Carter's Recourse - 40. Chapter 40

Will opened his eyes, breathing heavily as he tried to move his injured arm; despite the pain he felt the fingers move. That was a good start, he surmised, even if it did hurt like hell--at least he could still move it.

He rolled a bit to sit upright in the bunk, nearly jumping as he rolled up against warm skin, and through the gloom he peered down, recognizing West asleep beside him. There wasn't much room in the camper, and he could hear his grandfather snoring somewhere up in the front separated from them by a curtain.

West stirred and in the dim orange light from the street lamp outside Will saw the eyes looking up at him. "Hey," West murmured.

Will smiled. "I'm alive then?" he asked with a chuckle, slightly embarrassed that he had passed out after they had cauterised his wound.

"That's surprising considering the amount you screamed," West joked lightly. They were whispering, trying not to wake the old man, listening to the sounds of kids arguing out in the park, dogs barking occasionally in the background.

"I'm a wuss..." Will confessed, laying back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

"Give yourself some credit." West rolled up to his elbow and looked down into Will's face. "I've seen veteran soldiers, hard as nails, cry like babies when they got shot. You ignored the pain and kept going."

"Considering I had no idea what the hell was going on," Will shrugged, "running away seemed the most prudent course..."

"You know," West said as Will felt him shift around on the narrow bunk, "I never figured you as being from a place like this..."

"There's nothing wrong with a place like this," Will replied quietly. "Ernie's my mother's dad; when I was growing up I was over here every chance I could get. He used to keep these giant tubs of sweets he ... acquired... and I had this killer sweet tooth."

"Bribery, huh?" West asked smiling. "You really are a politician."

Will chuckled, "My gran didn't like me hanging around down here--bad neighbourhood--and I think part of her still believed in the old wives' tale about gypsies stealing children."

"Where's your mother?" West asked out of the blue.

Will shrugged. "We don't know. She's out there somewhere, always travelling. She never was one to settle down in one place for too long. Drove my father mental, I think, he's so..."

"Ordered," West nodded. "Odd couple."

"I was an odd kid," Will confessed. He reached out a hand to cup West's bare shoulder, "Thanks..."

"Hey," West shrugged, "wouldn't be the first time I spent a night with a Carter bleeding on me."

There was a silence after that was said, both men realizing the imposing gravity of what that meant. Will looked away, his brow furrowing, knowing that he had to say something to break the silence, before they both got lost in their bitter memories.

"I'm not going anywhere, Soldier," Will said firmly.

"You sound like the Colonel," West said quietly.

"And you sound like Andrew," Will countered laying back onto the bunk and rubbing his good hand over his face. "Fuck..."

"You're going to be okay." Now it was West who felt he needed to reassure Will, his hand resting on Will's chest. There was something intrinsic about the sense of touch, it made things seem real, heartening.

"I know," Will said patting the hand. "So... why don't you tell me what's going on?" he asked, turning to look at the shadowy face of the young man beside him.

West nodded, and began to tell Will what he needed to know.

* * *

Templeman turned the file over in his hands, glancing back across the town centre to where the MI-6 agents were questioning people. It was late at night, and luckily the weather had held it warm, meaning they didn't have to seek shelter from the regular summer rains.

Sir Nigel was off talking into his phone, standing at the far end of the town centre under a large oak tree, unaware of Templeman's presence beside his car. As far as he was concerned MI-5 was playing along, which was good as far as Templeman was concerned, let him believe what he wanted.

He flipped through the file he'd liberated from the car: William Carter, Canadian Minister Without Portfolio. Newly appointed. Father a Colonel David John Carter, Queens own 32nd. It read like any other dossier, incomplete and full of holes. There really was nothing of help in there, and Templeman made to close the file, his eyes glancing over the mother's name--Collins NFA... no fixed address. He chewed his lip on that one as he quickly returned the file to the car...

"Hey."

Templeman stiffened at the voice behind him. He hadn't heard the guy come up behind him. He straightened up, closing the car door slowly, full expecting to be arrested, as he turned to face one of Minister Carter's aides.

Templeman sighed with relief.

"Hey," the man repeated--Brody or something, if Templeman remembered from the initial report. "Has there been any word?" He thumbed behind him, "It's just that Mrs. Carter's a little too old to be spending a night sleeping on a park bench because you guys can't get your acts together."

Templeman nodded. "I'm not in charge here," he confessed, "but I don't see a problem with you taking her home. I can have a couple of my people go with you."

Brody nodded. "What about him?" he asked looking over towards Sir Nigel, the man appearing ever more like a wolf as he stalked to and fro under the oak tree yelling into his phone.

"I'll take you," Templeman said, walking back with Brody to the small bench under the floodlights that had been set up for the investigators to comb the scene.

"Mister Templeman's going to take us back to the house," Brody said as they walked up to the old woman Lisa was comforting.

Lucy was wearing Brody's jacket over top of her thin summer dress to help keep her warm, and Templeman realized how inconsiderate Sir Nigel and his men were for keeping Carter's family like that.

Templeman nodded, glancing to make sure Sir Nigel was still busy with his phone, as he offered a hand to help Mrs. Carter up. "If we go now," he said, "I can deal with anyone that protests." He motioned towards where his car was sitting, parked just a short distance from the temporary roadblock and the gaggle of journalists hoping for an angle on what was going on.

They clamoured for attention as Templeman held the door to the car open for the family to get in. He pointedly ignored the vultures as he climbed into the driver's seat, flashing his ID to the police officers holding the reporters back, pulling the large sedan out onto the street, accelerating away and smiling at Sir Nigel who had noticed what he was up to and yelling for him to stop.

Templeman smiled and offered a cheery wave as he drove Carter's family back home.

"He's an ass," Brody remarked from the passenger seat as they swept down George Street heading back towards the house.

"You'll get no argument from me there," Templeman agreed. "Look, I want to reassure you that we're doing everything we can to find the Minister."

"Yeah?" Brody commented. "Just like you were doing everything to assure his safety?"

"Brody!" Lisa admonished from the back seat. "Now's not the time..."

"No?" Brody asked turning back to look at her, anger etched on his normally stoic face. "Excuse me for having no faith in..."

He stopped at an insistent look from Lisa as she glanced in concern at the old woman who was fighting tears, and the young girl who was trying to comfort her grandmother. Realizing Lisa, as usual, had a point.

Templeman glanced back as he swung the car into the driveway of the old Tudor farm house, getting out to hold the door open for the women. Meeting Brody's eyes and waiting a moment before following them inside.

Brody turned at the door, "What?"

"You're right," Templeman said calmly. "We should have done more to guarantee the Minister's safety. I should have done more."

"So what are you going to do about it now?" Brody asked, folding his arms.

"I need to know where Carter would go here, who he could turn to if he is hurt." Templeman gestured inside the house.

Brody nodded and followed as they walked back into the kitchen, Lisa already busying herself with tea, fiddling with the pot trying to remember all the bizarre lessons Will had tried to teach her about preparing a decent pot of tea.

Brody stopped her, taking over and running through Carter's tea ritual by rote, nodding to the dining room where Will's grandmother was sitting. "Your best bet," he said quietly. "Just go easy," he requested.

Templeman nodded as he walked into the room and kneeled down beside the old woman sitting in her chair looking lost as she started up at the mantel. Templeman's glance told him she was staring at family pictures. One in particular of a young boy with his daddy--the Minister and the Colonel--and Templeman suddenly felt a wave of empathy for all the loss that woman had seen in her life, all the Carter men...

"Mrs. Carter," he said, quietly softening his own eyes, "I need your help to find your grandson." He reached out to cup her hand with his own, "I need to know where he would go..."

"I... I don't know," Mrs. Carter managed, the hurt and loss resounding in her reedy voice.

"Anyone you can think of," Templeman insisted. "Old friends, family maybe in the area?"

Mrs. Carter shook her head. "He has a cousin in Polegate..." she paused thinking, "and there's old Ernie..."

"Ernie?" Templeman pressed. "Mrs. Carter, it's very important that I find your grandson first--who's Ernie?"

"His grandfather..." Mrs Carter responded. "He lives on the Industrial estate..."

Templeman nodded. "Ernie Collins?" Templeman hazarded a guess it was Will's maternal grandfather.

Mrs. Carter nodded, as Templeman rose and returned to the kitchen, heading for the door. He blinked in surprise as Brody moved to block it. He looked up at the lean Frenchman in slight confusion, his hand resting on the door handle.

"What did you mean, 'you have to find him first'?" Brody demanded, a tone like cold steel in his voice.

Templeman shook his head. "Just that he's in danger, and if he is out there alone then I..."

"Don't play a player," Brody said sharply. "What's going on?"

Templeman heaved a deep sigh. "Honestly, I don't know. All I know is that Minister Carter is a lot more important than he seems, and I'd rather be the one to get to him first and help him than someone else who won't."

Lisa pressed something into Brody's hand, and he held it up, nodding as he slipped Will's passport into his pocket, nodding to Templeman. "Where you go, I go." He said it in such a way that indicated he wasn't going to budge on the issue, and frankly Templeman didn't have the time to argue.

"Fine," Templeman nodded as they set out to track down Ernie Collins.

* * *

The door rattled as it was pounded on, and Will stiffened, West scrambling to reach for the biscuit tin, fumbling the Browning out and cocking the weapon with an audible click, putting himself bodily between Will and the door.

Ernie, grumbled as he staggered to the door, complaining loudly about the kids disturbing his sleep as he threw open the door on the two strangers.

Templeman looked straight down the barrel of the Browning hi-power service automatic, past it to the hard-eyed army captain in his underwear levelling it at him with a deadly purpose over the shoulder of the old man.

He did the only thing he could do, he put his hands up.

"Captain Harding," Templeman greeted jovially, setting his hands atop his head. "Is the Minister with you?"

"Put the gun down," Will commanded from the back of the caravan, sitting up and shrugging on his blood-stained shirt, still damp after being balled on the floor.

West glanced back uncertainly, lowering the pistol as he stepped aside, recognizing Brody as he looked around the doorway.

"Nice shorts," Brody commented, climbing aboard the already cramped Caravan and picking a spot to sit down, eyeing Will in concern.

"How did you...?" Will asked looking pointedly at Brody.

"Gran," Brody replied simply.

"And this?" Will asked, slipping his feet into his shoes and wincing in pain as his arm moved.

"Greg Templeman, MI-5..." Templeman began, as West's pistol swung up again and pressed against the back of his head.

"He's trying to help..." Brody began.

"He's not," Will completed. "I'm quite aware of the British Government's attempt to stop me from voting tomorrow."

"Voting on what?" Templeman asked, trying his best to ignore the loaded weapon digging into the base of his skull.

Will ignored him and looked to Brody. "Apparently they were attempting to influence my vote using West there... Failing that I can only presume they decided to have me shot."

"They missed deliberately," Templeman corrected. "A high-powered rifle at that range in the hands of a professional," he shook his head, "I'm afraid no one is that lucky, meaning the shot was meant to wing you."

"And I suppose you had nothing to do with it?" West demanded. "Even though you've been following me since Yorkshire..."

"Actually, I lost you," Templeman said turning slightly, his hands still raised. "I only found you when you decided to show up at the ceremony, you're quite skilled at disappearing..."

"You're evading the question," Will pointed out, closing his eyes again at the wash of pain from his arm.

"No, I'm not a part of this," Templeman replied. "But I know who is, and if I can find this place, then chances are its only a matter of time until MI-6 put two and two together and sweep down on this campground.

"You have a car?" Will asked struggling to his feet and swaying slightly.

"And go where?" Templeman asked. "You're covered in blood and the good captain here isn't exactly dressed for polite company. If you try for an airport you're going to be picked up..."

Will glanced at Brody, who nodded in agreement. "The Embassy, then?" Will asked uncertainly.

"And then what?" Brody replied. "Chances are the goon squad's camped out there, too, and even if you do make it, how are you going to get back in time for the vote..."

"You need my help," Templeman insisted quietly. "Look, Sir Nigel isn't acting in the best interests of the English people... and if he is behind shooting you then it's my duty to do what I can to help you."

Will stroked his chin carefully, weighing his options that were sparse to begin with. Templeman was right--he needed his help. But that meant trusting him, and for all he knew that could wind up with him just as trapped.

"All right," Will said sitting back down. "Do you have a plan?"

Templeman heaved a long sigh. "Nope, I didn't plan much past this point," he admitted truthfully.

"Great," Will said looking over at Ernie. "He's right, though, we're going to need some clothes..."

Ernie nodded, eying both young men up and down getting an idea of their sizes. "Sam runs a market stall, he probably has some knock-offs you can buy."

Will smiled and fished out his wallet, pulling out some money and handing it across. "Whatever that will get us."

"And a hat," Templeman said with a nod to Will. "He's got to blend in, and with a face like that..."

"Gee thanks." Will rolled his eyes with a tired smile shifting around sifting through what he had on him for anything that he might use as an asset. West nervously kept an eye out through the window, as if expecting trouble at any moment.

"So this is what it's like to be on the run," Will murmured scratching his head. "It's like I just up and got dropped in the middle of some Third World war zone."

"Could be worse," Brody replied, opening the teapot and taking a sniff and screwing up his nose in distaste.

"And exactly how could this be worse?" Will said, peeling off the bloodstained shirt again and trying to clean himself off. He looked a sight--pale and hollow eyes, dried blood all over him, and his arm wrapped in a makeshift bandage.