If there had been a place he'd have expected Olivia to live, a spot like Ascot would have been it. A little over a hour away from London, the affluent town of around eleven thousand in east Berkshire boasted several hundred millionaires all its own, private schools prestigious enough that real life princesses had attended, and a course hosting a horse race that was one of the seminal gatherings of the upper class British social calendar: the Royal Ascot. Even the royal family attended, every single day of the event.
Her mother Sarah lived in South Ascot, a village just 'down the hill' from the town. According to Google, the village was more 'modest' in terms of wealth than Ascot itself.
That meant some of the houses were 'only' going for over eight hundred thousand American dollars.
Hoo boy.
As Frank had driven his rented Chevy Spark into the village, he'd idly wondered if this was a place he'd find some of Evie's extended family tree.
Frank had attempted to first call Sarah. Listed as Sarah Eddington (she hadn't dropped the director's last name despite not living with him for the past three years), the number had been easy enough to find once Frank had the name from Templar records. She hadn't picked up though, and still feeling that it was important to see her, Frank had gone to a London Enterprise rental, gotten a car, and started driving along the M4 towards South Ascot.
The drive had been pleasant enough, uneventful. The alarm he used to feel upon seeing everyone driving on the 'wrong' side of the road had dulled to a low flutter of late. Crazy ass monsters weren't the only things Frank had had to get used to.
With more open fields and woodlands than the town, South Ascot almost had a 'country' feel to Frank more than 'suburb' as he puttered along a two lane road with tall trees on either side. Well. Until you looked at some of the houses. Country estates, perhaps. The Victorian style villas were large, handsome structures that often had ornamental lawns, pools or large ponds, and more than likely hefty price tags.
Just then a dark green sports car passed Frank, and he blinked at the enlongated tear drop shape. A few seconds later his brain caught up to what he had just seen. Sixty-five Jaguar E Type.
Okay. So this really wasn't 'the country' as he was used to. This was maybe where you retired to be a 'man of leisure.'
The American Templar cracked a wry grin.
If perhaps you were Scrooge Fucking McDuck and swam in money. And here he was in a Spark. James Bond didn't drive a Spark.
Tova Stolt's secretary probably didn't drive a Spark. God damn it.
Shaking his head, Frank continued driving. About fifteen minutes later, he had arrived at the address he'd found for one Sarah Eddington. Located near the center of the village on a quiet street with a large park near by, the two story house was one of many set in a line along the street. With a pitched roof and slate tiles, a brick wall with a neatly trimmed hedge and a honest to God white picket fence gate that you walked through to get into the yard, it was a structure that seemed very cozy to Frank.
Parking behind a Ford Transit (the damned things were everywhere), Frank got out of his own vehicle and noticed a 'For Sale' sign in the yard. Interesting. Coming up to the fence gate, Frank looked back at the Transit. It had a big yellow 'Hertz' logo on the side. He hoped Mrs. Eddington was actually home.
When he came up the little brick pathway to the front door, he realized there wasn't a doorbell. Shrugging to himself, Frank started to knock on the door—just to have it swing open as he applied pressure. It hadn't been latched. Well then. In for a penny...
Frank pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered.
“Mrs. Eddington? Ma'am, are you home?”
Silence answered him. Slowly walking deeper into the house, Frank could see bare white walls and a well maintained wooden floor. There were holes in the former from where paintings or picture frames might have hung. It looked like a house that had been emptied. Calling out her name once more, Frank reached Eddington's kitchen—spacious, with an expensive looking island in the center, but currently empty of almost everything but a table and two chairs.
And a startled looking Sarah Eddington.
Who had a pocket pistol in her hands, pointed at Frank. Frank slowly lifted his hands up.
“I didn't think the Illuminati would be so bold! Vultures, just waited until they took away my security detail, eh? You...you won't find me easy prey!”
Frank gawped at her.
“Lady, I ain't--”
“A Yank suddenly barges in here where there are no Americans in this village, never have been, when I'm at my most vulnerable? New York could at least have respected my intelligence and sent an Englishman and tried to be deceptive...”
Her hands were shaking, but she was still keeping the muzzle trained on his center.
“Mrs. Eddington, uh, yer door was kinda open. Ma'am, m'names Frank Calhoun, an' I worked for your husband and--”
“Oh please! That isn't going to work with me--”
If this kept up she was going to shoot him just from the death grip she had on the pocket pistol. Well, might as well just go with the truth.
“I'm here about yer daughter. I'm here about Olivia.”
Sarah blinked at him several times, and the pistol lowered a half-inch.
“You're...what? What about Olivia?”
Frank sighed, hands still raised.
“Can maybe you put the hold out gun away and we'll talk for a spell? My arms are gonna get real tired at this rate.”
Sarah Eddington had hesitated until Frank mentioned Tova Stolt had sent him. This seemed to reassure her more than anything else he had said, and she had lowered the pistol, blushing terribly. Politely, Frank asked if he could go actually latch the door and make sure it was shut. When he said this, Eddington sighed heavily.
“I have...gotten so used to the second detail man shutting it, you see. That's how it worked. The detail from...from the company was a pair. One in front, one behind. I've become so used to it I forget to shut the bloody door...” That's what ARTEMIS had often been referred to as: 'the company.'
Slumping into one of the kitchen's two chairs as Frank returned, Eddington put the small pistol away into a handbag that matched the cheerful floral dress she was wearing. She'd just come in to do more work on packing.
“Three-eighty ACP?” Frank asked, nodding at the pistol as it was secreted away. His SIG was as small a pistol as he wanted to carry. Smaller handguns like hers interested him, but only in a distant, academic way.
“I have no idea,” she replied with an embarrassed smile. “I have had it for exactly a week. I know I point it at someone and it is supposed to make a rather loud noise if I squeeze the trigger.” At Frank's surprised look she laughed softly, shaking her head.
“What? Mister Calhoun, I come from an old Templar family. Decently well off. Well. We were. I had my basic instruction in regards to the occult and this Secret World of ours, but generally I always had someone else responsible for my protection. Then as Jerry's wife I had the protection of the company. I have...never had to concern myself with it before. Now I have to move out, manage all this on my own...and take care of my own skin.”
It was a surprise to Frank. Every single woman he knew in the Secret World knew how to defend themselves, and generally had had to at some point. Often, usually. Then again, every single woman he knew in the Secret World was either a field agent or someone who had been a field agent.
“Don't take this th' wrong way, ma'am, but it's kinda a surprise t' me that yer Old Templar. The director...uh, 'Jerry,' was kinda New Templar in th' extreme...”
“Ah, yes. As I partially indicated, the fortunes of my family had started to wane. I...I saw an opportunity when I met Jerry.” Eddington cracked a wistful smile.
“Jeremy Eddington was the head of a cabal that was growing in importance and power. He seemed a decent enough man—and it seemed a chance to escape the slowly sinking ship that was my Old Templar family. And for Jerry it meant having some Old Templar backing for his project within the Hall. It made sense at the time.”
She let out a wry chuckle, placing her hands on the table.
“We both must sound like cold, beastly people. Marriage based entirely on politics and wealth. Exactly what our detractors would expect.” Frank shrugged heavily back at her.
“Ma'am, yeah, that don't sound all that noble but...I seen worse. Lots worse.” Her blue eyes looking over at Frank's hardened gaze, Eddington nodded.
“I imagine you have, especially working for the company. Mister Calhoun...please tell me why you are here. What is this about my daughter?”
Leaning back in the wooden chair, Frank began to explain—his being contacted by Stolt, his initial investigation, and Temple Hall's assessment. Eddington raised her hand to stop him when he got to that last part.
“If they think she's been forced into this why aren't they—oh, of course. They aren't getting more involved for the same reason I'm now without any kind of security detail. We're just not important enough any more...they'd rather forget about us entirely.” Her hands balled into fists, and Frank bowed his head slightly.
“I'm sorry, ma'am. But I am lookin' for her...an' my read so far on it is she went willingly. Would you maybe know why that might be?”
Something seemed to pass across her face before she shook her head.
“I...no. I'm afraid I do not, Mister Calhoun. I cannot imagine a valid reason why my daughter would accompany a known Illuminati agent.”
Frank watched her for several seconds, then nodded, pulling out his phone. He'd taken the liberty of pulling one of the CCTV stills for future use. Bringing up the image, Frank held out the phone to her, cocking his head to the side.
“You recognize this fellah?”
This time she couldn't even begin to hide her response. Recognition was painted all over her. She nodded slowly.
“Yes, that...that is a young man Olivia met at university. At Manchester!” Her earlier words about the New York sending an Englishman seemed to hang in the air now, heavy. Frank withdrew the phone, depositing it back in his pocket. Eddington clasped her hands together, disbelief in her eyes.
“It can't...he is an Illuminati agent?”
“Seems that way. Th' counter-intel folks only figured it out about a month ago, I don't even know how. Certainly young for an agent, but it ain't unheard of. And it looks like that info wasn't passed around as maybe it should've. I reckon at that point y'all were already completely out of the loop.”
“He seemed like such a nice boy,” murmured Eddington. “Maybe...I mean, Mister Calhoun, you must understand...things have been so strained. Olivia and I had been close, but with the demise of the company...the disgrace the Hall heaped on her father, and indirectly on us...my family refusing to help...she was angry. She was hurt and angry, and...”
Frank folded his arms across his chest, staring back.
“Angry enough t' switch sides?” Eddington shot him a look that tried to be baleful, but failed and started to crumple.
“Technically she hadn't been inducted yet, so it wouldn't be switching, but...no! No. She wouldn't. Regardless of what the Hall said about the company, it wasn't like those people. Even separately we taught Olivia who the real enemy was out there. As angry as she was, she...Mister Calhoun, she wouldn't.”
Frank continued to watch her, staying quiet for the moment. Eddington sought to fill the silence.
“Yes, it certainly looks like she went willingly—as....as an act of rebellion, of frustration...a little unannounced jaunt to New York! Children run away sometimes...it doesn't mean she's joined the bloody Eye and Pyramid!”
“They lovers, Mrs. Eddington? I hate t' be so blunt, but is this some kinda Romeo and Juliet thing?”
Eddington blinked back at him, then nodded slowly.
“I...yes. They were dating, well, more or less. Long distance relationship and all that. My God, I hope not like Romeo and Juliet...oh, Olivia, what have you done?”
The woman looked on the verge of tears now, and Frank had a brief, profound feeling of guilt for doing this to her. He forced those feelings into a small box in his mind, and shut the door. He had a job to do.
“Ma'am...maybe it's like y'said. Maybe it's more innocent, an' it ain't her joinin' up with th' Blues. If it is...d'ya have anythin' from this guy? Anythin' I could use t' figure out where he's at? If she's in th' Labyrinth, there's not much I can do. If she's somewhere else...”
As it turned out, she did. Olivia had packed almost everything when she had moved to Tower Hamlets, but had forgotten a few things here and there. Sarah Eddington had dutifully packed them up to give to her later, and in the chaos surrounding the collapse of ARTEMIS, had never gotten around to doing that.
One of those forgotten possessions was a letter from this 'nice boy' who had gone to the University of Manchester with Olivia.
The return address was an apartment in Brooklyn.
If this had been anything close to resembling an official operation, Frank would have had more resources at his disposal.
For starters, more people. At least one, maybe two other agents to accompany him to the physical location. Then a surveillance team monitoring Seeker's apartment complex and the surrounding streets. Again, two to three people, likely including a trained magic user specializing in occult reconnaissance. This team would also be monitoring local police radio, just in case. Finally, if it was deemed necessary, a small reaction force staged nearby. Not necessarily men and women in full battle rattle and threatening balaclavas. It could be plainclothes folks at a bus stop, disguised as vagrants, anything.
It wasn't, however, an official operation, and so all Frank had was himself, the address, and the cup of coffee he was currently drinking at the Dunkin Donuts on Fulton Street. Outside, the natives of this part of Brooklyn hurried along on whatever business they had in the early morning. Next door, a farmers market and local carniceria received customers getting some grocery shopping in. Bags of garbage yet to be collected stacked up by the street, next to a small horde of bicycles, all attached in one way or another to a sign that read 'No Parking Anytime.'
As he enjoyed the coffee, Frank felt around in the back of his head for his psychic tag along. Echo, his sister's shade, or magical ward, or whatever it is she was. Neither of them was quite sure.
So you want to know what I think, huh? I'm part of the super spy team!
Frank cracked a lopsided grin and nodded, almost imperceptibly. He'd learned it was better to think directly to the warm little spot in his mind than talk out loud. People already thought he was a little nutty as it was.
Frank, I don't think she was kidnapped. I really don't. I think her mom's right, and she ran away. Everything I know about this ARTEMIS stuff from you and what she said? I'd be really upset, too. Maybe upset enough to run off with this Lumie guy. Especially if I liked him.
Outside, a police cruiser with some of New York's finest inside drove by, and Frank averted his eyes, looking down at the folded newspaper he had in his other hand. Not that he was doing anything illegal...yet...but staring down the cops was probably a bad idea.
Of course, you know what that means.
Frank arched an eyebrow, taking another sip from his cup.
If she did? Frank, she is not going to want to be rescued. Maybe you could find the guys number and just call? Maybe ask one of your Illuminati acquaintances for some help?
To Frank, this was not a good option. The most precious currency in the Secret World was, of course, secrets, but close behind was favors. And he owed too many people favors already, including a few Blues. Hell, this whole job was about working off the favor he owed to Tova Stolt. Echo grumbled to herself, making Frank grin again.
He did agree this wasn't a kidnapping. And if that was the case, he didn't need to 'rescue' anyone. He did, in his opinion, have to try to convince her to come back. The Hall had badly treated her parents, but the Order as a whole was still a better place to be than the shark tank that was the Illuminati.
His own time spent in a Templar cell notwithstanding.
Finishing his coffee, Frank walked out of the Dunkin Donuts, stuffed the empty cup into an overflowing trash can, and started to make his way to Seeker's address.
The set of apartments reminded Frank of a multitude of sitcoms and other television shows set in New York. Flat brick facade, iron fire escapes, uniform.
Again, he expected something more upscale for Blue team. Maybe their junior folks were just as bad off as grunts like him.
Heading inside and upstairs to the indicated floor and room, Frank thought he had a handle on this. Just be polite, just ask to talk. He wasn't here to start a fuss, he wasn't here to cause trouble. He just wanted to make sure Olivia was alright.
He just wanted to talk.
Exhaling slowly as he stood before the door he hoped Olivia and Seeker would be behind, Frank knocked twice.
“Just a second,” came a British accent, male. Seeker, perhaps.
The door opened, and sure enough, it was the sallow faced young man from the CCTV still. He eyed Frank's stetson with a quirked brow. “Can I help you?” The door was just open enough Frank could spot another young man and woman, both in skinny jeans and goofy knit hats, and Olivia. All were seated at a table, having Chinese take-out.
Before Frank could answer, however, Olivia spotted him, her eyes going wide.
“Michael, I recognize him! He's a man who worked for my father! He's one of London's assassins!”
All the youths started reaching for what Frank presumed were weapons, and 'Michael' shoved a hand quickly into his pocket. As Frank willed his anima to life, feeling it rush and roar throughout his body, he could hear Echo's chiding voice.
Told you so.
He had just wanted to talk.
As anima enhanced reflexes took over, time—briefly--slowed down for Frank. He could see Michael—Seeker--pulling a taser from his pocket. At the small table just inside the apartment, the two others that he assumed were also young Illuminati agents were standing up, drawing out a metal telescoping baton and a saw toothed knife. Olivia was turning to run deeper into the apartment.
He could profess his innocent intentions. Ask them to see reason. Shout—quickly and loudly—that he was here to see that Olivia was okay, and to make sure this is what she really wanted.
Likely as they bludgeoned him into unconsciousness or worse. Nope.
At the end of the day, Frank Calhoun wasn't a negotiator, or the type to just 'take it.' He was a cinder block that the Order of the Templars threw through other peoples windows.
Frank sprang into the air and kicked out violently with both booted feet into the partially ajar door. Powerful leg muscles propelled the door back into Michael's face, splintering his nose and causing him to drop the taser in favor of staunching the flow of blood from his face. As he staggered backwards, Frank landed on his side. There was the dim feeling of pain as his ribs collided against the poorly carpeted floor, and then Frank scrabbled to his feet and dove past Michael into the apartment.
Skinny Jeans Guy came at him with the knife, slashing wildly. Moving with all the speed his awakened nature gave him, Frank ducked low under the attempted strike, and jabbed forward. His fist connected with the young man's gut, and Frank heard a satisfying 'ooof!' as the air rushed out of his assailants lungs. Straightening, Frank clasped both hands together and delivered a hammer blow to the side of Skinny Jeans Guy's head, laying him out cold.
There was a much more evident flash of pain as Skinny Jeans Girl brought her baton across Frank's arm. Crossing his arms in front of him, Frank absorbed two more blows before kicking her legs out from under her. Coming up to his feet, Frank then grappled the Blue team agent as she attempted to rise, hurling her bodily into the unfortunate Michael, who was trying to re-enter the fight. The two slammed into each other, knocking heads with an audible thump, and both toppled over. The fight had taken all of five seconds.
Clenching and unclenching the hand of the arm that had been struck first, Frank walked to the next room.
And had a strong sense of deja-vu as Olivia was waiting for him with what looked like a machine pistol.
At this rate, he needed to track down her father and get him to try to stick a gun up his nose too.
“I'll shoot!” she hissed at him through clenched teeth. Sighing heavily, his arm still smarting, Frank put his hands on his hips.
“This is th' second time in as many...okay, Olivia? Y'said y'recognize me. If that's th' case, y'know shootin' me means I'll jus' come back real angry.”
Olivia nodded jerkily.
“Yes...but pain still hurts, even for you. And it'll give me and my friends a chance to escape before you kill--”
“I ain't here to kill nobody.”
Giving him an incredulous look, Olivia bobbed her head back towards the living room.
“You expect me to--”
“Y'all drew first. An' if you check...I didn't kill nobody. I'm here t'talk.”
Blue eyes narrowed, Olivia stepped a little to the side, still keeping the compact automatic weapon aimed at him. With her field of vision unobscured, she could see her friends were still breathing. And groaning, for that matter.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Then slid back into her earlier position looking more than a little confused.
“I...what...”
“Folks reckoned, Olivia...that'd you'd been kidnapped.”
Olivia barked out a surprised laugh.
“No! My God, bloody fucking Templars. I went because I wanted to--”
“Yeah, I kinda figured that out, believe it or not. I came here...I came t' make sure you was a'ight. I came t' see if you really was gonna join th' Blues, an'...an' ask y'to reconsider.”
Olivia stared at him, then slowly lowered the gun. Behind him, Frank could hear someone trying to get to their feet, and Olivia made a gesture past him.
“Oh, just...stay down. He's...not here to kill me. Besides. He'll just thump your arse around again.”
The young woman turned back to Frank, shaking her head.
“Reconsider? I...did my parents send you? They didn't even know...I didn't want them to know...”
“I'm...actually hear because of Tova Stolt. I reckon y'know who that is.”
Olivia made a face as if she had just tasted something foul.
“Oh. Her. Yes, I know who that is. I'm not reconsidering. I'm joining Michael. I'm joining the Illuminati.”
Frank sighed heavily, and brought up his arms to fold them across his chest.
“Hon, are y'sure that's such a great idea? I know yer mad with th' Order right now, an' I don't blame you, believe me, but I wouldn't be so sure th' Blues are th' people you wanna be with.”
Machine pistol down by her side, Olivia scoffed at him.
“Are you serious? Do...do you know how things were for us before the Hall wrecked our lives? We had a driver, when we were together. Our own protection detail. Vacations in Switzerland, trips all over the world! And then...and then ARTEMIS consumed my father.”
The young woman's narrow face grew pinched with bitterness.
“Not only did he have to help protect the Order, he had to protect ARTEMIS from the Order! The...stupid fucking jealousies, the rivalries, the greater demands from the Hall along with idiotic restrictions...the strain got worse, he became more distant. Colder. He had to be. Then mum moved away, and I went with her. Humpfh. Now there was a driver for him and one for us. We still had a good life, if a lonely one...and then the Order disbanded ARTEMIS and took all of it away.”
Frank started to retort, but Olivia rolled right over him.
“I know what you're thinking! I'm a spoiled brat, angry that my toys got taken away. That's not what I'm angriest about! What I'm angriest about is why! They did all that to him, to us, because he was too bloody good at his job! Because ARTEMIS was too effective! They were fucking afraid of its success. Afraid of how high it was rising, and how fast!”
Olivia shook her head from side to side angrily, her free hand clenching tightly into a fist.
“The Templars hate an overachiever, someone who doesn't know their place. That's, that's fucking nonsense! Why the hell would I want to be with an organization that is going to reward me being better than others by punishing me?!”
Naturally, Frank knew better than most that 'overachieving' wasn't the sole reason ARTEMIS had been 'restructured' and folded into Department F. There was much more to it.
But there was enough truth to what Olivia was saying that he had nothing to throw back at her. Olivia kept talking, her voice still iron hard, but quieter now, her eyes tearing up.
“No, sir, Mister Monster Slayer. I no longer want any part of the Templars. I want nothing to do with Temple Fucking Hall. At least with the Illuminati, if I excel, I'll be rewarded.”
Frank watched her quietly, then unfolded his arms, nodding slightly.
“Y'know they won't accord y'any special status coz yer a Templar cabal leaders daughter. I don' think that'll count for anythin'.”
Olivia rubbed a hand across her face, snorting.
“Yes, I know. It's going to be rapids filled with piranhas. The odds will be stacked against me, probably. Against me, against having something with Michael...but you know what? Anything I manage to accomplish, anything I can get on my own? I'm going to bloody keep it. And no one will take it away from me.”
Veteran Templar and soon to be rookie Illuminati stood there, facing each other, one considering his own place and what he had to return to, one, for all her emotional talk, facing a great chasm she was about to leap. At length, Frank extended his hand.
“Well. A'ight then, Olivia Eddington. For what it's worth...I hope you find what yer lookin' for.”
Olivia gazed back at him, clearly startled at the gesture, then slowly but firmly she took his hand and shook it.
“Thank you. If...if you could...please tell my mum...no. Tell both my parents that...that I'm okay. I'm alive. And I know what I'm doing.”
Frank arched an eyebrow, but didn't gainsay her. He let his hand finally drop, and without another word turned on his heel and left the apartment, crossing in front of three injured and rather frightened looking young Illuminati.
Well. That was fair. 'Bees' looked human enough, but when it got down to it, they could move in ways and at speeds no human had a right to. Bees were really frightening things, when you thought about it.
Exiting the apartment, Frank passed by a nervous looking man poking his head out of his own apartment.
“I heard a crash...is everything okay?”
Blinking to himself, Frank looked over his shoulder, then back at the man.
“I reckon things are okay as they can be, mister.”
NOW
“So, that's how it all shook out, ma'am. Olivia Eddington is gonna be a Blue gal. God have mercy on her.”
God have mercy on Temple Hall too, maybe.
Frank let Echo have that one as Stolt sat next to him, processing. She had been surprised at the beginning, but now the tough old Swede didn't look surprised at all.
“Damnation,” she muttered to herself as Frank ended. “Even if she's not a huge loss, it's still a political blow. Another way for that crew in New York to thumb their noses at us.” Stolt's face assumed a sour expression, and she folded her arms across her chest, sighing.
“You really didn't get t' look at all this for very long, didja?”
Stolt shot him a dangerous look, but Frank pressed on.
“Yer a sharp lady, ma'am. I can't believe you wouldn' have figured all this out if you'd actually had a chance t' process all this on yer own.”
She held that gaze for a few more seconds, then harrumphed, nodding her head.
“Subordinates, in the main, Agent Calhoun. I'm a director now, I don't have the luxury of reviewing case information in depth any more. Heh. Luxury. I wouldn't have called it that before, but now that's how I see it. Now I have to fight political battles and discuss budgets and meet with Hall oversight and...Agent Calhoun, the old director was a politician. I'm not. But what is, is.”
She exhaled slowly, folding her hands in her lap.
“If I'd been the one working this...well. Perhaps I should take a close look at some of the people under me.”
Frank shrugged expressively. Department F and its problems weren't his problems, as far as he was concerned. Time to make sure that was stance was now official.
“So. We're square now?”
Stolt arched an eyebrow and waited just long enough to make Frank uncomfortable before answering.
“Yes, Agent Calhoun. We're 'square' now. You won't be hearing from us any more. Unless, of course, you'd like a job...?” For a split second, Frank almost thought he saw a mischievous glint in those iron colored eyes.
Frank threw back his head and laughed out loud.
“Lady, don't take this th' wrong way...but hell no.”
