by C A Devine
I started to roll with her, raising the pace. Her moans changed to little cries I recognised, as she began to climb. I thrust faster. I was close to the edge, but I needed her to come with me. I slipped my hands to her breasts, rolled her nipples between my thumb and forefingers, in a move she begged for in the past. Her cries became louder, fuller. I pushed harder. I felt her body shudder above me. She let out a breathless scream and I was lost to sensation.
She collapsed onto me, gasping. She buried her head in my chest and I felt her tremble. I lay back and closed my eyes.
‘You are such a good man,’ she whispered.
‘No, I’m not. I’ve wanted to do that since you stood on the dock in your oversized running gear.’
‘But you didn’t, you didn’t even ask.’
‘Was it,’ I felt my face flush, oddly embarrassed, ‘okay?’
She lifted a hand to my face then leaned up and kissed me tenderly, nuzzling on my bottom lip. ‘It was perfect, New York, you haven’t lost your touch.’ Her tone turned playful, ‘So perfect, in fact, I doubt you could do better.’
‘Oh really, do I get to try?’
‘If I remember rightly, it might take a bit of time before you’re up for it.’
‘Ouch, now that hurt.’
*
We watched the stars, snuggled together on deck, drinking hot coffee. Max had the sails out full and we were making good headway despite the wisp of a wind.
‘I love you.’ She had never said it before. She had said she should have, that she had wanted me to love her, but she had never said she loved me until now. Something about her tone frightened me.
I stretched my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in towards me, letting her warmth flood me. I leant down to her ear and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Her eyes lingered on her hands a moment before looking up into my face, ‘I need you to know the truth.’
‘What truth?’ The fear started to grow.
‘This whole thing is,’ she paused, ‘so much more than you think. You deserve to know everything. And if you … well, you’ll have to decide for yourself.’
‘You’re scaring me.’
‘I know, and I don’t mean to. Just listen. You wanted to know why I worked for them. Why they wanted me to. Because I had the skills they needed. I can speak Pashto.’
29
The Mole (Day 9)
A shrill ring interrupted the moment. Max jumped up, slid down to the chart table and grabbed the satellite phone. Mom’s voice rang out over the speaker.
‘He’s up on deck, Mrs Ryan, I’ll get him,’ Max said.
‘It’s Ms MacKenzie, Karen MacKenzie. It’s Max isn’t it? Please, call me Karen. How are you?’
‘I’m good, Karen,’ Max said, ‘and you?’
‘Worried about Mac,’ her voice sounded sad. She paused for a moment and I swung down into the cabin to tell her I was there when she said, ‘You know, MacKenzie grew up alone. No brothers, no sisters, and two ambitious parents that were always that bit too busy to do all the right things. He wasn’t an angel, oh my lord no,’ she laughed softly, ‘but he never let us down. Maybe we would have deserved it if he did. But his father and I got off lightly, we know that. We were so proud the day he graduated from the academy and the way he rose through the ranks. Despite what people think, it wasn’t an easy thing to do with such high-profile parents.
‘But the last few years have been tough on him. Two years undercover, I’ve seen what it does to people. I didn’t want him to do it. But he thought it would be good for his career and he was right, if he survived it. I’m not sure he rightly did.’ She paused again and I knew I had to announce myself, but I couldn’t find my voice. ‘He was passing information to my unit and for two years that was often the only way I knew he was still alive,’ her voice hitched. ‘Then to go from hiding under the radar, constantly watching your back, to the spotlight and being compared to your parents. And then the case. To see all those women he had loved …
‘And, as usual, neither his father nor I were there for him as we should have been,’ she let out another sigh and a lump jumped to my throat. ‘He’s my son and I love him very much. And despite what he may think, he was always more important to me than my career. He deserves some happiness.’
‘I love you too, Mom,’ I finally said.
‘Mac, I didn’t realise,’ Mom stumbled, ‘I didn’t realise you could hear. How long have you been there?’
‘Long enough.’
‘I’m looking forward to you coming home,’ and I could tell by the tone of her voice, she was smiling. ‘We’ll have dinner at the house and you can introduce me and your dad to Max, properly.’
‘You and Dad aren’t going to cook, are you?’ Max frowned at me.
‘What’s wrong with my cooking, MacKenzie Patrick Ryan?’
‘Just don’t do the meatloaf, Mom. Please.’ Max rolled her eyes.
‘That’s enough of your attitude, young man.’
Max shook her head. I smiled at her. She wouldn’t be doing that if she had ever tried the meatloaf.
‘My meatloaf is the talk of the town.’ She could say that again. ‘I have someone here who wants to talk to Lizzie. You’re going to have to explain this whole name thing to me, MacKenzie.’
‘Hello Trouble,’ Joe McKenzie’s voice echoed around the cabin.
‘Hi Dad,’ Max grinned from ear to ear, lighting up her face, but followed it up with a frown, ‘what are you doing in New York?’
‘We’ll get to that in a minute, how are you feeling Lizzie?’
‘Better, Dad.’
‘Ryan, how is she?’
I smiled over at Max, ‘There’s definite improvement, sir.’
‘I hope you’re feeding her up,’ Joe said and Max rolled her eyes again.
‘I…’ I paused as Max opened her mouth.
‘Don’t tell him about the sex,’ she mouthed, shaking her head.
‘I-I…’ and I started to choke.
‘Are you alright, Ryan?’
‘Fine, sir, fine,’ I spluttered, swinging an arm at Max. She ducked out of the way, giggling.
She stepped back up to the phone, ‘Why are you in New York, Dad?’
Joe didn’t dodge it this time, ‘Michael received intel. Ariana is headed back to New York. After my meeting with Karen, we are heading out to meet up with his source.’
‘Who’s with you?’ Max asked.
‘My team: Cecile and the spooks.’
‘Is it safe?’
‘Not yet.’
‘They don’t know?’
‘No. Only Karen, Patrick and I know anything. We all agree that it’s better that way.’
‘Do they suspect that you know?’
‘Most definitely. Karen has been under a lot of pressure. For some reason the spooks feel she, more than anyone else, will know. But what can they do?’ We all knew. It didn’t require an answer.
‘How much trouble are you in over this, Karen?’ Max asked.
‘Nothing I can’t handle. I’m sure the NYPD would like to know where Mac is. Apparently he’s harbouring a rogue British spy.’ I could picture her mouth forming into a smile. ‘None of that really matters. What does is this. My son has never asked Patrick or me for anything in his adult life, until now.’
‘How’s Cecile?’ Max asked.
Joe laughed, ‘She’s fine.’
‘Joe, does she sail?’ I finally asked the question I hadn’t wanted to face for days.
There was silence. Finally, ‘Yes, she does, why?’
Max glared at me and I shrugged my shoulders mouthing a silent, ‘What?’
‘Are you any further along on the body parts?’ she cut across me.
‘The DNA cataloguing is taking time, but the real problem is what to try to match them to. Early analysis suggests they are an ethnic mix, black, white, Asian. I’ll let you know more when I do.’ We heard shuffling. ‘I have to go, I’m running late. I’ll let you know what comes out
of tonight’s meeting.’ They hung up.
I stepped over to the galley and filled the coffee pot. Max sank into the chair at the chart table, pulling her knees up. She swung back and forth on the seat, letting out a long sigh.
‘He’s a good man. Scary, but good,’ I said and she smirked.
‘This whole thing has probably wrecked his glorious career.’
I poured the aromatic black liquid and handed her a mug, ‘He knows the risks. You’re more important.’
She nodded, swallowing a gulp, ‘And that just makes me feel more guilty.’
‘Michael, which one is that?’ I asked.
‘The young spook; those guys are creepy. And Jason, the older one, really didn’t like me, kept sticking his gun in my face. They seem to have no rules at all. Dad doesn’t trust them, but he has no choice, but to work with them.’
I flashed back to the military hospital and my blundering attempt to force my way in to see Max, to the moment the two spooks took me down.
Max dropped her knees and looked over at me, ‘We need to have this conversation. I don’t want to wait until we’re nearly there.’
‘They didn’t know who I was. The connection was only made by your father a couple of hours before. They weren’t supposed to know me.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Max frowned at me.
‘Joe didn’t pass on the information because he knew there was a mole. But in the hospital, the young spook – he knew where to land the punches. He hit me bang on my gunshot wounds, both of them. He wouldn’t have known unless someone had told him. And the only way that could happen was …’
‘If he was the mole,’ she finished my sentence. I nodded. ‘Dad just said that he was heading out to, oh God, no,’ the blood drained from her face. ‘Get him back on the phone, get him back on the phone,’ she roared in panic. I grabbed the phone, picked Joe’s number and hit call.
A siren howled around the cabin screaming in my ears. ‘What is that?’ I said, looking up and around.
Max stared wide-eyed at the radio, ‘The DSC, someone’s hit their DSC.’
‘Out here?’ The red panic button on most modern marine radios will send your vessel’s ID and GPS coordinates to all ships within radio range, if you hold it down for five seconds. The receiving radio sends out an almighty screech just to be sure you don’t miss it. It’s called Digital Selective Calling or DSC. The chances of someone picking up the signal out in the ocean away from shipping lanes, as we were, was highly unlikely. But then again, we just did.
The siren stopped only to be replaced by a panicked English accent, ‘Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Shakira, we are sinking. Over.’
The phone was ringing in my ear; no-one was answering.
‘Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is the Shakira, we are abandoning to the life raft. Can anyone hear us? Please help us,’ the voice shook on the final phrase.
Max checked the coordinates of the DSC transmission against our GPS. ‘We are only 10 knots away. We could be there in just over an hour. Let’s stick on the engine,’ her voice was calm, but her grey pallor betrayed panic. ‘No answer?’ her eyes pleaded.
‘Not yet.’
She sucked in a deep breath, ‘Keep trying. I’ll call the Shakira.’ She picked up the radio handset.
I redialled Joe’s number and headed up on deck.
‘Shakira, Shakira, Shakira. This is the Two At A Time, we are 10 knots away. ETA one hour twenty. How many persons on board? Have you set off your EPIRB, over?’
‘Who is that?’ the panicked voice asked.
I turned the key in the engine. The GPS had recorded the DSC position, so it was literally the touch of a button to set the autopilot on an intercept course. In case you’re wondering, yes, these things practically do sail themselves and unfortunately a lot of people land up to their necks in trouble precisely because they rely too much on the technology. Planes fly themselves too, but when you step onto a commercial aircraft, it’s comforting to know there are still two pilots in the cockpit. I adjusted the sails for the wind direction.
‘Shakira. Shakira. Shakira. This is the Two At A Time, responding to the Mayday of the Shakira. We are approximately one hour twenty minutes from your location. What is your status? How many persons aboard? Over.
‘We’re going down. Help us.’
As I slid back down into the cabin, Joe’s phone was still ringing in my ear. The voicemail kicked in for the third time. ‘Joe, it’s Mac, call me back ASAP.’
Max looked over at me, ‘Do these people not understand that you do the course and the drills so that when it happens you don’t behave like this?’ She sucked in another deep breath and pressed the button again on the radio, ‘Shakira, this is the Two At A Time, we are en route. Using your DSC coordinates. Have you changed position since you hit the DSC? Over.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Shakira.’ Static hissed. She let go of the button and tapped an irritated finger on the handset. ‘He keeps pressing the call button when I’m talking,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Still no,’ her big brown eyes were on me again. I shook my head. She looked back at the radio and sighed, ‘Shakira. This is the Two At A Time. Are you drifting? Have you set off your EPIRB? Over.’
‘I don’t know, what’s that?’ An Emergency Position-Indicating Radio Beacon signal is satellite based. It would ensure that the nearest coastguard would receive the message. But we would still be the first to arrive out here.
‘Shakira. This is the Two At A Time. It’s a luminous yellow box, probably attached to a rail out on deck. You should have one if you are out here. Over.’
There was silence for a few minutes then the radio cracked again, ‘I can’t see anything on deck.’
‘Shakira, what is your current status? Over.’
‘I told you,’ he screamed, ‘we’re getting in the life raft.’
‘Look pal, calm down. Now, what’s your name?’ Max snapped.
‘Jason.’
‘Jason, we are a small craft. If you have a lot of people, then I need to call for more help. You don’t have time for me to explain everything. So just answer the questions. How many people? Over.’
‘Two,’ the voice was suddenly meek.
‘Okay.’ Max let out a sigh, ‘Do you have a handheld radio and GPS in your grab bag?’
‘Grab bag?’
Max looked over again. ‘Oh for pity’s sake, these morons deserve to go down.’ She shook her head, ‘God, I didn’t say that. I’ll probably have Davy Jones breathing down my neck now. It’s just …’ She closed her eyes.
‘I know,’ I said, ‘we will get through to him.’
She pushed the button, ‘Jason, do you have a handheld GPS and radio on board.’
‘I think so.’
‘Can you get to them? It’s important to take them with you.’
‘Yes, I can.’
‘Good. Where is your mate? Over.’
‘In the life raft.’
‘How far up is the water? Over.’
‘My ankles.’
She threw down the handset and rolled her eyes, ‘That’s it I’m leaving them.’ And I started laughing; I couldn’t help it, the whole thing was farcical.
I punched another number into the phone. ‘Dad, it’s Mac.’
‘Get him out of the life raft and back onto the boat. Okay?’ I heard Max in the background as I hung up. Dad would find Joe. I had to believe that.
‘What?’
‘The weather is good, stay up on deck and keep your life jackets on. But don’t step back into the life raft until absolutely necessary. Is that clear? Over.’
‘But shouldn’t we?’
‘Just do it!’ she roared into the handset.
The satellite phone blared. Max’s head snapped up from the radio. I hit speaker. ‘I was out of coverage. Is everything all right?’ Max let out a heavy sigh of relief at Joe’s voice.
I kept my voice quiet, ‘Don’t say anything. And when I hang up,
call my Dad and stay on the line. He’ll trace your location.’ I could feel Max’s stare.
‘Okay,’ he drew out the word, ‘still no word on her, Olly?’
‘Good. Back in the military hospital with Lizzie, had you told your team anything about me?’
‘No, that’s right I wouldn’t have.’
‘Are you sure you didn’t mention it to anyone.’
‘Positive.’
‘What about my injuries?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘Michael knew about them. He hit me right on target. Twice.’ Joe said nothing and for a moment I thought we had been cut off. ‘Are you still there?’ I raised my tone back to normal.
‘Thank you, Detective Inspector. I’ll do that straight away. I’ll call you back.’ I heard jostling, ‘Michael? Michael, what the …?’ A smack of fleshy bone on bone sounded through the speakers. More jostling. A thud. A car horn.
Bang!
Max and I jumped as the sound echoed through the phone and reverberated around the cabin.
‘Dad!’ Max screamed.
Tyres screeched; an engine accelerated. There were sounds of moaning and grunting. A roar of exertion.
‘Dad? Dad, answer me. Are you okay?’ Nothing.
Breaks squealed, glass smashed, metal crumpled in a woeful acoustic symphony.
‘Dad!’ Max roared into the phone, but the only response was the hum of a dead line.
We both stared at the phone for a long time. I think we fully expected it to start ringing. It didn’t.
Max hit redial. It rang out until the voicemail kicked in. She didn’t leave a message.
I called my dad. He’d get the details of the car from Cecile and put out an APB, then details of Joe’s SIM card, and track his last known position. I knew the drill.
The radio crackled, ‘Okay, we’re on deck. When will you get here? Over.’ Max didn’t answer. The radio cackled again, ‘Are you there? Are you still there?’ But Max just sat there, not moving, not making a sound, her eyes fixed on the phone.