by J. P. Lane
“I can’t discuss it with you or anyone else. It’s not something I can talk about – ever. I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to appeal to you to do something you did not do for me, and that is trust me,” Logan said taking a deep breath. “Nothing you say will leave this room. You have my word on that.”
She gazed out the window with a tormented look. For a while it seemed as though she had forgotten he was there. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I believe you were involved. It has to do with my trip to London. I went there to deliver a package.”
Logan stiffened. He had already figured that out a long time ago, but why she had connected the package to him was a matter of great concern. “Why would you think a package you delivered had anything to do with me or the assassination?” he asked. “What did it contain?”
“I have no idea what was in it, except for a check exceeding the U.K. currency limit. It was necessary for me to be forewarned about that.” Misreading the intensity of his gaze, she said, “I know you must think me a fool, but I trusted the person who asked me to make the delivery implicitly. I would never have dreamed they were involved in something underhanded.”
“I still don’t understand why you think this had anything to do with me.”
She hesitated, knowing she was already treading on dangerous ground. Deciding it was too late to retrench, she said, “When I got back from London, I went to see the person who asked me to make the delivery. When I arrived at their house, they were on the phone. They were so engrossed in conversation they didn’t know I’d arrived. I’m ashamed to say I eavesdropped on them, but something they said caught my attention. I overheard them ask the person they were talking with to make sure someone in New York knew the London delivery had been made, or words to that effect. Even though they had no reason to think anyone was listening, they were careful not to mention names. But what made me think they were referring to you is they wanted to know what the person in New York thought about the suspicion surrounding their brother-in-law’s shipping company.”
“I understand why you would have made that connection, but I’m not the only person in the country who has an in-law in shipping.”
“That’s true, but how many of them live in New York?”
Logan had no answer. “And where does Frank Sterling fit into this in your mind?” he asked uneasily.
“I figured with everything that has unfolded recently, it had to have been him the person was talking to.”
No, it was not Frank Sterling Margaret Thomas had been talking with, Logan well knew. It was Allan, but there was no way of Lauren knowing that. Logan clasped his hands as he surveyed her face. Lauren had just pulled the rug from under him, but she had yet to explain why she thought the package had something to do with Freeman’s death. “What you’ve told me still doesn’t explain why you connected the package with the assassination,” he said.
Lauren met his gaze. With a deep breath, she decided to take the final plunge. She needed closure. She needed to hear the truth – from him. Perhaps by hearing her truth, he would share his.
“The man who I delivered the package to was the same man who killed Erick Freeman,” she at last said.
Logan’s chest tightened. “Why would you think it was the same person?”
“This is going to sound irrelevant I know, but it’s very relevant. The man I met in London was extremely good looking. What stood out about him most were his eyes. I’ve never seen eyes like his. They were like clear amber. But it wasn’t just his looks. He was the whole package.”
“What has that got to do with it?” Logan cut in agitatedly.
“Here’s what it has to do with it. Chief Inspector Palmer had mentioned it was possible the shots had been fired from the Foster & Foster building. I don’t think he had shared that information with any other media at the time, so I wanted to beat everybody else to it. The morning following the assassination, I went to Foster & Foster to see if the staff had seen anything unusual. The only person who was able to speak with me was the receptionist. It was what she had to say that made me realize it was the same man.”
There was visible alarm in Logan’s eyes. “What was it that she said?”
“She told me there had been an overseas client there just before the Prime Minister was killed. Her description of this client fitted the man I met in London down to a tee – his height, color of hair, haircut, the unusual amber eyes.”
It seemed inconceivable to Logan that the man who had hidden himself behind an impenetrable wall of go-betweens had revealed himself to a courier. It was highly unlikely he would have been so careless. Lauren had to be mistaken. Besides, she had not seen the man who visited Foster & Foster herself, so how could she be sure it had been the same man? She was relying on a description given to her by the receptionist. He turned to her and said as much.
“I would say you had a point, Logan – except for one thing. How many people have amber eyes? Have you ever seen anyone with eyes that color? I hadn’t until I met him. It would be a remarkable coincidence if it had been two different men. Aside from that, her description of the man was explicit.”
“You were also convinced there was a connection between Frank Sterling and me. You were mistaken about that. How can you be so sure you’re right about this? Did he even have the same name as the man in London?”
“No, he didn’t have the same name, but it’s doubtful he would have used his real one. But the description the receptionist gave isn’t the only reason I think he is the same person. I learned from the C.I.D. he’s a suspect. They say no one at Foster & Foster had ever heard of him prior to him making an appointment with David Foster for that day. Evidently he came out of nowhere and vanished into thin air. Even with the help of INTERPOL and Scotland Yard, the C.I.D. haven’t been able to track him down.”
Logan’s pulse throbbed in his head. “Have you shared what you know with the C.I.D.?” he asked with trepidation.
“No, Logan, I can never share this with anybody.” Her voice cracked. “The great irony is that it would have been the biggest story of my career. I’ll just never be able to write it – for obvious reasons. You could say I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.” Tears came to her eyes. “It was the same man, Logan. You’d have a long way to go to try and convince me otherwise. Anyway, now you see why I believe you were part of it.”
Logan got up heavily and walked over to the window. He gazed out at the mountains now largely shadowed by the deep purple hues of evening, the occasional scar of development subdued in the dimming light. Somewhere up there was his cottage, though he could not see it from where he stood in Lauren’s living room looking out the window in a quandary. One thing he knew: he could not have Lauren believing he was a criminal. He had done it for his country, her country. But in defending himself, he would be forced into admitting he played a part. There was something else to consider. If he told Lauren the truth, would he be opening a can of worms? She obviously already knew about Margaret Thomas, but she did not know about Allan and John Boyd. There could be no crack left open that would lead her to discover their involvement. He battled inwardly for a long while before he made a clumsy effort at exonerating himself. “There’s something I need to explain, Lauren. Sometimes people are called upon to do things they find unpalatable, but often those things are for the overall good.”
Lauren knew what was coming, but she dreaded hearing it, now it was about to be voiced. She realized even with everything she knew, she had been clinging to the hope it wasn’t true.
“Essentially, you’re accusing me of something I didn’t do,” Logan said haltingly.
“What are you saying?” Lauren asked, hanging on for all she was worth to the last thread of hope.
“My motive, your aunt’s motive, was not what you think it was.”
Lauren looked as though she had been slapped across the face. Speechless, she gaped at him.
“I’ve known for
a while – ever since you first told me you’d been to London.”
“You knew about that? Dear God. You’ve been stringing me along the whole time. You’re a monster!”
“Lauren,” he said reaching for her. He held her shoulders firmly as he pleaded, “Please, listen to what I have to say before jumping to conclusions again.”
“Take your hands off me! I’m not interested in hearing any more lies!” she cried tossing her head angrily.
“Look at me for God’s sake! It would have been madness for me to speak of such a thing. Surely you can understand that. But I can’t have you thinking I killed someone for personal gain. It would have been better if I remained silent, but I find it unbearable that you think that of me. And your aunt, the person who asked you to deliver the package, does not deserve such condemnation either. Neither of us are criminals.”
Lauren slumped back on the sofa. Her whole body went limp.
“It had to be done,” Logan said quietly. “There was no choice.”
It was with difficulty that Lauren found her voice. “So it was you who was responsible for the money I delivered to London? You were the one who paid him?”
“Yes.”
“And what about the check I picked up?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know him?”
“No. I have no idea who he is. He’s very elusive. I was stunned to hear he showed his face to you.”
Hardly able to continue talking, she asked, “How can you justify what you did?”
Indignation sparked in Logan’s eyes again. “There are certain things you know nothing about, Lauren. Believe me when I tell you what you unearthed as a journalist was the tip of the iceberg. The situation in this country was worse than you can imagine. It had reached the point where there was so much vice and corruption nothing could be done about it, not without getting rid of Freeman who, as it happens, was planning to get rid of your aunt and other members of his cabinet who opposed him. And in case my meaning isn’t clear, what I’m saying is Erick Freeman was planning to have your aunt killed.”
“I can’t see that as a justification for murder,” she said feebly. “What about the due process of law? Are you trying to tell me there was no other option? What about indictment? Wouldn’t that have been the civilized course of action to take? It’s murder, Logan, or are you not able to see that!”
“No it’s not murder, Lauren,” he countered heatedly. “It’s assassination, revolution, war, call it what you will. They’re all the same. Until mankind can evolve into a more noble state of being, I’m afraid we’re stuck with blood on our hands. Would it have been murder to kill Hitler if he didn’t do the world a favor and take care of it himself?”
Spent from the ordeal, he threw himself in the chair opposite her. “You may find some level of comfort sitting there on the judge’s bench screaming bloody murder, but don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming when you took it on.”
Lauren gasped.
Mercilessly, he ploughed on. “Are you trying to tell me someone of your intelligence did not question the reason behind your little adventure in London? What is it you thought you were carrying? A diplomatic pouch? You’re being a total hypocrite! You knew damned well you were involved in something highly covert and in all probability subversive!”
“Don’t!” Lauren cried holding out her hand to stop him. “Don’t say any more!” She closed her eyes trembling.
Logan reined himself in. He buried his face in his hands then looked up at her. “I know you didn’t know what you were involved in. I’m sorry for attacking you like that, but I couldn’t sit back and allow you to think what you were thinking. It was a difficult decision, Lauren, the most difficult decision any of us ever had to face. None of us is a murderer. We did it for this country. We had little choice.” A question appeared in her eyes, but he caught it, and before she had a chance to speak, he said, “I’ve told you something I vowed I would take to my grave. But what I will not divulge, and never will, is who the other parties were. Neither do I expect you to ever try and find out. You would do well to put this to rest – for my sake, for yours and for that of the country. For better or worse, what’s done is done. There’s nowhere to go but forward now.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Lauren glanced sideways at Logan. He was completely engrossed in the scenery below as the helicopter crossed the island on its way to the north coast. This bird’s eye view of the island never ceased to hold fascination for him. It was almost as though he could reach down and touch the mountains, their roll dotted here and there by the occasional banana grove and the rooftops of country huts, walls painted garish blue, yellow, pink, green. In the distance, the mid-morning sun, aided by a brisk breeze from the sea, sent shimmering ripples across sugar cane fields sweeping towards the distant shoreline.
Logan touched her on the shoulder pointing out something. Down there, in a valley snuggled between the mountains, rested generations of his family, he told her. His early forefathers had been among the first English landowners on the island. “That was back in 1670, little more than a decade after the English took the island from the Spanish,” he said with a hint of pride. Not wanting her to think he was bragging, he decided to leave it to Virginia to tell her the first Armstrong to arrive on the island had been awarded huge tracts of land in the south of the island after winning a sea victory against the French off the coast of Hispaniola. That first estate had been called Vineyard and Vale Verde, where he grew up, was a mere remnant of a distant past.
“I’d kill for this country,” he declared passionately as his eyes swept across the hills beneath them.
Lauren arched an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, tasteless remark,” he muttered with a self-depreciative smile. “Better watch my mouth.”
She squeezed his hand. “I forgive you, this time.”
“Does that mean you’ve recovered from the nasty shock?”
“I don’t think I’ll ever recover, but I’ve decided I’ll have to live with it,” she said straight-faced.
“Have you made-up with Margaret then?” he teased.
Lauren gave him a look. “I sent her flowers. She was very curious to know why I’d sent her flowers for no particular reason.”
“What explanation did you give?” Logan asked with curiosity.
“I told her they were just to say I forgave her for what she’d done.”
Logan’s smile quickly disappeared. “You didn’t say that, did you?”
“Of course not, silly,” she laughed. “I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine.” She nudged him playfully. “You know how to give it, but you can’t take it, uh?”
The helicopter had now started to descend and the mountains were giving way to the coastal plains. Lauren gazed at the approaching sea. It was particularly blue today, as if it was putting its best foot forward especially for them. “I used to go to the beach every weekend when I was younger,” she confided. “And every day during school holidays. I can spend hours in the water and never tire of it. I want to be buried at sea. Just cremate me and dump me in.”
“That’s a pretty morbid thought considering we’re flying off for a romantic getaway,” Logan laughed. “I hope that’s not something you plan on having anybody do for you in the near future.”
She laughed with him. “No, I have no plans to die right away. There’s still a whole life to be lived.”
“I’m glad you think that,” he said caressing her fingertips, “Because I would like to spend the rest of mine with you, and I intend to live for a very long time.”
They both spotted it at the same time, a huge stingray cruising along the reef. “It’s got to be at least nine feet,” Lauren said craning her neck to see it.
“It’s a pretty big one, though I don’t know about nine feet. Hard to tell from up here.”
At that moment, the helicopter banked and landed in an open lot next to Logan’s beach house. They waited for the whirlwind of prop wash from the r
otor to subside before jumping out.
“That was fast,” Lauren said breathlessly as they hurried out of range of the wash.
“That’s why I like traveling by helicopter,” he hollered over the sound of the prop. “Saves a lot of time when you’re in a hurry. I literally had to sneak out of Vale Verde to spend this time with you.”
Lauren’s face clouded. “Are you keeping me under wraps?” she asked, careful to sound as if she had meant it in jest.
“Of course I’m not keeping you under wraps,” he objected as he rang the doorbell. “It’s just that I felt a bit badly leaving Virginia at a time like this.”
“Are you sure it’s not because I’m no longer welcome there?” Lauren asked uncertainly.
“Don’t be silly,” he said putting his arm around her shoulder. It’s a bad time for Virginia, that’s all. I don’t want her to think I’m abandoning her.”
A surprised face greeted them at the door. “Hi Mildred, this is Miss Anderson,” Logan said escorting Lauren inside.
Mildred’s mouth opened and quickly closed again.
“Mildred looked a bit flustered. Wasn’t she expecting you?” Lauren asked as Logan escorted her inside.
“No, you came as a surprise,” Logan grinned. “But at least you being here will keep her on her toes. I don’t come here too often, so she’s on vacation ninety percent of the time, if not more. Come, our room’s this way.”
Logan threw himself on the bed with his arms behind his head.
“Aren’t you going to unpack?” Lauren asked.
“Guess so,” he said jumping up. “What do you want to do after lunch?”
“Take a guess,” Lauren smiled impishly.
Logan woke up with a start and groggily reached for Lauren. To his surprise, she wasn’t there. He drew on some clothes and went to the living area in search of her. She wasn’t there either. Wondering where she’d disappeared, he went to the kitchen and checked with Mildred. The housekeeper had no idea where Lauren was. It was then Logan realized she must have gone outside.
