Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  Every step toward the room was agony, and her courage dimmed as they drew nearer. If she was mistaken, there would be no stopping Olek having his way with her. Pausing outside a door, she breathed in deeply as she opened it to reveal a short flight of gradually widening steps leading to the double doors at the top.

  The men stayed a few steps down as Esther went up to punch the buttons of a numbered panel.

  “Wait,” Miller demanded furiously. “I don’t like this.”

  Olek chuckled. “Stop being paranoid. The girl is right here with us.”

  “Are you forgetting what he did at Leo’s house? Who’s to say he even cares what happens to her? He’s dead. I say we do a complete sweep of this house before we start fucking around in rooms we know nothing about.”

  For the first time, Olek hesitated, though he didn’t look happy about it. Esther silently calculated her chances of entering the code and getting inside before they could get to her.

  Where’s Dominik?” Miller asked. “Why hasn’t he returned to us or called in?”

  “My guess would be that he is back in that wine cellar.”

  “Humour me,” Miller told him firmly. “Just make the call.”

  “Fine.” Olek brought the radio up. “Dominik? Where the fuck are you?”

  There was no reply.

  “Dominik.” He yelled into the radio. “Fucking answer me.”

  There was static and then a voice came back, speaking in Russian. “What?”

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Having a piss.”

  Olek laughed, but spoke back angrily. “Keep out of that fucking wine cellar and you won’t need to empty your bladder so much.”

  He lowered the radio and hooked it back to his belt, glaring at Miller. “Satisfied?”

  “Not really.” He glared at Esther as he pulled his pistol from the back of his belt. “I want her right next to me. Come here.”

  Esther moved closer and Miller grabbed her against him, embracing her with one arm, while resting the muzzle of the pistol on her cheek. Esther yelled as the pain surged through her arm and shoulder.

  “I thought you liked pain,” Miller sneered in her ear. “If you’re trying to deceive us, I’ll show you more pain you ever dreamed of. Now, tell me about this room.”

  “It’s the theatre,” she whimpered. “Like a dungeon, for bondage, discipline, sex…”

  Olek chuckled. “You see, it’s a play room, like one of those fucking clubs where perverts and faggots go. They dress up in leather and beat the shit out of each other.”

  “Alright,” Miller nodded. “I say we take a quick look and move on to the next. Just be aware, Esther, I’ll eventually find your mother. I can’t imagine she shares your tastes, but she can certainly be given an education.”

  Esther pursed her lips tightly and didn’t reply.

  Miller gripped her good arm. “Open the door.”

  Punching the code in, Esther turned the handle and pushed the door open. They stayed outside, but could see the bench under a gleam of light surrounded by darkness.

  His grip grew tighter as Miller moved Esther forward a few feet into the room. Olek walked in confidently and approached the bench, picking up the cane and admiring it. He swished it through the air, creating a deep whooshing sound that made him grin. Looking about, he peered into the darkness.

  “Where’s the lights?”

  “Inside, to the right on the wall,” Esther told him.

  He wandered over, pulling out a small torch from his belt and shining the beam along the wall. Finding the switches he flicked them down and watched the room light up. He was awed to see the size of it, until suddenly, he was pulling out his pistol and aiming it toward the stage.

  Miller pulled Esther back against him, looking in the same direction. They all saw it, the bloodied face and body of a man tied to an upright X at the other end of the stage.

  “Cover me,” Olek yelled back, spinning about and checking every corner of the room. He moved steadily forward, stepping up onto the stage and holding his pistol out in front with both hands.

  Miller moved Esther further into the room, and turned about rapidly, while glancing back at Olek. There were very few places anyone could hide, but the couch caught Miller’s attention as a possibility. Keeping his own pistol aiming ahead, he pushed Esther forward and steadily closed in on it.

  Olek began to yell out, and Esther was wrenched about, continuing to be Miller’s shield as he looked to the other man. Olek was swivelling about in a panic, pointing his gun to every corner as he backed up.

  “It’s Dominik. It’s fucking Dominik. He’s dead.”

  They were staring at him, when Olek’s head suddenly exploded like a melon. Blood, bone and brain splattered in all directions, before his body crumpled to the floor. For a moment they were both transfixed by the horror. Esther screamed as Miller seized her against him, spinning her about wildly while trying to back her up towards the doors.

  The muzzle of the pistol was pushed painfully against her jaw as Miller screamed out. “I’ll kill her. I’ll fucking kill her if you don’t show yourself.”

  It was then that he saw the movement in the open framework above the stage. A shadow was crouching in a corner until it swung down on a metal bar and dropped down onto the stage.

  “Don’t move,” Miller demanded. “Don’t you fucking move or I blow her head off, too. Drop the rifle… now. Drop it or she’s dead.”

  Dylan glared back at him and slowly lowered the rifle to the floor. Getting up again, he put his hands up and slowly stepped towards them. There was a good thirty feet between them, but Esther was strengthened by the sight of him, unlike Miller, who was trembling, his panting breath coming in puffs against her neck. He suddenly brought the muzzle away from her and fired a shot in Dylan’s direction.

  There was a thud and dust flew up where the bullet hit the wall behind him and far to his left.

  “No,” she screamed. “Don’t shoot him.”

  “Shut up,” Miller hissed, quickly returning the muzzle to her jaw as he glared at Dylan. “I swear I’ll kill her.”

  Dylan grinned. “And then it will be just you and me, and I can guarantee you won’t die as quickly as your friend did.” He kept walking forward, and Esther could see the blood all over him. “Dominik wasn’t so lucky. He had a knife going up through his chin to the roof of his mouth, making it near impossible to scream when I pushed his eyeballs out of his skull.”

  “Stop right there,” Miller yelled, and fired off another shot.

  Again, he missed, but Dylan stopped. “I’ll make you a deal. Let Esther go, and I’ll give you the mercy of a quick death, but that’s the only deal you’ll get. Otherwise I’m going to make it last for a very long time.”

  “Or I could shoot you,” Miller yelled back. “And leave you alive long enough to see what I do to your bitch.”

  “You’re not doing too well, so far. You need to calm down, point the gun, aim and shoot. It’s not that hard.”

  “We’re leaving,” Miller told him angrily.

  Dylan shook his head. “No you’re not. Your friends are dead and I’ve put your vehicles out of action. This is the end of the road.”

  “If you think this ends with me,” Miller laughed. “You’re highly mistaken. The co-ordinates of this place are already with the people who matter. Men will be here in hours and within days, our finest computer analysts will be here to take charge of Zirconia.”

  “No they won’t be,” Dylan smiled. “I’ve heard every word spoken and you haven’t contacted anyone yet. Besides, it’s too late. The moment Esther entered the code I gave her, final protocol was initiated. Right now, Zirconia has begun to destroy itself.”

  “No.” Miller shook his head. “You wouldn’t do that, not just discard a program like Zirconia. You don’t develop something like that to fucking destroy it.”

  “I hardly used it. It was more of curiosity to see what it could do. I killed a lot of men to ma
ke sure it wasn’t ever created quite the same again.”

  “So why not destroy it back then?”

  “First, one must know the nature of the beast before you can kill it effectively. At the time, I was working blindly for a bunch of corrupt individuals determined to shape the destiny of the Soviet. It was already crumbling, but there were plans to restore it. They’d come to understand their restrictions by hiding behind the Iron Curtain, though they always had men like you, out there, keeping watch on the world.”

  Miller scowled. “Even with your virus, you weren’t going to stop what was inevitable.”

  “I didn’t need to,” Dylan grinned. “As the former Soviet States became independent, they discovered for themselves what it meant to be free of dictators. They don’t need my help. Every one of them will fight before they ever again allow someone to tell them what to believe and how to live. Your beloved comrades found that out when they tried to take back Ukraine.”

  “Spoken like a true Ukrainian.” Miller fired the gun.

  Esther screamed as she saw Dylan’s face contorted in agony as the impact sent him staggering backwards and dropping to the floor. She tried to struggle from Miller’s grip, only for him to violently jerk her arm.

  Pain flooded through her, her screams becoming gasps of agony, as she fought to stop herself from passing out. Her vision clouded over, and she might have fallen if Miller wasn’t holding her so tightly against himself.

  Miller was breathing heavily and shaking, and in the fog of her eyesight she was able to make out the source of his terror. Dylan was getting up.

  “Fucking die.” Miller shot again but missed, sending dust and splinters flying up from the floor. He pushed her forward, narrowing the gap between them.

  “Master, run,” she called weakly, breaking down into tears. “Please, Master.”

  “Esther,” Dylan called to her. “Don’t struggle. Stay just as you are.”

  “He’ll kill you,” she sobbed.

  “And I gave you an order. Don’t disobey me.”

  Miller continued to shove her forward, pointing the pistol at Dylan and finally getting close enough that even his shaking hand couldn’t miss the shot.

  “You’re finished, Tyler,” he snarled, taking aim at his head. “This time stay dead.”

  Only a gasp escaped Esther as she saw Dylan’s sudden movement. She felt a rush of air and saw the spray of blood, before she felt its warm stickiness running down into her hair. Miller’s grip on her slackened and his arm fell away. He made a gurgled groan before falling to the floor behind her. Esther couldn’t move, but her entire body was trembling as Dylan slowly came toward her.

  Only when she was in his careful embrace, did she look back at Miller’s lifeless body. The hilt of the knife was protruding from his eye and a pool of blood was slowly spreading out around his head. Her stomach heaved, and she pulled away as she threw up.

  When she looked back, Dylan was lying on the floor, his eyes closed and his face taut with pain.

  “Master.” Esther dropped down beside him and crouched over him anxiously. “Master, are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed deeply, squinting up at her. “But I’m getting too fucking old for this bullshit.”

  She sobbed and looked over his body. “You were hit.”

  “I have a vest on, but it still fucking hurts. How’s your arm?”

  “It’s killing me, but Master, there was another man, Eddie. He saved my life and that man shot him and threw him out of the car…”

  “And I found him,” Dylan told her. “I’m sorry, Esther. He didn’t make it, but he told me how incredibly brave you were.”

  Esther pursed her lips tightly and nodded, as tears ran down her face. She eyed him anxiously. “Melissa, Greta?”

  “Safe,” he smiled, slowly getting up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  He put his arm around and led her from the room. They returned to his study, where Dylan eased himself onto the couch. He patted his lap and Esther sat down in it and curled up, still crying quietly.

  “Just breathe.” He stroked her hair. “And I’m going to need to look at that arm.”

  “My shoulder,” she sobbed. “Hurting so much.”

  “Probably dislocated. I’ll give you something for the pain before I set it.”

  “Not yet.”

  Dylan spoke into his lapel microphone. “Yvette, I’m going to need Carl as soon as possible. Also get word to the others and let them know I have Esther. I’m switching off for a while now, and shut the camera off in here.”

  Dylan turned off the radio at his belt and took the earpiece out, before leaning back against the couch. For a while they just sat in silence until Esther spoke.

  “You know what I did, to get Olek into the theatre.”

  “Yvette relayed it all to me,” he told her. “I’m proud of you, and I can’t say sorry enough for what I’ve put you through.”

  Esther smiled, “I’d do it again.”

  “No, I’ll never put you through anything like that again. I failed you, Esther. I promised to care for you, to keep you safe from the world. Instead I nearly got you killed and worse.”

  She shifted carefully to look at him. “I’m a mess. My arm is killing me, but I’ve never felt like this. It’s weird, but I feel… I feel incredible. I can’t believe what I’ve survived and I’m not ashamed of what I did. He wanted to make me ashamed, to feel weak and helpless against him, but I wouldn’t let him. Instead, I used his own weakness against him.”

  “Esther I’m pleased you’re not tearing yourself up about what that prick did to you, but I’m ashamed, devastated that you had to suffer that for me. Nobody should be subjected to what you’ve been through.”

  “And you would know.” She gazed at him. “Because you’ve known what it’s like to be violated and abused. Eddie told me what happened in Russia, when you were in prison with him.”

  Dylan shut his eyes and slowly shook his head. “He had no business telling you that.”

  “But he did, and I’m glad he did, because now I know why you care so much, and why people like me draw so much strength from you.”

  “That stays between you and me.”

  “I know.”

  He smiled. “You’re going to have a great life, Esther, and always remember that you have my love and gratitude.”

  She smiled and nodded. “I will, Master.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

  After the helicopter had taken off, Dylan returned to the house. The silence greeted him and for a moment he stood in the hallway, wishing he had gone with the others. It was going to be a long night, with some unpleasant work ahead of him and he was already exhausted.

  Something was playing on his mind, and he strode to the adjoining hall and headed for Tammy’s bedroom.

  The door was open, but as he entered he was overcome with emotion. Tears spilled over and he had to sit on her bed, succumbing to grief and weariness. In all his years he had never wept as he did at that moment, to the point that his entire body was shaking. It angered him that he could be that helpless and unable to summon his usual iron resolve.

  It was a while before he calmed enough to remember what he’d come for. The porcelain doll was lying on the floor. Picking it up, he stared at it and thought about what Miller had spoken of in this room.

  It had been enough dealing with one enemy, let alone three, but now he understood what he’d been up against. It was no secret to him that Russian sleeper agents were still being used long after the Cold War had ended. It had surprised him that one had been planted in New Zealand, which had obviously been known to Mary.

  For a moment, Dylan had hoped for a revelation of her killer. Miller had certainly planned to kill her, but he wasn’t taking the credit. What Dylan hadn’t known was the pivotal role Miller had played in Tammy’s life and that of her child.

  Thinking back to that day in France, Dylan could only curse, having sent Mary away without allowing her to speak
. It was even more damning that she might have lived if he had listened. If he hadn’t been so stubborn, he might have asked the questions that mattered.

  The adoption of Tammy’s child by Deputy Prime Minister Kutcher had been done too efficiently and the paperwork tied up too neatly. An endearing scenario had been successfully portrayed to the public, of the Kutcher’s fight to have a family and their kindness in adopting a Romanian orphan. Someone had pulled some powerful strings and it should have demanded his interest and set off the same alarm bells it had for Mary.

  The doll almost seemed amused by his dilemma. Dylan was surprised she had lasted so many years. Tammy had possessed a tendency to throw things in her tantrums and many fragile objects had seen their demise at her hand. The doll had survived several outbursts, but her white feathered hat was coming loose from the crude stitching in her hair.

  Dylan peered closer, noticing how badly it was done, compared to the rest of the fine workmanship. Lifting up the hat, the stitches slipped out and the hat could be pulled back further to reveal more auburn curls. Something black was showing through them.

  Pinching it, Dylan cursed quietly as he drew out a tiny USB drive.

  “You always did have to have the last word, didn’t you, Mary?”

  His mirth slowly faded and he felt the weight of his years, the regrets and shame of losing lives that could never be restored. At that moment, he would have given up everything, just to have Lena with him, to hear her giggling or nagging him or igniting his temper, anything other than the accusing silence of memories.

  He stared at the drive and breathed deeply. “Alright, Mary. Talk to me. This time I’m listening.”

  * * * * *

  The moment Lena knew Jahn wasn’t returning that night, she got Vanessa to take her home, where she could be alone. It was nearly two in the morning when she climbed into her own bed, exhausted and fighting the urge to find something to help her sleep. Being back in her room, it almost seemed as if the past days had been a dream. Grief seemed the only real part of it, knowing Eddie was gone. The only comfort was parting as friends and her cruel words had not been her last to him.