The perfects, p.1
The Perfects, page 1
The Perfects
First published in 2016 in Great Britain.
Copyright©theperfectswendyreakes2018
The moral right of Wendy Reakes to be identified as
the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with
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ISBN: 9781730719202
Imprint: Independently published
WendyReakes.com
For Jake
Chapter 1
London 2021
Keri Rains sat in the back seat of the black, Audi, as it cruised down the Mall towards Buckingham Palace. The crowds lining the route next to St. James Park on her left-hand side were stepping off the pavement onto the road, attempting to catch a glimpse of the Prime Minister sitting to her right. They were out of luck; the blacked-out windows offered no visibility to the interior, as the burning sun reflected starkly, back into their prying eyes. Keri watched a man whip off his white t-shirt and wave it around his head. She couldn’t decide if was his intention to demonstrate support for the woman sitting at Keri’s side, or if it was illustrating a white flag, admitting defeat. Yeah, it was surrender, Keri decided.
She licked the inside of her mouth. She was hot, despite the air-con, and she was thirsty. She tugged her pale blue linen skirt over her knees. Her tanned bare legs were well maintained, hairless and glossy with navy blue sling-back heels on her elegant feet. She caught her reflection in the car window. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a tight knot on the back of her head, making her face appear harsh. When she wasn’t working, she wore it loose about her shoulders, making her features look softer; not beautiful, but not unattractive either. She had the sort of face that made people feel comfortable. It had helped her gain many jobs in the past. People trusted her.
The car slowed, almost stopping, as some of the revellers pushed in front and banged on the hood. They were being ushered away by the PM’s escorts, made up of police, army and MI5. They had expected riots, but surprisingly, and despite the people’s aggression towards the emerging dystopian culture in the UK, the Prime Minister’s traditional audience with the queen had remained relatively peaceful.
To Keri’s right, the PM was silent as she too gazed out of the window to the buildings lining the route of the Mall on the other side of the road. In the past, the once white historic structures, had been properly maintained as part of London’s heritage, but there was no pride in that sort of thing any more. Ever since the water shortage of 2019, over time, the buildings had turned black with dirt and dust and pigeon droppings. The glass in the elegant Georgian windows were weathered, but no one noticed them. It was hard to see past the iron grills, which had been placed over them years ago to protect the people inside the building; the government officials who still claimed they wanted to put the country back where it was before Brexit.
“Thanks for coming with me today, Keri,” Alice Burton said. She had a deep voice with no accent to speak of until she forgot herself and her natural Welsh tongue crept in. Keri saw her finger twitch. Upon it, a thick gold band served as a reminder of her widowed status and that she was very much alone. “I really need your support at the moment.”
“It’s fine, Prime Minister. You know I’ll do everything I can to help.”
Alice placed her small hand over Keri’s. “You don’t have to call me that. It’s not like I insist on being addressed by my title. I’ve told you a thousand times to relax. Besides, we’ve been friends for a long time.”
Keri slipped her hand out, feigning the need to scratch her head. She gave Alice a reassuring smile. That was feigned too. “It’s protocol.”
“Ah, yes. Always the professional.” Alice brushed a minute fleck of lint off her black British made skirt. She was known to be as a lover of Chanel, but no one could get French made designs anymore. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from you.”
“It’s my job, Prime Minster.”
“Oh, for goodness sake,” she snapped.
Keri didn’t want to displease her. Not today. “Very well…Alice.”
Alice Burton looked happy that she had once again talked Keri into doing something she was uncomfortable with. That had always been a habit of hers. Alice had referred to them as friends, but it hadn’t always been a mutually trusting relationship. Alice treated Keri as if she worked directly for her, even though Keri’s job was to represent everyone in the house, not just the leader of the country. Alice had been in office for the past four-years and frankly, no one could believe how she’d been re-elected to the highest ranking position in the British government. Her past reign had her dubbed ‘the people’s prime minister’ for her efforts in humanities. She had called out the previous leaders, cursing Brexit. The people had loved her for it, especially when that one move had divided nations across Europe. Now, she wasn’t so popular. She still hadn’t manged to get the country out of the mess it was in.
The Prime Minister had appointed Keri as her chief protocol officer two years ago. It was after some unfortunate business to do with an underground scheme, when Alice failed to deliver her promise of increased housing for the poor in London. The project, which to this day still remained top secret, was the least popular event of Alice Burton’s four-year reign and no one was more surprised than her own party when she was re-elected for a second term. Some said the polls had been fixed. But that couldn’t happen…surely.
Two years ago, Alice Burton had cunningly convinced her cabinet that Keri’s role needed to be a full time job. When they opposed the appointment, she’d argued that the post was essential in increasing the likeability factor with the British people. Soon after, Keri’s protocol title had faded into obscurity, since Alice became more and more dependent on Keri as a personal spin doctor, companion and general dogsbody.
“Did you see the headlines this morning?” Alice murmured. “That poor girl, Sarah, getting abducted from her parent’s home in Taunton.”
Oh, God. Keri thought, rubbing her arm as goose bumps appeared over her skin.
“I can’t imagine how her mother must be feeling right now.” Alice patted Keri’s leg. “Only you can know what that’s like, to live every day knowing your child is somewhere; not knowing if she’s dead or alive or who she’s with. It must have brought it all back for you.”
Keri turned her face away. Stop talking. Stop talking before I scream… “Hmm.” What else could she say?
“How long has it been now?”
“Three years.” She was going to be sick.
“Don’t lose hope. There is always hope.” Alice turned back to the window as the car approached the gates of the palace. “I was hoping the election was going to be the news of the hour in the tabloids. Looks like the girl Sarah has taken pride of place on that one.” The PM sighed and reached up a hand to stroke the back of her neck. She placed the tip of her finger inside a curl of her short blonde hair and then released it again.
Keri grimaced in silence. Don’t lose hope!! Alice Burton’s last condescending statement before her audience with the Queen.
Keri had never given up hope. Yes, she’d had her moments when the pressure and the depression had driven her to a place of darkness and despair, but ninety-nine-percent of the time, she had always felt that Elizabeth was still alive, somewhere. She liked to think of her girl as being in a place where she was safe and cared for, until the day when Keri would find her and bring her home. That thought was the one thing that had kept her going since she was taken three years before. To the day! The significance of that was something Alice had overlooked, but Keri wasn’t surprised, not when all Alice Burton worried about was Alice Burton.
There had been a ransom. It was five-hundred-thousand-pounds, but it may as well have been five-million. She and Harry could never have raised that amount of money. They’d overstretched themselves when they moved to London three-years before, and after she’d secured her governmental job as Chief Protocol Officer, they’d assumed they could afford to gamble on a decent town house. When the ransom was demanded and with the housing market being what it was, they didn’t have enough equity to raise the cash.
The abductors took her daughter from the resident’s private garden at the front of their house in Holland Park. Elizabeth had assured Keri she was meeting her friends and that they were with their mothers. Keri blamed herself afterwards. She should never have allowed her to go, or at least she should have checked. After she was taken, the police told them they had been easy targets, ‘What with an expensive property in London and a top job in the government and all.’ Yes, Keri blamed herself. It was what made her tick.
The gates to the palace were already open, protected by the queen’s armed guards, their weapons loaded, aimed and ready to kill anyone who made a false move. The car glided into the grounds as the Prime Minister brushed an imaginary speck off her lapel. She needn’t have worried. She looked immaculate as always. Alice pulled an antique gold bejewelled compact from her bag and flipped it open. She used the powder pad to dab her nose.
The car neared the covered entrance where liveried staff stood to attention. “Here we go, Keri.”
“Good luck, Prime Minister. I’m sure Her Majesty will be happy
The car stopped, and an aide opened the door. Alice closed the powder compact with a loud click and dropped it back into her bag. “I hope so, dear,” she answered before she stepped out. “I do hope so.”
Chapter 2
New York
Private investigator Jay Pullman crouched in the shadows of a group of ancient trees. Central park wasn’t a great place to be that time of night, but there had been talk of a sighting and he had a client who wanted a report. The guy was rich, so he could afford to pay someone else to have a spiritually enlightening encounter on his behalf. Yeah, he was rich enough not to suffer too much inconvenience, not for anything.
Leaning on the toes of his faithful black sneakers, Jay had been sitting in the same position for over two hours and now his ankles were seizing up. He’d made himself sit that way since the discomfort served to keep him awake and alert for as long as necessary. Now he needed to move or remain rooted to the spot forever. He shifted his body as a three-foot diameter tree supported his back.
When a scream like a wailing banshee echoed around the park, he gasped and leaned into the shadows to hide his face from the moonlight. A full moon shone in the clear sky that night, but it wasn’t just full, it was blue and it would have been enchanting if he’d been sitting there with Fran on a romantic night out. He wondered where she was right then. With some other guy? Maybe dinner, a movie then bed?
He curled his lip into a snarl to remind himself where he was. Now wasn’t the time to think about her. Besides, there won’t be any movie. All the New York theatres were closed down now. Nobody did entertainment anymore. The disused buildings, like many others along Broadway and the New York City streets, were now closed, taken over by the homeless and needy and the true victims of Trump’s welfare reform. Instead of putting money in their pockets, they were provided with free shelter with electricity and running water, albeit rationed. The scheme had been approved by the previous administration; post Trump. The initiative was to provide shelter in disused buildings to get people off the streets. The scheme had included tip-top security, when the police and the army could no longer enforce laws inside the buildings.
The scheme had holes, discovered years ago when the legal squatters began discussing revolution, banding together like an un-virtual internet using real people. As for the Internet; most of the servers had been shut down. The only one left was run by the government, and people avoided it at all cost. No Facebook, no Twitter, no Ebay. Only Amazon had survived after they had eventually monopolised the retail industry. The US government owned that too; the biggest department store on the planet, sold to them in 1919 for one point five billion dollars.
Jay saw a man step into the clearing beyond the trees. He used a cheap disposable lighter to ignite a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His tired face glowed when he pulled a long hard drag before he dug his hands into his pockets and sauntered off along a path with apparently no purpose in his stride.
Jay relaxed. There was nothing else to see.
He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. Even in the shade, the city was unbearably hot, as it was every year now from February until November. For the past four years, they’d had the shortest winters on record. Many were pleased with the warmer weather until they counted the cost. The ice caps were melting fast now, portending a new water world by twenty-forty. Maybe even before that, Jay reckoned.
He rubbed his hands over his eyes. He was tired of his shitty job. Why couldn’t he have been a pilot or something? At least then he could get a free ride out of that crummy place.
Jay had set himself up as a private investigator years ago, long before Trump’s presidency. It had started with a favour for a friend, Brad Parante. Brad had asked him to shadow his wife, whom he suspected was cheating on him. It turned out she was, but not in the way Brad thought. Gambling was her love. She did it daily, whenever and wherever she could; casinos, slot machines, bingo, card drives, you name it, she did it, but she did it alone, with no other man, unless he counted the Jack! Jay had reported back to Brad that his wife was not cheating in the normal sense of the word, but he may want to take a long hard look at his checking account.
Brad divorced his gambling obsessed wife after a long and lengthy court battle. It was complicated because she hit it big on the lottery just before the papers were signed and Brad demanded eighty-five percent. Jay never made a penny from the job and later vowed that in the future he’d never again be suckered in to do any more favours. Not for free! The lottery! Everyone thought they could strike it rich to get away from the failing economy. Maybe build a floating island somewhere, ready for the future. Well, they could all wish, he guessed, because not many people prayed any more, that was for sure.
A voice out of the blue caught him unawares. “Hey, what’re you doin’?” Jay toppled sideways, reaching out his hand to save himself from falling. When he maintained his balance, he looked up to see a teenager standing next to the tree. “Whoa!” He grabbed the edge of the kid’s polo shirt and pulled him down to the floor. Jay kept hold of him while he took a quick glance at the clearing. Nothing there. Everything good. He turned back to see the kid’s face almost right next to his. He pushed him away. “What’re you doin’? Wanna scare me to death?”
Jay guessed he was about fifteen, sixteen, but those days he could hardly tell. He was tall, although right then he was scrambling around on the floor trying to get comfortable. He settled on his haunches next to Jay. “Why are we whispering?” he asked, peering out between the trees towards the clearing.
Jay shook his head. The situation was almost laughable if it hadn’t been for the fact he was seriously pissed. “We’re not doing anything. You’re gonna scat. Do it now before I call a cop!”
The kid remained firm. “Not until you tell me what you’re doing.”
It didn’t take a lot of insight to see the kid wasn’t someone you told what to do and he’d do it. “You’re kidding, right?” Jay spat. “Listen, any minute now you’re going to blow my cover.” He glanced once more at the clearing. All quiet.
The kid offered an irritating chuckle. “Blow your cover! Who do you think you are, Eliot Ness?” He began humming the tune to an old movie, The Untouchables, while he strained his neck to see around the trees. He had a mop of black hair and green eyes. Jay would swear he was a girl, if it hadn’t been for his deep voice. Clearly his balls had dropped. “Clear off, son.”
He didn’t budge. He only grinned with perfect white teeth, challenging Jay to tell all.
Jay had already established the kid was an idiot, but he knew he needed to calm down and put the whole matter to bed. He would explain the seriousness of his position and the kid would surely realize he needed to give up and go home. “Okay, okay. I'm on a stake out, all right? Can you leave now?”
“Cool.”
“Get lost, will ya?” Jay was at the end of this tether. Maybe he should call a cop. Have the kid thrown into jail until he was thirty-five!
“What’s the stake out?” Nothing affected his blatant attitude. He was a spoilt jerk! “Come on, you can trust me,” he said with a smirk on his face.
Jay inwardly sighed. “I'm a private investigator. I'm on a case.”
“Cool.”
“Shush. Keep your voice down. Some big-shot wants to know if the stories are true.”
The kid frowned. “You mean the Perfects? Of course, they’re true,” he guffawed.
“Whatever!” Jay spat. “It’s all garbage anyhow. No such thing as celestial beings. Not in New York City.”
“You’re wrong there, man,” the kid said.
Jay wanted to laugh at the seriousness of his expression. “What do you know about it?”
“Are you kidding? My girlfriend and me…we chase sightings.”
“With nothing else to do right?” Jay smiled at the kid’s optimism. Something Jay had lost a long time ago. “So, you’ve seen them have you, the Perfects?”
