‘Deena, I⁠—’

  ‘Honey, who is it?’ came Aaron’s voice from further inside and her sneer only grew, but only likely because she’d hoped to get rid of Callum before her husband realised what was going on.

  ‘Aaron, it’s me,’ Callum called out, deciding it best to just get his brother’s attention.

  Silence for a few moments before Deena’s face disappeared. The door closed and he could hear them talking the other side – a hissed conversation, trying to keep their voices low but failing.

  Eventually the door opened, no chain now, and Aaron was standing there, his wife hovering over his shoulder and not doing a very good job of hiding her distaste for Callum. And he knew exactly where the distaste was coming from.

  He mostly deserved it. Mostly, but not entirely.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Callum asked.

  ‘It’s been a while, brother,’ Aaron said, offering a hand. ‘This is… pretty unexpected.’

  ‘But not without good reason. Please, can I come in and explain?’

  ‘You’re in trouble?’ Aaron said, picking up on Callum’s nervousness and glancing over his brother’s shoulder to the street beyond.

  ‘Yeah. I think so.’

  ‘Jesus, Aaron,’ Deena said, ‘we don’t need any trouble here.’

  ‘Please?’ Callum said. ‘Just let me explain.’

  ‘OK,’ Aaron said. ‘Come on.’

  He moved aside and Callum headed on in. Aaron closed the door behind them.

  ‘Lea’s dead,’ Callum blurted. He really didn’t know how else to start the conversation.

  Deena’s face fell. Shock, horror. Aaron didn’t react at all.

  ‘Did you…?’ Deena started and even if she didn’t finish, Callum figured what she was trying to say.

  ‘Of course I didn’t hurt her!’

  Though he knew exactly why she might suspect that, even if it was – largely – unwarranted.

  Callum glanced around the hall. At the photos on the walls. None of him. None of Lea. None from one of the biggest days in Aaron and Deena’s lives either.

  But their relationship had been complex right from the start, and in truth they’d stuck it out for far longer than Callum had ever imagined possible. The big hurdle? Deena had originally been Callum’s girlfriend. They were in love, in his eyes at least, and were together for more than two years until he found out she’d been sleeping with a co-worker for over six months. So he’d ended it, kicked her out of their flat. And that should have been that. Except a little over a year later she’d hooked up with his brother…

  Not a total surprise, in a way, even if Callum had hated the idea of it. Not because he still held feelings for Deena – no positive ones, anyway – but because he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting Aaron like she’d hurt him. Yet the relationship made sense in some ways. The two of them weren’t strangers. Callum and Aaron and Deena had all been part of the same friend group back in their schooldays. Even if the boys were very different to one another, the fact they were only separated by one school year meant they ended up hanging in the same circles for years.

  Perhaps Aaron should have known better, could have done better. But who was Callum to get involved? Both parties were well aware of the past.

  So even if he hadn’t intervened – much – things had never been easy between Callum and Deena since the relationship had started with Aaron. But her infidelity didn’t explain her animosity towards Callum. That was down to something else.

  ‘Tell me what happened,’ Aaron said.

  ‘I don’t even really know,’ Callum said, shaking his head in despair, trying to hold himself together. ‘The police came to my job site today. Told me she’d been killed in a motorbike accident in Bucharest.’

  Aaron put his hand onto Callum’s shoulder. ‘Shit. I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go sit down.’

  Callum nodded. Deena looked really put out still.

  ‘Babe, get us some water or something?’ Aaron said before directing Callum through to the table in a small dining room at the back of the house.

  They took seats. Deena brought in two glasses of water and hovered, still suspicious as hell.

  ‘But that… doesn’t explain why you’re here?’ Aaron said, part question, part statement.

  ‘She told me she was in Prague,’ Callum said. ‘And a motorbike accident? She’s never ridden one in all the time I’ve known her.’

  ‘So… what are you saying?’

  ‘What I’ve explained so far is only the start. When I got home, there were two people already there, inside. A man and a woman. They claimed Lea wasn’t who she said she was. Before I know it, the police turn up. They start shooting at each other!’

  Callum laughed at the ridiculousness of it. He knew how outlandish it’d all sound to his brother. It certainly did to him. Aaron looked really confused now. Deena grunted like she was hearing the ramblings of a madman.

  ‘I’m not fucking making this up!’ Callum shouted.

  ‘Shh, keep it down,’ Aaron said. ‘No one’s saying that. But… Cal, what the hell is this?’

  ‘Exactly. The police got me away from those intruders, took me back to London. This… office or something. I’m interviewed by a detective, then a guy from MI6. They’re telling me Lea worked there. Was killed on an operation overseas. And they think I know something about it.’

  ‘And do you?’ Deena asked, still sneery.

  ‘No!’

  ‘And now… you’re here? Are you on the run?’ Aaron asked.

  ‘I… think so.’

  ‘Shit…’ Deena said. ‘So any minute we could have the police breaking down our door⁠—’

  ‘Deena! Why don’t you… go and check the boys,’ Aaron said. ‘Give us a minute. And keep fucking calm, will you?’

  She hesitated but then humphed and stormed out. Neither brother said a word for a while, both looking around each other.

  ‘This is something,’ Aaron said eventually.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ Callum said. ‘What to believe. Who to trust.’

  ‘You can trust me,’ Aaron said, putting his hand on top of Callum’s.

  An unexpected gesture, though it genuinely did provide comfort, if only fleetingly.

  ‘MI6, you say?’

  Callum nodded.

  ‘Damn.’

  Callum had no idea what that meant. ‘She lied to me,’ he said. ‘About everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry… Did the police say what they want from you? It doesn’t make sense that you’re a suspect in anything, based on what you said.’

  ‘You’re right. It doesn’t. And I don’t know exactly what they want, only that Lea was killed over some intelligence she had. Data that’s now missing. And they think I might know about it, know where it is.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But, I mean… do you? As in, could you?’

  He didn’t get what the question meant at first, but then a thought swirled and swirled.

  Claire Simmonds.

  ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Callum, think about it. If what you’re saying is true… These kinds of people? Police, intelligence agencies… They’re not just going to come after you for no reason. If they suspect you know something, there must be a good reason why. Maybe there is something. And you just missed it.’

  ‘Because I’m an idiot?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘But you’ve always thought it.’

  Aaron scoffed but said nothing. But Callum knew it was the truth. He loved and despised his brother in equal measure.

  They were like chalk and cheese. Physically, Aaron was as tall as Callum but lean and wiry. He had a handsome, almost boyish look about him which together with his wide smile and his natural charm made him popular with pretty much everyone, but particularly girls. And he was so damn clever too. Intellectually smart but also calm and considered and able to think things through rationally, logically. No wonder he’d aced every damn exam he’d ever taken, had gone off to UCL to study business management, and had since worked his way up the corporate ladder to partnership at a major accounting firm.

  Growing up he’d been the shining jewel of the family at every stage. Callum was the unpolished turd. Of course, to start with, no one had known about his diagnosis. Up until he was fourteen, his parents and everyone else had flitted between assuming he was either simply bone idle and couldn’t be bothered to try at school, or was just plain stupid – the latter the most usual. If he hadn’t been so insistent about his struggles at school, he’d never have gotten the dyslexia diagnosis and he’d have headed into adulthood probably thinking the same about himself as everyone else.

  Not that the diagnosis, at such a late age, had really helped much. The school he was at had no teachers experienced in dealing with it and he was still put through all the same classes and exams as everyone else without any special attention. Which explained why he’d failed so many.

  At sixteen he’d left education and started an apprenticeship as a bricklayer. A practical job. And he’d been good at that and had worked hard, moved up to where he was now.

  But he had never had so much as a well done or congratulations from his parents who still couldn’t understand why he was so different – so much less successful – than their star son, Aaron.

  Even Callum’s sports prowess didn’t impress them much. Aaron had never been into sports, even if he was athletic enough. Callum’s natural bulky physique had seen him fight his way to a high level at rugby. Not quite high enough to make it as a pro – a further disappointment to his parents – but he’d come pretty damn close, although now even those days were mostly behind him, the toll of the brutal game on a man in his early thirties simply too much.

  His brother had the looks, the intellect and the charm. Callum had the brawn. Yet even that had bitten him, in more ways than one.

  He glanced around the room again. A few photo frames in here too. Lots of smiles, lots of good times between Aaron and Deena and their boys.

  But, just like in the hallway, not a single picture of their wedding day.

  That was Callum’s fault, and the reason for Deena’s continued hostility towards him.

  He’d never been fully comfortable with his brother marrying his cheating ex and there’d been a few uneasy standoffs between the brothers when Aaron and Deena had started dating, and in the time that followed. But everything had come to a head the night before the wedding. The brothers were together with the rest of their family in a hotel near the venue. The evening had gone pretty well, really, until alcohol had got the better of them both. By midnight only the two of them were left drinking in the hotel bar and they carried on until after one, drink after drink, recalling good times and bad and… Honestly, Callum couldn’t even remember the exact spark…

  Aaron claimed Callum threw the first punch, angered by something he’d said. In Callum’s blurred memory it was him who’d insulted his brother and Aaron who’d grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and angrily shoved him up against a wall before that first punch.

  Whichever was the correct version of events, the unfortunate truth was that that first punch had been followed by a second and then a third which had caused Aaron to keel over and smack his head off the corner of the bar.

  Perhaps the short-lived fight had been brewing for some time before that, but Callum was no aggressor, really. Other than that one time, he couldn’t ever recall lashing out in anger. Yeah, he was big, strong, capable physically, and was certainly no stranger to physical confrontation, but in his whole life he’d never started a fight. Except perhaps that one. If Aaron was to be believed.

  Whoever was right, the next morning, the day of the wedding, Aaron had one black eye, almost entirely swollen shut, four stitches in his other eye where he’d hit the bar, a bulbous nose, and a split bottom lip.

  The wedding went ahead – although it’d been touch and go – and the wedding photographer was still there to do his job that day, but Callum had never seen a single picture from the event. Not even any of the many that had been taken without Aaron in them, as though Deena – and perhaps Aaron too – had just decided to forget about the whole thing.

  Of course, Callum had been profusely sorry come the morning after the fight. And over time, Aaron had said he’d forgiven Callum. But Deena certainly never had, and the brothers had simply carried on, the years passing with that regretful moment separating them over an ever-growing distance.

  ‘Come on, Cal, give me something,’ Aaron said. ‘You came here for my help. So how can I help?’

  But Callum was too busy in his own mind.

  ‘You need to think, Cal. The police think you have this information. And you either do or you don’t⁠—’

  ‘I don’t⁠—’

  ‘But even if you don’t, perhaps they think you could have access to it. That you know something that could help them. Did… did Lea really never tell you anything at all?’

  Claire Simmonds.

  ‘I… don’t think so. But… maybe.’

  ‘Maybe what?’

  ‘There’s somewhere I need to go. To be sure.’

  Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He nodded as though understanding. Good for him, because Callum certainly didn’t.

  Deena came back into the doorway. She stood there with her arms folded, still sneery but also a little smug.

  ‘You’re on the news,’ she said.

  Ten minutes later and standing over the laptop in the dining room, the three of them had rewatched the clip on the BBC website five times.

  Lea Torrence, a UK government employee, had been found dead in Bucharest. The authorities wanted to speak to two men in connection with the death. Callum Murphy. Denis Petit.

  ‘They’re saying death, not accidental death, not murder,’ Aaron said ponderously, as though thinking out loud. ‘And you’re wanted in connection with the death. You’re not a suspect.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Deena said. ‘We need to call the police, Aaron.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ Callum said.

  ‘Why not?’ she said. ‘What have you got to hide?’

  ‘It’s not that… simple. This goes further than the police. I don’t know if they can be trusted.’

  ‘Bullshit, you⁠—’

  ‘Who’s the other guy?’ Aaron said, cutting in.

  A very good question.

  ‘I’ve met him before. He came to our fucking wedding. Lea said he was a coworker⁠—’

  ‘So this guy’s MI6 too?’

  ‘I haven’t got a clue. All I know is he’s called Denis and he and Lea knew each other pretty well. And… when the police were talking to me… they said Lea was killed, but the data she had was missing. And so was another MI6 agent.’

  ‘Aaron… we just need to call the police,’ Deena said.

  ‘No,’ he said, holding his hand up and she looked as mad as she was shocked by his stony intervention. ‘Not until we know what’s happening. I’ll call Jack. He can help.’

  ‘Jack?’ Callum asked.

  ‘He’s a lawyer. About the best damn lawyer. He’ll know what to do.’

  ‘No, I don’t want anyone else involved.’

  ‘You already involved us,’ Deena said. ‘Aaron, we could be in serious trouble here⁠—’

  ‘I didn’t come here to cause trouble.’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘Because it was… convenient.’

  Deena threw her hands in the air in despair. ‘Wow! I’m so glad this is convenient for you, Callum.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. I mean…’ He turned to his brother. ‘I told you. There’s somewhere I think I should go. Where there might be some answers. But I need your help to get there.’

  ‘Aaron, you are not leaving this house tonight!’ Deena shouted.

  ‘Where?’ Aaron asked his brother.

  ‘Near Bristol. Clemens.’

  Claire Simmonds.

  ‘Clemens?’ Aaron said confusedly.

  ‘I can explain on the way.’

  ‘He’s not leaving this house!’ Deena shouted again.

  ‘OK,’ Aaron said. ‘I can take you there. But I’m calling Jack on the way. I want to know where we stand, if this all blows up in our faces.’

  Callum thought about it for a few seconds.

  ‘OK. Call the lawyer. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘Then you should turn yourself in,’ Deena said, though nowhere near as animated as before. More dejected now.

  Aaron moved over to her and put his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said to Callum before heading on out.

  10

  The hotel was basic, functional, convenient. Callum and Aaron shared a twin room, not to save on money but because both were wracked with nerves. Callum had barely slept, his mind twisting through the night with a mishmash of thoughts: good times with Lea, bad times with her, the moment of her death – imagined in his mind, at least. He also thought about the previous day’s many events: the police, the interview with the mysterious Andrew White, the people in his home, the news reports naming him as a person of interest…

  Too much. He needed something to clear his head. But what? He finished his coffee but as he put his cup down on the small table in the corner of the bedroom his eyes rested on the brown envelope on the bed. He reached across, picked it up and took the pictures out and looked at them one after the other, over and over.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Aaron came out.

  ‘Still thinking it through?’ he asked.

  ‘What else am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Those people…’

  ‘Have to be connected somehow. Why else would that White guy have showed me these?’

  ‘But we don’t even know who they all are.’

  ‘We know of them.’

  Now they did, anyway. Abdul Hadjam. A French businessman, apparently. A simple Google search of his image had identified him, and Aaron and Callum had both scoured what they could online since then – Aaron finding it easier, given he could read a news article more quickly and easily than Callum.

 

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