by David Caris
‘She’s a Mauritian hacker, real name Lise Berenger. Kovac was using her to keep a low profile. He only knows her as Dauguet, though.’
Megan said nothing, eyeing him distrustfully.
‘She’s been watching us for a long time, worming her way into our systems. But I didn’t know that until it was too late. I knew she harbored a deep-seated grudge against Curzon but to begin with, I thought her target was Kovac.’
‘Bibi Dauguet?’
‘I imagine she chose it because yes, it sounds inoffensive.’ Luther struggled to swallow again, and finally managed to get some air. ‘I had McConville rig the auction so that Dauguet won. She won Kovac’s file, or part of it. A short section which detailed his killing of a woman in Cuenca, a woman called Rose.’ He took another deep breath, and then one more for good measure. He wanted to get all this out in one go. ‘Rose was Dauguet’s sister, Francoise Berenger. But Dauguet didn’t use the information like I expected. She didn’t believe it was Kovac who decided Rose’s fate. She believed – believes – I ordered it.’
Megan thought for a moment. Then she shocked Luther with one final leap. ‘So if this hacker woman, Dauguet, is coming for us, and you still fear Kovac…’
He squirmed. ‘Megan, Dauguet wants to see us burn. And unless we –’
‘You hired the gangbangers, didn’t you? When Dauguet fell through, you improvised.’ Megan stood and gathered up her things.
‘Megan, wait.’
‘They used a kid, Dad.’
‘I never intended for that. But if Dauguet and Kovac align, I can’t protect you.’
‘Do you even know what Kovac’s been doing for you? You’ve lost your mind.’
‘Megan, please. Hear me out.’
‘No. I tried to get my head around all this, I really did. But it’s wrong. Right back to recruiting Kovac.’
Luther went to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say anymore, what he could say.
‘It’s quicksand, Dad. Can’t you see that? And we’re both going to end up in jail.’ She crossed to the stairs and started climbing, and a moment later she was gone.
Chapter 56
Megan made her way out onto the street and hailed a cab. Her world was crumbling, and she saw clearly now that Kovac was right. There was no neat line that could be drawn in the sand. Killing was a form of insanity, and her father – for all his talk of God committees – was utterly lost to it.
She took out her phone, planning to contact Kovac, but immediately saw the lunacy in that. Great idea, Megan, call a serial killer for help…
But who else was there?
Not her brother.
Nor even Bishop.
She scrolled through her messages, feeling as though her entire world was polluted, until she hit on the invite from Nicholas.
Nicholas Shearing.
In all this, she had almost forgotten Nicholas existed. She hadn’t thought about him since recording the Zoom call and catching him in the lie.
Had she judged Nicholas too harshly?
Yes. She had seen him through the lens her father, Kovac and Bishop encouraged.
She got into the cab, wondering if Nicholas couldn’t act as a refuge now.
‘Where to?’ the driver asked.
She held up one finger, indicating for him to wait, and texted Nicholas. He had asked to meet up a few times since everything blew up and he was quick to reply.
“My place?” he asked.
No. She wanted neutral ground. And privacy.
She typed: “Hotel?”
There was a long delay and she wondered if she had scared him off by being so forward.
But then he sent the name of a hotel and an address.
Megan flipped her phone around and showed the name to the cab driver. ‘Do you know where this is?’
He squinted at the screen, then nodded.
The drive took longer than Megan expected. Close on twenty minutes, by which time the afternoon light was fading. When they did finally arrive, Megan stepped out of the cab onto wobbly legs, and a young man in a ridiculous suit with tails guided her inside.
He asked if she had any luggage. She shook her head.
Luggage, no.
Baggage on the other hand…
She strode forward, forgetting to check her surroundings, and never saw the SUV that parked just shy of the hotel.
Chapter 57
Megan crossed the opulent lobby and made her way straight to the front desk. She felt like an escort, asking them to call up to Nicholas’ room for her, and it was clear they didn’t recognize her. But their expressions quickly changed when they asked her for ID. No doubt they had been watching the news.
Megan took the elevator to the seventh level and made her way down a quiet hallway to room 713. She knocked on the door, only to have second thoughts. What in God’s name was she doing here?
If she moved fast, she could get out of this hallway before he opened the door.
She turned and started back towards the elevator, but the door handle clicked.
‘Megan?’
Shit.
She turned and forced a smile. ‘Nicholas, hi.’
He was an attractive man, no getting around that. He was absurdly fit for his age, chiseled, a little mysterious, like something off the front cover of a romance book. She started back towards him.
Lunacy, Megan.
But where else was there right now…? She had lied to her father about having girlfriends. She was a workaholic. She was only known at the cafe because she regularly met a client there.
Nicholas was looking at her like he expected sex.
Shit, shit, shit.
She maintained the forced smile, sucking in a deep lungful of air through clenched teeth as she closed the distance between them in the hallway.
He gave her a hug in greeting, not casual, but slow and sensual, then opened the door a little wider. Releasing her, he gestured for her to enter.
She did.
For all the opulence in the lobby, it was a perfectly ordinary hotel room. One large bed, a table, a bathroom. The window looked directly on to a window in a neighboring building, and Megan figured if she was going through with this they’d definitely need to close the drapes.
Part of her did want to go through with this: wanted the complete disconnect from reality that came with passionate lovemaking. To get lost in sheets, lost in one another. She needed a release, a reward, a… what? What the hell was she chasing here?
He was talking about himself, about his day. A session in the gym in the morning, some work, some more work, then another session in the gym.
Which explained the abs, she realized. He was lucky he was fit and good in bed because his idea of conversation left a hell of a lot to be desired.
She decided to cut to the chase, tired of thinking, tired of freaking out. She was here. With a man who wanted her. It was all out of character, sure, but she was the one who had suggested a hotel room… Maybe it was what she needed. Maybe it could actually help. ‘Should we maybe close the…?’ She pointed to the drapes coyly.
He grinned at this, and immediately took off his jacket. He was in a suit, but he didn’t look comfortable in it. Or more to the point, comfortable getting out of it. It wasn’t instinctual for him to slip out of a suit jacket, as if maybe he was wearing it for her benefit.
He threw his wallet and keys onto a table and closed the drapes. Then he started towards her.
He embraced her, starting to undress her. She wasn’t feeling it. She was waiting for the magnetism that made this otherwise absurd dance sublime, but where was it? Holding out on her.
His advance felt forced, even clumsy.
She was better than this. She wasn’t solving anything, she was hiding, and if she felt like this about things now, she sure as heck wasn’t going to feel good about them afterward.
She needed to put a stop to it.
She put a hand to his chest, but he misunderstood the gesture. His hand went straight
to her hip, slowly moving around, dropping… She put her head to the side of his arm, intending to slide free of him, his grip, but he kept her locked in position. She felt a first stab of panic. Her eyes jumped around the room, finally coming to rest on his keys. If it came down to it, could she use the keys?
Yes.
Bishop had taught her how to punch with keys. But things weren’t at that point.
Yet.
‘Wait,’ she said.
He didn’t step back. In fact, he started groping her.
She started blinking fast. There was something about the keys which had grabbed her attention, something beyond their potential as a weapon. But what? She looked more closely, tuning out his aggressive advances, and immediately saw what it was. The keys were bunched on a metal key ring with a tag, and the tag had a single word on it – “DELPHI”.
She stared at it, struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. But there was no mistaking the lettering. It was there in capitals, the product of some design brief or other that wanted a word as a corporate logo.
What were the odds?
She resisted the urge to shove Nicholas away.
He was nuzzling in now, kissing her neck, still groping. Her mind raced. If he was carrying a tag with DELPHI on it, he was involved in all of this. But how?
She tried to make sense of it, but soon realized she wasn’t going to solve this particular riddle before Nicholas sexually assaulted her.
She didn’t have all of the pieces. She didn’t have much more than a key ring. But she knew she was in danger. Which made the next decision easy.
She took a half step back, gripping Nicholas’ belt with both hands as if planning to undo it. She gave him her best come-fuck-me smile and, whispering something about relieving pressure, swiveled and drove one knee hard up into to his erection.
Chapter 58
Luther realized it was time to drive away. He had no right to stalk his daughter like this, casting a shadow over her private life. He knew very little about the man she had texted because he chose to know very little, and despite everything that was taking place he needed to maintain that line or he would lose Megan forever.
If he hadn’t already…
‘Let’s go,’ he said to his driver, before grabbing his nebulizer and upping his meds.
Luther was down to one bodyguard, having instructed the other two to deal with his paparazzi from the cafe. Nothing violent. More like the approach authorities took with dangerous but protected animals. The bodyguards would relocate the pair. They would drive them out into the middle of nowhere, into dense forest most likely, and strip them to their underwear for execution. Then, when they were both sobbing and begging, his men would abruptly leave, taking everything with them. This wasn’t legal, nor quick, nor easy, but it was effective. In Luther’s experience, people who endured this treatment never went to the authorities, and never messed with Curzon again.
He considered leaving his one remaining bodyguard at this hotel now, but that was pointless. Megan would see him on her way out, and that would defeat the purpose of Luther giving her space.
The SUV pulled out, but at the last moment Luther changed his mind. ‘Wait,’ he said, suddenly realizing the trap he would create for himself.
If he left now, he couldn’t continue with his old plan. To clean up – truly, permanently clean up – he needed to either kill or capture his own daughter. And since killing Megan was out of the question, that left capture.
Luther didn’t like it, but it was what it was. He couldn’t go after Kovac while Megan was free to warn him of the threat. Luther would find himself embroiled in a clumsy game of cat and mouse with Kovac – one which would greatly benefit Dauguet.
And even if he changed his mind right now, even if he abandoned his plan to clean up, it was still too risky to drive away. Abandoning the plan didn’t erase the fact it had – even for an instant in time – existed. So long as Megan was working against him, Luther was exposed. Kovac could still get the confirmation he was seeking.
The driver had stopped again and was staring at him in the rearview, awaiting further instruction.
‘Goddamn it, Megan’ Luther grumbled, getting out and walking straight towards the hotel.
Chapter 59
Luther was at the front desk, arguing with staff about privacy, when he saw Megan emerge from the elevator. She looked dazed, scared even.
He immediately quit arguing and went straight to her. She hugged him, and he felt the first shudder of tears. ‘What is it?’ he asked, guiding her back into the elevator and ordering the doors shut. ‘What happened? Megan, talk to me. Did someone hurt you? So help me God, if anyone –’
‘He’s upstairs, in the room.’
‘Who is? What room?’
She pressed the button for level seven. ‘Room 713. I think I killed him.’
Hearing this, Luther resolved to hold off on further questions. He texted his bodyguard, giving him the room number, but didn’t press send. His bodyguards saw a lot, did a lot, but that didn’t extend to murder. He needed to see what Megan had done first.
The doors opened at level seven and Megan led him along a quiet hallway. She walked with newfound speed. She had wiped at her eyes in the elevator and pulled her breathing back under control, and she seemed to have regained some composure. She used a card to unlock the door.
‘This room’s in your name?’ Luther asked.
‘No. I took the card from him before I left. His name.’
The door clicked and she gently hip and shouldered it, leading Luther in.
‘In there,’ she said, pointing to the bathroom.
Luther eased the bathroom door open. ‘Jesus.’
There was a man on the tiles, lying in a pool of his own blood. He had a gash somewhere on the back of his head, but he was conscious. Groggy, but definitely conscious.
Luther sent the text to his bodyguard. ‘You didn’t kill him,’ he said. ‘What happened here? Did he try to assault you?’
Megan was standing at the bathroom door, watching as Luther tried to pull the man upright. Luther checked the man’s pulse. ‘He’ll be fine. He’ll be concussed, but he’ll be fine. What happened here, Megan?’
‘I hit him.’
‘I can see that, with what? Who is he?’ Luther gripped the man’s chin and studied his face. He looked familiar, but Luther couldn’t place him. ‘Get me his wallet. Does he have a wallet? Get me his ID.’
‘His name is Nicholas Shearing. I hit him with an iron.’
‘Get me his ID.’
Megan disappeared for a moment, returning with a wallet. She had it open and was flicking through cards. She frowned.
‘What?’ Luther asked.
‘The ID, it’s not for… It says he’s someone else. Caleb Van Heythuysen.’
The name solved it for Luther. He nodded.
‘He had “DELPHI” on his keys,’ Megan said.
‘You know about DELPHI?’
‘Not really. What is it?’
‘We bought it from him. The version we’re trialing with the French Government now, it was his work.’ Luther saw why he had struggled to recognize Van Heythuysen. The man had been fat and angry when Luther was dealing with him, maladjusted and quick to give into counterproductive rages. He’d been an easy mark, but he’d obviously worked on himself since.
‘What are you doing with him?’ Megan asked, as Luther tried to drag Van Heythuysen out of the bathroom.
Seeing that he was struggling, she helped.
‘I’m going to ask him a few questions is all.’ Luther went for the bloodied iron and plugged it in. ‘Is the door locked? Lock it.’
But Luther didn’t need to use the iron. Just the radiant heat of it against Van Heythuysen’s face, along with the metallic stink of rapidly drying blood, was enough to get Van Heythuysen pleading. ‘Talk,’ Luther snarled. He had Van Heythuysen on the carpet now, one knee on his chest, one hand pinning his neck. Luther’s other hand held the iron aloft
. ‘Talk, and you get to keep your face.’
‘Dad, stop,’ Megan said, returning from the door.
She tried to pull him clear. Luther resisted for as long as he could. But with his labored breathing he was no match for Megan. She dragged him backward and he yelled at her to let him go. ‘Focus on the door, Megan. This man knows what’s going on. You want a change of plan, you want Kovac left alone, let me do what’s necessary here.’
She relented, and Luther struggled to resume the position he had been in a moment ago. He was panting, thoroughly winded now, but also determined. It helped that his opponent was still groggy.
‘I don’t know her name,’ Van Heythuysen slurred. ‘But I think she’s a woman, French. Some kind of accent like that. She disguised her voice with me, digitally. But she hates you and she hates some guy called Kovac. That’s all I know. She’s your enemy, not me.’
‘Okay. Let’s say I believe you, what’s your role?’
‘Selling DELPHI.’
‘Selling it to me? You did that already.’
He shook his head.
‘You don’t own DELPHI,’ Luther said. ‘I do, remember? You lost your mind in negotiations, signed without doing your due diligence.’
‘I don’t need a patent.’
‘The hell you don’t.’ But Luther suddenly understood what Van Heythuysen was driving at. ‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘Who did you sell it to?’
Van Heythuysen laughed, revealing bloodied teeth. ‘Fuck you.’
Luther brought the iron to within three inches of Van Heythuysen’s face, slamming his thumb down on all the buttons at once and sending a cloud of steam hissing straight into his eyes. Van Heythuysen screamed. ‘Next time, I’ll bring it the rest of the way down. Last chance.’
‘The Brotherhood.’
‘The Brotherhood? What kind of –’
‘There’s a group, using that name. That’s who I sold it to. They’re –’
There was a knock at the door; Luther’s bodyguard identified himself. Luther called out for him to stay put and notify him if anyone else showed up in the hallway.
He refocused on Van Heythuysen. ‘They’re what?’