The minute hand had almost reached noon as he stepped onto the road off the pavement. He looked up at precisely the same time as the dark coloured Mercedes with the blacked out windows pulled up on the other side. A rear door opened to invite him inside. Matt took a deep breath and entered, sliding onto the soft leather seating. The driver’s head turned and looked him over.
“Durham?”
Matt nodded at the square face of the driver. Probably into his forties the clean shaven, powerfully-jawed head was topped by thickly woven dark hair. In a previous life Matt was sure the guy must have worked as a bouncer, given the steroid induced bulkiness of the strong arms and broad shoulders. The chauffer directed Matt’s attention to the open door with a single movement of his eyes, and Matt obediently reached to his side and pulled it shut.
For over twenty minutes the German machine effortlessly glided along the winding roads towards Matt’s day of destiny. He had rehearsed every sentence over and over again, minute after minute, hour after hour. Matt had to get this right. Rosa was right. His enemies would adopt a scorched earth policy to those he cherished so their lives depended on him succeeding. Matt practised once more as dark green scenery flashed by the fast moving window. Sub-consciously, he realised they were distancing themselves from St Wolfgang. Consciously, he was a mental mess. Long shots didn’t get any longer than this.
The car eased gracefully to a halt. Matt waited for the door to open. He stepped into the sunlight to be instantly greeted by Catherine.
“You are finally here,” she said, leaning forward so they could exchange light kisses to each other’s cheeks. He was too tired to move the muscles of his face.
“You look weary,” she said.
“Knackered would be a better word.”
Her lips broadened to a welcoming smile. She looked very different from their last encounter, in China. There, she was unkempt and grubby, hair flattened to her skull by the sapping intensity of the humid atmosphere. Now she was back to the archetypal professional he always known her to be, perfectly groomed and dressed powerfully in a spotlessly clean made to measure business suit.
“I thought we’d be closer to the wedding venue,” he said.
“Better to meet away from possible prying eyes. Come, let us go inside. Have you eaten?”
He nodded wearily. Clasping his hand, she led him up the wooden steps into the Tyrolean house. They walked through the main door and entered the next one to the left, revealing a large and open space bathed in daylight. The room had all the trappings of a luxurious office. She motioned him to a green leather chair and sat at the one opposite, behind a solid wood desk pressed up to the tall window. The modern telephone was accompanied by a computer monitor and an expensive looking writing pad. The remaining implement resembled an intercom speaker. Catherine fixed a steady gaze on his eyes and smiled sympathetically.
“Life has been hard for you,” she said.
“I’ve had easier times.”
“At least you are in the company of friends now.”
He sank back into the chair and exhaled deeply.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Amongst friends … that sounds good.”
She raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Perhaps you would prefer to rest first? We can attend to this later.”
“No. I’m here now. Let’s get it done.”
His mood appeared distant, distracted.
“You seem a little preoccupied.”
“Disappointed more like.”
“Disappointed? About what?” she asked.
“At getting played so easily. And the fact I’m not as clever as I thought I was.”
“What do you mean?”
He paused to collect his thoughts.
“This was never about the old guard wanting revenge but a new breed intent on resurrecting The Milieu Principle. Before they could start clandestine operations however, two obstacles had to be removed. The first was to eliminate all the original, surviving plotters. Once they were gone, the political classes would assume the conspiracy had died with them. The new group’s other problem was me. They were concerned I had retained copies of the original files and, if I had, what I might ultimately do with them. They couldn’t risk I might do nothing. A loose end, you could say.”
“Go on,” she said.
“Like a dumb sheep I followed their carefully laid path, via a diary. This led me to the immediate vicinities of each of the old guard’s homes as and when they suffered their untimely demises. The problem for the conspirators was I hadn’t, up to then, physically harmed anybody or revealed the location of any files in my possession.”
Her brow furrowed with curiosity.
“So they released news of your detainment in China. Matt Durham responded much as they predicted he would. I left my sole surviving copy of the files with someone I believed was able and could trust, and then went charging in to China with all guns blazing. Once I had taken out Chen and Tanaka their plan was complete. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. They had the files, and now I was discredited as a killer. Who was going to believe the protestations of a convicted murderer?”
“So why did they not close their trap?”
“Fortunately, fate played a decisive hand. Chen decided to delve into his old Milieu files at the same time I happened to enter his room.”
Her gaze was steady, unflinching.
“By copying the files onto a memory stick I had regained possession of the very thing the conspirators wanted to relieve me of, perhaps with additional information. The only saving grace for them was that Chen’s files had been doctored with encryption.”
“The conspirators would surely know this. How would this be of concern to them?”
“They couldn’t chance I might crack the code. They knew if I did, I would go public this time. Their first attempt to stop me was to force a plane crash. This failed, so they had to try something else. They realised I wasn’t going to show myself until I’d found a way in so they set another trap, found a way of putting me in touch with someone who could decrypt the files on the USB. By rigging it with an alarm feed they hoped to track down my lair before I could do anything with them. It would have worked too had I not spotted the CIA agents at the Wolfgangsee.”
Matt paused for breath.
“The time I spent in Berchesgaden was the turning point.”
“How do you mean?”
“It forced me to take a time out, look at the problem from a different angle. Up until then I’d been focussing my attention on the wrong issue, as I already essentially knew what was on the files. The encryption was a red herring. Sending copies to enough media outlets would have aroused sufficient curiosity for someone to find a way of breaking the code. No, the real key lay in who was behind it all.
Catherine leaned forward expectantly. He was ready.
“I really should have twigged it the day Rosa came calling in Hallstatt, when she told me you had asked her to bring me in, along with the files.”
“That is correct. What of it?”
“I didn’t tell anyone about the download in China. Not Rosa, not you. The only people who would therefore know I had regained possession of the files would be the conspirators themselves, once they’d checked the file history on Chen’s computer after we’d fled from the residence.”
Catherine’s eyes briefly flickered from their fixed position.
“You were never at Chen’s luxury residence under duress, Catherine,” said Matt. “You were there to question him and Tanaka about the Milieu files.”
Matt held his attention on her face. Oddly, her expression didn’t alter. He found this worrying, the absence of concern on her part. Catherine was still for a few moments. Then she reached forward and touched at the button on the intercom.
“You had better come and join us.” she said into the machine.
The door opened and Matt heard the sound of footsteps against the wooden floor. He didn’t have to look round to identify the individual.
&nb
sp; “I wondered when you would make your appearance, Mr Cole.”
“It’s good to see you again, Matt,” said the voice.
The man he knew to be Will Salmon occupied the adjacent seat. Once he had settled into the chair Catherine returned her gaze to Matt. He looked into her eyes. They bore the look of someone supremely confident of their position.
“So what is the purpose of your attendance today?”
“To give you this,” said Matt, reaching into his side pocket to produce a USB. He placed it on the table directly in front of her. “It is what you asked me to bring after all.”
She glanced at Cole.
“It is now your intention to join with us?”
“Not exactly,” he said. “I spent most of yesterday and last night preparing dozens and dozens of copies for distribution to investigative journalists, academic institutions and the like. Flood the market, so to speak. Once they’ve all been received people will be all over this thing like a rash, lifting the lid on your plans for good. Politicians will have to respond. Not just on the conspiracy, but on the wider population issue too. The electorates will demand it.”
“You chose not to e-mail the information?”
He shook his head.
“You have the capacity to intercept e-mails. Something Rosa taught me. It felt prudent to take a cautious approach, a more circuitous route.”
He expected his comments to worry her. She straightened her posture, intertwining her long fingers as if in prayer. Matt expected rage to spill from her mouth.
“Rosa has much to answer for,” she said lightly.
Her manner remained calm, indifferent. It was surreal. Matt decided to press ahead.
“What I don’t understand is why. Why you, of all people could let yourself be drawn into such a despicable thing.”
“You are well versed in the arguments. The case is amply demonstrated in the files. It is in the interests of all.”
This wasn’t how he’d imagined events to unfold. Catherine remained unperturbed. Matt persuaded himself this to be bravado on her part. Deep down, she had to be experiencing fear, rising panic.
“You mean your interests.”
“Civilisation cannot survive should things continue as they are. We are nearing the point where the demand for resources will outstrip the planet’s ability to supply, unable to sustain the twenty four hour cycle of consumption currently enjoyed by many. The only sensible option is to initiate a human cull, much in the same way we humans control the growth of other species.”
He was dumbstruck. She surely couldn’t have fallen victim to the propaganda of the conspirators.
“Culling human beings is not the solution. How can you possibly argue a case for immediate global genocide without fully exploring every other option?”
“The global population presently stands around six billion. A third of these already live in poverty and squalor. They are beyond salvation, so why prolong a life of suffering? Rogue states offer the world nothing other than global insecurity. As for the criminal classes they exist only to extort the innocent, forcibly take life and possessions which are not theirs to take. Why should they continue to be permitted to live amongst those who believe in the sanctity of law?”
“And what of the elderly, what have they ever done?”
She paused for a moment.
“Advances in medical science allow us to prolong life far beyond the natural life cycle. For what purpose?” she asked. “They make no active contribution to the development of our society. Rather they consume limited resources in ever greater quantities. They continue to enjoy life at the expense of those who might live in the future.”
She believed it. Catherine Vogel, the great humanitarian, had convinced herself this was necessary. Matt could hardly believe his ears.
“You’ll be old one day, Catherine. Or perhaps you get an exemption?”
She leaned forward, concentrating her impassive gaze on his face.
“I asked you once what you would do,” she said. “Could you provide an answer? No, there is no easy answer. At least, not one that allows everybody to live happily ever after. We already exist in a world of mass starvation. These levels can only increase. What happens when the developed nations are no longer able to provide meaningful employment, income and resource for their citizens so they might avoid the poverty trap bar a privileged few? What then? Do you allow society to drift into anarchy and despair? This is necessary.”
He understood the argument, and the consequence of doing nothing didn’t bear thinking about. But this had to be wrong. It surely couldn’t be right to prematurely end billions of lives for no reason other than they were considered to be unworthy, beyond salvation. He was struck by the venom with which she referred to the criminal classes and wondered if recent history had played on her mind.
“This isn’t the way to avenge your daughter’s murder.”
She baulked at his words.
“And what’s your excuse?” asked Matt, turning towards the man whose name he now knew to be Will Cole. The man held Matt’s gaze.
“I’ve lost too many mates to evil. Iraq, Afghanistan. They are tips of the iceberg. You have no idea. Even as we sit the real villains of the world are plotting more atrocities, putting explosive devices together to kill and maim thousands.”
They each had their demons, Matt realised. To some extent he could empathise. Catherine raised her hand to prevent Cole from offering any further illumination. Matt returned his gaze to her. He noted someone was missing and felt he had to ask the obvious question.
“Where is the third of your triumvirate?”
“The third?” she asked.
Matt assumed she was toying with him.
“Gratia,” he said.
“Gratia Fuchs?”
“Yes.”
Catherine’s expression was one of bemusement.
“She is to be tried and then sentenced, for the murder of one Matthias Schumann.”
“But she’s your agent? Gratia is the one who deciphered the diary and set down the path you wanted me to follow. She arranged for me to enter China and organised the decryption.”
“It is true. Gratia provided assistance with both the diary and in organising your illegal entry into China, but these actions were not done at our bidding. However the knowledge she helped you before presented us with an opportunity, to manufacture an apparent chance introduction to Matthias, in the hope you would contact her again.”
“You’re lying,” he said.
“Not at all, Matthias was our agent.”
“What?”
Catherine’s confident smile cut into his heart.
“Matthias was sent to make contact with you and gain your trust. This may have worked had the CIA not intervened.”
His heart sank. He’d been certain of Gratia’s involvement with these people. It was so obvious. Matt’s mind struggled to accept this new information.
“I don’t understand. Why … is Gratia being charged with this murder?”
“An open and shut case, she has confessed to the killing.”
“Bullshit! What possible motive could she have to kill this man?”
Catherine’s expression was one of surprise, as if he should have known. Matt couldn’t understand why Catherine would respond this way. Her thin lips took the form of an inadvertent grimace.
“The confession reveals the victim had demanded payment for some work in a manner to which she was unprepared to comply. When he pressed his claim she stabbed him in the heart.”
“So it was self defence?” he protested.
“There exists no evidence to substantiate her story. Gratia Fuchs will not reveal to the authorities the work she says she employed him to do. It is an enchanting quality you possess, this ability to engender loyalty from people you barely know. First it was Rosa, then Johannes and now Gratia Fuchs.”
Matt could feel anger building. He was close to exploding amidst the tidal wave of emotion rising inside
, threatening to swamp his rational deliberation.
Imprisonment would remove everything she had worked to achieve in life. Images of the arrest scene formed in his mind, of handcuffs being snapped around her slender wrists. Then she would have had to endure being driven to a police station and formally charged, photographed and fingerprinted as a common criminal. The experience would be nothing short of a nightmare.
He pictured the interrogation. Detectives yelling into her ears, demanding she reveal every final detail of events leading up to the killing, before her eventual incarceration. Any lesser being would have crumbled under the intense pressure, the humiliation, and told them everything. Instead, she elected to say nothing in the hope this would somehow protect Matt.
He felt stupid. Worse, that it he who’d betrayed her. Matt fought the surging rage. This was the wrong time to lose his discipline.
“You can’t allow this injustice to happen. For God’s sake, the woman was only trying to defend herself from assault. Surely you, of all people, should be able to relate to that kind of threat.”
She was surprisingly hesitant to answer.
“It is an openly reported civil matter, one in which justice must be seen to have been done and beyond my scope for intervention.”
Her icy stare was unrelentingly harsh and unsympathetic, entirely inconsiderate towards Gratia’s misfortune. Matt used to admire the woman sitting before him. Now, all he felt was contempt.
“You really are a bitch,” he spat. “Is this what your brave new world is about? How many other people like Gratia will end up on a list for extermination for the sole reason they tried to protect themselves?”
Catherine blinked twice.
“I am not a monster, Matt.”
“Oh I don’t know. Murdering sixty percent of the planet’s population would seem to give you a head start on most other people.”
He could see her mind working. A mind he understood to be cold and ruthless. She glanced at her watch, as if bored by the tedious nature of his remark. All the while the look in her eyes remained steady and emotionless.
“I ask you to look beyond the horizon. Humankind is on the precipice. The longer human consumption goes unchecked the less it leaves for future generations. Their suffering will be our legacy if we do not act. Despite the humanitarian qualities you possess I know you are not without sympathy for our position. You must see we work towards the greater good, no matter how painful the consequences might appear.”
Her words surprised him. Under any other circumstances he might have interpreted them as a rallying call. For the dangers facing civilisation due to over consumption were not lost on him.
Catherine checked her watch again.
“Little time remains. I had hoped to avoid this,” she said.
He wondered what she meant. Matt heard the crackle of a two-way radio. Cole lifted the device to his ear.
“They’re here,” he said.
Catherine sank back in the chair. Whatever the message, it didn’t sound good. Cole left the room. Matt studied the Austrian woman, her air of confidence replaced by anxiety.
“I can help you no longer,” she said softly.
“Help me! Christ, if you mean being chased all over China, threatened with a plane crash and then the subject of a SAS hit team in Berchesgaden is help then I can well do without.”
She looked worried. The change in her demeanour abrupt, completely the opposite of the façade she had presented only moments before.
“I did not want this.”
“Want what?”
She hesitated.
“You once said to me, in Brussels, the Americans were not at their strongest. You were wrong. They are as powerful as ever.”
He didn’t get the opportunity to comment further. The door flung open and a group of men powered into the room. Matt glimpsed Cole at the rear. Standing at the head of the group was the reason they had tried to prevent Matt from making the files public. The greased hair, high forehead and pale skinned complexion were instantly recognisable. The man’s thin lips curled into a Dracula-like snarl.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Two Faces of Evil
Milieu Dawn Page 36
