The Betrayal

by Chris Taylor

  “I’ll talk to the other witnesses and then a report will be prepared based upon my findings.”

  A frown marred the smooth tanned skin of his forehead. “What do you mean, other witnesses?”

  “Your boss, your colleagues—including the one who came forward with the initial complaint.”

  Declan’s eyes blazed. “A colleague? You’re shitting me? Who is it? Who’s the asshole that started all this bullshit? They’re who you should be looking at.”

  Chloe held his gaze, feeling genuinely contrite. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Agent Munro. If charges are laid and it goes before a court, naturally you and your lawyer will be given access to all of the evidence against you. Until then, the identity of the primary witness will remain confidential.” She glanced at her watch and noted the time.

  “It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Unless you have any further questions, this interview will now be suspended. Please remain within close proximity of your usual address so that you can be contacted, if necessary. If you have to leave Canberra for any reason, you will need to let me know. Agent Munro, do you understand?”

  He shot her a blistering look, his lips white with tension, but gave her a tight nod. She gathered the papers on her desk and put them back into the file.

  “I suggest you call a lawyer or at the very least, talk to someone in our legal department,” she added. “I don’t need to remind you these allegations are serious.”

  “Are we done?”

  She nodded brusquely. “For now. I’ll be in touch.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Declan stumbled toward the elevators that loomed a lifetime away down the hall, his head buzzing. Unauthorized…witnesses…charges…lawyers…evidence.

  Fuck! How the hell had his life spiraled out of control so quickly? After his conversation with Gary, he’d spent the rest of Friday wandering aimlessly through Civic in a shocked daze. Over the weekend, he’d looked at possible scenarios from every angle he could think of and before the interview, he’d convinced himself that he’d blown the whole incident out of proportion and that it would be sorted out with an apology and a handshake within minutes of his meeting with the IA officer. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  When he’d first spied the hot-looking investigator through the Perspex window, he’d even thought he’d be able to charm her into dropping the whole thing. The sensible navy jacket and skirt did nothing to conceal her shapely legs or the generous cleavage he’d glimpsed through the opening of her shirt.

  The frown as she’d stared down at the notes in her file had only emphasized her high cheekbones and when she’d caught her full bottom lip between those even, white teeth, despite the seriousness of his predicament, his body had stirred.

  But it had quickly become obvious she meant business. Even still, he’d been confident the truth would eventually win out. But now she was talking about laying charges…

  Christ. Panic spiked at the edges of his consciousness and he brutally forced it back. Punching the ‘down’ button on the wall at the elevators, he drew in a deep breath. He had to remain calm, keep a clear head and think things through.

  He had to call Clayton.

  Pulling his phone out of his shirt pocket, he switched it off silent and dialed Clayton’s number. He prayed his brother would answer and he sighed with relief when he did.

  “Clayton, thank Christ I caught you.” Tripping over his words, he gave Clayton a brief, jumbled explanation. Gratitude flooded through him when his brother replied without hesitation.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  * * *

  Declan answered the front door of his apartment and returned his brother’s handshake.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly, Clay. I appreciate it.”

  Clayton’s expression was somber. “Anytime, mate. I know you’d do the same for me. In fact, you have.”

  Declan’s lips compressed, his thoughts full of the Clayton of six years ago, who’d mourned his wife’s suicide. Declan was pleased to note there were no signs of that devastation now. The passage of time and Clayton’s new wife, Ellie, had everything to do with that.

  “How are Ellie and the kids?” he asked.

  A soft smile tilted Clayton’s mouth. “Great. They’re great. Olivia’s getting bigger and bossier by the day. Mitchell turned four last month and thinks he rules the house and Damon… What can I say? You were over at our place a few weeks ago. You saw him. He’s twelve months old and into everything. This morning he pulled all the trash out of the bin and tossed it all over the kitchen. He’s driving us all nuts.” Clayton shook his head. “And Ellie keeps telling me she wants another.”

  Declan chuckled and stood aside to let his brother enter. “You love every minute of it,” he said, a little wistfully.

  “Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

  Declan pushed aside thoughts of the wife and children he didn’t have, and started making coffee. His state-of-the-art machine had two steaming hot mugs of black brew ready in minutes. He handed a mug to Clayton.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” Declan said and took a sip of his coffee.

  After taking a couple of quick gulps, Clayton set his mug aside. Leaning back against the black granite countertop, he folded his arms across his chest and looked Declan squarely in the eye.

  “All right, big brother, hit me with it. Your garbled explanation over the phone made my head spin. I’m still not sure I heard you right. I want you to start at the beginning and tell me what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into?”

  Declan’s shoulders slumped. All at once, the pressure of the past few days caught up with him. He needed someone to offload onto. Someone who wouldn’t judge. Someone who would understand.

  Declan might have been the older by three years, but Clayton had been an AFP agent for more than a decade. Declan both valued and respected his opinion.

  “I’m in the shit, Clay. Christ knows how I got here. That’s completely beyond me at the moment, but I need help and I need it fast.”

  Concern creased the folds around Clayton’s eyes. “What the hell’s going on, Dec?”

  Declan turned and paced the length of the open-plan kitchen and living room. The stylishly appointed apartment boasted impressive views across Lake Burley Griffin, but he hardly registered the sparkling brilliance of the early spring sunshine as it bounced off the clear, wind-rippled water.

  Starting at the beginning, he told Clayton about the accusation, then of the shock, the confusion, the disbelief and the anger when Gary Julian’s words had sunk in.

  He told him how he’d wracked his brains over the weekend following his meeting in his boss’ office, trying to figure out who could be responsible, but had come up with nothing. And then he told Clayton about Senior Investigator Sabattini.

  “Christ, Declan,” Clayton muttered, running a hand through the disheveled length of his blond hair. “Who the hell would do something like this?”

  Declan laughed humorlessly. “I’ve spent the last seventy-five hours or so asking the same thing and I still come up blank.”

  “Why didn’t you call me earlier? I can’t believe you’ve carried it around with you all this time.”

  Declan shook his head, his lips compressed. “I thought it would blow over. I know darn well I didn’t do it. I assumed I’d meet with IA, set the record straight and be back at work in the morning. Never in my wildest dreams did I see it panning out this way.”

  Clayton pushed himself away from the kitchen countertop and went to stand near the floor-to-ceiling glass doors that led out onto the balcony. He gazed out at the view, but showed no signs of seeing the sparkling display from the lake below. Moments later, he spun on his heel to face Declan. “What about now? Have you called any of the others? Brandon? Tom? Riley?”

  Declan shook his head.

  “Tell me you’ve at least told Mom and Dad?”

  “No, you’re the first one to know. Like I said, u
p until now, I thought it would be resolved at the first meeting. When the IA investigator mentioned talking to other witnesses before she wrote her report, I started to panic. That’s why I called you. You’ve been in the AFP longer than any of us. Besides, you live in the same town.”

  “You need a lawyer. I’ll call the family. They’ll want to know what’s going on.”

  Declan opened his mouth to protest, but Clayton waved him off. “They’re your family, your mom and dad. Wouldn’t you want to know if it was one of your kids?”

  “I don’t have any kids.”

  Clayton ignored him. “We need a lawyer from Sydney. The best there is. Tom and Brandon will know who to call. Sydney’s their turf. And that’s before we talk to Dad about calling in a few favors.”

  Clayton tugged out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. Declan eased out his breath, already feeling better than he had since he’d been given the news. He moved back toward the kitchen and collected his mug from where he’d left it on the counter. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Taking a slug of coffee, he checked the caller ID and then answered the call.

  “Charlie, how are things?”

  “Shit, mate, what’s going on? I can’t believe it. The things they’re all saying at the office… That IA’s all over you. I won’t believe it. I told them all to shut the fuck up. I wanted you to know I’m here for you, mate. If there’s anything I can do…”

  Declan puffed out his breath on a heavy sigh and took another mouthful of coffee.

  “Thanks, mate. I appreciate it. And thanks for the vote of confidence. I thought after working with those other blokes for more than a year, they’d know me better than that, but apparently not. I guess you never can tell.”

  “Well, as some poor bastard said, ‘It’s when you’re down that you find out who your true friends are.’”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Declan replied with a grimace.

  “I mean it, mate. If there’s anything I can do…”

  “Yeah, thanks. Do you fancy hitting a bar on the foreshore tonight? I know it’s the beginning of the week, but right now, all I want to do is get good and drunk and forget I ever heard of IA.”

  Images of the good-looking investigator immediately came to the forefront of Declan’s mind.

  Too bad she worked for the enemy. He hadn’t felt such interest in a girl since Alice and he broke up.

  Not that he’d had much practise, lately. He’d given the whole dating scene a miss for the past year. Having the girl you thought you’d one day call your wife run off with a work colleague could do that.

  It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been plenty of offers, but most of them had come from female officers he worked with and he’d always had a rule about mixing business with pleasure. It was fine when things were going well, but it all got too messy when the relationship went south.

  But little Miss IA had sparked enough interest that under different circumstances he could almost see himself breaking his rule.

  Declan shook his head and scoffed.

  Who was he kidding? She was enemy number one—a woman to be avoided at all costs. He was grateful when Charlie accepted his invitation and his thoughts moved to the much safer ground of when and where they would meet and seek to eradicate the last few days.

  * * *

  Chip stood before him in the dimness of the Master’s office and delivered his update in a voice shaky with nerves. The Master chuckled silently, his generous girth jiggling with the effort.

  He loved their fear. The boy was past thirty, yet still he feared him. The sound and scent of it excited him, made him hard with wanting.

  The sun had long ago vanished from the sky and the traffic outside the window had been reduced to a sporadic hum. The heavy, dark drapes had been drawn against the oncoming night, cocooning him in secrecy and warmth.

  “And so it begins,” he murmured under his breath.

  The younger man’s recital came to an end and the Master clapped his hands softly.

  “Good job, boy. You’ve done well.”

  “Th-thank you, Master. I-I like to please you.”

  The Master chuckled again. “Oh, I like you to please me, too. I like it very much.”

  He pushed away from the enormous slab of cedar that formed his desk and eased his bulk from the chair. He made his way around the front of the desk and sauntered toward the tall, locked cabinet that stood on the opposite wall.

  Chip’s eyes widened with excitement and his cheeks grew flushed.

  With great exaggeration, the Master jiggled around in the pocket of his suit pants and pulled out a key, which he fitted into the lock of the cupboard. From the corner of his eye, he saw the younger man shift his weight from foot to foot. The Master’s cock stirred to life.

  He retrieved the black leather riding crop from the cabinet and closed and relocked the door. Slapping the side of his leg with the stiff piece of leather, he turned and moved closer to Chip.

  “Take off your shirt, boy and get down on your knees. It’s time for your reward.”

  Chip hurried to comply and the Master positioned himself in front of the man’s waiting mouth. He eased the zipper over his swollen cock and pulled his erection out of his underwear. He swiped the tip of it across Chip’s lips.

  Chip moaned and opened his mouth and the Master thrust all the way inside.

  “Do what you do best, boy.”

  Chip complied. The Master tensed with pleasure. He raised the crop and ran it lovingly over the other man’s back. The boy’s naked skin glowed palely in the dim light. Chip shivered and renewed his efforts.

  “Ah, that’s it, boy, that’s it. You know so well how to please me. Keep it up and you’ll be in charge of your own Area Command before you know it.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Chloe glanced at the bedside clock and sighed. It was a little after six, barely early enough for the sun to rise over the hills in the distance. She still had a couple of hours before she had to leave for work. It was a shame she’d woken so early. The only good thing about it was that she’d have time to call her mother.

  Reaching across the double bed, she scrabbled for the telephone and dialed her mother’s number. Giovanna Sabattini answered on the second ring.

  “What are you calling so early for, bambina? I thought I was the only one who got up before the sun?”

  Chloe smiled and settled herself back against the pillows. “Now, Mama, don’t be like that. I woke early and thought I’d call you. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Her mother tsk tsked on the other end of the phone, but Chloe could tell she was pleased. Ever since Chloe had been promoted to senior investigator, calls to her mother had been squeezed into the tiny slivers of time she had between work matters. It had been weeks since they’d had a decent chat and even longer since she’d gone home for a family dinner.

  Guilt shot through her at the thought. It wasn’t as though her parents lived interstate. They were less than half an hour away, in Queanbeyan. She had no excuse. Other than the one that she kept repeating to her mother every time the conversation came up and which happened to be true: She was far too busy at work.

  “How are you, bambina?” her mother asked and Chloe felt warm inside knowing her mother really wanted to know.

  “I’m all right, Mama. Busy, you know.”

  “Work, work, work. That’s all you ever do. You won’t find a man that way, bambina.”

  Chloe sighed and braced herself for the usual, well-meaning tirade. Her mother didn’t disappoint.

  “When I was your age, I’d been married for nearly a decade. I had three children under eight and another one on the way.”

  Chloe had heard it all before and knew her protestations fell on deaf ears, but she made them anyway.

  “Mama, I’m only thirty. That’s hardly geriatric. And I have a career. A very successful career. Right now, I need to put my energies into that if I want it to continue to flourish.”

 
“Oh, pooh to a career! How is a career going to keep you warm at night, bambina? Or give you babies? It’s time you started putting your energies into that! And who’s going to give me more grandbabies?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Mama, between Cathy, Carlo and Antonella, you already have ten grandbabies. How many more do you want?”

  “I want your granbabies, bambina. I don’t want you to get to be an old woman and look back and regret you don’t have any. And that’s what will happen, bambina. You mark my words! It’s time you found yourself a husband. Even better if he’s a nice strong Italian boy. A man who will do your family proud.”

  “Yes, Mama. You’re right. I’ll go right out now and find one. I can probably Google “Italian husband hunt” on the Internet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it already. Thank you, Mama. You’re always right.”

  Chloe’s answer was met with suspicious silence. She tried to hold back a giggle but failed.

  “Chloe Maria Sabattini! You are a naughty, naughty girl! You shouldn’t say such awful things to your mama. If I was over there now I would turn you over my knee. It’s exactly what you deserve!”

  Chloe laughed harder and swiped at the tears that formed in the corner of her eyes.

  “Oh, Mama! You’re exactly what I need. Thank you for brightening up my day!”

  “Humph!”

  “No, Mama, I mean it. I have a tough interview ahead of me and I’m grateful that you’ve managed to take my mind off it.”

  Her mother’s voice sobered. “Are you okay, bambina? Are you eating right?”

  Chloe thought of Agent Munro and the way he’d looked at her right before he’d stormed out. In a few short hours, she’d be interviewing the man who’d reported the incidents. A man who, according to the file, Agent Munro had previously called “friend.”

  * * *

  The AFP headquarters was situated in the Edmund Barton building on the edge of the Parliamentary Triangle. A short drive away on the Hill sat Parliament House, an impressive example of modern architecture where life-changing decisions were often made on a daily basis.