Peter Anghelides - Another Life

‘It’s a diving regulator,’ Jack told her.

‘Spadey was a sub-aqua enthusiast,’ explained Foxton.

‘Where’s the rest of the equipment?’ asked Toshiko. ‘No wetsuit, for example?’ She explored the wardrobes, but the rails were bare, empty except for a handful of jangling metal hangers. ‘Do you mean snorkelling?’

‘No, I mean scuba,’ said Foxton. His voice was pensive as he started to recall something ‘Spadey was always telling us about his latest trip. Loved to take pictures of the fish.’

‘That would explain the lens,’ said Jack. He continued to rummage in the other boxes, and located a clutch of film negatives. ‘A bit old-school, don’tcha think? Thirty-five millimetre, not digital. So I wonder what happened to the rest of the photos? Ah, here we go.’

Jack had found a shoebox, labelled ‘SGWBA’ in neat capitals, and filled with glossy prints. Jack started to spread them out on the desk. They had not been sorted, so out-of-focus shots were mixed with other, clearer pictures of exotically coloured marine life. Some included divers, anonymous in their dive masks, exploring underwater.

Toshiko realised the difference between these pictures and the photos she had seen earlier in the soldier’s quarters. ‘No pictures of his family.’

‘Didn’t have any immediate family,’ Foxton said. ‘No known next of kin. But he went on dives with a regular group of friends.’

‘I’ve seen this somewhere before,’ Jack said. He passed one of the photographs to Toshiko. It showed three people suited up for a dive, all masked. The vivid colours in their wetsuits echoed the images of divers in the other photos.

With the pile of glossies scattered over the desk, Jack eventually found a handful of pictures that included some shots of the divers without their masks on.

‘Well, hey!’ Jack slid one of the photographs across the desk so that it was in front of Toshiko. ‘Recognise this guy?’

He had the defined torso that a well-fitted wetsuit gives to any man who isn’t very overweight. The figure’s wet hair was plastered to his head, darker than its usual grey. It took her a moment, and then Toshiko remembered.

The last time she’d seen him, he hadn’t looked much like this. There hadn’t been that much of his face to recognise after it had hit the pavement. She only knew what he should look like from seeing the identity pass photo she’d obtained from the Blaidd Drwg security database. ‘It’s Guy Wildman.’

They rummaged around in the pile for more photos.

‘Have you been making a mess?’ said a familiar voice from the door.

Toshiko looked up to see Gwen coming in, accompanied by her escort, the dark-eyed soldier from earlier who looked like he might be Russian. Private Foxton had jumped into a more alert mode as he heard Gwen arriving. He now relaxed a little and nodded a greeting to the other soldier.

Gwen kicked at some of the splinters of wood from the broken door. ‘I didn’t need John-Paul’s help to find you. I could have just followed the trail of debris.’

‘John-Paul?’ asked Toshiko.

‘Private Wisniewski,’ said Gwen. She glanced at him, and his polite smile told her that she’d got the pronunciation correct.

Toshiko passed some of the glossy photos to Gwen. ‘We made a connection with Guy Wildman.’

‘There were underwater photos at his apartment. Not to mention some wildlife in his bathroom.’ Gwen was rummaging in her pocket, and brought out a small Geiger counter. She switched it on, and it clicked reassuringly at the lowest end of the scale. The two soldiers had stiffened, their eyes showing their alarm. Before they could say anything, Gwen spoke reassuringly to them. ‘Nothing to worry about. Entirely routine.’ She showed them the readings. Toshiko noticed that they didn’t seem much more reassured.

‘Here’s another of the three divers,’ noted Jack.

Gwen and Toshiko looked at the photo he had held out. A trio of divers on a boat, ready to drop into the blue water behind them, their masks on and their thumbs raised. ‘We saw that picture at Wildman’s apartment,’ agreed Gwen.

‘Wildman, Bee, and another one,’ mused Toshiko. ‘And this could be the third. She’s quite a looker. Girlfriend?’

‘I don’t think “quite a looker” is likely for Wildman, do you?’ laughed Gwen.

‘That’s one of the other instructors,’ said Private Foxton. Toshiko had been unaware that the two soldiers behind them had been looking at the photographs too. ‘That’s Sergeant Applegate. She was another sub-aqua enthusiast. Hwntw , the two of them.’

‘They were what?’ asked Toshiko.

‘South Waleans,’ explained Gwen. ‘Perhaps she was having a thing with Bee, though. The MO wasn’t very forthcoming, but he said that some of the officers thought Bee was too familiar with the other soldiers. Do you think that’s code for “shagging the staff”?’

Toshiko passed her the photograph. ‘I don’t know. What do you reckon — would you?’

At first, she thought Gwen might have been offended by her teasing question. As soon as she saw the photograph, Gwen’s expression had hardened. She twisted the photograph so that Jack could see it more clearly.

‘I would,’ said Jack, but there was little humour in his voice. ‘But then I have a thing about blondes with legs that go all the way up to their ears.’

‘It’s Betty Jenkins!’ Gwen said.

Toshiko laughed. ‘The pensioner at Wildman’s apartment?’

‘No,’ replied Gwen. ‘The woman who claimed to be Betty Jenkins.’

Jack leaped from the table and made for the door. He paused in the shattered doorframe and snapped a question at Foxton. ‘Where is this Sergeant Applegate? We need to see her now.’

Foxton looked flustered for the first time. ‘I don’t know sir. Sorry.’

‘What kind of outfit is this?’

‘No, sir. I mean, no one knows. She’s been absent without leave for three weeks.’

Jack screwed up his eyes tight and bellowed at the ceiling in frustration. He slammed at the open door with his clenched fist, and winced. ‘I wish I had time to go and slap the Lieutenant-Colonel in his stiff upper lip. He knew this and told us nothing when we got here. It’s obstruction, pure and simple.’

‘It’s trust,’ Gwen told him quietly. ‘It’s not right, but it’s understandable.’

‘No time for polite conversation,’ Jack decided. ‘Well, we know Applegate wasn’t at Wildman’s flat to feed his plants.’

‘Unless she was feeding them to that disgusting starfish thing in the bath,’ Gwen agreed. ‘And all that squeaky nervous behaviour? That was a routine. She’s a trained soldier, she wouldn’t be scared of guns or violence.’

Toshiko saw that Jack was picking slivers of wood from a cut in the side of his hand. He had slammed his fist into a broken section of the door, and caught a bunch of splinters. ‘Maybe you were right, Tosh. I should have used the handle.’

‘Not locked,’ she agreed. ‘No guard.’

Jack stared at her, astounded. ‘No guard!’ he yelled. ‘That’s right. But there was a guard at Wildman’s apartment. Wasn’t there, Gwen?’

‘Applegate?’

‘No! The thing in the bathroom! We know that Wildman could puke up those things. He musta barfed one into the tub to guard whatever he’d hidden there. C’mon, we gotta get back. Whatever it was guarding… it could still be there!’

The rain squalled around them during their sprint across the barracks, so the front of their clothing was swiftly soaked. Privates Foxton and Wisniewski trotted behind them, keeping pace and not trying to overtake. It must have looked to the troops marching on the parade ground that a bedraggled trio of visitors was being casually chased off the Caregan grounds by two soldiers.