Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (2 page)

“
Just so long as the head
that rolls isn’t mine.” Callum couldn’t allow this mission to get
out of control, not with junior MI-5 agents lurking in the wings,
waiting for him to slip up. He walked a thin line as it was, having
come back from Afghanistan with enough Post-traumatic Stress
Disorder (known as PTSD) to feel like he had to hide it. The fact
that everyone came back from Afghanistan with issues of one form or
another meant that his obsessions were so minor they didn’t prevent
him from working. But he didn’t care to advertise them either. As
his American father had said, “Son, the war screwed you up, but not
so much they feel they should mention it.”

It might be, for example, that the
goons deep in the belly of Thames House knew all about Callum’s
current compulsion to wash his hands a little too often, even if
the IT department swore they hadn’t put cameras in the loo. Callum
didn’t trust them to tell the truth. Admittedly, that was an
occupational hazard.

“
The other news could be
better,” said Jones. “Chepstow is having a fair today—hundreds of
people are expected.”

“
Bloody hell. We need to
shut it down,” Callum said.

But even as Callum spoke, Natasha was
shaking her head from the back seat.

“
Hold on, Jones.” Callum
turned to look at her. “What?”

“
If nobody is here, if all
Meg sees when she arrives is our men, she’s smart enough not to
approach. A crowd might be better,” Natasha said.

Callum directed his voice towards the
speaker again. “I take that back. We’ll stick to the current
plan.”

“
A crowd will give them
cover,” said Jones.

“
But it will also make them
think they’re safe,” Callum said. “We can’t let them get away
again.”

“
The men are good,” said
Jones. “They’ll see to it.”

“
You’ve got the camera
feeds?”

“
Eight of them,” said
Jones. “The only difficult spot is the rear of the castle. The
cameras in the car park are working, but the two that cover the
west side are out. You’ll have to mind that back gate in
particular. That’s where we’re completely blind.”

“
The gate was locked when I
visited Chepstow a few months ago,” Natasha said. “I know because I
wanted to use it but the custodian told me I couldn’t.”

“
I doubt that something
like that would have changed,” Callum said, “but we shouldn’t
presume.”

“
Right,” said Jones.
“According to the plans I have here, the original entrance was
destroyed and that gate is used only for maintenance.”

“
I’m orienting the men
now,” Natasha said, one hand to her ear piece. “They’ll patrol
there specifically.”

Jones disconnected and Callum scrubbed
at his hair with one hand, feeling every one of his thirty-four
years. Natasha had deep circles under her eyes too, not surprising
since neither of them had slept in twenty-four hours. If they
stayed at this much longer, their boss would replace Callum’s team
with a different unit. Tired men made mistakes.

“
Worst case, the river
patrol has to scoop our fugitives out of the Wye,” Natasha
said.

“
I’d prefer it didn’t come
to that,” Callum said. “I can see the headline now:
Pregnant Woman Evades Security Service, Jumps into
Wye River!”

“
Have you ever been inside
the castle?” Natasha said.

“
I dated a girl who brought
me here soon after I arrived at Cardiff. It was summer, so warmer
then.” Callum checked the sky as he slipped his gloves back on.
“Though admittedly, not by much.”

Natasha nodded her head towards the
entrance to the castle. Only three people had passed across their
line of sight since they’d arrived. “Where should I set up the
command post?”

“
You’ll be my point person
here and coordinate with the team,” Callum said. “I’ll take the
balcony when it comes to it.”

“
They’ll never reach it,”
Natasha said. “We could use you elsewhere. Maybe on the
battlement.” She gazed up at the crenellations on the closest
tower. The rain had turned the normally yellowish stone a dark
grey.

“
We’ve underestimated them
from the beginning,” Callum said. “I’d like to start thinking two
steps ahead.” The driver had left the engine running and the heat
bathed Callum’s face. Callum relaxed against the headrest. “We need
to move to a less noticeable location. We don’t want to scare them
off before we’ve started.”

It took until eight o’clock to contact
the custodian of the castle. By then, the man was already on his
way in. To top the morning off right, the rain started to fall
again, though the crowd that had gathered to await the opening of
the castle seemed unperturbed by it.

Natasha, talking through her headset,
had been patiently directing the men. As the time neared
eight-thirty, she tapped Callum’s shoulder. “Have you noticed what
everyone is wearing?”

Too late, Callum realized that the
crowds not only would hide Meg, Llywelyn, and Goronwy, but would
provide them an easier cover than he had expected: everyone in the
crowd that was forming outside the castle gate wore medieval
garb.

Callum grabbed the binoculars and put
them to his eyes, focusing on one individual at a time as he worked
his way through the crowd. It was one thing to find the three
fugitives in broad daylight, but with the rain, hoods were up and
cloaks were tucked tight under chins. Callum’s men were going to
have a hard time spotting them, even with cameras watching
keenly.

Callum turned up his earpiece.
“Driscoll, get Ted to the front gate. We need someone closer who
can recognize them on sight.”

“
Yes, sir,” Driscoll said.
“But we risk Meg spotting him.”

“
Better that than to lose
her entirely,” Callum said.

“
We can watch the crowd for
anyone who balks as he approaches the entrance,” Natasha
said.

“
I don’t like this.” Callum
turned to Natasha. “I need a better picture of what’s happening.
I’m too far away.”

Natasha put one hand to her ear,
listening, and held up her other hand to Callum. Then she said,
“The custodian has arrived and is waiting for you at the castle
entrance.”

“
Excellent.” Callum got out
of the car, checked that his earpiece was working properly, and
headed towards the castle gate. His trench coat with the collar up
didn’t fit in with the re-enactors, but at least he wasn’t in black
like his men. Their coats hid their firearms from the crowd, but
they still looked like cockroaches on a bed sheet. At this point,
however, it was too late to find them medieval clothing. It wasn’t
as if Callum could buy that kind of attire at Marks and
Spencer.

Welsh gun laws were more
than strict. People weren’t used to seeing weaponry outside of
their televisions. Callum didn’t wear his gun openly either. He
didn’t want to intimidate the innocent onlookers more than he had
to. Callum wanted this to be easy. It
should
have been easy from the
start.

Callum eased through the crowd,
smiling and nodding, trying to blend in and pretend he enjoyed
medieval pageantry. All the while, he cursed the rain, the bad luck
that had brought Meg to Chepstow on this day, the errant custodian
who had only just arrived, and Smythe for his initial heavy-handed
approach to their fugitives. Remarkably, Smythe had never learned
that much more could be accomplished with honey than with
vinegar.

As promised, the custodian was waiting
for Callum at the castle entrance and unlocked the door as he
approached. The custodian didn’t immediately push the door open,
however; he just stood there, gabbing at Callum. “I don’t
understand what this is all about.”

“
You don’t need to,” Callum
said.

“
If something untoward is
going on, I need to know about it,” the man said. His expression
told Callum what he thought of this insult to his
authority.

“
No, you don’t.” Callum put
his hand on the door and shoved it inward with enough force to
knock the door handle from the custodian’s hand. The custodian
sputtered his disapproval, but Callum pushed past him and entered
Chepstow’s lower bailey.

He was alone for only a minute before
a host of organizers and re-enactors followed. With them came
Callum’s men who would watch for Meg from inside the castle. Before
they set about their task, Callum took them aside. “I want you on
the walls and in the doorways between the baileys. We stay in
constant communication.”

“
Yes, sir,” the men said in
unison.

Callum then did a complete survey of
the interior of the castle, all the way up to the rear door. It was
locked. He returned to the lower bailey and entered the gift shop,
looking for the custodian. The man wasn’t happy to see Callum, but
he delegated the ticket taking to someone else and gave Callum his
full attention. “Tell me about the back gate,” Callum
said.

“
It’s always locked,” the
man said. “Only the groundskeeper and I have keys.”

“
Is the groundskeeper here
today?”

“
He’ll be along in a
minute,” the custodian said.

“
Send him to me when he
comes in,” Callum said. “I’ll be on the balcony off the wine
cellar.”

“
Yes, sir.”

Having little faith that the custodian
would do as he requested, Callum asked Natasha to let him know when
the maintenance worker arrived. He was sorry he’d rubbed the
custodian the wrong way, but Callum had a job to do. It was
ridiculous for the man to question how he did it.

Callum made his way through the
kitchen, already busy with preparations for a medieval meal, down
the stairs, and into the wine cellar. Chepstow Castle was in better
repair than many ancient fortresses since it had never been taken
by an enemy force in battle. Still, it wasn’t what one might call
habitable, having lost its wooden infrastructure—specifically the
roofs to all its buildings and halls—centuries ago.

The room in which Callum found himself
now, however, was built in stone. Contemplating the rain, he stood
in the doorway to the balcony that overlooked the Wye River. He
couldn’t help but think about the men who’d lived here centuries
ago when the cellar was full and the purpose of the castle was to
stand as a last bastion of English strength against the miles of
Wales to the west.

Seven hundred years ago, Llywelyn ap
Gruffydd, the man Meg claimed was her husband, had died and Wales
had fallen to England. Callum hadn’t lived in Wales very long, but
only an imbecile could have failed to notice how many Welsh people
wished that had never happened. Callum stared at the puddles
forming on the uneven stones at his feet. He wished he could speak
to his father, who’d have had a thing or two to say about the day
Callum was having.

From the back of the wine cellar,
perched on a building stone that could have fallen off the balcony
wall four hundred years ago, Callum called in to Natasha. “What do
you see?”

“
I —
crackle, crackle
—someth—
crackle,
crackle
—”

“
You’re breaking
up.”

“
I —
crackle, crackle
—”

“
Forget it. It’s my fault.
I’m coming up.”

Natasha was right that waiting for Meg
in the wine cellar was a waste of his time, especially since the
stones blocked the reception for his earpiece. Callum had allowed
the knowledge that Meg had eluded them so far to cloud his
thinking. He was ascribing superpowers to a pregnant former history
professor burdened by two older men, one of whom was fresh out of
hospital. If Callum hadn’t felt that his job was somehow on the
line, he would have laughed out loud at the absurdity of his
situation.

Callum came out of the former great
hall of Chepstow Castle into a dramatically changed scene. When
he’d entered earlier, the castle had been just starting to fill.
Now, an expansive pavilion had been set up in the center of the
lower bailey. Tourists streamed through the gift shop, heading
towards either the pavilion or the middle bailey, where Callum
could hear a speaker welcoming everyone to Chepstow Castle. Three
of Callum’s men observed the movements of the crowd from the
battlement, and two more stood in the doorway between the middle
and lower bailey, checking the face of every person who went
through it.

Callum tried Natasha again. “Where are
we?”

“
I’ve moved Ted and Agent
Driscoll inside the gift shop,” Natasha said. “Ted was getting
restless and cold.”

“
How well can he see from
there?”

“
He can see better,” she
said. “We’re having people remove their hats and hoods once they’re
inside—for security purposes.”

“
Excellent,” Callum said.
“No sign of them, I assume?”

“
No, sir.”

That wasn’t excellent. While Callum
had been speaking to Natasha, the speaker in the middle bailey had
released the crowd, which surged into the lower bailey. A girl
brushed past Callum lugging an iron pot. It was so heavy, she
needed both hands on the handle to carry it. Steam rose from the
liquid inside, wafting the scent of beef and barley stew in his
direction.