Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  Her attention turned to the hallway and she made her way to the first door. Turning the handle, she peered inside the tiny room. There were suitcases, boxes and a clothes rack. Leaving the door open, she checked the other room and saw a double bed, a chest of drawers and some dumbbells and weights on the floor. There was a built-in closet where Mairead began her search. She went through every pocket and checked every shoe box. Nothing of interest came to light.

  The dresser was next. Every drawer was gone through, carefully ensuring it was all left the way she had found it. The bottom drawer revealed an array of sex toys and implements, and Mairead felt a pang of guilt for being so invasive.

  After finding nothing in the main bedroom, she returned to the other room. The boxes were filled with papers and more books, none which reflected anything sinister. The papers were written in Dutch and had the insignia of a Dutch University. Turning her attention to the suitcases, she rifled through more clothes and shoes. There were inner pockets of the cases to search, but all they gave up was an old magazine.

  On second thought, Mairead got it out again and looked at the cover. Instantly her skin prickled and she sat back on the floor staring at the writing. She knew enough to know the strange lettering was Russian. She made another, more thorough search of the suitcase. Taking her gloves off, she patted the sides and bottom. Her heart beat faster when she felt something under the side lining. At one end, the lining was open and with a bit of persistence she worked the object down until it was protruding enough to get it out.

  It looked to be a driver’s licence and again the writing was Russian. Mairead stared at the familiar face in the photo, her hands trembling as she was overcome with a furious bitterness and a cold satisfaction that her theory had been confirmed.

  Slipping the backpack from her shoulders, she retrieved a camera and took several shots of it, before returning it to its hidden lodgings. When it was done, Mairead took a moment to breathe and calm herself. It wasn’t the time to allow herself to fall apart. The discovery had only confirmed her suspicions and challenged her need to act upon them.

  Now, more than ever, she needed her head to be clear, to be certain of what she was doing. A time was coming when there would be no turning back.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  It was the worst possible place for a bus stop. Lena sat on the shelter seat and tried not to think about the bottle store, directly behind her. Her head was still hurting and thick from a drunken sleep. She hadn’t expected half a bottle of vodka to intoxicate her so quickly, but then it again, it had been her first drink in a few days.

  It should have kept her asleep until lunch time, if that call hadn’t come. She wanted to be excited, to believe that something would come of this meeting, but bitter experience had corrupted her enthusiasm. There had been other calls, many of them. They usually didn’t go as far as setting up a meeting. Most of the time, it was abuse or teenagers making prank calls. Sometimes they extended her torment, telling her that they knew where Greta was, getting her excited, only to end in some crude joke.

  At first, Lena had been stunned by the cruelty of people, but was soon reminded of her youth, that evil could lurk in anyone, even people she had loved and trusted. Becoming cynical of the world was getting easier.

  Lena wasn’t sure if it was the guilt eating at her or the fear of disappointment, but she got up and walked quickly to the bottle store. Her large handbag was able to hold several miniature bottles of vodka. It was an expensive way to buy it, but it meant that she could be discreet, swallowing back enough to calm her nerves. By the time the bus arrived, her confidence had been restored and her head didn’t ache so badly. Sitting out of sight, at the back of the bus, allowed her to drain the remaining bottles.

  It was only when she arrived in the city, Lena realised she was quite inebriated, nearly tripping as she stepped from the bus. Her stumble made her giggle, which in turn invited a reprimand to herself over her silliness. She still had to get to the theatre where this supposed meeting would take place.

  Walking proved to be challenging and she was soon inviting disapproving looks from people passing by. To make matters worse, her bladder was seriously urging her to find a toilet. Ahead, she could see people sitting at tables out on the pavement.

  Lena quickened her stride and weaved through the patrons to get inside the café. There were more crowded tables inside and two attendants were dashing about behind a counter serving a number of customers.

  She pushed her way to the counter, knowing her need was becoming urgent. Two young girls in the queue gawked at her in disgust.

  “Wait your turn, you stupid bitch.”

  A man tapped her on the shoulder. “Lady, there are others here before you.”

  Lena looked at them desperately. “You do not understand. I need to…”

  “Oh, my god, she’s drunk.” The shrill voice of the girl brought everyone’s attention to Lena.

  “No, I just need a toilet…”

  Lena looked about and saw a door at the far end of the café, with a small sign indicating the women’s bathroom. She went to move through the crowd, only to be corralled by a bald man in a white shirt, with a badge which read ‘duty manager.’

  “Madam, would you please leave the premises.”

  “I will,” Lena nodded. “Just let me go to bathroom…”

  “Leave or I will call the police.”

  Her urgency turned to frustration. “Just let me go to the toilet and I will leave your stupid shop and never come back.”

  His face became horrified. “Are you making some sort of threat?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lena yelled at him. “I want to pee. Is that so much trouble?”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I’m calling the police if you’re not out of here…”

  “Why would you do that?” Lena suddenly realised she was yelling at him in Ukrainian and she tried to speak again. “Please, I just need…”

  He gripped her arm and starting marching her to the door, only for Lena to trip and sprawl to the floor. Bottles rolled out from her bag and customers jumped up from nearby tables to get out of the way. Lena looked up at all the faces staring in disgust at her and she broke down into tears, trying to collect up the bottles.

  The manager was still tugging roughly on her arm. “Get up, you stupid woman.”

  The deep voice came from beside them. “Get your hands off her.”

  They both looked up and Lena saw a tall, lean man, with a neatly trimmed grey beard and moustache which covered his top lip. He looked to be in his fifties and smartly dressed in trousers and shirt. He had a kind face with dark eyes that wrinkled up as he smiled and offered her his hand.

  “May I help you up?”

  Lena gaped as she heard his Ukrainian words. She nodded and took his hand as he glared at the manager.

  “This woman would like to make use of your facilities.” The man’s voice was quiet and distinguished. “When she returns I want coffee brought to my table for her, unless you want me to report you for assaulting her.”

  The manager looked up at the much older man who stood a head taller and had a hard penetrating glare to go with his authoritative, accented voice.

  “No, Sir.” He looked at Lena, who was sniffling quietly. “Which coffee can I get you?”

  “Just black, please.” She glanced at the other man, smiled awkwardly and hurried to the toilet.

  The room was empty and once she had relieved herself, she took time to cry quietly at the washbasin. Her reflection in the mirror revealed her sallow complexion and the tiredness in her eyes. She looked at a few silvery threads in her dark hair and smiled sadly.

  “When did I get so old and stupid?”

  Taking some paper towels, she washed her face and went to search through her bag for a brush. The bottles rattled about and she quickly removed them, wrapping them in paper towels before depositing them into a bin.

  When she had brushed her hair, she kne
w it was time to go out and thank her rescuer.

  “One cup of coffee,” she told herself. “And an apology and then I can leave.”

  Lena emerged from the bathroom, and immediately saw people stare at her, inspiring a further need to get out. Unfortunately, the man stood up from his table and smiled towards her. Carefully, Lena made her way to him and sat down on the chair opposite.

  “You are very kind,” she mumbled, looking down at the table. “Thank you for helping me.”

  “Your voice was an unexpected pleasure.” The man spoke in Ukrainian. “It has been many years since I have heard this language, and spoken by such a beautiful, young woman.”

  Lena grinned sadly and looked at him. “There is little beautiful in the way I’ve behaved.”

  “You needed to pee,” he shrugged. “For this, you should not be embarrassed.”

  “I had been drinking. It was shameful.”

  He chuckled. “On Sunday, everyone drinks in Ukraine.”

  “This is not Ukraine,” she smiled. “What part are you from?”

  “I’m only half Ukrainian. My father was Ukrainian, my mother was Russian. I was born in Rostov.”

  “It’s all the same.” Her smile faded and she shook her head. “No, it is not the same. Not lately, but you are a good man, a kind man.”

  He gazed at her and extended his hand. “I am Eduard Utkin. Eddie.”

  “Eddie,” she smiled, taking his hand. “It is good to meet you, Eddie. I’m Lena Moroz.”

  He nodded. “A pleasure, Lena Moroz. So what is a beautiful Ukrainian woman doing in Wellington?”

  “I haven’t been here long. I’ve been travelling about the country…” Lena gasped. “Please, what time is it?”

  The man looked at his watch. “It is half past two.”

  Lena stood up and began fumbling through her purse. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I was supposed to be meeting someone.” She held a five dollar bill out to him. “I thank you for the coffee.”

  “You put that back in your purse right now, young lady. I am buying the coffee, even if you are deserting me.”

  Lena grinned at his stern tone. “I don’t mean to, but this meeting is very important.”

  “Then how do I see you again?”

  She didn’t have time to argue, and didn’t want to be rude to the only person who had been kind to her that morning.

  “I work mornings at the bakery on Cuba Street. You come see me. I make yabluchnyk for you. The customers love it.”

  His face beamed and he nodded. “I will, Lena Moroz.”

  “And thank you for what you did for me.” She gazed at him and smiled. “You come see me.”

  With that, she hurried away, feeling strangely elated by her short meeting with a stranger. He had to be at least twenty years older, but it had been a long time since any man had been charming to her, and especially one who spoke her language. He was certainly attractive, and Lena was startled to feel a blush come to her face.

  “Don’t be stupid,” she growled at herself, but she couldn’t dismiss the spark of happiness the moment had brought her, or the hope that she would see him again.

  * * * * *

  “This is ridiculous.” Mairead stared out at the St. James Theatre across the road and shook her head. “What time is it, please, Chandi?”

  The young, Indian man turned to her, where she sat in the back seat. “It is three fifteen. I do not think your friend comes.”

  “So much for wanting to find her daughter.”

  “May I ask who this woman is, Mairead?”

  “She’s been putting posters up in the pubs and clubs, some Ukrainian woman, whose daughter has been missing for two years.”

  Chandi nodded. “I have seen one of these posters. Her daughter is very pretty.”

  “She is, and I met her once at the club. I wish I had known back then that she was missing. I think she’s a sex worker.”

  “Then she will not want to be found. It would be shameful for her.”

  Mairead smirked. “Don’t be so condescending, Chandi. Prostitution is a legitimate industry and the girls who work it deserve respect, not shame.”

  He shrugged. “But maybe not in her country. In India, prostitutes are everywhere. They do not get respect, only beatings. Many are murdered and the authorities turn a blind eye.”

  “That’s awful. Some of these girls don’t have a choice. It’s the fucking twenty-first century. When do men stop thinking they have a fucking right to treat women so badly?”

  Chandi looked at her. “I am sorry. I do not feel this way about women. I always try to be very kind.”

  “I’m sorry, Chandi. I know you are a good man, and I know that women can be just as evil. I’m just having some anger issues at the moment.”

  “I am frightened for you, Mairead, like when I first met you.”

  “Don’t be. I’m taking care of myself, while James is away visiting his parents.”

  “And this is why I’m afraid.” Chandi frowned at her. “I know that James is not in England. The girls tell me that they don’t know where James is, and there have been police…”

  “Chandi, please.” Mairead breathed deeply as she bowed her head. “I can’t tell you what’s happened. I’m sorry, but it’s bad and I haven’t got a lot of people I can trust right now, or who won’t be in danger because of me. Please don’t ask me about this.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Just let me be one of those you can trust and I will ask nothing.”

  A single tear rolled down her face. “You are, Chandi, and I may need your help again before this is over, but I have to ask you not to mention seeing me at all to anyone, not even the girls.”

  “I will not say a word. Now, look, Mairead. I think there is a woman there now.”

  Mairead looked out and saw a woman standing out the front of the theatre, gazing about as if she was lost.

  “Okay. I’m going to head down to the museum. Are you sure you are alright with this?”

  “I take her on drive through city and make sure no one is following. Then I bring her to you.”

  “Good luck, Chandi,” Mairead said as she got out. “And thank you. I will ring you later.”

  She watched his taxi pull away as she retrieved her bike. Putting her helmet on, she studied the woman who had begun pacing, looking up and down the road.

  “I’ll see you soon, Lena Moroz. Let’s hope we can help each other.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  After several detours, Lena was growing annoyed. She leaned forward to address the driver.

  “I don’t have much money and you are driving all over the place. Where are we going?”

  “We’ll be there soon,” Chandi assured her. “I am just following instructions and the fare has been paid for.”

  “Whose instructions?”

  “Someone comes to me and gives me some money and tells me what I need to do.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “A young woman. She seemed very nice.”

  Lena frowned. “I think this woman plays tricks on me. She gets you to take me on ride and then she not be there to meet me.”

  “She will be there, and if she isn’t, I’ll drive you home, free of charge.”

  “Very well, then.” Lena sat back, still frowning and sensing the driver was more involved than he was letting on. A thought occurred to her and she opened her bag, taking out a poster. She pushed it through the seats.

  “I look for my daughter who has been missing for two years. This woman says she can help me. Maybe you keep this in your taxi and show to other drivers.”

  Chandi took the poster and glanced at it. “I will do my best.”

  They didn’t speak again until the taxi veered off onto a small road where other taxis were lined up. Lena looked out at the strange building he had brought her to. There was a distinct lack of windows in such a large place. One half of the building was beige and rounded while the other half was grey and rectangular.

  �
�What is this place?”

  “Te Papa,” Chandi smiled. “Our centre of culture and learning. Our museum.”

  She could see families and individuals walking in and out of it. There were worse places to be dumped for a joke.

  “How will I know this woman?”

  “She tells me that you just walk in and she will come to you.”

  Lena wasn’t convinced, but she thanked the driver and got out, making her way slowly to the entrance. She was nearly to the door when she noticed a hooded figure heading straight for her. A few steps away, the head came up and Lena could see a pretty face.

  “Mrs. Moroz?”

  “Yes.” Lena frowned warily.

  “There’s a seat over there. Let’s go and sit down.”

  Lena followed her to a seat where a bike was leaning against the back. They sat down together and Mairead pulled back the hood a little, glancing about, before smiling at Lena.

  “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I was delayed. I didn’t mean to be late.”

  “It’s alright. You’re here now.”

  “You’re so young. Are you are a friend of my daughter?”

  “No. I met her at a night club on New Year’s Eve.”

  Lena gasped a breath and her lip trembled. “You saw my Greta?”

  Mairead nodded. “I can only tell you that she looked well. We spoke for a short time and she told me her name.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “She told me that you had named her and that she was from Ukraine.”

  “I did,” Lena sobbed quietly. “I called her Greta. Did she say anything else about me?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s alright. I have been a terrible mother to her. We parted badly and she is angry with me. When her stepfather died, it was a terrible time for us and Greta wanted to be away from me. She came here to learn about this culture… Greta’s real father was Maori. He came to my country years ago… It’s a long story, and I was a different girl back then. I don’t blame Greta for not wanting to talk to me.”