Everything was still in there. A change of clothes, her favourite lock picking kit, books and a bright pink frilly umbrella. She’d thankfully had the good sense not to pack the history of MI6 book she’d been reading. She rummaged around the bottom and found a small wooden box. It was damaged, probably during the crash. She extracted the pen. It was bent. It appeared worse for wear and she doubted it even worked. Without thinking, she clicked it.
Nothing happened.
No ninjas burst through the ceiling. The Eighty-Second Airborne didn’t kick down the front door. Eva would have to rely on her computer skills after all.
She really was screwed.
The chef cleared her plate and she followed it out of the dining room with her eyes longingly. “That was…bloody amazing.”
“And to think I found him cooking for tourists on a junk in Halong Bay. Chen can make even the most basic ingredients into a sumptuous banquet.” Harry patted his napkin on his lips. “Since he’s been cooking for me he’s had ridiculous offers to open his own restaurants in New York but turned them all down.”
“That’s loyalty.”
“Not really. I pay him a preposterous amount of money. That’s not loyalty, its capitalism.”
Eva rolled her tongue around her mouth determined to savour every last skerrick of flavour. They were seated at a booth in a dining room that would put most of those New York restaurants to shame. The warm wood panelling, velvet drapes, old-style wooden chairs. It certainly wasn’t in keeping with the tropical theme. It reminded her of John’s Grill in San Francisco. She and Harry had dined there one night and Eva had fallen in love with its old world charm and history. He’d even offered to buy her the original Maltese Falcon on display. It occurred to her that the décor may not be coincidental. She chose not to mention it.
It had been obvious to her as soon as she entered the main house that Harry had been building this outpost for some time. It was a cathedral to modernity and luxury. It certainly wasn’t a few huts slapped together. It had been executed with an unbelievable eye for detail. The house was opulent and magnificent.
She had to wonder why she never heard about the island when they dated. This wasn’t something Harry had thrown together since London. How long had he been planning all this?
The chef interrupted her thoughts by announcing their next course would be in five minutes. Eva salivated. Pavlov would have been proud.
Thankfully there was no sign of Van Buren. In fact, there had been little sign of anyone. Apart from Harry and Chen, Eva had only seen one other human, a butler who had escorted her to the dining room. She had to expect there were more than Harry, Van Buren, Chen, the butler and Harry’s physician on the island. She assumed Harry wouldn’t be fixing his own toilet. Although the idea did amuse her.
Harry, as usual, was excellent, attentive company. The night had all been extremely pleasant. There was something on Eva’s mind that would make it significantly less so. She couldn’t let it wait any longer.
Eva picked up the glass of Spanish Dominio de Pingus wine and took a polite sip. She then gulped down the rest of the glass and refilled. It was an attempt to brace herself for what was to come. There was one burning question she’d failed to ask since Harry had rescued her in Prague. Something that had scorched her insides since it happened. The image forever forged in her brain.
If she was to play the part of the returned ex-girlfriend, there was a question in that particular script. Strictly to appear as the upset ex, nothing more, of course.
“So, Harry…”
“Hmm?”
“Here’s a fun question.” Eva traced lines in the tablecloth with her knife. “How could you leave me to die at the penthouse?”
Harry’s expression was frozen in a grim half-smirk. It was as if he’d pressed pause on his face while he went off to make a tea and cultivate an appropriate response. Finally he spluttered and guzzled a glass of water. “Well, that came out of nowhere.”
“Sorry for blurting. You know me, when something’s on my mind. One of those questions that occasionally pops up. Like what happened to Richie Cunningham’s brother or why the Germans are so obsessed with reserving poolside seating. So, uh, why did you want me to die?”
Harry inhaled deeply and smoothed his already straight trousers.
“Eva, I didn’t…I never…look.” He blew a lungful of air towards the ornate ceiling. “I was rattled. When I saw you with that man I panicked. I hit the button and a split second later regretted it. The single biggest regret of my life, and I’ve been to a Hootie and the Blowfish concert.” The attempt at levity fell flat. It probably wasn’t the time to make light of leaving the person sitting opposite you to die. He forged on. “I tried everything to reverse it, Eva, I did. Screamed at it, punched it, everything, but it was a one-trip deal, straight to the basement. Van Buren was already there and bundled me out. I kicked and screamed the whole way, but he was following standing orders, my orders actually. I think I gave him a fat lip.”
“The poor baby.”
“I’m so sorry Eva. I’ve relived that moment every day since. It is honestly the biggest regret of my life. That’s why I was so relieved when you contacted me. I needed to start making amends. I know I have far to go, I do. That’s why I didn’t assume you’d want to stay at the main house. Small steps. I intend on making it up to you every day. It will take years, the rest of our lives. If you’ll let me.”
It was a good answer. Not a great answer, but good enough. She hadn’t made her mind up if she believed it or not. Academically, Eva could understand poor split-second decisions. She understood regret. She understood hurt. While it was all logical in a theoretical sense, her heart was not along for the ride. Not that it had to be, she reminded herself. She only had to appear like she cared.
Chen materialised and filled the void in conversation with the next course. Eva picked up her fork but she’d lost her appetite. She put down her cutlery. “I wasn’t with that man. I didn’t know him.”
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. “You looked pretty cosy to me.”
“I’d met him once, the spy. He tried to warn me off you when we first started dating. It didn’t take. That was the only time I’d seen him before, honest.”
Historically, Harry had been pretty good at reading her. She hoped sprinkling in truth would make her act more believable.
“Yet you let him into my home, Eva. Colluded with him.” Harry lowered his gaze. “Betrayed me.”
Eva shook her head. “Nope. Too soon to play the guilt card. I’m talking about being wronged here, okay? I go first. You’ll get your turn.”
And he did. For the next hour they opened old scars. It was brutal. Food went uneaten. The looks Eva and Harry exchanged were enough for Chen to simply remove the still-full plates and leave them to it. There were raised voices, accusatory fingers and more than a few truth bombs lobbed. It was a knock-down, drag-out affair. No one was coming out unscathed.
If she was to be convincing, Harry shouldn’t be let off the hook lightly. Her role dictated she act as habitually as possible, and that meant she would make Harry pay for leaving her behind. The spying. Everything.
Eva found the role so natural she wondered if she was acting at all.
Chen hadn’t called it anything, but she viewed it as a kind of mutant Eton Mess. Every spoonful was like a tiny little mouth orgasm. She told Harry this and he laughed so hard cream came out his nose.
After two bottles of exquisite wine and four ports, the earlier unpleasantness was more or less forgotten. But not entirely. Whatever version of Eva she was playing, there would be no letting Harry off the hook any time soon. In fact, she refused to acknowledge the existence of a hook.
He had always been a bit of a lightweight when it came to drinking, so she thought it may be the time to prise some information. If she was feeling tipsy she could only imagine how Harry was feeling. Though, as she stared at him glassy-eyed across the table he seemed as sober as a Mormon judge.
/> Eva licked her spoon. “Why are you still doing all this, Harry? The blackmail, the threats. Surely you’ve made your point by now?”
“And what point is that?”
“That governments shouldn’t be dicks and should listen to their people. You bringing it to the fore has resulted in change, but the harder you push the more governments will push back. I think destroying your penthouse shows they think you’re pretty much public enemy number one.”
He shrugged. It was a ploy. Harry was never unsure about anything. “I’m merely making everyone to do the right thing, is that so bad?”
“Making them. That’s just the point. You’re bending people to your will. You can’t make everyone on the planet do what you think is right, Harry.”
“Why not?”
Was he playing with her? “Because people have free will.”
Harry tilted his head. “Do they? Really?” He put down his spoon. “Okay. Free will verses being happy. What would you choose?”
“Can’t I have both?”
“No.”
He did love his moral conundrums. She rolled her shoulders in readiness for the debate to come. Early in their relationship it had become an almost nightly ritual. It had been as if Eva was his moral sounding board. “Alright. I know you’re expecting me to say free will, aren’t you? That’s what us lefty types always say, right? Give me liberty or give me death and all that? But you’re going to counter by saying what good is free will if I’m starving in a cave somewhere eating squirrel and my only friend is Roger the corn chip?”
“It’s uncanny how you read my mind sometimes.”
“Well, I’m going to shock you. I’d choose being happy. Most people would.”
“Would they?” The condescending tone riled her.
“Of course they would. Take Facebook or any other major social media outlet, most of yours, too. Everyone knows they on-sell everything about you to corporations but at the end of the day you need somewhere to post a picture of a cat wearing a sombrero, so what are you gonna do? Same with freedom. When it comes to the crunch, people really would sacrifice some free will, some liberty. Why? Because being happy is preferable to being miserable and living in a cave sucks monkey balls. Plus, I think Roger is seeing other people.”
“Sometimes you surprise me, Ms Destruction.”
“Sometimes.” Eva held up her index finger and waggled her eyebrows.
Harry blushed and shuffled his backside from side to side. “Well, yes, that was surprising. Tokyo, wasn’t it?” Regaining his composure, he said, “You’re equating freedom to the internet, but I’m talking larger than that. Most of the world has some sort of democracy, some way to elect their leaders and unfortunately the vast majority of those leaders don’t give a tinker’s cuss about their people. Do you think voters would sacrifice a tiny bit of democracy for a government that looked out for them? That had their best interests at heart and made the right decisions without being stonewalled by self-interested parties propped up by multi-nationals and vested interest groups only after profit?”
“So, a dictatorship then?”
“I wouldn’t use that word. I’d call it compassionate leadership guided by principles with slightly less democracy than some are used to.”
Harry was deliberately twisting things. Like he always did.
Her eyes narrowed. “Margret Thatcher said a benevolent dictatorship was the most efficient way to govern.”
“Old Maggie may have been onto something. Democracy is hard work. People don’t like hard work. When it comes down to it, they’d prefer to be at the pub, reading a book or hanging from the chandelier naked.”
They both grinned at that. Memories are a wonderful thing.
Where was he going with this? It seemed to be more than just one of their theoretical debates.
He was being deliberately obtuse but was up to something. That was part of the problem that had ended them. When they first started dating, Harry had shared everything with her. It was as if she had been invited into his secret world and he couldn’t wait for her to be a part of it. Slowly, imperceptibly, that had changed. His meeting explanations had become more vague and clandestine. She had never known if it was something she’d done or if he was trying to protect her.
She pushed the bowl away. “Is this related to your crack about a European currency? Are you angling for more than just environmental policy and supporting developing nations?”
“We’re simply talking about theoretical musings, Sweetie.”
And trying to piss her off. Sweetie. He would have seen her eye twitch. Eva was no Sweetie. “No, I know you too well, you’re planning something. Something big.”
Another shrug. The fact that he had no words told her more than an outright denial would have.
“So when does this thing drop?”
“Soon. Very soon. The next phase is already in play. An escalation of what I had planned when in London. They’ve just called a special meeting of the UN, so that’s a good start.”
“What are you really up to?”
“I’m only encouraging a more representative government, so it’s not all white guys in blue ties who have already made their fortune.”
“Encourage how?”
“A well-timed article in one of my papers, a signal boost on my social media platforms, some opportune campaign funds. Whatever is needed to have greater diversity and representation. If they recall my assistance later down the track, all the better.”
“There’s more to it, there has to be. The island wasn’t created on a whim, Harry. You’ve been planning this for an exceptionally long time. What are you aiming for, and don’t tell me for people to be good.”
Harry clasped his hands in front of him. He took a dramatic pause like when he gave a press conference. He was calling on his media training and she didn’t care for it. “The world is sick, Eva. Physically and emotionally. The environment’s shot because politicians have made global warming a political football and ignored the science. Governments are self-interested, ineffective and directionless. I’m trying to save the world from itself, Eva.”
“By doing what you think is right.”
“Correct.”
She didn’t like this side of him. The megalomania side. From a distance she could understand what he was trying to achieve. She really could. But she wasn’t at a distance. She was across the table from a man who wanted to control the world.
Harry leaned forward and took her hand. “Green energy, better distribution of wealth, universal healthcare, clean cheap water, food distribution that’s efficient and feeds all, not for most, but all. These are not ignoble pursuits. Nearly everyone agrees these are good and desirable things but they assume someone else will make it happen. If I have to be that someone else, then so be it.”
“By threatening those who legitimately came to power? By making them petrified you’ll release every lurid detail about them?”
“I’m simply reminding them why they’re there. Governments are in power because they govern on behalf of us, not over us. That’s democracy, something they’ve forgotten. I’m simply reminding them of that. If they go along with it because they don’t want the world to know about their internet search history for pictures of young boys, or the affair with an intern or what they really think of the prime minister, fine. No politician is going to fear threats of a pillow fight.”
“There’s that word again.”
“Pillow?”
“Fear.”
“See, that’s the thing. You think that given the chance people will intrinsically do the right thing, but I’m here to tell you, Sister, that’s nonsense. If every person on this planet did what was right we wouldn’t need laws, or lawyers, or police, or armies, or CCT, or contracts, or religion, or…”
“Or dictators?”
“Exactly! Now you’re getting it.”
“So, what?” she said waiving her arms about. “You’re going to blackmail politicians into voting you in as Eur
opean dictator?”
The comment was flippant. The reaction wasn’t.
“Again, I wouldn’t use that word, no.”
Eva was aghast. “Jesus titty-fucking-Christ, you’re serious?”
“I think the history books say Jesus didn’t titty-fuck anyone.”
“You don’t know, he totally could have. So you’re going to appoint yourself Emperor. Tsar. Monarch, whatever. That’s your end goal? To rule Europe?”
“For starters.”
“You’re insane.”
“Do you doubt me?”
She must have been drunk. She’d always said Harry was capable of anything, but he was surely taking the piss. Eva was still in shock at the audacity of his plans. For once she was speechless. She should have been outraged but was too anaesthetised for that. Her mind would need time to catch up. This wasn’t about ‘doing good’ any more. This was manipulation on a global scale. She’d always loved his passion and drive. In all honestly, she probably still loved the man too. But this was too much.
“You can’t blackmail every European politician into voting you in, that’s nuts.”
“The end result is what’s important. It’s for the greater good. I don’t need to, as you say, blackmail them all, just enough. Everyone, and I mean, everyone has something in their past they want to keep away from the public or loved ones. Everyone has a trigger. The fact that I’m getting them to do good deeds only smooths the way.” He sipped his port and his eyes wandered off contemplatively. “But that’s a long long way away. People need to see the results of my influence, get over the distaste of having someone influencing their leaders. They need to get on with their lives. Once things settle down, in a few years, a few select respectable politicians can suggest bringing me into the fold. Oh, that guy from the Battle of Trafalgar? Sure, why not? It will appear to be the most organic of ideas. Then,” he smiled, “we’ll see what happens.” He pulled his shirt cuff, a move he always made when he wanted to appear nonchalant but actually had a point to make. “You could always be my first lady.”
Eva’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not the marrying kind.”
The Barista’s Guide to Espionage Page 23