As sleep evaded her, Lena lay there thinking. History had taught many cruel lessons about anticipating her future. Why should it be any different now? Jahn had even less incentive to return to her and all the more to gain by simply vanishing again. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became how foolish she was to believe anything else.
Even if he did return, Lena knew she had nothing to offer that would ever compare to the life he had led. At least in Ukraine, his life had been simple. Now it was a spectacle of wealth, power and beautiful women who satisfied his carnal needs.
How had she ever believed she was enough for him? This was a man called Master, who demanded the entitlements the title suggested. To believe he would give that up for her, was probably the greatest delusion she had ever entertained.
Throwing her covers off, Lena sprang from her bed and went to the window, throwing it open to breathe in the cold air. She was sweating and her hands were trembling, reminding her it had been a while since she’d had a drink. Somewhere in the house there would be something that would take the pain away.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
The Beehive was prominent in the background as a young man addressed the camera, beginning with a greeting to his unseen anchor man. “Yes, Mike, it’s been seven days and there’s been no official statement forthcoming from the Government regarding the whereabouts of GCSB director, Bevan Miller, who was on official leave, pending an investigation into alleged misconduct.
“Speculations on social media continue to sprout theories of connections between his disappearance and recent events at Eastbourne, where a number of blasts completely destroyed the house and property of Leo Ashrukov, which claimed at least nine lives.
“To add fuel to many conspiracy theories, internet service providers throughout New Zealand, continue to deal with major disruptions to networks and have yet to find what the problem is, with losses in the millions to many major corporations.”
Kutcher switched the screen off and tossed the remote aside, just as his wife and daughter entered the room. Rising from the couch, he opened his arms to catch the young girl running to embrace him.
He loved the way Holly always expressed a childlike excitement over the most mundane events. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been to the movies hundreds of time with her mother, yet she treated each outing as eagerly as if it was the first time for her.
At nineteen, and with her small, plump, stature, Holly was still his little girl and in no hurry to explore the world of boyfriends and night clubs, as her other friends were doing. Her love of animals had made up her mind to be a veterinarian, and she was studying hard to achieve her goals. He was as proud of her as any father could be, and overjoyed that she wasn’t ready to discard her parents for total independence.
Her cheeks were dimpling as she smiled up at him. “Come with us, Dad. We’re going to go for lunch after the movie and do some shopping. It will be great fun.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he grinned. “I’ve got too much work today, but…” He pulled out his wallet and snatched some notes out, stuffing them into her hand. “You buy something you like and you can tell me all about your day at dinner tonight.”
Holly grinned. “You spoil me, Dad, and you’ve done nothing but work lately. Tonight we should get pizza and have a game of Monopoly, like we used to, before you became a big shot.”
“You’re on,” Kutcher laughed. “But I get to be the boot.”
“I prefer the little dog, anyway.” She tiptoed up to peck his cheek, and turned to her mother with a toss of her auburn hair. “We have to go. I don’t want to miss the previews.”
Kutcher had just enough time to kiss his wife goodbye before she was being hurried out. Closing the door after them, he chuckled as he returned to the lounge room, thinking how much he wished he could join them.
In two hours, he was due in Parliament to face a barrage of questions he had no answers to. There was no getting around that he had personally recommended Miller’s appointment to Intelligence to oversee the security of their country. Now Miller was being sought for questioning over the murder of Lance and Vivian Easton.
His attention was drawn to a picture of Holly at her high school graduation. Picking it up, he sombrely stared at it and remembered what Miller had said to him, that he would regret not throwing his support behind him. Every day, not knowing where Miller was, meant he had reason for grave concern.
The depth of loss he faced was incomprehensible and each day made a drastic solution more conceivable. Only death kept secrets buried, and would allow his wife and daughter the dignity they deserved. At least he would be loved and remembered for the good he had done, rather than a scandal that would rock the halls of Parliament.
His dark thoughts were disturbed by a click. Turning around, fear jerked him from the seat and had his pulse racing as he looked at the gun and the man in a ski mask, staring back at him.
“Sit back down, Mr. Kutcher.”
He slowly took his seat and watched the gunman stroll closer. “What do you want?”
“A conversation which I’d prefer to do without this gun.”
“You’ve got no arguments from me,” Kutcher told him.
“Just be aware that you wouldn’t make it if you tried to escape or alert anyone. I have no intention of harming you otherwise.”
“Who are you?”
“Right now, I’m your best friend or your worst enemy. The choice is yours.”
Kutcher watched the man get his laptop from a sideboard and bring it back to the coffee table in front of him. He sat down and put the gun down as he opened the laptop and started it up.
“Bevan Miller is dead. Within the next couple of days they will find his boat out at sea, some fishing gear and some personal items, as well as a number of empty bottles of Irish whisky. I believe that was his drink of choice.”
Kutcher frowned. “It was. Are you saying Miller has met with an accident?”
“He staged something similar once, so I’m hoping to get the same outcome.”
“I don’t understand.”
Dylan ripped the ski mask off. “These things are fucking hot and uncomfortable.”
Kutcher gaped to see him. “Dylan Tyler… your name was brought up…”
“Until Adele helped dismiss that accusation, though the investigation and border alert haven’t been closed on me yet. Speaking of Adele, I’ll expect you to use some of your influence to lighten her sentence. She learned a hard lesson and she’s truly remorseful. I think she could do with a break.”
“Sure,” Kutcher nodded warily. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
“It’s about how much you love your family and what you’re prepared to do to keep them happy.”
Kutcher glared at him. “My wife, my daughter… they just left here…”
“And they’re on their way to the movies. Holly is a beautiful girl and looks more like her mother as she gets older.”
Dylan pulled a photo from his jacket and tossed it in front of Kutcher.
“Who’s this?” Kutcher picked the photo up and stared at it.
“Her name was Ashley Tait and she never lived in Romania. She lived right here in New Zealand and Holly was the baby Miller stole from her, after he faked Ashley’s death, while she was pregnant. How much of that did you know?”
Kutcher stared at him and bowed his head. “I didn’t know anything about the mother, because I didn’t want to know. Miller just gave me the baby and helped prepare the documents. There were many children being adopted from Romania at that time. I accepted Miller’s story and never asked any questions. I didn’t want to. Helen couldn’t take another disappointment.”
“No, and you made sure Miller got his foot in the door for the job he wanted and then oversaw his succession into a position he should never have had. I don’t think the people of this country would appreciate a Russian sleeper agent heading up New Zealand’s Intelligence Service.”
“Tha
t’s insane,” Kutcher laughed. “I know Miller did some crooked dealings from time to time, but what you’re saying…”
Dylan threw a USB drive in front of him. “You’ll find everything you need to know about him on there, but I suggest you destroy that once you’ve had a look. Many KGB files were destroyed after the Soviet collapsed, but there’s enough there to give you a few headaches, especially if the Americans get wind of this.”
“My god,” Kutcher gasped. “Where did you get this from?”
“From one of the greatest assets this country ever had. Mary Whittaker was loyal to her death, and I want her remembered that way. Her heart belonged to the welfare of the people and she would have done anything to protect them, including me.”
“It was you with her that night.”
“You don’t have to be concerned with me. If I had wanted to harm this country, I would have done it long ago. I’m here now to undo the harm that has been done, and help you off the hook.”
“Why would you want to help me?”
“Because for all your faults, you’ve been a good father to Holly. You’re going to go on protecting her and making sure she has the best life possible, the one her mother couldn’t have.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”
“This warrant for my arrest. I didn’t kill Kenneth Lister. He was a good friend and didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”
Kutcher nodded. “I can see what I can do…”
“It’s done. In a few days, I’ll be flying in on a private jet, having records that I’ve spent the past six months working in Ukraine. I was never here during any of the recent events, as my visa and passport will clearly support. The Police Commissioner will make a public apology for false allegations made during my absence after they find evidence of Miller seeking to influence legislation of the GCSB.”
“So the whole lot is going to fall squarely on Miller’s shoulders, including the Easton’s assassination.”
“It will, just as it should.”
“And what of Holly’s real mother?”
“She was shot and killed, saving my life from the Russians that Miller brought into this country with your signature.”
“Oh, god. I’m so sorry…” Kutcher shook his head. “You must understand, I haven’t understood half of what’s been happening. I’ve been taking Miller’s word for it. And now I’m taking yours. How do I even know what you’re telling me is true?”
“Because Mary Whittaker took DNA from Holly and matched it to Ashley Tait. It’s all in that file.”
Kutcher gasped quietly. “What happened to Mary?”
“Just watch the file and make sure she gets honoured the way she should have been.”
“And you,” Kutcher said. “I want to know what you want. Am I exchanging one enemy to this country for another?”
“No,” Dylan replied. “All I want to do is live in peace. After today, you won’t hear from me ever again, unless you come looking for me, and I will know if you do. I have no wish to get involved in the affairs of this country or any other.”
Kutcher studied him. “Any chance you want to tell me who the hell you are?”
“Just a man,” Dylan smiled, as he stood up and pocketed his pistol. “So do we have an understanding, Mr. Kutcher?”
“Yes, if not for myself, but for Holly and all this insanity to disappear.” He peered up at Dylan. “Did you kill Mary?”
“No, but I didn’t save her either, and it took this long to realise I was wrong. Take my advice, Mr. Kutcher. The sins of the father can be too easily visited upon the children, so for Holly’s sake, learn what you need to know and then destroy those files. Then live with your guilt, just as l live with mine.”
Dylan pulled the ski mask back on and walked away.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Paris, 2005
The alcohol on his breath was overpowering, but Mary pretended not to notice as she smiled at Brendan. He had changed a lot in six years from the young, friendly journalist who had spoken with her in the Diamond Bar. His jaw was covered with a thick stubble and his bleary eyes were looking her over as if she was something vulgar.
“How the fuck did you even know I was in Paris?” he asked.
“Because I made certain assurances that you would be here. I needed somewhere to speak to you where we were unlikely to be observed by media, and I wanted to give you an enjoyable holiday, which would conclude in a substantial employment offer.”
He peered at her. “This was you? You’re my fucking job interview?”
“Mr. North. I understand that this situation is less than desirable, but it’s imperative I speak…”
“Less than desirable? You fucking bitch, you’re setting me up for something, aren’t you?”
“Not at all.” Mary waved her hands and shook her head. “I’m trying to correct a terrible injustice… If you would just give me two minutes…”
Brendan glared at her. “Yeah, well I’m not fucking going to give you anything while standing out here, with all your fucking spy dogs watching us. I know what you do now, and if you think you’re going to fuck me over again, you can get fucked.”
“Your car,” Mary said quickly. “I had a rental arranged in the package I sent you. Did you bring it tonight?”
“Yeah, it’s here, along with the fancy hotel and the business class tickets and the ten thousand salary advance. I should have known it was too good to be true. How did you even know I applied for a position here?”
“That doesn’t matter. Brendan, whether you believe me or not, I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past six years, what I did to you… I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”
“So you admit it. It was you I saw that night in the carpark, whoring yourself to that tattooed freak.”
Mary bowed her head and frowned. “It’s not my life I want to discuss, it’s yours, how I can turn it around for you, make up a small fraction of what I took from you. I’m in a position to do that now and the job offer is real, except you wouldn’t be a journalist… you would own your own newspaper, reporting some of the best and exclusive stories before any other news media…”
Brendan laughed cynically. “You’re a fucking piece of work, aren’t you? Have you got any true fucking idea what you took from me?”
“Yes, I do,” Mary nodded. “I took your marriage, your career and reputation. I drove you from your home and completely ruined you. My offer won’t alleviate my conscience or restore any of what you’ve lost but it might just give you a little satisfaction.”
“Suppose I believe you,” Brendan said, looking around. “I’m not discussing this on your turf. I’ve got the car down by the station. We’ll go there and talk or you can shove this whole thing up your arse, and before we go anywhere, I want to know who’s with you.”
“I swear, nobody is with me. Nobody knows I’m in Paris. I’m supposed to be in London, and do you really believe I want anyone privy to this conversation?”
“Yeah, alright, but if I see anyone following us... you’ll be one fucking sorry bitch. I’ll make sure the whole world sees you with me. Let’s go.”
Mary half ran to keep up with him as Brendan headed to the other end of the bridge. He slowed down towards the end and glared at her.
“Who was he, the man you met that night?”
“That’s not important. He was just a man that suited me.”
Brendan laughed. “Everyone thought you were this innocent, boring old witch, when you were actually a proper tramp, and that guy wasn’t your average Joe. I don’t think you do average, do you, Mary? You like the kinky stuff.”
“Please, Mr. North, I’d rather not discuss my peculiarities. I’m hoping for a future liaison between us, conducting a thoroughly professional establishment which will be highly reputable and informing, and profitable as well, with you at the helm.”
“But you still like these clandestine meetings at night.”
“Not at all. You refused my
first attempt to meet with you this morning. I believe you weren’t feeling well.”
“I was piss crook, and it was like six in the fucking morning.”
“And I called by your hotel as well later that morning, but then you were out, and I had business to conduct. As it is, I have to fly out early tomorrow, so this is quite an inconvenience to me. However, I am resolved to this goal and wasn’t about to forego my mission because of this late hour, hence the reason I’m talking with you right now. I’m hoping it also gives you an understanding of how earnest I am about this.”
“It still sounds like bullshit to me,” Brendan smirked. “But it’s been a fucking good time in Paris at your expense, so I’m not about to ruin that for myself. I’ll listen.”
“Thank you.”
At the end of a long walk, Brendan got the keys out and approached a blue Peugeot.
“I’m glad you spared no expense with your rental, Mr. North. It’s a lovely car.”
“It does the job.” He opened the passenger door. “Get in.”
Mary waited until Brendan was in and was surprised to see him start the car. “Where are we going?”
“Precaution,” he replied, taking off. “I’ve learnt to take you seriously, and I find it a bit difficult to believe that the head of the spooks is out here without some fucking watchdog.”
Mary nodded. “I assure you I’m not, but I applaud you on your caution. We’re coming into an age where no-one is really safe from prying eyes. Speaking of which, I take it you’ve followed my career.”
“You fucking bet I have.” He smiled. “Even taken a few OIA’s out on you, to get a closer look.”
“And what particular official information were you after?”
“Anything, but I found a few choice pieces.” He glanced at her. “Like this software development company Stream Industries, right here in Paris, which you seem to have a lot of dealings with. Want to enlighten me on that?”
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