Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  “It’s not about individual honour or courage,” Semyon told her. “This man is the key to Russia’s future. We need him alive to return with us, where we can extract vital information which will give us a far greater advantage over our enemies.”

  “I don’t want to hear any of that bullshit. That was not what this was about. You told me none of this.” She looked at Yuri. “Did you know about this?”

  “Asya, listen to me,” Yuri replied. “You will still get your revenge…”

  “Our revenge,” she screamed back at him. “Do you remember any of that, Yuri, what we always talked of, what we promised our whole lives to achieve?”

  “And then we grew up, and had to live in the real world. All that you want will be given to you, but first let us use this man for our country. Can you not see how much more we avenge our father’s death by doing this?”

  She shook her head slowly in disgust. “Our father hated the government. They threw him in prison if you recall, along with this pig, who ended up betraying him.” She turned to Dylan. “And I want to know why? You’re going to tell me why you betrayed my father, you filthy cunt, or I’m going to rip that fucking cock from your body.”

  Dylan remained silent, staring down at the floor, but Semyon gripped Asya’s arm and spun her back to face him, before slamming his fist into her stomach. She doubled up, her mouth gaping as she struggled to breathe. Through her watering eyes, she noticed Yuri standing back, not looking at her.

  “Now you will listen,” Semyon told her quietly. “You are going to do as you’re told. We’re leaving here in an hour and returning to the Embassy. The police have no jurisdiction there and in a few days, we will have the papers we need to leave this country without further incident.”

  She breathed heavily with her pain and scowled up at him. “You’re just another fucking traitor to the name of Ivanchenko.”

  He smirked. “What do you even know about your father, Asya? You’re living in a fantasy your brother created for you. I could show you the files of the atrocities he committed, the crimes that our fathers carried out in the name of his precious brotherhood. Of course he hated the Kremlin. He had no love for our country, no desire to see anything other than his own empire.”

  Asya looked at Yuri. “And you support this?”

  “I’m sorry, Asya, but what Semyon says is true. You never knew him, but as young as I was, I still have memories of him, of the terror I felt towards him. I just tried to make it different for you. Semyon has explained to me his fight against the Western ideology that is spreading through Europe towards us, that dares to put sanctions upon us and inflict us with their democracy. It is time to push back, to reclaim what is ours.”

  “A democracy you have lived in for the past several years, you fucking hypocrite.”

  Yuri shrugged. “I make good money here and the government is easily influenced to see things our way.”

  “Until Adele Easton fucked it up for you.”

  “Adele Easton will be dead before any of her accusations can gain momentum,” Semyon said. “All of them will be dead, because I will oversee it myself. I’ve already arranged trained operatives to be here, men who actually know what they’re doing, which I should have done in the first place.”

  “I brought Zaleski to your attention,” Asya insisted. “You would have had nothing if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Duly noted, Asya,” Semyon smiled. “The Kremlin owes you a debt.”

  “Fuck the Kremlin. Fuck all of you.” She gave Dylan a parting glare before striding towards the doors.

  Semyon smirked as she slammed it shut and took one last withering look at Dylan, before turning to Aysa’s men. “Get him dressed and bring him up to the house.”

  There was a loud clanking and scraping of the large metal door as it was slid open and Leo came striding into the room, followed by three other men. One was short and balding, and Dylan guessed him to be the doctor Greta had spoken of. They headed towards the back as Leo came to join the others.

  “The truck is nearly here,” he announced. “I need to get those bitches sedated and out of here.” He stopped to stare in disgust at Dylan and laughed as he eyed Semyon. “What’s up with Asya? She’s looking bitchier than she usually does.”

  “She doesn’t like our plans,” Semyon explained. “Maybe when we’re finished with this cunt, we’ll cut his dick off and have it bronzed for her to play with.”

  Yuri’s face darkened. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Have some fucking respect, and you shouldn’t have hit her. Don’t forget, she found this son of a bitch for you.”

  “Of course,” Semyon smiled. “I’ll talk to her. She’ll see things our way.” He checked his watch. “It’s nearly twelve. Let’s get things moving and get out of here.”

  Leo took another look at Dylan and laughed, just as one of his men came running towards him. His face was ashen.

  “They’re gone. They’re all fucking gone.”

  “What do you mean they’re gone?”

  “Erik. Sven, they’re both dead, and the girls are all gone.”

  Leo shook his head and started running towards the door.

  Dylan knew what he would find and the timing couldn’t have been better. Asya’s men had cut the cables that held him and freed his ankles from the spreader bar. Like the others, they were momentarily distracted by the shouts and commotion outside the building.

  In one swift movement, Dylan snatched up the bar, leapt up and swung it straight into the temple of the nearest man. He was already turning to the next before the first had hit the ground.

  The man rushed to grab him, only to have the bar smashed into his face, sending a flowering spray of blood and teeth spattering onto the concrete. Dylan backed up, glancing behind him toward the tiled wet area, before bracing for the rush of men coming at him. Semyon advanced furiously, aiming a pistol. The shot rang out loudly, amplified and echoing within the confines of the building.

  Dylan toppled backwards as the bullet tore through the muscle of his thigh. A few inches lower it would have taken out his kneecap. He dropped the bar and fell down to the floor, his face agonised as he clutched his leg.

  Semyon was still pointing the gun at him as Leo returned and rushed straight past, his face contorted with rage. “Where are they? What the fuck have you done with them?”

  He launched a savage kick to Dylan’s side and was ready to deliver another before Semyon grabbed him and shoved him aside. “Leave him. We’ll find them.”

  “My men are in there with their throats cut,” he screamed. “This prick was here last night. He fucking came here during the night.”

  Semyon frowned and suddenly glared down at Dylan, who seemed much too calm, considering the extent of his injuries. In fact, he was grinning.

  “Nice Rolex, Semyon,” Dylan uttered wearily, still breathing hard with his pain. I hear they keep perfect time, so in the last thirty seconds of your life, I want you to fucking know. This is for Tammy.”

  Frowning curiously at his Rolex, his eyes slowly widened. He gasped and swept a wild gaze about the building.

  “It’s wired,” he yelled. “The fucking place is wired to blow.”

  The others stood dumbfounded as Semyon broke into a desperate sprint towards the side door, managing only several metres before he was engulfed in a massive fire ball.

  PART FOUR

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Wellington, five days later

  The reception desk, lobby and main entrance looked more akin to a hotel than a private hospital. It was carpeted in a plush dark grey, with L-shaped leather couches and coffee tables on both sides of the double doors. There was soft lighting and the area lacked the bustle of either a hotel or a hospital.

  As James emerged from the hallway, Ron Stewart rose from a couch and held out his hand.

  “Good to see you, James.”

  “You, too, Ron.” James shook his hand and they took their seats. “Thank you for coming in.”
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br />   “How’s Mairead doing?”

  James frowned. “Physically, she’s doing well. The baby is active and the doctor says that everything is as it should be. Mentally, she’s struggling. She’s still withdrawn and has barely said a word. The nightmares are back and she’s suspicious of anyone who comes through the door, which is why I have to keep this short.”

  “Of course,” Ron nodded. “A few things to report. The Inspector General of Intelligence has launched an investigation into how yours and Mairead’s arrests were handled. The Independent Police Conduct Authority is being brought in, but it’s difficult to pin this on anyone, because it was all initiated on official intelligence from Bevan Miller, who is currently missing. Thanks to Adele and the camera footage, there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

  James expression darkened. “If I don’t get my hands on him first. Why aren’t we being told any of this in the media?”

  “I imagine the government will be doing damage control and keeping this under wraps, until they know what they’re up against. Adele has accused Miller of having connections with Russian organised crime. Firstly, they have to get hold of Miller and find out the exact nature of his involvement.”

  “Off the record,” James said. “Sean Kavanagh has told me there are calls for Kutcher’s resignation, having been the one to recommend him for Director of Intelligence. How does someone like that get into government, let alone be given the power he had?”

  Ron nodded. “A lot of people asking the same question, James. Has Mairead told you anything else?”

  “No. She won’t talk about any of it to me or the police. The doctor has strongly advised against trying to push too hard before she’s ready, but it’s not easy. She was badly assaulted. How bad, I don’t know. No-one knows what happened to her since Vanessa saw her at the club. We have no idea of what happened between her and Sophie, or rather Asya Ivanchenko, but I know it has everything to do with that bombing on the coast.”

  “And, unfortunately, we’re not about to get any answers anytime. The SIS are keeping a tight lid on that as well, despite the media screaming for answers.”

  “Whose house was it?”

  “A Russian billionaire, Vitaly Ashrukov, who passed away from cancer a few years ago, but his son, Leo, had been occupying the house. All we know is that up to twelve people were killed. The house, other buildings, all taken out in varying degrees.”

  “And Adele? What’s happening there?”

  “She’s being held in custody in a psych facility. The extent of her confession is damning, but the judge is reluctant to press ahead until a psychiatric evaluation determines her state of mind. Nothing’s going to happen there for a while.”

  “I don’t understand.” James shook his head. “With Barry Underhill dead, there was no evidence. She could have got away with it. What made her change her mind?”

  “Overwhelming guilt?” Ron surmised. “We may never know. From what we can gather, her investigation into Dylan Tyler caused Bevan Miller to bring in the Russian mercenaries responsible for her parents’ murder. She has since retracted that Tyler had any involvement.”

  James exhaled deeply. “I hated her for what she did to Mairead, but I can’t help feeling sorry for what she’s been through recently, and I can’t forget it was her confession that got me out.”

  “About that. The toxicology report came back and Brendan North died from strychnine poisoning. Along with Detective Cooper’s description of the attending nurse and the video footage from the hospital, that’s over for you, James. Interestingly enough, the girl in the shot has been identified as a Russian tourist, who left the country the same day. And then we have Asya Ivanchenko’s picture that Mairead sent to Vanessa and the four men who died in that crash were all Russian nationals. Adele’s statement of Russian involvement is becoming more credible every day.”

  “That’s just it,” James frowned. “How did Mairead get that picture?”

  “Yes, the police want to know that as well, but the doctor isn’t about to let them go near her, and neither am I. Be patient, James. Mairead has come through some horrendous ordeals and she’ll get through this one.”

  “I just wish she’d talk to me.”

  At that moment, the woman from behind the reception called out to James. “Mr. Vaughn, you’re needed up in the ward.”

  Both men stood up quickly and James clasped Ron’s hand. “Sorry, Ron, I better go, but thank you. Keep me informed.”

  He ran to the elevators and within minutes he was back on the second floor. Striding down the corridor, he could see the commotion outside Mairead’s room and broke into a run. As he got closer he heard her screaming. Three nurses were holding her, as her doctor emptied the contents of a syringe into her arm.

  “What the hell…” James pushed further into the room.

  One of the nurses blocked his advance. “Mairead had a turn. The doctor is just sedating her. She’s alright, Mr. Vaughn.”

  He pushed past her and got to the bed. “Mairead, I’m here. It’s alright, baby.”

  Her eyes were teary and wild as she sought out his face. Her whole body was shaking and she was moving her mouth trying to talk.

  James gripped her hand. “You’re safe, baby. I’m here and nobody’s going to hurt you. I promise you.”

  She kept staring at him, fearfully. Finally her body calmed and her eyes drooped. She tried to squeeze his hand as she whispered to him. “Forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive, my beautiful girl.” James held back his own tears. He clasped her hand and brought it to his mouth, laying a gentle kiss on her fingers. “You, me and our baby. That’s all that matters.”

  It was another twenty minutes before she closed her eyes completely and settled into a steady breathing pattern. James looked to the nurse who had remained in the room.

  “What happened?”

  “We’re not sure.” She glanced to the wall-mounted screen. “The nurse switched her television on. The news came on about that big mansion that got blown up last week. Mairead became hysterical, screaming that someone was dead because of her and that she was sorry, over and over.”

  James breathed heavily, trying to keep calm. “Take the remote out of here. I don’t want it switched on again.”

  “Of course, and you will be with us another night, Mr. Vaughn?”

  “I’ll be here until I take her home.”

  * * * * *

  Every day, Eddie had watched the bakery until 2pm, well past the time Lena usually finished her shift. There had been no sign of her, and on that fourth morning, he worked up the courage to enter, on the pretence of being a customer.

  It had only taken a view of the bakery goods in the windowed counter to know that she hadn’t been there. Customers were complaining about their favourite delicacies not being available. Behind the counter, the Chinese couple were trying to keep the peace, ensuring everyone Lena would be back.

  Finding the nearest bar, Eddie sat down on a stool so he could see the television mounted on the wall. The midday news and a few stories in the papers were all that was keeping him informed of what had happened at the house. While it hadn’t come as a complete shock, its impact was weighing heavily on him, not knowing who had perished, or worse, who might have survived.

  If it wasn’t for Lena, he would be well out of Wellington and finding somewhere to lay low for the next six months. He kept his phone switched off to avoid all contact and from anyone using the tracking methods that Yuri had told him about.

  Sitting at the bar, Eddie knocked back his Scotch and watched the news, trying not to think about Lena. On both sides of him, patrons were speculating about the explosion that was still topping the headlines.

  “I didn’t even know we had Russians here. Another bunch of fucking foreigners buying up our land. Get them out.”

  “Definitely something to do with what’s happening in the Ukraine at the moment. Retaliation. Fighting their wars on our soil.”

  He’d heard eno
ugh. Eddie got up and headed to the men’s room. The smell of urine hit him as he pushed open the door and stared dejectedly at the filthy facilities. Paper towels were overflowing a waste bin and scattered about on the tiled floor. The urinal was blocked and piss was collecting in the drain.

  It was only his urgent need that forced him to add to its contents, before turning to the sinks. He had only just turned the tap on, when his eyes were drawn to several flyers on the wall. They had been vandalised, with lewd additions drawn upon the central photo of a girl, but they were the same as the one Leo had shown him.

  After five days and no sign of Lena, Eddie could come to no other conclusion. Leo’s men had got hold of her and for all he knew, she could be dead. He wanted to believe that Lena wasn’t his concern, but the more he thought about her, the greater his worry became. He had no idea if Leo had survived, but if he had, Lena could be in desperate trouble.

  . Eddie couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Once he was out on the street, he snatched his phone out and powered it up. His hand was trembling, as he held the phone to his ear.

  After two rings it went straight to a voicemail.

  “Fuck.” He clenched his teeth, looking about as if something would come to him. Suddenly, his phone rang and he stared at the unknown number on his screen. It unnerved him, but he had to know.

  “Hello?”

  There was a long pause before someone spoke. The voice was quiet and feminine, but definitely not Lena.

  “Uncle Eddie?”

  He winced, and tried to calm his breathing. His reply had to be perfect. “Asya? Is it you? Please, tell me, this is you?”

  “Yes, Uncle. I’ve been trying to contact you.” Asya was breathing heavily. “They’re dead, Uncle. Yuri, Semyon, Leo… they’re all dead.”