by Tony Salter
‘Have you told him about Odell and Damocles?’
‘Not yet, but I think I’m going to have to, don’t you?’
‘I think it would be a disaster.’
‘So what should I do?’
‘Stick with the plan. Bring him here and we’ll fix everything together.’
‘I don’t think I can. I think he’ll go straight home now.’
‘Find a way,’ I said, consciously willing my words to sink in and take root. ‘Use your charm. Once he’s here, I’ll explain everything. I know he’ll understand.’
Nicki didn’t reply for a long time and I could picture the conflict raging in her mind – two halves of her personality sparring with each other like Judo fighters or Sumo wrestlers. One was a true warrior, strong and determined and the other was feeble and indecisive, but somehow the weakling was managing to hold on and avoid defeat.
We all started with those two personalities inside us, locked in a never-ending tussle. It was what made most people weak – they couldn’t ignore the side which wanted to do “the right thing”, which was afraid of taking risks, which didn’t dare to go against the crowd. Growing up I’d been the same. Even when my father was at his worst, a part of me had always tried to understand him, wondering if it was all my fault or worrying about making things worse. The day I left that bastard bleeding on the kitchen floor, the weak, whining half of me stayed with him and I never looked back.
Nicki didn’t know it, but she was close to her own moment of truth. She just needed to hold her nerve a little longer.
Old Friends
After Nicki stormed out of the hotel room, I was left standing alone like a rejected teenager at a school disco. Even though no-one was there to stare at me, I still felt awkward and self-conscious.
I sat down on the end of the bed, trying to make sense of what I’d just read. On the plus side, I could forgive Nicki for hiding so much from me. I’d watched her face while I was reading the email and it was clear she believed every word.
The minus side was much more disturbing and sinister, even by Julie’s standards. I knew Julie well enough to know that the idea of her stepping in to help Joe was rubbish. Out of the goodness of her heart? I doubted Julie had ever helped anyone with anything. She only ever thought about herself and an apparent favour like that, even mixed with self interest, didn’t make any sense. There were other secrets lurking behind the story of Nicki and Julie and the more I thought about it, the creepier it seemed.
Although I knew in my bones I was right, the revisionist history as painted by Julie was clever. All the questions and concerns that we’d had about Nicki’s background were neatly answered – challenging any one of those explanations sounded paranoid and ridiculous even to me.
It didn’t matter. I wasn’t wrong. I’d seen the look in Julie’s eyes when she’d pointed the gun at me in London. I’d heard her admit that she’d deliberately driven my mother to suicide and I believed she’d killed both her father and that policeman. Julie was a cold-hearted vengeful psychopath and would stop at nothing to achieve her warped goals. I’d always known that I was a target, but now Nicki was in danger as well. I had to find a way to convince her of the truth.
‘Sam?’
I turned to see Nicki standing in the doorway.
‘I’m sorry I ran out,’ she said. ‘I just stupidly thought everything was going to be OK after you’d seen the letter … and then …’
‘That’s OK,’ I said. ‘I’m not angry with you. Quite the opposite, in fact.’
I saw the look of relief on Nicki’s face and she stepped into the room pulling the door closed behind her.
‘But,’ I continued. ‘We do need to talk. This is serious. When was the last time you were in touch with Julie?’
‘I went to see her about a month ago, just after she’d been moved to Downview. She asked me to come. Said she didn’t have anyone else.’
‘And you never suspected she was lying to you?’
Nicki’s nostrils flared. ‘No. Why would I?’ she said. ‘I know that you and Daz and your father believe all sorts of terrible things about her, but she’s only ever been good to me. She helped me as a child, she supported my dad financially and she kick-started my career. Let’s face it, I’d have been stuck in the care system if it hadn’t been for Julie.’
‘According to her version of the truth. Julie’s twisted everything in your mind. It’s what she does. You need to …’
‘I don’t need to bloody do anything.’ Nicky smashed her hand onto the desk. ‘You weren’t ever in a care home. You’ve no clue what it was like. I never knew it was her who helped me get out, but when I found out …’ She glared at me, her eyes red raw and mascara-smudged. ‘… I owe her … surely you understand that?’
I turned away and walked over to the window. Seeing Nicki so open and exposed felt almost indecent.
‘Sam,’ she said. ‘I know you feel strongly about this, but so do I and I’m fed up with being told what I should or shouldn’t think. You’re almost ten years younger than me and it seems pretty arrogant for you to decide you’re a hundred per cent right about everything, and imply that I’m just naïve and stupid.’
I didn’t know what else to say. Trying to convince her that Julie was a dangerous psychopath was getting me nowhere. On the face of it, she had a point. The dilemma was real, as were the two truths. The only difference was that my truth came with a tangible physical danger and I’d actually seen both sides of Julie. Unfortunately, I could see that Nicki wasn’t in any mood to be convinced.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I need to find a way to make you believe me, but now obviously isn’t the time. Why don’t we get something to eat and sleep on it? Then, in the morning, we can go and see Roberto as planned. Once that’s out of the way, we’ll sit down and have a proper talk. How does that sound?’
The relieved smile on Nicki’s face seemed a little excessive in the circumstances. She must have been expecting a huge fight.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That sounds like a good plan … and I promise I’ll do my best to keep an open mind.’
We took the coast road from Bari. I was navigating, and we had plenty of time. The first hour took us along the side of the beach and, although the place must have been wild and beautiful once upon a time, mass tourism had left its mark. The Italians colonised beaches like ants and we drove past mile after mile of regimented umbrellas set back from the sea in precise rows, dozens deep. Beneath and around the umbrellas, the dark slowly roasting bodies were lined up, almost touching, but not quite. It wasn’t my idea of a holiday and from the occasional snort coming from Nicki, not hers either.
It wasn’t until Manfredonia that the scenery changed. We turned up into the hills above the sea on a narrow road which wound its way between olive groves and then, as we entered the national park itself, Aleppo pines – their twisted trunks and the green haze of their needles stretching up the mountainside and down to the sea below.
This was what I’d been hoping for and the next half hour was more of the same. Nicki had been unusually quiet – I suspected she was nervous, both about meeting Roberto, and about the Julie conversation which we had planned for later.
A few kilometres after Vieste, right at the end of the Gargano peninsula, we were supposed to take a right turn, but there was no road and we drove straight past, before turning and driving back slowly.
‘Here,’ I said, pointing into the trees. ‘It must be this one.’
There wasn’t a proper road although the satnav insisted this was the right route. Nicki turned down the gravel track and into the forest. It was narrow, but well-surfaced and we wound back and forth between the trees for over a kilometre before the track opened up into a large clearing. Facing us was a high stone wall and a pair of ornate wrought-iron gates.
‘Bloody hell,’ I said. ‘Where did Roberto get the money for a place like this?’
‘I think he inherited it,’ said Nicki. ‘It looks huge.’
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We drove towards the gates, which opened automatically, leading us down a formal drive flanked by matched cypresses and towards a huge ornamental fountain in front of the house. I caught a flicker of movement in the wing mirror as the gates swung silently closed behind us.
‘Even if he did inherit it,’ I said, ‘it must cost a fortune to keep up.’
We parked in front of a row of stone-built garages, got out of the car and stared up at the villa. Even during my time with Julie, I would have been impressed by this place. We were approaching from the land and couldn’t see the sea from where we were standing, but I could just hear the sound of the waves and smell the salt air. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what the coast-facing side would be like.
‘Wow,’ said Nicki. ‘What an incredible place.’
‘I like Uncle Roberto already,’ I said, walking towards the front door. ‘Come on. We might as well say hello.’
As we walked up the marble steps, the door opened to reveal a small, pretty woman, dressed in black. She launched into a babble of Italian which was met by blank looks from both of us. She smiled. ‘Please,’ she said, and gestured for us to follow her through the house and out onto the terrace.
The coast-facing side of the house was even more spectacular than I’d imagined. Completely isolated and alone at the end of a long promontory, there were views to the sea on all sides. It must have been worth millions.
The woman – I assumed she was Roberto’s housekeeper – gestured to a table which was already laid with a selection of drinks and a bucket of ice. ‘Please,’ she said again, before turning and disappearing into the house.
‘Some wine?’ I said to Nicki and lifted the bottle from the ice bucket.
‘Why not?’ she said.
I saw that she was avoiding looking at me and, as she reached out to take the glass, her fingers were trembling.
‘Nicki? Is everything OK? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, taking a sip of her wine and turning away to face the sea.
She wasn’t fine. I was certain of it. Something was worrying her, and she didn’t want to say what it was. I leaned over and rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘You can tell me,’ I said. ‘I’m your brother. Whatever it is. You can tell me.’
Nicki turned towards me, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘I’ve not been totally honest with you,’ she said. ‘I should have told you about …’
‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘We agreed we’d talk later.’
‘No I’m not talking about that. This is different. I …’ Nicki’s eyes snapped wide open as she stared over my shoulder.
I span around to see a slim figure step out of the house and into the sunshine.
‘Hello Sam,’ said Julie.
Secrets and Lies
I wasn’t used to uncertainty. Although people were erratic and unpredictable by nature, I’d always found it easy to keep them moving in the right direction, especially in groups. The herd mind was easier to manage; it didn’t take much – a little nudge here or there, or a promised reward – to drag them onwards. Combined, or course, with the willingness to remove the odd rogue element if necessary.
Driving people to do what was required had become second nature to me; I never needed to think about it. As I stood alone in my bedroom that morning, I realised that I’d become complacent in my certainty that there would be no more major surprises in my life.
Events of the previous year had shaken that complacency, and I’d been genuinely nervous all morning. Would Nicki succeed in persuading Sam to keep the meeting with dear old Uncle Roberto? Or would she betray me and tell him about everything – Damocles, Odell, the lot? I had other options, of course, but I wanted this saga, this piece of Grand Guignol, to follow my new script until the end.
Much as uncertainty and nervousness felt unfamiliar, the euphoric joy I felt when I watched Sam and Nicki step out of the car was more intense than anything I could remember. It was an almost-sexual thrill, but without the fleeting, ephemeral nature of an orgasm.
The pleasure and excitement continued to build as I walked down the stairs reaching a crescendo when I stepped out onto the terrace. Looking at the look of surprise and terror on Sam’s face, I almost blacked out.
Sam and Nicki were frozen in a rigid tableau, his head and shoulders twisted towards me, one hand still on her shoulder and fat tears were frozen on her cheeks.
I walked towards them, smiling and relaxed. ‘I see you’ve found the wine,’ I said. ‘Would you mind pouring me a glass, Sam?’
The tableau fell apart. Sam turned back to Nicki, arms raised almost as though he might hit her.
‘You knew about this?’ he shouted.
Nicki nodded her head, looking at me to say or do something to help.
Sam’s hands dropped helplessly to his sides. ‘Bloody hell, Nicki,’ he said. ‘You’ve got no idea what you’ve done.’ He looked back at me before running down the steps and out into the garden.
Nicki stood alone, watching him disappear into the orange groves at the side of the villa. He wouldn’t get far. The cliffs, high fences and Signor Russo would see to that.
Sam was, of course, right – Nicki had no idea what she’d done. I walked up to her and wrapped her in my best attempt at a Godmotherly hug.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘He’ll be back soon enough. Come and sit down with me.’ I handed her a white linen napkin from the table. ‘Here. Wipe your eyes.’
By the time Nicki had wiped the mascara off her face and calmed down, I was ready for a second glass of wine.
‘I told you how he’d react,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter. When he comes back, he and I will have a talk and straighten things out.’
‘It was the way he looked at me,’ she said, still shivering. ‘He thinks I’ve betrayed him and I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive me.’
It was long past time for some home truths. ‘Nicki,’ I said. ‘Listen to me. I understand that you’ve been excited and confused to have a new brother, but you’re forgetting a few things. Important things.’
‘What?’ she said, eyes on fire. ‘All the terrible things he’s supposed to have done to you? The idea that he and Dave destroyed Pulsar to get rich themselves? I’ve got to know him much better over the past few days and that really doesn’t sound like him.’ She leant back in her chair and glared at me. ‘I’m sorry, Julie. I know how much you’ve done for me, and I am grateful, but I really don’t know who or what to believe any more.’
Letting the two of them meet had always been a risk. Unfortunately Sam was one of those genuinely decent people who wore their integrity like a second skin. Just like his mother.
‘That’s a shame,’ I said. ‘You may want to take a moment to think how that makes me feel.’ Playing hurt and hard-done-by wasn’t my strongest act, but I did my best. ‘Leaving that aside,’ I continued. ‘You have to remember Damocles. The virus you built, the virus you set loose on the two of them, and the virus which is set to destroy their lives over the coming weeks and months.’
I topped up both our wine glasses and smiled. ‘Let’s face it,’ I said. ‘You’ve already chosen sides and there’s no way back.’
I expected Nicki to crumble as she was forced to face the hard truth. Telling Sam about Damocles would only make things worse. She’d have to admit that she couldn’t call it back and watch as the virus did its worst. I’d seen her detailed specifications and there would be no defence.
In any event, Sam could never be allowed to leave the villa, but that was a detail she didn’t need to know and it only affected the timing of his fall.
Nicki didn’t crumble. I didn’t see defeat dull the gleam in her eyes. All I could see was guilt and shiftiness. I was missing something, but what?
‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ she said. ‘I’ve been meaning to, but the opportunity never came up.’
‘Go on,’ I said, gripping the edge of the table as the blood started to pulse in my neck
.
‘We weren’t able to find a way to stop Damocles once it was released.’
‘I know. You told me.’
‘In fact I don’t think it’s even possible,’ she said. ‘The innate survival instinct is too strong, just like a real virus.’
I looked at her, trying to work out what she was leading up to.
‘So we found a work-around,’ she said. ‘Quite an elegant one, in fact.’ She was gripping her wine glass in both hands, knuckles white with tension. ‘We developed a milder version, a Damocles Lite, as it were. All we needed to do was to change the fundamental parameters of the mission. Damocles Lite is designed to be very invasive and annoying, but not totally destructive. If the target doesn’t give in, we still have the option to release the full Damocles.’
‘And Sam and Dave are experiencing Damocles Lite?’
Nicki nodded. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to use the full version,’ she said. ‘Not until I’d had a chance to meet him.’
And there it was. That feeble, indecisive weakling whispering in Nicki’s ear and holding her back. I felt the anger building inside me, a white-hot furnace of rage. Nearly forty years to reach this point and she was putting everything at risk.
I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to slap her like the stupid little child she was.
She was still clutching her wine glass like a talisman – her eyes seemed mesmerised by the sunlight flashing sparks through the crystal – so she didn’t see the fury and frustration which threatened to overwhelm me.
I couldn’t bellow at her and tell her what an idiot she’d been. That would only make things worse. I felt as though I was standing alone in front of a crumbling dam, desperately trying to fill up holes only for more to appear. Why couldn’t people just do what they were told?