THE ANALYST
K.A. BRAGONJE
Table of Contents
Title Page
The Analyst (Emily Lee, #1)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Author Notes
Follow me
Acknowledgments
First published in 2018 by Alzena House
Copyright © 2018 by K.A. Bragonje.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, businesses, organizations, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any person or entity (including but not limited to Google, Amazon and similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
Visit the author’s website at www.kabragonje.com
ISBN : 978-0-6483880-0-5
e-ISBN : 978-0-6483880-1-2
First Edition : August 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Justin, Jake and Aaron
When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.
Henry Ford
Chapter 1
Two nights ago, Emily Lee, a globe-trotting Financial Analyst, disembarked from a late night international flight and slipped back into Melbourne life unnoticed.
Her suitcases still piled up just inside the front door to her apartment. She’d felt like it’d been some time ago, but it had only been a couple of months since she was last here. In the prime of her career, she still loved the feeling of being handed a crisp new folder with the details of a new project contained inside.
The excitement still rushed through her, because new projects usually meant a new country and a new fully furnished apartment. To Emily, new assignments always felt like a new beginning, without the need for regular time off.
“Always working. You only need to worry about yourself,” her sister Sophie said, her voice trailing off. “Freedom. I kind of remember what it felt like.” Sophie jiggled her unsettled infant daughter on her hip.
Emily caught her sister looking around her dining room and shifted from one foot to the other. She hadn’t had a chance to tidy up her mess before her sister arrived.
Stacked, empty noodle boxes sat to the side of the dining table. Left-over noodles clung to the outside of the boxes and onto the sprawled-out papers underneath. On the wall close by, all sorts of paperwork, printouts and photographs were pinned. Colored strings connected some of the items to each other.
Noticing her sister shrugging it off, Emily relaxed her shoulders.
“Freedom? If you call living out of a suitcase freedom.” Emily tilted her head toward the stack of suitcases still unpacked near the front door.
While her sister’s attention was distracted, Emily picked up the empty noodle boxes before any comments were made on her housekeeping... or lack of.
“Yeah, not that bit. But, you get to see the real world. Immerse yourself in the different cultures.”
“I guess.” Emily shrugged.
“I’m sorry for last night.” Sophie wiped a tear from her cheek. “I just... had no one to turn to.”
Her sister wasn’t even meant to know she was back. He didn’t even know she was in the country. But after her phone call last night, in tears, Emily had to console her sooner rather than later.
Emily wiped more tears from her sister’s face. Grabbing her niece from her sister’s hip, she pulled funny faces at her, but her niece wasn’t too sure of her aunty, and her bottom lip quivered.
“It’s okay. Do you want a cuppa?” Emily walked towards the kitchen. “Tea? There’s got to be something here.”
Emily rummaged through the pantry.
“A stiff drink would be great. But a tea would also be nice. Only if it’s not too much bother.”
Emily chuckled. “I’m sure we can manage that stiff drink. But I’m not too sure little bubba here,” she tickled her niece’s tummy, “would appreciate it.”
The child cracked a little smile for a moment, then returned to her uncertain look.
“Ah, here we go. How does,” Emily picked up a box and turned it over, “peppermint tea sound?”
“That’ll be great, thanks.”
“So, what’s been going on?” Emily asked as she flicked the kettle on.
“Exhaustion is an understatement. Between Scarlett keeping me busy and worrying about Tom.”
Emily froze, a teabag dangling above a cup. Her heartbeat sped up.
“Worried? How?” she asked, trying to sound calm, hoping her sister hadn’t picked up on the nervous twitch in her voice.
Sophie waved her hand. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.”
Emily placed the teabag in the cup and faced her sister. “It’s not nothing, though, is it?”
“I just worry when Tom leaves for his urgent overnight business trips. Sophie is so little, I worry if something goes wrong—”
“He always returns home, right? Yeah?”
“Yes. But when he comes home from these trips he’s very secretive, distant. He pulls away when I try to touch him.”
“He’s probably tired. I know I’m tired for the first few days after a trip.”
“No. There’s something else going on.”
“What makes you say that? He loves you both dearly. I see it in his eyes when you two are together. He dotes on you two.”
“On his last trip the washing machine broke down mid cycle, water was gushing everywhere. I couldn’t get hold of him on his cell phone so I tried his work.” She wiped a tear and took a deep breath. “They belittled me and told me there’s been no busi
ness trips, not that they’d send an office clerk on anyway.”
Emily almost spilled hot water on the bench. She glanced at Sophie but her sister was busy wiping away another wave of tears.
“I thought he was—”
“That’s what he’s been telling me all along, too. I’d like to know what he actually does.”
“Sounds like you need a break, get away for a little bit.” Emily handed a cup of tea over.
“Thanks.” Sophie took a sip and paused, the cup not far from her lips. “Do you think he’s going to leave me and Scarlett?”
Emily looked into her sister's eyes. Pain and tears gazed back at her. She took a deep breath. “How can anyone leave two gorgeous women like you?”
Sophie waved Emily’s comment off.
“I’m being serious. If he leaves you for another woman, I’ll personally deal with him. He’d have rocks in his head if he left you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to him.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Look at your beautiful daughter. You can’t tell me she hasn’t got her mother’s looks.”
The corner of Sophie’s lips turned up a little. Her daughter reached for Sophie but Sophie turned her attention to Emily’s table, and Scarlett began to whimper.
“So, what are you working on here?” Sophie asked as she picked up a piece of paper.
“A little something on the sideline.”
“A little something?” Sophie chuckled. “It looks more serious than that. You on another case?”
“Kind of. I don’t want to bore you with my stuff.”
“Hey, it’ll be a welcome relief.” Sophie grabbed her daughter, giving in to her fussing.
“I warned you.” Emily smiled. “A job came through the email system. The sender looked familiar but it wasn’t one of our normal clients. Anyhow, the boss brushed it off. Reckoned he had more important projects for us to work on than some poor farmer who’d allegedly had his land taken by the bank.”
“That’s terrible. I think I remember something about that. It was in the paper the other day. Was it a farmer from the North-East area of the state?”
“That’s the one. I didn’t feel comfortable with it being pushed to the side. So, in my own time, I’ve been conducting my own research.”
“Busy is an understatement. You looking after yourself?”
“Yes, Mom.” Emily winked at her sister.
“Looks like it with those noodle boxes you hid.”
“It’s quick, filling, and has veggies in it.”
Unable to come up with a comeback, Sophie shook her head and smiled.
“It looks like you’ve made some progress.” Sophie squinted at the wall of connected notes.
“I think so. And I don’t like what I’ve found.”
“Okay.” Sophie raised her eyebrow, gesturing for Emily to continue.
“I’ve got to go over everything one last time before I hand it in to my boss. But it goes right to the top. I want to be certain first.”
The high-pitch annoying news music played at a higher pitch than what Emily had set the television to. She slightly turned her head to see what was so important. Another report of a shooting happening over in America, she wondered.
A female local news reporter in a newsroom appeared, her tone somber as she commenced her segment. “Breaking news just in. There’s a hostage situation occurring right now at the Bank of Victoria headquarters in Collins Street, Melbourne.”
Emily’s eyes glued to the television.
“Will this-”
“Shh.” Not taking her eyes off the television screen, Emily held her hand up to her sister.
The news reporter continued, “Information is sketchy. But we believe at least one employee has been taken hostage.”
The news reporter pressed her finger against her ear. She nodded periodically. Her attention returned to the camera, and she stretched her hand to receive a sheet of paper that was being handed to her.
“Sorry, everyone,” the reporter continued. “Further information just in. A farmer, Harry Fry, from North-East Victoria, has claimed responsibility for today’s situation at the Bank of Victoria headquarters in Melbourne. I’ll now read you the statement issued by the hostage-taker. These are the words of the hostage-taker, and not those of this broadcasting channel.”
The reporter scrutinized the piece of paper before reading out loud, “Today we unite as one. For too long now, the corrupted banks have done what they want, when they want, without a care in the world for our country’s law and policies. What’s even worse, the government are turning a blind eye to the corruption that’s happening on their doorstep. No one in power is asking the banks the tough questions, no one is keeping them accountable.
“They’re stealing the properties of hardworking Australians, the majority of whom have never defaulted in their life. My family’s farm, which has been in our family for many generations and was run very successfully, was also stolen from us in recent weeks.
“The banks are not providing any of us with any evidence to support their actions.
“Some of my farming friends who have had their land stolen from beneath their feet are no longer with us. Their pride and the fight against the big banks proved to be too much for them to take on.
“Today I’m taking a stand for these property owners, and their families, who cannot speak up. It’s time for the government to wake up and take notice of what the banks are doing to our country and get some balls and do something about it.”
The reporter faced the camera. “The words of a very unhappy farmer.” She shuffled some papers in front of her before continuing. “Police have informed us the two blocks surrounding the Bank of Victoria have been closed off to all traffic. Everyone is advised to restrict all unnecessary travel to the banking district until the situation is resolved. We will bring you more news as it comes in.”
Advertisements returned to the television. Emily took a couple of steps toward the screen. Her eyes drifted across to her collaged wall behind the dining table, a wall she’d covered in photographs, notes and printouts. She focused on a central photograph of a middle-aged man.
“I... I don’t believe it,” Emily whispered.
Chapter 2
He positioned his sniper on the window ledge.
Lucky thirteen, he thought.
Thirteen hits since he’d been discharged from the Army two years prior. Before that, in his previous life, you couldn’t count his kills on your fingers and toes. You’d need three or four sets of digits, at least, to get close to his total hits. He had been a top marksman in his crew until he was court-martialed and discharged.
“Tom, do you have the target in sight?” a voice with a Chinese accent asked on the other end of his headpiece.
He zoned in on the target’s window and made some final adjustments to his sniper. A light came on inside the apartment. Perfect.
Tom noticed movement in front of the window as the curtain was pulled back. The target stepped in front of the window.
He gasped.
“You sure this is the target?” Tom asked into his microphone.
“Do you have a clear shot?” the voice in the headpiece demanded.
The target faced the window, her face visible. A small infant, no older than twelve months, cried in her arms. It seemed she was trying to calm the infant down, pointing to something outside the window, directly at his location.
Tom tried to shrink farther beneath the window ledge, although he was already well hidden from his viewpoint.
“I repeat, do you have a clear shot?” The command was deafening in his ear.
Tom returned to his position and stared at her through his scope. He’d never known where she lived or what she did for a job. Tom had tried countless times to get her to let them go to her place. She was rarely home, and when she was she always insisted they meet secretly at some swanky upper-class city motel.
A smile app
eared on his face as he remembered how he loved the way her hair flowed over her shoulders and down the front of her chest. How she would giggle when he would brush her hair away from the side of her face to steal a kiss before she would abruptly leave the motel room, leaving him alone in there to reminisce on the previous night's rendezvous.
He shook his head and snapped back to the job at hand.
“There’s a problem,” Tom said.
“You need to take the shot. NOW! Do I need to remind you there’ll be consequences if you don’t take the target out?”
“The target has an infant in her arms. I don’t take out kids!”
“I don’t care! She’s in our way! Take care of her. If you must, take them both out. NOW!”
Looking through his scope, he could see something had caught her eye inside her apartment. She turned her head away from him.
A noise in the distance caught his attention. He lifted his head and cocked his ear in the direction of the noise. Not too far away, sirens blared and tires screeched as the cars took the corners quickly. It sounded like they were turning from the west side of the city square heading towards the city center. Some were a little farther away, but they still sounded like they were heading his way.
“Shit! They were quick! I haven’t even-”
He’d been familiar with sirens sounding soon after leaving jobs, but not before a job was taken out.
“No, it’s just a coincidence,” Tom said quietly.
“Take the shot. Get out of there now! You have ten seconds to clear the hell out of there,” demanded the voice on the other end of the earpiece.
Tom pulled the trigger.
Chapter 3
A loud shatter came from behind Emily. She dropped to the floor and huddled in a corner. All was quiet except for the TV. Looking around, Emily found her sister on the floor, cradling her daughter. Both were quiet. Emily crawled over the shards of glass to her sister.
“Soph,” she screamed, shaking her sister.
There was no response, not even a whimper from Scarlett. She got up on all fours and cradled her sister’s head, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down her face.
“Nooo, Soph. Stay with me. You can’t leave me, not now. I... I need you.”
The Analyst (Emily Lee Series Book 1) Page 1