Wreckoning

by Lee Harding

  Her zeal flowed from every pore. To Michael it was a powerful aphrodisiac.

  “Okay, you change the flights and I’ll call CTU. We need to find out who was with Cameron Faith in prison and arrest him before it’s too late.”

  Chapter 25

  27th November 04:30

  The plane landed in Galeao International Airport in Rio de Janeiro at 04:30 on a wet, humid morning. Alana used a combination of pleading, coercing, and dogged determination to have their flights to England transferred to Brazil. In a stroke of luck the flight did not leave on schedule due to an air conditioning fault. The delay of four hours, then the journey of six hours, minus the time difference, gave the pair a worryingly short window before the third strike.

  As they dismounted, Michael switched on his mobile phone to be greeted by a text message from ViVo. It was in Portuguese but he assumed that was the meaning. Beyond the control tower he could see the faint shape of Christ the Redeemer high on the hills. The glare from the spotlights made it look like the Messiah was descending from the clouds to herald their arrival.

  “Charlie, can you hear me?”

  “Mike, you’re breaking up.”

  “We’ve arrived in Rio. I need an update,” he yelled ignoring the annoyed looks from the other passengers.

  “Because the databases are down I can’t access the records. The Governor’s checking the hard copies but it’ll take time.”

  “We’re out of time, Charlie. I don’t know who’ll meet us here but I want to be prepared.”

  “Did you alert airport security?”

  “Whoever’s behind this is too smart to get captured here and I can’t risk them escaping. No, I’m all alone on this one.”

  “At least you have the midget,” Charlie said and laughed.

  “Alana is more than capable of handling herself and probably me if it came to it,” Michael snapped.

  “Sorry, Mike. I was only joking.”

  “Well stop joking and get back to work. You should be able to track my movements using this phone.”

  “I can see you now,” Charlie said. “Good luck and be careful.”

  Alana was waiting by Arrivals with their passports in hand. “You’ll be needing this,” she said.

  “Thanks. We mustn’t get separated but if we do we’ll rendezvous at the main reception.”

  “How do you think this will happen? The anonymous emailer meeting us, I mean?”

  “I don’t know but we’ll carry on like normal tourists and see if someone approaches.”

  Michael had removed his suit and donned an orange t-shirt and a pair of khaki trousers. Unfortunately he had forgotten to pack a change of footwear and was wearing his black leather shoes. Alana was dressed in a loose-fitting blouse sketched with a pattern of a hunting tiger. The clammy humidity fought against the air conditioning as they fanned themselves cool.

  They were herded through Customs stating they were in the country for pleasure not business, then waited for their luggage to arrive. The long walk to the terminal exit did nothing to allay their fears. A set of frosted panelled doors separated as they approached. They were greeted by a few limo drivers and faithful family members who had braved the early hour. Michael scanned the area for someone suspicious. He caught a glimpse of a man who ducked behind a pillar.

  “Alana, over there to your left. Did you see him?”

  Alana had not. Something else had caught her attention. A lady in her mid-forties wearing a fitted suit and peaked cap was holding a sign. It was a white sheet of card with a familiar name written in English.

  “Faith Family.”

  Alana walked away. It took a second before Michael knew she was gone and sped up to catch her.

  “I’m Alana White, formerly Alana Faith.”

  The lady smiled revealing a set of perfectly capped teeth. Her skin was golden, her figure lithe, and Alana assumed her to be a native.

  “Good morning Senhorita Alana. You must be Senhor Grant?”

  Her accent was thick yet comprehensible. She made no attempt to shake hands.

  “Are you the person sending me the emails?” Alana said.

  Ignoring her, the lady replied, “Please follow me.”

  She turned to set off leaving Alana and Michael no choice but to follow. As they reached the exit she stopped and said, “Remain here. I will get the car.”

  Alana set her suitcase upright to sit on it. Michael kept his at an angle ready to move when required. Soon a brilliant white stretched limousine pulled up and the lady stepped out. She opened the boot then the passenger door.

  “Please get inside. I will attend to your luggage.”

  Alana left her suitcase without hesitation and got into the limo. Michael wasn’t so quick and looked about him before handing over his things. Inside the air was cool and refreshing. Two cream-coloured seats ran either side of the car’s elongated frame and at the rear a mini-bar offered some alcoholic refreshments. Alana had already poured herself a glass of bourbon.

  “Alana. What are you doing?”

  “I need something to steady my nerves,” she said and downed the lot.

  “What if it’s poisoned?”

  “Michael, if she wanted to kill us there are much easier ways than spiking our drinks.”

  The bumps and slam were followed by the front door opening. They watched her through the dividing glass as she got in.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  Either the divider was sound-proofed or she just ignored the question. They soon swung out of the arrival bay and drove until halted by a security guard at the airport’s entrance. Michael watched as she wound down the window and jabbered something before the man nodded and waved them on. A highway met them ahead but the car came to a sudden stop by the side of the road. The lady pressed a button on the dashboard to lower the divider screen a few inches then twisted to face them.

  “Please give me your telephones and computers.”

  Instinctively Michael held his bag to his chest. Alana however removed her mobile and crouched forwards to slip it between the gap.

  “Michael, we don’t have a choice, remember?”

  With an expression of consternation he surrendered his phone and unzipped his laptop.

  “Your tablet too, Senhor.”

  Hiding his surprise, Michael dipped into his bag to retrieve the small screen, giving all three devices to her. The divider rose and they watched her remove the batteries of the gadgets.

  There goes my backup plan, Michael thought as the driver re-joined the motorway. He checked his watch which was adjusted to local time. It had turned 04:51.

  The limo sped along bypassing a host of other vehicles. Like in most major cities Rio de Janeiro ran twenty-four hours a day. Although nearing winter its proximity to the equator meant the seasons had little bearing on the temperature or daylight hours. The dawn exploded from the rim of the horizon to bathe the Latin American countryside. Alana peered out through the darkened windows as the vast mountains swooped and arched beside them. Endless forests housing untold species spread across the landscape like a living green carpet.

  The limo veered off the narrowing road and up a steep incline into the trees. The engine struggled to heave the heavy vehicle but soon the path levelled out. They entered a clearing to be confronted by a mansion hidden in the woods. Alana stared up as the white curved walls grew larger as they approached. It was reminiscent of a gladiatorial coliseum. A patrolling guard with a German Shepherd leashed to his waist stood beside two men bearing automatic weapons. Alana noticed security cameras positioned at strategic points along the driveway and wondered how many remained hidden amongst the trees.

  Coming to a soft stop, Alana and Michael waited for the driver to open their door. Alana felt the sickly heat turn to sweat as she stepped out and her blouse clung damp to her chest.

  “Please follow me.”

  The driver walked up the steps to the front door. Michael followed first then Alana drew close to his side as t
hey went indoors together.

  Inside was just as unusual as the exterior. Instead of seeing a hallway or room, a winding corridor rose to their left and sloped down to the right. Their guide had gone left so they followed. It was like travelling up a lighthouse except there were no stairs; just a continuous white wall. Round and round they went, passing a series of doors cut into the limestone until they arrived at an even plain. A solid door blocked their way.

  The driver knocked twice then turned the handle. “Come this way,” she said.

  They entered a room the size of an Olympic swimming pool. It was divided into different sections. A library of a thousand tomes sat to her right; a cinema screen with reclining chairs to her left; beyond that was a bare area with a purple spot in the centre. A voice called from up ahead. It was in Portuguese but there was something familiar about the accent.

  They left the room to see a spherical window curved like a narrow band around the rear of the house. The view was staggering. The rain forests of Rio rose in a beautiful balance, the tree tops nudging each other to form a perfect symmetry. Like looking at a postcard. Alana envied the owner who could view such beauty on a daily basis.

  “Thank you, Alejandra.”

  The disembodied voice spoke in English. The driver bowed then left.

  “Please, sit down.”

  Michael and Alana walked to a bowed settee set opposite the window. The disembodied voice grew closer.

  “I’m sure you’re thirsty after travelling all day. The flight from San Francisco must have been draining.”

  Alana’s hands were trembling and at first she didn’t understand why. It was only when her brain caught up did she realize why the voice was so familiar. Out of her peripheral vision a man not much taller than herself walked into view. His head was shaved and a thin film of grey hair covered his mouth and pointed chin. He was stocky and wore a simple white t-shirt and a pair of shorts. His eyes were fixed on hers and he was trying hard to keep his emotions in check.

  “Dad?”

  “Hello, Alana.”

  Cameron Faith rushed to his daughter as she swooned. Michael was quicker and caught her before her head hit the ground.

  “Keep her cool,” Cameron said. “I’ll get some water.”

  Michael concentrated on fanning Alana’s face with a magazine. He couldn’t digest that Cameron Faith was alive and only thought of Alana. Her eyes were closed and her skin was the colour of whitewash.

  Cameron returned with a bottle of cold water. He motioned to Michael to tilt her head and raised it to her lips.

  “Sip some of this, love. Take nice deep breaths. Everything will be fine.”

  He made no attempt to touch her but remained kneeling by her side until her eyes began to flutter then opened fully.

  When Alana regained consciousness the first face she saw was Michael’s. She smiled as his features swam into focus. Looking to the right she saw another familiar face. Then the realisation that it was her dead father came crashing through her skull

  Cameron offered his hand but she swatted it away. Strength sprang from nowhere and she managed to sit up on her own.

  “Don’t you dare touch me. I thought you were dead.”

  Cameron raised himself onto the sofa and put his hands onto his knees.

  “I’m sorry, Alana. This never should have been but I had no choice.”

  “No choice? You had no choice but to fake your own death and run away to another country?”

  A tiny piece of her hoped that it wasn’t true, that perhaps a passing boat had found him and pulled him from the water then travelled across the Atlantic.

  “I had to die so I could have a chance to live. But I knew I would have to leave you and Paula behind and it broke my heart yet I had no choice.”

  Alana felt too livid to cry but it did not prevent the tears from cascading. Everything was so surreal, so inconceivable, but there her father sat, talking and breathing like a normal, living human being.

  “Why?” she said.

  “Why had I no choice?”

  Cameron could not bear to see his daughter cry. He turned to look out of the window.

  “When I was arrested I felt a burden lift from my shoulders. You see I wanted to be punished for what I had done. Your aunts did not deserve the things I put them through and I was disgusted and ashamed at myself for committing those heinous crimes. I wanted the guilt to end and knew prison was the only place that could happen.

  “There is no excuse for what I did but I eventually understood the reasons why. A wonderful lady called Sheena Edison visited me while I was in jail. She showed me that because of my poor self-esteem, the stress of running a business, and my inability to say no, led me down some disturbing paths. Plus your mother and my wife at the time could never show love in the way she should have. I’m not blaming her for that for I know she had a difficult childhood but I never felt she really loved me. So I self-destructed. Your aunts were teenagers at the time and looked remarkably similar to her. I suppose I substituted her for them to try and get her love. That sounds trite but if you don’t have the courage to die then all rules are flung into the air.

  “I loved your mother and still do. I knew she had a love for me but couldn’t express it. Then you were born. It was as if someone flicked on the light in my dark world. I always wanted to be a father. We were a family at last and I had a reason to live. But under the surface I was tormented by the guilt of what I had done but felt powerless to do anything about. You were my most precious gift and I had to protect you. That included the harm that would come as a result of the police being involved. So I remained silent.

  “The battle in my heart raged on and made me take steps to be caught. Those steps were ugly and caused further harm which I regret. Your mother became pregnant with Paula prior to me being arrested. The morning I waved goodbye would be the last time I’d see my family.

  “I foolishly thought I could confront my demons in prison. After all, it’s touted to be a place of rehabilitation. Nothing could be further from the truth. If I hadn’t sought help none would have been given. It infuriated me.

  “Your mother spoke to me on the phone at the start but then learned of what I had done. She cut off all ties. That included your grandparents. She refused photographs and news and certainly no contact. Have you any idea how that destroyed me? It was as if I had died but my spirit still lived. Yet no one could recognize me as a living soul. All I wanted was some mercy. But I was denied.

  “At court I was branded as evil without being given the opportunity to have a voice. I wished no harm on anyone and I believed I wasn’t evil, only a fallible human who needed help. The judge ignored my plea for compassion and gave me a sentence that went beyond what was called for, double what I had been told. I soon learned that the so-called Justice System is devoid of mercy and justice is seldom granted. My details were splashed over the papers endangering not only my life but those I loved and cared for. What right did they have to do that? Was it in the public’s interest? Gossipers and priers the lot of them.

  “When I was released the nightmare didn’t stop. The media hounded me from hostel to hostel. Deborah had divorced me while I was inside and our home had been sold. I couldn’t get a job, was barred from using a computer, and had no prospects to live for. But of course I had; my two daughters. I dreamed of when I would finally meet you and was terrified you might hate me. I knew that your mother hadn’t revealed the truth so I longed for you, some day, to learn it for yourself. I gave my solicitor my journals and stories that gave enough clues for you to follow. I designed a silver necklace that spelled out the words D-A-D-D-Y L-O-V-E-S A-L-A-N-A. But it also contained a secret as to who I really was; just a human who had failed and wanted a chance to live again.

  “Yet I was denied. The authorities wanted me dead so I finally relented. I learned that my former business partner had stolen the software I’d written to become a billionaire. I wasn’t jealous. I was sorry that my actions ruined his life
. But the fact was his success was due to my ingenuity.

  “I secretly purchased a computer and downloaded all my original software tools. I had served my sentence and believed the ban on me was unjust. I contacted some friends online to help me hack into Hydra Security and take what was rightfully mine. Then I set up a plausible way to fake my own death. I had started to fish when I was released. It was relaxing and I enjoyed the peace and solitude, the antithesis of prison. I hired a boat in my own name but also purchased one using a fake identity and hired a crew to pick me up off the coast of Devon. We sailed to Brazil and here I am today.”

  Alana sat with her head in her hands as her father recounted his story. Some of it made sense but overall it was sheer madness. Michael sat in stunned silence. He knew some of the tale but assigned guilt to the wrong man.

  “So you’re the leader of Wreckoning?”

  “I am, Inspector Grant. I couldn’t let a corrupt system destroy any more lives. Innocent or guilty, it doesn’t matter to them. Reform was required and at long last I had the means and the ability to implement it.”

  “You mean the $1 billion?”

  “That money enabled me to build an army. We destroyed the press, the judiciary, the police, all of them, but we gave them a chance to change. Something I was never given.”

  “But the British public? Why destroy them?”

  “Destroy them? I want to liberate them. Too long have they been blinded by greed and hypocrisy. The third strike will free them from those bonds.”

  “Hypocrisy? The only hypocrite is you.”

  Alana stood up on shaky legs. She was no more than a foot away from her father with her finger pointed at his face.

  “You speak of justice and mercy but what gives you the right to judge anyone? You might have been badly treated but you deserved it. You believe you deserve a life but what of my aunts? What lives have they because of you?”

  Cameron shuffled on his seat. It was clear nobody had spoken to him like that in years.