02 Heller's Revenge - Heller

by JD Nixon

“You’re a strong woman, Matilda, but I’m not sure you’re strong enough to handle this,” Heller said gravely.

  I bristled immediately. “You don’t think I can do anything,” I said hotly.

  “Let’s not start that conversation again. Not now,” he insisted wearily.

  “Why not now? Now is the perfect time to have that conversation.”

  “Matilda . . .”

  “Don’t Matilda me, Heller! And you’re right. I don’t want to have that conversation either. Ring Meili and tell him I’ll do it.” He stared at me and I stared back, defiant and stubborn. “Go on! Ring him right now.”

  He stared at me for a long time, searching my face, before taking out his phone.

  Chapter 19

  He took me back to the Warehouse to pack, not saying a word the entire time. We parked in the Warehouse’s basement garage and he turned to me.

  “I don’t want you to do this job, Matilda.” He was serious, very serious, so I paid attention.

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll be sharing his room, for one thing.”

  I froze in the middle of undoing my seatbelt. “What?” My voice was as sharp as a knife.

  “You’ll have to stay with him constantly while you’re on assignment. He’s not one of my rich clients. He doesn’t have a suite. That hotel room is his accommodation. There’s nowhere else for you to sleep.”

  I undid the seatbelt and stepped out of the vehicle, deliberately slow. “You didn’t think to tell me this before I made my decision to do this job? You didn’t think that I might have some legitimate concerns about sharing a bedroom with a man I don’t even know?” I shot daggers at him over the top of the Mercedes, my voice dangerously quiet.

  He was surprised. “I thought you realised that? I thought you didn’t mind.”

  I was beyond angry. “I can’t stay in a room with a man I don’t know! I have a boyfriend! What’s Will going to think about me doing that? I don’t know anything about this man. He could be a rapist or a serial killer, for all we know. Jesus Christ, Heller!” And to my embarrassment, I burst into tears, holding onto the car door, standing in that dreary basement.

  He strode around to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, concern on his face. “Matilda, I didn’t realise . . .”

  I shook off his hands in fury and climbed the stairs to my flat as fast as I could, slamming the door. I paced up and down my lounge room, dashing away my tears. Calm down, I advised myself, so I calmed down. Take a deep breath, I advised myself, so I took a deep breath. Sit down and think about it, so I did that as well.

  Meili didn’t look like a rapist – he was a famous person, and they don’t usually get away with that kind of thing, or not for too long anyway, not in this day and age. And I would take a weapon with me and keep it on me, especially at night. I would make sure that Heller rang me constantly and also gave Meili fair warning about what would happen to him if anything happened to me. I would stop swooning over him and only present a professional face to him, so that Meili had no questions about my feelings. And as for the Will problem, I decided that I’d deal with that by simply not telling him.

  It would be an awkward and difficult assignment, but I was too stubborn to back down now, especially as we’d already told Meili that I’d do it.

  I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight that looked back – I was puffy-faced and red-eyed. I splashed water on my face and adjusted my makeup. There was a hesitant knock on my door. I opened it to find Heller at my threshold.

  “It’s okay, I’ve calmed down,” I told him. “It’s not your fault that I’m too stupid to put one and one together.”

  “I didn’t mean to surprise you, Matilda. I’m sorry that I didn’t realise you hadn’t understood the arrangement. For what it’s worth, I’ve already made it quite clear to Dr Eriksen about how much I value your safety. I don’t think he’ll forget what I’ve said in a hurry.” I remembered the heated discussion they’d had in that foreign language.

  “You’re asking a lot of me this time, Heller. I hope you know that,” I said, gazing up at him steadily.

  “I know, my sweet.”

  I went into my bedroom and packed quickly while he waited. I popped into the office on our way downstairs to give Niq and Daniel a quick kiss and hug goodbye, much to their dismay, before we continued on down to the basement back into his Mercedes. It was a silent trip back to the hotel.

  Meili greeted us very warmly again and welcomed us back into his room. I placed my bag next to the unused bed and thought again about how uncomfortable it was going to be to spend a number of nights in this room with a stranger. Meili didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest by my presence though. I guess he was used to community living, spending a large part of his life onboard various vessels, running interference with Japanese whaling ships in the Pacific Ocean or large commercial fishing trawlers and oil tankers in the North Sea. He probably hadn’t even blinked at the thought of being alone with me.

  Without any hesitation, Heller launched directly into what sounded to me like a lecture in that other language. Meili listened politely, nodding when appropriate, interjecting once or twice apparently to clarify, casting his eyes in my direction every now and then. I think Heller was giving him a list of dos and don’ts, and the tone of his voice suggested that Meili would face an earlier, slower and much more painful death than he was expecting, if he failed to strictly comply. Meili’s face was serious and there was no doubt that he was paying close attention to what Heller was saying, but I’m positive I could detect the faint humorous twitch of his mouth on occasion.

  Heller eventually finished and stood, legs aggressively apart, regarding Meili frostily, before adding a postscript, looking over at me.

  “Oh, I think that would be obvious to anyone,” said Meili, smiling.

  It was frustrating not to know what had been said. How would I know if Meili was following the ground rules if I didn’t even know what they were? I decided then that I would make sure he followed my rules, if Heller wasn’t going to bother telling me what his were.

  Heller made moves to leave, shaking Meili’s hand again, shooting him another hard look. He glanced at me, inclined his head towards the door and grunted, which I gathered was some kind of ancient caveman language for “could you please accompany me to the door for a few private words before we part, my dearest Matilda?”

  He pulled me out into the corridor. “I’ve laid down the law with him. He’s an honourable man, I’m sure. I’ve researched him thoroughly, including police records and some other more secret records. I’m confident there will be no problems with him, Matilda. I wouldn’t let you stay alone with him for a second if I thought there was any chance of trouble in that way. Do you trust me to do the best for you?”

  I searched his eyes, uncertain, before nodding. “Yes.”

  His smile was fleeting as he pulled me close to him in a crushing hug that threatened to re-crack the ribs that had only barely healed.

  “Heller, I can’t breathe,” I managed to squeak.

  “I don’t want you to be away from me, not even for a moment, my sweet. Not after everything,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Too late for that. Here I am.” And I didn’t mean to sound tart, but I did. He released me, looking down grimly.

  “Ring me eight times a day. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be here with a team of men in minutes. With guns. Do you understand? I’m not kidding.”

  “Not eight,” I complained. “I’ll be on the phone to you all day if I have to do that. I won’t have time to do anything else. Four times a day.”

  “Six.”

  “Four! You said there was no problem with Meili.”

  “It’s not him I’m worried about, Matilda. He could be assassinated.”

  “You told me there’s not much chance of that.”

  “There isn’t. Forget I said that.”

  “Well I can’t, can I? You said it and I heard it. Are y
ou seriously worried?”

  He only hesitated for a few seconds. “No.” He placed one palm gently against my cheek and leaned down to give me a kiss. “Goodbye for now, my sweet.”

  “Bye Heller.” I watched him walk to the lift.

  After pressing the button, he turned back to me. “Make sure you ring me, Matilda. I mean it.”

  I nodded impatiently and re-entered the room to find Meili sprawled on his bed watching TV. It was the midday news and he was fully occupied taking in the day’s quota of local murders, bashings, rapes, car crashes, arson, political machinations, celebrity gossip and sporting achievements. He smiled at me as I rejoined him. I flopped onto my bed and watched as well.

  “I love this country. Your news is so provincial. There’s almost nothing about the rest of the world in it. The only international news I saw was a story about Lindsay Lohan.” He smiled again. “I don’t even know what a Lindsay Lohan is.”

  I laughed. “It’s not that bad,” I replied, compelled to defend my nation’s journalists, although I secretly agreed with him. Our news was truly dreadful.

  He sat up suddenly and turned off the TV. “Let’s go for a walk. I’m bored here. And I had a long flight. I need to stretch my legs.” He bent over to slip on his running shoes.

  “Okay,” I agreed, and we headed out to spend the next few hours strolling around the botanical gardens, the harbour and the city centre. He was an amusing and intelligent companion. I enjoyed his company and only hoped I compared favourably.

  “I hate being cooped up,” he confided as we walked, and I knew this assignment was going to be a completely different experience to the one with Clarrie. He had five phone calls while we walked, shrugging apologetically at each interruption to our conversation, chatting vivaciously to his callers, sometimes in another language, laughing frequently.

  Why would someone so alive be so resigned to dying? I wondered and that dark thought clouded my mind for some time.

  He shouted me lunch at a cafe in the city, where most of the women in the near vicinity checked him out and awarded him a giant tick of approval. But he didn’t seem to notice, paying polite attention to my inane chatter instead and bathing me in the warmth of his lovely eyes. I was struggling to maintain my professional demeanour with him, he was so charming and interesting.

  Back in the hotel room, he asked if I minded if he caught up on his emails. I urged him not to think about me, but to do what he needed. And while he set up his laptop at the wall bench, I rummaged around in my bag for the thriller I’d packed, learning from my experience with Clarrie. I propped myself up on my bed and read, while he tapped busily on his keyboard for an hour or so.

  Finished, he shut down his computer and twisted in his seat to face me. “I hope you packed a nice dress or two?”

  “I did,” I assured him.

  “Good. Because I want to take you out to dinner.” I demurred because he had taken me to lunch, but he insisted.

  “Thanks Meili, that would be nice,” I agreed, giving in. I bundled my clothes into the bathroom with me, where I had a quick shower, applied my makeup in record time and did the best I could with my hair. I wore a close-fitting, long-sleeved burgundy knit dress with a V-neck and a slight flair in the skirt that I teamed with matching high-heeled sandals. When I exited the bathroom, he smiled.

  “You look lovely, Tilly,” he said as he entered after me, but there was no lust or special meaning or anything sinister in what he said or the way he said it. It was a simple compliment and I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him nicely. While he was in the shower I rang Heller and convinced him that I was still alive and unsullied. I told him our plans for the evening and promised to ring him before I went to sleep.

  Meili came out of the bathroom dressed in a dark gray suit with a light gray shirt that matched his eyes, his longish hair tied back in a ponytail. He looked simply wonderful. That was the only word for him. I had to force my eyes from devouring him, sharply reminding myself, once again, that I had a boyfriend.

  He took me to a chic tapas restaurant where we shared a number of small dishes. Our tastes weren’t completely compatible, but we were both willing to try dishes that the other wanted to order, and in the end we ended up enjoying each other’s choices.

  “Where are you from, Meili?” I asked as I nibbled on a spicy king prawn (his choice), almost expecting him to fob me off the way Heller always did.

  “Norway,” he answered readily. “I’m from Oslo.”

  “Were you and Heller speaking Norwegian today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Um, this might sound a little strange, but did he seem to you to be a native Norwegian speaker? Do you think he’s Norwegian?” He raised his eyebrows at me, so I felt I had to give him a little more. “Heller’s a bit mysterious about his origin and I’m trying to find out where he’s from.”

  He considered for a moment. “Hard to say, Tilly. His accent is so neutral that I think he’s had a lot of practice in shading it. I usually find that’s the case with people who’ve been trained by the government to do . . .” He glanced at me. “To do certain extra-curricula projects.” He smiled disarmingly. “I’ve run into one or two of them in my time and it’s never a pleasant experience.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I asked.

  He avoided my question. “To me, Heller only has the slight accent he’s picked up living here. But that doesn’t mean anything. All the Scandinavian languages are fairly similar and it’s not difficult to learn the others. But I couldn’t say for certain that he was Norwegian.” He shrugged apologetically. “He’s not from Oslo in any case though. I’d know that straight away. He didn’t use any typical Oslo slang when we spoke.”

  Damn! I was really hoping he could tell. “Could he be German or any other nationality?”

  “I don’t think so,” he hesitated. “Because in that case he’d have an accent that would be difficult to conceal when he spoke Norwegian. But sorry, I just can’t tell you for certain that he’s Norwegian. Does it matter?”

  “Only to me,” I said, and smiled at him. “I’m very nosy.”

  He gave a bark of laughter. “He’s an interesting person. I’ve never met someone so eerily beautiful before. He’s almost supernatural.”

  “I agree heartily with that sentiment,” I smiled, and dished some more garlic and chilli chickpeas onto both our plates. My choice.

  He continued to muse. “He’s a very intense man with some very intense feelings towards you.”

  “He’s just over-protective at the moment,” I dismissed, telling him briefly about my car accident.

  He sympathised. “And you crashed because you were shot at? Your life sounds as dangerous as mine.”

  “Well,” I considered, “since I’ve worked at Heller’s I’ve been shot at, stabbed, beaten up, kidnapped, and almost raped twice.”

  “Good God! No wonder he’s so protective! This assignment should be an easy one for you then.”

  “It’s not the physical trauma I’m worried about with this job, it’s the emotional trauma,” I said honestly, looking directly into his eyes. He grasped my hand and squeezed it before letting go, but didn’t say anything. I decided to change the subject to lighten the mood. “Now, I’m certainly no expert on Scandinavian etymology, but surely Meili is an unusual name in your parts? I would have expected a Lars or Erik or Sven.”

  He chuckled. “On the contrary, Tilly, Meili is an ancient Norse name. My father is obsessed with Norse mythology. In fact, he’s a professor of that very subject at the University of Oslo. His first name is Odin, which may have influenced his career path. I’m not sure if you know, but Odin is the chief god in Norse mythology. I don’t know what my grandparents were thinking calling him that – it’s like calling your kid Zeus or Buddha or God. Not really the right thing to do, but my grandparents were early hippies, and what can you say about them?” He smiled. “Anyway, Odin the god had many sons and my father, Odin the professor, has three sons, so gues
s who we were all named after?”

  I laughed. “Poor you.”

  “My oldest brother was given the name of Thor, which is actually a reasonably popular name in Norway. My second brother is called Baldur, much less popular. And I received the name of one of the more obscure sons, Meili. Not popular at all. I’ve spent my life explaining it to people and spelling it for them. It means ‘the lovely one’, which isn’t very masculine, is it?” He laughed.

  I laughed too, but I secretly thought that the name suited him. He was lovely, in every way. “And I thought I was hard done by because I was given my great-grandmother’s name, Matilda. I hate it.”

  “But Heller calls you that.”

  “Yes, he insists.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows? Heller is a man of many mysteries.” We shared a lemon pepper squid dish. His choice. “What’s your PhD in? Or are you a medical doctor?”

  “PhD. It’s in chemistry, if you can believe it.” He threw his head back for a moment and I caught an enchanting glimpse of the brown expanse of his neck. “My first job was with an international petrochemical company making plastics in India. When I realised how they were disposing of their waste material in the local water supply, and getting away with it by bribing local officials, I was inflamed with fury. It was a revelation to me, a real eye-opener. I’d been a naive young chemist truly believing in my company’s pretty words about caring for the environment and the local people.”

  His eyes darkened with passion as he spoke and for the first time, I glimpsed the hard and determined activist spirit that drove him to risk his life. “They didn’t care about the precious eco-system that supported those people – some of the poorest people on the planet. Those people depended on that water for their livelihoods, for their lives. But all that company cared about was its profits. So I agitated my bosses and harangued the board of directors until they grew sick of me and started bringing in security to eject me the minute I turned up to meetings.” He laughed, but there was no humour in his voice. “They ended up firing me, of course. Then I started publicly campaigning against the company. Like-minded people joined me. We organised, we lobbied, we wrote to newspapers, gave hundreds of interviews to anyone who would listen to us and report about us. We created blogs and forums and podcasts. And you know what?”