Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  Mr. Vaughn,” Cooper said quietly. “You said in your statement that you knew little about Brendan North, and yet your wife knew quite a bit about him, about his involvement with a senior public servant, Mary Whittaker, and an unknown man whom she called Master, who strangely fits the description of Dylan Tyler. Don’t you think that’s odd that Mairead didn’t share this information with you?”

  When her question went unanswered, Cooper smiled and closed her folder. “Your newlywed, Mr. Vaughn, and you have a very beautiful wife. Have you thought about what she will do if you are sent to prison? The evidence against you is overwhelming, and one would think that you would be doing everything to help your cause. I can understand loyalty to a friend, and certainly to one’s partner, but I’d certainly be looking to see if my loyalty wasn’t being abused. What it comes down to is, how well do you know Dylan Tyler?”

  When he continued to be silent, she sighed. “I think we’ll leave it there. At this stage you’ll be transferred to Rimutaka, awaiting the outcome of the appeal your lawyer has lodged. Until then, have a think about what I’ve said.”

  They left the room and James remained unmoving in his seat, aware that he was still being observed. He allowed no body language or facial expression that would give away any reaction to the interview, but it wasn’t easy. Up until that point, Dylan had not been part of the equation.

  He felt furious that Mairead had chosen to hold back information. It wasn’t the first time she had done that, or even the first time it had involved Dylan. He would have given anything to have five minutes with her, demanding answers, listening to her feeble excuses and following them up with a sound thrashing to her bare arse.

  A grin nearly escaped at the thought, and he knew it was impossible to be angry with her. Somehow, she would have a reason that made sense to her. James was beginning to think his anger was more about the ridiculous suggestions Cooper had made about Mairead and Dylan.

  There had been a time he’d felt jealous of Dylan, of the way Mairead trusted him. Dylan had earned her trust, never doubting her when everyone else, including himself, had let her down. One thing James didn’t doubt was how much Mairead loved him and had forgiven him for doubting her word over Adele’s.

  Whatever she was up to, he’d made a promise to believe in her. It was a promise he intended to keep.

  * * * *

  “I don’t like it,” Vanessa said angrily. “You should at least allow me to stay with you. James would expect that of me.”

  Mairead shook her head. “I’m not a child and I want to be in my own home, on my own. I truly appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Vanessa, but I need to be alone and you have someone else that needs your attention.”

  “Sophie is easy to get along with. She’s not demanding and she understands that these are difficult circumstances.”

  “Yes, they are, and I need to deal with them in my own way. I promise, that if I need you I will call.” Mairead held her breath until Vanessa nodded, conceding to her wishes.

  “Go in then and you ring me if there is the slightest trouble.”

  Mairead thanked her again and quickly got out of the car before she changed her mind. It wasn’t until she was inside the house that her tears escaped. Leaning, against the door, she breathed out deeply, before having to make a sudden dash to the kitchen, where she once again began to heave with nausea.

  The moment her stomach had settled enough, she picked up her phone and tapped in a number, going through the familiar procedure to contact Dylan.

  “Mairead, and it’s urgent. Thank you.”

  Putting her phone down, she heaved again as her head swam with dizziness. She lowered herself to the tiled floor and began to pant. It was some time before she felt well enough to make her way to the bedroom, where she collapsed onto the bed. The nausea seemed to linger and she felt weary. Something wasn’t right, but she was reluctant to think about the cause.

  Looking to her left, her heart ached to see the empty space. Rolling over, she pulled James’ pillow closer, to smell his scent on it. She wanted to release her anger, scream at anyone who would listen, but exhaustion was claiming her. She put her phone down on the bed to await Dylan’s call and then closed her eyes, trying to believe that everything was going to be alright.

  * * * * *

  It was just after seven when the television faded to black and the lamp went out. Kenneth Lister groaned and got up from his armchair, shuffling across to the sideboard where he kept the torch. There was still enough light to get around without it, but there was no way of knowing how long a blackout might last. It was safe to say that no more people would be coming through the gallery and he went to lock the door.

  It opened before he had reached it and he could only watch as the two large men walked in, shut the door and locked it for him. One turned the ‘open’ sign about.

  Fear had his heart pounding as he stared at the men. “What do you want?”

  Neither of them spoke. One of them went straight to his lounge and on through to the rest of the house. The other remained, staring at him. Kenneth looked him over from his bearded face and bald head, to the black leather gloves he was wearing. They matched the rest of his black outfit and the sports bag he was carrying.

  The other man came back and said something to the other. The man nodded, still staring at Kenneth.

  “We want to know all there is to know about Dylan Tyler.” His quiet voice had a heavy Russian accent. “When you have told us enough to satisfy us, you will die. How long you suffer is up to you.”

  Kenneth stared at him and then at his partner who was much the same, without the beard. Both of them were at least a foot taller and twice his weight.

  “And if I don’t know anything?”

  “Then you will suffer.” The man looked about at the photographs on the wall. “Has Tyler ever lived here?”

  “No.” Kenneth shook his head.

  “Personal items, anything of his, are they here?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where Tyler is of this moment, or where we might find him?”

  The old man’s lip trembled. “No.”

  “Not looking good for you, old man.” The bearded man approached him, bending over to bring his face close. “Do you know how to get in contact with him?”

  Kenneth stared into the dark eyes. His mouth drooped as he nodded.

  “Ah, now we are getting somewhere.” He straightened up and smiled. “Let’s go into your cosy little room and have a chat.”

  As Kenneth went to go to the lounge, the man hooked a boot on his leg and pulled his feet out from under him. Kenneth crashed to the floor, landing heavily on his arm. A searing agony went through his back as he felt his shoulder dislocate.

  He lay unmoving, his mouth wide with a low groan, trapped in his throat. The man took a fistful of his jumper and hoisted him back up. A gloved hand went over his mouth and his captor brought his leering face close to his.

  “Careful, Mr. Lister. So many old people die from falls. Didn’t you know that?”

  The glove pressed harder into his mouth and Kenneth’s nose was clamped shut. His eyes widened as his air was cut off. Desperately, he used his one hand to try to pull on the man’s arm, strong as an iron girder.

  His lungs seemed set to burst as his head became light and suddenly he was falling again. He was aware of the blinding pain of his shoulder, but he was breathing again, sucking in precious gulps of air.

  Through his clouded vision of tears, Kenneth sobbed wishing he had blacked out. He was dropped into his armchair and the men were standing over him. The bearded one crouched down.

  “Are there cameras or microphones in here?”

  Kenneth shook his head. “Only in the gallery.”

  “How do you contact Tyler?”

  Kenneth cried, the spittle running from his mouth as he opened it. “Pager.”

  “Pager?” The man laughed. “Does such a thing exist anymore? Okay, old man, we get you the ph
one. Who do you ask for?”

  “I give my name. Mr. Tyler will ring back. I don’t know how long it will take.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  “A fortnight ago.”

  “Why did he come then?”

  “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “So why call him? Why not a doctor?”

  Kenneth looked down, away from the piercing glare. “I don’t know.”

  His head was pushed back with the man’s crushing grip on his jaw. “You should know, old man, we know what we are doing. This isn’t like the old days when they just tortured people to interrogate them. These days we are trained to read the body language, the facial expressions. We know when we are being lied to. Now, why did you call him?”

  “He just checked me over, took my blood pressure and temperature. He said that I had a touch of flu and he had a nurse come in to look after me for a few days.”

  The man stared at him. “Tyler is a doctor?”

  Kenneth struggled to answer. “I don’t know. He’s just been the one to look after my health these past years. I don’t get sick often.”

  “That’s good, because, right now, you are looking very pale, not healthy at all. You need your doctor, don’t you?”

  Wincing, Kenneth shook his head.

  “I said you do,” the man snarled. He turned to his companion. “Switch the power back on and get the phone. Shoot the cameras out first.”

  Laying back in his chair, Kenneth breathed steadily, trying not to think about the pain. Instead he thought of the John Wayne movie he had watched that day. He had always liked the Duke. He came across as a no nonsense, tough guy, with a softer side and a firm hand for the ladies. That’s how he thought of Dylan and he took some comfort in his thoughts as tears continued to stream down his face.

  The room was suddenly flooded with light and sound. His captor switched the television off, but left the lamp on, using the light to look about the room. The other man returned and a phone was put into Kenneth’s hand. Lifting his arm sent bolts of agony through his shoulder. The phone fell to the floor as he howled. Instantly, the glove was back over his mouth and nose again, until he shook his head.

  His mouth hung open silently as the glove came away. Kenneth breathed deeply. “I can’t dial.”

  He gasped as he felt his trousers being undone. The bearded man opened the zip and shoved something against his sparse amount of grey pubic hair.

  “I have a Taser against your prick,” he leered. “One wrong word and you will feel as if your balls have been ripped away. Give me the number and I will dial. I only want to hear you say your name. Is that understood?”

  Kenneth nodded and gave him the number. After a few rings, a voice asked for his name and he followed his instructions, nodding that he was done.

  “Maladyets,” the man said, lowering the phone. “When he rings, you will tell him that you are not well. You need him.”

  “It could be an hour before he rings back.”

  “We have all the time in the world.”

  The man stood up and walked across to his bag, lying open on the floor. From it he pulled out a small vial of pills. Holding it up, he shook it and grinned.

  “You see,” he said. “We are not brutal. Your death could come with one small pill. It will stop your heart, a little pain before you pass out and not wake up.”

  Reaching into the bag again he drew out a length of wire. “This, on the other hand, will be a bad way to go, constricting your airways as I pull it slowly back, slicing into your scrawny neck like a cheese cutter. I’ll take my time, maybe let off the pressure as you begin to choke on your own blood. Not a nice way to go, but the choice is yours, depending on how much you want to co-operate.”

  Kenneth scowled at him. “Mr. Tyler is a good man. He would pay you whatever you want.”

  The bearded man laughed. “Oh, he is going to pay alright. Whatever money he has, will also be ours. Everything and anyone Jahn Zaleski has ever touched, will be taken from him. His life will be the least of it all.”

  “Jahn Zaleski.” Kenneth smiled weakly. “Is that his real name? I always wondered.”

  “It is the one we know him as.” The man peered at him. “So, what are you to him?”

  “Me?” Kenneth shook his head. “I’m no one. A reformed drunk. I collect his mail and show people his work.”

  “And yet he comes when you are sick.”

  “He cares and I don’t think I ever asked why.” Kenneth frowned. “He gave me nine years more than I deserved and has asked nothing from me, except a few little favours I was happy to do. Why would you want to hurt him?”

  The bearded man came closer, staring down at him with contempt. “That man you talk about, like some sort of saint, is a vicious killer, a former KGB operative who murdered anyone who got in his way. A monster who ripped a man to shreds with a whip and cut off his arm. That’s your fucking hero.”

  Kenneth stared back at him. “And how does that make him any worse than you? It’s not him that’s about to end my life.”

  Before the man could answer, the phone rang. The man picked up his Taser and returned it to its ominous position.

  “Remember, choose your death wisely.” The man pressed the answer button and handed Kenneth the phone.

  His tears were flowing again as he heard the familiar voice answer, “Yes, Ken?”

  Kenneth smiled bitterly. “I’m not doing too well, my friend, and… Jahn Zaleski, they’ve come for you…”

  His words ended in a guttural scream as his body convulsed in agony.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was a few minutes before 10pm when Adele entered her bedroom with a glass of water. Her hands were trembling as she collected up two small white pills and brought them to her mouth. Washing them down, she was aware of the bitter taste reminding her that it had come to this. Normality was gone. Her life was chaos and that sick, anxious feeling had stayed with her the entire day.

  The memory of Brendan’s swollen and bloodied face kept haunting her. She remembered the terror she had felt, fumbling to get her phone out and dropping it, seeing Brendan trying to say something. An endless time after that, there had been police, paramedics, bystanders in dressing gowns and flashing lights. It all just blended into one big nightmare.

  Now the night had returned and she had to get through it and face another day. She hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours and wasn’t likely to, not while her mind was so tortured. Taking up the vial of pills, she took two more and looked at the others inside.

  She smiled bitterly, knowing she didn’t have it in her to end her own life, not that she would ever do that to her parents. Her poor parents, still trusting her, believing in her, doing everything to comfort her. It was for them that she had to survive, and ironically, her future was technically brighter.

  The police were on side, and even Bevan Miller had called her, not telling her much, but ensuring her that her suspicions about Dylan Tyler were being taken seriously.

  Barry Underhill was dead and she had created an effective defence to the other charges against her, demonstrating that she was truly a victim. Mairead would be shoved under the spotlight again and seen for the awful person she was.

  Adele had a good solid case. It was now entirely possible that everything could be turned around and all the damage to her career and reputation erased. Within weeks, she could be back in her role as a respected lawyer and esteemed member of society. It should have had her kicking up her heels and celebrating, but instead it just weighed her down.

  She wasn’t respectable. She was as bad as any of the guilty lowlifes she had defended and won their freedom. It had never bothered her before. That’s what a good lawyer did. Now she was winning her own freedom and still carrying a burden that was growing heavier every day. Wanting to be a good person and being one were not the same.

  Adele climbed into her bed and rolled onto her side. She thought of Brendan lying in an intensive care unit, with a batte
red face and a very uncertain future.

  “I’m sorry, Brendan,” she whispered. “Pull through and I’ll do everything I can for you.”

  There was a knock at her door and it opened slowly. Lance popped his head in and smiled. “Just came to say goodnight and see how you were doing.”

  The pills were beginning to make her drowsy, but she smiled back. “I’m alright, Dad. Is Mum okay?”

  He nodded. “She’s finally asleep, with the help of some sleeping pills and a couple of brandies.”

  “I’m sorry for what I’m putting you both through, Dad.”

  “You’re not putting us through anything,” he told her firmly. “We’re with you all the way and we’re going to get this mongrel. Bevan Miller rang before to let me know there will be a patrol car staying close to the house tonight, and I’ve been talking with some of my colleagues, giving them a quiet heads up on what’s happening. You have a lot of support, Adele.”

  “Thank you, Dad.” She saw him frown towards the window. “It’s locked, Dad. I just checked.”

  “You just get some sleep, sweetheart. We’ve got some big days ahead of us. Just know how much Mum and I love you.”

  Her heart wrenched. “I love you both, too, Dad.”

  He bid her goodnight and quietly closed the door. Adele felt light headed and nauseous as she reached to turn her lamp off. The room fell into darkness with just the moonlight filtering through the gap in her curtains. The effect of four pills was taking its toll, making her thoughts vague and lulling her into sleep.

  It seemed like only minutes before she was awake again, feeling heavy and sickly. Her room was still dark and the moonlight was shining a rectangle of light on the opposite wall. Her covers were thrown off and she had a vague memory of getting out of bed to answer the summons of a doorbell.

  “Stupid dream.” Closing her eyes again, she pulled the blankets up around her as the cold air made her shiver. Why was it so cold?

  Adele half opened her eyes again and gazed at the curtains. They were gently billowing and swaying. It took her a moment to realise that they shouldn’t be moving at all.