It was a spur of the moment thing. A snap decision. Ben thought fuck it, leaned forward, hit reply and started typing his response to Seraphina Lewis.
Two days later, he was slinging his old green bag on the front seat of his shiny silver BMW D3 Alpina Bi-Turbo, a replacement for the blue one hed ditched at the bottom of the River Arno in Florence before Christmas, speeding off up Le Vals bumpy track, past the gatehouse and away.
If hed known how things were about to turn out, Ben would have stayed at home. Or maybe not. Because trouble seemed to draw him like a magnet. And trouble was coming, just as it always seemed to. Especially when your name was Ben Hope.
Chapter 5
I still cant believe its you, Nick Hawthorne said. Feels like such a blast from the past.
Feels strange for me too, Ben replied. Being back here after all these years. Time seems to have stood still.
Theyd finished breakfast and were walking down the stone staircase from the Great Hall. Sunlight shone from the archway that led to the south-east corner of Tom Quad.
Speaking of time, Nick said, do you have any plans for the rest of the morning, or lunch?
None in particular.
Only, Im having a few people over at my place for drinks and a bit of a buffet this lunchtime. Nothing formal, you know. Its a way for me to loosen up with a few laughs and a couple of glasses of wine before tonights performance. Why dont you come?
Id like that very much, Ben said.
Nick looked pleased. He glanced up at the clock that adorned the massive Tom Tower, which straddled the colleges entrance and loomed over St Aldates. There are still a couple of hours before the first guests will start to turn up, Nick said. If you like, we could head over there now. Give us a chance to catch up a bit on old times. And if you dont mind, you can help me set up the buffet while were chatting.
On one condition, Ben said.
Whats that?
You make me a cup of real coffee.
Done. You ready? Lets go and grab a bus. I live up in north Oxford, going towards Summertown.
No car?
I bought one last year, an Aston Martin, Nick said with a casual wave. Total white elephant. I never even use the damn thing.
Business must be good if you can afford a car like that, Ben said. He was still hurting from the cost of his new BMW.
I get by, Nick replied with a grin. You must tell me all about yours.
Ben had so far avoided divulging much about what he was doing these days, except that he co-ran a business in Normandy. He shrugged. Its nothing that exciting.
Im sure thats not true at all, Nick replied.
They strolled up the hill to Carfax, which was the bustling hub of the city centre and more choked than ever with buses and milling shoppers. At Carfax Tower they jumped on a double-decker going north up Banbury Road, and climbed to the empty top deck to sit at the front. To Ben, it felt like being a student again. Except back in his day, you were allowed to smoke upstairs. Do it now, and they would probably cart you away to serve ten years in a max-security prison.
They took their seats, Nick by the window, Ben by the centre aisle. Small tremors rocked the bus as more passengers boarded downstairs. Nick was about to resume their conversation when heavy footsteps came up the double-deckers stairwell. The footsteps paused at the top of the stairs, then approached. Nick glanced back, Ben felt him go as tense as a spheksophobe near a wasps nest.
Oh Christ, its one of them, Nick muttered sotto voce.
One of who? Ben asked him.
Crusties. Beggars. Whatever you call them. They cause a lot of trouble on the buses. Dont make eye contact with him. Maybe hell leave us alone.
The guy was on his own, walking up to the front of the top deck with a shoulder-rolling swagger to his step and a cocky grin on his face. He was large, over six feet tall and thick-chested, somewhere north of thirty. Which meant he probably hadnt taken a shower since his twenties. It was hard to tell which were dirtier, his jeans, hoodie or his straggly hair and beard. From under heavy brows he eyed Ben, then Nick. He raised a grubby finger as if it was a gun and pointed it at them.
Youre in my seat. The guys voice was harsh and crackly. Ben got a whiff of body odour and unwashed clothes coming off him like rotten cabbages, mixed with the sour smell of stale booze.
Well move, Nick said quickly, starting to get up. Ben touched his arm to still him.
The guys eyes flickered back to Nick and lingered there. I know you.
Nick seemed to hesitate and looked uncomfortable for a moment. He replied anxiously, I I dont have any money for you today.
Youre in my seat, the guy repeated. Heaping on the menace. Trying to.
Ben turned to gaze up at the guy from where he sat. He motioned at the empty deck and said, Plenty of seats free for you back there. How about you make yourself comfortable a few rows behind us, where I cant smell you?
Ben, no, Nick warned in a low whisper.
You mean, dont provoke him? Ben said. This moron was born provoked. But thats okay. He doesnt worry me.
The big guy fixed Ben with a glare. His pupils shrank down to the size of pinheads. Eyes rimmed red. I dont think you heard me, arsehole. This is my seat.
I heard you fine, Ben said. Except I dont see any reservation signs. And I like the view from up front here. I think well stay.
The hand pointing the finger disappeared into one of the pockets of the guys hoodie. It came out again clutching a small paring knife.
Oh, God, Nick quavered in Bens ear. I told you Like it was Bens fault that one of the passengers was waving a blade at them.
You got a mouth on you, the guy said. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson.
Ben looked at the paring knife. Thanks, but I already know how to peel potatoes.
Give me your fuckin wallet, prick. Now.
The bus was starting to move. The driver obviously hadnt bothered to check the fish-eye mirror above him that gave a view of the upstairs. Or maybe these things happened so often on board that hed given up caring. Welcome to the city of the dreaming spires. Ben had almost forgotten how colourful the streets of Oxford could get at times.
The big guy reached out with his free hand to steady himself against the sudden lurch of the transmission as the bus lumbered forwards. Then the driver braked sharply as a couple of kids darted across the road in his path. The big guy rocked on his feet. The knife stayed pointed at Ben.
Ben used the momentum of the braking bus to come forwards out of his seat, faster than the big guy could register. In the next instant, the knife was out of his hand and in Bens. Boggle-eyed with surprise, the guy swung a clumsy roundhouse punch Bens way. Ben could have run down to the nearest coffee shop to order a takeaway espresso in the time it took coming. He trapped the arm, twisted it up and under the guys ribs and behind his back, and used the leverage to dump the guy into a seat a row back on the opposite side of the aisle. Up close, the guy smelled even more strongly of stale sweat and booze. He tried to struggle and kick. Ben jammed him up against the window and pinched off the carotid artery at the base of his neck to shut down the blood flow to what little brain he had.
It normally took between five to eight seconds before the subject lost consciousness. This guys system had been running on bad fuel for so long that his bloodstream was already starved of oxygen, and he held out for much less time. Ben kept the stranglehold clamped down tight until he felt him go limp.
The bus rumbled on up the street.
Nick was staring.
Ben checked the big guys hoodie pockets. He found nearly fifty pounds in rumpled and grimy notes, along with a small bottle of ecstasy pills and a paper bag containing some dried-out magic mushrooms. Thats your lesson for the day, he said to the unconscious hulk as he counted the money and shoved all the stuff in his own jacket pocket. Cost of doing business with the wrong people.
What did you do to him? Nick gasped.
Hes just grabbing forty winks, Ben said. They were approaching another stop, crowded with people waiting to board. Smells in here. I vote we change buses.
Chapter 6
I cant believe what you just did, Nick said for at least the dozenth time as they hopped on another bus going the same way. Oh, my God! He was as high and starry-eyed as a young boy after his first ever pint of beer. I mean, how did you do that?
Its just a simple gimmick. A granny could do it. Ill show you sometime.
Its incredible.
Its nothing.
This time they took a seat downstairs, in the back. Not a knife-wielding mugger in sight. What did you call them? Ben asked.
Crusties. Didnt used to be a problem, but now there seem to be more of them all the time. When theyre not selling dope or drinking in the streets, theyre intimidating people for cash.
Well, theres one who might think twice next time, Ben said.
Ill bet. I suppose youve done a public service.
He said he knew you. Whats that about?
Nick paused a second before replying. Ive given him money now and then.
Voluntarily? Or on demand?
They can be pretty forceful. Its hard to refuse. Im not like you, Ben.
It doesnt take much just to say no. Extortion and bullying dont deserve a reward.
Giving in is just exacerbating the situation, I know. But I suppose part of me feels sorry for them.
Youd be feeling sorrier all sliced and diced with a knife hanging out of your guts, Ben said.
Nick couldnt argue with that. What are you doing to do with the, erm, items you took from him?
You want them?
I dont think so. Not my style.
Ill dump them in the first toilet I pass. Except the money. Ill find a better use for that.
Spoils of war?
I wouldnt call it that.
Nick sat smiling and shaking his head in amazement for a few moments. Then he said, Actually, I dont know why Im surprised by what you did back there. I shouldnt be at all. Considering.
Ben looked at him. Considering what?
I dont just mean, you know, the wild things you got up to when you were a student. It seems you had a pretty amazing military career. Which would suggest to me that that idiot back there got off pretty damn lucky.
And how would you know that?
Nick shrugged. Well, I have a confession to make. I looked you up.
You did?
A few months ago. Now that we have all this wonderful technology at our disposal, I was getting all mid-life-crisis-ish one evening and googled the names of a few of our old friends. I was horrified to learn of the deaths of Simeon and Michaela. I was doing a concert tour in Japan when they had their car accident, and Id no idea. Came as a complete shock. I still cant get over it. Nick shook his head mournfully. That makes you and me the last of the old gang, doesnt it?
Ben said nothing. For two reasons. First, because he knew full well that the fatal crash had been no accident: hed been there and witnessed it. And gone on to avenge the lives of his dead friends. Second, because of the private history that existed between him, Simeon and Michaela. Things that Nick didnt know, some of which not even Ben himself had known for many years, and which would remain a secret forever. Ben stayed silent, waited for Nick to go on.
Anyway, there arent a lot of Benedict Hopes in the world. I found your business website, with your photo on it, which was how I knew it was you. I forget the name of it now. Le something.
Ben had never liked his picture being on the website. Jeffs idea. Le Val, he said.
Thats it. Your bio doesnt offer a great deal of information. Which I presume is intentional, because you cant reveal much about your history. But I can guess.
Can you?
Nick shrugged. Tactical training centre. What is that?
What it sounds like, Ben said. We train people.
People? Anyone? People like me?
I dont think it would be your thing, Nick. Military and specialised police units, mainly. Some private outfits, too.
What a strange world you live in. I had no idea such things existed.
Its just a job, Ben said.
Sounds like a little more than that.
Keeps me out of trouble, Ben lied. More truthfully he added, Its been going a few years now. We might be expanding before long. Maybe southern France, or maybe further afield in Europe. Dont know yet.
I dont suppose theres much call for that kind of thing in Britain.
Too many legal restrictions, Ben said. Unless youre the Ministry of Defence. That lot can do whatever the hell they please.
Nick pursed his lips and nodded. What did you do before that? It seemed from your bio as though there was a few years gap after you quit the army.
Oh, this and that, Ben said.
So secretive?
Ben shrugged. More than ever, he wished he wasnt so easy to look up online. Damn that Jeff Dekker.
Let me guess, Nick said, smiling. You were a professional assassin. Taking out corrupt dictators, or polishing off enemies for the mob.
Youve been watching too many movies.
A secret agent, then.
I helped people, Ben said, just to steer the conversation away. The bus was rumbling slowly northwards through Oxford. He was thinking about flouting the regulations and lighting up a Gauloise.
Nick raised his eyebrows. Helped people?
Ben shrugged again. Why couldnt they just have discussed the weather, like everyone else? He said, Sometimes people need help.
The kind of help that they cant otherwise get?
That kind of thing, Ben said.
Nick was a shrewd guy, and he was looking at him with thoughtful eyes. Ben decided to say no more about himself. So whos coming to lunch? he asked.
Just a few pals. Music people, mostly. Theyre an all right bunch. Youll like them. One of them is my old professor, Adrian Graves, whom I havent seen for crumbs, must be a couple of years. Where does the time go?
Ben was wondering the same thing, as well as when hed last heard anyone say crumbs.