Broken White: The Complete Series (All 8 Books) Read online

  "The strangest thing happened to me today," I continue. "I'm afraid I was assaulted in my own home".

  "How dreadful!" says Sir Addison. "Did you catch the swine?"

  I shake my head. "It was a most unusual encounter. It seems someone was trying to deliver a message to me. He failed, of course, and I was rather offended that he thought I would be so easily fooled. I can only hope that I'm able to track the man down and let him know that I don't take kindly to threats, and that my loyalties can't be so easily twisted".

  Although he smiles politely, Blake is clearly very uncomfortable.

  "I don't know what the world is coming to," Sir Addison says. "Quite how a man can be assaulted in the privacy of his own properly, I shall never understand!" He turns to me. "You simply must go to the police and report the incident!"

  "I think not," I reply, fixing Blake with a determined stare. "I'd rather settle things in a direct manner. When two men have a disagreement, should they not resolve things face to face?"

  "You're quite right," Blake replies. "There's no need to involve outside authorities in what is, it seems to me, an entirely private conflict. Perhaps you should track down the man you believe to have been responsible for your experience, and ensure that he knows not to try such a thing again?"

  "Perhaps I should," I reply. "In fact, perhaps I shall go and send him a message right now. Gentlemen, I hope you'll excuse me".

  As I make my way back out into the street, I quickly realize that I'm being followed. Turning, I find that Harrison Blake has followed me into the dull gray afternoon drizzle.

  "Very impressive," he says. "It's not the work of a moment to gain access to these buildings".

  "I have my methods," I reply.

  "You also seem to have certain delusions," he continues. "Don't get me wrong, Pope. I fully understand why you assumed that I was behind whatever happened to you today, but I can assure you that you're mistaken. If I wanted to send you a message, I would have no difficulty in doing so myself. It's simply not my style to send an oaf to do something that I could do with my own two hands. Surely you realize that?"

  "I realize that desperate men will sometimes resort to desperate measures".

  "And what makes you think that I'm desperate?" He pauses for a moment. "It'll do you no good, Pope, to ignore the truth. I most certainly didn't arrange for anything to happen to you today, and there's only one person I can think of who might choose to do such a thing. I'm not going to name names, but I'd advise you to be careful. We have a mutual friend who is extremely slippery. She can make a man believe whatever she wants, and you wouldn't be the first to have fallen for her charms".

  "You're quite mistaken," I reply.

  "I think not. I've seen the way the pair of you look at one another. There's some kind of dalliance between you, at least from your perspective. Be warned, though, that she's more than capable of twisting your sensibilities and tricking you into believing that she has a heart. She does not. When that woman sheds a tear, it's because she believes it would benefit her to do so. When she accepts a man into her bed, it's because she knows how to control him. She makes him believe that she loves him. She pushes her way into his heart with promises of love, but her own heart is like ice. I know you're not a foolish man, Mr. Pope, so I hope you'll heed my words. Be careful of that woman".

  "I don't need your advice," I say. "I have never been fooled by a woman, and I'm not about to start now".

  He smiles. "I can see it in your eyes. What has she promised you? Love? Happiness? A family? Whatever it is, it's a lie. She's going to lure you into her domain, and then she's going to tear you to pieces. The only thing she cares about is the game, and there's no limit to the number of lives she'll destroy as she seeks victory. I hope you're smart enough to resist the temptations she puts in your way, but if you're not, I can only say that your death will bring me no pleasure".

  I take a deep breath. There's a part of me that would dearly love to plunge a knife into this bastard's heart right now, but at the same time I know that I'd never get away. It would be better to leave him like this, smiling and believing that he has fooled me.

  "Good luck," he says, before turning and walking back into the building.

  Left standing in the rain, I allow myself to consider, just for a moment, what it would be like if Blake's words turned out to be true. However, I simply cannot accept such a possibility. I have looked deep into Henrietta's eyes and I have seen the fear and love in her soul; I have listened to her trembling voice as she talks about the new life that grows, even now, in her belly. I won't allow myself to be fooled by Harrison Blake. Instead, I'll go to Henrietta and tell her that the time has come. We're leaving the country tonight.

  Elly

  Today

  "Jess!" I shout, stunned as I see my best friend from Bristol wandering toward us along the platform. She has a large backpack over her shoulder, and she's grinning as she sees me.

  "Hey, stranger," she says, hugging me as I hurry over to her. "Long time, no see".

  "What are you doing here?" I ask, before glancing back at Mark. He's standing a little way from us, but he's got a curious smile on his face, as if he's pleased with himself for arranging such a huge surprise. "Did you set this up?" I ask him.

  "I might have had something to do with it," he replies.

  "Hi," Jess says, stepping toward Mark and shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you at last".

  "Let me take your bag," Mark replies, and Jess slips her backpack off and hands it to him.

  "Hang on," I say, still shocked to see Jess after so many weeks. "So you and Mark hatched this plan together?"

  "He called and asked if I wanted a trip to London," Jess explains, "all expenses paid. I mean, what's a girl to say? He said you've been having a tough time lately and he wanted to cheer you up". She leans closer and huge me again. "What's wrong, babe? Not pleased to see me?"

  "Of course I am!" I reply, glancing over at Mark. Although I'm genuinely thrilled to see Jess, I can't help wondering why Mark did this. I'd like to believe that he's simply being nice, and that he genuinely cares that I've been feeling a little lost lately, but there's a part of me that keeps thinking back to the conversation we had in the car on the way over here. Is Jess's arrival part of the game? Is this some kind of test?

  "Let me show you to the car," Mark says. "You two must have a lot of catching up to do".

  "The last time I saw you," Jess says, as we start walking across the concourse, heading for the car park, "you were wasted and I was pushing you onto the first train. Fuck, it was about 5am, do you remember? I was so worried about you. I'd have come with you if I'd had the money for a ticket". She smiles. "I thought you'd just be up here for a few days, but now it's been more than a month. Are you just abandoning the rest of us?"

  "No!" I reply, shocked at the suggestion. "It's just..." I pause, realizing that there's so much I need to tell her. At the same time, I don't know how much I want to tell her, or how much I'm allowed to reveal. I've spoken to her on the phone a few times in recent weeks, but I've been intentionally vague about what I'm doing. To suddenly have her here, right in front of me, is kind of shocking. "Things have been complicated," I say eventually. "I've been to Zurich!"

  "Seriously?" She laughs. "When did you become an international jet-setter?"

  "It was kinda eventful," I say, before deciding that maybe I should wait until we've had a few drinks before I tell her the horrific story about Isabella Raynard's fall from the roof. I glance at Mark and see that he's getting quite far ahead of us, which means we should be able to talk without being overheard. Feeling a little twinge of paranoia, I look over my shoulder, just in case we're being watched.

  "Elly?" Jess continues. "Are you okay? You look really pale".

  "I'm fine," I say, stopping suddenly. "It's just... Things are weird around here". I take a deep breath, trying to work out how I can possibly explain all of this. Damn it, why couldn't Mark have warned me that Jess was coming? I needed
time to come up with a cover story. "It's just weird," I say eventually. "There's nothing wrong".

  "But you're dating a billionaire," she replies, smiling nervously. "By definition, that's a guy with a whole lot of money. More money than he knows what to do with, I guess. He could buy this whole train station and still have enough money left over for a good night out". She pauses. "Wait, did he earn the money, or did he inherit it?"

  "I don't know," I say weakly.

  "You don't know?"

  "Well -"

  "It's an important distinction. A billionaire who earned his money is one thing, and a billionaire who inherited his money is another. What type have you got?"

  "He earned it," I say, correcting myself quickly. Damn it, the last thing I want is for Jess to realize that I don't know anything about Mark's past. It's going to be hard enough keeping the dirty secrets of the game from her during the weekend, and the last thing I need to do is to start off by making her suspicious. "He started his own company. He earned every penny".

  "Cool. So he's got some drive, yeah? Some get-up-and-go?"

  I nod.

  "So it's a good kind of weird, right?"

  "Yeah," I say. "Well, sometimes. It's more like... Things are strange. I'm not totally sure what I'm even doing here".

  "You're shagging a billionaire, babe".

  I smile, trying not to blush.

  "Don't be ashamed. Be proud! I'd love to find a billionaire. There aren't many of them in Bristol, though. Seriously, if I could find a handsome billionaire to sweep me off my feet, I'd do it. It's the modern fairytale, isn't it? In the old days, girls used to be whisked away by a prince. There aren't any princes these days. Well, there are, but most of them are inbred bastards from Europe, and they're a bunch of little Mummy's boys. No, billionaires are the big catch these days, and you've got one. Don't let him go!"

  "I won't," I say.

  "He seems nice," she says, before a more serious look comes across her face. "Elly, is something wrong? He's not hurting you, is he? Are you happy?"

  "I'm very happy," I say, even though I'm not sure it's true. "And no, he's not hurting me. It's just that I'm living with him, and things aren't quite normal. I don't know how to explain it. I don't even know if I can. Just try to play along, and at some point we'll get some time alone and I can tell you everything". I pause for a moment. The truth is, I can never tell her everything. Maybe this is part of some big test? Maybe Mark's seeing if I'll blab about the game to Jess? When she arrived a couple of minutes ago, I was so pleased to see her, but now I'm starting to realize that her visit might be a challenge.

  "You're okay, though, right?" she continues. "I don't have to check you for bruises, do I?"

  I shake my head.

  "And he's nice? He's not, like, secretly a bastard or something, is he?"

  I shake my head again.

  "Okay," she says, clearly not convinced. "We'll talk later, okay? We'll get some girly time to just chat about things. I've been busy too, you know. You're not the only one who's got news. Of course, you're the only one who's shacked up with a billionaire..."

  "It's fine," I say, although I'm not sure who I'm trying to reassure. Suddenly I've overcome by the feeling that the game has completely consumed my life. My best friend is here to visit, and I can't properly relax; I can't stop thinking about how the game might be creeping into every moment, and I can't help but be suspicious. Is Mark using Jess to trick me? Or, worse, is Jess somehow part of the game? Did Mark lure her to London and give her money so that she'd help fool me? I feel like there's no-one I can trust in the entire world right now.

  "You can tell me all about it over a cocktail," Jess says, placing a hand on my arm.

  I nod, and finally I force myself to accept that she's being genuine. There's no way Jess would ever take money in order to play tricks on me. The rest of my life might be a storm of chaos and suspicion, but Jess is a solid anchor, a source of stability. Whether he did it by design or by accident, Mark has brought her here just when I need her the most. I just need to stop being suspicious, and I need to start focusing on the positive things.

  "Come on," I say, taking her hand and leading her toward the car park. Up ahead, Mark has stopped to wait for us, but he starts walking again once he sees that we're on our way. "I'm so glad you're here," I continue. "How long have you got before you have to go back to Bristol?"

  "I've got to leave on Sunday night," she replies, "so just a couple of days".

  "Then we haven't got much time," I say. "Mark lives in a penthouse in a hotel, and he's given me an open tab in the bar downstairs".

  "Excellent," she says. "I feel like getting totally wasted". She pauses for a moment. "So how are you doing after what happened with your dad?"

  "I'm fine".

  "And how's your dear mother?"

  "She's fine," I say, even though I don't really know if that's true. It's been so long since I saw my mother; I need to find time to go and catch up with her, but my life has been a whirlwind in recent weeks.

  "Mothers are like landmines," Jess continues. "Even when you think they're not around, they can suddenly blow up in your face. You can sustain permanent, life-changing injuries if you step on an unexploded mother".

  Smiling, I force myself to focus on the fact that my best friend is here for the weekend, and I tell myself that we're going to have a good time. However, as we walk through the door that leads to the car park, I happen to glance over my shoulder. I don't know why I do it; I guess it's just habit. For a moment, I make eye contact with a complete stranger. It's some guy, standing outside one of the shops. He's looking over at me, and for a brief second there's a moment of connection between us. Before I can react, however, he turns and hurries into the shop, and I keep walking with Jess through to the car park.

  "You okay?" Jess asks.

  "Yeah," I say, trying to work out why that guy caught my attention. "I'm fine, I just..." Suddenly it hits me. That guy wasn't a stranger. I've seen him before. In fact, I met him earlier today: it was Detective Stone, one of the police officers who came to Mark's apartment and asked him about Chrissie Briggs. I guess it could be a coincidence that he just happened to be here at Paddington when we were picking up Jess, but as we reach the car and Mark puts Jess's backpack in the boot, I feel a cold chill start to creep through my body. Mark's being watched. The police must really think he knows something about Chrissie's death.

  "Nice car," Jess says as she gets into the back.

  "Elly?" Mark says. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah".

  "You're happy, aren't you?" he continues.

  "Happy?" I ask, stunned by the question.

  "That your friend's here?"

  "Of course," I say. "It's the best surprise ever".

  "Good," he replies. "You need to relax for a few days".

  I nod, and then I force myself to get into the back with Jess. I need to act like nothing weird is happening, but I'm almost certain than Mark's under police surveillance, which means that I'm also being watched. Either that, or I'm totally paranoid and I'm cracking up completely. Smiling at Jess, I can see that she's suspicious. Damn it, suddenly I feel as if my entire world might be about to come crashing down.

  Jonathan Pope

  1901

  By the time I've assembled the necessary funds and documents, it's getting dark. I make my way by foot to Henrietta's home, and I can't deny that I have a heavy heart as I contemplate the fact that this is my last night in London. Never again will I experience the chaos and clamor of the world's busiest city; over the years, I have come to know these streets so well, and it's almost as if I'm to be leaving a true and dear friend. Still, to remain in London would be to put both myself and Henrietta in serious danger, and I'm certain that together we'll be able to find a new home elsewhere.

  When I reach the pavement outside Henrietta's home, however, I'm shocked to see that the front door is open. I pause for a moment, considering the possibility that her husband Benjamin has
not yet departed for his club. Just as I'm about to turn and hurry away, however, I see a group of police officers emerging from the house. I quickly walk on, my heart racing as I try to look inconspicuous. When I get to the end of the street, I stop and glance back; the officers have headed in the other direction, leaving the front door of the house still hanging wide open.

  I should run. I know, deep in my heart, that the only choice open to me is to get out of here. Still, I have to know what is happening. Walking back along the street, I hurry to the door and knock; moments later, another police officer comes through from one of the rooms.

  "Can I help you, Sir?" he asks.

  "I'm here to see Lady deHavilland," I say, trying to remain calm. "It's on a matter of great importance. We're to discuss a publication of..." My voice trails off as I realize that I've made a mistake; I should never have come to the door like this.

  "I see," the officer replies, "and might I ask -"

  "It's fine," I say, turning to leave. "I'll come another day".

  "Hold on," he says, grabbing me by the arm. "Would you like to come in, Sir? You might be able to help us with an aspect of our inquiries".

  "I'm sure I wouldn't be able to -"

  "Please, Sir," he insists, guiding me through the door. "I might be mistaken, but I've got a feeling I've seen your face somewhere before. You wouldn't happen to be Mr. Jonathan Pope, by any chance, would you?"

  "I am," I reply, feeling my chest tighten. "Might I ask why you're here?"

  "I'm afraid there's been an incident, Sir," he explains, leading me through to the conservatory, where we find a swarm of police officers engaged in frantic work. "Allow me to introduce you to my superior," the officer continues, as we reach a well-dressed man who seems to be examining some paperwork that he's found on the desk in the corner. "Mr. Laverty, Sir. This is Mr. Pope. It seems that he had an appointment with Lady deHavilland".