Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  “And we’ll find you, Mairead.”

  With that she was gone. Mairead reached between the seats and gripped James’ cold and unresponsive hand. The front of his shirt was soaked in blood, and there was a wheeze to his breathing. She fought against her rising panic and refused to allow herself to contemplate the worst.

  “We’re having a baby, James. You and me. We’re going to be parents. How weird is that?” She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “We’re going to have our work cut out for us now; sleepless nights, nappy changes…”

  Tears were spilling over when she noticed the gun between her seat and the hand brake. It sickened her, igniting the horrific memory of James being knocked back as the bullet struck. His face had registered a momentary frown and confusion, before his legs had buckled under him.

  James made a low groan. Mairead gasped and climbed up on her seat to look at him. His eyes were slightly open. Through the open window she could hear sirens.

  “They’re on their way, James. It’s going to be alright.”

  He didn’t answer.

  There were going to be questions, so many questions that she had no answers for. The gun only presented more problems. Laying James’ hand down, she delicately took hold of the butt and drew it out, not looking at it as she turned in her seat.

  Getting out, she looked at the paddock on the other side of the fence until she spied a suitable place. With her body still trembling and drained of strength, it took some effort to climb over the wire fence.

  As the sirens got louder, she pushed herself to move faster. The gun had to be well hidden before the place was swarming with police. It had to be somewhere, where she could retrieve it later.

  * * * * *

  A helicopter was flying overhead and Dylan stayed pressed up against the shed, watching until it had flown back towards the crash scene. He could still see the red and blue flashing lights in the distance. Bringing up the binoculars, he cursed quietly at the police cars and emergency vehicles spread far and wide at the intersection, obstructing his view.

  All he knew was Esther had emerged from the car and run off. A short time later, he had watched Mairead go into the paddock and then return to the car, just as the police arrived.

  Returning to the 4WD, he switched on the police scanner and listened to the droning voices amid the static crackle. It was a long time before someone said something he wanted to hear.

  There were four men dead. James was in a critical condition and being airlifted to the hospital. The truck driver was being treated for shock in an ambulance. Lazy conversation passed between the operators and police, remarking casually on the crash.

  “Truck driver reckons she passed about ten feet in front of him. The SUV was braking, but was going too fast. Driver lost control and ploughed it right into the back end of the truck.”

  “We’ve got a couple of them still wedged in the wreckage. The driver’s been decapitated. Love to know what went on. Going to be here until midnight, easily. And we’ve got an automatic weapon on the scene from out of the victims’ car.”

  “Get on with it,” Dylan snarled.

  It was a few more minutes until Mairead’s name was mentioned.

  “You might want to delay that ambulance with Mairead Vaughn. We got some other department wanting hold of her.”

  “I doubt it. She’s in shock and has just informed one of the paramedics that’s she’s possibly pregnant.”

  Dylan gasped quietly and his head bowed in defeat.

  There was more static and another voice. “I don’t know if the husband’s going to make it. Should have them together in the same place just in case.”

  Dylan switched the scanner off and reclined back against his seat. He was trembling and his breathing was still laboured. Through all the bitter, violent years, he couldn’t remember feeling so confused and distressed. For all his efforts, Tammy was dead, James was badly wounded, and Mairead was pregnant and facing the possibility of losing her husband.

  His eyes were stinging with tears and his whole body was tense with a need to emit some kind of primal scream. Instead, he remained still, staring out at industrial waste and bitterly accepting he could do nothing at that moment except return home with Tammy.

  Part Three

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Wellington Hospital, February, 2014

  James was first conscious of a beeping sound as he began to wake. Soon he could hear voices talking quietly nearby. There was something in his nose and he could feel the heavy weakness in his body. Slowly he opened his eyes and became aware of pain in his chest.

  Someone spoke. “Remember, keep the questions to a minimum and keep it short. He’s undergone two operations and is still not out the woods yet, and after two weeks, I doubt he remembers anything.”

  James frowned to hear that so much time had passed. It was still several minutes before he could focus enough to see an unfamiliar face studying him.

  “Mr. Vaughn,” the man spoke quietly. “I’m Doctor Burton.”

  James looked at him through glazed eyes. “Mairead. Where’s Mairead?”

  “Your wife is fine. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “Pain, nausea. Just tell me about Mairead.”

  “You’re due some more pain relief soon…”

  “My wife.” James weakly gripped his arm. “Tell me about my wife.”

  “Alright, Mr. Vaughn. Someone is here that should be able to answer your questions, but if you’re not up to it…”

  At that moment a woman stepped closer to the bed. His recognition of Cooper had him trying to sit up. “Let me talk to her.”

  “Just lie still.” The doctor stepped back to let Cooper come forward. He glared at her. “I’ll give you three minutes.”

  He went out and James reclined against the pillow, staring at her. “Where’s Mairead?”

  “James, do you remember anything about what happened, how you came to be here.”

  He weakly shook his head.

  “You were in a car accident, and we believe Mairead was driving. Her fingerprints were taken from the steering wheel, along with yours, but you were already unconscious in the back of the car.”

  “Car accident?” James shook his head in confusion.

  “That is not how you sustained your injuries, Mr. Vaughn. You were shot.”

  “Shot?” He frowned, and thought of the dreams that he’d been having, which he had thought were memories of his time in Afghanistan. “How?”

  “We don’t know. We just know Mairead was with you.”

  Somewhere in the fog, he could see Mairead’s terrified face and those of others with her.

  “James, was Dylan Tyler with you? Did he shoot you?”

  His eyes squinted, peering hard at nothing, but gradually finding clarity to his thoughts, beginning to remember images of the violent scene. His breathing grew heavier and he was suddenly struggling to get up, ripping the oxygen tube from his nose.

  “Mairead…”

  Cooper barred his way, desperately trying to keep him to the bed. Despite his weakened condition, she could feel some strength as he tried to push her away.

  “James, no, don’t do this.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Mr. Vaughn.” Cooper adopted her harshest voice. “I’ll tell you nothing about Mairead unless you stay in that bed.”

  He paused, glaring at her, his breath syphoned through his gritted teeth. Slowly, he fell back against the pillows, keeping his glare fixed on her. “Then tell me.”

  “Mairead has been treated for minor injuries and is currently being held at a high security facility at the Women’s prison.”

  He shook his head, breathing harder. “Why?”

  “She’s been arrested, on suspicion of aiding and abetting Dylan Tyler, who is wanted for murder, kidnapping and suspected terrorist activity. The warrant for her arrest has been executed under the Terrorism Suppression Act, which will be explained…”

  “I don�
�t want your fucking explanations.” James pulled himself up further on the pillow, his face reflecting his painful struggle. “I want to know what you want. Forget the legal jargon and just get to the point.”

  “We want Dylan Tyler.”

  “And I don’t have a fucking clue where to find him.” James panted before he spoke again. “So just get someone in here and I’ll confess to anything you have on her.”

  “We have no evidence against you…”

  “Do it.” James gritted his teeth furiously. “Or I’ll have my lawyer issue a statement to the media, that Mairead was threatened and subjected to extreme violence by me… forcing her to participate in any allegations made against her.” He took deep breaths, his face reflecting his pain and anger. “You try to keep her locked up, and I will have every women’s advocate group in this country tearing you apart for further victimising a victim of domestic violence.”

  Cooper breathed out slowly. “How the hell can you be so certain that this isn’t exactly what she wants, while all the time she’s in collusion with Tyler, letting you take the fall? I’ve read the history, Mr. Vaughn. She was engaged to Mark Lewis when she took off with you. Has it occurred to you that she’s about to do the same with Tyler?”

  James shook his head. “You know nothing about her, except what your files and the media tell you.”

  “I’ve met her and she’s no bloody angel.”

  “No, she not. She’s my wife and no one has ever loved me like she does, so don’t ever fucking try to make me doubt it. Just get her out.”

  Cooper nodded. “You could be facing the next thirty years in prison, Mr. Vaughn. I hope she’s worth it.”

  James smiled. “She worth everything to me.”

  * * * * *

  There was a table in front of her and two chairs on the other side. For some endless time, Mairead had familiarised herself with every rivet and mark upon them, having stared at them for so often. Other than that, there was just the black window that reflected her weary image. She avoided it, knowing people were on the other side watching her.

  She had no way of telling where she was or how long she had been detained. When she wasn’t in this room where they interrogated her, she was confined to a prison cell, or handcuffed and walking a series of blank corridors.

  The harsh lights were never switched off anywhere, even in her cell. Every time she succumbed to exhaustion, they were waking her again and taking her back to that room. It was impossible to know how much sleep she was getting, but her body was getting weaker every day and the nausea was constant.

  Her demands for a lawyer had been denied. Instead a warrant had been placed before her, while a man explained that she was being held on suspicion of terrorist activities, which excluded her from the usual rights of arrest. At some point, additional charges were going to be laid, including dangerous driving resulting in fatality. Until then, she was obligated to answer all questions put to her.

  The only medical attention they had given her was a pregnancy test, to which she was refused the results. From time to time, a doctor came to take her blood pressure and shove a thermometer in her mouth. Her clothes had been replaced with oversized pair of blue-grey pants and shirt.

  In all the insanity of her situation, Mairead reminded herself that she was still in New Zealand. They couldn’t keep her locked away forever without some kind of representation. Sometime it had to end.

  The only physical violence she had endured had been an invasive body search conducted by two women in prison guard uniforms. It had left her feeling violated, sick and with a seething contempt for anyone involved in her incarceration. It certainly wasn’t an incentive to being co-operative.

  The small interrogation room was the worst of it, when two men in suits began blandly rolling off question after question about Dylan. There was little she could tell them, not that she had any intention of saying anything. They weren’t about to believe that she didn’t know his whereabouts, so telling them anything else was pointless. Somehow in all her misery, she found strength in defiance, profanity and humour. It was like being the girl she had been before James had devoted himself to curbing her bratty ways.

  At times there were others present, standing back silently and watching the proceedings. Each session she learnt more about her captors than they did of Dylan. One of the onlookers seemed familiar to her. He was tall and mostly bald with his stern, tight-lipped expression showing little emotion. The fact that her interrogators eyed him from time to time, told her that he was the one in charge. A simple nod of his head often meant another long hour of repeated questions.

  Mostly, Mairead said nothing, choosing to sit handcuffed and silent. Some of the time, she found ways to amuse herself, tapping her nails on the table or singing songs to herself. She made commentaries on their appearances and told them dirty jokes that her girls at the club had shared with her. It was always a tremendous victory if one of them gave up the slightest grin.

  James was her only weakness, wanting him desperately and not knowing if he was dead or alive. He hadn’t gained consciousness when they had taken him away, and she was refused any information about him at all. Their attempt to use that as an incentive to make her talk, only put her in long, silent moods and fostered a contemptuous lack of fear of them.

  She found comfort in remembering times when she had faced disciplinary measures from James, where his calm austerity could reduce her to a quivering body of submission. Somehow, a long interrogation didn’t compare to a stern gaze and a command to take her panties down and stand in the corner to await correction.

  All she could do was cling to her belief that James was recovering. She spent time imagining how incredible their reunion would be. Anything else was beyond comprehension. Without James it wouldn’t matter what they did to her.

  Mairead took particular care of her health, remembering exactly how James had told her off about her eating habits. If she was pregnant, she needed to do all she could to look after herself, eat every sloppy meal that they brought her and use every minute they allowed her to rest. If her incarceration was causing any concerns, then surely the doctor would say so.

  There were times in the room when sleep wouldn’t come. It was at these times she pondered something that had bothered her since the crash. How had they been ambushed at that isolated shed? James had been too careful for anyone to follow them, or track them. She remembered how she had accused him of overreacting. Only Dylan and James had known the entire plan. Esther and possibly Tammy may have known something, but they would have never betrayed Dylan.

  It was during her current lengthy session in the room that something came to her. The car itself. They hadn’t checked it for tracking devices. There shouldn’t have been any necessity. The car was rarely used, a runabout for Vanessa when she had first moved to New Zealand. She had never got around to selling it. There was no possible way the Russians could have known they would use it. James had rung her on a new cell phone, away from anyone who could listen in. She had asked no questions and her loyalty to James was absolute, unless…

  Her thoughts were distracted when the door opened and the semi-bald man entered alone, shutting the door after him. Mairead watched him approach the table and sit down opposite her. He was intimidating, and she kept her eyes fixed on the table in front of her.

  “Mairead, what is your connection to Dylan Tyler?”

  “He’s my dentist,” she answered.

  “What do you know about the abduction of Adele Easton and the murder of her parents?”

  “Who?”

  “When did you last see Dylan Tyler?”

  “At your place. He was in bed with your sister.”

  The man smiled thinly and shook his head. “Mairead, did you read the warrant that was issued to you?”

  “No, sorry, I was out of toilet paper and it was all I had.”

  His voice was quiet and calm. “Well, if you had read it, you would understand the serious implications behind it.” />
  “For you, maybe.” She finally glared at him. “The media is going to love it, pregnant woman denied all her rights, held without charge and without representation; subjected to torture and denied proper medical care.”

  “Or they might prefer to learn of a girl who has a lengthy history of trouble and aggression, who has become an accessory to several violent deaths, including that of the Easton’s and the abduction of their daughter, whom she was already accused of attacking once. I think the general public would appreciate the efficient efforts the government has gone to, to protect innocent civilians from people like you.”

  It was hard to deny that his statement bothered her. For years she had nurtured a love, hate relationship with the media and knew their power in persuading public opinion.

  “Only one trouble with that,” Mairead remarked. “I wasn’t involved and you’ve got fuck all to say I was.”

  “Proof?” Miller laughed quietly. “We already have witnesses to your association with Dylan Tyler, an international terrorist. You’re fighting a losing battle. His name and image has already been circulated through every news channel in the country, and sooner or later we will find him. This is your chance to oust him first and demonstrate your desire to co-operate, if not for yourself, then for your husband. Your hopes of seeing him again are getting narrower every hour.”

  Mairead stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “James was taken back into surgery this morning, after suffering a complication of his injuries. Apparently some bone fragments lodged in his heart which went undetected in his first surgery and has now caused a rupture in the aorta. They’re not expecting him to survive the night.”

  Mairead felt the burning, icy sensation of her heart seizing up as if crushed in a vice. She shook her head as something dark erupted inside of her, bursting forth in a deafening scream as she gripped the table. Rising up, she heaved it up with her manacled hands, upending it straight into his lap, before throwing her body at it, still hobbled by the chair she was tied to. The man grunted with pain and managed to push back and free himself as the table crashed down, with Mairead and the chair falling onto it. She lay on her side screaming hysterically.