A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

‘There's a limit to how far Jackson can stretch resources without attracting attention. The boss is a target, and you know about Hettie. If we surround Mark's family, it will arouse suspicion. I don't think he's a target – there's no evidence and you've not commented on any unusual activity.’ He raised his eyebrows, expecting her to confirm.

Julianna couldn't think of any occasion when they had been together that indicated he was being watched. He hadn’t talked about harassment either. ‘If you followed the breadcrumb trail, then they could, but in the opposite direction: to here.’

‘Let's hope they're too busy protecting other assets to worry about Mark or his family.’

‘I haven't met his sister. She's leaving London soon.’

‘What's her name?’

‘Ellen Clewer.’

Chris wrote it down on a scrap of paper. ‘Is she aware of what Mark did?’

‘No, I don't think so. What about their father?’

Chris leaned back in his chair. ‘Ah, William Clewer. He's not going anywhere for the time being, especially now his appeal is over.’

‘How did—’

‘Luke told Mr Haynes, who told me.’ The Haynes family network worked quickly.

‘Mark has no sympathy for his father. Fury, more like it. His dad lied a lot.’

Chris smirked. ‘And probably still is lying a lot.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Gangs. It's all about money and gangs. Rivals and allies. They're all stabbing each other in the back.’

She swore under her breath. ‘What doesn't Haynes know? He's pushed me to find stuff out by dangling Mark in front of me.’

‘You're astute. It's why Haynes likes you. He likes Mark, too. He's taken him under his wing. But Jackson Haynes style, you know?’

She didn't know. She wanted to know but probably not first hand. ‘So you don't think Mark is under any immediate threat?’

Chris shrugged his shoulders. ‘Guess that's for you to find out.’

‘I'm the one piecing everything together, aren't I?’ She rose to her feet. ‘What's the name that came up at Haydocks?’ she asked.

‘Redningsmann.’ Chris scribbled it down and handed her the note. ‘Run it through a translator and you'll see why it grabbed Jackson's attention when he read the reports that came out. He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence. He would like you to prove him wrong, if only for both of your sakes, since that’s where you’ve invested your interest.’

She ignored Chris’s smirk and stuffed the note into her jacket pocket. She didn’t need the paper; Redningsmann was already stashed in her memory. Now she was about to find out why. It wasn’t the only name Mark had mentioned. There was Redder, too.

  18

Mark

Bev and Tulip were vegetarians. Ellen was delighted. It helped break the awkwardness that came when strangers met for the first time. She had already drunk two glasses of wine by the time another couple arrived. A sanguine Ellen poured herself a third glass. Caroline, a plump lady with letterbox glasses said little, unlike the weathered Derek, the mysterious professor of archaeology.

‘I'm driving,’ he said, when Ellen passed him the wine bottle. He handed it to Mark, who helped himself to a small measure. Sobriety wasn't a requirement, but Mark wasn't in the mood for alcohol.

Mark envied Luke’s generous apartment, especially the simplicity – each room seamlessly folded into one another. Sophia summoned them to the dining table. Luke adjusted his misaligned fork before sitting down. Mark accidently knocked his onto the floor and apologised.

‘I'll get you a replacement.’ Sophia dashed to a kitchen drawer. ‘Don't worry.’

Mark had been on edge for days; he was on borrowed time. Deidre’s desperate messages had increased in frequency and she had even threatened to come down on a train. He had reassured her he was alive, and very busy. It had placated her for the time being.

While Mark took time to open up to people, Ellen possessed qualities he had not noticed before. She helped in the kitchen, collected up the dirty dishes and kept the sometimes stilted conversations going. Razzles had been a disaster, but dinner with Sophia proved a success up until the dessert course. As Luke topped up wine glasses, and Sophia and Tulip talked about the best recipes for cheesecakes, Ellen fell apart in slow motion; her capacity for alcohol tolerance was breached. She stared unfocused with a familiar glassy-eyed smirk, and burped.

‘Oops, sorry.’ She covered her mouth and slouched, almost on the cusp of slithering beneath the table top. Throughout the meal, she’d showed no interest in Derek's lengthy digressions into the world of archaeological research. Mark was peeved with her and bored of Derek.

‘I'm going to Ireland to do some field work.’ She raised her glass to her lips.

‘Oh, where?’ Derek enquired.

Startled, she spluttered, ‘South of Dublin, near Wicklow. Bronze Age site.’

Derek’s wrinkly forehead formed trenches. ‘I wasn't aware that there's an active Neolithic site near Wicklow.’

Ellen blushed. ‘I'm only going for a short while. Just to help out. It's a new thing. I've a friend, you see. One you won't know because he's Irish. I think.’ She tossed the napkin on her plate and patted her streamlined stomach. ‘Stuffed.’

‘I'm more interested in coastal archaeology,’ Derek said. ‘I'm overseeing a few projects across the country, including one in Scotland. We could do with some keen helpers there too.’

Mark winked at Ellen. Say something, he mouthed.

‘I don't like the seaside.’ She slurred the consonants into one another. ‘Don't remember any decent holidays by the sea.’ She’d regressed back to the childish attention seeker of old. She ignored Mark's warning glares. He had judicially kept out of the conversation and Luke seemed content to listen diplomatically with the same watchful eyes as his older brother.

The table was cleared and the coffee maker switched on.

Ellen tottered into the kitchen. ‘Let me do the coffee, Sophia, you’ve given us such a lovely meal. It’s the least I