn't brook interruptions.
“Well if you allow me to tell you without interrupting madam, I'll tell you.” She huffed, looking down at her nose.
“Sorry, aunt Rose.” She interrupted again.
Rose sighed, and resumed with a withering look. “It’s about the Internet, computers and security but you wouldn't understand that kind of stuff.”
Kellie's jaw dropped at that. Rose continued on oblivious.
“Your mum said he travelled early yesterday because he wanted to network with some contacts who were staying at the hotel. He had joked about having seen a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, and a sign for McDonald’s by the station, so he wouldn’t starve but he may get indigestion.. .”
'Get to the point,' she pleaded silently. Kellie knew all that already, she had been planning the trip with her dad for weeks before, but she didn't interrupt again.
“. . . he had phoned just before going to dinner with a colleague, but didn’t plan to phone this morning because of the early start and the time difference. She expected him to call or text during his lunch break. He was probably in the conference sessions and certainly wasn’t planning to hire a car, and besides the Conference Centre was in Alexanderstrasse, the down-town shopping and business centre had everything anyone could possibly want to buy right there. .“
Kellie stifled her instinct to scream, 'The point, get to the point!' She knew losing it wouldn't help, so tried to let the words flow over her.
Rose's monologue faded in again. “. . . So after speaking with the officer we all concluded that this must be a case of mistaken identity. I had a niggling feeling that wouldn’t go away, so I called John’s cell on the off chance, but it was still unreachable. About half an hour later I tried again, but still no signal. Minutes later the phone rang and I expected to hear John returning the missed calls and saying ‘stop being such a worry wart.’ But it was Maddie and she was distressed and near to tears.”
At last she got to the news!
“She told how the police had visited the house and wanted to see her passport. Having confirmed who she was, they said sorry about the confusion but it was in fact John, his identity had been confirmed, and he was in hospital in Berlin. Of course Maddie immediately called me and I arranged to collect you from school." Rose finished as they arrived home.
“So Dad's in hospital following a car accident," Kellie summarised, “and that's all we know.”
“Yes, that's what I just said. Do keep up dear!” Rose admonished sounding exasperated, “we’re here. Let’s hope it’s good news”!
Sitting together after the mandatory touching of cheeks, with hugs and red teary eyes, the story began to be teased apart. Mum was trying to get more details from the hospital; she found that Charite was a huge hospital, with a reputation to match. It was a University Hospital with three campuses. Dad was transferred to Campus Virchow-Klinikum by air ambulance. With legendary German efficiency, all ran well until they asked who was speaking.
“I am Maddie Turner Mrs Turner, John Turner’s wife,” Maddie said.
Immediately the conversation which had been in excellence English stalled, there was a pause then a discussion between two people speaking German. Then someone said sorry but it was a police matter, and she would have to speak with the police. With that, the call ended abruptly.
“I just can’t seem to get on any further than this. It is hard enough to cope without trying to handle the bloody Germans. I’m not saying this right. It’s not that they are German, or even a foreign language. It’s just I can tell when someone is not telling me something. No matter what language they are speaking, they are being obstructive. I’m going to bring John home and nothing and no one is going to stop me!” Maddie, her frustration starting to mount, was getting steely.
“Hello! I speak German. Ich spreche Deutsch. I’ll translate. I can do it,” Kellie interrupted, pleased to have something to do.
“Have you spoken to Tim dear?" Rose cut in forcefully, ignoring Kellie.
“I haven’t even thought about Tim; I’m sorry, could you call him, he needs to know.”
“I needn’t think either. Tim speaks fluent German and he works for Interpol or something similar, if anyone just sort this out he can.” Her mind was set, discussion was out of the question as Rose dialled the number, immediately raising a finger as the phone answered.
A short, one-sided conversation ensued as Tim was appraised of the situation.
“Well, he’ll be here within a couple of hours.” Rose announced triumphantly. “Until then we need a plan A and a plan B depending on what he comes up with. I wouldn’t normally leave a man to organise anything but in this case it’s his job to handle the police. He will sort matters out with the German police and the hospital and arrange to fly John home with Maddie. If there’s a problem then he will go ahead and Maddie will follow as soon as things are sorted.”
“What about me? I speak German. When am I coming? You just said you needed me to handle the German for you,” Kellie blurted, desperate to help and annoyed at being ignored.
“It’ll only be a couple of days, while we get dad home," Maddie replied, shooting a silent ‘help me!’ plea to Rose.
Rose looked at Kellie and said, “You and I will be at my house until your mum and dad get home. Right now, pack a couple of overnight bags, one for mum and one for you. Maddie you get flights and a hotel for Tim for early tomorrow”.
“Actually you can’t book flights and hotels until we know who is going and when they are going,” Kellie snipped irritatedly. She was becoming annoyed by the continual put-downs and went to her room.
“Why don’t I make dinner”, Maddie suggested, not feeling hungry but just doing something to keep her hands occupied and trying to defuse the situation? A sullen teenager was the last thing she needed in the circumstances.
They fussed about making dinner. Not that anyone ate much other than Yoda, who stuffed himself sick with all the leftovers. Maddie made the beds in the two back bedrooms for Rose and Tim.
Kellie was desperately hoping for a message from her dad. There was a slew of calls from classmates and friends all desperate for gossip. She was surprised to find she had many 'friends'. Ironic, she thought, she could be trending right now on Twitter. She responded that she had to go to Berlin after the accident. It was only a little lie; She was angry about not going again and guessed that no-one would know she was at her Aunt's and it made her sound important. The messages flooded back and she instantly regretted tweeting, but it was too late. She signed off. She wasn’t in any mood to talk to or text anyone.
Despite the knock-backs that she'd endured from her mum and aunt Rose, she was determined to do her part. As a corporate card holder, she called AMEX and informed the concierge service of the situation. Then she waited. She was so stressed and in shock from the news that she never thought to check Google for details of the accident and she certainly didn't even think about the phone problems earlier in the day. Minute by minute news from the concierge service trickled in, but the two hours passed like an eternity. Finally, a car pulled onto the drive next to Rose's car. Uncle Tim had arrived.
Uncle Tim was younger than her father. They had been in the Army together and now he was something in the civil service. She remembered that he had been posted to Germany but now he lived in London. Divorced, no children.
During the evening she learnt more about Uncle Tim. He had served in the RMP (Royal Military Police) in Germany and was fluent in German and French. Because of his language and his background in the police and military police, he was now in the NCA (National Crime Agency), with the intelligence unit monitoring European gangs, people traffickers and cyber crime. He worked with police and intelligence services across Europe. He characterised his job as "mainly pencil pushing and paper shuffling, keying databases and spreadsheets in writing reports and compiling statistics." She sensed it was much more important and glamorous than he pretended.
Well, he was her favourite uncle, her only uncle and it was a cool job, even if he wasn’t exactly a secret agent it still sounded cool. 'The international intelligence service, fighting cyber crime' that was destined for her Facebook page, let her 'friends' chew on that. No wonder Aunt Rose said he would sort it out!
By the time he had driven down from London most of the problems had been ironed out. He had spoken to the police in Berlin and the Hospital administration and they would be pleased to cooperate as soon as the formalities had been completed.
“Is John an American Express member?” Tim puzzled, “I got a text message and apparently I've been added to his account as a supplemental member whatever that is. An agency girl takes care of all the department's travel details. She said that AMEX called her to confirm all the details, that someone had already taken care of everything.”
“That was me,” Kellie apologised, “I'm sorry I needed to do something to help. There's a card for you and one for mum, you will both enjoy full privileges, it will be waiting for you at check-in. If you let me have your phones for a moment, I'll download a special app for you.” She omitted to mention that she was installing tracker apps on their phones. There was no way that she was losing track of her mum and dad; if she couldn't be with them in person then she would stalk their every movement online.
“You did it!” Rose said incredulously.
Tim's eyes narrowed as Kellie became the focus of her attention. He was about to say something before Kellie preempted her.
“On Dad's corporate card,” she added to allay his suspicions.
“Thank you, KT. There I was afraid you'd panic and lose-it, and you're fine, and I'm the one who's losing-it,” Maddie sniffed and dabbing her eyes as she looked proudly at her daughter, “why didn't I think of that? You're my little star!” she said as she squeezed her daughter's shoulders.
“I did panic at first but I got over it and got on with it and I'm OK now,” she said with an air of apparent confidence that belied her anxiety. Just substitute "being scared witless" with panic and "barely functioning" for "over it now" and "OK," she thought. Taking control of her own life didn't seem to be working out the way she pictured. At least she'd done something positive.
“There are some things you need to know; the Hotel and the Hospital you know; a car to the airport will pick you up at five; your cards will be waiting at check-in, and I've loaded your tickets onto the app on your phones; there are route maps for Berlin, from the airport to the hotel, and to the hospital and everything else I could think of, on your phones: There are funds to cover anything you need, private medical staff and air ambulance transfers to the UK; oh yeah mum, your overnight bag is packed and your passport is on the top of it,” she paused before adding, “I think that's all.”
“Well I see that you have everything under control.” Tim commented giving his niece an admiring glance.
“I just phoned the AMEX emergency response team; we booked through dad's business account, and I told them what had happened; they did everything else, except for googling the maps, I googled the maps.” She was careful to minimise her role.
With Mum, Rose and Tim to comfort her, Kellie's spirits were starting to rise again until Tim said there were questions that needed to be answered. Tim had suggested that maybe she shouldn’t be included in the adult conversation, but Mum said we had no secrets and Rose said she was an adult. Kellie was annoyed by Tim's attitude toward her but glowed inside at being included with the adults. Why could she have been an 'adult' when she wanted to go to Berlin and translate? It turns out she was not as much an adult as she imagined. She didn’t need to hear these things, and worse, now she couldn’t un-hear them. Her worst fears were confirmed.
Tim started, “The question was 'why did the reports say that John and Madeline Turner were in a car crash?' Apparently the occupants sustained life threatening injuries from the crash and the fire and were immediately airlifted to hospital. The police made a provisional ID based on the passport and photos in John’s jacket. Unfortunately, the woman died in the trauma unit having never regained consciousness. Because of the nature of her injuries and the circumstances of the accident, it will be a few days before anyone will be able to confirm her identity.”
“Hey! Excuse me! Back up the bus there! No one told me about 'fires and life threatening injuries’, and what about the woman, who is she?” she blurted her eyes, tearing up and trying not to cry.
“I’m sorry, I thought you knew,” Tim said his eyes closed and his head leaning back like he was imploring heaven before staring at the ceiling.
“I told you so,” Rose whispered loudly, “size seven-teens. Mr Plod.” She nodded to Maddie.
Kellie could see that he was annoyed by being blind-sided as he looked between Rose and Maddie for help. Maddie avoided everyone’s gaze tight lipped and Rose pretended she hadn't heard.
Tim glared at Rose, “Well, apparently the car caught fire, the woman, the driver, died in transit to the trauma unit. John survived and is receiving the best possible care at Charite Virchow - Klinikum Hospital. We are hoping we can arrange to bring him back home in a couple of days,” he continued.
“So no one told me that. No one told me!” Kellie repeated petulantly. She glared at each of them in turn accusingly. “Why didn't anyone tell me this sooner?”
“I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily.” Maddie excused softly. “Tim said the hospital said he was making progress.”
“She will hear it all sooner or later. It’s better to tell the truth than hear it from gossip and innuendo,” Rose looked around guiltily at everyone saying what everyone was not thinking before asking Tim accusingly, “Do you know who she is?”
“I'm making enquiries. The whole matter is a dog's dinner. So much for German efficiency. I'll be able to sort it out when we get there,” was all Tim would say treading carefully.
“I don’t know who she is, or why they were driving around Berlin together. He was meant to be in a conference,” Maddie pleaded, her voice wobbling and eyes tearing up.
“I’m sure that there is nothing to worry about”, Tim quickly covered his blunder trying to regain the initiative and minimise the damage, “I’m often chauffeured to and fro at meetings and conferences, especially when I’m in an unfamiliar city. Maybe the hotel has a complimentary limo service to the conference venue. We can’t go jumping to conclusions, when there are a dozen better simple explanations.”
“Still Mr Sensitivity I see.” Rose interjected, giving Tim a withering look, as if it was all his fault. He appeared to be about to get into it with Rose as familiar sibling rivalries and gender politics raised their heads again.
“Cut it out Rose. This is not the time for your childish games.” He snapped, his voice was unexpectedly harsh and cold.
Kellie noted that Rose recoiled slightly as she was silenced. She didn't know if it was because of the words or the way he said them. She guessed the goading hadn't worked out as she had expected. He had a command and authority that demanded attention. Maybe Uncle Tim's training in the Army and the police had equipped him with a few new skills since their childhood.
“We all have an early morning and a long day ahead so let’s try to what sleep we can,” he suggested. He spoke quietly again after having had his moment.
Changing the subject, Rose issued her orders, “I've put fresh linen in the two back rooms for Tim and I for tonight, and Kellie and I will stay at my house until you and Tim get back with John.”
It was well before ten when they retired to bed, though there was little chance that any of them would have gotten much sleep that night. Kellie tossed and turned, snatching at the fractured shards of dreams, descending into grotesque nightmares of car crashes, fires and faint glimpses of her dad with a faceless woman. After a couple of hours she'd had enough of the torture and switched on her laptop to search for news of the crash in the German press.
And there it was!
The picture morphed into the shape of the blackened, burned-out shell of an Opel Corsa, the car that would take a starring role in all her future nightmares.
She heard the involuntary intake of air as she looked away. Her skin was flushed with heat as a prickly sensation washed over her body. She gasped for air swallowing rapidly, trying to stem the automatic gag reflex. Despite her best efforts, her watering eyes kept being drawn to the horror on the screen. She snapped the computer shut and tried to compose herself. She was gasping with her eyes closed but the images remained, it seemed as though they had been indelibly imprinted on her retinas.
The grotesque scene filled the screen again as she opened her laptop. It immediately ambushed her as her gaze locked onto a picture of the interior of the car, with her eyes focused on the passenger's footwell. A melted phone lay in the centre, looking like an obscene Salvador Dali painting. She recognised it. It stared back at her; she couldn't escape its mocking gaze. She would know it anywhere, even as misshapen and melted as it was. She'd given it to him as a birthday present only last month along with the aftershave. She could swear she could still smell it in her room.
She was shocked to see the damage to the car, and the fire must have been intense. She prayed that her father wasn't suffering too much pain from his injuries and that he'd be home soon. She now took comfort in the fact that her mother and Tim would be with him within hours. At least he would be with them and able to see them.
She blanked the screen, buried her face under her pillow and sobbed silently. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke with a start as the nightmares started again, but now she woke with a new sense of purpose.
This time she was ready when she opened her laptop and quickly scrolled the pictures off frame. She wasn't able to face them. These were pictures that she could never forget. Images she could never unsee. She stared past pictures and read and reread accounts for about a half an hour before she processed them and then she knew what she needed to do. Someone was going to pay.
The news hadn't reached the English press, and she doubted that anyone in the family would read the German papers or would think to search for it. To be safe, she deleted the search history from her laptop and the server. The newspaper mentioned that this was not the first of alleged spontaneous combustion involving an Opel Corsa. It seems this was only the latest in a series of similar fires, most fortunately not fatal. It wasn't just Opel Corsa, apparently, that Firenza was also alleged to have spontaneously combusted. She began searching for other accounts of fires involving General Motors vehicles. This was not an isolated occurrence. Soon she gathered stories involving spontaneous combustion from all around the world.
That was the start of her database. She copied articles to a text database, indexed by dates, vehicle, and location, along with any reference to emergency organisations, personal and third-party witnesses involved. All references to names and/or organisations to be traced and catalogued later. The vehicle and its history will be analysed and added later. There was a category of occupants, their disposition and injuries. It was a good start. Finding what and who was at fault was essential to making them pay and she was determined to find them.
Now for 'that woman'. Simple, she opened her dad's calendar and there it was, 'Jana Turnau, Siemens, Ibis Styles, 17:30.' The smoking gun! Her eyes were smarting and she swallowed rapidly trying to smother the instinct to cry again. She lost the fight and threw herself on her bed her tears staining the pillow. Until then it had all seemed a little unreal. Now it is all too real. She hated her, this Jana Turnau woman, she was glad that she was dead, but she felt cheated by her death, she wanted more. Revenge.
At about the time that Tim had arrived, the stalker was sitting in the window of the Lord Arthur Lee enjoying a pie and a pint had he scanned the street for his quarry. This time he would be more careful not to spook her. He would stay well back, just follow and check where she lived.
He didn't see her. Where was she? Disappointed he walked the route he had expected to Grove Road. The blue Merc. was there, maybe that witch of a mother of hers had picked her up from school. No matter, he knew where she lived now.
5.
Kellie was thankful to put the misery of the night behind her. Another day closer to conquering her demons. She had been awake since before five and was tired and cranky from the loss of sleep. Maddie and Tim had been collected by the airport car service just like her father had 48 hours earlier. She registered the worry and sleeplessness etched on their determined faces as she waved their goodbyes. It was the second time in the last twenty-four hours that she'd been left behind. She calculated they would be boarding the plane soon and she was still annoyed about it; she'd been outnumbered and out manoeuvred this time, but she was determined she wouldn't let it happen again.
Sometime during the night she'd dreamt she had been in the car instead of her father, and that disturbed her causing her to keep slipping into 'ground-hog day' mode where she would repeat a conversation or situation compulsively. It was stress and one of her quirks. She knew it was not normal, and it wouldn't alter the outcome, but it was difficult to control. Kellie repeated the scene over and over again in her mind.
“Kellie! Kellie, are you ready? '' Rose called interrupting her reverie.
Kellie managed to snap back to reality again. Rose's endless fussing was already beginning to wear her down.
They had been hampered by having to wrangle a reluctant cat into a pet carrier. The moment he saw the carrier Yoda was suspicious, probably fearing a visit to the vet. He had tried to hide upstairs under her bed, his 'go to' hiding place. After scratching, swearing and spitting at her, he was finally captured. Why are cats so difficult to catch? The twisting, squirming mass of claws and teeth was in his carry case in the back seat of the car. He sat there sulking, refusing the cat treats she offered, choosing instead to turn his back and ignore her. Not a good start.
It was an unprecedented favour; the was the first time anyone had known Aunt Rose to allow the concession of a cat at her house. She was not a cat person. Aunt Rose was not an animal person period. Probably the idea of returning to feed and care for Yoda everyday was the easier option. Maybe she really thought Yoda would be a comfort and distraction while they were in exile.
'He'll be a distraction for you,' she stated.
“Yeah! Aunt Rose!' She said, adding “A distraction for you he will be. May the paws be with you.” Rose responded with a puzzled expression. Not a fan of Star Wars then, Kelly assumed.
Finally, bags and cats at all, were packed and headed in the same direction. Well, not quite she had 'forgotten' her school work, which she'd secreted behind the door in the sitting room. It was part of a part-baked plan she'd thought-up during the night. OK, it was not her brightest plan but she was stressed and sleep deprived. She'd need to get access to the server in her dad's office without anyone over her shoulder and that meant she needed to return home to make a VPN (Virtual Private Network) connection.
They drove along the M27 in silence and Kellie tried to marshal her thoughts and refine her plans. Apparently Rose didn't like the radio on when she was driving, she saw it as a distraction. Rose hummed tunelessly, almost as bad as whistling Kellie winced to herself. She was fine with the silence, but the humming, and it was more than she could bear. Given that Aunt Rose was in such a benevolent frame of mind, she thought she would make the most of it. She had a few questions following last night’s big revelations. She’d started slowly; feeling her way carefully.
“Are you busy with the bakery?” Kellie started innocently enough.
Rose was the joint owner and manager of a bakery. It was something for her to do when Per was away. It was only small, Rose baked and Val her friend and business partner, an amazing confectioner had worked at a five-star hotel. They crafted bespoke cakes for weddings and other special occasions.
“Will Marte be working with you over the holiday?” Her cousin Marte was a regular addition to the staff over the holiday season.
“I doubt that she'll have any time for baking while she's at university, but Per will if he's home.” It was a real family business.
“Oh! I really love those Scandinavian thingys she makes. What are the called? 'Fattymen' or something.”
“I think you're thinking of Fattigmann dear,” Rose grinned at her pronunciation, “she bakes the Kransekake, Blotkake and Goro using her Norwegian Oma's, recipes. The German recipes Stolen, Gingerbread, Zimtsterne and Lebkuchen come from your own great grandmother recipes. Actually here's a lovely and helpful project for you. To store all Oma Hope's and Marte's Norwegian Oma's recipes, and save them in on the computer for me in a database. They're all in German and Norwegian, so you'll need to translate them to English first.”
Kellie nodded her agreement. Not wanting to, but not wanting to seem appear ungrateful.
”Thank you dear. That would be most helpful. They are old family recipes. I'll dig then out for you.”
The plan wasn't working. Trying another tack Kellie casually dropped in her second line of questioning, “How come Uncle Tim never remarried?”
“I think that he thought that once was enough,” she smiled wryly. “He's had plenty girlfriends, too many if you ask me. He needs to settle down again, have a family, but he’s married to his work,” Rose mused.
“Does uncle Tim have a current girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. Why?"
“I just wondered if he had a German girlfriend," she continued.
“He was married when he was in Germany but Tina was English. Why the interest with uncle Tim?"
OK, this was the opening she was looking for, “I was just wondering about the German woman. Who was she? How did she know dad, or if uncle Tim knew her?"
“As this just idle curiosity or is there something more behind this?"
“My dad’s in hospital and my mum is freaking out and it's all because of some mystery German woman and I need to know why.' She demanded. Rose didn't answer and the silence stretched so she tried again. “Why do you think mum got so angry when Tim mentioned the other woman being in the car?” she cut to the chase. “Do you think they were having an affair? I hate it and I hate her!”
“You’re stressed dear, we all are, the last twenty-four hours have been enough to stress all of us. I really can't imagine your father having an affair with anyone, or your uncle Tim either for that matter. I’m sure there will be a logical explanation for all of this. I'm sure Tim will find the answer.” Rose fudged the answer, she was desperately trying to avoid 'that' conversation with her niece.
“Do you think he's hiding something or doesn't he know?”
“Know what?”
Kellie nearly spilt the beans about Jana Turnau she'd found on the web. Thankfully something stopped her, and she managed to stop herself in time. She plunged on deciding to go with her direct line of questioning.
“I think Uncle Tim is hiding something, or he's not telling the truth; First, he said the woman was probably a chauffeur or a taxi driver, but the police would have known that and would have said if it had been a limo or a taxi. That means she was probably driving her own car or a hire car, and that means the police know who owns it and who she is; Second, dad should have been at the conference, so why were they driving, where to and why? What were they doing and who was she to him?” Kellie summarised.
She realised for the first time how angry she was at her father. Kellie balled and flexed her fists, twisting her arms. She would have pinched her arm with her nails until they bled if Rose had not been there next to her in the car.
Rose became aware that the signs of Kellie's increasing stress and anger were spiralling out of control. “You must try not to stay calm and to think about other things. I hope you didn’t lay awake thinking about it all night," said Rose, trying to be helpful but just coming over as patronising again.
“I am sooo tired, and pi - peeved off. I want answers." Kellie ended her outburst with more of a sob, rather than the self righteous anger she was aiming for. “I don't know who I'm most angry about, dad or that Jana Turnau bitch.” She spat, not realising she'd said the name. She turned away from Rose and stared into the distance, struggling to control her emotions and not burst out crying. Kellie had surprised and frightened herself with the intensity of her emotions. She finally surrendered control and let go curled-up, sobbing out loud.
Rose turned to her, offering comfort and rubbing her shoulders. “It’s all right, let it go... ” A blast from a car horn shocked her into action. She'd let her concentration slip and had veered across the centre of the road straight into oncoming traffic. She sawed at the steering wheel causing the car to swerve violently left then right, over-steering and forcing the wheels to plough a furrow on the soft grass verge before she finally regained control.
“Oh my grief! Oh! Oh my word. I'm sorry my dear!” She said gasped, gripping the steering wheel and staring at the road ahead as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Kellie, however, appeared to be off in her own world and missed the excitement.
Rose was shocked at much by Kellie's outburst as her accurate analysis of the situation. She had badly underestimated the girl. Apparently Rose had missed the name incident. They continued driving in silence as she struggled to process Kellie's revelation, wondering how she was going to cope if Kellie started unravelling again. She was so bright and so highly strung. Rose thought of calling Maddie, but poor Maddie already had her hands full with John in Berlin. She could only wait and hope that Kellie would calm down.
Rose’s phone rang, breaking the silence and her train of thought. The hands-off system announced the incoming call was from Marte. She accepted the call and Marte's voice came on the speaker. Marte was sorry to hear about dad, and asked for news. Hearing that Kellie was in the car and would be staying with Rose. Marte insisted that as exams were finished she would return home to help this afternoon rather than stay over in Brighton.
They had a lot of catching-up to do. Kellie had spent many happy holidays together at Rose’s house when they were younger. Marte had called her ‘her little sister’, and Kellie adored being Marte's little sister. Then slowly they became more distant in their teenage years until now they rarely met or spoke any more.
Rose hoped that the reunion would help distract Kellie over the next few days, and was relieved to notice her perk-up at the thought of spending time with Marte, while Kellie hoped to recruit Marte to be her ally in her plan. No matter what anyone else thought, Kellie was determined that someone was going to pay.
“I’d better tell you the house rules concerning the cat,” Rose went on to read the law about animals in the house hoping to distract her longer, “it’s your cat, that makes it your personal responsibility. You feed him and you clean up after him as soon as he’s done his business. Clean it out of the house and air the room or better, spray the room with Oust. Keep it next to his tray, I’ll buy a new can for you tomorrow. He’s to stay in the conservatory at all times, no scratching and no cat hair around the house. Definitely no cat in the bedrooms."
Kellie nodded, what else could she do, the words 'fusspot' lit-up like a neon sign in her head. She glanced behind at Yoda in the back seat; Like he cared less about her stupid rules, all he cared about was eating and having somewhere, or someone, soft and warm to sleep on. Despite having food and a warm comfortable blanket to sleep on he sulked in the cat carrier to await his doom avoiding eye contact with her.
When they arrived Kellie ‘won’ the guest room as Marte would be in her own room. Whoopee do! The more Kellie thought about it she realised she wasn’t entirely happy that Marte was staying. It wasn’t her fault, but she had always felt like Cinderella around Marte. The fact was that she was a little jealous, or envious and maybe even a little intimidated. Inevitably, over time as they grew and drifted apart. There was nothing special that split them apart just the slow drift of life's tides and distance that separates us all over time.
Marte's had inherited her classic Scandinavian looks that combination of fair skin, blond hair and blue eyes from her father. She'd got her drive and determination from her mother. She had an outgoing personality and it appeared that she saw Kellie as a bit of a project. A work in progress, if you like.
Marte never really understood Kellie's autism or her need for solitude, especially when she felt overwhelmed by strange people and situations. That sensory over stimulation and provocation could cause her immense distress and trigger a fight or flee response from her. Now having studied first year psychology, and as an older and wiser person she was more able and willing to understand.
Kellie, too, had learnt tolerance and forbearance. Of course she still had a lot to learn about human nature, especially when it came to reading and responding to other people's emotions. She was trying, though she sometimes found Marte's reactions to situations as incomprehensible as she assumed as she found Kellie's.
Kellie was sprawling on her bed staring vacantly at the ceiling; she was re-thinking her plan now that Marte was going to be there. The plan had been to plead for Rose to return to the house to pick up her 'forgotten' school work. She needed unsupervised access so that she could hack her dad's home server, reconfigure it and setup a VPN link to use while she was away. That could be risky, with Rose standing over her and constantly questioning her every move. But if Marte where to go instead, she could send Marte shopping while she took care of the real stuff. It should have been easy, there had never been a time when Marte didn't seize a chance to shop.
It was then that she remembered her phone, with all the drama she'd switched it off and stashed in her school bag. Wow! She must have been totally freaked out by the events of the night. She had completely forgotten about it and now of course it was out of power. She was not the typical teenage girl whose social life centred on her phone, for her it was a tool for her work, she always used her tablet or a laptop at home. She plugged her phone into the charger and used her tablet instead.
She logged on to Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat and other social media sites. There were a slew of messages. She glanced through the good, the bad, and the vile. Most people wished her and the family well but there were always a few who said they hoped 'her dad would burn in hell, and her with him!” These were consigned to her “WTF” folder.
Occasionally there was something more worrying. Only a couple of days ago she'd had one that said 'I know who you are!' Followed shortly by 'I'm watching you!' All anonymous, of course. She wondered if it was from the guy who followed her. Obviously sent by a fan of slasher movies who suffered from a dire lack of imagination she concluded and she dismissed it.
Mostly though it was just weirdos, school-yard stuff, name calling, lies and threats. Like most motivated, successful people who just got on with their lives rather than dwelling on the envy of others. She'd given up on answering, explaining or even engaging with them that it was an invitation to send more abuse.
She updated the good ones, skipping the fact that she was not in Berlin and remembering to warn people that the phone was reserved for family only, she’d only call if she needed to speak to someone. Before sending she deactivated the GPS tracking system so no one could find her current location.
That done, she addressed the mystery of the phone calls in class. Was it related to the accident in some way or just chance and dumb bad luck that it someone decided to screw with her phone at that exact moment? Something told her even dumb luck couldn’t be that dumb, her dad always said was that 'there was no such thing as coincidence'. She had this feeling that she was missing something important.
She needed Solo, aka Frank Solomon, who was the nearest thing to a friend that she knew. They were not an item in a romantic sense, and claimed they had never had been, just friends with a shared passion for technology and hacking. She had known him since kindergarten, and he’d always been in her year in school. His mum died a few couple of years ago and since then she'd watched helplessly as he came slowly more distant and withdrawn. Like her he had Asperger's and neither of them had the understanding or the empathy to find comfort for themselves or one another at that point in their lives. They endured a lonely shared sadness as he mourned the loss of his mother and she mourned the loss of her only true friend. If he had been a micro-processor or some other circuit she could have debugged him and fixed him in no time: She knew the logic and the protocols, but he was a human being with feelings and she was no good with people skills and emotions. Neither of them were.
Looks wise, if the silent brooding look was what he was working for, he had it down. He was tall and wiry with hazel eyes, a tousled mane of long black hair a little longer than hers, usually in need of a decent shampoo and cut. He was not her type, but she knew girls who would kill for his looks, his eyes and hair, when it was washed. At school, his uniform had seen better days, otherwise he wore a regular nerd wardrobe of black denim with a slogan, 'Big Bang Theory', or rock-star 'metal' tee and scuffed trainers, to complete the look. He and Kellie were nicknamed 'the tech-twins', but not to anyone's face.
As she said, not her type but he was a brilliant hacker. He wasn’t into gaming he was really into the hardware, building his own processors and logic circuits, and he lived for hacking. The only time he seemed to be alive was when he was coding and hacking. He'd worked for her and her dad, coding and building prototype circuits on occasion. He hadn't been around for about a
month or so, she'd guessed he was concentrating on his exams of late, and with exams looming he'd become even more withdrawn than usual, but they didn't talk about it.
He was the most infuriating person she knew. He was always off school when she needed him and he never answered his calls when she phoned him. He obviously didn't care about her or her or her about him. It must be obvious to everyone, she insisted.
That's why she was a little hesitant to ask him at first. She'd contemplated asking a couple of the techies from the computer lab but found herself Skyping at him one more time instead.
“Why won't you answer my calls?”
“Wasn't near me computer and me phone's out of credit.”
“For **** sake!” She mumbled a profanity, “I'll send some funds.”
“Thanks.”
“I need your help to find what's screwed my phone.”
“You sure you're Kellie Turner, John Turner's dad?' He asked with a tinge of sarcasm, wondering why she couldn't fix it herself.
“Yes, Kellie Turner, John Turner’s dad,” she said. She was puzzled where he was coming from, “Look! I need help with my phone." She was not in the mood for games.
“I heard. Actually like, everyone heard," he snickered. It must have spread around the whole school if he had heard about it. She groaned audibly, she didn't know whether to kill the call, or curl up and die of embarrassment as the blood rushed to her cheeks. Thankfully, she didn't have to endure the fallout from the cell phone incident after school, courtesy of Aunt Rose. Bullet missed.
“OK, I’ll fix it for you, but it'll cost you, anyway, why can't your dad do it?” He bargained.
Ah! She hadn’t seen that coming, but he was no match for her.
“My dad is in an ICU in Germany, and you want to blackmail me!” She exclaimed, trying to hit the perfect mix of indignant and pitiful, and sniffed to heighten the emotional affect.
“Shi . . . Shoot! Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it right now,” he folded.
It would take a special, cold-hearted son of a gun to withstand her ‘maiden in distress’ ploy mixed with a dash of her own special emotional blackmail. She won hands down.
Was it a hint of arrogance or was it confidence she detected in his attitude? He hadn’t said he would try to find what was wrong with it, or even that he’d look at it, he said he would fix it! And he did! She downloaded him a dump of her phone and they Skype’d until it was done.
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long to solve. I hope you won’t get in trouble for cutting classes today," she apologised, “Why did you skip classes yesterday, dentist appointment?” she needled.
“No, went to the hospital. Don’t officially got classes 'til next week now. Sports injury," he volunteered, 'Sports injury my aunt Fanny!' The only 'sports injury' he's ever suffered would be a case of repetitive strain injury to his thumb from his game controller, she thought.
Anyway when they finally found out the cause of the phone problem she lost it on-screen, right there in front of him. They discovered code that her dad had hacked on her phone operating system to send an alert to the user in case of an emergency. Well Solo found it first, she just followed his instructions and read it. The hack bypassed all protocols and rang a special answer tone “Crazy in Love” regardless of the silent mode or anything else, only answering or power-off would stop it. It was her app, the one she wanted to show to Siemens. He'd obviously modified the phone and made it work. She knew he wouldn't demo it until it was fully tested but it was definitely her code, who else could have done it?
Forgetting for a moment that she was on camera, she cried in front of him. Her dad was trying to reach out to her, hurt and alone and she didn’t answer, she'd powered off. That moment would be forever seared into her memory. How could she ever forgive herself? How could she make it right? Silent tears rolled down her face as she sniffed and searched for a tissue.
“You all right"? Solo asked redundantly. He didn't know what was worse, his embarrassment at witnessing the scene or the fact that he didn't know what to do to help her.
“What do you think? Duh! Nerf.” she snapped, wiping the tears away with her fingers, trying not to smear her mascara and ending up with panda eyes.
It wasn’t his fault, but she’d forgotten he could see her on the link and she'd let her guard down in a moment of weakness and now she was annoyed that he’d caught her crying.
“Sorry. I think it's fantastic that you an' your dad are so close. It must be amazing to have a dad who actually cared. The only time my old man speaks to me is to swear at me an' hit me. That's really why I had to go to hospital, it wasn't really a 'sports injury'”. He confided indicating a black eye and swollen purple cheek.
She hadn't noticed the bruising earlier, as he'd been working with room lights behind his head to keep his face in shadow. She was fixing her face and planning her next move rather than listening.
He seemed to be compelled to share the story unaware that she was not listening. Now that the dam has been breached he couldn't stop gushing:'I'm trying to keep the house clean an' tidy. I cook his dinner every night, but he don’t care. He’s always telling me to get a job or get out. Weekends are the worst, I keep out of the house or lock my door when he starts drinkin'. That’s when he usually hits me, an' he trashes my computers' my course work." He stopped suddenly and seemed to think twice about what he’d just said, “Look, I’m exaggerating, it’s not that bad. Please don’t tell anyone. No one needs to know. I tell everyone it’s sports injuries. Forget it, forget I ever mentioned it. Please."
“Sorry!” She said uncertain what she was saying sorry for. She felt a twinge of guilt, but she was too wrapped in her own thoughts and it was easier to forget it. He said it himself ‘forget it.’ “Anyway, what was it that you were trying to blackmail me with?" She asked to twist the knife.
“Oh, it was nothing; I wouldn't really try to blackmail you."
“Oh stop it. Don't be silly, I don't really think you were trying to blackmail you. I owe you. What you want? Pizza?”
“I was just going to ask if I could store my projects an' course work at your place. You know in the house or the store in the garden."
“Is that it? No pizza? Of course you can. But you can't put anything in there until tomorrow. I'm at my aunt's and I'll need to change the alarm system, unless you want to get a visit from mister plod. I'll text you the PIN when I've done it and I'll put a spare key under the frog ornament in the pot with the olive tree."
“Er . . . What does an olive tree look like?”
“Really! You don't know what an olive tree looks like? It's on the patio in a large blue planter, its four to five feet tall and with a spiral trunk. Oh, just look for the big blue pot with a tree and a frog ornament in it."
“Sorry!"
“Stop saying sorry, you did good. You can help me again if you like. You don't have to if you think it's too risky but if you want to, I need you to set up an untraceable secure connection for tomorrow. I'll let you know when. I’m going for the German O2 cell system and Deutsche Telekom.
“Wow! That's heavy stuff. What are we getting into?"
She knew that he had classes tomorrow despite being laid off by the hospital he must have had a caution from school over the amount of time off he had taken, he couldn’t afford another day off. That could be a nice little dilemma for him to stew over. Why was she being so mean to him? Oh well! If he calls tomorrow OK, if not then she’d have to find someone else.
She was changing. She felt a sense of purpose now like a missionary zeal to make a difference. OK, that sounds idealistic and noble, like she had an epiphany or some higher motive. Sadly, it couldn’t be further than the truth. Her motive was hard cold revenge for the hurt to her dad, her mums suffering and all her family's pain all caused by that woman and her family. She was determined that someone would pay.
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If you'd like to see more of Fareham and where the story is based in these chapters, go to my Site https://www.nicahlacortes.com. For those who haven't seen it before, it houses a slide deck of locations and a video of West St, which most of the action centered on for these chapters.
Writing again soon,
Regards
nicah
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