Read sample The Carlswick Conspiracy

Chapter 1

The peace and tranquillity of the summer morning was broken as a large black SUV with tinted windows skidded to a stop, its tyres screeching in protest. A flock of birds took flight, squawking at being disturbed. The driver began reversing the vehicle at speed along the quiet country road.

“That’s it,” the front seat passenger said in heavily accented English. He glanced at the photograph lying on his lap. “Turn here.” He was a large man in his early forties, dressed from head to toe in black. A jagged scar, a souvenir from an old altercation, ran from the top of his left cheek to just below his earlobe.

The driver spun the wheel, over-correcting several times as he sped through the wrought iron gates of the imposing stone-columned entrance. The long gravel driveway was bordered with massive oak trees and as the car careered around the last corner the three men squashed into the back seat had their first glimpse of the manor house. There were murmurs of surprise and reluctant approval as they took in the magnificent pale brick building, its chimneys rising skyward. The sweeping lawn sloped gracefully from the front of the house to the miniature lake. A man on a ride-on mower was grooming the expansive grass carpet on the other side.

One of the men in the back put his hand on his gun holster but lowered it again after receiving a sharp rebuke from the front seat passenger.

“Sorry, Ivan,” he muttered.

With a spatter of flying gravel the car jerked to a stop in front of the house. All four doors opened at once and the five men got out. Ivan and the driver, a lumbering giant of a man, walked towards the stone porch surrounding the main entrance and the other three men, younger, dressed in similar dark jeans and shirts, split up, peering in windows and around the sides of the house. Ivan pressed the ornate doorbell at one side of a large wooden door.

Approaching footsteps could be heard and several seconds later the door was opened by a grey-haired woman in her late fifties. She wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron and regarded the two men with a pleasant smile.

“Good morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?”

“Mrs Knox?” Ivan asked.

“Oh no, I’m Grace, the housekeeper,” she replied, glancing over Ivan’s shoulder. Her eye caught movement in her peripheral vision and she noticed the other men studying the house. She took a half step backwards and rested her hand on a ledge just inside the doorway, her fingers feeling for a button.

“Well then, Grace. We would like to speak with Alex Knox,” Ivan said, his cold blue eyes studying her.

Grace’s fingers found the button and pressed it twice. “Join the queue,” she said, keeping her gaze on the two men in front of her.

The second man took a step forward, looking affronted.

“Is he here?” Ivan asked, putting a hand out as if to restrain his colleague.

“No. We haven’t seen him in almost a year,” she replied.

Ivan was silent for a moment. “Well then, you won’t mind if we take a look around to see for ourselves.”

Grace stayed exactly where she was. “Actually, I would mind. You can leave your name and if I hear from him, I will pass on your details.” She raised her chin and looked him directly in the eye.

The man beside Ivan spat onto the ground and swore in a foreign language. Grace flinched, her breath catching in her throat.

The engine sounds of several approaching vehicles filled the silence that followed. A large farm truck pulled to a stop in front of the house followed by two quad bikes. Two men alighted from the truck’s cab and one bounded from the tray on the back, a shotgun slung over his shoulder. The male passengers stepped off the back of the quad bikes leaving their drivers, two women, seated with the engines idling. The farm workers flanked the visitors.

Grace exhaled and caught her husband’s eye. “These gentlemen are looking for Alex,” she called.

“Well you won’t find him here,” Ken Walker replied, closing the door of the truck and stepping forward. He was a tall, softly spoken man wearing muddy overalls. “But if you do come across him, send him our way. We too have a number of things to discuss with him.”

Ivan gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and held up his hands in a gesture of peace as he stepped back from the doorway. He gave a flick of his head and he and his men walked back to their car. When he reached the car he gave a single nod to the tallest of the group, a man with the build of a rugby player, who reached into the back and retrieved a semi-automatic weapon fixed to the inside of the door.

A collective gasp sounded from the farm workers as the man cradled the weapon like a precious baby, its sleek black casing catching the sunlight.

The farmer carrying the shotgun began to swing it around from over his shoulder but Ken shook his head.

“No, Steve.”

Steve hesitated and then using deliberate movements, laid the shotgun on the ground in front of him and took two steps backwards, not taking his eyes off Ivan or the gunman as he did so.

Ken spread his arms as a show of surrender and glanced around at his crew who appeared to be frozen in place. No one spoke. Even the birds and animals had fallen silent as though waiting for something to happen. Time seemed suspended and tension hung in the air between the locals and the visitors for a long minute.

Ivan surveyed the gathering in a calm and considered manner, ensuring he had everyone’s attention. He then gave another single nod.

The gunman raised the weapon and sprayed the house with a volley of bullets. The loud burst of gunfire took everyone by surprise. The bullets made a dull thud as they slammed into the brickwork of the house, sending small clouds of plaster dust into the air. Ken and the other farm workers yelled and dropped to the ground, covering their heads with their hands as the quad bike drivers dived for cover behind their vehicles.

The sound of glass shattering in the drawing room windows filled the air. Grace crouched in the doorway, holding the doorframe with one hand and covering her face with her other arm, crying out as a trail of bullets thumped into the wood above her, small woodchips splintering over her head.

The firing continued in bursts for several more seconds, smashing the windows of Alex’s study, before ceasing. There was complete silence for a moment after the glass stopped falling from the shattered windows.

Those on the ground lifted their heads a little and peered from beneath their arms. The gunman turned his body slightly and fired again, two short controlled bursts, taking out the windscreen and front tyres of the truck. One of the women hiding behind her quad bike screamed. The gunman lowered his weapon as his mouth curved into a satisfied grin.

Ivan held the door of the car open as he surveyed the destruction. “Alex owes us a good deal of money. He has been given seven days, otherwise we will be forced to look elsewhere to recover our losses,” he said, eyeing the house. “Do you understand?”

“Alex is wanted by the police in this country. He no longer has any claim on this property,” Ken replied, rising to his knees from his prone position.

“It belongs to his family, no?” Ivan asked. “Then we have claim to it. Tell Alex that we’re looking for him and next time we’ll not be so accommodating.”

Chapter 2

Stephanie Cooper pulled her wheeled suitcase behind her as she walked through the automatic doors separating the Customs area from the Arrivals Hall at John F Kennedy airport. She felt a bubble of excitement as she was surrounded by a cacophony of American accents. Her first ever visit to New York. She suddenly felt a long way from New Zealand.

She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes skimmed the crowd. James had said that he would send a car for her but her name wasn’t on any of the boards held by the expectant group of suited drivers. As she walked towards the crowd of people waiting behind a barrier she was struck by the sensation of being watched.

Someone running caught her eye. James. She broke into a grin as he vaulted the railing, picked her up and spun her around. Stephanie laughed as he kissed her, and other passengers smiled as they stepped around the reunited couple. Depositing her back on her feet, he grabbed her suitcase with one hand and slipped his other arm around her waist pulling her in close.

“Hey, you,” he said. “I’m so pleased you’re finally here.”

“I didn’t think that you were coming to meet me,” she replied.

“I was always coming to meet you.” He smiled.

“You’ve changed your hair again,” she said, reaching up and pushing his straight dark hair out of his eyes, her hand gently grazing his cheek. “I like it.” James still sported his trademark long fringe, but the sides and back had been closely cropped. He was tall with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. He wore dark blue jeans and a checked shirt unbuttoned over a faded blue t-shirt. He stopped walking and leaned down to kiss her again, as a flashbulb went off nearby.

“James, this way,” a voice called. James broke the kiss and scowled. He glanced in the direction of the voice. “Who’s this, James?”

“Come on.” James pulled her along with him.

“Who’s that?” Stephanie asked, glancing over her shoulder. The camera flashed again.

“Bloody paparazzi,” he replied, breaking into a slow jog.

Stephanie giggled, running to keep up with him. “Look at you, running from photographers. I thought this was just the sort of publicity you guys were after?”

James frowned. “I s’pose. Liam and Jack love it as I’m sure you can imagine. But I haven’t seen you for three months and I don’t want this spoiled by some guy shoving a camera in our faces.”

They rushed through another set of automatic doors which led outside to a queue of black estate cars and yellow taxis. They jogged down the row until they came to a sleek black limousine. The driver stepped forward to greet them.

“Hello, Ms Cooper,” he said, touching his hat as he greeted Stephanie. He took her suitcase from James and placed it in the trunk.

“No way.” Stephanie looked from James to the limo and back in disbelief.

“Welcome to New York, baby,” James replied in a fake American accent as he held the rear door open for her. She stepped into the vehicle. James followed, pulling the door shut behind them. He sank into the leather seat beside her with a sigh.

“Come here,” he said. “Let me say hello properly.”

Stephanie slid across the wide back seat into his arms and kissed him.

“I can’t believe you came to pick me up in a limo,” she exclaimed. She sat back and took in the massive interior, with seating for ten, a flat screen TV playing music videos and a shiny minibar lit with gently flashing coloured lights.

“It’s actually not that uncommon here,” James said with a laugh. “And the look on your face was so worth it.”

“I have missed you,” she murmured before pressing her lips to his once again.

“You too. I know we’ve Skyped a lot, but it’s not the same,” James replied.

Stephanie settled into his arms and gazed out of the window as the car merged with the traffic leaving the airport. The late afternoon sun hung in the cloudless summer sky as though suspended by an invisible cord.

“I can’t believe that I’m finally in New York. I can’t wait to explore,” she said.

“Well, the band has two more days of interviews and one more show—then I am all yours—so long as Cam doesn’t come up with anything else. He’s been adding to our itinerary as we go,” James said. “But you can be backstage at our last concert and come along to the studios and stuff with me.”

“I don’t want to be in the way,” Stephanie said, turning to look at him.

“You won’t be. I just hope that you don’t get too bored. There seems to be a lot of sitting around waiting for things to happen,” James replied, dipping his head and kissing the tip of her nose.

Stephanie wrinkled it in response and resumed gazing out of the window as suburban New York, with its blocks of low rise shops and houses, passed by. They left the borough of Queens and drove through Brooklyn towards the East River. Four lanes of traffic flowed in each direction and Stephanie had her first glimpse of iconic New York brownstone townhouses, before turning back to look at James.

“You must be pleased to have finished work,” he said.

“Yes and no,” Stephanie replied. “I’ve been so looking forward to this trip, but the last six weeks working with DI Marks have been amazing. I’ve learned so much.”

“Yeah?” James sounded surprised. “I thought he might’ve just had you making the coffee. Speaking of which, Andy still can’t believe that you turned down his offer of a summer job at The Café to go and work for the Old Bill.”

“Andy was going to be away with you all summer, so it wouldn’t have been as much fun, and besides this was an offer that I couldn’t refuse.”

“So what exactly were you doing?”

“Research, looking into cold case files mainly. As you know, Marks is head of Scotland Yard’s Art and Antiques Squad, so it’s all to do with forgery and art theft. Not just the Nazi stuff we were involved with, but other old cases and a surprising number of current ones too.”

“Has anything more come up about the paintings and things that were stolen from under our noses in January?” he asked.

“No. Y’know I still have nightmares about how badly that could have turned out. I’ve been emailing Jean-Pierre. He seems to have recovered just fine—he says that the whole thing’s been great for business. Everyone has wanted to visit the site of the long lost cache and he’s selling wine to every visitor.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to be concerned about our French friend?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t play the jealous boyfriend on me. I have so much more reason to be the jealous one. I mean how many girls have been hanging around on this tour?”

“I haven’t noticed,” James replied, giving her an innocent look.

Stephanie snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“The boys have been having some fun, for sure, but Andy and I have been monks, I promise.”

“Hey, is that Brooklyn Bridge?” she asked, distracted, as the famous landmark came into view. The spectacular suspension bridge spanned the expanse of the East River and provided an unparalleled view of Manhattan.

James nodded and pointed. “See above the road? There’s a pedestrian walkway across the bridge. We should go there one night and watch the sunset. I’m told it’s spectacular.”

Stephanie sat forward in her seat looking out of the car windows, her head feeling like it was on a swivel, trying to take everything in. “Let’s definitely add that to the list.”

“What list is that?”

“The list of things that we’re going to do and see next week once you’ve finished the tour and we can be tourists.”

“Do I get to add things to the list?”

“Only if you’re good.”

“Oh, you know I’m good. You’d better get that pen ready.”

Stephanie laughed.

They crossed the bridge into Manhattan.

“Your hotel is in Midtown, so I thought we could get you checked in and then we’ll catch a cab down to ours. We’re in Tribeca, so not that far,” James said, tightening his arms around her. “I’m really sorry that you can’t just stay with me, but y’know Cam.”

“I know. He’s been cultivating the British boy band heart throb image, and girlfriends who come to stay could ruin that,” Stephanie concluded for him.

James shrugged. “Something like that. You could’ve let me book you somewhere nicer than this, though,” he said, peering out of the window as they pulled up to the kerb in front of an ugly concrete tower that was home to the three-star tourist class hotel that Stephanie had booked. The entrance had a large awning embellished with the flags of a number of different countries.

Stephanie shook her head. “We’re not having this conversation again. This is all my budget allows right now and I’m not spending your money.”

It was James’s turn to roll his eyes as the car door was opened by a porter. “At least let me pay for the limo.”

Stephanie gave him a quick kiss before stepping from the car. “Okay,” she conceded with a smile.

They entered the large lobby of the hotel. It was decorated in nondescript beige tones and had the sterile smell of industrial floor polish. After checking in at the busy reception desk, they took the elevator to the twenty-second floor. Stephanie’s room was basic. King-sized bed, a single armchair, a small coffee table and wall-mounted flat screen TV. A doorway led to a tiny ensuite bathroom. James pulled a face, which Stephanie ignored as she crossed the room, throwing open the sheer curtains to take in the outlook from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Wow, what a view.”

Her room faced east along 44^th Street. All around were huge skyscrapers. At street level, the road was littered with black town cars, yellow taxis and people looking like ants scurrying here and there. The sounds of the traffic; engines revving, car horns and the occasional siren filtered skywards. The late afternoon sun shone between the buildings, casting long shadows.

“I agree. You look amazing,” James said as he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” she said, laughing. “I’m finally in New York City—I can’t believe it. This is so cool.”

Stephanie gave a contented sigh and relaxed into his embrace. James tucked her hair behind one ear and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. She turned in his arms until she was facing him and reached up on tiptoes as she curled one hand around his neck and pulled his head towards hers.

James’s mobile rang at that moment. He groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said as he dug it out of his jeans pocket. “What?” he growled into it.

Stephanie couldn’t hear the response of the person on the other end, but could get the gist of it by James’s answer. She ran her fingers over the short bristles on the back of his head as he spoke.

“God forbid that could happen. He’d need to give us more than a few moments alone first.” James leaned over to kiss her again, the phone still pressed to his ear. He let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay—see you soon.”

“Sorry, babe. That was Andy. Looks like I forgot that Cam wants us for drinks with some industry types in an hour—some publicity thing.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just unpack and settle in,” Stephanie replied, shrugging her shoulders and stepping out of his embrace, turning away so that he wouldn’t see the disappointment on her face.

James pulled her back towards him. “You’re included too, Steph.”

Stephanie looked up into his eyes. “Are you sure? Cam has already given me the lecture about girlfriends hanging around on this tour.”

“He said to bring you; otherwise we’ll alienate half of our fan base by all appearing to be gay.”

“No way—he can’t have said that.”

“Not in so many words,” James replied, laughing at her shocked expression. “Do you want to get changed?”

“Yeah—I might grab a quick shower too.”

James’s eyes lit up. Stephanie shook her head. “No—then it wouldn’t be a quick shower. Sit,” she said pushing him into the armchair. “I can be ready in ten minutes.”

“You might just be the perfect girlfriend,” James joked as Stephanie unzipped her suitcase and found her favourite blue and purple Pucci-style mini-dress.

“And don’t you forget it,” Stephanie replied with a grin.

“That reminds me,” James said reaching for his jacket. He pulled a slim mobile phone out of a pocket. “This is for you.”

“James,” Stephanie said in a warning tone. “What did we say about you constantly buying things for me?”

“Consider this a ‘welcome to New York’ gift—an inexpensive one. No really,” he said seeing the look of disbelief that passed across her face. “Anyway, it’s preloaded with credit and I’ve set up all the important numbers—mine, of course, along with Andy’s, Anna’s, Cam’s, and your dad’s.”

“Wait—you have my father’s number?”

“Of course—aside from being your father, he’s my solicitor,” James said.

“Since when?”

“Since the start of the year,” James replied.

“He never mentioned it,” Stephanie said, taking the phone from his hand and throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you, I love it. I’ll have a play with it later, but right now I’d better get ready.” She gave him a quick kiss and headed for the bathroom, winding her long dark hair into a topknot as she walked. “Y’know, you might just be the perfect boyfriend—I might have to keep you around a bit longer,” she added with a cheeky grin before closing the door.

They pulled up in front of the band’s hotel in a yellow taxi. Stephanie had spent the whole ride gazing out of the window and squeezing James’s hand with a big grin on her face as they passed New York icon after New York icon—Times Square with its crowds of people and flashing neon signs, the majestic Empire State Building and the art deco style Chrysler Building with its silvery crown pointing skyward.

A motorcycle courier dressed in black leather rushed through the hotel’s main door and collided with James as they stepped into the foyer. The impact hit James in the shoulder and spun him off balance.

“Watch where ya going,” the man sneered from beneath his helmet.

Stephanie put her hand out to steady James as the man strode out onto the street.

“Idiot,” James muttered, shaking his head at the retreating figure.

The hotel was modern, all shiny black lacquered wood, marble and glass. The reception area was dominated by a large desk manned by attractive staff dressed in smart navy suits. Several of the women glanced up and smiled at James, who seemed oblivious to their attention. A floral scent hung in the air from several large flower arrangements.

“Excuse me,” one of the women called.

James turned.

“Are you going up to your floor now?”

“Yeah,” James replied.

“A courier just left this for your manager, would you mind delivering it?” she asked, walking towards them carrying a large white envelope.

“Yeah, no problem.” James took the envelope and hit the up button to call the elevator.

They travelled to the eighth floor.

“Our rooms are all at one end of this floor,” James said pausing to slide the envelope under a door as they walked along the carpeted passage. “I have to warn you, I’ve been sharing with Andy and he’s such a slob,” he said, waving his key card over the electronic reader on a door marked 807.

Andy and James’s room was large and easily incorporated two king-sized beds with a doorway between them leading to a bathroom. Beneath the windows on the opposite side of the room were two white leather sofas and a glass-topped coffee table. As with the reception area, the décor was monochrome—white walls, black woodwork, black and white duvets and old-fashioned sash style windows covered in gauzy black and white curtains.

“Hey.” Andy jumped up off one bed to greet them. He was shorter than James with a mop of blond curly hair. He had an infectious grin and easy laugh. His side of the room was neat and tidy. The area around the other bed, that Stephanie could only assume was James’s, was strewn with clothes, guitars, device cables, books and magazines.

James frowned. “I thought you were going to tidy up.”

“I tidied my stuff, dude,” Andy replied. “I’m not your slave.”

“Cheers,” James replied, stooping to gather up an armful of clothes and move them into a pile on the other side of the bed out of sight.

“Ignore him.” Stephanie stepped around James and hugged Andy. “How are you?”

“Great. How was your flight?”

“All good—I’m so excited to be in New York.”

“We’ve seen a lot of cities in a relatively short time, but there’s something about New York,” he replied. “I’m glad we’re getting to spend a week here.”

“I know. I’ve been reading some of the reviews from the shows. You guys have taken the country by storm,” she replied.

“Album sales have literally gone through the roof,” Andy said. “So much so that Cam has got us a spot on MTV. Did James tell you?”

“Yeah—he didn’t say it was MTV, though,” she said, turning to James.

He shrugged.

“Is Anna still coming in on Tuesday night for a whirlwind visit?” Andy asked.

Stephanie nodded. “Are you looking forward to seeing her?”

“Maybe,” he said.

Stephanie grinned at the obvious understatement.

There was a knock on the door. Andy pulled it open and Dave stepped into the room, dressed in tight black jeans and a white t-shirt. His dreadlocks were pulled back into a small ponytail and the sun had deepened his coffee-coloured skin since Stephanie had last seen him.

“Hey, Steph,” he said, breaking into a smile and giving her a high five. “We’ve been given the ten minute call, boys.”

“You can go ahead without us,” James said, stepping behind Stephanie and wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tightly to him. “We’ll meet you there.”

Dave shook his head. “Nuh-uh. Cam has insisted that we all must go together. United front. Steph too. Sorry, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He held his hands up as James glared at him.

James groaned. “Okay. Give me a minute to get changed,” he said, rummaging around in a long wardrobe that ran down one side of the room.

“Are we s’posed to dress up?” he asked, glancing sideways at Andy, who was wearing an unusual deconstructed chocolate brown jacket over a pale blue open-necked shirt and jeans.

“Nah. Andy’s just a poser,” Dave answered from the doorway, ducking as Andy lobbed a shoe at him.

“We’re part of the new wave of British artists who are the trendsetters of the moment according to New York Today magazine—so we can wear whatever we like,” Andy replied with a grin. “And since we keep getting given stuff, I thought it would be rude not to.”

Stephanie smiled. James disappeared into the bathroom and returned topless a few moments later and grabbed a shirt off his bed.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asked as he came to stand beside her and pull on the shirt he’d selected. She reached out, stopping him, running her fingers over the tattoo on the back of his right shoulder. “That’s new.”

“We all got them in Chicago,” he replied. “What do you think?”

Stephanie studied the small stylized guitar with the words ‘The Fury’ inked underneath. “I like it,” she said.

“Wait until you see Jack,” Dave added. “There ain’t much plain skin left on those little arms of his.”

She raised her eyebrows. “His mum won’t be happy.”

“I know,” Dave replied grinning. “I so want to be a fly on the wall for that reunion.”

Andy’s phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “Cars are here.”

“We’ll follow,” James said, slipping his arms back around Stephanie.

“No. We’re going now,” she said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing him away. “I don’t want to be responsible for you being late the first night I get here.”

James leaned back, giving her a smouldering look. “Do we care?”

“If we don’t want Cam to ban me on day one, then we do,” she replied, reaching over to button his shirt.