The Chrysalid Conspiracy (14 page)

“No. She wasn’t looking at the professor, she was looking up.”

“Show me,” said Amelia.

Rayn pushed her head back. “In fact, it was so far back it reminded me of an animal sniffing the air, you know, for a scent.”

Amelia went cold. Her face paled. “Hey,” said Rayn reassuringly. “It’s not you, remember.”

“What else?” Amelia said softly. Rayn kept talking, trying to hold her friend’s attention.

“Our friend stood up while she was looking up at the broken window. Your…her right hand looked as if she was trying to brush something off her right shoulder with her right hand. Like this,” and she made the motions she had described.

“Anything else?” asked Amelia, who was deep in thought.

“No,” said Rayn. “That’s about the time my stomach became involved. I sort of got distracted for a while, sorry.”

“There was somebody up there,” said Amelia, without emotion.

“You saw someone? Who was it?” Rayn was completely taken aback by this revelation.

“
She
couldn’t see anything.
She
could sense it,” said Amelia.

“I beg your pardon?” said Rayn. “Her friend has the distinct impression that she is not telling her friend something. She is as bad at lying as you are.”

Amelia managed a smile. “Okay,” she said resignedly, and she told Rayn about her dreams; about the giant tree, her ability to move with speed and confidence among its giant branches and the fear and confusion of that final fall and waking up.

When she related her most recent fight with her duvet it sent Rayn into convulsions. “The point I’m trying to make is that it’s always dark in my dream,” Amelia continued. “I can sense things rather than see them. This seems to be the same sort of thing, but it’s the first time it’s happened when I’m awake”

“So, the crouch is defensive and she can smell danger,” commented Rayn.

Amelia quickly replied. “No. She can’t smell danger, she can sense it.”

“And did she sense who it was?”

“Not really, but whoever it was he was unaware of my…her presence. Oh Rayn! This third person thing isn’t working.”

“I know, but it was a good idea. We’re just not very good detectives I suppose.” Rayn sighed.

“You got that right. Our real problem is that book, and look where it is. Still in my bag.”

“Do you think we should take a look at it then?” asked Rayn.

“No.” Replied Amelia. “It’s staying where it is until I’ve got used to the idea that it exists. Let’s drop it and take our chances with what we’re doing.”

Rayn thought for a moment. “You said there was someone up in the Professors office. Are you sure it was a man? By my reckoning Miss Collins should have been up there by then.”

“No, Miss Collins never made it. She fell and hurt her leg. But it was definitely a man. Women are far more deadly and give off a stronger aura of menace.”

Rayn smiled and, with that mischievous look back in her eyes, replied. “Somehow that pleases me. I wonder why?”

Released from the mind twisting concept of the ‘third party’ syndrome they both laughed, “And why were you touching your shoulder?”

“I was reaching for my sword,” “Amelia recalled.

“Your what? On your shoulder?”

“Yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it? Look.” Amelia stood up. “If you have a sword on your belt it’s like a third leg, only useless.” She made some moves to make her point. “But if it’s on your back, it’s out of your way and easily accessible. Also, there’s a dagger on my left thigh and a smaller one in my right boot.”

“Quite formidable,” said Rayn, impressed. “And did you ever get a chance to use them?”

“No, I usually fall and wake up before I meet whoever’s hunting me,” said Amelia. Her eyes widened and took on a dreamy look. “But I’ll tell you this. With that imaginary dream sword in my hand I feel invincible. It feels like part of me. As if it’s an extension of my arm. I get the impression that I’m pretty good at it.”

“But how does this translate into real life and our little problem?” asked Rayn. “You can’t just slip into your favourite nightmare and pick up your dream skills as well.”

“Beats me,” said Amelia, unable to think of anything constructive to say.

“It beats you!” retorted Rayn. “It scares the hell out of me. Really Amelia, if I hadn’t seen it myself I’d be calling the men in white coats right now.”

There was a long silence, broken eventually by Amelia. “I wonder if all this is connected somehow. The vicar, Melkins’ death, the book, lying to the police. And why does George keep cropping up?”

“What!” said Rayn, much too quickly.

Amelia realised her error and tried to think of a way out. There was another long pause, broken this time by Rayn.

“Amelia, there’s something I haven’t told you. It’s about George.”

Oh, thank goodness,” exclaimed Amelia. “I was beginning to feel quite selfish. What is it?”

Rayn was about to continue when she suddenly froze. Amelia was sitting upright, head back as if looking at the ceiling, but she had her eyes closed. She put up a hand, requesting silence. Rayn complied and waited.

Amelia moved swiftly and threw the door wide open. Rayn’s mother stood there, trying unsuccessfully to hide her surprise.

“Oh, thank you.” She said, recovering quickly. “I was trying to figure out how to open the door without spilling your tea,” she said, calm and controlled again.

Rayn shifted down a mental gear and greeted her. “Thanks Mum, how did you know?” and gave her a pleased disarming smile.

“Thanks Bridie,” said Amelia, taking the cups from her.

“Just wanted to let you know that Molly is leaving. But not to worry, I’m staying on, okay?” she informed them.

“Crikey,” Amelia was shocked. “Is it that time already? Bridie, you’re an angel. Thank you.”

“How’s it going? Are you getting anywhere?” she asked.

“Not really,” replied Amelia.

“Of course we are,” contradicted Rayn. She was irritated by her mother’s intrusion.

“Rayn,” replied her mother, unabashed, “Lucy has invited us to stay for dinner.” There was a slight hesitation and she finished with “again”.

“Oh no,” muttered her daughter.

“Don’t you want to?” Amelia was disturbed by her friend’s remark.

“Most definitely,” she answered. “It’s just that I can tell by her face I’m going to get her ‘point of principal’ lecture.”

“But it’s the fourth night in a row, my love,” Bridie argued.

Rayn was trying to control her by now unreasonable anger. Dressing her face in a smile she responded. “Okay Mum,” she said, trying to sound flippant. “If it will ease your conscience, you buy the food, you cook it and you wash up. How’s that?”

Amelia saw the flash of fire in Bridie’s eyes as she turned to leave, then turned back to make her parting shot. “Amelia, make sure she opens a window and uses an ash tray.” and quietly shut the door behind her.

“Ash tray?” remarked Amelia.

“What? Oh, yes, I have been known to have one occasionally. I use them as an appetite suppressant.”

“Rayn, that’s the most pathetic excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe so, but it’s the only one I’ve got, and I’ll fight to the death to defend it,” she grinned. “How long was she out there? Do you know?”

“No,” answered Amelia. “I sensed something, but it wasn’t a threat, it was very weak.”

“So we don’t know how much she heard, then?” said Rayn.

“Let’s not be disloyal to your mother. Perhaps she just wanted to bring us a nice cup of tea.”

“That may be true, but I doubt it. I think we ought to be much more careful,” Rayn warned.

“What? Very
Very
careful?” laughed Amelia.

“You’re a very nice person, Amelia Jayne Jaxson. Which doesn’t do much for your chances of survival?”

The laughter eased the sudden tension. “You were about to tell me something about George,” reminded Amelia.

“What? Oh yes. I’ve met him before. It was strange really. I caught something familiar when I shook hands with him. There was a smell – no, a fragrance I recognised.”

“There’s not much to go on, is there?” queried Amelia.

“But it was later, after dinner, when I saw mum and him talking and laughing. When I was little I remember going off to sleep listening to her and the man who lived with us. I called him Uncle Stephen. I knew it was him. I could remember it right down to the spluttering oil lamp.” There was silence. “Well? Say something,” said Rayn nervously.

Amelia explained the reason for her suspicions, recounting her observations between George and Rayn’s mum when they first met, and the subsequent rebuke from her mother. “You don’t mind me not telling you, do you?” asked Amelia, frightened of her friend’s reaction.

“I think I know how you’ve been feeling,” Rayn said at last. “Confirmation from somebody else that you’re not going doolally is reassuring.”

“Oh Rayn! I can’t accept any of this,” Amelia suddenly confessed. “It’s too far out. Things like this only happen in stories, not to real people, not to us. This is just some childish fantasy, reading mystery into everyday things. My mother’s right, it’s only a way of escaping from reality. I think we ought to forget it all and just enjoy what we’ve got, don’t you?”

Rayn was worried. She needed to do this for her own reasons. The thing to do was find another way of keeping Amelia’s interest. “I think you may be right,” she replied, trying some reverse psychology. “But it’s an interesting scenario, isn’t it? I tell you what, why don’t we run with it for a while – you know, just for fun. We can treat it as a game, see where it leads. What do you say?” She held her breath, waiting for Amelia to speak.

“Yeah, why not?” Pondered Amelia. “It could be interesting. I don’t think we should tell anyone though; we don’t want everyone thinking we’re crazy. Yes, why not. Okay, then. But we don’t write anything down or talk where we can be overheard. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” confirmed Rayn, with great relief. “I’ll see what I can find out about my mum’s past. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to read that blasted book! In the meantime, the school is closed for the week and it’s my birthday on Saturday! So let’s enjoy some reality for a while and forget about this nonsense. What do you say?”

Rayn agreed, but secretly decided to keep an open mind and stay alert. Amelia’s strange behaviour on the path outside the professor’s office had had a profound effect on her. She’d witnessed something that conflicted with her concept of reality.

Bridie pulled up her coat collar. It was cold and the rain just hung there waiting to be walked into. She walked the short distance to George’s garage, The sign over the door had once said “The Old Forge”. She saw that the ‘F’ had been replaced with a ‘G’.
That’s my boy
, she thought and it brought a smile to her face.

Suddenly she was nervous of meeting him again, alone. A lot had happened since the last time. Deciding to do her shopping first, she realised she’d been so fixated on this meeting that she hadn’t considered what to get for dinner.

Hardly feeling the cold and the rain, she walked to the supermarket, all the while trying to decide if she were making a mistake or not. She had to talk to him, she knew that much. Talking to Lucy wasn’t an option, she might take it as a criticism of her work, but after what she had heard from outside Amelia’s bedroom talking to someone had become imperative.

Yet it was that very meeting that was clawing at her stomach. It made her feel frightened and she reminded herself of her mission.

“Come on, Katja Hartog, you took an oath. Get on with it,” she told herself. Using her real name always helped her to put her life in perspective.

Her parents had emigrated from Hungary to Northern Ireland when she was little and she’d gone on to be an anti-British activist at college. Eventually recruited by the IRA, she became totally committed and was playing with politics and detonators by the time she graduated. Since Rayn had been born, against all the odds, her life had changed. So much so she now spent a lot of time trying to forget some of the terrible things she’d done in the name of patriotism.

Meeting Stephen, or George as he now called himself, had been, in effect, the beginning of her life. Nearly twice her age, he had become her surrogate father and mentor. He’d taught her about the value of human life, regardless of colour, race or creed and its relationship with nature.

In ‘the firm’ some years before, he’d come to see it for what it was – mainly organised crime bosses manipulating gullible fools like her. He’d escaped from their clutches by of all things, joining the British Army. He’d served a few years as a sniper attached to the SAS, then moved on to the Middle East as a mercenary; a soldier of fortune. When he returned he was a changed man. He’d become a man of peace and of extraordinary patience, tolerance and compassion outside of religion. He’d shown her what people can achieve, given time. This was the man Bridie had met and come to depend on and they had became close friends.

She’d tried to leave the ‘firm’ at this time but they had her closely watched. She knew too much. Trying to find some solace in her faith, she met Father Barry and had fallen in love for the first time in her life.

Her ensuing pregnancy had caused a tirade of condemnation from all quarters. He was excommunicated and subsequently murdered by vigilantes. They’d come after her but it had been George who had come to the rescue. Hiding and protecting her, he’d given her a new identity. Keeping his distance during her convalescence from gunshot wounds and the birth of Rayn, he’d taken on the role of father with relish. It had suited him and he was very good to both of them. It was George who introduced her to the ‘travellers’. She had immediately settled in and loved the life. It wasn’t easy but she felt free and her own person for the first time. They had become lovers during those few happy years. Although not in love, they provided each other with comfort and companionship.

It was during this time that he would disappear every so often. A day, a week – at one time a whole month. She had questioned him about it but he was always non-committal. Fearing that he had reverted to his days as a professional assassin, she had tackled him head on one night. Remembering that night brought a smile to her face.