Sins of the Master

by Catherine Taylor

  A chill went through him. “What the fuck?”

  A movement on the other screen drew his gaze to Lance Easton entering the room and setting a steaming cup down on the coffee table. He sat down on the sofa, as Adele sat up and burst into tears, falling into her father’s arms.

  Her voice came through loudly as she cried. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I told him to get out. I didn’t send that email to him. I told him, Dad. I told him to get out.”

  It was a moving performance and one, Dylan suspected, had some truth to it. Adele’s mother entered the room and took over from her husband, holding Adele as she cried. He could see the distress on all their faces.

  Picking up his phone, he thumbed in a number and waited for Yvette to answer.

  “Yes, Master?”

  “Have you found anything yet?”

  “Very little, but there’s definitely been an increase in the network activity and processes used on Lance Easton’s computer. Two months ago he received high levels of spam, but if there’s malware in the system, it’s hidden well. On tracing the sources, I was surprised to find it highly encrypted, to the degree I’m having difficulty pinpointing its exact origin any closer than the country it came from.”

  Dylan breathed quietly. “What country?”

  “The Russian Federation, Master.”

  He shook his head and glanced at the family on his screen. “Yvette, I want you to tap into the Easton’s security system. I want to be immediately informed if anyone whatsoever enters the grounds.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And contact Carl. Tell him I will need him to cancel all engagements for the next few weeks. I want his whole team to be available to me alone and a watch put on Lance Easton’s house.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Thank you, Yvette.” Dylan hung up and stared at Adele who was sitting listlessly between her parents. He shook his head slowly. “What the fuck have you done?”

  * * * * *

  In her office, Cooper was working on her report when Sam opened her door.

  “You might want to come downstairs to the boss’s office. We’ve officially got the SIS on board.”

  She frowned at him. “You’re joking? There’s hardly been time to follow up on what Easton was talking about. It could be rubbish for all we know.”

  “Something’s happened. You’re not going to believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  Sam puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath. “Two of the forensic team working on Brendan North’s place during the night… well, it seems they didn’t get back to the crime lab this morning. They weren’t answering calls either, so eventually they sent out a patrol to find them, using the GPS. They found them in Porirua, at the back of a factory. Both of them were tied up and gagged. Apparently, two masked gorillas with heavy firearms, confronted them leaving the building. Made them get into the car, and forced them to drive to Porirua.”

  Cooper stared at him. “Who the hell hi-jacks a forensic team? What evidence did they get?”

  “North’s laptop, but not much else.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. We were already aware of the images of Mairead Vaughn, so there obviously had to be something we weren’t aware of, but why didn’t the laptop get taken at the time of the assault?”

  “An afterthought?” Sam suggested. “Someone working with Vaughn, trying to cover his tracks?”

  “Then they’re doing a miserable job of it,” Cooper said. “We have his blood, his fingerprints and his watch at the scene. We have a motive and Vaughn has no alibi, other than he claims to have been drugged. We know there was no call from the security company.” Cooper shook her head as she stood up. “Alright, let’s meet the spooks.”

  They headed downstairs and approached the office of Inspector Tobias Collins, who met them at the door. Well in his fifties, Collins was shorter and rounder, always looking like he was doing manual labour, with his tie hanging loose and his shirt sleeves rolled up. He smiled sourly at Cooper, rolled his eyes and then looked at Sam.

  “Cooper only.”

  She smiled apologetically at her disgruntled partner and followed her boss in. The door was closed behind her and she looked at the man seated at the desk. He stood up but kept a blank gaze on his face. Cooper smiled thinly, observing the stark contrast to Collins. The stranger wore a crisp expensive suit and was tall and lean. There was a shine near his much receded hairline and the long thin nose and dark eyes gave him a stern appearance.

  “Lizzie, this is Bevan Miller,” Collins told her, taking his seat on the other side of the desk. “Director of our Intelligence division.”

  She shook his hand, and he sat down silently. Cooper frowned at Collins. “I heard our forensic boys got mugged.”

  Collins nodded. “It seems this Brendan North business has a lot more to it.”

  “You interviewed Adele Easton this morning,” Miller said. “She made you aware of a certain person named Dylan Tyler. She also requested that we be brought in on the case.”

  “It’s not policy for witnesses to dictate how we run our investigation. I heard what she had to say and was satisfied that we were sufficient to investigate her claims. I’m quite surprised you’re here. Would you like to tell me who told you?”

  “That’s not your concern, Detective. Miss Easton made serious allegations concerning a former Director of Intelligence. Considering Brendan North is your victim, I fail to see how you dismissed our involvement so easily.”

  “Adele was reluctant to hand over her evidence. That makes it hearsay and I understand North’s account of that night was disproved.”

  “Miss Easton has made some serious allegations, and whether they are correct or not, I’ve deemed it necessary to pursue a line of inquiry in conjunction with your own investigation.”

  Cooper frowned. “Which means?”

  “Bevan is going to be overseeing this case,” Collins explained. “Everything will need to be reported to him, and you will also be receiving directives throughout to follow up.”

  “I see,” Cooper grinned.

  “The first of which will be another interview with Vaughn conducted after his court appearance today.”

  “Unless he makes bail,” Cooper reminded him.

  “He won’t,” Miller said, getting up. “I’ll see you at that time. Until then, all information regarding this case is strictly classified, and not to leave this office.”

  Cooper watched him leave, her mouth gaping until she chuckled quietly at Collins. “What a charmer.”

  Collins scowled. “Better take this one seriously, Lizzie. I’ve had phone calls from the Deputy bloody Prime Minister no less.”

  “So this Dylan Tyler and Mary Whittaker thing has got some attention.”

  “It would seem so. You may have one hell of a case on your hands. You up to it?”

  She nodded and smiled. “Political scandals, cyber criminals and some big name players. You bet I’m up for it.”

  * * * * *

  Mairead adjusted the mirror to study her hair, pulled back into a bun. She looked down at the skirt suit she was wearing. “How do I look?”

  “Like a lawyer or something like that,” Vanessa grinned. “If you keep your head down and those glasses on, you should be fine.”

  “One whiff of a story and I’ll have media all over me.” She looked at Vanessa. “You do understand why I need to go in there alone? They know your face as well as mine. Together we would stand out way too much.”

  “Yes, I know, but I want to know everything, the moment you do. Remember, I’ll be going out of my mind, until you contact me.”

  “I’ll ring you the first chance I get.”

  “Good luck.”

  Mairead left the car and hurried up the steps of the Courthouse. Her anxiety was peaking as she went through security and headed towards the corridor, leading to the court rooms. There was a small crowd, the families of defendants easily distinguished from the suited lawyers, clerks and un
iformed personnel.

  Once she had found the right room, she sat in a far corner of the waiting area, away from everyone. She spotted a couple of journalists known to her, but they didn’t give her a second look. Her clothes, her hair and the glasses were doing their job.

  When the security guard opened the court doors, she was up quickly to get inside, making sure she took a seat to the side and near the front, where she could see the dock. It also kept her out of the line of sight of the court reporters already sitting at their desks.

  The people next to her were talking about their own upcoming arraignment. A glance about the public gallery revealed no-one that gave her any concern. In front was the central tables where she could see their lawyer, Ron. Too concerned at being spotted by media, Mairead ignored the temptation to go speak to him. All she could do was wait.

  A bailiff eventually stood up from a table in front of the main bench. Mairead’s heart thumped as he announced the case, the Crown versus James Aaron Vaughn. A door opened at the far side and James entered the dock, handcuffed and accompanied by a uniformed guard.

  She slid the glasses away from her face, barely able to hold back her grief. He was dressed in the suit he had worn that morning and his face was looking strained and hard, searching the public gallery. When his eyes fell upon her, it was all she could do to smile at him, tears threatening to spill over at any moment as he returned the smile.

  “All rise. Her Honour, Margaret Abbott residing.”

  A short older woman in black robes entered and the rendition of courtroom proceedings began, once she was seated. The bailiff read out the charges and the submissions followed, Ron making his case early for name suppression, to which the Prosecutor made no objection. Already the seated journalists were showing their enthusiasm. Mairead could see some of them scanning the public gallery and knew they were looking for her.

  It was as the application for bail was raised that the Prosecutor had much to say. “Your Honour, the Crown is opposing bail due to the violence perpetrated in this assault. Brendan North is critical and in a coma and the prognosis is not looking favourable. Mr. Vaughn is a British citizen…”

  Ron stood up. “My client has surrendered his passport and is recently married to a New Zealand citizen and runs a successful business….”

  “A strip club, which operates in the late hours of the night and morning.”

  “Your Honour, my client has no previous convictions and is a much respected businessman.”

  “And has already been involved in criminal proceedings…”

  “Which had nothing to do with him…”

  “Alright, Counsel,” the judge interjected loudly and looked at Ron. “It would be conducive to know at this point how your client is pleading, Mr. Stewart.”

  “Not guilty, your Honour.”

  “Alright, Mr. Kirby, your objections.”

  “Yes, your Honour. If you will look at the police report you will see that the assault was brutal, and there is a lengthy list of circumstantial evidence which puts Mr. Vaughn at the crime scene and with sufficient motive for the attack.”

  Ron was up again. “Your Honour, the police are also waiting the results of a blood test, which will prove that my client was incapable of the attack, due to having been rendered unconscious by drugs administered by an unknown assailant as he was leaving his club.”

  For the next ten minutes, Mairead felt her nausea returning as the judge silently perused through a pile of folders and papers. One of the journalists took advantage of the pause to stand up and do a more thorough survey of the public gallery. Mairead sank back in her seat and put the glasses back on.

  One of the back doors opened and a suited man and a uniformed officer entered, bowing towards the judge, before going through the gates to the Prosecutor. Mairead felt her head grow light, but fought against it, trying to will James to look back to her. He was staring at the row of journalists across from him and she knew he was keeping his gaze averted, rather than give her away.

  “Your Honour,” the Prosecutor stood up. “May I approach the bench?”

  She frowned at him. “Regarding what?”

  “It’s just come to my attention that other factors have emerged which may have bearing on your decision regarding bail.”

  The judge’s eyes went from the Prosecutor to the men standing beside him. Mairead could see the surprise in her face and her anxiety grew, wanting to know who the men were. She watched as they went forward with Ron and the Prosecutor. For the next several minutes she observed the quiet, intense discussion between them. When they returned to the table, her heart sank to see that Ron had gone pale and was looking concerned.

  Silence loomed over the entire room, with every eye on the judge. She was frowning down at her papers and then looked towards James.

  “At this time,” she began. “Bail is denied and Mr. Vaughn is remanded in custody. Name suppression is granted and no reporting on this case is permitted at this time.”

  There was a discontented murmur among the journalists, but Mairead was staring at the judge in disbelief, before watching the guard lead James away from her. She wanted to jump to her feet and scream at them all that they were all insane. There was a time she might have done just that, but right then she desperately needed somewhere to throw up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  For over an hour, James had sat alone in the interview room. A video camera was set up on a tripod at one end of the table. There was a highly reflective black window on one wall and another camera mounted in the corner. The room was silent, warm and stifling, an atmosphere, designed to make him anxious and prime him for interrogation.

  The worse was not knowing why he had been brought here after his court appearance. This was not the usual procedure for being retained in custody and his requests to have Ron present had been ignored. The sudden appearance of the two men speaking with the judge had been enough to know it had gone way past false accusations of assault and attempted murder.

  The door opened and he showed no reaction as he recognised Detective Cooper and one of the men from the courtroom. Cooper sat down across from him, while the man stood back against the wall. James stared at him, seeing something familiar about him.

  “Mr. Vaughn,” Cooper said. “It’s been a long day. Can I get you something to drink, a coffee maybe?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Your lawyer has been held up, I’m sorry. He should be along soon, but I thought we might go over your statement again. As the day has gone on, you may have remembered more.”

  He stared at her. “I have nothing to add.”

  “We spoke to your wife today,” she smiled.

  James almost grinned, imagining that Mairead wouldn’t have been easy to talk to. It made his heart ache to see her.

  Cooper went on. “How long have you and Mairead known each other?”

  “Several years.”

  “I understand that you were in a security position for Mairead at one stage.” James didn’t answer and Cooper continued. “You would be aware of many people in her social circles.”

  Again, he remained quiet.

  “Mr. Vaughn, do you know a man named Dylan Tyler?”

  James stared at her. “Yes.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He’s a world famous photographer.”

  Cooper smiled. “Yes, we are aware of that. I meant, have you known him in a more familiar climate, in your own social circles.”

  “Yes.”

  She waited for him to elaborate but was met with further silence. “How did you meet Mr. Tyler?”

  “At one of his photographic exhibitions. He presented Mairead with a piece of his work for her birthday.”

  “Did you not think that was an odd gesture? I understand Tyler’s works go for thousands of dollars. To just give one away to a complete stranger… It’s doesn’t seem the normal thing to do.”

  James didn’t reply.

  “Is it possible that Mair
ead knew Tyler before that first encounter?”

  “No.”

  “Well, not to your knowledge.” Cooper looked down at her notes. “Did you see him again after that time at the exhibition?”

  “Yes, from time to time.”

  “So he maintained this interest in Mairead,” Cooper said. “Did that bother you?”

  “No.”

  “So these times that you met with Tyler socially, could you tell me what your interest was in each other, or did this occur more between him and Mairead?”

  “Dylan is an educated man. We talked about topics of mutual interest.”

  “A year back, Mairead was involved with the disappearance of Esther Manning. An hour ago, we interviewed a friend of hers, Melanie Davis, who has given us an account of the events of the day that Esther was found at her grandmother’s house. There are a number of discrepancies from her original testimony during the trial proceedings of Richard and Mark Lewis. She now gives an account of another man who arrived with you. Could you elaborate on that?”

  “No.”

  “So Tyler was with you?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Mr. Vaughn, how well do you think you know Dylan Tyler?”

  “I have nothing further to say without the presence of my lawyer.”

  “Mr. Vaughn, the charges against you could see you spending the next several years in jail, longer if Brendan North dies. We’re still awaiting results of your blood tests, to corroborate your story of being drugged. Have you asked yourself who might have drugged you, or wanted you out of the way? Putting you in prison would certainly do that.”

  No answer was offered.

  “Has it occurred to you that someone has set you up?”

  James smirked. “Yes, it has occurred to me.”

  “Then, it must have also occurred to you that someone very powerful, very skilled and knowledgeable was able to do that? Have you stopped to ask yourself who might have that sort of knowhow?”

  James stared at her silently.