by Roddy Wix
Katya didn’t enjoy lying, though her life and occupation obliged her to do so as a matter of survival. She and Frank both prized their personal integrity in a way that seemed contrary to their actions. Hypocrisy? Katya hadn’t reconciled that yet nor was she certain where she stood with Anya Kovich, though she knew Anya’s safety would depend on another deception.
The younger woman descended the main staircase after an uninterrupted night’s sleep, her first since she left the Principe di Savoia.
Getting a good look at Elisabeth’s home impressed her. The Lion’s Hill was one of the most admired private homes on Bermuda and had been in her late husband’s family for four generations, eventually to be passed on to a fifth. The childless Elisabeth had only a life estate after which the historic house would go to whichever niece or cousin of the late Earl’s remained alive.
“Your home is beautiful,” Anya said walking slowly into the bright and colorful sunroom. Its broad view of the sparkling ocean boosted her spirits.
“Thank you. My husband and I took great pleasure in our visits here.” She motioned for her guest to have a seat. “Would you like some tea?”
“Please.” Anya sat in a wing back chair covered with a bold green and white floral slipcover. She relaxed a little as Elisabeth handed her a cup and wondered at the delight of living peacefully in such a house.
“Thank you.”
Above the fireplace hung a portrait of a handsome middle-aged man resplendent in what appeared to be a naval uniform with the insignia of high rank.
“Is that your husband?”
“No, his father, but the resemblance is striking. The Admiral died here not so many years ago. He’d lived a long and healthy life.” And I aspire to do the same.
“He was a very handsome man.”
“Yes, he was."
Lady Hartwell may have continued with her musings but for the arrival of an elegant, elderly black man dressed in a khaki suit, crisp white shirt, and blue and green striped tie, the Hartwell colors. Two huge dogs followed him. Black Russian Terriers.
“Good morning, Lady Hartwell. I am happy you had a safe journey.” His Oxbridge accent sounded decidedly upper crust and very British.
Somewhat to Anya’s surprise her hostess rose and clasped the man in a warm embrace after which she greeted each of the big dogs and hugged their shaggy heads.
“I'm pleased to be back.” The elegant woman turned to her guest and introduced the man as “Edward Pendleton.” Then she pointed to the Black Russian Terriers and said, “And these are the loves of my life, Sasha and Tatiana.” The dogs stretched out on the floor indifferently.
“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr. Kovich.” The man gave a courtly bow and regarded her with an irresistible smile.
“Anya, Edward is the manager of The Lion’s Hill, a post he's held for nearly forty years and three generations of Hartwells, and he is the one responsible for preserving and caring for this wonderful house. There is much history here.” Lady Hartwell had genuine affection in her voice.
“What I have seen so far is beautiful Mr. Pendleton. I was just thinking how delightful it might be to live in a place like this.”
“I would be privileged to give you a tour of the house and gardens later,” he said showing Anya another beautiful smile. He turned to Lady Hartwell and asked, “Meanwhile, may I arrange for breakfast to be served on the terrace for you and your guests?”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
“Yes, ma’am. Your other guest, Mr. Bowman, has landed on the island and will be arriving here soon."
“Good. Thank you, Edward. You always know more of what goes on around here than I do.”
The man gave her a knowing, almost intimate smile and a slight bow of his head as he departed the room.
“Who is Mr. Bowman?” Anya had a look of consternation on her face.
"If you remember, I told you my mission was to get you out of France and on to the United States in the event something happened to Jean-Robert.” Elisabeth toyed with her large emerald.
Anya nodded affirmatively but behind her intelligent eyes there was wariness.
“Mr. Bowman is here to help with the last part of that mission.”
“Is he with the government?”
Elisabeth laughed and said, “No, Anya. Gabe Bowman...”
“Gabe Bowman, the founder of Dynamic Integrity?”
“Yes, the same. Do you know him?”
“Of him. He and his firm have developed some of the best firewalls and security systems in the world. I’m sure what I know is only the tip of an iceberg. I spent a lot of time during the past few years looking for ways to defeat his work.” She smiled a little, but was more than curious as to what role he played in her situation.
“Good, I’m happy to hear you are acquainted with Gabe’s professional background. I will allow him to give you the specific details of his proposal.”
“Proposal?”
“Of course, Anya. We helped you to this point because you wanted to get away from Serge Malroff. A wise decision, I might add. Unfortunately, certain complications brought you here, but this is not a gulag. You are free and you have the right to make your own decisions. Neither Gabe nor I are in a position to order you to do anything.” Being realistic, her universe of options was rather small, but why mention the obvious?
“I'm anxious to hear Mr. Bowman's proposal. I have no desire to return to Europe soon nor do I ever want to see Serge again.”
“That's very wise. I know only too well how much so. Now would you like to take a walk outdoors?”
“Yes, very much.”
The women exited the sunroom through large French doors opening onto a broad sunny terrace with a breathtaking view of the ocean. Because of its location on a high promontory the vista spanned more than two hundred degrees. In the center, under a big blue and white striped umbrella stood a long glass topped table set beautifully with a bowl of fresh colorful flowers. The place looked like a movie set as had the terrace at the chateau. Anya shuddered and tried to put the murder scene out of her mind.
“Are you alright, Anya?”
“Yes, fine. I had a slight flashback to the chateau.”
“I understand. Let’s sit and have a bloody mary while we wait for Gabe.”
“Perfect.”
Sasha and Tatiana trotted outside, followed by Edward Pendleton carrying a silver tray with glasses, ice and the ingredients for what turned out to be delicious bloody marys.
“Edward, you’re a mind reader.”
“No ma’am. Merely a life-long observer of behavior patterns.”
Elisabeth smiled as the man handed drinks to her and to Anya.
They were toasting one another when a balding, pleasant looking man of fifty was ushered onto the terrace by a member of Lady Hartwell’s staff that Anya had yet to meet. But, based on his appearance, she wanted to. About her own age, dark haired and handsome, the man appeared to be Hispanic.
“Lady Hartwell, your guest, Mr. Bowman.” He had a trace of an accent in his voice and Anya, gifted with languages, guessed he spoke Castilian Spanish as his native language.
“Gracias, Jorge.” The young man smiled and left with a very slight bow and a twinkle in his eye.
“Lady Hartwell, it’s wonderful to see you again.” Gabe stepped forward and extended his hand which Elisabeth Hartwell shook assertively.
“And you as well, Gabe. Please, I must insist that you call me Elisabeth."
“Of course, Elisabeth.” He turned and extended his hand to Anya.
“Dr. Kovich, I am Gabe Bowman and I'm very happy to meet you.”
“Not as pleased as I am to meet you, Mr. Bowman.”
“Gabe, please call me Gabe.” He took a chair next to Elisabeth and tucked immediately into a Bloody Mary that Edward handed him, but not before making a polite toast.
“To friendships, new and old.”
Over the next half ho
ur he laid out his proposal while Anya pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. His generous proposal included a new home, a job and a new life in California. Also, at least temporarily, a new identity to keep her safe until Serge Malroff posed no further threat. Gabe seemed to think dealing with Serge would not be an issue, but Anya remained skeptical and with good reason. On the other hand, what choice did she have?
Elisabeth listened and watched with relief at Anya's willingness to buy into Gabe’s proposal. It was an honest one and would bring an end to the deception they had played on her to get her out of France.
“I will agree to your proposal, Gabe. When do we leave for California?”
Gabe reached out and shook her hand.
“I am delighted, Anya, but before we move ahead with your relocation to California I have something I need you to work on remotely. The matter is of extreme urgency.”
Anya looked confused.
“I'm asking for your evaluation of a code I brought with me. I need you to design countermeasures that defend against this program.” He added, “This is not a test. You have a job with us regardless, but I believe you are best suited to this task and it is very important.”
“Then of course I will do as you ask."
“Excellent.” Gabe handed her a thumb drive and the soft leather satchel he was carrying. She was thrilled to find a new computer inside.
“I'll begin work immediately, Dr. Bowman.”
"Please. Call me Gabe, and by the way, I'm a dropout, not a 'Doctor'".
Anya was still smiling when Gabe rose from the table and excused himself to speak with Lady Hartwell. Upon her return Elisabeth was surprised to see Anya, obviously a dog lover, making fast friends with Sasha and Tatiana. An excellent quality, she thought, especially around her dogs. Though docile in appearance, they were trained to kill on command and would do so without reservation.
Gabe returned to the terrace, but just long enough to apologize for having to make an abrupt departure. He was headed to Virginia for a meeting though he did not disclose that to Anya.
“I think it will be easier for you to work here without distractions. While you are working on that I will make final arrangements for your travel to California.”
Anya smiled, but felt overwhelmed and in need of reassurance.
“Anya, I’m delighted to have you working with us. I know you'll love Northern California. Our team at Dynamic Integrity is first rate. You'll enjoy the challenge of working with them as well.”
Anya gave the pleasant man a more robust hug than either one of them expected and Gabe reciprocated with a chaste kiss on the cheek.
In less than an hour his G-5 headed westward, piloted by Captain Seth Murdoch.
39.