Zara's Game

by Jo Black

  ‘What exactly is it you found out?’

  ‘No proof yet. That’s where you come in. How do you want to be judged in history Bishop? Disgraced C.I.A Agent turned thief, blackmailed by his stripper junkie’s under-age daughter to cover up a sex scandal, then running off with seized funds to hide out with Castro, doing god knows what to the local schoolgirls? Or let back into the big house, under a new lord, having done his bit to uphold the constitution and remove someone from office who dragged the nation into the abyss by creating enemies from billions of Muslims. You have a chance at atonement Bishop. I don’t blame you for taking the money, they burned you, and you took your chance to survive. I’d have done the same thing. But don’t you want to get the guys who did it to you? Don’t you want to go home, and be a free man?’

  ‘What makes you think you can stop it?’

  ‘We can’t. It’s too big for that. But what we can do is make sure they’re answerable in the court of public opinion for the lies they will tell, and the mess they will create, and ensure they are judged for the blood they spill on the way. Then next time the American people go to the ballot box they’ll give pause for thought as to what kind of person they want in that office.’

  ‘Always the skilled manipulator Zara, tug at that those patriotic strings.’

  ‘You’re not dirty Bishop, maybe you lie to yourself so you sleep better at night, that you don’t give a fuck, none of it matters, you got paid, fuck them. But you watched those people jump out those office towers the same as I did, and it made you just as angry, because you knew they were innocent. Just simple folk trying to get by in life. And you did the job you did so folk like that can lead honest decent lives without fear of tyranny. Terrorism comes in many forms Bishop, the one we are most blind to is political terrorism, it doesn’t blow up when you put your ticket in the ballot box, it just spreads like a cancer. Eating away all the good until there’s nothing left. If they do this, then what will they do next? Emboldened. Iran? Syria? Pakistan? Russia? They won’t stop, men like that can’t. One is convinced he’s on a moral crusade, and the other is a degenerate simpleton in the pocket of the hawks and war profiteers. How do the American people benefit from watching the world descend into anarchy? Doesn’t help McDonald’s bottom line when it’s the customers being flame grilled not the burgers. That money you took, that’s blood money. Remember your little speech to poor old Ben and his dipshit girlfriend? That money was paid for by every one of those police officers, fire-fighters, and office workers with their lives. This villa, it’s a fucking memorial to the citizens of New York who died in the World Trade Centre. How can you sleep at night with those thousands of voices screaming out at you?’

  ‘Okay! I get the message! Assuming I give it you, what will you do with it?’

  ‘I’ll make sure that it’s spent preventing people using that event to send more American boys to their graves in the desert to suit their own nefarious ambitions. I can’t stop Iraq, but we can stop Iran, we can stop Syria, Libya, and the whole deck of cards beyond. If that money saves American Marines, Rangers, troopers, men whose patriotism to the American people means they will lay down their lives in their belief of democracy and American civil liberties, if it prevents their deaths for a dishonest war of profit, so billionaire capitalists can line their pockets, as those families put their boys in the ground, then that money, that was paid for by those New Yorkers lives, is money better spent than anything this administration will fund. And one day the American people will know you stood guard over liberty, and did the right thing. You might not get a fancy villa in Cuba. But you will get peace of mind, and maybe they’ll build a fucking library for you somewhere. Might not let you in the kiddies section for obvious reasons but...’

  Bishop nodded. He got up and left the room. Zara looked after him then at Nish. ‘After that speech he’s probably gone to blow his brains out. Christ Zara, you really know how to make a guy feel good about himself,’ Nish said and shook his head with a depressed sigh.

  Zara shrugged. ‘What did you offer him?’

  ‘Life spent in a Siberian gulag.’

  ‘And you’re surprised he didn’t chew your hand off at the chance? Jesus Nish, work on your negotiating skills for fucks sake...’

  Bishop returned with his laptop. ‘You have a numbered account?’ Zara took out a piece of paper and slid it across the table. Bishop seemed slightly ashamed. He spoke quietly. ‘There isn’t the full one-twenty million, I had some expenses to pay here, paying people off...the house.’

  ‘I’m sure New Yorkers won’t mind in light of the taxpayers not honouring your severance agreement and pension plan. I don’t want to leave you living in a box and pissing in a bin Bishop. I’ll just take my sixty million.’

  ‘What about the rest?’

  ‘Do what you want with it. Start a charitable foundation for under-age sex abuse victims or some shit.’

  Bishop logged into his online account. He made the transfer then slid the laptop to Zara to confirm. ‘Satisfied?’

  ‘Thank you Bishop. You’re a filthy pervert, but an honest filthy pervert.’

  ‘You really know how to pay a compliment Zara. So, your husband made certain assurances if I gave him the dossier he’d take care of things.’

  ‘I’m still somewhat vexed with you that you didn’t do it without coercion.’ Bishop shrugged sheepishly. ‘You won’t be getting a Christmas card this year Bishy. Consider yourself on the naughty list.’

  ‘So all that stuff you said, you believe it? Or are you just manipulating me, like you always do.’

  ‘I don’t know Bish. It’s not a question of what I think is it? Maybe you care, maybe you don’t. I’m not here to judge you, it’s you who has to sleep soundly at night.’

  ‘And what about you? How do you sleep with the devil in your bed?’

  ‘Is that who you think he is?’ Zara laughed. ‘Oh Bishop! He’s got you all fooled hasn’t he? But maybe that’s the devil’s greatest trick. The master of deception. Maybe I’m the one who is being fooled. Tell me Nish, is Alex the devil?’

  ‘I don’t know, if he’s the antichrist, I don’t know what that makes me.’

  ‘I’ll let you into a secret Bishop, between spies. He’s not the devil. He may well be the Angel of Death, I don’t think even Alex would realise if he was, but whilst his means may terrify, I believe his purpose is for the greater good.’ Zara got up and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Or he could just be a bloodthirsty mercenary like all the rest. History will be the judge. Good luck Bishop, enjoy your retirement here if the Cubans don’t lock you up for your kiddyfiddling.’ Zara headed for the door.

  ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ Nish said. ‘You’ve made good our deal. Alex will honour his side. As the little lady said, Enjoy your retirement you filthy fuck.’

  ‘Are we done now?’

  ‘We’re done.’

  ‘Good. Please don’t ever come back.’

  ‘Come on. No hard feelings. Take you out for a beer one day. Pick up some teenagers...’ Nish winked and headed to the door.

  Nish got into the car with Zara. They headed out of the gate. ‘Airport,’ Zara told the driver.

  ‘We not stopping for a trip round Havana? We came all this way...’

  ‘If you want to go to a brothel Nish, do it on your own time. I’ve got a schedule to keep. Get the pilot on the phone.’

  ‘Where we going next?’

  ‘Paris. I need to pick up your new client.’

  Nish took out his phone. ‘It’s Nish. File a flight plan for Paris. Wheels up in thirty, we’re on our way.’ He put the phone down.

  48

  Vincent was waiting at the V.I.P terminal as the Challenger 604 pulled onto the apron. The steps came down and Nish came out followed by Zara. Vincent walked over to greet them, shouting to be heard as the twin turbofans spooled down. ‘I’m glad to see you Zara,’ Vincent said.

  ‘You too Vincent, I hear I owe you my gratitude for helping Alex get me back.’<
br />
  ‘No gratitude needed Zara, I know you would do the same for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry this isn’t just a social call Vincent, as you can imagine we have a lot of unfinished business.’

  ‘I understand Zara, saving the world always comes before having a glass of wine with an old friend who misses you.’

  ‘We’ll have time for that one day.’

  ‘So what brings you to Paris?’

  ‘I need to see Hunter.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘He is getting better. We have some good doctors looking after him.’

  ‘And the cancer?’

  ‘It is in remission, we have bought him more time, but sadly I believe it is now borrowed.’

  ‘How’s he taking it?’

  ‘He is Hunter, how do you think?’

  Vincent opened the rear passenger door of the waiting car. Zara and Nish got in the back. The car sped off with a police motorcycle outrider convoy in front and to the rear. As they reached the gate, the sirens and blue lights started. They cut a path quickly through the traffic from the airport to downtown Paris, arriving at the safe house in The Golden Triangle some forty minutes later.

  Zara made her way up to the first floor followed by Nish and Vincent. One of Vincent’s men, posted to guard the door, let them in. The maid took their coats and showed them through to the grand salon where Hunter was sat on a sofa reading a copy of Le Monde newspaper.

  ‘You got time for an old friend?’ Zara asked as she walked into the room. Hunter put down the paper, he looked round in surprise. Zara’s smile fell slightly as she saw how frail and old looking the normally bull like Hunter had become.

  ‘Zara. Well I’ll be damned! I wasn’t expecting you...at all really.’ Hunter struggled to his feet and walked over. He stared at Zara. His face folded into a soft warm smile. ‘It’s good to see you back safe.’ Zara embraced Hunter in a warm hug, he did his best to suppress a tear, but they leaked out involuntarily. She released him and looked at him.

  ‘Bit of dust in here, eh Hunter?’

  ‘Yeah, irritates the eyes.’

  ‘Alex had the same problem.’

  ‘The Dragon has tears? That I would like to see.’

  ‘He’s a little chicken really.’

  ‘Somehow I doubt that.’

  ‘Here, I got you something. Don’t tell the doctors.’ Zara passed a small bottle of scotch to Hunter.

  ‘Bless your heart Zara. You make an old man fed a diet of blended wheatgrass and fuck knows what very happy. Come on, let’s sit down.’ Hunter returned to the sofa followed by Zara.

  ‘I owe you my life.’

  ‘No, that was all Alex’s doing. I just shook a couple of trees. I felt bad I couldn’t do more, I was on my way to Paris when, thanks to our old friend in the Edgware Road’s exuberance, I found out I was past due.’

  ‘You did more than enough. You told him where to look, you know that’s all he needed.’

  ‘How are things? With him?’

  ‘We’re good,’ Zara said warmly. ‘When you go to hell, all the trivial little things just burn in the fire. If you come back you don’t remember why any of them mattered, you just remember what kept you from burning.’

  ‘He’s making you happy?’

  ‘You know me...’ Zara grinned. ‘I antagonise him too much.’

  ‘Well, the world didn’t end in a nuclear apocalypse, so I guess he kept his temper in check at least a little. Is he right for you Zara? I do know you have a thing for those naughty boys, but...’

  ‘Yes Dad.’

  ‘Just looking out for my protégé.’

  ‘I’m sure. He’s not who you think he is.’

  ‘People rarely are.’

  ‘He’s a good man.’

  ‘As long as he is a good man to you, I guess that’s all that matters.’

  ‘I think we’ll be okay. We’ve both grown up. So what about you?’

  ‘They say I’m on the mend. Still feel like shit. Getting bored to tears sitting around this place all day. It’s a very stylish Gallic prison.’

  ‘Vincent’s just worried about you, with good reason, there’s a lot going on.’

  ‘There usually is.’

  ‘I need your help.’

  ‘Not sure what I can do in my state, but you know that I’ll always do anything I can for you.’

  ‘You know what’s going on?’

  ‘Only the bullshit that snake Gilad ben David fed me. I’m guessing you have some interesting tales to tell.’

  ‘On the jet.’

  ‘The jet...my my Mrs Green, he is treating you well. So...’

  ‘I know Vincent’s been taking good care of you, not only can you be useful but I’d like to take better care of you. You should be with friends Hunter. Not sat here in Paris on your own. And the climate will be better for you.’

  ‘I take it we’re not going to Russia then?’

  ‘No...it seems Alex has had a falling out with the King in the Red Castle.’

  ‘Lover’s quarrel. They’ll make it up. They always do. You know Russians. Beat each other to death, don’t speak a word to each other for years then sit crying how much they love each other after a bottle of vodka. So the other thing?’

  ‘Alex needs a client to act. I have the money.’

  ‘You caught up with Bishop then, how did you get him to pay?’

  ‘Reminded him that the American constitution wasn’t written for the exclusive benefit of N.Y.S.E stockholders and politicians, but the American people.’

  ‘Good angle.’

  ‘I need to get the intel, but more importantly I need an arm’s length client. Someone with the guts to stand up to all these people and do what’s right, but isn’t afraid of the consequences of being held accountable.’ Hunter smiled. ‘I wouldn’t ask, but what they did to us, you know how hard we worked. And this is your legacy.’

  ‘You don’t need to use your feminine wiles on me Zara. You got me at hello...’ Hunter blushed. Zara smiled and kissed Hunter.

  ‘You’re a good man Hunter. It breaks my heart.’

  ‘Don’t be sad honey. I had a good run. God knows I’ve been spared enough times through luck of the Irish. I was long overdue.’

  ‘Still doesn’t seem fair, good men are hard to find, we can’t afford to lose the ones we have.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can until the job is done, or I am. You know that.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s why it had to be you.’

  ‘Besides, anything to get out of this place.’ Hunter dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I think the housekeeper fancies her chances.’

  ‘Maybe you should.’

  ‘Don’t even go there...’

  ‘We better sneak you out then.’

  ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘I need something from The Frenchman. I would ask, but I’m on instructions from Alex not to get my hand caught in the cookie jar again, and you know that double-dealing frog will sell my interest out the minute I ask.’

  ‘You tell me what you need and I’ll get it.’

  ‘I’d send Nish to look after you, but then he’ll know Alex is involved.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I can deal with Dufort.’

  ‘Okay. We’ll wait for you with the jet. Then we can kidnap you,’ Zara said with a wink.

  Hunter smiled. ‘Thank you Zara.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For making an old sick man feel useful again.’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish Hunter. There’s life in you yet. Just take it easy on that medicine I gave you.’

  49

  Hunter exited the metro station at Barbes. He made his way up the hill to the street below Sacre-Coeur before travelling along the narrow cobbled lane to the corner bar. He pushed through the busy crowd of late-night locals filling the small room to reach the back corridor into the small toilet. He put a Euro in the payphone, punched in a number and listened to a recorded message
before putting the phone back down; he pushed back through to the bar and got the barman’s attention. He ordered a double vodka shot, paid, drank it, and then checked his watch before returning outside. He checked up and down the street before heading up the steep cobbled street, turning right into a narrower street winding its way to the west approach of Sacre-Coeur. It was late in the evening, and in the early chill of winter there were few tourists around, mostly locals taking a shortcut to the tall apartment buildings that ran down the back of the village into the cheaper suburbs beyond. Hunter made his way into the church. Under the dim lights, he studied the few visitors before he lit a candle, put a few folded Euros in the collection box and then sat down on one of the benches in a shadowed corner. He studied the program of service before closing his eyes, putting his head forward and hands together in prayer. Despite his deteriorated condition his field craft detected the movement from the arrival of someone behind him, and the slight creak of the old wood bench as it took the new arrival’s weight. The voice spoke softly. ‘It is usually when we are closest to the end of a journey that we start to consider what the destination might be like. Consider a last minute change in direction that may spare us from going the wrong way, or to find a route to somewhere better.’

  Hunter’s eyes opened. ‘I usually just rely on the map.’

  ‘Alas, sometimes the map is out of date. The road is not always open, or we find it blocked. Tell me, I’m curious. Are you here for answers, redemption, or simply revenge.’

  ‘Enlightenment. You have information. I’m looking to buy.’

  ‘Of course, but to what purpose?’

  ‘Why is it whenever you ask me a question, I feel like you are simply looking for answers to restock your shelves?’

  There was a soft laugh in response. ‘All information has value, does it not? To someone. Even the knowledge that someone is seeking something is information that has value, if you understand why they seek it.’