by AJ Frazer
Sagen darkened. “Let me ask you this: how far would you go to seek vengeance for the death of your loved ones? Would you kill? Would you die? You see, I am prepared to do it all and then some! The path I am on is unlikely to end well for me, but neither will it for the organizations I hold responsible for the murder of my family. And as for laws? Well, when the laws of man are in direct conflict with the laws of nature, I’ll side with nature every time!”
Dominic had to admit this madman, this extremist, this killer, was utterly magnetic. Sagen’s motives were heroic, though contradictory, and Dominic couldn’t say that he would do anything different in the same situation. Although, he did question if he had ever loved someone so much as to dedicate his life to avenging their death.
“So—again—tell me, what’s the plan? I mean, you must have a master plan.”
Sagen laughed, throwing his head back. The sound was shocking after the intensity of their earlier conversation. “Please, we’ve only just met. I can’t tell you all my secrets, otherwise you will lose interest in me.”
Playing hard to get, OK.
“I doubt very much that’s––”
The door to the room swung open suddenly and Erik burst in, making straight for Sagen. “We must leave immediately! We’re tracking multiple vehicles close by and a lot of encrypted comms data. Could be a raid.” Erik already had Sagen by the arm and was lifting him out of his seat.
“Distance from the camp?” Sagen asked.
“Twenty-three miles to the north,” said Erik.
“OK, we have time for an air evac,” Sagen replied. “Is the pilot aware?”
“Yes, he’s prepping the helo.”
“Good,” Sagen said calmly as he was bustled toward the door. “I am sorry, Dominic!” called out Sagen. “I will be in touch.”
Dominic stood, electrified by the sudden action. In the space of ten seconds the room had emptied and a heavy quiet fell. He had lost the rest of his interview. He’d probably never see Sagen again and he needed more to complete an even half-decent outline of the man. The whining sound of the chopper’s engines made up his mind. He pushed his chair back and moved quickly for the door.
Outside, the cold air smacked him in the face and caught his breath. He ran toward the sound of the chopper, its engines now up to speed. Running up to it from the side, he went to the open door and saw Sagen sitting with a man who looked ex-military.
“Let me come with you!” Dominic shouted above the roar.
Sagen went to answer, but the other man interjected. “Back!”
It was now too loud to speak, so Dominic mouthed, “Come on,” and pleaded with his eyes.
The security man was not in the mood to negotiate. He reached quickly into his jacket and produced a Glock 9mm pistol, the barrel of which he angled in Dominic’s face. He mouthed, “Back!”
It wasn’t the first time Dominic had seen a gun pointed at him, but that made it no less shocking. “OK! OK!” He moved slowly back, keeping his hands in clear view in front of him.
As he stepped backward, Erik rushed past without a word and climbed into the waiting helicopter, which lifted off before the door was even closed.
The icy wind blasted wood chips and dust at Dominic as he watched the helicopter bank hard to the right, skimming the buildings, and then fly over the silhouette of the pine trees. It quickly disappeared, leaving only the trailing sound of jet turbines straining to reach maximum speed.
Standing there in the now quiet afternoon, Dominic felt helpless and desperately lonely.
Well, shit!
Zhen, the young woman he had spoken to on the couch the day before, ran up to him and put her hand on his arm. “Come with me, Mr. Elliston. We’re going to try to get you to the airstrip. There is a private jet on its way to collect you.”
Dominic looked at her blankly and nodded, turning slowly to head for the convoy of waiting Land Rovers. What the hell just happened?
Chapter Ten
The plane landed in the dark somewhere—he was told—in the English countryside. He was then taken to a car, again wearing the hood. He felt Zhen’s hand on his arm leading him. It felt good having her touch. Comforting and exciting at the same time. Any meaningful conversation with her was a futile endeavor while wearing a hood and traveling in a car with an unknown number of people. So Dominic let himself sleep as he was driven back into London.
At some point, the car stopped, and a door opened. The change in motion and sound of the door closing woke Dominic. Zhen opened his door, reached in and removed the hood. He blinked, taking in the surrounds. A familiar street—his street, his terrace in Hampstead. A sight for sore eyes for sure. A weak, silvery pre-dawn light made the buildings look unnatural and fake against the blanket of gunmetal clouds above.
“Thanks,” said Dominic, croakily, as he extracted himself from the rear seat.
“You’re welcome,” she replied, far too energetically for the time of day and the journey they had just completed.
He walked away like a beaten man, climbing the steps to his house as if they were the final steps to an eight-thousand-meter summit. At the front door, he realized he didn’t have his keys, his phone, or any money.
“Hey!” he yelled, jogging back down the steps.
The window of the black BMW glided down. “Yes?”
“I don’t have my keys. Or my phone, or wallet.”
“Don’t you have a neighbor with a spare key?”
Dominic was incredulous. “Of course not! I don’t give my bloody keys to neighbors. This is London!”
She smiled and shrugged as the window glided back up and the car drove off, leaving him standing on the pavement.
He watched the car drive away. “Cheeky little …”
Looking around, he contemplated his options. He was vaguely aware of a scooter that had pulled into the curb a few meters away. He turned to the direction in which Zhen had left, hoping that she might turn around and pick him up. The sound of feet running behind him startled him into spinning around. He saw a man wearing a motorbike helmet with the chin guard rotated up coming at him. In his hand was a large digital SLR camera with a black telephoto lens. The man hoisted up the camera and started snapping photos of Dominic. The man then started shouting at him while still taking photos.
“Mr. Elliston, where have you been? Why has Scotland Yard been investigating your disappearance?”
A pap. A cocking bloody pap! Dominic stumbled back, unsure where to escape.
Someone—a young man in running kit—leaving a house in the opposite terrace caught his eye. After locking his door, the man stared at the scene unfolding in the street.
“Excuse me!” Dominic started across the road with the paparazzi photographer in tow. “Excuse me!”
The man stood frozen, clearly confused by what was happening.
“I live across there.” Dominic pointed across the road. “I’ve lost my keys and left my wallet and phone at a friend’s place. Mind if I borrow your phone?”
The man looked perplexed as he eyed the photographer who was still barking questions at Dominic. “Come on inside.”
Oh, thank God! A knight in shining Lycra.
Dominic followed him up to the landing where the man opened the door and ushered him inside. He noted the house number on the doorframe.
“You’re Dominic Elliston, right? I’m Tom Devonshire.”
“Ah, yes, that’s right. I’m terribly sorry about all this. It’s been one hell of a few days. If I can just call my assistant, I’ll get out of your way and leave you to your run.”
“Of course. Come on down to the kitchen. What’s that all about?”
Dominic followed Tom down the narrow hallway, relieved to be off the street. “Bloody paparazzi. That’s the trouble when you own a media empire, your competition delight in letting loose the hounds.”
“Sounds like you could do with a cuppa.” Tom didn’t wait for an answer. He went straight to the kettle and got busy.
; At the knock on the front door, Dominic’s neighbor let in a rather anxious-looking Jacqueline. Three other photographers were now standing outside making their presence known. All had their big expensive cameras up to their faces as they snapped rapid-fire images, straining for their scoop.
Jacqueline moved into the hallway and wrapped her arms around her boss as he came to greet her. “Jesus Christ, Dom, we’ve been so bloody worried! Half of Scotland Yard has been looking for you.”
“Not just Scotland Yard by the look of things,” he said, indicating the commotion in the street. “But let’s not get into all that now, shall we? I have encroached on Tom’s good hospitality enough and likely ruined his morning run.”
Jacqueline clicked. She’d already said too much in front of a stranger. “Yes, yes. Of course, sorry about that.” She turned to leave.
Dominic shook Tom’s hand brusquely. “Thank you for the phone and tea. Very much appreciated and I’m sorry for the circus out there.”
“Of course,” said Tom. “No problem.” The man was sure to have a cracking story to tell the office that day.
Bracing themselves for the flash of bulbs and barrage of questions, Dominic descended the steps quickly, his arms around Jacqueline, as the pair hurried across the street to his terrace. The baying photographers all yelled and snapped shots furiously as they followed like hounds.
Slamming the door behind them, they were safe in the confines of Dominic’s terrace. Jacqueline looked at Dominic, still catching her breath. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“I have no idea,” he said as he led the way to the kitchen, past the lovingly restored staircase and the artworks on the walls of the hallway. “Seriously, not a clue. Somewhere in Europe. Maybe Germany or Austria, perhaps—or further north. The whole thing was surreal.”
“Sorry for blurting it out back there, but MI6 and the Yard have been apoplectic. We managed to keep it out of the news, though clearly there’s been a leak.” She nodded to the front door.
“Last thing we need is for this to be in the bloody press.”
“Perhaps Ray can make some calls.”
“Yes, can you please speak to him? Also, get Jane in publicity on it. Ray and I can handle the big outlets, but the rats and mice publishers will need to be handled carefully.”
“Of course.” Jacqueline nodded. “So, the interview went well?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘well’, but the time we did have was extremely revealing. His story—what little I got of it—is utterly remarkable. And, despite everything, I genuinely believe he is a righteous man.” He sat down at the kitchen table and held a hand to his aching temple. “Fix us a tea, could you?”
“Sure. You must be exhausted.”
“Wrecked.”
“You look like you’ve aged ten years,” said Jacqueline remorselessly.
“Thanks.”
She busied herself making the tea. “Umm, I called Hale at MI6 on my way over to let her know you’d returned.”
“Oh Christ! Why did you do that? I suppose she wants to talk.”
“Yes, ‘fraid so. I reckon you have ten minutes before she’s knocking.”
“Just what I feel like.” The exhaustion filled the hollows of his body.
“She’s going to want details of what happened.”
“Yeah, I’m sure she will. Thankfully, Sagen’s people are methodical, to say the least, and I really don’t have much to share with her. Honestly.”
“OK. Also, do you really want me to call Ray? He’s been worried sick. Might be better if he heard from you.”
Dominic nodded. “You’re right, I’ll call him. We need to discuss the Veda Analytics deal.”
Jacqueline brought the handset over along with the cup of tea.
“Thanks.” Dominic searched for Ray’s name in the phone and hit the green icon. The dial tone barely had a chance to sound before the line was picked up. “Ray, it’s me.”
“Jesus, Dom, you all right? Where the hell have you been?” Ray said, his exhaustion and stress audible in a loud exhalation of relief.
“I’m fine. No idea where I’ve been. But let’s talk about that later. We need to make a call on Veda Analytics. Any further developments?”
“No. The investigators have assembled the evidence into a package and it all stinks.”
“Vivek and his executive are neck-deep?”
“Definitely.”
“All right. We proceed with the deal.”
“What? That’s insane! No good can possibly come from this unholy union. If we found this dirt, someone else could too—we’ll be crucified.”
“Why do we want Veda Analytics?”
Ray paused before answering. “We want their technology, we want their algorithms, and we want their customer data.”
“Exactly.”
“What am I missing, Dom?”
“We don’t want Vivek or his leadership team.”
“Hell no!”
“So, proceed with the deal. Don’t let on that we know anything just yet. Once it is done, I want him eviscerated, along with all his filthy henchmen. Immediately. Drain the fucking swamp, Ray. Then I want that business ripped apart into so many pieces it’ll look like snowfall. Not a trace of the Veda Analytics brand is to exist.”
“Got it. I’ll do it personally, and with the greatest pleasure.”
“I thought you would. Let’s get the plans drawn up and agreed. Then I’ll be having a little chit-chat with Vivek.”
Dominic had been mulling over how to handle the Veda Analytics acquisition. Common sense and good business acumen said to walk away from the deal immediately, to cut losses, retreat, and lick wounds. Common sense, acumen, and retreat had never been high on Dominic’s psych profile. More like balls-out, audacious, aggression. When he’d been talking to Sagen about Jagged Edge existing to create truth, he realized the truth of the Veda Analytics situation. It wasn’t one to be walked away from, it was one to be embraced. Just with some good old-fashioned ruthlessness.
A knock at the door jolted Dominic from the moment. “Hale,” he mumbled, rubbing his face. He walked out of the kitchen and down the hall and opened the front door to find a dour-looking Hale accompanied by three equally dour-looking men. Behind them even more photographers were heaped on the pavement below.
“Come in. Let’s get this over with,” said Dominic.
Chapter Eleven
Dominic’s patience was wearing thin. They had been sitting at the dining table in the kitchen for nearly two hours going over everything.
“Sagen’s people thought you were about to raid their compound. That’s why he fled,” said Dominic, exasperated.
Hale shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a raid.”
“Perhaps another country then. CIA.”
“Hmm. We’ll look into it.” Hale nodded to one of her goons who made a note on a small pad. “So you’re saying you’ve no idea where you were or where Sagen went?”
“I can’t say it any other way for you.”
“All right. Well, you’ve had quite an ordeal, Mr. Elliston.” She evidently thought there wasn’t much to be gained by questioning him any further. “Get some rest. And if any other details come to mind, please let me know.”
“Yes, of course,” dismissed Dominic, with a flick of his hand.
Hale and the others all rose at the same time, as if in a choreographed move, and he stood to see them out. As they entered the hallway, Hale slowed down to create some space from her entourage.
“Look, I’m sorry to harangue you like this, but there is some urgency to tracking down Victor Sagen.”
“Really? How so?”
“I can’t go into that but suffice to say it’s one of our primary priorities.”
“Can’t have more than one primary priority.”
Hale smiled sarcastically. “Thanks for the lesson in pedantry. You know I’ve been onto Sagen for a long time and I need to get results, now. I will do whatever it takes in order
to bring him down if he’s anywhere near the UK.”
Dominic was surprised by her admission. Why did she need to explain herself to him? And if she’d been tracking Sagen for so long, why was it so urgent to get him now?
“Do you know why he’s doing what he does?” asked Dominic.
“What do you mean?” Hale looked perplexed.
“Why Sagen created Earth Ghost. Why he’s gone to such extremes.”
“Some warped idea of saving humanity, I believe.”
“It’s far more personal than that. In fact, it’s the oldest motivation in the world—revenge.”
Hale stopped at the door and turned back to him. “Revenge?”
“Yes. Revenge against the corporations he holds responsible for contributing to the climate change that caused the wildfire in California that killed his wife and child.”
Hale looked at Dominic with quizzical eyes. “Revenge.” She shook her head as he opened the front door for them. “Goodbye, Mr. Elliston. Thank you for your cooperation.” With that, she and her nameless heavies walked out.
Dominic was relieved the next morning to have the house to himself. Jacqueline had brought him supplies the day before, which he used to make breakfast. She had also brought him over a new phone and his laptop—of course, already set up—which he opened and started scrolling through his email. Nothing of any real interest.
Then he spotted it. An email from Zhen Daiyu. Opening the message, he rubbed his eyes and sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. The email read:
Nice to meet you the other day. We should continue our conversation, just click here.
Strange. He didn’t get the sense Zhen was the type for internet chats and he doubted Earth Ghost allowed her much discretionary time. He wondered if this was some kind of cyber hack. He would never normally click on a link in an email, but he felt strangely compelled to do so.
“Go on then,” he whispered before clicking on the hyperlinked text.
Nothing happened. He wasn’t taken to another webpage, and no programs started up. In a way, he was relieved. Then his screen flickered staccato with brief glimpses of code flashing through.
