Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  He smiled. “I understand perfectly, Miss Easton. I have been made aware of the situation and I’m intrigued to say the least. From what I understand, we are looking at cyber terrorism and possibly murder, two subjects I don’t dismiss lightly. Since I was made aware of these allegations, I’ve attempted a much broader search on the man in question, and been surprised by the little I have come up with. That in itself worries me.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not well informed on matters of internet security and hackers,” Adele explained. “But what I have learned is, that it is quite possible that I have fallen victim to identify theft and false accusation by a highly sophisticated criminal. That’s where my interest lies, and nothing beyond that.”

  Miller nodded. “I understand, and yes, it raises some interesting questions, and poses a need to be diligent. If there is any substance to your theories, we don’t want leaks that would incite our suspect to leave the country.”

  “And I imagine you can’t cancel his passport without just cause.”

  “No, not until we have confirmation that terrorist activity exists. Until then, we need to keep quiet for two reasons. One, to keep this from the media and, two, your personal safety. Adele, I understand you have another party, Brendan North, involved in your research, a controversial man himself.”

  “Yes, and I have no wish for any harm to come to him either. I think he’s suffered enough. Brendan has already proven to be effective in unearthing Tyler’s history, and even revealed links to Russian organised crime.”

  Miller frowned. “Russian?”

  “I know,” Adele laughed. “It’s all starting to feel like a James Bond novel.”

  “You didn’t tell me this, Adele,” Lance frowned.

  “I only found out from Brendan this morning.”

  “Miss Easton, I would advise strongly for both of you to desist from any further action until I’ve looked into this. I’m not promising you anything, but if I should discover something that warrants further investigation, I want to do it through the appropriate channels.”

  Adele smiled. “I don’t believe Brendan poses too much trouble. At the moment he’s looking at getting some facial recognition software to identify a woman who was with Tyler. I don’t know much about these things, but it sounds like a pipe dream and I’m not banking on him having too much success.”

  “Then why keep him on?” Miller frowned.

  “Probably because I feel sorry for him. His life was affected by Tyler as well. If I can give him a little happiness for a few months, then I am happy to do just that.”

  “This woman you mentioned…”

  Adele placed the USB on the desk in front of him. “That has everything that we’ve discovered up until now, and the photos I took. I’ve written detailed notes of persons I believe are involved with him and in what capacity.”

  “And Brendan North has positively identified Tyler as the man with Mary Whittaker that night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Astounding.” Miller frowned. “I didn’t imagine that case ever gaining new leads. I’ve looked at it several times myself over the last eight years. My predecessor was certainly odd, but I didn’t imagine her to be involved in anything criminal.”

  “I think she was a very foolish woman,” Adele commented. “And certainly shouldn’t have been in such a powerful position.”

  “No, not if any of this is true. Mary was responsible for national security. Her behaviour suggests that she might have conducted crimes amounting to treason, putting our country at enormous risk.”

  “After nine years?” Lance asked. “Surely something would have occurred by now.”

  “Not necessarily, especially if there is any Russian connection. During the Cold War, KGB operatives were planted worldwide and not activated for years. Their mission was to assimilate and work their way into positions where maximum damage could be done. You’d be surprised at how far they got.”

  “I thought the Cold War was over,” Adele commented. “And this is Russian mafia, not KGB. Remember, I’ve only got hearsay to link Tyler to either.”

  “Which is why this man needs to come under my scrutiny,” Miller replied. “Rest assured that an investigation will be conducted discreetly so as to not expose you to any danger or unwanted publicity, and not to alert Tyler that he’s being investigated.”

  There was something reassuring in his sombre nature that eased Adele’s worries. When their meeting concluded, he shook their hands and Adele walked him to the front door, where she got her first real smile from him.

  “Try not to worry too much, Miss Easton. Just from the briefing, I was convinced that there is weighty evidence in your favour.” He nodded his head again. “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance today and I’ll be in touch very soon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

  She stood at the door watching him stride to his car and thinking how appealing his strong, stern demeanour was to her. Another time she might have imagined them getting to know one another, two professionals matched in intellect and social graces. It was good to have him on side. As Director of Intelligence Services, the spy boss as her father called him, he had the best resources to find and expose Dylan Tyler.

  That left Barry Underhill as her immediate threat. If there was any truth to him having evidence against her, then everything else was pointless. Although he’d given her until Christmas to help him, he could change his mind anytime. The momentary joy was gone and Adele headed to her bedroom where she spent most of her time lately, contemplating a dismal future.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  West Coast, South Island, New Zealand, December 2004

  Sunrise was still an hour away but there was enough visibility to keep the headlights switched off as Dylan slowly drove the 4WD along a tar sealed road which ran alongside the beach. He had no expectations of meeting anyone, but he kept his window down, listening for other vehicles. This was the last of the houses in the area.

  He got his first glimpse of it through the trees, set well back from the road and high up in the thick forest terrain. There were lights on, which made it visible or it might have easily been missed. Shutting off the engine, he strained to listen over the surf and the rush of wind through the trees.

  Getting out of the car, he pulled his ski mask over his face and opened the back door. His eyes never left the house as he tucked a .38 Glock into the back of his jeans and a knife into the sheath on the inside of his boot.

  The keys were put under the wheel arch before heading along a gravel track. Dylan took his time, watching the house come into view. As he drew nearer, he could see the enormous clearing that had been cut into the thick forest, surrounding the house on every side. The rest of the space was occupied by a massive steel shed and an acre of lawn with a circle marked out for a helipad.

  Dylan was reluctant to leave the cover of the forest. For a while he stayed hidden to study the scene. Taking out his binoculars, he honed them in on the windows. Every light in the house was on and the curtains were open, allowing him a clear view inside. There was a lounge, a dining room and kitchen spread along the front. Central was a freestanding wood burner and two timber doors on either side. They were open, revealing a bathroom and another room, which he guessed to be a bedroom. His breath quickened when he saw the red marks on a glimpse of white wall.

  Keeping to the edge of the forest, he circled the house until he could see the bedroom window. He didn’t need the binoculars to see more blood on the panes. The curtains were hanging lopsided as if someone had tried to pull them down.

  Dylan sprinted across the gravel clearing and pressed himself up against the house, before edging toward the window. Peering in, he could see someone’s leg lying still on the bed. To be sure, he tapped the window and watched for any movement. Nothing happened.

  Going to the front of the house, the sliding door was open and he entered warily. In the kitchen, the refrigerator door was open and food was scattered over the floor tiles. L
arge blowflies were flying about seeking out something that had attracted them. To his left, bottles of wine, spirits and two half empty glasses sat on a table.

  Dylan switched the lights off, drew the curtains and went straight to the bedroom. Some of the flies had found the source of their excitement. The scene was horrific, with blood sprayed over walls and drenching the bed. The air was thick with the smell of blood, excrement and urine. It was a scene of a frenzied attack, with a naked man on the bed having received the brunt of it. His head was a bloodied mass, split horizontally under the nose and partially severed at the neck. Dylan figured that he probably hadn’t woken, unlike the naked woman on the floor. There were large cuts on her legs and arms, though the fatal blow was easily seen, with the hatchet still buried in her back.

  The horror of what he was seeing was dulled by a sense of rising frustration. This was not something he wanted to be involved in and his immediate concern was having left Mary alone with the girl.

  His attention was drawn to a portable television on a dresser behind the door. A camcorder was hooked up to it and he picked it up, studying the buttons until he was able to rewind it. The whir of tape stopped with a click and he pushed the play button.

  The television screen was suddenly filled with an extreme close-up of a woman’s genitals. With the sound of raucous laughter, the camera backed away revealing the entire back end of a naked woman. She was tied down and straddling a sawhorse.

  The dead woman was standing next to her, holding a beer bottle, swaying on her feet and laughing as a man came into the camera’s view. They clinked their bottles together over the bound girl and the man shuffled to the front of her, bending over to look in her face.

  “You want a drink, Ash?” he laughed, winking at the other woman.

  There was a muffled response and he laughed again as he went back to her side and held his bottle up. “Ash wants a drink.”

  They laughed and both of them gripped the girl’s buttocks and spread them apart. There was a muffled scream as the man held his bottle up to the camera before aiming the rim towards her anus.

  Dylan watched impassively as the violation took place. Fast-forwarding the tape, he grimaced at several further sadistic acts visited upon her by the couple. The camera was moved until he eventually saw her face, wide-eyed with agony and terror, her mouth filled with a ball gag. He also examined the scene behind her and had a fair idea where the event had been played out. Unplugging the camera, he put it away in his backpack. Leaving the bedroom, he strode from the house and headed towards the large steel shed.

  The door was open and he gazed about, looking for the same surroundings from the tape. The concrete floor was there, but only workbenches and tools could be seen. The visible area was too small and he walked towards the end, finding a sliding steel door partially open. A broken padlock hung open from a latch. Behind it was a larger area and the tools were more sinister. He immediately spied the sawhorse used in the video. There was a hoist and a pit under it, covered by planks of wood. Some of them had been shifted away and one was leaning against the walls of the pit.

  As he went closer, the smell of human waste assaulted his nostrils. Kicking away some more planks he stared down into the deep wide hole. There was a filthy mattress and blanket in one corner, a bucket and a thick chain attached to the wall. A thick piece of concrete lay on the floor near a broken manacle. In one corner, the bloody body of a dead kitten was laid out on a lumpy, dirty pillow. On closer inspection, he realised the head was not attached.

  “What the fuck?”

  Dylan went back to the other half of the shed. He took a closer inspection of the tools, equipment, and some drums lined up against a wall. He rocked them to hear the liquid swishing around inside. There was more than enough for what he needed, though the idea was not giving him any joy. It could bring more trouble than he wanted and he still had a psychopathic woman to deal with.

  He ran back to the house and began a thorough search of every drawer and cupboard, collecting and examining any item that might give him an idea of what he was up against. He found other tapes and pocketed them with the one he had seen. There was a desktop computer in the lounge and he quickly unplugged the tower. With it tucked securely under his arm, he left the house and jogged back to the car.

  The sun was coming up and there was no longer any cover of darkness. It was time to get out of there, and he hoped the house would remain undiscovered before he could return. There was nothing else he could do until he knew what he was dealing with.

  It was when he got back to Mary that he knew his troubles were only beginning. Nothing had been packed as he’d demanded. Instead, the girl was awake and lying on a sleeping bag, on her side, with Mary stroking her hair. One of Dylan’s t-shirts had replaced the bloodied nightgown.

  “I told you to pack,” Dylan growled quietly.

  “Tammy woke up,” Mary told him. “She had a very scary dream and she needed a cuddle.”

  Dylan frowned. “Tammy?”

  “Yes,” Mary nodded. “Tammy is only a little girl and I told her that you are a very kind man.”

  With that, the girl smiled at him. “Mary says that you cook the best pancakes. Could I please have some pancakes?”

  He could see the startling change in her. The fear and faraway gaze had gone, and her face looked young and animated. He nodded hesitantly. “I’ll make some soon.” He glared at Mary. “We need to talk.”

  Mary looked at the girl. “Now the grownups need to talk, so you have to be a good girl and try to get some more sleep.”

  “I’m scared,” the girl whimpered.

  “Don’t be. My Master looks after all scared little girls and never lets anything bad happen to them.”

  The girl eyed him warily. “Will you look after me, too?”

  Dylan was beginning to think he was in some sort of theatrical production, but he nodded. “Yes.”

  When he got Mary outside alone, his temper was edging. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “She woke up and she was… different,” Mary explained. “She told me her name was Tammy and that she was eight years old.”

  “That’s probably because she’s a fucking lunatic.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Mary shook her head thoughtfully. “On the contrary, and having some awareness of this woman’s past, I would see this as some form of psychological regression…”

  Mary shut her mouth quickly as she became aware of the angry glare from Dylan.

  “What awareness do you have of this woman?”

  “Ashley Tait is the daughter of an Australian mining magnate.”

  Dylan stared at her, bewildered. “What?”

  “Her husband Brian, as I told you, owned a neighbouring property, but I didn’t know for one moment that it would be any kind of problem buying a house near his. I had checked him out extensively and I certainly wasn’t expecting to bump into Ashley…”

  “You were spying on this man?” The quiet, calm voice was gaining a furious volume.

  “With very good reason, Master,” Mary said quickly. “But that’s not why I bought the property. I just saw it when it…”

  Dylan shook his head and walked a few steps away before his fury could erupt any further. He wanted to do something to her, something disgustingly cruel until she was screaming for mercy. With his knowledge of her hard limits, he knew he could break her, take every shred of her arrogance and confidence away and leave her a whimpering shell. He could dehumanize her, physically and psychologically destroy her until he finally achieved the ultimate submission. Or he could just kill her.

  When he turned back, Mary was kneeling down in the grass, her head bowed and her body trembling. It brought him no satisfaction, knowing that her excitement and arousal was growing with her apprehension. He had no intention of bringing her any pleasure.

  “Get up. Submission is not measured by the way you can prostrate yourself before me.”

  His words had the desired effect with Mary
slowly standing, her face blushing and confused, not daring to look at him.

  Dylan continued. “Upon your return to work, you will remove Zirconia from the network. You’ll have a week. If you do not comply, I will launch the anti-virus and probably take out every government network throughout the country, while Zirconia destroys itself. And you’ll be dealing with all this alone, Mary, because I will be gone and you will never see me again.”

  Mary fell to her knees again. “No, please, no, no, no, no. I’ll get rid of it. I swear, Master, I swear…” Her words were swallowed up in tears.

  Dylan stared at her impassively, until he was instinctively reacting to a movement behind him. He turned in time to catch a cast iron frying pan about to be slammed into him. With one yank, it was taken from the girl attacking him and thrown to the ground. His grip remained upon her wrist while his eyes penetrated her with a caustic glare. Her face contorted with fear under his gaze.

  Ashley sobbed. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Mary was quickly to his side. “Master, please, she was only trying to protect me. You’re scaring her. Please let her go.”

  Ashley started to bawl. Dylan released her, but watched her warily, the bloody carnage of the other house still fresh in his mind.

  “Go back inside,” he demanded quietly. “Attack me again and I will fucking hurt you.”

  She ran off, crying loudly. He watched until she was inside the house and then turned back to Mary glaring at him.

  “You can’t talk to her like that when’s she’s Tammy.”

  “Her name is Ashley and she’s not a fucking kid. So what do you know about her?”

  “Brian Tait came up on my radar a while ago. I told you about Doug Watson and Brian was in his email list. They had exchanged photos of children. There was a scandal in Australia, about eight years ago, when Ashley got married. She was only sixteen and Brian Tait was twenty years older. There were rumours that she was pregnant and others implying that Brian was having an affair with Ashley’s mother. Anyway, she was married and brought here to New Zealand.”