Christopher Reich - Rules of Vengeance

“Can I get you something?” asked Prudence Meadows as she came down the stairs. “Coffee? Tea? Something stronger, perhaps?”

“Some water, maybe. Thanks.”

She passed by him, slowing as she caught sight of his face. “What happened to you? You’re all scratched up.”

“I was in an accident today.”

Prudence Meadows stood on her tiptoes, touching her hand to his cheek as if she were an admitting nurse. “Goodness. Are you all right?”

“Just a little shaken.”

“Was that why you missed your speech? Jamie called from the hotel and said the place was in an absolute uproar. He wanted to contact you, but he didn’t have your number.”

“Something like that. It’s complicated.” Jonathan followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. Prudence handed him a glass of water and he drank it down. Without asking, she prepared a plate of biscuits and fresh fruit and set it before him. A snifter of brandy came a minute later. “Thought you might need something with a little bite to it,” she said. “You look rather done in.”

“You could say that.” Jonathan took a sip of the strong liqueur, letting it relax him. “You have a nice home,” he said.

Prudence smiled. “And you? Jamie said you had a wife but hadn’t settled down in any one place.”

“The job keeps us moving from place to place. There’s no time to put down roots.”

“Must be exciting,” she said. “All those foreign locales.”

“Sometimes.”

“No children?”

“Not yet.” Jonathan checked the clock. It was nearing ten. He finished the brandy and stood. “I should be going. It’s late.”

“Don’t be silly. Jamie would positively kill me if he found out that I’d let you leave without seeing him. Have some more brandy while I give him a call and find out where he is.” She refilled his glass, and with a smile walked out of the room.

Jonathan made a circuit of the kitchen. There were kids’ drawings on the fridge and an agenda spread open. From afar he could hear Prudence speaking with her husband. Glancing down, he flipped a page back, then another. A severe black line inked across the page caught his eye. The day before, a dinner engagement with a “Chris and Serena” had been crossed out. In its place were the words “Dorchester, 6 p.m. Cancel 4 p.m. surgery.”

“He’s on his way,” called Prudence. “Should be pulling into the drive any minute. In fact, I think I hear him.”

From the back door came the sound of an automobile. The engine cut and a door slammed. A few moments later, Jamie Meadows stepped inside. “Jesus, man, look at you. What the hell happened?”

“Can we talk?” said Jonathan.

Meadows kissed his wife. “We’ll be upstairs in the study, Pru. Be a dear and bring me a little something. Ham sandwich would be nice. Lots of mustard. The hot stuff.”

Meadows led Jonathan to a cozy wood-paneled study on the second floor and pointed to a high-backed captain’s chair. “Sit,” he commanded. “Speak.”

With a sigh, Jonathan sat. “I need a place to stay.”

“Thought you were at the Dorchester.”

“I am. I mean, I was . I checked out.”

“You’re serious? And you want to stay here? Don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome. Stay as long as you like. It’s just that I don’t think a trundle bed in the kids’ room is an even trade.”

“Something’s come up.”

Meadows refilled Jonathan’s glass. Setting down the decanter, he pointed to the cuts on Jonathan’s face. “You look like you were in a fist fight and you lost.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Out with it. It’s me, Jamie. I’ve got enough skeletons for two closets.” He offered a sneaky grin as consolation. “Not a woman, is it? I know some of you aid docs. You’ve got a warm gal stashed in every port.”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s not Emma, is it? You’re not hiding from your wife?”

“I’m hiding, but it’s not from Emma. It’s from the police.”

“Stop having me on. What’s up?”

Jonathan leveled his gaze at his friend. “I’m not kidding.”

Meadows’s face dropped like a stone. “For real? The police?”

“You heard about the car bomb today?”

“Bloody savages,” said Meadows. “London’s not safe to walk in any longer.”

“I was there. That’s where I got these cuts. Flying glass. Debris. In fact, you could say I was part of it.”

“You’re joking.” But there was no mirth in Meadows’s voice.

“I wish I were.”

“What were you doing there?” asked Meadows. “I mean, why… how?”

“I can’t tell you. Believe me, you don’t want to know. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“Safe? You’re on the run from the police and you come to my house where my children are asleep. Don’t tell me about safe. If you’re dragging me into something, I want to know what it’s about.”

“I can’t. It’s not just about hiding from the police, either. There’s more to it than that.” Jonathan stood and made to leave. “I’m sorry I came. I see now that I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking.”

Meadows lumbered to his feet. “Wait just a second. You haven’t been arrested, have you?”

“No,” said Jonathan. “Not officially.”

“You didn’t set off that bomb, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“I’m not harboring a bloody serial killer?”

Jonathan couldn’t stop from smiling. “No. You’re good there.”

“All right, then. Offer holds. You can stay as long as you like. But I’ll have to tell Pru. Not all, mind, but at least some of it. You can have Frannie’s room. Don’t mind sprites and unicorns, do you? She’s going through the fairy stage. Bed might be a tad short, but at least it’s soft.”

“The couch downstairs is fine,” said Jonathan, standing.

“Wouldn’t hear of it. Can’t have the best surgeon I’ve ever known busting his back on that monstrous contraption. We’ve got to take good care of those magic hands. Keep them in good stead until they can save some more lives.”

“Thank you, Jamie. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

“But what are you going to do?” asked Meadows.

“Right now? I’m going to sleep.”

“I mean tomorrow or the next day. You can’t run forever.”

“You’re right about that.”

“Then what?”

Jonathan threw a hand on Jamie’s meaty shoulder and gave a pat.

Magic hands .

The words hit him like a hammer. Emma had used the same words to describe his surgical skills last night.

It had to be a coincidence, he thought, looking into Meadows’s eyes. Surely it was a common enough expression. But no amount of mental cajoling, no calls on camaraderie or loyalty could fool him. A surgeon might have gifted hands or supple hands or healing hands, but “magic hands”? He’d never heard the expression before.

Jonathan stared harder at Meadows. Now that he thought of it, the mention of his magic hands wasn’t the only coincidence. Jamie’s first posting with the National Health Service had been in Cornwall. Emma’s cover story had her growing up in Penzance, also in Cornwall. Jamie had been up at Oxford. Emma claimed to have graduated from there, as well.

And what about the agenda downstairs? Prudence Meadows had said in no uncertain terms that they had been planning to go to the medical conference. Yet according to the agenda, they’d had a dinner engagement with Chris and Serena scheduled. An engagement obviously canceled at the last moment.

There is no such thing as coincidence . It was practically Emma’s mantra.

“This way to Fairyland,” said Meadows. “Come, good Oberon.”

Jonathan followed him into the bedroom. After saying goodnight, he waited a few minutes, then crept into the hallway. The corridor was dark and silent. Meadows had gone back downstairs. His voice could be heard talking urgently on the phone in the kitchen. No doubt he was calling Division, letting them know he had Emma Ransom’s husband in captivity and asking for instructions.