‘Fair enough,’ he said and shrugged. ‘I just think we need to be open to any variable. As you say, this doesn't make sense. Also, who’s the woman the two men referred to at Charles’ house?’
Paul read his notes. ‘“Fucking mad bitch”. Either of you two want to volunteer for the position?’
Clio and I laughed. It was an epitaph we had heard many times, on many missions.
‘Whose turn is it this month, yours or mine?’ asked Clio.
The hot chocolate and crackling logs were finally warming me up, and despite the urgency and the issues, I was enjoying myself. These three people were my best friends, and I was safe and happy. The job was properly stretching me and the company was excellent. Life was good.
‘Alright. Paul and Clio, a bit of leg work for you. There's a memorial service for Charles coming up, so please can you check out the venue? Julius is likely to be there. I think he’s now the key to finding the egg early. I don't want another attack. Ramin, can you dig deep and see what you can find out about him? I suggest you go to his place of work, as he hasn't left much of a digital footprint. Talk to people, see what they say.’
‘And what are you going to do?’
‘Research the egg. Here, by the fire. I'll even cook dinner.’
Laughing, we broke up. My culinary skills extended to ordering takeaways. Fish and chips for four.
#18 Julius – Beta Earth
Julius went over his notes for the eulogy and then, utterly deflated, he pushed away his laptop and made himself an omelette. He was exhausted, and hadn't been able to shake his headache. He knew this was partly grief, but he still couldn't get over the events of the previous afternoon and the strange woman in Charlie’s house. She had been wearing black jeans, fur-trimmed leather boots and a dark, slim-fitting jumper. With her blunt bob and heavy-framed glasses, she looked like any student you would find in Cambridge. But Julius was convinced no one would ever mistake her for a student, not if they looked closely.
He wasn't sure what he thought she was, but the way she ignored him and took control made him think military. The more he thought about her story, the less he thought she was police, as she had claimed. She was entirely too self-controlled. Was she also after the egg? He didn't think she was involved in the shooting. After all she had saved him from the men who had broken into Charlie’s. And what was that thing that she had thrown down the stairs? Some sort of hallucinogenic nerve agent? Whatever it was, he wouldn't be surprised if those two were now under psychiatric care. The tiny dose he had experienced had been terrifying, and she had shown him how to protect himself. He supposed it was relief that had made him gabble like a school child. But at least she seemed interested in what he had to say, whilst the police had almost yawned.
He looked at his watch and saw that he had lost track of time. Realising the moment had come, he scraped his cold, uneaten omelette into the bin and set off to Charlie’s memorial service.
The church was packed with Charlie’s friends, family and colleagues. He had been a popular fellow, but few could say they knew him well. That wasn't his style; he travelled too much to settle down and build a close relationship. Besides his parents, Julius was the only other person in the congregation that could claim to properly know Charlie. Despite that, there were many sad faces and tears. He was, after all, popular. And if you had asked anyone in the room, they would have all claimed to be a close and personal friend. Julius stood beside Charlie’s bewildered parents.
They had spoken privately earlier and already knew of his involvement in the emergence of a possible Fabergé egg. It didn't help much, but at least it explained his violent death. The fact that his death had been instantaneous and in the middle of him doing something he loved, was the tiniest of consolations. It was all they could hang on to right now. If only for them, Julius wanted to find the egg. Maybe he could donate it to the museum in Charlie’s name?
Walking up to the lectern, he gazed over the congregation. He had never enjoyed being the centre of attention. When he gave a lecture, he expected the students to pay attention to the message, not the messenger.
He decided to start the eulogy this way, explaining that he was pretending this was a lecture and he was going to tell them about a most fascinating subject. The congregation gave a bitter-sweet chuckle. He didn't need notes as his memory was perfect, and talking about Charlie was never a challenge. He just wished he was in the congregation, yawning loudly at him and gesturing that they bugger off early and get a pint.
Looking out over the faces, he saw two men enter the back of the church. Julius didn’t recognise them. They certainly didn’t look like academics, more like the heavy mob. The men fanned out on either side of the church and began to walk down the side of the pews. Julius carried on speaking, but was distracted by a second group of four people entering the church. This time one of them at least was familiar. The smaller of the two women was the one he had met in Charlie’s house. He stumbled, and she looked over at him, giving him a little thumbs up, then continued to follow one of the first men around the edge of the congregation.
As Julius faltered, one of the first men turned his head to see what he was staring at. As soon as the thug saw that someone had followed him into the church, he paused. Julius paused too, unsure of what was happening. He looked at Neith,
