An Explosive Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) by Julia Hughes Page B
Authors: Julia Hughes
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non-committal grunt and managed to make 'Thank you' sound like "I should bloody well think so." before disconnecting and heading out of the car park. Once past the security cameras, he allowed himself a grin to rival Alfie's smile. He'd no intention of bothering Scotland Yard. He snorted to himself at the thought of Thames Valley's ineptitude. Three days of trying and failing miserably to hack into the laptop. Crombie would lay odds it would take Wren Prenderson less than three hours.
Still thinking of Wren as he drove away from Whitehall past the turrets of St Stephen’s palace, unheeding of the slinky limos and black cabs giving the tanklike Passat a wide berth, Crombie allowed his mind to wander back five years, to the caves at Tintagal. Some scenes were more vividly etched on his mind than others, like the moment solid rock had rolled back on giant hinges to reveal a hidden chamber. He remembered too well the shock and outrage when a fellow police officer shot at him, thankfully the memory of pain searing through his shoulder receded with time, though he still had trouble raising his left arm above his head, especially first thing in the morning.
After he’d been shot, things got a bit blurry. He seemed to recall Wren’s voice going on and on, the kid sounded panic stricken as he pleaded with Superintendent Bates for Crombie’s life, when really he’d been buying time for his cousin, Rhyllann to circle around the rouge cop armed with an old crusader’s sword. Blue lightning always flashed through Crombie’s memory at this point. The next thing he recalled was being slumped over the wheel of a jeep, pleading to be helped with the drive to a hospital. His memory faded out as Rhyllann clambered into the driver’s seat, pushing Crombie aside. He remembered Rhyllann cuffing at his eyes and refusing to listen when Crombie urged him to wait for Wren.
Looking back, Crombie always felt a sense of guilt. Crombie had seen through the kid’s lies, but underestimated Wren’s cunning. Although come to think of it, he had always been completely upfront about his quest, even showing Crombie the last piece of the puzzle.
‘I won’t be fooled again.’ Crombie said out loud, and reminded of the new music system installed in the Passat he searched through the programmes until he found a station playing old seventies music, smiling as the raw vocal chords of Roger Daltery reaffirmed his statement.
He had almost been caught out again, when Rhyllann’s Mum managed to get herself kidnapped by African mercenaries. This time with a continent between him and his responsibilities, Crombie had gambled all and taken charge of the rescue, even while he told himself he only acted to keep the two reprobates out of trouble. He skipped over the might have beens with the pang he still endured whenever he thought of her, preferring instead to bask in the relationship that developed between him and Rhyllann, though he stopped short of explaining his unwanted and unplanned role in standing as his godfather just because the local church school appeared a better choice than the local primary.
From time to time Wren hinted that Crombie’s share of the lost treasure still had his name on it, though Crombie pretended not to hear, he never hesitated to take advantage of the cousins’ home on the Welsh coast. Strangely, only last year Carrie had been invited along on their family holiday, and thus met Wren for the first time. Apparently he’d injured his arm somehow, probably on that rusty old crusader sword, though he just smiled and changed the subject when Crombie questioned him. It had been a shock for him and the girls to arrive in Wales to find Carrie and Wren already firmly wrapped up in each other, almost as though they had been waiting to meet.
Crombie glowered at Carrie but she saw right through him, knowing him as well as his own daughters, having been friends with Lizzie since primary school. And it was rather sweet
Still thinking of Wren as he drove away from Whitehall past the turrets of St Stephen’s palace, unheeding of the slinky limos and black cabs giving the tanklike Passat a wide berth, Crombie allowed his mind to wander back five years, to the caves at Tintagal. Some scenes were more vividly etched on his mind than others, like the moment solid rock had rolled back on giant hinges to reveal a hidden chamber. He remembered too well the shock and outrage when a fellow police officer shot at him, thankfully the memory of pain searing through his shoulder receded with time, though he still had trouble raising his left arm above his head, especially first thing in the morning.
After he’d been shot, things got a bit blurry. He seemed to recall Wren’s voice going on and on, the kid sounded panic stricken as he pleaded with Superintendent Bates for Crombie’s life, when really he’d been buying time for his cousin, Rhyllann to circle around the rouge cop armed with an old crusader’s sword. Blue lightning always flashed through Crombie’s memory at this point. The next thing he recalled was being slumped over the wheel of a jeep, pleading to be helped with the drive to a hospital. His memory faded out as Rhyllann clambered into the driver’s seat, pushing Crombie aside. He remembered Rhyllann cuffing at his eyes and refusing to listen when Crombie urged him to wait for Wren.
Looking back, Crombie always felt a sense of guilt. Crombie had seen through the kid’s lies, but underestimated Wren’s cunning. Although come to think of it, he had always been completely upfront about his quest, even showing Crombie the last piece of the puzzle.
‘I won’t be fooled again.’ Crombie said out loud, and reminded of the new music system installed in the Passat he searched through the programmes until he found a station playing old seventies music, smiling as the raw vocal chords of Roger Daltery reaffirmed his statement.
He had almost been caught out again, when Rhyllann’s Mum managed to get herself kidnapped by African mercenaries. This time with a continent between him and his responsibilities, Crombie had gambled all and taken charge of the rescue, even while he told himself he only acted to keep the two reprobates out of trouble. He skipped over the might have beens with the pang he still endured whenever he thought of her, preferring instead to bask in the relationship that developed between him and Rhyllann, though he stopped short of explaining his unwanted and unplanned role in standing as his godfather just because the local church school appeared a better choice than the local primary.
From time to time Wren hinted that Crombie’s share of the lost treasure still had his name on it, though Crombie pretended not to hear, he never hesitated to take advantage of the cousins’ home on the Welsh coast. Strangely, only last year Carrie had been invited along on their family holiday, and thus met Wren for the first time. Apparently he’d injured his arm somehow, probably on that rusty old crusader sword, though he just smiled and changed the subject when Crombie questioned him. It had been a shock for him and the girls to arrive in Wales to find Carrie and Wren already firmly wrapped up in each other, almost as though they had been waiting to meet.
Crombie glowered at Carrie but she saw right through him, knowing him as well as his own daughters, having been friends with Lizzie since primary school. And it was rather sweet
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