Chapter 10

Read from the start here: Chapter One


The clock upon the dashboard showed a quarter past nine and Sara’s stomach felt increasingly uneasy. On the other side of the window, the city she barely remembered passed by in unfamiliar chunks. Shortly after they had left the hospital, she had been led to and sat down in some sleek, silver vehicle while Callum cheerfully told her he was driving them both to their place in a suburb not too far away. Yet as they cruised through busy streets, round multiple turns and down steep roads towards their destination, Sara realised it was the increasing anxiety behind her predicament that brought on the illness, not motion sickness.


“Cheer up, we’re nearly there.” He spoke, looking across at her from his seat at the steering wheel with forlorn eyes. “It’s just up here on the right.”


To give him credit, Callum had been trying very hard to make Sara feel at ease throughout the journey, but without knowing anything about her current life, this man was simply an unknown and she couldn’t muster up any inclination to engage him in conversation. She had chosen instead to remain quiet, leaving him to contemplate his situation and her to hers. It was during this thoughtful period when questions had begun forming, and once they started they didn’t stop.


They spewed forth like an eruption, and everything she asked herself brought on a hundred follow ups. What was she like as a person? What happened earlier? How did she get there? What was she doing? Did she have many friends? Did she have any at all? Was she a nice person? Was she satisfied with her life? Did she like where she lived? Who she lived with? Where she was from?


One question that she kept coming back to was ‘What do I do next?’ Since the accident barely an hour ago, the thought of losing everything she had ever known was the most important issue in her life. No matter what crap she had been through, no matter how bad it had gotten or how low she had felt, she desperately wanted to regain all her memories. Without them, she felt like she had wasted the first twenty six years of her life.


It wasn’t asking the impossible and a good part of her had decided it was achievable, especially as it seemed like the answers she sought were right on the tip of her tongue. It’s just that they were written in a language that she didn’t speak, that they were there but she needed some sort of key to decode them. They weren’t gone, just currently closed off to her.


Suddenly she felt completely lost and stressed in her own head. Feeling like things weren’t so hopeless was fine, but she wasn’t sure, and if her past was always going to be just out of reach, she knew it would drive her crazy. Yet the only person who could help her at all right now was currently being ignored, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.


“Here we are.”


The car slowly pulled over to one side of an unassuming residential street, with terraced houses all the way along it. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t recognise it and silently sighed. The building they had parked outside of was quaint, built with clean, sandstone coloured brick and, nestled at the bottom in a small sunken porch, was a small yellow door. In front of it sat a small but perfectly manicured garden, the mix of vibrant colours and thick green shrubbery stood out amongst their neighbours.


Sara exited the vehicle, while Callum did the same. Her eyes cast interested glances over the flowers next to the pavement, and as she walked past them she took the head of a purple rose between her fingers, feeling the soft petals with her fingertips before letting it go.


“We have a gardener.” Callum spoke up with a nervous twinge in his voice. “He comes once a week, his name’s Gallan.”


She continued up the path, ignoring him, and walked up to the entrance. She grasped the handle and turned it.


Inside, the house was just as eloquent as the garden. The entrance hall had solid, hardwood floors and a staircase which felt more like a masterpiece, with a thick carved bannister and a balcony overlooking the bottom floor. Just off to the left was a living room which had been decked out with plush comfortable sofas and a massive screen on the opposite wall, while straight ahead of her were two doorways, one leading to a rather pristine kitchen and the other to a dining room. If this was where she lived, she supposed she must be doing well for herself. Speaking of which, what did she even do for a living?


“Does any of this seem familiar?” Callum shut the door behind them, eventually walking around in front of Sara with that shred of anxiousness still present. “I could show you around if you like, so you can get used to the place again.”


She threw him a quick unpleasant look and stepped into the kitchen. A few dishes had been piled up next to the sink, but apart from that the room looked spick and span. She wondered if he also employed rubber gloved as well as green fingered help. She ran her hand along the smooth marble work surface, feeling its cool touch and appreciating its beauty. The refrigerator was the next thing to catch her eye, a tall silver affair, so she pulled it open and briefly studied the contents inside. She found a pack of bacon, two sausages left from a full packet, a couple of eggs and a nearly empty carton of milk. She shut it and turned around without making a single sound to find Callum hovering near the entrance.


“Please, say something. Are you mad at me?”


“I’m just having a look.” She responded quietly.


“Look, I understand things are probably weird as hell for you right now, but I’m only trying to help. I’m here for you, you know that right?”


Silence.


“Fine, I get it, you’ve got to get through this thing on your own. If you do happen to need me for anything, even directions out of here, just ask.”


He left her be. She moved back out into the hallway. She hated this place she’d decided. Sara didn’t need to see anything else to know that she would feel incredibly uncomfortable staying here. Still, she knew she wasn’t done here yet, she still had to get some information at the very least and she wasn’t yet sure if she had anywhere else to stay or even the means to afford it. She headed towards the lounge.


The room was elegantly decorated, with the oversized sofas and a thick patterned rug dominating everything else. A small glass chandelier hung from the roof, but it was probably never used in the summer thanks to the light pouring in from the massive windows on the front wall. A fireplace took pride of place in the room, underneath yet more marble in the form of a mantelpiece. Upon it were just three photo frames, and each one had a picture of the two of them inside it, looking incredibly happy. The central one seemed to call out to her, so she studied it, picking it up in her hands and taking a good, hard look.


Callum and herself looked a little younger in it, something she had only really noticed upon glancing at her own reflection in the glass. They were smiling. She was wearing a simple, clean, white wedding dress and him a slick, black suit. It seemed they were in a rural area from the heavily green and tree filled background, but once again she was drawing an absolute blank.


“Do you remember that day at all?” Came his voice from behind.


“No.”


“It was wonderful, and you couldn’t have looked any more beautiful if you’d tried,”


“Where was the wedding?” She asked.


“In Catterington, it’s a small village where your father lives. Well, your adopted father. There’s this amazing little chapel, and you were determined to have your wedding there from the moment you spotted it. The only problem was that it was tiny, much too small to fit all of our family and friends in, so you convinced the minister there to let us set up a camera inside and put some chairs outside on the grounds. Then we broadcast the entire ceremony outside so that everyone could see it and join in.”


Still nothing came back to her. Why was she being refused to remember such a dear and momentous occasion in her life? It was so frustrating she wanted to smash the picture into a million pieces, but instead she placed it carefully back onto the mantelpiece.


“That was four years ago, and yes we were young, but we were also madly in love.”


Sara took a seat on one of the sofas, Callum sat down next to her, but not too close she noticed.


“So, is there anything else you’d like to know?”


“What do I do for an living?”


“Well, in case you can’t tell, you’re an interior decorator. All this is your work.” He gestured his arm around the room. “I have to say, you’re bloody good at it too.”


“Where do I work?”


“Well, you work from home, but you’re practically always out on visits to clients houses so you hardly spend any time here.”


Sara noticed it, even if Callum hadn’t. A hesitation in his speech when talking about her not spending much time here. At least she could say for certain that she was astute.


“What about this house?”


“What about it?”


“Who lives here?”


“Just us two, for about three and a half years.”


Sara paused. She studied his face. He continued to look just the tiniest bit evasive.


“And when was the last time you saw me?”


“You mean before the accident?” He briefly turned his head. “Well, it was just before you left this morning.”


“So I spent the night here?”


“Of course. We’re married, why wouldn’t we-“


Sara, in a moment that surprised even her, took the key she had been grasping in her pocket and pulled it out. She pounced onto a clearly surprised Callum, who tried to back away instinctively but not quickly enough, and grabbed him by the throat holding the metal object to his skin with anger written all over her body.


“What the hell?!” He tried to yell, struggling to get his words out.


“Why are you lying to me?”


“I’m not lying to you!”


“You’re doing it right now!” She poked the key a little further into his neck. He gulped and yelped in pain. “Do it again and I’ll draw blood! Now tell me again, why are you lying to me?”


“What makes you so sure I am?”


“The dirty plates and cutlery in the kitchen aren’t doubled up, the mostly empty fridge with ingredients that would suit the lifestyle of a batchelor not a married couple, the crap I had to clear off the passenger seat in the car when I got in earlier, even the way you talk. All of it make it bloody obvious that you and I aren’t living together. Even if you’d come up with a decent lie, like I’d been on holiday, I might’ve believed you! Luckily for me you’re a horrendous liar.”


In the excitement of her rant, Sara poked the tip of the key onto Callum’s windpipe and he yelped, so she moved it away.


“All right, all right! We don’t live together any more, we separated a couple of months ago!”


“Then why lie?”


“Because I still love you!”


If there was one answer she hadn’t been expecting, that had been it. Without even thinking about it, she relaxed her grip of Callum and shifted back in her seat, giving him some breathing room while he started to rub his neck with his hands.


“I had a chance to try and put things right again between us, that was the limit of my maliciousness.” He pushed himself further back from Sara on the sofa, slumping down on the very end. “It was out of the blue. You came home one evening, just laid it on me and told me you were fed up of us and you wanted to leave. I thought things were great between us, so of course I was shocked. You never even gave me a warning that anything was bothering you, I actually thought we were doing amazing so why you changed your mind so suddenly I have no idea.


“Then, a few weeks after just about convincing you that we should separate for a while rather than divorce, while I was still pretty messed up about the whole thing, I get a call from a doctor who tells me you were involved in an incident this morning. That you were ok but you might have trouble recollecting any memory from the past year, possibly longer. I just had this absolutely insane idea that if that were true, if you really didn’t know what happened, that maybe I could try and convince you that we were still together and that you’d settle right in to where we were before.”


Sara wondered how much of this were the genuine truth. If she had upped and abandoned him, there must have been a good reason to do so, and what was it?


“I didn’t plan it out like some villain; I just turned up, assessed the situation and thought I’d give it a try. I mean it just happened, what else could it have been other than a hasty decision? And what harm could I have possibly done? You loved me, at least you did at some point, so what I did I don’t believe was unethical, just trying to make sense of the situation. If you really didn’t love me you’d come to the same conclusion as you did originally, then at least it wouldn’t be so much of a surprise. Yes, it’s absolutely insane logic and a little bit unfair, but what you did was worse. You crushed my heart for no reason.”


At first Sara just sat there, absorbing all of his words. Callum sat opposite, looking at her. He still bore a red mark underneath his jawline but nothing that would last very long.


“So let me understand this.” Sara began, calm and unthreatening, in stark contrast to moments ago. “You genuinely thought there was a possibility that not only I would buy this illusion, but that I would never recollect anything from the past two months and that things would go back to what you call ‘normal’? Despite it being made clear that I wanted nothing to do with you?”


“In my defence, when you agreed to a separation, a part of me thinks you hadn’t completely dissolved this relationship.”


“That’s your justification for all of this?”


“No! I mean, I always knew it was destined for failure, but between my certainty that you still had some sort of feelings toward me before this morning and knowing that telling you the truth or leaving you on your own would have closed the book once and for all, I figured that I had nothing to lose. The thing is, I still love you, as much as I did when we first met. I always have and I thought you felt the same. Love makes you do crazy things.”


“Love? You’re using that as an excuse to absolve yourself of any guilt for doing all of this incredibly creepy stuff?”


“I’m not trying to abs-“


“Enough!” Screamed Sara, reacting as if she’d suddenly had her wick lit. Callum quietened almost instantly, shrinking back a little. “Just enough. I don’t need to hear any more from you today.”


Sara stood up quickly, and she casually slipped her keys back into her pocket. She knew this guy wouldn’t ever try anything on her after observing him for the past few minutes.


“If you thought there was a future for our relationship, I’m afraid to tell you that thanks to your little stunt today, there won’t be. Not now, not ever. I’m not staying here a second longer. I don’t know what stuff is mine or what’s yours, but I’m going to speak to a divorce lawyer who I’m sure will help me to work all of it out. Until that time, I don’t ever want to hear a single word from you ever again.”


Taking one look around the room, she headed out of the room and towards the front door.


“Please Sara!” Callum followed, his eyes now watering and clearly in some distress. “Don’t make rash decisions without understanding the last few years we spent together!”


“What difference will that make huh?” She responded with a little bite in her tone.


“If you find yourself, hours from now or even weeks, remembering the love you once felt for me, you’ll regret saying this. You might even understand why I did what I did!”


“If that’s even a possibility, I hope these memories never return.”


Sara opened the front door and slammed it shut before he had a chance to respond. And then she wondered where the hell she was going to go.


Next Chapter: CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter 9

Read from the start here: Chapter One


As promised, here is a draft of the next Chapter in this series. At this point, I am mainly trying to work on completing a basic cut of the whole story before I go back and iron out details and descriptions, so hopefully the completed draft will be a whole lot better and more consistent. Let me know what you think!


* * * * * * *


The office bore a faint aroma of wood polish and coffee which made Susan’s stomach turn. The absurdity of what had happened a few minutes ago didn’t numb the shock of how close she had come to a serious injury, and every time that thought came around she felt a clammy shiver spread through her body. She’d been looking for a way to give up caffeine; nothing would beat this.


Focusing on anything she could to take her mind off the nerves, she looked around Crutch’s private quarters from her seat in front of his desk. A shade of blue adorned the walls, which were intriguingly bare, while the shelves held just a few filing boxes, and apart from the chairs around his sparsely covered desk there was no other furniture. Susan wondered if he had planned the look in such a way that nothing could be gleaned from it about him. It was certainly feasible. Amidst the minimalist surroundings, she found herself remembering the last time she had sat here.


It was in fact the only other time she had been in the room with The Trust’s influential leader, and it transpired on her first day three years ago. The surveillance arm of the Government had only recently been established and the office still had that fresh feeling, not yet tainted by the familiar groove and routine of a million footsteps. Every new employee, of which six had started that same day, was given an induction to the company. The morning had consisted of a tour around the entire workplace, starting with the above ground levels which housed the lowest tiered departments such as maintenance and administration, before making their way downwards, checking off Research & Investigation, Data Storage and others. It was merely a formality. A shaking of hands, a rigidly rehearsed welcome and a courteous offer of help should she need anything. It was clear to her then that there would never be a good enough reason to take him up on that offer. He was a man with sparse idle time, certainly none for lower level employees. Even advancing up the ranks in the following two years hadn’t allowed her the privilege to call upon him, but she didn’t take it to heart.


Something about the man sat right with her. During the important meetings she could sense a little emotion behind the confident speeches he gave, some heart and soul which gave the words a weight that kept people listening. She wondered if it came from a loving wife or a proud son or if it was just his nature, but curiously he’d never shared any details about his personal life with anyone. All she knew about him was his work, and that was likely all she would ever know. That might go to explain the lack of personal effects in his environment.


Before she had time to peruse this or distract herself further, she heard the doors behind her open up and quickly she stood up and spun around to face them. First to walk through them was Crutch. He wore the same expression he had when he entered the meeting room earlier, a steely, focused look which gave nothing away. Behind him, looking a little more puffed out in the chest than before was Dougal Smith the army general, who strode into the room assertively, hands behind his back and offering little in the way of friendliness. However, rather more curious than the two VIP’s who came in was who followed them in.


Dressed in dusty red camo-suits and each sporting a high tech helmet under their arms were two people she’d never seen before, one male and one female. The guy had rugged good looks with sharp blue eyes, while the female was slender with smooth brunette hair all tied up in a ponytail. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to suppose these two were with Dougal and therefore had links to the Army, but as far as why they had come here, nothing immediately clicked.


“Good morning Susan.” Lionel croaked as he lowered his stout frame into his desk chair, at the same time beckoning the others to approach his desk and for her to sit down. “Let us dispose of the pleasantries and allow me to get straight to the point.”


Like the Hobian Desert lake beds on Plomin, Susan’s mouth was bone dry. She reached out and picked up the glass of water that had appeared in front of her on the desk, taking a long cool sip. As she did so, Dougal took the seat next to her while the two soldiers stood silently behind them both, with the man uncomfortably close to her.


“Rogan’s reappearance this morning is a primary concern to the safety of Natalos. Whatever brought him back and whatever he’s planning to do, we need to know right away.” Crutch enforced this point by jabbing his finger onto the desk surface, but neither his facial expression nor tone changed. “He’s not going to take it easy. He knows we’ll be on his case immediately. We want to take him out before he is able to launch his own attack and it’s not too speculative to say he will be lusting for a lot of blood. Never before have I seen a man so consumed with hatred with so much power.” He left a distinct pause before continuing. “Before anything goes ahead however, there’s one issue. We need to confirm that Rogan is alive.”


Susan was perplexed. If there was an issue about whether he was still alive, then what was the meeting he had just held been about?


“We’ve analysed all the data we have access to and the conclusion is almost certain, but I’m not willing to progress with any action until I’ve confirmed one hundred per cent that it’s not a trick of some kind.” Came Crutch’s response, likely anticipating Susan’s concerns. “There is no room for error in a case of this significance.”


It didn’t take a particularly smart person to work out where this was leading, and Susan had an intelligence quotient of 164 to quickly get her there.


“So you need me to confirm he’s alive?”


Crutch paused expectedly.


“That is correct.”


“Forgive me sir, but I’m not experienced with any of the surveillance equipment, I’ve only ever been trained to-“


“Susan,” Crutch raised his hand briefly, Susan paused and let him continue. “We’ve analysed everything we can here, that isn’t what I’m asking of you.”


At this point, Susan began to pick up on the smallest inflections in his voice, that there may be something more to this than she thought. “Then... what are you asking of me sir?”


“We need a visual identification.”


“But our coverage doesn’t include Kadira, so how...“


All of a sudden, it dawned on Susan. The room deafened her with its silence, and she could hear her own heart beating a thousand times faster than it had before.


“Sir,” She took a small breath. “Surely you are aware that I don’t have any field experience?”


“I am.” This time the reply came from beside her, from the hulking great leader sat several inches to her left. Dougal Smith may tower over The Trust’s chief, but when it came to who demanded more respect, her money would always be on Crutch. He spoke in a commanding tone, and looked over at Susan from his seat beside her with a smug grin. “Sorry, we are. Mr Crutch has informed me that you are the most suitable candidate despite your lack of practical experience in the field. You’ll have two of my finest agents by your side the whole time to protect you. These are agents Selina and Rashwad.”


The general waved his arm behind him, and the two soldiers raised a single hand each to form a salute, before quickly returning to their former rigid stances.


“They will escort you from just outside Kadira’s capital, right into the heart of his headquarters, where you will make a positive identification, after which they will bring you back out safely.”


Susan couldn’t speak. There were too many questions, issues, illogicality’s to this whole situation and none of them would surface to the point in her brain where she could express them. She forced herself to think clearly, as she had been taught in crisis management training when she first began. First she cleared her mind then she focused on one particular point, directing her question once again to her boss.


“Please sir, would you permit me to ask a few questions?”


“Be quick about it, every second is crucial.” Crutch sat forward, as if expectant to what she was about to say. He probably was, she thought, there must be a solid reason for why she was being asked to do this.


“Ok. My first question; with two qualified agents who can supposedly infiltrate Rogan’s location, why do you feel you need somebody from The Trust to ‘tag along’?”


“I only trust one of my own agents to be able to identify Rogan. This is a highly classified mission, and as such these two agents have agreed to be kept in isolation after the task is complete, until the crisis becomes publicised. That could be days, weeks or months”


At least that made some sort of sense.


“Then I come to the more obvious question. We have at least five former agents in this company who’ve come from military backgrounds, so why have you chosen me above them?”


“You rank above all of them.”


Crutch leaned back, clasping his fingers together and stretching them on the clean surface of his desk.


“But having a higher rank doesn’t translate into doing a better job on the field, sir.” Her response was instant. She already felt like she had answered too aggressively, but there was no going back now. “In fact, what you’re asking of me is something that appears to require a lot of specific skills and tactical knowledge. Surely sending Chapman or Gulliver would be the better option?”


“Susan, there’s more to this than simply a matter of trust or experience. You were chosen because you have a collection of qualities that differ from anybody else in this company, military history or no.”


Having never considered herself particularly stand out amongst her peers, it boggled her to work out what Crutch had meant by this. After quickly mentally checklisting herself against them, she concluded that all of her individual attributes were shared by at least one other employee within the company, perhaps even her department. There really was nothing that came to mind.


“What do you mean by that sir?”


“Let me be clear about this, it is nothing personal. However, when it came to selecting somebody for this mission, we had to be clear about a specific type of individual that we had to send. We had certain criteria.”


“Which are what exactly, sir?”


“Your rank, your trustworthiness and your… family situation”


Susan couldn’t believe she’d forgotten about that fact, but it seemed that it was in truth the only thing about her that mattered to him and to the mission. The only reason she was being asked instead of other stronger, more experienced staff. She had been raised in a children’s home until she was sixteen, and lived independently for the rest of it. She had no family to speak of.


“So it’s a suicide mission.”


“Not at all.” Dougal Smith seized the opportunity to be able to hear his own voice again. “We have no intel that would suggest this is a one way ticket-“


“But you’re not entirely hopeful. Besides, this is the biggest threat to the peace of our nation you’re asking me to investigate in the centre of his domain. Of course it’s a suicide mission!”


“Possibly.” Crutch stopped Dougal before he could say any more. The honesty, while it would have been appreciated much earlier, surprised Susan. “But I’m not sending you because I think you’re likely to come back in a box. I have faith in your skills.”


“But sir, I…”


Susan stopped for a moment. This was an order she was being given by the most senior figure at the agency. There was no way she could refuse it without putting her career and the rest of her working life at risk. However, this was an order to die in possibly the most insane way possible, doesn’t she deserve to feel safe and secure especially as this wasn’t a part of her job description? And then she remembered back to her very first day, and in particular the moment of signing all the paperwork. An image flashed up to the front, one sheet of paper, marked with a very distinct picture of a skull and crossbones. The one that gave her employer the right to ask her to do very dangerous things if there was good enough reason to ask it of her, say for example, the safety of the universe they lived in and worked for. Then she remembered writing her signature on the bottom line. Game over.


In a way, she knew this day would come, it felt like a destiny. She just hadn’t expected it so soon, without any warning to speak of. Unless of course you counted half an hour as a warning. Susan sighed. She straightened herself up in her seat and looked straight ahead at Lionel, who hadn’t said a word since she tried to object. Maybe he knew what she was thinking? It wouldn’t have surprised her, but either way she knew she had to do this. Besides, what was the point of doing this work if she wasn’t prepared to put her life on the line to defend others? Wasn’t that the whole point of it?


“Ok sir. I’m ready.”


Crutch gave off the slightest indication of his satisfaction with her decision, with a tiny, almost unnoticeable crinkling of his eyes and the corners of his cracked lips curling upwards. Dougal didn’t hide his so well, grinning like a man who’d just gotten himself a bargain.


“What do I have to do?”


Next Chapter: CHAPTER TEN

Updates

I wrote a decent draft of chapter 10 and have been working on 9 today, so expect those to be up in the next day or two (or twenty, knowing me). That is all.