Capture

by Flora Dain

  ‘Yes.’ It means everything … I stare at him, horrified.

  He holds my gaze, merciless now. ‘He knows how I set up my systems. He worked out the rest. Then he could come and go here like he was you.’

  Around us the room is silent. Am I dreaming? This even feels unreal … but the steel in his look is real enough.

  ‘The camera never lies, Ella.’

  ‘And it never explains. Let me talk to you in private.’ I sound husky.

  No one moves. He glances at his watch. ‘Three minutes.’

  ‘Three minutes? That’s not enough –’ I break off. What am I saying? It would take a century.

  ‘Everything you want to say you can say right here in front of the men. You owe them an apology. Me too, for doubting them. Sure you can explain. You always can. Not this time. You can see how it looks.’

  I stare at him wildly. ‘Yes, I can see how it looks. But that’s not how it was.’ This can’t be happening.

  ‘It’s enough for me.’ He shakes his head slowly. ‘I can’t take any more of this, not from you.’ His face contracts. Why’s he doing this?

  ‘Too many people know about this. They depend on me. I’ve got too much at risk. I can’t go on, never knowing if I can trust you –’ His voice catches. Then his jaw stiffens. ‘We’re finished, Ella.’

  For a full minute I stare at him. ‘What? Wait, you have to let me –’

  ‘Two minutes.’

  I take a deep breath and try to speak. But where to start? I try again. Nothing happens. Please God, not now …

  Tears sting at the unfairness of it. I was only trying to help somebody …

  Mercifully the tears stay put but now words do come. ‘Ryan said he wanted to go straight. He had a product to launch and needed to know if you were using it.’ My throat tightens. Angrily I push on. ‘He said all he needed was a glimpse of some code to check his was different. He said not to tell in case you launched it first. He offered me those photos of Lydia in exchange. Unless I helped him he’d have to publish them. He needed the money.’

  ‘And you believed him?’

  I catch my breath. ‘Yes. I believed him.’

  ‘And the photos? That would be these?’ He holds up a slim contact strip taken from old-fashioned black-and-white film.

  I stare. I can just make out a tiny image of a woman posing. Lydia. But the shots are all the same.

  ‘These are the photos,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s the shot he used back in the summer when he released those shots of us. But there’s just the one.’

  ‘You mean – you had them all along?’

  His eyes blaze. ‘No, Ella. You had them all along. They were on your floor just now, underneath your clothes. How long have you had these?’

  I clap my hand to my mouth. ‘But – that’s not possible,’ I whisper. ‘I’ve never – I haven’t –’

  Darnley’s still talking, his voice low, his men standing all around us, silent and watchful. I’m too stunned to listen. When I tune back in it’s too late, it’s said.

  ‘… so now I’ve heard enough. Bullen?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Escort Miss Dean to the boundary of my land and leave her there. Have her personal belongings transferred to a hotel and ensure she doesn’t set foot anywhere on my property again for the next two years. Got that?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Since the day we met I’ve dreaded a moment like this. Dating rich men comes with massive benefits – and one or two terrifying drawbacks. One of them is the instant split. Money shortens the ties.

  Where I come from, people have to talk things over, work things out. But money makes it easy. The rich ditch fiancées not with roses, or a hot new date – they simply kick them out.

  And now at last my mind clears.

  It’s not the worst thing that could ever happen to me, but it’s close. It’s not even my fault, but there’s nothing I can do now.

  If a coward dies a thousand deaths, then I’m a coward in love. If I dreamed up a thousand ways he’d dump me, I’d never hit on this one. My ex has finally got his revenge. He’s split up Darnley and me with the cruellest of weapons.

  The code he wanted was for the tenth of August – the date we met.

  I know how it looks. I even sense it’s a hard choice. But I’ve lost the race to win him – lost it not to a woman, or even to an idea, but to technology. He trusts his systems over me. But systems, however clever, never paint the whole picture. Systems are rational and I’m not.

  If he can’t see that then we’ve no future together.

  Stay calm, I think. You’ve only a few seconds left. After that I’ll never see him again.

  ‘Do I keep the car? And my boat?’

  If he’s surprised, he shows no sign. He simply nods.

  ‘What about my job, my work at the complex?’

  ‘You’re not officially on the payroll.’

  ‘I gave up my job in Boston to come here.’

  ‘You’re on sabbatical. It’ll still be open.’

  ‘But – I’ve got no money.’

  His eyes glitter. ‘So sue me.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ I say bitterly. ‘With your family the best lawyers in the country? I don’t think so.’

  His eyes give an impatient flicker. ‘There’s enough money in your account to see you home.’

  So this is it. We’re finished.

  Stunned, I see something else. This is about more than just us. People depend on him. Date a rich guy, you date an empire. Now the empire struck back.

  He still loves me, but he’s got no choice.

  ‘Then – you’d better have this.’ Slowly I draw his ring off my finger and set it down on the bench. ‘Maybe one day you’ll find someone it fits.’ I raise my eyes to his for one last time. ‘I told you once that this would never work,’ I say quietly. ‘Your security systems are only as good as your weakest link. And that would always be me. Because I trust people and you don’t. It’s that simple.’

  And now I do the hardest thing of all. I turn around and walk away.

  And I don’t look back.

  Cliff-Face is standing guard at the door. As I reach him I pause. ‘Bullen?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am?’

  ‘I’m ready to go now.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Out in the fresh air I look round and breathe deep, still in a daze.

  My brain tells me I’m free now. My life stretches before me. I can do anything I like, anything at all, except the one thing I want to do more than anything else – run back inside and throw myself into his arms.

  But my heart knows that’s impossible. That footage tells its own story, far more convincing than mine. Compared to those powerful images my version sounds feeble, the hasty lies of a guilty woman caught in the act.

  Nothing I can say will change his mind. He believes in his systems. If he thinks I’m a spy he’s got all the proof he needs.

  The sun just lost its warmth, the sea air all its fizz.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  Bullen’s standing quietly by my side, awaiting my final instructions. He’s long been a familiar face. Now his orders are to escort me off-site. Once I’m there he’ll blend back into Darnley’s luxury world, the shadowlands that hide the rich.

  I want to cry. Later. Right now I’ve got things to do.

  With a snap I go on autopilot. ‘Bullen? I have to get my things.’

  ‘They’re all packed, ma’am. Your damaged gowns will be repaired and sent on. I’ve orders to take you to a hotel in San Francisco.’

  My stuff’s already packed? Then Darnley had already made up his mind …

  ‘Stow them in my car. I take it Bodega Bay is beyond Mr Wolfe’s boundary?’

  Bullen nods.

  ‘And the beaches along this coast are public land? So technically Mr Wolfe’s boundary ends just down there on the shingle?’

  He nods again.

  ‘Then if it’s all right with you, Bullen, take the car dow
n to Bodega Bay and park it near the beach. I’ll take the boat.’

  ‘Goodbye then, Miss Dean. We’re sorry to see you go.’

  For him, rare emotion. I feel tears prickle once more as I shake his hand. ‘Thank you, Bullen. Me too. You’ve all been terrific.’

  * * *

  I head for open water and watch Darnley’s beach house fade with distance and blend into the low cliff, the sunlight glinting off its windows the only hint of the glories I’m leaving behind.

  My luggage is stowed in my gleaming little convertible. I see it set off towards the highway, a companion car following behind. And now I see something else – a gleaming helicopter rises from the headland and veers south.

  So he’s gone too.

  But it’s no time for tears. I want to see clearly, remember everything.

  I’ve got a lifetime to cry.

  I breathe deep, lean into the wind and focus on the splash of the waves and the murky landscape lurking below the glass panel. As the breeze lifts my hair I do my best to capture all I can of this beautiful coast.

  It almost works. We’re nearly into March now. The sun is warm, even if the wind and the water are cold. I catch the glossy heads of seals, glimpse tight clusters of anemones and graceful fronds of kelp, far below the surface. Sunlight sparkles all around me.

  Touch me. Hold me. Keep very still, while I feel you. I want to kiss you, dammit. Mm, you taste so good, like peaches. Now me …

  The memory hits me like a wall. I’ve heard shock does weird things. I hold my breath as the image floods in – our bodies united in rapture, our legs entwined, our tongues eager, exploring, pushing us into new sensations, new pleasures. I can hear his voice, almost smell the dark feral scent of his skin …

  I lean over the side of the boat and gasp for air. I swallow a few times but the image lingers. I try to blot it out by staring hard into the sparkling, sunlit wavelets until my vision blurs and purple stars float on my retinas when I blink.

  This can’t last, I tell myself. Enjoy your boat. You don’t know when you’ll see it again.

  Every so often I glance up at the shoreline, cutting the engine so I can drift, letting the wind and the current carry me south. Bodega’s further than I’ve travelled before. I’d better save fuel.

  I stay close to the shore, catching every detail of sea birds, flashing wavelets. A patch of small discs floats past, pale and mysterious – small jellyfish.

  Every so often I glance up and catch the gleam of a vehicle on the distant highway – sometimes a truck, sometimes a car, but more often than not a motorcycle. After a while I realise I’m seeing the same one.

  It’s tracking me.

  It seems to keep pace with me, pausing when I pause, speeding up when I do.

  I frown and snatch up the binoculars. A wisp of sandy hair flutters under the rider’s helmet. Syra?

  Maybe she wants to say goodbye and tell me how Chet’s doing.

  With a sigh I look out for the nearest cove. Company’s the last thing I want right now, but I’ve made some friends here. I can’t take them with me, but I can’t afford to waste one.

  On an impulse I wave. The rider waves back and now I’m committed. It means I’ll break my journey, but does it matter? I’m going nowhere, and I’ve got all the time in the world to get there.

  I fire up the engine and head for shore.

  I pull into a sheltered little cove, where the beach shelves steeply up to a flat headland covered with scrub. There’s no one in sight, no traffic noise. I guess the highway’s too far away to hear from here.

  Also there’s no sign of the motorcycle. But all at once I see the rider, striding down the beach to meet me, a slim figure in leathers, helmet and goggles, the stride purposeful.

  Weird the way all bikers look alike. As the figure draws close and lifts off the heavy helmet I stiffen – and then I freeze.

  It’s Ryan. And he’s got a gun.

  ‘Hi, El. We meet again. Guess what? I just got here. Flew in overnight. You got the photos? Neat, huh? Made the drop while you were all out looking for Newson. Kept my side of the deal. And after today you’ll never see me again. I’ll keep that side too.’

  He runs his finger along the barrel of his gun. It looks heavy and powerful, like something in the movies.

  ‘I was waiting for you up on the highway. Thought once you took out your car again maybe I’d catch you up for a little talk, somewhere out of reach of lover-boy’s cameras. When I saw his driver take it I thought I was screwed. But you took the boat. Even better.’

  He lifts the gun and smiles. Fear prickles all along my spine.

  I lick my lips. ‘Darnley knows about the break-ins. And he knows it was you. Why did you do it, Ryan? What were you thinking? That whole thing about going straight was just to get me into trouble? I trusted you. I thought you wanted help.’

  ‘You in trouble over this, El? That’s too bad. And it seems to me I’m a whole lot straighter than you and your kinky boyfriend, from what I heard.’

  He takes a step closer. ‘What was I thinking? Let me see. I was thinking maybe you both needed a lesson.’ His eyes gleam. ‘And I was thinking maybe I needed help, what with lover-boy being so fucking clever, so you could help me out. And know what? You did, hon. In spades.’ He laughs out loud.

  He sounds crazy but his eyes stay watchful. The effect is chilling.

  ‘I’m proud of you, El. The perfect accomplice.’

  He looks along the barrel to the horizon and then points it straight at me.

  I steel myself not to flinch. Keep him talking. ‘I still don’t get it, Ryan. Why?’

  ‘Let’s just say I wanted to make a point. And boy, did I make it good. Come on, hon. Admit it.’

  My mind races. Small pieces of jigsaw click into place. ‘So the paint on the wall the day we arrived? That was you?’

  ‘Nope. That was Newson. Pretty dumb kid but he’s good with paint. I gave him the words on a card. He just did it bigger. Had his uses, too. Brought me pizzas and beer, jumped to it when I called. Know what? That’s kind of helpful when you’re holed up in a cave, knowing your ex and her new guy are living the high life. Good mechanic, young Newson. Had trouble avoiding his sister but I managed that, too. Pretty cool, huh?’

  ‘So who was it scratched the car when I was driving? Drew that thing on my windscreen? Was that him too?’

  ‘Nope, that was me. I let him take the rap for that. The fancy indoor stuff had to wait till I got your code. Using that I could do pretty much what I liked. Scared you, huh?’

  ‘He’s a nice kid, Ryan. How did you make him do it?’

  ‘Funny, that. I scare him, I guess.’ He examines his fingernails. ‘He thinks I’ve got special powers.’ He jolts forward and snarls in my face with his teeth bared. For a split second he looks truly crazy.

  My nerves strained to breaking point, I jump back and then start to shiver, furious with myself.

  ‘Whoa, hon, you’ve gone white. I scare you too? Result. That was my big, bad troll face. Scary or what?’

  Nausea creeps up again but I fight it down. ‘So you were the troll?’

  ‘Yep. And know how I did it? I’ll let you into a secret. That cave’s got a tunnel. I’m the only one who knows where it is. So all I had to do to stage some little stunt – like, say, drawing a picture or mussing a dress – was hop out of the cave, let myself in while you were having fun and then hop right back again. And while I was away in hotter climes I could call on young Newson to do it for me. Cool or what?’

  So that was why the cave gave me the creeps. I think of Darnley, stroking seaweed over my face, tormenting me with his touch …

  I swallow. ‘And that sex pest? Was that you too?’

  For a split second Ryan looks blank. ‘What, that stuff on the news? Not me, hon. Maybe your loony-tune boyfriend finally flipped. Come to think of it, I heard the police picked him up.’ He grins. ‘They thought he was The Biker? Actually, that’s kind of funny.’

  I glare
at him. ‘You’re not a kid any more, Ryan. You went to all this trouble just to make a point? Why? To prove you’re clever?’

  His eyes flash. ‘Clever? No way. Beating Darnley-fucking-lover-boy-Wolfe in his own house, through his own surveillance system, under the noses of his own highly trained personnel, with the help of his own fiancée? That’s not clever, babe, that’s fucking genius. Now he knows I’m really somebody, not some shitty bit of trash he can fire any time he feels like it.’ He lifts the gun again.

  I shudder. ‘So what happens when he catches up with you?’

  ‘He won’t. And with his history, maybe accusing me of break-ins won’t play so good in court. The jury may even think he painted me into his security footage just to get even. Anyway, it’s his word against mine.’

  ‘And mine.’

  ‘Yours?’ He shrugs. ‘Yours won’t count for a whole lot, El, because you won’t be around to give it. Know what? You’re getting right back in your fancy little boat and you’re going back out to sea.’ He jerks his head towards my boat. ‘I made my point so I could piss him off. And I made it good. But I’m not done yet. To seriously piss him off I have to go one better. Eliminate you.’

  ‘What?’ I shake my head. ‘Now it’s you being funny. We split up. You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ He bares his teeth in an open sneer. ‘From what I heard from Freda, that’s pretty unlikely. She knows all about lover-boy Darnley. Nice try, El, but we’ll stick with Plan A. Boats go missing all the time along this coast. Who knows? Maybe today yours will be one of them.’ His face contracts. ‘Get in.’

  It’s my only chance. I leap in. Balance. Push off with my foot to get a start. Fire the engine, desperate to get clear of the shallows.

  The first gunshot sounds like a cannon. I jump about a mile. Somewhere to my left I hear a violent slash through the water I move across. He’s fired wide.

  Now I’m no longer afraid. All I can think of is survival.

  I crouch near the controls, keeping my head low. I reach up to try to steer. At the same time I haul at the throttle. The boat leaps forward, starting to plane as my weight and its sudden blast of speed raise the prow. Now it’s arching upwards, scoring a double trail of pale-green surf in the water behind.