Targeting Dart

by Manda Mellett

  To my surprise, I found the details of the elaborate con which had caused him to be on the run in the French mountains. The world knew he had successfully defrauded a substantial amount of money out the small Arab state of Amahad, but what I’d found suggested that was only the tip of the iceberg. But I’m hardly going to admit to how I’d used my impressive computer skills to Hunter. I never divulge the details about that part of my life to anyone.

  Hunter isn’t stupid, and he’s been my friend a long time. He stares at me for a long moment before speaking again, as if trying to read the thoughts that are going through my mind.

  “Jesus, Cara. I hope you don’t hack into my systems, love.” His voice is stern, but he’s smiling.

  I can’t resist teasing him. “What, all those emails from women begging for your attention? I particularly liked the one describing in detail what she wanted to do to you. Or rather what she wanted you to do to her. Handcuffs, wasn’t it? Whips? Chains?” I ask mischievously.

  “You have!” Hunter dramatically clutches his hand to his heart as though I’ve wounded him, and his eyes widen in horror.

  “Just a lucky guess. You’re safe from me,” I assure him, chuckling. “I set up your security for you, remember? Even I couldn’t get in.”

  “Hmm.” Hunter brushes his fingers through his hair again and then puts his hand to his brow, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “Anyway, back to those documents. There’s something very fishy going on. I’m going to get the guys at Grade A to look into it a bit further. Cara, please pet, leave well enough alone now. Don’t get involved.” His eyes narrow. “Promise me you’ll leave it at that.”

  I nod. Having had a good nose round the files I’d found, the reports I’d given to Hunter had been the only thing of significance that jumped out at me. There was nothing else I could do. Hunter’s firm was the best placed to see if there was anything untoward about them. I’m happy to move on, so can easily give him the assurance he’s seeking.

  “I’m finished. And there’s no trace I’ve been in Benting’s systems.”

  I’m good at covering my tracks. More than good. It’s my turn to look at Hunter suspiciously as I wonder what he really does for a living. He doesn’t speak about his work, but the gangly fifteen-year-old had turned into a man with confidence and a muscular physique that shows he’s well able to stand up for himself. I feel a shiver going down my spine, glad that Hunter’s on my side and will always protect me. I wouldn’t want to be the person who gets on the wrong side of him.

  We sit in comfortable silence, the peace perhaps making me a little too relaxed as I find I’m spilling the rest of the can of beans. “It’s strange how coincidences happen,” I start. “Amahad’s popping up all over the place at the moment.”

  I take a sip of my now rapidly cooling coffee. “I was offered an all-expenses-paid trip there. Obviously, I can’t go, but they were quite insistent. Kept repeating the offer.” I watch as he glances up suddenly. I’ve caught his interest.

  “Why the fuck would they do that?” he asks, sharply.

  “They offered me a contract for some work.”

  Hunter draws in air loudly and sits forward on his seat. “I don’t like coincidences, Cara. Be careful before considering any offer of work from them. That part of the world is unstable.”

  I nod slowly. He seems strangely anxious for my response, but he needn’t worry; I can quickly reassure him.

  “It’s a bit late; I’ve already accepted it, Hunter. The strange part is that they didn’t hang about, and the contract was signed the next day. The government there apparently moves a lot faster than here.” When dealing with departments of the UK government, bids have to be prepared and submitted, presentations given, and often six months or more elapse before starting on the work. “It was an odd request. They wanted me to investigate the management of their investments.”

  “I didn’t know you took that kind of work on.”

  “No, I don’t. I can, of course. But it’s not my acknowledged area of expertise, so I’m not sure who would have recommended me. Anyway, no need for you to get your knickers in a twist, Hunter. I’ve already completed the bulk of the work. I’ve just got to write the report up and send it off. It has a relatively simple conclusion: they should fire their fund manager.”

  “Hmm.” Hunter sits back again, seeming a little calmer now he knows the work is all but concluded, but his demeanour suggests he’s not entirely buying the extent of my involvement. “And you’ve got legitimate access to their systems?”

  “I’m just writing a report for them, Hunter,” I repeat my previous answer, trying to keep my face a picture of innocence. Idly, I pick at a loose thread on my comfortable baggy jumper, and look down at the damage I’m causing, unable to meet his eyes. What I don’t tell him, but suspect he guesses, is that I also have unauthorised access to their systems. It hadn’t even been that difficult; somebody else had already set up a back door. It must be the fact I’m feeling guilty that makes me open my very big mouth and let something escape I really wouldn’t have said otherwise. The words flow out of their own accord before I can stop them.

  “I wouldn’t even have taken the work on if it hadn’t been for my father.”

  Suddenly, I notice how still he’s gone and how I have his full attention. Shit, what the fuck made me say that? I sigh, knowing he’s going to be like a dog with a bone now. Hunter knows a bit about my past, knows I only met my father once in my life in that fateful meeting which devastated me, but he’s never known who my father was. No one does. I’ve never spoken about it, never thought it was important. But with Amahad popping up everywhere...

  Hunter’s next question doesn’t surprise me. “Cara,” he begins cautiously, as if afraid of the answer. “You never mention that man. So tell me, just exactly who is your father? I’m not leaving here without you telling me, so you might as well spill it.”

  After the conversation we’ve just had, although I don’t want to admit it, I’ve dug myself into a hole and have no option but to use the truth as my spade to get out of it. Fortifying myself with a deep breath, I decide to admit to the secret I’ve kept close all my life.

  “Joseph Benting.”

  After our previous conversation I was expecting he might greet my revelation with surprise, but I’m astounded when Hunter leaps from his chair, comes over, leans down and peers deeply into my face. Then with a loud “Fuck!” he starts to pace the room. Pausing his pacing after a few seconds, he returns to me, grasping my arms in his hands, his touch so hard it’s almost painful.

  “Say that again! Who is your father?” he growls.

  “Joseph Benting.”

  He’s shaking his head, his hands clasped at the back of his neck. He leans his head back and huffs out a breath. He seems utterly rattled for some reason. “But your name is Carson!”

  I sigh. I generally keep details of my family to myself and it’s difficult to come clean. Telling myself I can be proud of what I’ve become, despite my origins, I block out the shame of my parentage. Another thread on my well-worn jumper is sacrificed as I gather the strength to tell him. “I was born after my mother left my father, or rather after he kicked her out when she became pregnant. From birth, my surname has been Carson. That man has nothing to do with me. Mum put ‘father unknown’ on my birth certificate.”

  Standing up and releasing me, Hunter brushes his hand over his eyes and then drags it down to his mouth. “That explains why you got the Amahadian reports. You just had to satisfy your curiosity about Benting, didn’t you?” I struggle to catch the words he’s saying; he’s half talking to himself. “This changes everything.”

  “Hunter, what’s so wrong?” I knew he’d be surprised by my ancestry, but I didn’t expect him to have a major flip about it.

  “Cara!” Hunter rasps out at me, his voice angry. “Just tell me, what are you up to? You’re not doing something stupid, are you?”

  He’s apprehensive about something; his fists are clenched a
t his sides, palpable waves of alarm emanating from him. I’m puzzled. Hunter’s not usually interested in the boring accountancy work I do and has never reacted like this before, even when I’ve shared what I can of my legitimate work to identify criminals. I watch his face carefully, wondering what he’s getting all worked up about. After a moment, he speaks again. “And the Amahadians want you to go out there? Did they say why?”

  “No idea,” I reply. “Everything can be done from here. I’ve told them that, but I keep getting the invitations. Someone called Kadar Kassis is very insistent. I expect it’s just the way they work.”

  “You’re not going under any circumstances.” He seems adamant.

  I look out of the window; it’s chucking it down with rain, rivulets of water running down the glass. Winter in England; probably nothing worse. Part of me would have loved to go to a different part of the world and experience different cultures, different sights and sounds. But the thought of being in a crowded airport and stuck on a plane with hundreds of strangers trying to hide their pitying looks fills me with horror. I sigh.

  “I’ve completed the work remotely, and there’s no need to go. But it might have been nice to.” Then I shiver, realising that I didn’t dare. I hadn’t exactly stayed on the legitimate side of my access to their systems. But heaven knows what he’d say if I admit that to Hunter.

  He frowns. “Cara, what if they’ve made the connection between you and Joseph Benting? They’ve no reason to love him.”

  “There’s absolutely no way they could have found out that he was my father. My name’s Carson, as I said, and there’s no evidence of anything to associate me with him.” I start getting frustrated that he won’t let this drop.

  He looks at me fondly and then shakes his head. “For an intelligent woman, I can’t understand how you can be so fucking stupid, Cara. You run traces on people, pet. Which means they can too. There’ll be evidence somewhere. Christ, you frustrate me sometimes!”

  I look up quickly, annoyed by his criticism. “I’ve told you; his name’s not even on my birth certificate. Anyway, I’ve just said: it’s a moot point. I’ve told them I can’t go. If they had any suspicions about the relationship, there’s no way they’d have let me near their financial systems. Benting must be the new swear word in that country.” The frown on his face shows me he’s still not convinced, so I put more conviction into my voice. “Look, I’m not going anywhere; the project I’m working on is about to close. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

  My words still don’t seem to make Hunter any happier. Once again his hands rake through his hair. “I worry about you. Here you sit in command central doing heaven knows what. Fuck this hacking habit of yours. Just because you can do something Cara, doesn’t mean you should. I worry you’ve no idea what the real world is like.”

  He’s beginning to irritate me. As if I don’t know what I’m doing! My legitimate criminal investigations occasionally put people in gaol, but sitting behind my screen I admit it’s tempting to think nothing more of them than pawns being moved around a virtual chessboard. But his offhand comment gets to me, and I find myself contemplating what I found when I delved into Amahad’s systems. Aware that Hunter’s waiting to see if his warning has sunk in, I let my thoughts wander.

  Someone had been in their finance system aeons before I got there, and all I’d had to do was use the back door they’d left. And that person had been robbing Amahad blind. Large sums of money were disappearing from their state coffers; the theft had been going on for some considerable time. The stolen money went through an ingenious series of cleaning processes, so it took me some time to track down what was happening. But that’s the type of game I enjoy. I discovered the culprit as well, surprised to find it was someone at the very top of the government chain. But as I couldn’t expose him without revealing I’d gone where I had absolutely no business going, I solved the problem another way. I tracked the money until it disappeared into a Swiss bank account and then simply stopped it getting to its final destination, diverting it back into the Amahadian trading account, and correcting the work of the lazy fund manager by putting it into high-performing investment bonds. It had been a good game on a wet afternoon, and I was quite proud of the outcome, feeling I’d righted a wrong. The thief would benefit no more and certainly wouldn’t have the guts to complain about it, as he’d only expose himself. Oh, and I shut that back door and locked it for good. I have nothing to worry about. The Amahadians should thank me for it!

  With a shake of my head, I tell him confidently, “Don’t worry about me, Hunter. I know what I’m doing.”

  Hunter doesn’t seem reassured. He crosses the room, gazing out the window at the rain. Clearing his throat, he turns round and gives me a piercing look. “Cara, you need to be very careful.”

  “Careful?” I narrow my eyes, perplexed. “I already said I’m not going to put my head in the Amahadian lion’s den.”

  Hunter opens his mouth as if say something more; then, with a shake of his head closes it again. I know he’s got more to say, and I’m not left waiting long. “Let’s work on the worst-case scenario. If Amahad knows you’re Joseph Benting’s daughter, you’re probably classed as an enemy of the state or something.”

  I rise to my feet, my ire increasing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Hunter! I’ve never had anything to do with Benting – well, except the once.” I pause, as memories of that ‘once’ echo in my ears. I shudder to remove those thoughts. “There’s nothing to link me to him. And even if there was, what have I got to do with the fraud he committed?” I huff at him, confident that he’s overreacting. I can’t believe how he’s acting. In fact, I’m starting to feel angry; I don’t like being censured. I snort.

  “Hunter, I’m an accountant!”

  “You’re Benting’s daughter!”

  “So what?” My voice gets louder.

  He comes over and, taking my hand, pulls me back down on the couch and sits beside me, his body angled so he can see my face.

  “Cara, listen. I’m going to look into those survey reports further. Something is going on and if my suspicions are right, there’s something or someone very big behind it. I don’t know what you might have got yourself mixed up with. You haven’t told anyone else what you’ve found, have you? Your friends at Scotland Yard?”

  I shake my head; there’s no one else I’ve got this sort of relationship with, no one with whom I would discuss anything like this. He’s waiting for my verbal denial, so I give it to him. “I promise I haven’t said a word. And I cleaned up after myself; there’s no trace I’ve been near Benting’s systems.”

  After a moment of searching my face, he nods his approval, reading that I’ve given him an honest answer.

  “Cara, I’m going to take this to the team at Grade A and see what they think, and whether it’s worth delving deeper or whether it’s something to worry about. Will you give me some time to try to get to the bottom of this? And, in the meantime, will you be very careful?” He puts up his hand to stop my protest, clearly seeing I was going to tell him again that I didn’t see any reason to be cautious. With a huff, I swallow the words.

  It’s no problem for me to agree to take care. I rarely go out, and my home is a place of safety; Grade A installed the security for me, at Hunter’s insistence, of course, another example of him being my protector. No one would be getting in without Grade A being alerted. My nod of agreement seems to reassure him.

  “I’m going to be out of communication for a while, but here,” he reaches into his pocket, selects a business card and hands it to me. “If anything suspicious happens, give this number a call.”

  I take the card, noting it is the direct line to Ben Carter, the senior partner of Grade A.

  “When we put this to bed, I’m going to drag you out of command central myself. No arguments. So be prepared to get your glad rags on,” Hunter tells me with a smile. His worry seems to have diminished with my lack of argument.

  “Oh, Hunter,” I te
ll him. “Not gonna happen.” Having a panic attack in the middle of a busy pub isn’t something I wish to repeat.

  He looks at me carefully. “Yes, it will. I won’t let you say no.” Glancing down at his watch, he frowns. “Hey, I didn’t realise the time. I’ve got to love you and leave you, pet. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can, but please, please think about what I’ve said.”

  As he gets to his feet he pulls me with him. He holds me at arm’s length, looking down into my eyes. I can’t remember ever having seen him so serious. His hands tighten as if to emphasise the point. “Set the alarm system after I’ve gone. And be extremely careful who you open the door to. If you don’t know them, don’t open it. Any more strange contact from Amahad, anything that worries you; ring Ben.”

  I’m perplexed by the way the whole afternoon has gone. I don’t understand why he’s acting like a bear with a stick up his arse. Amahad is halfway round the world and I do all my work remotely. Cara Carson has absolutely nothing to do with Joseph Benting. Hunter is exaggerating a non-existent risk. But, acknowledging he’s genuinely concerned, I nod to reassure him.

  My gesture isn’t enough for him. He takes a grip of my chin. “I need words, Cara.”

  “OK, Hunter. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  He tilts my head up and looks into my eyes as if measuring the sincerity he sees there. What he sees must satisfy him.

  “Keep in touch, Cara. If anything unusual happens, let me know. I might have to go away for a while, but I’ll get someone in the office to keep you informed of anything we find. And, pet, please stay out of the Amahadian systems!”

  I give him a gentle thump on the arm to show my frustration. I’ve given him my word I’ll be careful; that should be enough. With a fond smile, he gives me a hug, pecks me on the cheek, and then takes his leave. He turns at the front door and throws back at me that trademark self-deprecating grin which makes him look even younger and more boyish. When I see it, I can understand the effect of that expression on other women. They all but fall at his feet, especially when he starts speaking with a touch of that American accent he still hasn’t lost completely.