A Stolen Memory

ALSO BY DAVID BECKLERAntonia Conti Thriller seriesA Long ShadowMason & Sterling seriesBrotherhoodThe Profit MotiveForged in FlamesThe Money TrapAnthologyThe Road More Travelled: Tales of those seeking refuge This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.Text copyright © 2023, David BecklerAll rights reserved.No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattlewww.apub.comAmazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.ISBN-13: 9781542034708ISBN-10: 1542034701Cover design by Dominic Forbes This book is dedicated to Mark Astles. I worked with Mark many years ago and since he discovered my books, he’s been my number one fan and cheerleader, recommending them to everyone he speaks to. Most recently, the staff treating him at The Christie. I don’t know if I’d be thinking of a mate’s writing at a time like that.What a great person to have in your corner. Thanks, Mark, you’re a star. ContentsCHAPTER 1CHAPTER 2CHAPTER 3CHAPTER 4CHAPTER 5CHAPTER 6CHAPTER 7CHAPTER 8CHAPTER 9CHAPTER 10CHAPTER 11CHAPTER 12CHAPTER 13CHAPTER 14CHAPTER 15CHAPTER 16CHAPTER 17CHAPTER 18CHAPTER 19CHAPTER 20CHAPTER 21CHAPTER 22CHAPTER 23CHAPTER 24CHAPTER 25CHAPTER 26CHAPTER 27CHAPTER 28CHAPTER 29CHAPTER 30CHAPTER 31CHAPTER 32CHAPTER 33AcknowledgementsAbout the AuthorFollow the Author on Amazon CHAPTER 1The phone rang and Antonia snatched it off her desk. She didn’t need to check the caller, only two people knew this number and one was sitting in the next office. ‘John, what’s happened? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for a week.’He took so long replying she feared they’d been cut off. ‘A few things came up. But I’ve got something for you.’‘Have you got those names you promised me?’‘Do you remember the third place we met?’‘Charlton—’‘Don’t tell everyone. Bloody hell.’‘I’m the only one here,’ she said. ‘It’s an encrypted line.’‘Just meet me there in two hours.’‘Can we make it—’ But he’d gone.Blast! She’d never known John so wound up, but at least he’d agreed to meet her. She’d believed he’d changed his mind, scuppering her chances of the most explosive story she’d had in months. One that might not bring down Reed-Mayhew and GRM, his company, but would do them serious damage.She’d need to get a move on. Should she wear a cloaking mask, or would she get away with the ghost make-up? It was cold enough to need a scarf, but she wanted freedom to move fast. She decided on the make-up and picked up her kit, heading to the bathroom. As she entered the main office Eleanor spun her chair round.‘Do you want to finalise the interview shortlist for your new PA?’‘Sorry, Eleanor, I’m seeing—’ She checked who else was in earshot. Everyone looked busy and the two people nearest had their headsets on, seemingly engaged in lively discussions. ‘I’m going out. We’ll do it when I get back.’She rushed into the bathroom before Eleanor could protest. There wasn’t a lot of the ghost powder left. She’d need to order some more before the government made selling it illegal. She applied it with broad brushstrokes, covering her cheekbones and jaw, breaking up her profile. A line across her brow and she was ready. The fine powder made her dark skin look a dull grey.When she left the bathroom, Eleanor studied her. ‘You’re supposed to emphasise your best features when you’re putting on make-up, not cover them up. People would kill for cheekbones like yours.’‘It’s not supposed to— Ha, ha.’‘Don’t you think you should wear a mask? They’re more reliable.’‘I’m going on the tube, and apart from attention from the security patrols, you always get the “If you’ve done nothing wrong, why do you need to hide?” mob giving you a hard time. The make-up and afro should do the job.’‘I did wonder why you’d grown it. You normally have it so short.’She must look so tense. Eleanor was really trying to put her at her ease. ‘Right, I’d better go.’ John wouldn’t wait if she arrived late. She rushed through to her office and picked up the mobile, removing the SIM card and putting it in a side pocket. It wasn’t registered, but no point in taking risks. She slipped it into her backpack and strode out of her office.Eleanor was waiting and peered again at the powder coating Antonia’s skin. ‘Have you overdone it? The cameras might pick you out.’That was a risk with using ghost powder. If your changed profile looked unnatural, the face-recognition cameras would flag it and track you across the system.‘I should be okay, and anyway, I haven’t time to change it.’ She put her coat on. ‘I’ll be back by three.’She went into the tiny anteroom they jokingly referred to as the reception area. Even before she opened the outer door, the temperature dropped. This, and a sense of unease, made her shiver. After checking the screen of the security camera, she let herself out.A quick scan of the street revealing no unfamiliar vehicles, she strode out to the Angel tube station, relieved to see there weren’t any queues at the security checkpoints. A new travel card bought with cash got her past the barriers and she made her way to the northbound platform of the Northern Line. She wandered to the far end of the platform and watched the people waiting. Seven arrived at the platform after she did, but none paid her undue attention.With a rush of air and the smell of burning brakes, a train arrived. She jumped on, then, before the doors closed, got off. She scanned the length of the train, but nobody else got off. Satisfied nobody had followed her, she rushed to the southbound platform and caught the next train, getting off at Bank, where she charged up the escalators to exit at Lombard Street.