Rules of Vengeance

Jonathan spotted a pair of policemen, fluorescent orange bibs on their chests, coming toward him, their eyes searching every face they passed. He looked over his shoulder and counted no less than four peaked caps. Not knowing what else to do, he stopped where he was and turned his attention to the nearest store window. It belonged to a currency exchange firm. The teller was open for business. A line extended from the customer window. He stood at the back, hands in his pockets, eyes to the fore. He imagined the policemen coming closer and felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.

A slight older man stood in front of him, counting coins from a change purse. Jonathan took a step forward, bumping into him forcefully, causing him to drop his change. Coins tinkled onto the pavement.

“I’m sorry,” said Jonathan as he crouched down to help the elderly man pick up his change. “That was clumsy of me. Let me help you.”

“Thank you,” mumbled the man in accented English.

Jonathan trained his eyes on the pavement as he picked up the stray pound coins. From the corner of his eye, he observed two pairs of polished black boots stride past. When the policemen had gone, he stood and handed the man his change. “Did we find it all?”

The man counted his coins and nodded.

The line moved forward. Jonathan stepped to the window and exchanged one hundred dollars for pounds. After completing his transaction, he continued down the street, hugging the buildings.

A few feet ahead he spotted the sign for the Underground. He descended the steps into the station. If anything, it was more congested than the street. The depot spa

He passed through the turnstile and made a beeline for the nearest tu

Five minutes after that, Jonathan got off at Marylebone station.

He was a free man.

26

Twenty-five Notting Hill Lane was an Edwardian two-story town home painted robin’s-egg blue, with dormer windows upstairs and a black lacquered front door replete with a brass knocker. It was nine-thirty, and night had fallen as Jonathan climbed the short flight of stairs and struck the heavy ball three times. Almost immediately the door opened, causing Jonathan to start.

“Hello,” said a little girl with black hair done in pigtails.

“Is your daddy home?”

“Je

“Oh, hello, Jonathan. No, Jamie’s not back from hospital yet. Would you like to come in?”

“Do you expect him soon?”

“Any minute. Do come in. You can wait in the living room until he gets home.”

Jonathan stepped inside and Prudence Meadows shut the door behind him. She asked him to wait a moment while she tucked her daughter back into bed, and disappeared up the stairs. Jonathan walked across the foyer, ducking his head around the corner and looking at the living room. Pictures of Meadows and his family decorated a side table. There was a leather couch and an ottoman with a hand-knitted blanket thrown across it. Toys and stuffed animals littered the floor.

“Can I get you something?” asked Prudence Meadows as she came down the stairs. “Coffee? Tea? Something stronger, perhaps?”

“Some water, maybe. Thanks.”

She passed by him, slowing as she caught sight of his face. “What happened to you? You’re all scratched up.”

“I was in an accident today.”

Prudence Meadows stood on her tiptoes, touching her hand to his cheek as if she were an admitting nurse. “Goodness. Are you all right?”

“Just a little shaken.”

“Was that why you missed your speech? Jamie called from the hotel and said the place was in an absolute uproar. He wanted to contact you, but he didn’t have your number.”

“Something like that. It’s complicated.” Jonathan followed her into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. Prudence handed him a glass of water and he drank it down. Without asking, she prepared a plate of biscuits and fresh fruit and set it before him. A snifter of brandy came a minute later. “Thought you might need something with a little bite to it,” she said. “You look rather done in.”

“You could say that.” Jonathan took a sip of the strong liqueur, letting it relax him. “You have a nice home,” he said.

Prudence smiled. “And you? Jamie said you had a wife but hadn’t settled down in any one place.”

“The job keeps us moving from place to place. There’s no time to put down roots.”

“Must be exciting,” she said. “All those foreign locales.”

“Sometimes.”

“No children?”

“Not yet.” Jonathan checked the clock. It was nearing ten. He finished the brandy and stood. “I should be going. It’s late.”

“Don’t be silly. Jamie would positively kill me if he found out that I’d let you leave without seeing him. Have some more brandy while I give him a call and find out where he is.” She refilled his glass, and with a smile walked out of the room.

Jonathan made a circuit of the kitchen. There were kids’ drawings on the fridge and an agenda spread open. From afar he could hear Prudence speaking with her husband. Glancing down, he flipped a page back, then another. A severe black line inked across the page caught his eye. The day before, a di

“He’s on his way,” called Prudence. “Should be pulling into the drive any minute. In fact, I think I hear him.”

From the back door came the sound of an automobile. The engine cut and a door slammed. A few moments later, Jamie Meadows stepped inside. “Jesus, man, look at you. What the hell happened?”

“Can we talk?” said Jonathan.

Meadows kissed his wife. “We’ll be upstairs in the study, Pru. Be a dear and bring me a little something. Ham sandwich would be nice. Lots of mustard. The hot stuff.”

Meadows led Jonathan to a cozy wood-paneled study on the second floor and pointed to a high-backed captain’s chair. “Sit,” he commanded. “Speak.”

With a sigh, Jonathan sat. “I need a place to stay.”

“Thought you were at the Dorchester.”

“I am. I mean, I was. I checked out.”

“You’re serious? And you want to stay here? Don’t get me wrong, you’re welcome. Stay as long as you like. It’s just that I don’t think a trundle bed in the kids’ room is an even trade.”

“Something’s come up.”

Meadows refilled Jonathan’s glass. Setting down the decanter, he pointed to the cuts on Jonathan’s face. “You look like you were in a fist fight and you lost.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Out with it. It’s me, Jamie. I’ve got enough skeletons for two closets.” He offered a sneaky grin as consolation. “Not a woman, is it? I know some of you aid docs. You’ve got a warm gal stashed in every port.”

“Not exactly.”

“It’s not Emma, is it? You’re not hiding from your wife?”

“I’m hiding, but it’s not from Emma. It’s from the police.”

“Stop having me on. What’s up?”

Jonathan leveled his gaze at his friend. “I’m not kidding.”