Page 35 of Brix

Marshall pulled into the back parking lot of the dingy little pub. Stepping inside, he took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light and then spotted the familiar figure in a booth along the wall. She wore a rain bonnet pulled down around her face, trying to conceal herself from everyone else.

Walking toward her, he stopped at the table and set the envelope down.

“It’s all I can give you right now. I need to leave. Don’t ask me for help again. Those men with Daphne are quite angry and intimidating. They’re coming for you, and there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

“Sit down, Marshall,” she said, smiling at him.

“You don’t get it, do you, Deirdre? I am not helping you any longer. This was a stupid, stupid plan! Daphne would have never remarried me, and you would have never gotten the estate of St. Valary. I am leaving the city for a while.”

“I’ll tell them everything,” she said threateningly.

“Tell them. I don’t care any longer,” he said with a huff. “In case you missed it, Deirdre, I’m an old man now. I have nothing to lose any longer. It’s already been stripped from me. Take the money and get out of the country. Those men will find you.”

She seethed as he turned and left her there, alone once again. Stuffing the envelope into her jacket, she stared at the photos on her phone of Daphne and her new husband. The men were different. Very different.

They’d said they were former military men, but these weren’t ordinary military men. There was an aura about them that she knew she understood. They were killers, and Marshall was right about one thing. They wouldn’t stop until they found her.

Deirdre ordered a basket of fish and chips to go and took the Rover north toward the Scottish borders. When she found a small bed and breakfast, she paid cash for the room and began to formulate another plan.

This time, she would come out on top.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

As the work continued to reunite families, the team picked up the pace on trying to find Deirdre Bishop.

“Alright, I have some additional information about Deirdre’s life in Ghana,” said Zulu. “We know that she was protected while her father was alive, but once he was killed by us, she was vulnerable. When the new leader took her mother as a wife, he decided to take her as well.”

“We knew that, Grandpa,” said Brix.

“I know, son. Just listen.” He smiled at the young man that he was so filled with pride for. He was a good man, a good husband and son, but he was also one of the best teammates. “Her father may have done her a favor by sterilizing her. Her new husband pretty much left her alone once he realized she couldn’t have children. He kept her because that meant keeping her and her mother both under his control, or so he thought.”

“How did we get this information?” asked Sebastian. “I mean, I don’t want to complain or anything, but how do we know it’s real?”

“She still has a brother living in Ghana. He was able to escape and now works in the city under a different name. His sister was of no value if she couldn’t produce children for their stepfather. He helped her disappear one night, giving her all the money he had, which was only about three hundred dollars.”

“How in the hell did she get from Ghana to the UK with only three hundred bucks?” frowned Major.

“She walked,” said Zulu, staring at the others. A sudden appreciation for Deirdre’s determination filled the room. “She walked from Ghana to Gibraltar, hiding on a boat out of Tangiers. She then walked, hitch-hiked, and traded sex for rides to France.”

“Holy fuck. How long did this take her?” asked Brix.

“According to her brother, almost four years. Once she got to France, she took odd jobs working in restaurants, cleaning office buildings, that sort of thing. She saved every penny she could, barely eating most days. Once she had enough for a ferry ticket to England, that’s where she went. By that time, she’d learned enough English to be pretty convincing.

“Again working her way through the country, she took odd jobs, read every book she could lay her hands on, watched old British films and television to refine her language, and then met Marshall. It had been nearly seven years by the time she waited outside those gates at Oxford. Seven years of doing everything she could to ensure success.”

“Did she ever try to get help? Maybe go to a refugee station or service?” asked Brix.

“Her brother said she went to two places asking for assistance. One denied her any help. The other was a woman’s shelter, where she was given a room for a month. It was enough to allow her to get on her feet.”

“Alright,” nodded Brix. “So we have one very, very determined woman wanting wealth and her place in society. Is that right?”

“According to her brother, that’s all she ever wanted. She wanted to have money. Lots of money, and she wanted to be noticed, be seen.”

“Well,” said Walker, nodding at the television screen. Heath had given them access to satellite television in order to get U.S. based news. “She’s being seen by the entire world now.”

“A story from across the pond, Kyle, and it’s a wild one. Lady Deirdre Bishop is wanted by Scotland Yard in the death of her husband, Lord Bishop. It is thought that Lady Bishop had something to do with the sinking of the Italian ship, the Costina, several years ago. Get this, Kyle. She arranged to have the children, the same forty-seven children that went missing after the sinking, taken to an orphanage.

“It’s only speculation at this point as to what she wanted to do with those children, but many, now adults, have reunited with their birth families. It’s a wonderful scene at Castle Moray Hotel, where dozens of people are discovering their families once again.”

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