by Zoe Sharp
‘That did not go well, I take it,’ he said at last.
I managed a wry smile that actually hurt to produce. ‘Not as well as it could have done,’ I said mechanically. ‘No.’
Bane was silent for a time, then said, ‘You told him about the baby.’
That brought my head up sharply. ‘How the hell did you know who he was?’
Bane folded his arms across his chest, smooth-shaven head tilted slightly. ‘There’s a chemistry between you that can’t easily be hidden,’ he said darkly. ‘And he did not like me touching you.’
I swallowed. ‘Is that why you did it?’
‘It was…instructive.’ He paused. ‘So you told him, in anger and in haste, and he responded in kind.’
I gave a strangled laugh. ‘Oh yeah, that about sums it up.’
‘And now you are sitting here, wallowing in your isolation.’
There was nothing mocking in his voice, but I shot him a poisonous look anyway. ‘I was faced with an impossible choice. I never wanted to be in that kind of position,’ I said. ‘Christ knows, I was at the back of the queue when maternal instinct was handed out. It would be madness to have kids in this job, and I…need to work.’
‘Of course.’ Bane’s chest rose and fell slowly. ‘Because, otherwise, what would you do with that killer instinct you’re so proud of – is that it?’
I let my own breath hiss out between my teeth. ‘Yes.’
‘When you first came here, I told you the thing that scared you the most was losing control,’ he said. ‘For you, your pregnancy and miscarriage represented the ultimate loss of control. You never planned to conceive,’ he went on, relentless, ‘and then when you had inadvertently done so, the decision of if and when to terminate that pregnancy was also removed from your hands.’
‘You really think I would have had an abortion?’ I demanded. ‘There wasn’t time to make any decisions, one way or another. And I wouldn’t have done anything without…’ My voice trailed away.
‘…talking with Sean,’ Bane finished for me. ‘But Mother Nature beat you to it, and now you feel angry not to have been consulted, and resentful that your own body betrayed you and deemed you somehow unfit for the task. And, most of all, I suspect you even felt relief.’
‘You missed out guilty as hell,’ I said tightly. ‘Guilty for keeping it secret from Sean in the first place. More guilty for keeping quiet after. And yes,’ my chin came up, defiant now, ‘guilty for feeling relieved that I didn’t have to make that choice.’
‘Those are natural reactions, in the circumstances,’ Bane said. ‘Your mistake was to try and exclude Sean from the process. He had every right, as the father of your child, to be involved, to be allowed to come to terms with this in his own way. Instead, you threw it at him.’
‘Badly.’
He nodded, face grave. ‘When we’re hurt, instinct makes us lash out at those closest, trying to drive them away,’ he said. ‘It reinforces our sense of self-hatred. See, you tell yourself – even those who claim to love me, abandon me. See how worthless I am?’
He paused, unfolded himself and reached down to tilt my face upwards, fingers cool and dry under my chin. Those strangely compelling eyes locked onto mine. He smoothed his thumb across the corner of my mouth and I felt it tremble at his touch. ‘It’s a vicious downward spiral, Charlie,’ he said gently. ‘Break out of it, or it will destroy you.’
Too late.
As if I’d spoken out loud, he sighed and released me, almost with reluctance. I let my head drop, staring at the floor.
‘I know Sean. He won’t forgive this.’
‘Only if you will not allow it,’ Bane agreed. ‘If you believe you do not deserve to be forgiven. And where will that lead?’
Sean and I had separated before, after our disastrous time in the army. He had been told I’d tried to sell him out, and events had conspired to reinforce that opinion. We’d been apart for four years before chance brought us together again. Now, I couldn’t contemplate a future without him in it. I would have died for him.
Bombarded by images, aching with fatigue, I shut my eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ I murmured. ‘How did it come to this? How could he…?’
‘A part of you wanted to see the worst of him, and he revealed himself accordingly. But before you condemn him, tell me – what could he possibly have said that wouldn’t make you think less of him, one way or another?’
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Bane nodded. ‘If his feelings for you are strong, his reaction was always going to be a violent one. Maybe not physically, but certainly emotionally. And a part of you craved that.’
It was my turn to be silent. Eventually, I said, ‘There was never going to be a right way to tell him, was there?’
Bane shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘And if he’s a logical man, he’ll come to realise that himself, despite the damage to his pride.’ He rose, self-contained, within himself, and looked down at me. ‘The only question is, how mortally did you maul each other on the way to this epiphany?’
I looked up at him, tired enough to weep. ‘Damn,’ I said quietly. ‘Why couldn’t we have had this conversation before I spoke to Sean?’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Maria did not resurface until the day after Sean and Gardner’s visit. She emerged after lunch into the dusty warmth of the central compound, clinging to Ann’s steadying arm, walking slowly by her side.
From the shady bench under the juniper tree, I watched their halting progress in my direction, almost holding my breath. The bulky ex-Marine, Tyrone Yancy, shadowed the pair, not crowding but always there. Three paces away, Maria faltered to a standstill.
I rose, stuffed my hands into my pockets, waited.
‘Thank you,’ she said at last, her voice husky, like she’d ripped her throat up screaming. She offered a tentative smile. I did the same.
I craved longer with her, to try and explain that she had to fight back, to fight forwards, to find her anger and release it instead of letting it crush her, but her mind had already faded from me. As Ann led her away, Yancy gave me the slightest of nods.
I watched Fourth Day’s inhabitants at their latest self-defence practice, delegated by Yancy to another of the security team. Their concentration seemed more sharply focused than previously, as if this was no longer just a theoretical discipline, but an imminent probability.
The overall reaction towards me was mixed. Some had eased up, but most clearly blamed me. As if I’d brought this down onto Maria. As if Nu hadn’t been a traitor long before I came along.
Time alone had another side effect, though, and that was for me to think about Sean.
I’d lost him once before and had drifted, without direction or focus. It had taken time, after he’d come back into my life, to recognise how right we were for each other. Both of us scarred by experience, we’d healed far more effectively together than either of us would have managed alone.
But in the shock and bewilderment of my unexpected pregnancy and the miscarriage that followed, I’d lost sight of the strength of that union. Of the fact that neither of us stood a hope in hell of finding happiness with anyone else. That, for me, Sean was my balance.
And at that moment, sitting under the ancient juniper tree, I knew with certainty that I would do anything, sacrifice everything, to rescue what I had with Sean. Because the idea of a future without him, of the course my life might follow, was a dark road that must remain untravelled at all costs.
Bane had accused me of wallowing in my isolation. If it wasn’t true then, it certainly was now.
He had been cool towards me. That morning, I’d taken him and Yancy back into the subterranean building where I’d initially been contained. I’d shown Bane the stocks of M16s and M4 assault rifles I’d noted when they’d brought me out of my cell. Bane had surveyed the contents of the opened packing cases with no more than a slight frown on his face. I couldn’t tell what thought currents swirled beneath the surface.
‘And you never knew this lot was here?’ I queried.
He gave a nominal shake of his head. ‘These are storerooms,’ he said, eyes flicking to Yancy. ‘I have little reason to come here unless we have someone who needs confinement, both for their safety and our own.’
The ex-Marine had remained equally impassive, displaying neither guilt nor surprise. He checked over all the boxes for himself, inspecting the weapons as though he was about to make a buy, or he thought I might have planted them.
‘Nu had some kind of deal going,’ he said at last. ‘But I don’t ask, and he don’t tell.’
‘Well, as soon as Gardner gets hold of him, he will tell,’ I said, exasperated by their stoicism. ‘He’s facing at least one attempted murder charge, if not two. If he thinks he has anything to bargain with, he’ll use it. And, right now, the authorities believe you’re the bad guys. Possibly with good reason.’
‘Meaning?’ Bane’s voice was colder than I’d heard it.
I jerked my head. ‘Come with me, and I’ll show you.’
Bane paused, as if weighing up the consequences, then made his decision.
‘After you,’ he said. And as I passed him, he glanced back at Yancy, swept an arm to indicate the room at large. ‘Dispose of all this…equipment, would you?’
‘How?’ Yancy asked.
‘Anywhere it won’t come back to haunt us.’
Yancy looked doubtful. ‘Lot of dough here,’ he said.
Bane silenced him with a look of his own. ‘Break it up. Bury it. Nothing is worth bringing down such trouble onto us.’
We moved above ground again, walked through the main building and across the dining hall, ignoring the stares from those in occupation. I opened the door to the classroom on the far side without knocking, which turned out to be a mistake. Ann was in the middle of chalking up sums onto the blackboard at the far end. She froze in mid equation and I more or less followed suit, mentally cursing for not expecting the room to be occupied. I glanced at the desktops, but the only thing in evidence was wax crayons and sheets of paper.
Twenty small faces turned in the direction of this interruption, their gaze passing over me without seeming to register, but lightening noticeably when they recognised Bane.
‘Randall.’ Ann’s serenity faltered slightly as it transferred to me. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’
Bane’s eyes slipped to mine and issued a silent challenge. I stepped forwards, offered an awkward smile and a muttered, ‘Excuse me,’ to the children sitting at the nearest desk, and lifted the lid.
It was empty. I lifted the lids on either side, but they were empty, too. No annotated newspaper, cigarette pack, no copper wire, no book on how to make improvised munitions of any kind. No real surprises there, then. Nu was hardly going to leave such incriminating items lying around for the children to discover. So, why had they been left there before?
Bane leant over my shoulder – unnecessarily, I thought – and stared at my lack of discovery.
‘Have you lost something, Charlie?’ Ann asked blankly, but it was Bane who answered for me.
‘It would seem not,’ he said, straightening. ‘We’re sorry to have disturbed you.’
But word must have got round and now I found myself sitting under the old tree, pointedly alone.
Well, Fox, you didn’t come here to win a popularity contest…
Idly, I wondered about Nu’s overall game plan. Who was he working for, other than himself, and why had he tried to kill Maria as well as me – unless she was purely collateral damage? Or, alternatively, what reason did he have to try and take out Bane’s daughter, for which I would have been the convenient scapegoat?
The more I pulled at it, the more tangled it became.
Then, at the far side of the compound I saw heads begin to turn towards the dirt road in, and a moment later saw dust rising and heard the sound of vehicles approaching, two of them.
As they neared, I recognised the lead car. It was the old Chevy I’d seen before, the low, sweet growl of its engine belying its elderly bodywork. The other car was the nondescript saloon type favoured by rental agencies.
They pulled up and began to disgorge passengers. Half a dozen people, young and dressed in lightweight clothing as though prepared for an expedition.
I sat watching as the new arrivals were greeted like long-lost relatives, all hugs and kisses, and little squeaks of delight. It wasn’t until the driver of the second car emerged that I realised who they were.
The driver was a tall blond guy with surfer dude good looks. Dexter. I quickly skimmed the others, noted two or three of the people who’d been with him in Aberdeen at Debacle’s annual blockade of Lorna Witney’s company gates. The squat ginger-haired figure of Tony, already pinking in the sun, and the girl who’d complained about my mode of transport. They were obviously not strangers, but what were they doing here?
Maria, meanwhile, had stumbled to a halt, a look of bewilderment on her face. Ann was watching her carefully.
Dexter, in the act of lifting his bag out of the car, suddenly caught sight of her. He let out a shout, dropped the bag and ran across, gathering her up close. I was near enough to hear his words, even though he spoke with his face muffled into her hair.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he said, voice shaking. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you.’
Maria flung her arms around him, hands gripped into fists in the fabric of his shirt, body starting to quiver with wracking emotion. She looked like never letting go.
And, in that moment, things became clear. Like why Dexter had claimed to be the one who saw Liam die in Alaska. Unless I was very much mistaken, this also answered the question of Billy’s missing father. ‘No longer with us,’ I’d been told. It was all a matter of interpretation.
Dexter continued to hold Maria, rocking her gently as if slow-dancing to some melody only they could hear. I told myself it was that, and nothing else, which brought a strangely poignant lump to my throat, and made it difficult to swallow.
The door to the main building opened and Bane stepped out. Dexter saw him approaching and straightened automatically, the way a private soldier reacts to the presence of a general. If the serious expression on Bane’s face was anything to go by, his apprehension was justified.
Bane halted a few metres away and waited until Dexter had disentangled himself, something he achieved not without difficulty. He handed the girl off into Ann’s care. Maria’s eyes never left him.
‘Dex,’ Bane said, his tone easy enough, but his face was brooding. ‘This visit was probably unwise.’
‘Blame me,’ Ann said quickly. ‘I called him. He had a right to know.’
‘You expected me to stay away?’ Dexter demanded, a faint flush in his cheeks. ‘He could have killed her!’
‘I think you’ll find Maria had her own guardian angel,’ Bane said, and for the first time, he glanced across at me. Dexter did the same, but there was something altogether darker in his gaze.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘but what about the rest of us?’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Later, in my room, I was twenty pages into The Catcher in the Rye when there was a tentative knock at my door. I was finding it hard to concentrate on the printed page and was glad of the excuse to put it down without feeling like a literary peasant.
‘It’s not locked,’ I said, which, for once, was the case.
I’d been hoping for Maria – although not as much as I’d been hoping for Bane – so Dexter’s lanky presence came as a surprise. He’d changed his clothes and his fair hair was damp from a shower. I swung my feet down off the bed and put the book aside, careful not to spill the key I was still using as a bookmark. He took his time about speaking.
Eventually, with a sliver of defiance, he said, ‘I’m told I oughta thank you.’
Double-edged, but not outright hostile.
I shrugged. ‘That depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On why Maria w
as targeted in the first place.’
Dexter moved across to the window, leant on the wall nearest and stared out through the glass. ‘How do you know Nu wasn’t after you and Maria got in the way?’
I shook my head. ‘He had plenty of other opportunities, but I think he wanted to get us both together. Any ideas why?’
It was Dexter’s turn to shrug. ‘You tell me. Things were fine here until you came.’ He tore his eyes away from the view of the compound outside. ‘Until you took Thomas away to his death.’
‘From what I’ve been told, it looks like Nu may have had a hand in that one, too. This thing is centred here,’ I said mildly. I paused, thinking of the circled newspaper story about the oil refinery visit. Right up Debacle’s street. Fishing, I added, ‘What I don’t know…is why now? We were tasked to extract Witney, and it had to be done quickly, but he’d been here five years. What’s kicked all this off now?’
Dexter ignored that. He twitched restlessly away from the wall, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, then said abruptly, ‘Thomas had been helping us – Debacle, I mean.’
‘His son died for your cause,’ I said. ‘Why would Thomas help you?’
‘Because he came to believe in Randall.’
‘Helping you with what?’
‘Whatever we needed. Research, mainly, but if things got tight, he organised an escape route across the border to Mexico. Maria’s extended family would give us shelter when we needed it.’ The affection in his voice told me he’d needed it more than once.
‘So, it was all bullshit, that stuff you fed me back in Scotland – about the reasons Thomas Witney stayed in Fourth Day.’
Dexter smiled thinly. ‘We wanted to throw you off track. I remembered the name Parker Armstrong soon as you said it. He was the guy they hired to grab Liam when he first came here.’ A flash of contempt lit his eyes. ‘He missed.’
Understanding made me ignore the jibe. ‘Ah, so when I started asking questions about Billy…’
He nodded, sober. ‘Randall thinks I’m a fool to have come back here, but I couldn’t come before, when Maria needed me, so…’