The Lucy Ghosts Read online

  It was a chintzy dressing room, very Californian chic and obviously designed for women friends. He decided to leave the rest of his unpacking till later and took out his matching Vitton toilet bag. He walked into the en suite bathroom, once again very feminine in its fashion, and plugged in his Braun electric razor. He far preferred to shave with lather and brush, but the Braun was always on standby when he was in a rush.

  Phil Tucker was on the balcony when Billie came through. The Muscle, having maintained his position as pack leader, disappeared into his exercise area.

  'Hi Phil,' she welcomed him. They had already met the night before and had dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe in La Jolla Village. Tucker had taken her through the events that led up to their meeting, but had deliberately avoided any reference to the computer and its problems. They had agreed that the Englishman was there because of his field experience, he would be useful if things turned violent. 'One of their heavies,' Tucker had remarked during the evening. 'To be used as required.'

  'Hi. Our guest arrived okay?'

  'Yes. Not at all what I expected.'

  He looked quizzically at her, but decided not to push her as he sensed her antagonism. 'This sure is a nice place to live. Some views. Makes waking up that much easier, huh?'

  'It does.' She looked out over the coastline, looked at the surf breaking.

  'It's snowing in Washington. We had three feet of it before I left.'

  'Well, you certainly came prepared for California,' she joked, remembering how she had met him at the airport, he with an overcoat over his arm, a high necked sweater under his suit and a scarf draped round his neck.

  'I still don't believe it's seventy degrees. Seems wrong at Christmas time. Where's he gone?'

  'Having a quick wash. He knows you're here.'

  They stayed on the balcony until Adam joined them ten minutes later. He'd decided to change and the tailored jeans and blazer had been replaced by a monogrammed, button down pink shirt, black tailored Bermuda shorts with turn ups and knife edge creases, and tanned legs disappearing into black slip on calf leather shoes. His gold Ebel watch dangled on his right arm, below the cuffs which were rolled halfway up his elbow,

  European beach chic was not what the Americans expected of the SAS, even in southern California.

  'You're Adam?' said a surprised Tucker, moving forward with his arm outstretched in welcome.

  'Mr Tucker?'

  'Call me Phil. Everyone else does.' They shook hands and Adam liked the American immediately, felt the confidence and warmth in the handshake. 'Flight okay?'

  'No problems.'

  'Good. Guess you're pretty tired.'

  'Not really.' There was no need to add that four hours sleep was a luxury, that he had often gone days without resting in the course of his duties.

  'That's great. Means we can get straight down to business.' Tucker pulled up a chair at the table and sat down, the other two following him. 'So what did London tell you? '

  Adam repeated what the briefing officer had briefed and about the contents of the folder he had read afterwards.

  'That all?'

  'That's all.'

  Tucker thought for a moment; the Englishman knew less than he had expected. 'We think there's a leak inside the Agency. If someone's trying to get to Trimmler, we don't want to warn them about our plans.'

  'Who do I see about weapons?'

  'Weapons?'

  'I was told I was to be armed.'

  'What do you need?'

  'A standard 9mm Browning High Power semi automatic for starts.'

  'Okay. What else?'

  'A Heckler and Koch MP5K sub-machine gun.'

  'That's powerful shit. Why? '

  'I like to play safe. And because it's the shortest barrel available. In this case, we might just need something that's good at close quarters.'

  'What unit were you with?'

  'CRW.'

  'CRW?'

  'Counter Revolutionary Warfare Wing. Don't worry. I know how to handle the hardware.' Adam's answer mocked Tucker, but the American ignored it. 'What's next?'

  'Get some rest. Tomorrow we go to a wedding.'

  'Wedding?'

  'Trimmler's a guest. At the Torrey Pines Sheraton. Just down the road from here. It's the sort of public place they might decide to hit him. We'll keep an eye out and then meet him later on. He's at the Mirimar Air Base at present. At least we know he's safe there. But, after tomorrow, we might just arrange for him to go home. Maybe even get you to stay there. Well, that's it for tonight.'

  'I suppose you'll both want something to eat?' said Billie, standing up.

  'Hey, thanks. That sounds good.'

  'Not for me, thank you.' The last thing Adam wanted was a pleasant evening at home with Muscle and his companions. 'I'll go into La Jolla. Have a look round. Seems a nice place.' He stood up from the table. 'Can I call a taxi or get a hire car someplace?'

  'Use mine,' snapped Billie.

  'Thank you.'

  'No sweat. I'm sure they'll all see you coming.' Her sarcasm was lost on Tucker, who didn't know of their earlier conversation. She stood up. 'I'll get the key. Are you going to be late?'

  'I don't know. Probably not.'

  'I'll give you a front door key as well.'

  'Something I missed?' asked Tucker when she left.

  'No.'

  'You two seem pretty cool towards each other.'

  'We get on just fine,' said Adam and left to follow the woman.

  It was the last thing Tucker wanted. His first field assignment and two operatives who couldn't get on. Shit, life really was a bitch.

  It was nearly four in the morning when Billie heard the key being twisted in the front door lock, heard the door open and close quietly.

  She lay next to Gary whose snoring was akin to a rumbling express train going through a long dark tunnel. It didn't normally keep her awake, she had got used to it over the months. But the Englishman had irritated her with his rudeness. She had prepared a meal for him and Tucker, but he had disappeared before she had had a chance to tell him.

  But it wasn't that which got under her skin, after all he could be excused for not knowing about the meal.

  What really upset her was the way he was using her home as a hotel.

  If this assignment hadn't been as important as it was, she would have had his bags packed and waiting by the front door.

  She pushed Gary's arm away and slid out of the bed, picking up her robe from the end and wrapping it around herself.

  Adam was about to enter his room when she came into the hallway.

  'You're back,' she said softly, instantly feeling like an irate parent scolding a naughty child as she spoke.

  'Yes,' he replied. 'Great place. Great action. Been to the Singing Canary.' It was a night club on the outskirts of La Jolla.

  He held his hand out and she saw he held a mixture of yellow and red roses.

  'They're pretty,' she said, softening immediately as she imagined the offering was for her.

  'Aren't they? I've never had a girl give me roses before. Very Californian. Goodnight.'

  His door had closed on her before she could answer. She felt foolish. Why the hell did she think that rude bastard would bring her roses?

  Ch.21

  La Jolla

  Southern California

  Adam waited for Billie and Phil Tucker outside Cornes, the big Rolls Royce and Ferrari dealership on the Mirimar Road.

  The Mirimar Road runs from the downtown area of La Jolla town, not to be confused with La Jolla itself which is the beach front village to the west, and through the commercial area and out past the Mirimar Air Base to the east. This stretch of modern tower office blocks, billboards and single storey shops, showrooms and eating houses, is over four miles long. Like all American commercial centres, it is a mixture of urban sprawl, disorganised architecture, modern shopping malls and a thousand billboards and signs blasting their own visions of the American Dream.

  They ha
d gone to the Hertz Rent-a-Car outlet in the commercial area to hire a less conspicuous car than Billie's Renegade. Adam, knowing he had time to kill, had wandered past the Porsche and Jaguar dealerships to Cornes. His passionate interest in cars led him to the Ferraris that filled the showroom window and he was soon in conversation with an attentive salesman about the merits of the various models.

  The other two found him twenty minutes later at the wheel of the red Testarossa that was parked in the forecourt, the salesman next to him, as they enthusiastically discussed the merits and faults of various models, both old and new.

  Tucker had hired a brown Ford Granada and he pulled up next to the Testarossa and bipped the horn at Adam. Adam said his goodbyes to the salesman and slid into the back of the Granada.

  'Where now?' he asked.

  'To get Trimmler,' answered Tucker, 'and take him to his wedding.'

  'Sounds good. Anything else happen?'

  'No.' Tucker had already decided not to tell Adam too much. After all, he was here as muscle to protect Trimmler. Nothing else concerned him.

  They drove to the Mirimar Air Base in silence, the journey taking little more than five minutes. Tucker swung the car into the Base entrance and presented his identity to the armed guard on duty. They were expecting him, and the guard waved Tucker through after lifting the steel barrier and giving him directions to the officers' quarters.

  Adam reflected that this was the home of the best American jet fighter pilots in America, the home of the Top Guns. He ruefully wished he had joined the Royal Air Force instead of the Army. At least he wouldn't have been stuck here with these two amateurs.

  Trimmler was waiting at the entrance to one of the largest houses on the base. He was dressed in a grey morning suit, a top hat in his left hand. They could tell from his demeanour that he was agitated. He had bounded down the steps from the house and was pulling open Tucker's door before the car had come to a stop.

  'You're late!' Trimmler snapped.

  'Sorry, sir,' said Tucker, scrambling out of the car. 'We needed a new car. Is your wife coming?'

  'Who are these people?' asked Trimmler, ignoring Tucker's question as he pointed at Billie and Adam.

  'Your escort.'

  'All of you. This is stupid. Three people?'

  'Those are my instructions.'

  'And you expect me to get in with all of you, with these clothes on?'

  'Yes, sir.'

  'You want us to arrive looking like gangsters? You think I'm Al Capone, or something? No! I will not go with all of you.'

  'My orders are....'

  ''I don't care about orders. Get me another car. If they want to come, they can follow.'

  'That'll make us late for the wedding.'

  'Stupid. This is stupid. We must leave them here.'

  'I can't do that, sir.'

  Trimmler slammed the door shut in frustration, nearly trapping Tucker's hands in the process. The two men stared at each other, a war of nerves and frustration.

  'All right!' shouted Trimmler. 'But I sit in the front. The woman.....in the back,' he ordered.

  'Billie. Please?' said Tucker.

  Billie climbed out of the passenger seat and slipped into the back as Trimmler stormed round and angrily sat in the front, slamming the door shut once he was in. Tucker climbed into the driving position and swung the car round and drove back to the entrance.

  The trip took an uncomfortable and silent thirty minutes in the busy traffic. The only time anyone spoke was when Trimmler demanded the air conditioning be turned down. Tucker leant across and adjusted the dial accordingly.

  'Is that better?' he asked after a few minutes.

  Trimmler nodded, his top hat now balanced on his knee.

  In the back, Adam and Billie studiously avoided each other, their gazes determined not to meet, their bodies apart and obvious in their language. Billie kept her chin up for the whole journey.

  The Torrey Pines Sheraton is one of those low level, sprawling hotels that Californians insist on building so as not to intrude on the environment. It overlooks the Torrey Pines Golf Course, a municipal track that is world class in design and has hosted many great golf classics. The hotel is shaped in a wide W, with the three wings reaching out towards the golf course. Between the outer wings and the centre index of the W there were two outdoor terraced areas which were used for weddings and other similar functions. Although the hotel had only been completed in 1988, it was now seen as one of the fashionable venues for wedding services in the La Jolla area.

  The wedding Trimmler was attending was of one of his younger colleague's, a Jewish subordinate who worked on his team.

  Tucker pulled the car up outside the canopied lobby entrance. Trimmler was out and on his way into the hotel before the parking attendant had reached them.

  'How y'a doing?' He greeted Tucker through the open window. 'Want me to park it?'

  'No thanks,' said Tucker. 'I'll do it.'

  He swung the car round the centre island and drove to one of the empty spots next to the hotel. When he had parked, the three of them climbed out of the car. They were surrounded by Bentleys, Rolls Royces, Mercedes, BMWs and other expensive, mostly European, cars. Adam realised it was a top society wedding. It would be difficult to keep an eye on Trimmler with all those people milling about.

  'Now what?' asked Adam.

  'Just stay out of the way and keep an eye on him,' replied the CIA man.

  'I need to get in the boot.'

  'The what?'

  'He means the trunk,' interrupted Billie.

  'It's open.'

  Adam went to the rear of the car and pushed the button that released the lock and allowed the boot lid to spring open. Tucker and Billie followed him round.

  In the bottom there was, wrapped under a blanket, a Heckler and Koch MP5K sub-machine gun and a standard 9mm Browning High Power semi automatic. Adam unravelled the blanket as the other two watched.

  'Do we have to take those in?' asked a startled Tucker.

  'If we're here to protect the guy, yes.'

  'Come on....Not the machine gun as well, are....?'

  'Don't be daft,' replied Adam curtly. He slipped off his jacket and looked round the car park to make sure he wasn't being observed. Satisfied that all was well, he then reached down and lifted out a shoulder holster and strapped it on. Once he had checked that it fitted snugly, tight enough to stay firm under his left shoulder yet loose enough not to impair his breathing, he took the 9mm Browning and slipped it into the holster. Then he closed the boot lid and put his jacket back on.

  'Okay,' he said. 'You'd better make sure the alarm's on. We don't want that little number going MIA, do we?' he went on, indicating the machine gun.

  As Tucker turned to switch on the alarm, Adam walked away from them and into the hotel. Billie and the CIA man followed at a distance.

  'Lopian - Robbins Wedding on the Golf View Terrace' said the legend on the signboard in the lobby entrance. Underneath it, in bolder red print on a white background shouted the words 'The Torrey Pines Sheraton welcomes all Phil and Janey's wedding guests.'

  'Excuse me,' Adam asked one of the receptionists, a pretty redhead with 'Debbie Hanniff - Receptionist' printed on the badge perched above her left breast. 'Debbie?'

  'How can I help you?' she smiled back.

  'The Golf View Terrace, please?'

  'Down there,' she pointed to the right corridor. 'Just keep following the hallway and you'll come to some big glass doors. Opens right up onto the terrace. You here for the Lopian Robbins wedding?'

  'Yes. Thank you, Debbie.'

  'Have a good day, sir.'

  Adam turned and walked down the marble floored hallway with his two companions following. When he reached the big glass doors he found his way barred by an usher in a grey morning suit.

  'Hi,' welcomed the usher.

  'Hello,' replied Adam, moving towards the open terrace.

  'You got your invitation?' asked the usher, stepping forward a
nd blocking Adam's way.

  'Not on me.'

  'Well, this is a private wedding. Invited guests only.'

  'That's good. I just wanted to see how you do these things over here.'

  'You from England?'

  'Damn accent always gives me away,' Adam joked.

  'I'm sorry but it is a private wedding.'

  'I appreciate that. But I really would love to watch the wedding. My friends here....' he indicated Billie and Tucker who were now standing behind him. '.....they'll tell you I'm from Tatler. A big magazine at home. The biggest. We carry society weddings. Our readers love it. I just wanted to see what it's like over here. You never know, it might even make our pages.'

  The usher looked over Adam's shoulder at Tucker, who nodded his agreement. 'Okay. There's some spare seats at the back. And you'd better wear these.' He handed Adam and Tucker two skull caps, satin white yarmulkes with 'Torrey Pines Sheraton' emblazoned across the back of them.

  'That's fantastic!' exhuded Adam. 'And maybe I could meet the lucky couple afterwards?'

  'I'm sure they'll love to. I tell ya, this is one of La Jolla's biggest.'

  Adam could see that most of the guests had arrived, some two hundred of them. The path from the glass doors led down to a large balconied terrace. Rows of white slatted wooden chairs spread out on each side of the path, most of them filled with immaculately suited men and expensively dressed fashionable women. At the end of the path a four poster canopy, the Chuppah, had been erected, the Star of David proudly embroidered on the top. The rabbi and cantor stood next to the Chuppah, talking between themselves as Adam and the two American agents took their seats at the back. By the time Adam had sat down, he had identified where Trimmler sat, half way down on the right hand side of the path. He leant across the other two and told them where the scientist was.

  'Wow! An accomplished liar as well,' said Billie sarcastically, referring to his exchange with the usher.

  Adam grinned and said nothing, went back to surveying the area and its surrounds. If there was to be an attempt, then it would come from one of the many hotel room balconies that ran the full length of the terrace. There were already many people on these balconies, no doubt hotel guests who had been drawn from their rooms to watch the ceremony below.