Page 35 of Pervade Montego Bay
I felt the brunt of her words. They were holding Xavier illegally—the equivalent of throwing away the key.
James
Idoubted I’d ever call her.
But for some reason, I memorized Kitty’s phone number before shredding the post-it note. Sitting back, I took a deep breath, feeling everything was about to change.
I kept thinking about those conversations I’d had with Xavier—his implication that he could help me resolve the issue I’d been working on since I’d arrived in this place. My research into Victoria’s private files had turned up nothing. All I’d found were redacted documents, which led me to suspect that someone here knew more about her death than they were willing to share with me.
Me…her husband, who worked for the same agency and had virtually the same clearance.
Resting my face in my hands, I sank into the despair I knew so well…a dark hole I had no way of climbing out of it. On the surface, I feigned all was fine, but I felt dead inside.
If I walked out that door I’d never return.
Don’t do it.
This world has gone to hell and you know it—nothing can be done.
What I was thinking of doing was professional suicide: following through on this impulse risked my sanity. I had a family name to live up to. My father had been close to royalty. That had brought me a certain privilege…an access to the echelons of power.
The kill switch on my downward spiral was inaccessible.
I made my way over to the quartermaster’s supply room. Interestingly enough, my actions reflected a calm man, a reasoned man, who was meant to be here rummaging through wardrobes with countless uniforms, all of them used at one time or another for covert operations. I found one that would be most useful—a senior Army officer’s garb that carried the authority needed to pull off my precarious ruse. It fit well enough. I slipped it into the suit carrier. With no QM currently on duty to sign me out, there’d be no record of me stealing this Brigadier’s uniform—with campaign medals, no less.
I was certifiable.
Probably nothing that a few rounds of therapy couldn’t cure—if I still gave a fuck. Trouble was I’d been pushed to the brink. Pulling back from the edge towards reason seemed an unlikely choice.
This is not about you.
Thisis for Victoria.
Without her I might as well be dead.
You have nothing left to lose.
I left the building with that sentiment guiding my way, feeling like I was having an out-of-body experience.
I soon reached the parking structure, where I threw the uniform carrier onto the backseat of my car.
Driving my Aston Martin V12, I made it from London to Colchester in less than two hours. As each mile carried me closer to my destination, I felt the inevitability of how this day was going to end.
On the way, I stopped to change into the uniform I’d stolen.
For some reason, I already held a deep affection for that compromised agent I was risking my life for. He was the opposite of all I’d known. There was a rebellious streak in him that appealed to my more sensible side—a side that was now fading. I was a man of order and logic and yet this felt right. Or maybe this was the suicide mission I’d been pining for. I couldn’t live without Victoria, and that was a hard fact. Since her death I’d been half the man I was before.
Since her death all I’d felt was emptiness.
My concern for Xavier increased with each passing second. He didn’t strike me as the kind who could survive prison. Or carry the burden of being wrongly accused. He was probably feeling the same futility. I could be a bastard sometimes, but I had yet to hang up my humanity.
My fake I.D., and the uniform of a Brigadier in the Royal Army Medical Corp, got me into The Glasshouse, the military’s only prison based in Colchester. Getting into the restrictive area was going to take a little more fenagling.
If Kitty’s intel was right my man was here.
I pulled out my phone and called her.
She answered the burner phone after one ring.
