Secret Family - Part Eight.

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Cover art: 3 girls laying across a bed with their legs in the air. Their hair falls over the edge of the bed. All three are wearing tee tops, the outer two are wearing denim with tears at the knees and the other wearing shorts. The room has a scandinavian vibe with white walls and pale wood around the window. From the window there is a scene of snow covered woodland.

Cover art: The cousins chillaxing

21.

“OMG! That wasn't there yesterday!” Anja stopped, staring and pointed at the car.

Marte rushed around the car. Her face dropped when she saw. The shock momentarily silenced her before she let rip a string of picturesque English adjectives that Anja had ever heard before. Maddie heard the commotion and came out to see what was happening. There was a big ugly scratch from the passenger-side headlight extending to the tail-lights. It looked like it had been scored with a screwdriver.

They all stood there dumbstruck by the ugly gash.

“Curse! Curse! Curse! Excuse my French.” Marte muttered. “You drive. I need to phone the nearest BWM dealer to find about getting this mess fixed and then I need to report it to the police again.” She told Anja.

As Anja drove to the dealership Marte phoned the police. The police didn't seem very enthusiastic about their chances of catching the perpetrator. They mentioned the tyre slashing was not random, there had been others nearby in the last few days. Apparently the block adjacent to the station had been subject to a number of alcohol fuelled attacks of vandalism involving cars and waste bins recently. They would send an officer to investigate as soon as possible. In the meantime if the repair shop took pictures of the damage it would help.

Marte realised that it wasn't going to go well when the foreman of the body-shop whistled. For once it wasn't the familiar wolf-whistle invoked by her male admirers and it wasn't her he was looking at. The whistle was accompanied was look of astonishment.

“Jealous wife or girlfriend I'd guess?” he quipped.

She gave him a withering look.

“Last time I saw keying that bad it was the customer's wife what did it.” He tried again. She shot him a toe-curling look of utter contempt.

“Spare me your witty comments please, I'm not in the mood thank-you. Just give me the estimate for the damage and how long it will take to repair it.” She started to photograph the damage as he walked around the car.

“Do you want the other damage done at the same time?”

“What! What other damage?” She she swore under her breath. Anja trailed behind them. “Oh! I didn't see that.” She said.

“There's three dents, looks like from steel toe capped shoes; the headlight is cracked and the stop-light on the passenger side.”

“C***! Mum and dad are going to go ballistic. You might as well include everything.” She was fighting not to burst into tears. She dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue trying to avoid her make-up from smearing.

Anja hugged her. 'We don't seem to be having much luck with cars, do we.”

“It least no one was trying to kill us. Until I give this estimate to my parents anyway.” She paused to think, “Sorry! My big mouth again; I wasn't thinking.” Her shoulders sagged as she sighed in despair.

“Don't worry. You just said what I was thinking. Come on, coffee, cake and shopping that's what you need, in that order.”

Anja consoled her and kissed her on the cheek.

“Have you seen Yoda this morning?” Kellie asked looking at his full cat bowl.

“No. He's probably upstairs.” Maddie told her.

“Solo. You seem Yoda?” She shouted up the stairs. Maddie frown and tutted her.

“He's not up here.” He yelled.

“Check in the girl's rooms will you.”

“Not there.”

“It's not like him to miss his feed.”

“Don't worry, he'll turn up when he gets hungry. You know what cats are like.” Maddie calmed her.

“He must be hungry by now, he's missed his breakfast feed.” Kellie said she went into the garden to call him. She searched the garden, the store, and up and down the track behind the gardens calling him. She had just returned when she got a call from Solo.

“Where'd you find him?” She called as she pounded up the stairs.

“You need t' see this,” he said, “It's in your Facebook.”

“OMG! You're in my Facebook account?”

“I check it everyday for you. You never look at it unless I remind you. Some of our customers follow you on social you know.”

“True. I never thought about that. But you need . . .”

“ Kellie! Just shut-up and look.” He pointed at the screen.

It was a selfie of someone hiding their face in the shadow of a hoodie and in his arms was Yoda. The picture was captioned 'wish u were here'.

“It's bin spoofed. It says it was sent from yer mum. Obviously she didn't send it at four AM this mornin'. No one was logged onto the network at that time. I checked.

“OMG!” She glanced between Solo and the screen. “OMG!” She repeated. She was shocked into silence.

“I'm running enhancement routines, but I don't think it's gonna help. It wus a c*** picture to start. I put it in the WTF folder an' remembered 'nice pussy' email a couple a days ago.”

“OMG!” She said.

“Kellie!” He shook her arm. “Kellie, you're in ground-hog mode, Bae! Come on Kellie.”

“Did you just call me Bae?”

“Wasn't me.” He lied.

“Well don't!”

“I'm working on the picture. You scan the video to see what might have bin picked-up by the cameras.” He said changing the subject.

“He's frightened.” She said.

“Who?”

“Yoda, he looks frightened, he's scared.”

“I'm sorry I can't do any more with the picture. You got anythin' from the vid's.”

“Yeah. In the garden. Someone was in the garden, but it's hard to see who or what's happening.”

“Low-res. It's ****!”

“OK, you upgrade the security system. Hi-res, lo-light and infra-red everything. I'll print some flyers and post a reward.”

“That's gonna cost!”

“Whatever, just do it!”

“Boss.” He muttered.

“Huh! You better not have just called me bae again!”

“Huh!”

“What are you two arguing over now?” Maddie attempted to make the peace.

“Solo – Yoda's – called – bin – me – kidnapped - bae.” They said trying to shout above one another. Kellie stuck her tongue out at Solo who rolled his eyes in response and muttered. ”Nice, very mature. You gonna put that back in your mouth are you?”

“OK, One at a time.” Maddie's eyebrows arched and she frowned as she made sense of it. It was going to be a long day. She pointed to Solo.

“Yoda's bin kidnapped.” He said.

Maddie pointed at Kellie.

“He called me bae.”

“She calls me nerf.”

“Enough! Enough with the name calling, let's agree that no one calls anyone a bae, whatever that is, or a Nerf, and let's try to concentrate on finding Yoda.” Maddie said firmly getting control of the situation.

The Mini was gone when he returned to his toward base. He'd fixed it in the dead of the night just before he'd kidnapped the cat. He was ticked-off that he'd missed her go in the morning. He'd been looking forward to seeing her face when she saw the damage to her precious car. Now he'd have to wait until she came back. He settled in to wait and plan. They'd be back. Now, after he'd calmed down and had a nights sleep, he almost regretted his actions.

He was annoyed with himself. He had been so focused on following the girls he hadn't noticed anyone following him. He'd originally planned to capture the BB and play with her until he tired of her. Teach her a lesson she'd never forget. Then he'd seen the German twin, and he wanted to have her too, and he'd nearly managed it too. They were in the van, and they were looking at the drinks and snacks when those meddling coppers stuck their noses in. Now, instead of catching the two girls he'd got a couple of traffic tickets, and he was going to be in a world of pain when the old man found out about it.

They would be worth it though, the BB and the twins. Of course he knew they weren't really twins but at least they were related, cousins. He'd seen their social media pages. Memorized them. The twins, they were practically identical, except that one of them had her hair done differently now, shorter, more boyish, with lighter and darker streaks here and there. He was mad at her for that, she'd spoiled it for him. He'd teach them how he wanted her to do it, definitely longer and blonder. He guessed she was the English one, Kellie. The other one, Anja was German. The blonde bombshell was Marte and she was part Norwegian, like Scarlett Johansen but better. Wasn't she just. No matter, he didn't like to use or even think of them having names it was better that way. Objectify them; they were her and them or the BB and the Twins.

She'd parked on the hard standing in front of the house. There they all together, all three of them and that damn pup. She was driving, the twins in the back. His enjoyment at seeing them was marred by pup being there. Little Frankie, Frank jnr or the 'pup' as he called him, was in the front next to her. He named him the pup because he was always trailing along behind them like some big stupid puppy dog. He resented the 'pup', he was always there, always in the way, always making a nuisance of himself, fawning over them, pawing them.

He held the hand of one of twins as she got out of the car. He held the other one's arm as she went into the porch. 'Pervert.' he mouthed. They were dressed almost identically, torn black jeans and 'rock' tee-shirts, only the band's names were different. He guessed the German one was wearing the German band's tee. The 'twins', apart they were desirable, together they were irresistible. It should be him who was in the car with them, not that damn pup. He hated him. He couldn't wait for the chance to fix him.

The 'pup' touched the small of the BB's back as he ushered her inside the door. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he keep his hands to himself? It was almost more than he could bear. They were his, how dare that cur touch them? How could they talk and laugh with that sorry dog instead of him? His jealousy flared. The 'pup', he would pay for that; He'd preserve be a special place in hell for him. He sat there in the failing light obsessing over that last sight off him touching her back. He'd touched her bare skin where the small of her back swelled out over her soft, smooth, hips and buttocks. He was shocked at seeing her shorts. They were mid-blue denim cut-offs, short, tight and frayed at the legs making the most of her long, slim sun-kissed legs. They were too short, too tight! She'd worn them with a simple,cut-off white tee-shirt, tied under the bust that clung to her curves. He hated it; It wasn't proper. What did she think she was doing? She should be covered. She looked cold in the evening sun. Was that goose-bumps he spotted on her bare arms? Did he detect a hint of nipple under her tee? Was she wearing a bra? She looked sensational. He was appalled; She was making an exhibition of herself. The way her fair hair was reflected in the setting sun as she tossed her hair proudly. She was disrespecting him, taunting him. Other men could see her; She was only for him. She was the vision of a Viking blonde goddess. He was transfixed, he couldn't take his eyes away from her.

He reviewed the vision over and over, in his mind like a slow motion replay as he lay in his bed and each time it got worse. The wanting welled-up from within him. It was becoming unbearable. It was an itch that ached to be scratched. He needed to scratch it, he needed to vent his fury and break something, or someone. He wanted to fix the cat. The damn thing had peed on him in fright when he grabbed it. He'd locked it in the storeroom for now. He could torment them with it now and maybe even make a little money for his trouble.

He'd missed the five of them slipping out the back earlier as they went to post the flyers. They all agreed Yoda had been kidnapped, but they hoped someone would be tempted by the promise of a reward for information. Maddie directed the operation, insisting that they remained within her sight at all times. It reminded her of taking Kellie treat or tricking at Halloween when she was little.

They started at the train station where Solo and Kellie asked the station staff if they'd seen Yoda and were allowed to post flyers. Meanwhile Marte and Anja went to the Fire Station. As expected the firemen hadn't seen Yoda but were happy to spread the word for the girls. Then the two girls visited the retirement flats and all the houses along Gordon Road. Solo and Kellie visited everyone in West Street as far as Derlyn Road.

Marte was adamant she didn't want to visit or even see Solo's dad ever again so Solo and Kellie canvassed Derlyn Road. Solo knocked on his dad's door but there was no answer. He put a flyer through the letterbox.

“He'd be at the yard or on a call-out at this time day,” his neighbour told them.

Finally they visited every house in Grove Road and the retirement flats before returning home by the back entrance. Satisfied they had done their best they hoped and waited. Kellie continuously monitored the social pages and numbers she'd setup.

Stressed about Yoda, Kellie found she wasn't able to concentrate on work. Feeling depressed, sick and unable to eat, she had to do something. She decided to work on tracing the previous message about Yoda. It was anonymous and sent from an anonymizer service, but she had to do something. She knew it was a long shot, but she started to hack the service..

Finally, after several fruitless hours she got a response from the flyers. Actually she got several. One was from someone who had lost her cat and was worried about her cat could have suffered a similar fate. Two were from trolls, indulging their sick fantasies. Another was from someone who said they knew where Yoda was, but without offering any proof and demanding an outrageous 'reward' for his return. Finally, there was a single picture of Yoda cowering in a corner looking terrified. The caption read, 'Missing you! Let's play hide n seek' and a heart emoji.

She was livid. She knew it was genuine immediately. She despatched all but the last one to the WTF folder. 'Think this is a game do you?' She thought. 'Think it's funny? I'll play your sick game and I'll rip your pathetic little heart to pieces.' She'd been mad now she would get even.

She started on a forensic analysis of the message and its meta data. Meanwhile, Solo got back to the task of updating the cameras for the security system. After a few minutes Kellie announced the message was genuine but had been routed through a temporary anonymous account again so the trail was dead for now. It could take days to hack the server. She decided to use brain power instead.

She realised she had been looking at it the wrong way. Instead of spending hours tracing who sent the messages, she should be finding where the pictures were taken. The odds were they were taken using a cell-phone. That meant unless the user was tech-savvy and knew which services to switch off, the pictures would have metadata, and hopefully geotagging data. It was the same technique she'd used to track Anja when she was hiking in America.

There were two pictures of Yoda and they both had almost identical geotags. Pulling-up the tags on Google showed a map of Fareham with a pointer to Fortnums. It had been a car showroom until it closed months earlier, and to her knowledge its should be empty. It was literally across the road from her house.

“I think I found Yoda.” Kellie shouted to Solo.

“Where?”

“The geotags from the pictures said they were taken in the old car sales place opposite.”

“You think he's still there?” He shouted, he was using to install a new security sensor.

“I'm about to find out.” Kellie ducked into her room on the way down stairs.

“No you're not. Only if I go with you.” He wobbled precariously on the ladder as he descended the steps and hurried to catch-up with her.

Following the sound of the shouting the met two girls waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “Where we going?” They asked.

“I don't think it's a good idea to rush off without thinking it through.” Solo said.

“What's to think about? Yoda's in there and I'm getting him out.”

“What if someone is in there? Shouldn't we call the Police or the RSPA or someone?”

“That's too bad for them? But, you're right we should call someone. Call them an ambulance! They'll need it when I find them.” She said as she pushed past them heading toward the door.

“OK. We'll all go but let's be organised about it. First, only two people should go in an' the other two keep guard outside, an' be ready to help us if we need it. Everyone wears disposable latex gloves so' not to contaminate the crime scene. Kellie an' me will go in. Everyone have your phones ready to film whatever happens.”

Solo jimmied the back door and stuck his head in.

“OMG! It smells like something died there.” he said.

“Don't say that you great nerf!” She said as she punched her hard in the back and shoved him out the way. She coughed as she tried to get her breath. The stench was palpable.

She turned on the torch app on her phone and rushed to the left-hand side. While Solo methodically filmed the interior of the showroom and its contents, Kellie ran through to room trying all the doors one by one, looking for signs of Yoda. She found him cowed in the back of a store room next to the fetid toilet.

“Found him!” She cried.

He growled and spat at her as she when to pick him up. Despite getting scratched in his attempts to wriggle free she hung-on thankful for the gloves. He settled down purring loudly as he realised it was her. She carried him out to the daylight. His fur was dirty and matted but otherwise he appeared unhurt by his ordeal. At home again he attacked his bowl like he hadn't eaten for days. Then he headed upstairs to sleep in his safe place, under Kellie bed.

It hadn't been a good day at work. The old man had been all over him since he'd heard he'd been pulled over by the police for speeding on the M27. He didn't know how he'd found-out, but he had. He knew about the girls too somehow. He was in a bad mood and he showed it.

Although he didn't know who they were, the old man was always suspicious when it came to Wayne and girls. He knew he was lying when he said he didn't know them. He knew it, but he could prove it. He knew the girls had been driving a Mini, and he remembered that bitch of Solo's had a Mini. If he'd know for certain was her and her cousin he would have knocked him into the next week right then and there. There was enough bad blood between his family and the Turners. Huh! They'd keep. Meanwhile he'd have to keep close watch of things.

The old man had locked the keys to the vehicles in the safe, and immobilised the backhoe in front the compound gates before he went home for the night.

“Don't yuh ****in' lie t' me.” The old man shouted spitting saliva on both of them. “Yuse *****in' stayin' 'ere. Yer grounded 'til I *****in' tol you uverwise. Yer lyin' welp.”

The old man saw his eyes narrowing and his fists clench. He leaned closer, shook his ham of a fist growling in his face, barging him down with his arm. Unprepared, the younger man stumbled back tripping falling on his butt in the gravel.

“Punk!” He sneered and turned to his truck.

“Nite boss.” the fitter and his mate shouted as they drove out of the yard. They were glad to be out of it for the night.

The old man drove off after him in a cloud of dust. Being bested by the old b*****d in front of the fitters was unbearable. His anger welled up. He screamed obscenities at the settling cloud of dust and swung punches at his back. His eyes welled up in anger and humiliation. He swore he'd fix the old b*****d.

It was time for the guard dogs to get fed and released for the night. One of them trotted toward happily to him, he tail wagging in anticipation. The other lay in a posture of complete submission, cowering, whimpering quietly, its head down, its eyes pleading.

“*****n' dog!” He spat as he cuffed it across its muzzle and kicked out viciously at the unsuspecting animal. It sprung back and yelped in pain as it slunk back, its tail between it legs. Its companion lay still, ears flat, eyes closed; It had seen, and felt, this before.

He slammed the door of the caravan, threw himself on the settee, and punched a cushion. He kept punching until he tired of it and threw it across the room. That wasn't going to it! He needed another outlet for his pent up anger and frustration. It wasn't fair. He hadn't done anything. OK, he was speeding, but that was all. He hadn't hurt anyone. He hadn't touched them. He'd helped them. Now he was stuck here in the back of ****n' nowhere with b***** all to do all night.

He thought about the keys, they were all locked in the safe in the workshop. Even if he broke into the workshop he'd never be able to get into the safe. Beside the backhoe was parked across the yard gates and the miserable s*d had removed the battery as well. He was stuffed. God he wanted to hurt something or someone..

He looked around the caravan. Maybe he could vent some of his pent-up anger be a game on his Xbox. A shoot 'em up. No that wouldn't do it. He wanted someone to share his pain and frustration. He wanted real blood, real suffering.

He heard the pigeons cooing in the yard. He cursed the damned pigeons, flying rats they were. He hated pigeons. He wished he could kill them all. Well he could kill these. He got the gun out and stuck the barrel through the widow. He missed. They flew off flapping feathers falling like giant snowflakes. He'd been close.

He thought about shooting rabbits or rats. It was the wrong time of day for rabbits or rats, but cats. Yes, cats were a possibility. The trouble was the cat he wanted was in town at the old car showroom. It attacked him, and scratched him whenever he'd tried to feed it. This time he'd feed it a special treat. The condemns final meal. He'd even video it so they could watch it and enjoy it with them.

Yes, he'd finally remembered the cause of all his troubles, the girls. It was time to make them suffer a bit. If he had to suffer they should too. Should he do it at the scrapyard or the car showroom. He'd decide later, first he needed a plan to get there. By the time he'd dug his old bike out of the shed and repaired the puncture it was getting dark. No problem, he had all night.

They were all together in the family room having coffee after dinner when Tim called. He'd called to ask if he could come down for the weekend, he and Alrik wanted to book a video conference with the family. That way everyone would see and hear at the same time, except from Rose and Per of course who were second honeymooning. Kellie and Solo assured him the call was routine; They teleconferenced with Siemens all the time.

“How are you getting on with translating the documents from Oma Hope?” Tim asked.

“That's been on the back burner for a few days. We've been too busy with other stuff.” Solo told him.

“I think it's all part of a novel that she was writing. A good story but a bit Indiana Jones. A bit over the top.” Kellie told him.

“Well send me what you've got please and lets see what I can make of it.”

“OK.”

“Anja, have you found anything more about Oma Vera? What do you know about your family history?”

“Only what I told you earlier. I live in Siemensstadt and go to ESCP. I don't remember my dad; He died before I was two. My mama used to work at Siemens. My Oma lived in East Germany before unification as did my Urgroßmutter. My Tolle große survived the Ravensbrück death camp during the war. She would never talk about it. The rest of the family died during the war except for the twins. It was all she would talk about; She was convinced they were alive and she'd never stopped searching for them.”

“And that's all you know about them?”

“Yes. Why? You are worrying me. Is there something else I should know?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“OMG. Is it that bad?”

“I wouldn't put it that way,” Tim said, “Alrik has been searching the old records with me and has uncovered what happened when the twins vanished. From what he told he so far it's hardly the plot of a cosy mystery. Remember war was raging and they were literally fighting for their lives. Love is still missing and that fact may indicate that she has paid the ultimate price.”

“OMG! I never thought about that.” Marte teared up.

“More dark secrets?”

“Let's save it to the weekend.”

After Tim hung-up Solo went to his room and called him back. He explained about the damage to Marte's car, Yoda's kidnapping, what he'd seen across the road and his suspicions.

“You're right to mention it to me but I imagine they are worrying how you found him so quick and what else you might know. How did you do it, by the way?”

“It was Kellie,” he told him.

“She's a smart cookie alright. Tell me all about in on the weekend It's Wednesday I'll be coming down on Saturday. Don't worry we'll talk then and sort out what to do about it then. In the meantime, just keep your eyes and ears open.

He knew he'd been screwed as soon as he saw the damaged lock on the back door. He ran to the storeroom, and threw it open. There was a series of flashes as a camera snapped a series of pictures. He grabbed the camera, and fixed it, throwing it on the floor and stomping on it.

He knew the cat was gone. Not just gone. It had been rescued. That little bitch had found the damn cat and rescued it. How the hell had she done that? And now she had evidence, pictures of him. The little witch! She'd beaten him. She'd suckered him! He frantically searched the debris of the camera looking for the memory card. He couldn't find it. He gathered-up all the bits he could find. He'd have to find it among the debris later.

First he needed to fix those three little bitches. No, make that four little bitches, he'd fix that ******* pup too. He'd fix them all. He'd fix them good!

Email from Oma Ritter to Anja

Dear Anja, I hope you and your new family are well.

I am still trying to find for was Oma Love. We checked the records at Ellis Island without success. I was pleased to find from one of me friends that there are other records from other ports. We are looking at the records of passenger lists for Boston, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Miami, and Key West. I don't think the last two are likely destinations from Portugal, but we'll check them out anyway.

I sent some Facebook messages about the Twin's story and a local newspaper wants to you to contact her about it. It could help you the reach-out to more people. Anja copied it to the other two girls and everyone agreed it would be worth a try.

His foul mood worsened. By the time he'd cycled from the scrapyard to town, Aldi was on the verge of closing. He noticed the night manager hanging around watching his every move while trying not to appear obvious of his actions. A couple of late shift shelf-packers were restocking the wine and spirits nearby. The store security guard stood at the end of the aisle openly watching him. He was outnumbered. Ordinarily he would be up for a fight given the kind of mood he was in. He wouldn't have cared about to odds but tonight was special, he had to remember that he had a job to do.

He cursed aloud as he went to the checkout and bought a bottle of cheap vodka. He necked a couple of swigs it as he left the store and mounted his bike. Wobbling and weaving along the pavement toward the showroom as he downed another swallow. He ached to break something, but he couldn't risk the questions if the police got involved. He kicked out at the Kwik-Fit sign almost losing his balance from the force.

A movement down the alley caused him to stop. He watched in the darkness. A cat was prowling in the access road between Kwik-Fit and the bike shop. Hunting: Me too. He felt a common bond with predators hunting together. It pounced on a mouse or vole. A remorseless predator he'd almost mistaken it as prey. Fortunate for it, it was a tabby and not white. Wrong cat. Lucky this time. He wondered if crossing his path tonight would still count toward to its nine lives. He pointed two fingers and his thumb like a gun and shot it, blew the pretend smoke away and smiled to himself at the thought.

He glared angrily at the house as he passed it on the other side of the road. The house they lived in. His prey for tonight, her cat, or one of the girls; Someone was going to run out of lives tonight. Who, or what, he was easy about that. There were more ways to skin a cat he thought. Amused by his wit he laughed under his breath and raised the bottle to his lips again. Momentarily distracted he wobbled violently, collided with the wall pitching over it.

******! He cursed. He glanced around checking no one witnessed his embarrassment. No one noticed.

“****!” He looked down at his broken bottle. “****! ****!, ****!” he threw the empty remains across the forecourt. He kicked the bike, stupid thing. He heard the tinkle of metal on tarmac as something fell-off. He didn't have the time to find it now. ******* heap of junk!

Waste of good vodka. It wasn't vodka he'd planned to break tonight. He picked-up his bike and limped around behind the showroom. His knee hurt. In the dark alley with no working street lights he noticed his hand felt slick it hurt when he opened the door. His hand was bleeding. Inside he wiped the blood off his hand with a dirty rag he'd found. He tried to staunch the flow of blood and taped the wound with duct-tape. His hand was throbbing now, his knee too. He must have smashed it into the wall when he's fallen. His jeans were torn and bloodied. He looked at his knee, it was grazed, swollen, and throbbed a good-un. He wound tape tightly around it over his jeans. It was causing him to limp as he walked. He yelped and cussed as pain jolted his leg when he bent it to sit. The thought that a shot or two of vodka to ease his pain and discomfort did nothing to improve his humour.

He settled to wait and watch. It was too early: It would hours before he could execute the plan. 'Execute', he grinned at the thought of it. The throbbing pain from his hand and leg just wouldn't give him any relief. He'd planned to get a couple of hours sleep; He wanted to be fresh for the big event, the execution. He smiled in anticipation. He tried to think of something else to distract him from the pain but he couldn't. The girls, it was all their fault, they'd screwed-up everything. He hated them, he needed to teach them. He'd break them; He'd bend them to his will. They'd be his. They'd see.

22.

“Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no. Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no.” The strains of Beyonce starting to sing echoed in her ears as she relieved her worst nightmare. It was louder than usual, she thought.

“Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no...” she heard again. It seemed further away this time. No, something wasn't right.

“Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no...” The refrain started. This time she was wide-awake and hyper-ventilating. Near to panic she struggled into her jeans and jumper as Maddie threw-open the door as phone after phone joined the chorus.

She grabbed Kellie bundling her toward the stairs. “Straight out the side door, wait in the garden.” she shouted and turning down the corridor to the other bedrooms. The lights failed, leaving them in pitch darkness, causing Maddie to squeal. Quickly the dim emergency lights flickered into life and bathing the house in an eerie glow. Then they dimmed and died.

Someone switched their phone torch on. Marte was pulling her dressing gown on and Anja wearing a long baggy woolly jumper stumbled bleary eyed into the corridor in confusion.

“Side door, wait in the garden.” Maddie commanded.

Solo emerged from his room, his hair messed and flattened by sleep. He was carrying a tee shirt in one hand while struggling to fasten his jeans. His room was the furthest along the corridor.

“Follow me.” Maddie shouted.

“Yoda. He was on my bed earlier. I checked under the bed.” Solo called as he ran from room to room.

“Its Yoda, he would be the first escape if there was any danger.”

He caught-up with Maddie on the stairs. The side door was open. It was the fastest route to safety. Without lingering in the kitchen they escaped into the garden.

Maddie had taken a couple steps towards the garden before she realised that Solo was not with her. She retraced her steps calling for him, panicking that he had fallen or been hurt it some way. The house was plunged into darkness again. Maddie jumped and squealed again her cry was followed by a full throated scream as something brushed past her in the inky darkness. A male voice grunted a curse of surprise along with the sound of fingernails scraping on the wall.

A stampede of feet accompanied with cries of “Mum!” and “Maddie!” rung out in panic as the girls ran back toward the door.

The alarm fell silent and a light switched back on in the passageway showing two people facing-off, both blinking in the sudden brightness. Maddie with fists clenched was crouched to defend herself. A step further was Solo was stood beside the door to open utility room with one arm extended fending off an invisible attacker in front of him and his other hand on the light switch.

The girls piled into the door and stopped in amazement at the scene of Maddie and Solo appearing to be in a stand-off.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Kellie demanded.

Marte started laughing at the absurdity of the scene. “I can't decide if they are trying to fight or dance with one another.”

Maddie and Solo relaxed against the wall in relief.

“I bumped into someone in the dark.”

“I cleared the alarms an' fixed the lights.”

“And scared the living daylights out of each other by the sight of it.” Marte giggled.

“That wasn't funny.” Solo mumbled, embarrassed and red faced.

“My nerves can't stand much more of this.” Maddie said looking like she meant it. “Come on. We still need to get out. There's still a fire at the front of the house.” She waved her arms trying to shepherd them all out.

They could hear the sirens from the Fire Station. The sirens stopped, to be replaced by the sounds of commands being issued. The blue lights were flashing. They seemed to light the whole night bathing the scene with a pulsating blue hue.

“No! This way!” She pointed them to back garden.

The back garden was flooded with light from the security system. The three girls huddled together in the middle of the garden staring that the path between the house and the fence. Maddie thought she'd seen someone lurking at the back of the garden but she convinced herself it must had been a shadow. At the same moment there was a crash from the front. They turned behind as the blue lights seemed to flash brighter. Moments later the silhouette of two bulky firemen emerged from the shadows of the path. They'd smashed the side gate to get access.

“Is everyone out?” One of them called, “Anyone hurt?”.

“Yes, we're all safe. No, no-one’s hurt.” Maddie answered.

The firemen directed them to follow him toward the back of the garden. As he reached to store there was a crackle and a whooshing noise. A sound that would make your blood freeze. They all heard it. Milliseconds later flames shot from inside the store. The leading fireman ducked as the flames threatened to engulf him. He sheltered them with his body as he herded them back to the centre of the garden.

The first fireman turned back to the fire as another three rushed to assist their colleague dragging a hose to douse the store. The family was led back to the front of the house past a partially melted council waste bin and where the fire at the front of the house had been extinguished. There was dirty black smoke stains covering the porch but it appeared to have suffered little more than superficial smoke damage. However the same could not have been said for Marte's car.

They stared at the damage. Marte's car was a blackened shell. Kellie retched at the smell of burned rubber. The blood drained from her face. She was panting. She looked around wildly and pushing Anja out of her way she threw-up against the garden wall. Anja hung onto her and steadied her as she too wretched without actually vomiting. The shared a look as they both remembered pictures of another car fire. They hugged one another as they wept in one another's arms in a display of their shared grief. Marte too was in shock. Stunned in silence she contemplated the carnage, her mouth gaping, unable to form an intelligible sentence. The tracks of her tears stained her face and she hung-tight to Maddie.

The road outside the house had been closed. The police had put-up diversion signs at the roundabout. A few people living in the flats opposite watched through their windows as the drama unfolded. A paramedic arrived to attend the injured. He treated the three girls for shock as they sat outside in a police cruiser.

Solo appeared untouched by the events of the night. As he wandered around he heard snippets of conversations.

“Definitely arson.”

“The front door lock was super-glued.”

“Deliberate!”

“Accelerant!”

“Someone tried to kill them and nearly got two of my crew too.”

“It was a trap.”

“I heard the mini was damaged a couple of times in the last few days.

“Slashed and keyed.”

“Someone's harbouring a grudge.”

Solo listened as the police and the firemen were talking. He decided to keep it to himself: No need to alarm the girls. He'd tell Tim first thing in the morning. Tim would know what to do, especially about his suspicions.

Eventually the Fire Crew Commander gave the scene the all clear and they were allowed to enter the house again. The house itself was not damaged other than smoke damage to front door. The two cars and the store were write-offs. The police wanted to talk to everyone about what had happened and told them that an officer would be stationed there it guard them and the house until the CSI crew arrived in the morning. The front porch and the store were festooned with crime scene tape.

No-one wanted to go to bed. Marte and Maddie brewed cocoa for everyone. Kellie and Anja were cuddled together under a blanket while Solo stood apart watching the scene.

“Do you want me to tell your parents for you?” Maddie asked Marte.

“It's OK I'll tell them.” She paused thinking. “But after they get back. Let's allow them to enjoy their second honeymoon first. They only flew-out yesterday. Well today now actually it you think about the time difference. Or was that yesterday? I've lost track. Anyway, if we tell them now they'll come back, it'll ruin their honeymoon, and there's nothing that they can do anyway. No one was hurt and it's an insurance write-off.”

“I'm not completely sure I'm happy about that, but if you're sure. I know that they have been planning and talking about it more months. It would be a shame if it was ruined it for them now.”

“Yeah, they can ground me for the rest of my life when they get back.”

“I'm sure they wouldn't do that. It wasn't your fault.”

“It's on my insurance policy but dad pays for it. That's three claims in the last few days. Mum and Dad are going to kill me. They'll divorce me or whatever they call it.” She was trying to find the right word. It wasn't easy given the circumstances. “Disavow me, no disown!” she blurted, “They'll disown me”

“I think the worst thing they can do is to decline your insurance cover but I doubt it would come to that. We'll sort it out together.”

“It's a good thing that we were only a few yards from the Fire Station. They said the first responders ran down the road with fire extinguishers.”

“Why didn't the house alarm go-off?”

“I never heard the house alarm go-off at all!”

“My phone woke me up, with that damn 'Crazy in Love', Beyonce song.”

“I hate that song!”

“I'm sorry it was me.” Solo confessed. “It did trigger but after everything else. The car alarmed fired first 'cause it was on fire first or maybe because the window was smashed. The house alarm didn't trigger until it sensed the house was on fire. We need to fix that. Sorry!”

“No, don't say sorry. You're right, we're all alive and well because of you. If it was anyone's fault it was mine. I should have checked everything when we finished.” Kellie said.

“It doesn't matter. It worked and we're all alive.” Maddie insisted.

“Can we stop talking about it. I want to throw-up whenever I think about it.” Kellie implored.

“Me too. I saw the pictures of my burned-out car where my mama died.” Tears were burning her eyes.

“I saw them too!” Kellie confessed. “I can't get them out on my mind.” She started crying again.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't know.” Anja stroked the back of Kellie head.

“It wasn't your fault.” Kellie muttered.

Maddie smiled to herself. Maybe Kellie had made a breakthrough and conquered her demons. She hoped.

“Well, that didn't go to ****in' plan!” He spoke out loud his words echoed in the darkness.

“***k it!.” He vented at the empty streets.

It had been an unmitigated disaster. Right from the start, when the old man took his keys and had kept going downhill until now. He reviewed what had happened on the 'mission' so far.

He'd just had a bit of bad luck, it had to change soon, right.

The dumb cat dodged him in the garden and dove through the cat-flap to escape him. He won though. It had been trapped inside, when he sealed the cat-flap with duct-tape. His hand got jammed inside when he'd dropped the home-made fire bomb inside and ignited the petrol stored there. That was how he'd got the burns, it had exploded in his hands and melted his makeshift duct tape dressing into the wound. Well it stopped bleeding, now it just hurt like stink. The explosion nearly took-out a fireman and the girls too. He'd got the cat though. In the fire. He celebrated. Not all bad. That'll teach them. Time for him to make himself scarce.

Then he was gasping, sucking-in great gulps of cold air, his mouth gaping, his eyes narrowed with effort; Despite the cold at that time of night his clothes were drenched, he was sweating profusely. The first section had been mostly uphill. His stiff leg was troubling him, it had started bleeding again; He re-tied it with a rag he'd found in the showroom. He could scarcely bend it to pedal on the flat. Uphill the pain was almost more that he could bare. He couldn't ride. He managed to hobble up the slopes clinging onto his bike for support. As soon as he got to Kiln Road he could rest he'd promised himself, it was mainly downhill from there. His hand throbbed too. His fingers had fused together with the tape to form a claw. The hand was useless, he had no grip in it at all. It hurt so bad he could hardly bare to rest it on the handlebars. It seemed that every bump and jolt in the road made him wince out loud.

He freewheeled the last few yards to Kiln Lane before collapsing against a wall trying to catch his breath. It wasn't that difficult last time he rode that way he recalled, it must be the injuries. He was exhausted, shivering, and sweating, both at the same time. He felt nauseous from the pain and strain.. The constant sucking for air left his throat dry and his chest sore. He needed to get home and in bed. If there was a moment when he needed that bottle of vodka it was then. Steeling himself for action again he managed to mount his bike again. It was downhill for a while now he congratulated himself, nearly there.

The constant jarring from the rough road surface was taking its toll on his leg and his hand. Every bump and rut sent an electric shock searing from his hand and up his arm causing him to cry out in pain; He couldn't see to avoid the ruts and pot-holes in the darkness. It took all his effort to concentrate on missing the worst patches, and only having one hand to steer with wasn't making it any better. That's probably why he didn't realise where he was until it was too late.

Funtley Hill is steep. Travelling west, Kiln road follows the brow of the ridge until it turns at ninety degrees right. Then straight downhill to the bottom where it turns ninety degrees left, before continuing west again through the village, and along the valley floor. It is one of the steepest hill in the area. To even attempt it in the darkness you'd need good nerves, good lights, and better brakes. He had none.

Of course he did realise that until he was fully committed to the descent. Just as he'd failed to realise his injury would render his grip was too feeble to squeeze the brake lever with one hand, and the excessive pressure, he was placing on the damaged linkage on the other, would cause it to fail. He remembered that sound when he'd kicked his bike. He knew then what it was now. What else was waiting to fall off?

He knew his was already going dangerously fast. Bailing off at that speed was not an option, especially with his right hand and left leg already severely compromised. He had a plan; hang on and pray. He could remember hanging-on as the bike bucked and bounced down the hill totally out of control.

Somehow he made it. The feeling of relief when he'd made down safely was immediately followed by one of certainly that he could not make the turn at the bottom that speed. In a moment of panic he tensed and lost his concentration. He could do this. He'd seen it in the movies. It was easy. As easy as falling off a bike.

He enjoyed a moment of peace, the cool night breeze on his face as he was airborne before the the jarring pain in his hand and leg, followed the searing agony as he straddled the handlebars on landing. He must have passed-out. He didn't remember getting home or what had happened to his bike. He did remember this weird dream of him getting the rifle and loading it.

Solo leaped to his feet like a scalded cat. He'd only closed his eyes for a second. “Who are you? What do you want?” Solo demanded positioning himself between to family and the stranger who had suddenly appeared beside the kitchen island.

“I'm a police officer. I'm here to take your statements.”

“How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough.”

He asked if there was a private room where he could conduct his interviews and take statements. Maddie showed him to the front sitting room. He spoke to each of them in turn starting with Maddie,

She told that she had been woken by her phone playing 'Crazy in Love', she could see a light flicking behind the bedroom window. Her rooms are at the front of the house. She looked through the curtains and saw that Marte's car was on fire right in front of the house. She woke everyone and got them out into the garden. Then two firemen tried to lead them to safety but the store erupted with fire just as they were passing it and they were forced back. Finally more firemen with a hose put the fire out.

He questioned her about the events. Which rooms did she go into? Who was where? Why did she tell the others to use the side door? Did she try any other doors? Did she know if the alarms were set? Did she know if there was a security recording and where was it? She answered his questions and told him where the security recording was.

Then it was the next person’s turn. Marte's interview lasted longer than Maddie and the other girls. She had to answer questions about the slashed tyres and the keyed car bodywork.

Finally it was Solo turn. The officer took longer over his interview. He asked questions about his relationship with the family and why he lived there. He was particularly interested in why Solo had modified the security system that night. He seemed to be suspicious about the changes to the alarm system and their significance. He finished and warned them that they may be required to go to the station for additional questions at a later time.

They sat around talking: no one wanted to go get to bed. The girls squeezed themselves onto one sofa and Maddie stretched on another while Solo took an armchair. Kellie and Anja were cuddling with Marte.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a cow about you.” Kellie whispered to Anja. “I get so jealous, I can’t think straight. I think it’s part of the Asperger’s think. Sorry.”

Anja squeezed her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “It’s OK. I understand.” she said.

Despite protesting they were not tired they eventually succumbed to sleep one by one.

23.

Shortly after seven Solo's phone rung fortunately with its regular ring-tone. Tim had a moment of deja vu as he reacted to Solo's text message. He couldn't help but feel his stomach churn at the thought of what he might discover. He was hiring a car and coming down; His car was still in the shop. No arguing he was on his way now.

Within the hour Solo's phone rang and he went into the front sitting room. For the second time that day he endured a police cross-questioning being grilled on the events of the night as Tim drove south.

Marte's car had been covered by a tarp. to protect any evidence that could be found. He watched as a CSI crew carefully wrapped it in what looked like a giant roll of cling-wrap and hoisted in onto a truck. Kellie's car was already loaded on the transporter. It'd barely been recovered before when at a few minutes after eight, the police arrived and a police cruiser whisked the sleep deprived and bleary Marte to the police station: She hadn't even had time to brush her hair. That's a first, riding in a police car she thought as she wondered which one the 'blues and twos' switch was.

Solo was back on the phone with Tim updating him of the new unexpected turn of events. Maddie told everyone to wait at home on pain of death as she followed to the police station in her car. Tim would go straight to the police station. Kellie called their solicitor who also headed to the police station. The cavalry was assembling.

The fitters sensed something was wrong as soon as they drove in. They could hear the dogs barking and they could see them running loose in the yard. The were running between the gates and the caravan in an agitated state. Jumping and barking.

The foreman talked soothingly to them as he approached. They barked and growled, pawing at the ground, baring their teeth their hackles raised. They were in no mood to be comforted; they were in attack mode. As he bent to unlock the padlock to the gates, both animals suddenly attacked simultaneously, throwing themselves at the gate in a fury. He jumped back leaving the keys in the padlock in his surprise.

“***k it! What's spooked em? Where's the lad?” The foreman looked at the yard-hand and the keys dangling from the padlock.

“**d that!” He shook his head. “I'm stayin’ in the car 'til they's two is caged.” he said climbing in the car and locking the car door.

The foreman joined him in the car and phoned the old man.

Marte was led to an interview room that was little more than an unadorned and sparsely furnished cell. The decorators had obviously used a surplus of Battleship Grey paint left-over from a Royal Navy ship in the nearby Portsmouth dockyards. On the right she noticed in a mirror, probably a two-way mirror she guessed. On the left a large flat screen TV. In the middle of the floor was a basic canteen table on which stood a tape deck and cheap copy of an angle-poise light. Surrounding the table were four metal and plastic moulded, canteen type chairs. Obviously styled with the flair of a master of the neo-correctional brutalist school of interior design Marte concluded. Although her life experience was limited, and solely centred around the consumption of TV soap dramas, it perfectly fitted the institutional stereo-type.

The young officer who had taken their statements last-night indicated to one of the moulded plastic chairs and Marte sat; He stood by the door, neither of them spoke. She wondered if he was there to guard her or to imprison her. Suspiciously she glanced between the CCTV cameras from the top corner of the wall and the two-way mirror. Was she being watched? Disquieted by her suspicions she wondered who was watching her. She felt her normal confident air eroding under the threat of surveillance. It had only taken a few minutes of being in that room before it seemed like the walls were closing in on her.

Someone came in carrying a stack of the same plastic chairs, dumped them in the corner and left. She shuffled in her seat shifting and fidgeting, trying to find a comfortable position. It must be intentional, she thought, surely no sane person would deliberately design anything this uncomfortable. She smiled at the officer encouragingly, but he remained standing impassive. He'd obviously had to suffer sitting on the chairs before she concluded.

Minutes of silence ticked passed punctuated with her attempts to find a comfortable position, glancing between the camera the mirror and her silent guard. Her nerves were getting the better of her and turning from mild concern to overarching fear. The overbearing atmosphere was becoming unbearable. She felt her resolve draining away by the moment. Screwing up the little confidence she still had, she stood and looked the officer in the eye.

The pitch of her voice sounded high, verging to a squeak. “If . . . “ she cleared her throat and tried again. “If you insist on keeping me here you could at least provide me more comfortable seat.” She demanded. “Oh!” she was startled by the door opening.

An officer appeared with two cushions offering one to her before he began placing the chairs in a semi-circle around the TV. Her suspicions that someone had been monitoring the room either from the two-way mirror or the CCTV camera were true. Another officer entered followed by Maddie, and a man, obviously a civilian.

Maddie kissed Marte on the cheek and introduced the man as Mr Martin her solicitor. He shook her hand and smiled. Marte assumed, from his casual attire, he had been interrupted during his early morning round of golf. Not a good sign she thought. He pointed at the cushions positioning Marte between Maddie and himself.

“Am I being arrested?” She asked again.

“No. All will be revealed in a few minutes, as soon as your uncle arrives.” Mr Martin said. “Mrs Taylor and your uncle are here because I understand your parents are in Norway at present and I am here to represent you as your legal counsel.”

“This is not helping. Why do I need legal counsel. What's going on?”

“Sorry it look so long. Traffic!” Tim burst into the room.

“Uncle Tim! Thank goodness. Can you please tell me what's going on?”

Tim looked at the senior policeman who nodded his permission.

“Well young lady, you've certainly seen your fair share of bad luck with your car in the past two or three days,” Tim begun.

“Tell me about it! I'm beginning to get paranoid. Like someone is after me.” She glanced at the addressed the gathering with suspicion.

“Do you think it personal?”

“It feels personal. I'm the one in the police cells.”

“Don't worry. This is not a cell. I was talking about your three accidents in less than a week.”

“Popular!” Someone commented. The officer frowned.

“It's not the kind of popularity I crave.”

“Well don't mention it on social-media or the next thing you'll find every ambulance chasing lawyer and his dog will know about your accident and be flooding your email-box and your telephone won't stop ringing. Literally hundreds of messages.” Tim said pausing the add. “Intending no disrespect to genuine lawyers in general.”

“I haven't told anyone. I don't want me parents panicking and flying back for the Caribbean.”

“And I would suggest that this advice be taken seriously by everyone considering what I'm about to tell you. To be honest when I first heard about it I thought it was some kind of insurance scam. You know, fender-bender, nasty scratch, insurance claim gets inflated, or a little fire, write-off, new car. But after last night - and seeing the security footage. Well, it's a completely different game now. Run it.” The senior officer commanded pointing at the screen..

The lights were dimmed and the screen flickered into action.”

“This is two nights ago. Watch the car. The picture is poor, from an Infra-red camera I think. See you can see someone interfering with the tyres. The pictures aren't good enough to ID anyone but it looks like it was the same perp. in every case.”

“Can you enhance it?”

“You tell me. It's the Turners technology. But let's keep all questions until the end. Then this.”

The same scene was played-out this time showing the car being scratched with what looked as a screwdriver. Marte winced out-loud at the sight of her little car being damaged.

“Now last night. This is different.”

The difference was immediately noticeable. Instead of one picture of the front of the house, this picture was split into four frames: front of the house, the back of the house, the store and inside Marte's car.

“Yeah! That's my little car.” She started to hi-five her hand but thought better of it, glancing around and hoping she hadn't embarrassed herself.

The shot showed a broken window at the back of the car and a hand was plainly visible inside splashing liquid around the interior. The shadowy person placed something on the porch before hurrying away. Less than one minute later the car and the porch burst into fire. Moments later the security lights switched on and someone in a hoodie is shown turning and rushing out of the garden.

“It seems that the intruder was startled by the lights. My guess he was going the super-glue the back door but got his timing wrong.”

Moments later the girls appear in the garden followed by Maddie and Solo. Two firemen were just behind them. The firemen were leading the family toward the store and out of the garden when a flash of fire engulfs the lead fireman and they all retreat to the safety of garden again.

“That's it. Lights. We've got a few shots of footage from the traffic camera on the roundabout but nothing useful. Questions and comments.”

There were no questions or comments.

“We, the Police and the Fire Service agree the evidence indicates it was arson and will be adding the charge of attempted murder when we apprehend the guilty party. As I mentioned the front door was super-glued and the crime scene team found a tube of super-glue in the back garden I think it’s plain that he was about to use it to lock them into a burning house.”

“So you assume the target is Marte. Why?” Tim asked.

“She or her car has been the primary target of three attacks culminating with the car fire.” The DCI summarised. “We have found blood, DNA, and finger-prints at the scene. Hopefully the lab will tell us a name. But most concerning, is the CSI team found a tracking bug attached to rear of her vehicle.”

“The girls and Solo all use Marte's car all the time.” Maddie interjected.

“Are you aware of John Turner died following a vehicle fire just a few weeks ago?” Tim added.

“I am embarrassed to admit that our uniformed colleges were involved by that fiasco. I would like to apologise for any distress caused and to extend our condolences to the family.” He nodded contritely to Maddie.”

“It played-out like a script from a Keystone Police film.” Tim muttered pointedly.

Mr Martin looked inquiringly at her and noted something on a golf-scorecard and a pencil from his shirt pocket.

“I fear that neither police forces, ours or the Berlin police have come out of it smelling of roses.”

“I was involved with the German Federal Police investigation my-self. We didn't find anything suspicious at the time but Alrik, he's my opposite number in Germany, is reviewing the investigation under the current circumstances.”

“Our prime concern is for the safety for Ms Larsen and the Turner family. That's why we are here today.” The DCI said. “My guess he's after one of the girls probably Marte. It was her car.”

“But they aren't they all here. What about Kellie and Anja?” Tim demanded.

“I'll speak to them when we get back. They saw Marte's burned-out car and it's given them flash-backs of Anja's car. The paramedic said they are suffering from delayed trauma.” Maddie said.

“How the hell did they see that?” Tim demanded.

“Kellie. She found the pictures on the internet. She said they made her throw-up when she saw them. She knew everything long before the police, Uncle Tim and Auntie Maddie. Her app told her about the accident moments after it happened. She knew about Jana's identity and she found Anja and tracked her in America. She was . . . ” Marte was explaining.

“Stop! Stop! I need to consult with my client. And you have to disregard anything my client just said. It's hearsay and it's not inadmissible in court. She hasn't had her rights read.” Mr Martin said.

“I assure you we are not viewing Ms Larsen or any other member of the family as a suspect. She is the victim and our primary purpose is to protect all of you.”

“I would still prefer to Ms Larsen and Mrs Turner to check their comments through me first in the first instance.” The lawyer said. “I believe, Mr Turner is a policeman and should be familiar with the procedure but he should feel free to avail himself to my services should he need to.”

“Very well. Now, we have instituted a discreet surveillance of the property.”

“Discreet! Really? Discreet?” Marte mocked. She seemed to have recovered her spirit.

The officer raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“Solo spotted two police officers in the office of the Accountants on the corner of Grove Road and there's a van parked on the forecourt of the showrooms opposite. They're all watching our house. Oh yeah, he says someone needs to check the car showroom too.”

“And what do you think we'd find if we were to check?”

“You'd probably see that someone has broken in and has been using it as a hide to spy on the house. Uh! I expect, ur, I suspect. Solo's is as bit as smart as Kellie you know, he notices everything.”

“It's true. He told me last night about Marte's car. I should have taken more notice. With all the gear he's got I wouldn't be surprised to find he's got the showroom covered.” Tim confirmed.

The officer whispered in the ear of one of his officers who left the room.

“My officers can confirm that he was inside the house at the time of the fire; The camera's and the house alarm logs confirm no one entered or exited the house after 7pm. Smart he maybe, but I doubt that he even can be in two places at once.” The DCI said smugly.

“Well.” Tim pick up the briefing, trying to rescue the situation. ”I think the internal security is strong. The system detected the threat and sounded the alert within seconds and the Halon system extinguished the fire around the front door, stopping it spreading. With the camera's covering everything, it's when they're out of the house that the threat is greater.”

“Yes, we were lucky this time but this perp. is determined and he's escalating rapidly. Next time he knows what he's up against and I don't think he's planning to stop anytime soon. I think you need to be concerned for personal safety, at least for Marte (and her mouth he wanted to say).”

“You're assuming that Marte is the target. It could be Anja. What if Anja's car catching on fire started in Berlin was the start of it? That's one of the things the German Police are double-checking.” Tim countered.

“It doesn't matter. We've got our phones and the Guardian Angel app.” Marte said.

“An app! What use is an app.” Tim scoffed.

“Don't mock the power of your nieces.” Maddie warned.

“The video you saw from my car was sent by the app. I know it's not very clear, but it's from an low-res camera, or something, and it's just the first version. Solo only built it yesterday with bits and pieces he had laying around.” Marte explained. “He designs all the hardware for Kellie's projects. He's linked our phones to the cars and that's what triggered the alarm first. The house alarm was the last to trigger. The car system triggered when the window was smashed, even before the fire. That's how we got out so fast.”

Marte pulled out her phone and said, “Locate Uncle Tim.”

“Uncle Tim is currently located at the Quay Street Police Station Fair-ham.” the phone responded mispronouncing Fareham. She smirked at Tim and the other's surprise.

She couldn't help showing off, “Locate Kellie.” She commanded.

“Kellie is currently at Aldi, West street, Fair-ham.” It announced.

“What! I told them not to leave the house.” Maddie said, a look of panic crossed her face.

Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no. Marte and Maddie's phones rang in unison. “Oops!” Marte said. “That's the emergency ringtone.” Maddie grabbed frantically for her handbag looking for her phone.

Marte had already answered, she Marte mouthed “Kellie” to Maddie.

“You OK?” She nodded and signed thumbs-up to Maddie to reassure her, “I hope for your sake you can run faster than your mum. All three of you. What! Hold on.” She addressed the room. “Everyone is here. They all went to the supermarket together. No one wants to be alone but now they think some creepy pervert is following them.” Marte related to them. “She's sending a picture of him.”

She turned her phone to let everyone see.

“OK. I'm sorry. The creepy pervert is one of my under-cover officers.” The DCI smirked. “They should get their shopping and go straight home and lock the doors until we get back. Hopefully we won't be much longer now.”

“I'm sure that technology, remarkable as it is, isn't legal.” Mr Martin whispered in Marte's ear.

“It's only for family for testing. Everyone has signed waivers.”

“It would make our job a lot easier if a lot more people had an app like that. Thinking about finding bad guys; Who do you know that may have a grudge against you.”

“No-one.”

“There must be someone. Old boyfriend? A girl who's angry with you? Maybe your current boyfriend's ex?”

“No, no-one.”

“What's the name of your current boyfriend?”

“I don't have a boyfriend, and before you ask I'm not into girls. Do I have to answer these questions?” Marte addressed to question to Mr Martin.

“No. Not if it’s making you uncomfortable . . .”

“It's a hell more inconvenient than being dead.” Tim cut through the conversation.

“What about exes?” the DCI persisted.

“That one I'm uncomfortable about.”

“OK, we can get it from your friends social media accounts, but it will be a lot less intrusive and quicker it you just tell us.”

“OK, but please be discreet, No grabbing people from their beds and bundling then into a police car at the crack of dawn.”

“I'm sorry about that. But it's urgent.”

“My ex is Toby De Walt he's South African but we broke-up a couple of months ago.”

“Was the break-up mutual? How did he take it? Where does he live?”

“He's a couple of years older than me and he said was returning to the family business in Cape Town when he finished his Masters last term. I think he has family in Delft in Holland as well.”

“You haven't said how he took it.”

“Well, it was a break-up. He wanted me to go back to South Africa with him. I wouldn't and he didn't like it.”

“He turned violent?”

“No, he just said of few things. You know, just mean things, bad mouthing me. He could be a bit spiteful and controlling sometimes. He's just a jerk. Nothing I couldn't handle. Just words.”

“I understand. Anyone else?”

“No.”

“No road rage or flipping the bird at someone driving?”

“No!” She frowned and sounded offended at the idea. “I'm not like that.”

“OK. How about Anja, Kellie and what was it? Solo?”

“I don't know about Anja, but Kellie and Solo have no significant others.” Maddie volunteered.

“Yeah, right.” Marte said mockingly.

“What?” Maddie questioned sharply.

“The only two people in the world that don't know that they are a couple is them.”

“I thought he might be a little sweet on you.” Maddie smiled conspiratorially.

“Oh no. He likes me,” she emphasised the word 'like', “and he's intrigued by Anja 'cause she's Kellie's clone, but the only person he makes any kind of emotional connection with is Kellie. No one would put-up with all the sh,-er,-nonsense she gives him, unless they were totally smitten. Of course she doesn't get it, and he would rather die than admit it. Just like a couple of star-crossed lovers they're doomed to a life of unrequited love unless someone saves them from themselves.” Marte's hands grasped before her bosom as she gestured heavenward, beseechingly in a dramatic flourish.

Maddie smiled and shook her head at Marte's melodramatic gesture.

“Yes! I'm sure that's all very good advice for the lovelorn and I assume that they can be crossed off the list then.” Tim said.

“That brings us back to Marte and Anja. We'll liaise with you and the German police on Anja's background and associates.

“Unless she is living a hidden life, her love life is as boring as mine. No recent boyfriends, no juicy gossip, a complete snoozefest like mine according to Facebook.” Marte announced forlornly.

“I certainly wouldn't describe your life as a snoozefest. Your life is far from boring right now young woman.” Maddie contradicted.

“Actually, I just thought of something.” Marte said. Turning to Maddie she asked, “Have you ever seen Kellie's WTF folder?”

“No. And I'm not certain that I'd want to. Its doesn't very nice.” Maddie's expression was a picture of confusion.

“It's the folder that she dumps all her hate mail in. It stands for 'Weirdo's,Threats, and Freaks!' She says she never reads them, she just puts the in the WTF folder so, well, I guess for times like this.”

“O- M- G--, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Maddie started to tear-up. “I thought all that was long over.” She dug in the handbag searching for tissue.

“We need to see these messages: They could be critical to the investigation.”

“I'll ask Kellie to copy them to you. I'm sure she won't mind.”

“Until further notice, none of you especially Marte, don't go anywhere unaccompanied and report anything suspicious or unusual no matter how trivial. I'd like a few minutes with Mr Turner and Mr Martin but I think we've got everything we need from Mrs Turner and Miss Larsen. I'd like to have one of my officers interview you both again but I'll arrange that later. I'll have a car accompany you home.” The DCI said.

“Don't you want to hear my theory?” Marte interjected.

The DCI frowned and sighed. He was not enjoying being schooled by a couple of civilians, leave-alone a smart mouthed young woman. Tim, the DCI, and Solicitor exchanged a look; Tim knew from experience what it was like to get on the wrong side of Marte's tongue. The young officer struggled to hide a grin.

Marte recounted the events concerning Kellie, starting from her fears she was being stalked on the way home from school, the car problems, Yoda's catnapping and the messages, until the fire. She was convinced that it was all about Kellie no her, and Solo and Anja agreed. The only one of them who was not convinced was Kellie.

Mr Martin, the solicitor, interrupted and commented 'allegedly' or 'that's a matter of conjecture' or 'that could be one possible interpretation' at each statement and repeatedly that her comments could not used in evidence of any alleged illegal action.

The old man was not well pleased to find himself being woken early following a heavy night drinking. Having no time to eat or drink did nothing soften for his demeanour; He'd have to go for the nearest greasy spoon for a full English later. Those bozos better not be wasting his time, and there better be a mug of strong tea with a strong, ‘arf an’ arf’ as he called it, a stiffener of Scotch ready when he arrived at the yard. He liked to enjoyed a fine international cuisine for breakfast; It was the most important meal of the day, 'sets you up right,' as he liked to tell people.

He scowled at the fitters, commenting on their sexual habits and questioning their parentage under his breath. Turning his back to them he heading to attend to the dogs first. The dogs had been taken-up patrolling between the gate and the caravan again once the fitters got back in the car. Since his arrival they'd gone into attack mode again. They repeatedly charged the gate barking and snapping as he approached.

He took a dog whistle from his pocket and blew on it. Then he growled a command at them in German and they lay-down obediently, but remaining alert and poised to pounce in an instantly. He tossed them a couple of scraps of meat he'd pulled from his pocket. They looked at the meat drooling at the sight of it while not daring to eat. At another command from him they snapped up the food, softly whining, pleading for more. He put them on their chains and fed and watered them. They ate like they hadn't been fed for a day or more.

“Where's that *****n' kid?” The old man demanded as he headed to the caravan shouting his nephew's name while dialling the phone. He'd been calling Wayne's number every few minutes since he'd heard the news. It was still unreachable.

The fitters shrugged as they refitted the battery to the back-hoe. The least said the better when he was in that kind of mood they figured. The old man indicated to the men to follow him. They dropped their work and scuttled after him.

“Stinks in 'ere. Looks like 'e 'adn't cleaned-up or washed-up fer a *****n' munth.” The old man said. The fitters exchanged glances but knew better than to say anything; They'd seen the old man's place it couldn't be worse than this. The foreman stepped in and flicked the light switch with no effect.

The old man cursed again. He pushed open the curtains and opened the window to get some fresh air and light in. The van which looked a mess even in the gloom, it was worse as the sunlight flooded in. Now, with the curtains open they could see the full extent of the damage. The old man cursed roundly. It had been trashed.

“I think 'es 'ad a accident boss!” The foreman, who had opened the bedroom room, pointed through the door staring at the bed.

“God almighty!” The fitter who was sticking close to the foreman muttered, paling as he turned away from the scene. He stepped back, gagging, as the old man shoved him out the way roughly.

One end of the curtain rail was torn off, and the curtains were missing. Blood was everywhere. It was smeared on the floor and the walls, there were even fingerprints on the ceiling. On the bed a dark stain of congealing blood and other bodily fluids had seeped over the edge and puddled on the floor. Screwed-up on the mattress was a bloodied pillow, and a quilt that seemed to have been used to staunch the bleeding. There more smears of blood on the curtains and on the door handle that led outside again..

“OMG! What the ***k 'as 'e dun? Where is 'e?” The old man's voice quavered as he took the scene in.

He staggered, grabbing the door frame for support as he exited the van looking panicked and gulping for air. He was glad now that he'd not had time for breakfast. The two fitter followed, looking white and gasping for fresh air.

“'opefully at A&E.” The foreman said.

The old man dug in his sagging jogging bottoms for his phone again confirming that he was not at the hospital. He was still in shock but he was regaining his composure. He phoned his sister, Wayne's mum.

“Hi, Wayne 'ere?” he asked casually. “No. OK, well if you sees 'im tell 'im 'e's got me keys in ‘is 'pocket an' we can't get in the store. Ok. Later. Gotta go.”

“No joy?” the foreman asked.

“Nah! 'e can't av gon' far on foot. Search the yard. You start 'ere. I'll start from the uver end.”

“Boss, there's blood on the ground back 'ere.” He pointed to a spot.

“OK. You start at the front, and you at the back,” he pointed them in the general direction, “and I'll look for more blood.” He said casting around for more traces on blood around the van.

They had only been searching for a few minutes when the foreman phoned big Frank.

“It might be nuffin', but I remember I caught Wayne *******in' round with the back-hoe right down the end of the far side. I remember it cos I told 'im 'e weren't stacking safe. An' 'e tol' me t' ***k off an' mind me own ***kin' bisnis.”

“I'm on me way.”

The sound of the hoe revving brought the fitter running. He jumped on the back as they rumbled to the back corner of the site. They found the foreman edging carefully between the overhanging stacks of rusting hulks. A hand drawn sign, misspelled, and badly written warning of the danger of imminent collapse was laying trampled in the dust.

“Get the ****k out of there!” Big Frank bellowed. “I 'ready got one squished barstid I don't needs a nuver.”

“No sign of no-one. I got as far as the white hi-top campervan that's blockin' the aisle.” He reported.

“OK. I'll clear as far as the camper. Youse two keep yer eyes open both sides.”

They worked to get the aisles safe with no accidents and no more traces of blood. Their target was a generic white camper van in the 'hi-top' format, just a big box at the back with an opening from the cab. Something about it looked odd, it didn't appear to have a chassis; The body rested on the ground.

“Is that blood on the seat-back?” The fitter pointed.

They stared intently through the windscreen. Big Frank tried the passenger door and the camper door in turn. Then tugged at them with both hands but they wouldn't budge.

“Yuh muver!” He cursed the van.

The fitters watched as he fired-up the back-hoe and smashed the bucket through the camper door. In one swift movement he ripped the door off. The fitters waited letting him take the lead. It was definitely blood Frank announced as he inspected the back of the vehicle using his phone flash-light function. He pointed to a blood smear on the passengers side toward the bottom and another mark on one of the floor panels. They looked at the blood smears and exchanged worried expressions.

“Floor's 'ollow!” he yelled stomping around testing it and listening to the sound.

Big Frank felt around the edge of the panel searching for a point of purchase. He prized his fat fingers under the panel and pulled. He was panting and grunting, sweating profusely, his face flushed red and his eyes bulging from his efforts. He looked like he was in training for a heart attack.

He mopped his sweaty brow on a grimy cloth as they stood around staring in amazement at a ten foot trench with a ladder, one side of which appeared to be the side of a buried shipping container with a small door on the side. They were stunned at Frank's turn of speed as his slid down the ladder and dragged open the door. With his phone flash-light leading the way he stepped through the door. The foreman started to follow down the ladder. He had only reached the second rung when Frank burst back again stepping backward.

“What the . . .” he cried. He didn't get to finish as there was a flash accompanied with the unmistakable report of a rifle shot.

Frank fell backward, staggering back out for the door. The foreman jumped back up the ladder. Frank groaned cursing roundly as he kicked the door shut again.

“I bin shot!” he gasped. “Little bitch shot me!”

The foreman called 999 for the police and an ambulance.

There was a knock at the door and an officer excused his interruption whispered to the DCI who in turn excused himself and stepped out on the room. A moment later he returned to announce that the had been a significant development in the case and they would have to adjourn the meeting. As agreed earlier an officer would accompany Maddie and Marte home.

Perched on the stools around the kitchen island they discussed events including what had happened to delay uncle Tim's arrival. Solo had re-rigged the home system to switch-on a TV monitor when a sensor detected movement approaching the house. They had been watching Yoda persecuting a butterfly in the garden. He had been fitted with a collar to trigger an alarm when he left the garden. Solo had wanted to inject a chip under his skin but Kellie wouldn't allow it.

“I'll implant a chip in you if you do.” She threatened.

“Already done it!” He boasted showing her a plaster on his wrist. He pointed to the scanner and his stats appeared on the monitor. “See!”

“I really don't know what to say about that.” Maddie said looking worried.

“It'll be useful if he ever gets lost.” Marte grinned.

“Or if he gets run-down by a car when he's chasing a dog.” Kellie added.

“I'm only testing the technology.” He explained. “It logs me off the system automatically when I move away. Cool security device, yeah?”

At that the monitor beeped and the picture cut to Tim parking on the forecourt.

“Well, that bit works OK. I want to be able to identify the family members and exclude them from the alarms.” He continued.

“I don't like the idea of monitoring everyone all the time.” Maddie said.

“We need to talk about this later.” Kellie told her.

“What took you so long?” Marte asked as Tim came in.

“The local force allowed me to share their briefing.” He told them.

“And?

“And what?”

“Are they still convinced I'm a drug lord, or international terrorist, or whatever? Am I about to be arrested?”

“Well, I believe that an arrest is immanent and witnesses are being interviewed but you're not a suspect. That's all I can say.”

The monitor beeped and a police car with two people in it was displayed. It was followed by Mr Martin who was looking worried.

“You sure they're not here to arrest me?” Marte's said, her voice sounding thin and stressed.

Tim jumped-up to get the door. He opened the door to two officers with Mr Martin rushing to catch-up and get ahead of the police. He was still wearing his golf attire.

“I'm expected. I'm the Turner family's counsel.” He said addressing everyone as he slipped inside beside Tim.

Tim knew who he was, but his formal manner caused the hair on the back of his neck bristle. An expression of surprise crossed his face and the blood drained from his face but he ushered him in while blocking the path of the two police officers.

Turning to the policemen, “And your business would be? Officers,” he demanded icily.

He couldn't believe what he was saying and blocking their entrance. He was hopelessly conflicted between family and duty. He bet the farm on family.

“We're here to interview Miss Turner and Mr Solomon pertaining to a video recording alleged to be in their possession, sir.”

“And that's all?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll see if they're in.” He said, shutting the door.

He paused to listen to the voices in the sitting room. He caught the end of a conversation between Mr Martin and Solo.

“ . . . a couple of stitches for a flesh wound.” Mr Martin was saying.

“Is he alright?” Solo asked.

“Yes. He's probably on his way home right now.”

Tim entered the room. “Problems?” He asked.

“Me dad's got shot.” He said in a matter of fact manner. “At the yard.” He added.

“Can I help you? Give you a lift to the hospital or anything?”

“Someone needs to see the dogs are OK. At the yard. But it's not urgent. We're hirin' a car for Marte this later.”

“Look, the police want to interview you and Kellie about some video. If there's anything you need to tell me and Mr Martin tell us now before you say anything to the police. You kids haven't hacked MI5 or the Prime Minister something?” Tim pleaded.

“So, what's on this video then?” Marte asked.

“I haven't seen it yet, but they said it's the face of the cat-napper. It's only a few frames until he sees the camera and smashes it, apparently.” Kellie said.

“A lot of effort for a cat if you ask me.” Tim commented with a puzzled expression.

“Do you know who it is?” Marte asked.

“No.” Kellie said

“Yes.” Solo said at the same time.

She looked at him in surprise mouthing “What!”

“I know who he is. I was going to handle it myself an' tell you later. I didn't want you getting into any danger.”

A few frames of shadowy video punctuated with flashes appeared on the screen. Kellie backed-it-up. “We will be revisiting this.” She said shooting Solo sideways look.

“It didn't work right. See there are only a few useful frames.” Solo said.

She stopped the action on a clear frame. “That's the creep who followed me.”

“It's the guy from the motorway.” Marte interjected. “What do you think?” She asked Anja.

“For sure! Its the same man.” she confirmed.

“It's cousin Wayne.”

“That Wayne?” Kellie demanded.

“Is that Wayne Ducket you're talking about?” Mr Martin asked.

“Yes.” Solo confirmed.

“I believe the police intend to arrest Wayne if he survives. He's currently in intensive care in QA.” Mr Martin told them. “They've got his phone. It's got dozens of pictures of the girls. They look like they were taken over the last few days. It's pretty certain he was stalking them and seeing his lair I think he was planning to kidnap them and goodness knows what he was planning.”

“What are they charging him with?” Tim asked.

“For arson for the house and the cars, and the attempted murder of you all. As well as the attempted murder of Frank Solomon Snr. For a start.”

A chorus of “OMG!” was whispered around the room looking at one another.

“I'm here to help you to make voluntary written statements for the police. Hopefully, that way we can minimise the stress and disruption to your life.” Mr Martin said taking control.

“I can understand how Anja knew the date and its significance, but how come you know about 25th August 1940?” Marte asked Tim following dinner. “I've been digging into the official files, some of them are still classified but I have found a few things.”

“OK, tell us what you've found so far.”

“I'll wait for Alrik to tell us about Vera later, but I will tell you about Nadja, according to the official version.”

“Official version. There more than one version. Intriguing.” Marte commented her eyebrows raising.

“Headlines. Just the headlines.” Kellie added.

“Well, after she vanished from Berlin, we hear nothing about the Nadja until she popped up unexpectedly in Plymouth. She disembarked from an English freighter that was making a very risky supply run to Mediterranean. Three passengers, a fleeing scientist, an injured RAF pilot who had been shot down over Belgium somewhere and Nadja disembarked. They had been brought aboard by a couple of Spanish fishermen who had rowed the three 'packages', as they called them, to a secret rendezvous off the coast of Galicia.

The 'packages' were rushed to an undisclosed location where Nadja was questioned endlessly by an intelligence officer, she never saw her two companions again. Eventually she was interned in the Isle of Man until the end of the war.”

“Are you saying that she was a criminal or something?”

“You have to remember it was during the war not long after Dunkirk. Everyone expected the country would be invaded: People were paranoid. The English authorities picked up all Germans living in the UK and put them in internment camps the Isle of Man, where they could be watched and couldn't escape easily. She was sent to a woman only camp, called Rushen, in the south of the island near Port Erin.”

“So she escaped from Germany and the camps only to be imprisoned in England for being a German refugee. There must have been more to it than that.” Marte said disappointedly.

“It's not that different from what happens today, if you think about it.” Solo commented.

“You said the official version. So, what is the unofficial version?” Anja prompted.

“Well, I found there was no record of her interment anywhere and according to the debrief of the 'fly-boy', the RAF pilot, told another story. According to him the twins had been involved with some dodgy character, who infiltrated their resistance group, and they had to scarper pronto from Paris. The French resistance apparently raised a bit of a stink about it with British Intelligence. Something about a Gestapo agent, an informer, a British agent and a dead German trooper. Anyway, everybody wanted their blood. They were lucky to get away alive. The girls split-up with a trail of blood and destruction following both of them right across France and into Spain. Pretty, prim and proper little maids they were not. It appears they were a lethal combination in every way.”

“Wow! You certain? I never heard any of this before.” Marte questioned.

“Me neither.” Kellie nodded.

“Nana would never speak about it, nor Gran'pa. I don't even know if he knew about it?”

“Have you told any of this to mum?” Marte asked.

“Not yet. She's on her second honeymoon. I don't know if I should tell her. I don't think she'd be well pleased knowing her Nana was involved in a bunch of killings even if it was in the war. You know what she's like!”

“Please let me be there when you tell her. Just after I tell her about the car would be a good moment.”

“I was hoping you would tell her.”

“Not me! I was hoping to use it to protect me from the hurricane not to walk into the eye of the storm.”

“Do you think that's what's in the manuscript?” Kellie asked.

“Possibly. I don't know what other dark secrets they might have been hiding. I was shocked when I first read it. I mean Oma, my own Opa, spying and working with the resistance during the war, I can hardly believe it.”

“So there more that you haven't told us.” Kellie turn to her laser stare at Tim. “You just said that your Opa and Oma were spies.” She pounded.

“I've only told you the bare bones. Not the details. The official papers as still subject to the Official Secrets Act. You'd need clearance to read the details for yourselves. But I think these papers are her records of events.”

“No wonder the manuscript was encrypted!”

“No wonder they didn't ever want to talk about it.”

Email from Oma Ritter to Anja

Dear Anja and family.

I have just spoken to the Newspaper, they are publishing the story and will be calling you if they haven't done was already. They told me they would require you to sign legal stuff before they publish anything. You'll need to check with a lawyer before you sign anything. . .

A visit to Mr Martin's office was arranged. After a short exchange between Mr Martin and the Newspaper document were finalised and copies of their agreement were sent. Later around dinner time there was a facetime call from the writer.

nicah la Cortes

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Secret Family - Part Eight.

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