FOUR

I was alone and free to leave. Now I just had to go. I put my beret back on, turned the door handle gently and was relieved when the door opened, and then even more relieved to see an empty corridor stretching out in front of me and neither of the twins waiting for me. I had the feeling they weren’t too pleased with me, and I didn’t want to give them another chance to have me do anything the hard way. If they’d had time to search my bag, I wouldn’t be walking anywhere; instead of them being in trouble, it would have been me.

I looked up and down the corridor. In one direction—the way I’d been frog-marched—was a door that said DO NOT ENTER in bold letters. I decided to go through the unmarked door at the other end. It was unlocked, and I slowly pushed it open and peered out. There were passengers, luggage in tow, flowing in one direction toward an exit. An exit was what I needed. I threw my bag over my shoulder and joined the horde of passengers exiting the terminal. I had the sensation of being part of a herd where I could hide from anybody who might want to pull me into a private room.

The big double doors slid open to reveal a semicircle of people waiting and watching for the passenger that belonged to them. I scanned the crowd for Doris. I didn’t see her. There were so many people. A number of them held up signs with names; obviously, whoever they were meeting was a stranger to them. I caught sight of a crudely made sign that read McLean. It certainly wasn’t Doris holding it; the guy wasn’t much older than me. He was dressed in sort of a retro-style suit and had a fedora on his head. It was strange that my name, which wasn’t common, had come up twice since I’d landed.

I walked the length of the crowd, looking for Doris, without any luck. The two scary agents had obviously talked to her, so she must know that I’d landed, and I knew she was in the terminal somewhere. But she didn’t seem to be here now. Had she gone to the washroom or a restaurant, or had she gotten tired and found somewhere to sit down? No, Doris had climbed Kilimanjaro, so waiting at an airport for an hour wasn’t going to tire her out. It was almost embarrassing to think about the climb and realize that I wouldn’t have made it to the top without her.

I walked back along the line. I must have missed her. I went up to the guy holding the sign with my name on it. “That’s my name,” I said casually.

“If you are DJ, it is wonderful that you recognized it.” He spoke with a very upper-class British accent.

“I am, but you’re not Doris.”

“My grandmother said you were very bright, so I’m not surprised in the least that you can tell that I am not she.”

Did he just take a shot at me? Best to ignore it. “Doris is your grandmother?”

“Again, a fine demonstration of your powers of observation. You would impress Sherlock Holmes himself with such deductive reasoning.”

Before I could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away. I pushed and dodged through the crowd and caught up to him as he exited the terminal. It was cool and raining outside, although we were sheltered under a roof.

“I was expecting Doris, is all,” I explained.

“I was expecting to be out with my friends, so some things don’t work out as we desire. And to top it off, you were terribly tardy.”

“Sorry, but it wasn’t like it was my idea to be detained for questioning.”

“I imagine your delay is related to those two men who came and talked to me. They saw me with the sign and approached me. I told them I was a stand-in for my grandmother. They were more than a little frightening and tried their best to be intimidating,” he said.

“You should have spent time with them alone in a locked room if you want to know what scary is.”

“Were they MI5?”

“What?” I asked.

“British Security Service,” he explained.

“They didn’t tell me anything, including their names.”

“And what exactly did you do to bring them down upon you?” he asked.

“I didn’t do anything. It was just a case of mistaken identity.”

“Isn’t that what every criminal says? Or perhaps they found your beret so questionable they had to—”

I grabbed him by the arm and spun him around so that we were eye to eye—although his eyes were a bit lower than mine. “This beret belonged to my grandfather. He wore it until he died. He left it for me. I wear it in his honor. Is there anything else you’d like to say about it before we go any further?”

He looked shocked and more than a little shaken. Those two men weren’t the only ones who could be intimidating.

“Because my keen powers of observation tell me I’m a lot bigger than you,” I added.

“Are you threatening me?” he stuttered.

“I guess I’m not the only one who’s observant, although technically I’m not threatening you,” I said—although I guess I was. Maybe it wasn’t such a wise thing to beat up my friend’s grandson. He was a jerk, but she probably loved him.

I released my grip on his arm and he straightened his shirt and jacket, which had gotten sort of rumpled in my hands.

“I’m sorry. How about if we start over?” I reached out my hand. “My name is David and I’m pleased to meet you.”

He held out his hand and we shook. “Charles.” That was better. “Now climb in.” He pointed at a green MGB sports car parked at the curb. There was a large yellow ticket on the windshield, held in place by the wiper. He took it, ripped it in two and dropped it on the pavement.

“That’s your car?”

“Again, a brilliant observation.”

I had a further desire to pop him as he took my bag from me, but bringing a bleeding grandson home would not be the greatest greeting. I walked around the car, opened the right passenger door and there was a steering wheel staring at me. England—wrong side of the car, wrong side of the road.

“Unless you’re planning on driving, I suggest you climb in the other side,” Charles said.

So much for us starting over. All I wanted to do was drive him—one good shot to the jaw. How could somebody as nice as Doris have a grandson who so desperately needed a kick in the butt? We both climbed in, he started the engine, and we drove away.

“Why didn’t your grandmother come to pick me up?”

“She had a slight accident.”

“Is she all right?” I exclaimed.

“Not right enough to pick you up, but she’ll be fine.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“I’ll let her tell the story.”

I wanted to press further but knew there was little point.

We turned onto a street hardly wide enough for one car but with two-way traffic. The narrow street was lined by brick, three-story row houses. It felt a bit like driving into a canyon.

“Here we are,” Charles said as we came to a stop.

“Thanks for the ride. I really appreciated it,” I said as I climbed out of the car, bag in hand.

“I’m sure you did.”

He started to pull away from the curb before I’d even closed the door!

“Wait, which house is it?” I yelled.

“Two twenty-one!” he yelled back. He reached over, pulled the door shut and drove off, leaving me in a bluish cloud of exhaust.

“Glad I could help…my pleasure…is there anything else I can do…so nice to meet you,” I muttered to myself, thinking of all the possible responses he could have given.

I looked for the address. There it was, right across the street. I looked to the left, stepped into the street and heard a loud honk and the squeal of brakes. I jumped back onto the curb. A taxi had skidded to a stop. I’d forgotten to look in the right direction: to the right.

“Watch yourself, you bloody idiot!” the driver called out of his window as he slowly drove by.

So much for English hospitality. In the short time I’d been in England, I’d been detained by government agents, threatened with a full cavity search, been practically dumped at the side of the road and now had almost been run over. At least the guy in the taxi had reason to be annoyed at me. It would have been an incredibly bad way to end this adventure—hit by taxi on the streets of London. How would I explain that to my mother? How would I explain any of this?

I looked to the right—and to the left—and proceeded safely across the street and up the stairs of 221. It was a nice-looking home, almost identical to the rest of the houses up and down the street. I rang the bell and it sounded out loud and clear. I waited. No answer. I waited a few more beats, so I wouldn’t be rude, and then rang again. There was still no answer. Did I mishear the number? Did he say 221 or something else? Would I have to go door to door to find Doris? Surely some of her neighbors would know her even if this wasn’t the right house.

I started to walk away and then turned back. I reached out and turned the doorknob. The door was unlocked. I opened it slowly and poked my head inside. Overhead was a big crystal chandelier, and on the floor was an ornate carpet. The walls were adorned with paintings, and there was a dark wooden table with a big gold-framed mirror above it. I don’t know much about home décor, but I do know when things look expensive.

“Hello!” I called out, my voice echoing down the hallway. I was starting to think this wasn’t such a smart idea, that I should close the door and retreat before anybody called the police on me.

“DJ, is that you?” a faint voice answered.

“Yes! Doris?”

“I’m up here…upstairs!”

There was a flight of stairs at the end of the hall. I raced to it, almost tripping on the rug, and then took the stairs two and three at a time. And there she was, in a big comfy chair with her leg up on a stool and a big white cast on her leg! I rushed over and threw my arms around her and gave her a big hug. I felt happy and relieved and confused.

“It is so wonderful to see you, dear boy!” she said, beaming. “Now, let me have a look at you!”

I straightened up.

“I do believe you have grown since I last saw you. Perhaps not taller but thicker, stronger-looking.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of weight training for football, so I’ve added fifteen pounds of muscle.”

“It shows. And I’m so happy to see you wearing the beret. It looks like it belongs up there!”

I reached up and touched it. “Your grandson commented on it as well.” I decided not to repeat what he had said.

“And where is my grandson?”

“He seemed to be in a hurry. I thanked him and he was gone. He mentioned you’d had an accident but wouldn’t tell me what happened. So…what happened?”

“I tripped on one of my cats.”

“Really?”

She laughed. “I climbed Kilimanjaro, and I was felled by a tabby. It happened only last night.”

“Is it bad? Does it hurt?”

“It’s a little sore, but nothing I can’t live with. I’m afraid it’s my pride that was damaged as much as my leg. Please, come and have a seat.”

I sat down in a big chair across from her. I looked around. This room was as fancy as the hall.

“You have a beautiful home,” I said.

“It’s most comfortable. I’ve thought about moving. It’s a bit big for just one old woman to ramble around in.”

“You climbed Kilimanjaro, so you’re not that old.”

“Sweet of you to say, but it may be time to move. Thank goodness I have my housekeeper and cook to help me.”

“Wow, servants,” I said without thinking.

“Just part-time, but very essential right now to take care of me. My dear husband left me very comfortable,” she said. “He was, as they say, active in government circles.”

He must have been very active to afford a house like this.

“I’m just so sorry that this has happened now, and I won’t be able to ferry you around London and show you the sights.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can get myself around, no problem.”

“I’m sure you can, but what sort of a host would I be if I left you to your own devices?” she asked. “I’ve arranged for Charlie to take you around.”

“And Charlie agreed?” I asked, feeling very surprised. He didn’t seem much like a Charlie or very agreeable.

“Right away. I’m sure the two of you will get on brilliantly.”

And I was sure if Doris had been along for the car ride, she would have thought different.

“You will get to see the London Eye, the museums, Buckingham Palace, the changing of the guard—perhaps even have a night out. You will be here for New Year’s Eve, correct?”

“I’m not scheduled to head back until the third.”

“I think Charlie is planning on taking in the celebration in Trafalgar Square,” she said. “It’s the English version of Times Square.”

“That’s really not necessary.” Or possible, if I was relying on Charlie to befriend me.

“It is, unless you want to bring in the New Year sipping tea with an old woman with a broken leg.”

“I can think of worse ways to celebrate,” I replied.

“Then you have a far better imagination than I possess.” She paused. “So tell me, not that I’m not thrilled to have you here, what prompted this very impulsive decision to come to London?”

I had tried to rehearse this moment in my head without success. Explaining to Doris why I was here was going to be only slightly easier than explaining it to my mother when I got home.

“You’re going to think this is crazy.”

“I’m British. We thrive on outlandish thinking, eccentric ideas and people. Please.”

I pulled the papers out of my jacket pocket and handed them to her. “These are from a notebook my grandfather kept. It was hidden; my cousins and I discovered it by accident.”

She studied the pages one after the other and then looked up at me. “This appears to be in code.”

I nodded.

“And you’re sure it’s his doing, that this is his writing?”

“Positive.”

“That means one of two things. Either he was a little off his rocker or he was a spy.”