Extremities

by C A Devine

  My partner, Detective Brown. ‘Yes, Yolanda. Who’s Max?’

  ‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’

  ‘11pm.’

  ‘Not in Europe.’

  ‘What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?’ Bear in mind I’m her superior officer. And it was the middle of the night. So I kinda got the impression it was serious.

  I dragged myself up and into alert mode, my body protesting viciously. ‘Hello to you too, Detective, what’s up?’

  ‘You don’t sound so good.’

  ‘It’s a long story. What’s up?’ I said again.

  ‘What’s up is, the Feds are here asking all kinda questions about you. And they have a warrant to search your office.’

  ‘What?’ That was all I said because for a moment everything went grey. I sank back into the pillows, trying to suppress a groan and fought back the urge to vomit.

  ‘I repeat,’ it was Yolanda, ‘what the fuck?’

  I closed my eyes and tried to focus, but my mind was a complete blank. ‘I don’t know, Yolanda. I’m in Europe with my own problems.’ I didn’t have the time or the energy for this. ‘I have no idea what they are up to and right at this moment I don’t care. The DEA are probably just looking for something so they can blame me for more of their fuck-ups.’

  ‘FBI Feds.’

  ‘FBI? Really? When did they turn up?’

  ‘Ten minutes ago. I’m out here in the little girl’s room, not on the phone to you.’

  ‘Like I say, I have no idea. That’s the truth. Have they said what they are looking for?’

  ‘What do you think? But whatever it is, it’s recent. They keep asking me if I’ve heard from you in the last forty-eight hours. And if I know what you are up to in Europe?’ she mimicked me.

  ‘Over here? You have to be kidding. Why would the Feds be interested in my trip to …?’ The photograph? It couldn’t be. ‘I’ve got to go. Find out what you can.’

  ‘Hold on, what do you mean? You do know what this is about. What is it, Mac?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I need to check something. Find out what you can. I’ll call you back.’ I hung up.

  I called London. Olly was awake. ‘Piss off, Ryan,’ the line went dead. I hit the call button again. ‘What the fuck were you trying to do to me?’ Again, no preamble. I was causing a lot of people to swear; this was serious.

  ‘I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just need to find that woman. Who is she?’

  ‘I have no idea, but her picture has got someone’s knickers in a twist. I start the search, and next thing I know, I’m in an interview room, stuck on the wrong side of the table, with the assistant commissioner in front of me, asking where I got the photo. And believe me when I say, he was not a happy man.’

  ‘Did you give me up?’ The sound of an engine coughing to life nearby caught my attention.

  ‘Of course I gave you up. I owed you a favour, not my career.’ She had a point.

  I hung up, pushed out of bed and dragged on shorts. My head gave a spin, then settled. I climbed up on deck. The faint pink glow of dawn hung in the distance. I scanned the marina. The engine was running on the Laila.

  I hauled my body over the bow rail and hobbled down to Max’s boat.

  A woman was crouched, uncleating the port mooring line. ‘Who are you?’ I snapped.

  She looked up at me, studying me a moment, ‘This is my boat, therefore, I think I should be asking you that.’ Was her accent French? She was tiny, 5 feet, with flowing fair hair.

  ‘Where’s Max?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Max, this is her boat.’

  ‘Ahh,’she nodded. ‘She told you that her name was Max. She is gone,’ she shrugged. ‘She called me to say she was leaving. Well … leaving me.’ She pulled in the line, coiling with an experienced hand.

  ‘Leaving you?’

  ‘Is it any business of yours?’ she paused, looking up at me, then again with the ‘Ahh.’ Is it just because they can’t think quickly enough in English, or is all the sighing with Europeans for real? ‘You and she were?’ she tilted her head. ‘She and I were also,’ she paused as if searching for the word, ‘involved. Well as much as anyone can be involved with her.’

  ‘I thought Max was …’ this was confusing. My head was pounding.

  ‘Look where you are, Mr?’ she raised an eyebrow. I didn’t respond. She continued, ‘Straight, gay, bi, in this town it doesn’t matter. If you do not approve, you are in the wrong place.’

  ‘I don’t not approve.’ I was a straight man, of course, but I didn’t not approve of two women having sex, ‘I just want to find her.’

  ‘I would give up if I were you. She is nomadic, she never stays long anywhere, I guess it is her time to escape. Just like you, she tells me nothing, so I accept and move on. It is probably best for you if you do the same.’

  ‘What did she tell you her name was?’

  She hesitated a moment, ‘Lucky. Now, if you do not want to end up in the water, I would let go.’

  ‘I saw her being snatched off the street by two men during Fiesta Major.’

  Her fingers stopped untying the line, but she didn’t look up at me. For ten long seconds she just stayed where she was. When she finally spoke she said, ‘Are you sure? Fiesta Major is boisterous; you could be mistaken.’

  ‘I know what I saw. Do you know how rare it would be for a random abduction to occur on the street, involving two perpetrators?’ She gave an almost imperceptible nod. ‘And then for you to coincidently turn up the next day, claiming the boat named after her mother is yours.’ I paused to let it sink in. ‘Do you want to tell me what is going on?’ My cell rang, I checked the screen, ‘Yo, Yolanda.’

  ‘I hate that.’

  ‘I know. Anything?’

  ‘Your dad just called me, wanting to know where you are. He didn’t sound pleased.’

  ‘What did you tell him?’

  ‘I’m ambitious and he’s my superior officer. What do you think I told him?’ She puffed out a breath, ‘God, I love being your partner. This is about some girl, isn’t it? Mac, is Max a girl?’ I said nothing. ‘You might have mentioned it earlier. Well, big trouble partner. This Max woman is some kind of AWOL British agent.’

  ‘What?’ Max was a British agent?

  ‘You heard me, and they want to know what you know.’

  ‘I don’t know anything.’ I glanced down at the boatwoman, she hadn’t moved, she was listening to my call. It was a trade, keep her there, or keep the call private. I’d keep her there. ‘I didn’t know that. I just …’

  ‘From the looks of her, I can guess what you just.’

  ‘Don’t be crude, Yolanda.’

  ‘Your dad’s pissed.’

  ‘What else is new? And they don’t know where she is?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Brits, her government, whoever?’

  ‘I think that’s what AWOL means.’

  Did Angelo? Did he grab her? What about her father? ‘Is her father some big shot in Scotland Yard?’ A tiny flinch from the boatwoman; I had a feeling I was on the right track.

  ‘Scotland Yard, London? I don’t know. I can check it out. What are you still not letting me in on?’ Yolanda said.

  ‘Nothing at this point, I’m still trying to work it out for myself. As soon as I have, you’ll be the first to know.’ I hung up.

  The boatwoman pushed to her feet. ‘Do you know her father?’ I asked. She started walking towards the stern. I took a leap, ‘Cecile? It is Cecile, isn’t it?’ She stepped down into the cockpit, lifted something from the floor and started back down the deck towards me, arm behind her back. A gun? I pushed the boat away from the key. She grabbed a shroud, struggling for balance. I took off, hobbling away down the dock.

  ‘Stop,’ she shouted. I broke into a jog. Bile rose in my throat as I tried to push through the pain. ‘Stop, Mr Ryan,’ she shouted again, but she didn’t fire. I glanced over my shoulder. She had the gun in her right hand, pointi
ng it in my direction and a cell in her left, held to her ear. I kept up my half run as I turned onto the main dock. In the distance, two men in suits were tearing in the entrance.

  I hobbled in the opposite direction. ‘Phee.’ I needed a place to hide out, some time to think. ‘Phee.’ I headed down the dock towards the back entrance. ‘Phee.’ Where was that coming from? I swung my head around. Pepe was signalling to me from a crack in the door of his café. I looked back, the suits were running in my direction.

  I shuffled over and pushed through the door into the darkened café. Pepe eased it shut behind me, fixing the blinds back in place. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Be silent,’ he said, ‘the suit out there.’ He spat on the floor. Nice. ‘They look for you and Max. Feds right? I watch TV, I know.’

  I didn’t say anything. He didn’t seem to need a response.

  ‘I have something for you.’ He pushed a dishtowel across the wooden counter towards me.

  ‘A dishtowel?’ I looked up at him.

  He made a big show of glancing around to see if anyone was listening. Was there someone here? ‘No, behind.’ I picked up the dishtowel. A journal lay underneath. ‘Max left here. By mistake I think, or maybe not,’ he winked. ‘Maybe you need.’

  ‘Max’s journal?’ He nodded.

  I picked it up and started to flick through it. It was notes on the next part of the story. I slid down into a chair. ‘I have a roof terrace. You can look down, they can’t see up. You can watch them.’ I nodded, pushed myself back up and followed Pepe up three excruciating flights of stairs.

  The terracotta terrace housed nothing but a couple of old plastic patio chairs. I pulled one to the edge and sunk into it. I gazed out at the panoramic view of the boats. The nightclub in the Marina was emptying and men were strolling hand in hand along the main dock, spouting in loud drunken voices, making out. Why exactly had Marcus decided to keep his boat here?

  The two suits were chasing back and forth among the revellers, checking faces. Cecile meanwhile headed for Marcus’ boat. I watched her hesitate before vaulting the bars. A moment later, the lights blinked on.

  My cell buzzed. ‘You were right about the father. Did she tell you that?’ Yolanda rode right in.

  ‘Yolanda, is Marcus gay?’

  ‘You have Feds biting on your ass and you’re asking me is Marcus gay?’

  ‘Well, is he?’

  ‘It’s not my place.’

  ‘Why did he tell you and not me?’

  ‘I’m an ambitious African-American woman in the NYPD. Why do you think? And you have been kinda … preoccupied,’ her usual harsh tone turned soft at the end.

  The suits left the main dock and started to circuit the slips.

  ‘Yolanda, he called his boat Two At A Time.’

  ‘He might be gay, Mac, but he’s still a man.’ She sighed, ‘You never noticed anything?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘The flash suits, the fancy restaurants, the European kissing thing.’

  ‘I thought he was a stockbroker,’ I said.

  ‘How about the fact he never had a girlfriend?’

  ‘He dated.’ He did, models, lots of them. Generally for one or two dates. Okay, so it was glaringly obvious. ‘Yolanda, is Marcus’ mom really Spanish?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘No need to adopt the attitude, I’m just trying to put it all together.’

  ‘How, in hell, did you ever solve any crimes? Sometimes I think you couldn’t detect your way out of the bathroom.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking the same thing myself recently.’

  ‘Did you go naked on that beach?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Marcus tells me there’s a beach full of naked people next to that boat. Tell me that you did not get naked on that beach.’

  ‘There are Feds dancing on my ass and you want to know if I was on the beach with my johnson out?’

  ‘I surely do.’ I knew it would come back to haunt me.

  I watched the suits continue their search. Maybe I should give myself up. If that was Cecile, surely she was interested in finding Max. But why had Max gone AWOL? And was she an agent? Or was she in there out of her depth, untrained? I needed more information before deciding my next move. I picked up the journal.

  19

  Notes from the Journal (The Lie VI)

  Bang! A shot rang out behind me. Angelo’s henchmen had arrived. I tore through the forest, weaving around trunks, leaping over stumps, springing through moss. Thud. I tripped on a root and tumbled forwards. I splayed my legs, threw my top weight back and managed to keep my balance. I chose my steps more carefully as I started forward again. No point in getting caught with a broken ankle. I ploughed on, one step after another, after another, until I heard very little and finally nothing. They were losing me. Or not following me. I wasn’t sure which. Why had Angelo let me go?

  I hopped over a small stream. Who was the mole? Jason, Michael, Cecile, Dad? They were the only ones who knew about me. And what had they told Angelo?

  What did I do now? I couldn’t call it in. What if I contacted Dad and Cecile was there? If she was the mole, what would she do to him? Or maybe more people knew and I just didn’t realise.

  The trees began to thin into a field of tall grass. In the distance I could see the main road to town. I walked towards it then turned to take a parallel route 100 yards out. I stomped through field after field in the direction of the main town. For two hours I just walked, trying to piece together the information that would give me a clue as to who the mole was.

  Jason? He didn’t like me and he didn’t care much for Cecile either. Was it women in general he had a problem with? Even if that were true, it didn’t necessarily mean he’d sell out his country. Michael? He never seemed to have an opinion on anything. Cecile? I had made no secret of the fact that I didn’t much like her, but Dad wasn’t normally such a bad judge of character – he’d been in this game thirty years. And Dad?

  At 6am I hit the outskirts of the town and headed for the station. I was freezing and exhausted. What was I thinking? The town would be their first target, the train their second. I kept walking. The next town was 5 miles further on.

  *

  At 9am I stood at a bus stop with a prepay mobile in my hand. I made the call.

  ‘McKenzie.’

  ‘Dad, are you alone?’

  ‘Lucky? Why are you calling me?’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘Yes, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Where what?’

  ‘Where are you alone?’

  ‘I’m in the car, stuck in London traffic. What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?’ He sounded annoyed.

  ‘They bought someone off,’ I gasped. ‘That’s how they found me.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘They know,’ I shouted. ‘I barely got away.’ I waited for a response. And waited. And waited. ‘Dad, did you hear me? Dad?’ my heart was pounding, and I could feel my eyes filling. I sucked in a deep breath. ‘Did anyone apart from the team know I was there?’ I held my breath through more silence.

  ‘No,’ he finally said.

  ‘Well, it has to be one of them, doesn’t it? I can’t come in now, can I?’ I was trying to be brave, but it wasn’t working. ‘Dad, what should I do?’ I wanted him to come and rescue me. ‘What should I do?’ Goodbye secret agent woman. Hello Daddy’s little girl. The silence this time was unbearable. Tears of exhaustion spilled over and rolled down my cheeks.

  ‘Just …’ The rest of his words were drowned out as the bus pulled up. ‘Where are you?’ The door hissed open.

  ‘At a bus stop.’

  ‘Good.’ I stepped on and found myself an empty double seat. ‘Go somewhere. I don’t want to know where. And keep a low profile. I have this number now, I’ll call you. Just keep out of sight. Are you okay?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Do you have money?’

  ‘Yes, Dad, and I have yo
ur emergency credit card.’ The one he always made me carry and I had never used. There was no need to tell him about my other funds.

  ‘I knew this was a bad idea,’ he barked out a laugh and I smiled. ‘I love you Lizzie, it’ll be …’ he sighed.

  ‘What’s wrong, Dad?’

  ‘Jason followed the car. He found the bags.’

  ‘And?’

  He blew out a breath.

  ‘Dad, what is it?’

  ‘The bags contained …’

  ‘What?’ Another protracted silence. My heart banged against my ribs. ‘Just tell me, Dad.’

  ‘Body parts.’

  ‘What?’ A shudder ran to my extremities.

  ‘Mutilated hands, feet, arms. Bomb victims.’

  ‘How? Why?’ I tasted bile.

  ‘You didn’t know.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Even suspect?’

  ‘No, Dad. Do you think I wouldn’t tell you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s just …’

  ‘Do you have any idea who they belong to?’

  ‘None. What the hell is he up to?’

  When I hung up I settled back and pulled the cover off the phone. By the time I jumped off the bus in Marseilles, I had done a lot of reading, reviewing, thinking. Dad wanted me to lay low until he gave me the all-clear. Unfortunately, I had other plans.

  20

  Truth or Lies? (Day 5)

  Out on the ocean, day after day, you have a lot of time on your hands. We were having another of our cockpit heart-to-hearts. I sipped coffee; Max, whisky.

  ‘So, The Lie is the truth?’ I cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She shrugged, ‘Spending so much time alone at the villa, I nearly went mad. Not being able to go anywhere, or do anything. Having this whole incredible story unfold around you and not being able to talk about it was very …’ she considered what word to use, ‘difficult. So, I started to write and I didn’t feel quite as lonely.

  ‘Then in Spain, when you turned up on the beach, and you were flirting with me, and God, you were good-looking. And then there was the sex, what can I say?’ she laughed. This made me smile, I couldn’t help myself. ‘The phrase fuck me comes to mind because you certainly did,’ she rolled her eyes. ‘And you were fun. And this boat, I had been coveting that since the moment I arrived. When you turned up, it was fate. I was meant to sail her.