A Twist of Fate

by Joanna Rees

  The scorn in his voice made panic swell inside her. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you. Any of you. Ever,’ she said.

  Roberto didn’t seem to hear. ‘You knew. You knew those people who killed Alfonso. You knew them and let them into my home and let them destroy all my art and all my wine, and then kill my son, and you never said.’

  It was an accusation and a judgement all rolled into one. She understood then, with fear in her heart, that he did not forgive her at all and that he was only just controlling his fury.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘How could you have lied so to the police? And how could you have lied to us all, Romy? After everything we’ve done for you.’

  ‘I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. I told Alfonso everything. He knew before he died. He forgave me,’ she said.

  ‘He forgave you?’ Roberto said incredulously. ‘I don’t believe you. I don’t believe anything you say.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Romy pleaded.

  ‘No. What’s true is that Scolari is gone. I have lost control of everything my family ever worked for.’ Without warning he thumped his fist onto his chest. A rage of blood rushed to his face. ‘And I have lost my only son, because of you.’

  ‘The company,’ she said weakly. She could no longer look him in the eyes. ‘I’ll find a way. I’ll get it back . . . ’ She could never make up for losing Alfonso, but she could at least attempt this.

  ‘No,’ he snapped. ‘Even if I wanted to regain control of Scolari, our family name, our good reputation has gone now. You’ve made people believe that everything we’ve done is all based on corruption and lies. And you’ve made me look like a fool.’

  ‘No . . . no,’ Romy cried. ‘Roberto, you have to listen to me—’

  He stood, leaning furiously over his desk. ‘Now you will do as I say. You will leave this house right now and never, ever come back.’

  Romy stared into his eyes and saw then what she’d always known. Roberto was black and white. You were either in or out, and now there was no way of appealing to the man she’d grown to love like her own father. His eyes were cold.

  She forced herself to stop her chin trembling. ‘If that’s what you really want, I will get Alfie.’

  ‘I don’t think you understood me. You should leave. Now.’

  And that’s when she realized the true meaning of what he was saying.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘No. Alfie is mine.’

  ‘And what happens when the police come for you? These claims of murder . . .’

  He was right. They would be coming. She’d been so busy thinking about Roberto and the company that she’d forgotten to think of herself. She had to get away. She had to get herself and Alfie out of here now.

  ‘Where is he?’ she demanded. ‘Is he upstairs?’

  ‘No. He’s my grandson. My heir. I will do whatever I have to do to protect him.’

  Protect him? The force of the words hit her like a hammer blow. He meant from her.

  She ran out into the corridor and up the ancient stone steps to Alfie’s room. But as she threw open the door, she saw it was empty. His helium balloon-car hung limply in the air, buckled and crumpled, as if it had crashed. Their bags were gone.

  She heard a footstep behind her. She spun round, hoping to see her son.

  But it was Roberto who was standing there.

  ‘What have you done? Tell me where he is?’ she cried, shaking with rage now, seeing him for what he had become – an enemy, not a friend – someone who wanted to take away her son.

  ‘He’s where you will never find him,’ he said.

  In the distance, she heard sirens.

  ‘It’s time you faced up to who you really are,’ Roberto said.

  The sirens were getting louder.

  ‘My God.’ She stared at Roberto. ‘You’ve called them already, haven’t you? You’ve just called the police.’

  Romy wrapped the long arms of the sweatshirt around her as she walked through to where Lars was standing with a steaming mug in his hands, gazing out of the kitchen window at the first glow of sunlight spreading out across the city’s roofs and spires.

  ‘Was it the same nightmare as before?’ he asked.

  Romy nodded, feeling the tears that were always so close these days rising to the surface again.

  ‘I deserve it. I’m a bad person. I’ve lied to everyone.’

  ‘You haven’t lied to me. Well, not during your latest visit to Amsterdam anyway,’ he smiled.

  Romy still couldn’t believe that he’d forgiven her. Not just for how she’d deceived him while she’d been living in this building, but for all the terrible baggage she’d brought to his door.

  ‘It’s all such a mess.’

  ‘Trust me,’ he said, putting his mug down. ‘It’ll all turn out OK.’

  He smiled gently and punched her playfully, reassuringly, on the shoulder. But Romy let out a sob. Because as much as he wanted to be kind, he couldn’t protect her. She wasn’t safe. She would never be safe. The police would find her sooner or later. And if they didn’t believe her about what had happened with Fox – if she was convicted – then she doubted she’d ever see Alfie again.

  ‘I just want my son back,’ she said.

  She felt a fat tear rolling down her cheek. If only she could talk to Alfie. Just once. Just to hear his voice. But he, like everyone else, probably hated her by now. The mood Roberto was in, he’d probably have told Alfie everything. About how she’d known his father’s killers. She imagined Roberto telling him his mother was a liar. She pictured Alfie’s confused face as Roberto shattered his innocence. How would her poor baby react?

  Lars hugged her. ‘We’ll find a way to get through this,’ he said.

  She pressed her cheek against his T-shirt, sinking gratefully into his hug. She should never have left Amsterdam, she thought. She should never have gone back to Italy. Lars was the only person left in the world who hadn’t judged her. Who hadn’t demanded anything from her.

  She could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat and, suddenly, she was aware of his hard, lean body against hers. She felt his hands on her waist and, out of nowhere, she felt desire rushing through her. She stared up at him, into his soft grey eyes. And there was a moment when she felt as if he were looking right inside her soul. Before she could stop herself, she kissed him. She heard him moan as he kissed her back. But just as suddenly as they’d started, Lars stopped. He pulled away.

  ‘No, Romy, I can’t. I won’t,’ he said, as if he’d just come to his senses.

  Romy closed her eyes. She tried to recover her breath. If Lars hadn’t stopped, then she knew she wouldn’t have been able to, either. What had she been thinking? She was stunned that she’d acted on such an impulse. She hadn’t kissed anyone since Alfonso. And Gretchen was here . . .

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be. I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell you how much I want to do this. But you’re vulnerable and you’re exhausted. I’m not going to take advantage of you.’

  ‘Oh God, I’m so embarrassed,’ she said, putting her hand on her head.

  Lars looked embarrassed too. Gone was the confident information security guy. He now looked as awkward and bashful as a teenage boy, which if anything drew her to him even more. He smiled.

  ‘Hey, you’re only human,’ he said, stretching his hands out wide, and Romy laughed.

  ‘That’s better. It’s good to see you smile,’ he told her, adjusting his glasses squarely onto his face, suddenly all business again. ‘Now, let’s get some more caffeine inside us and work out how we’re going to get Alfie back.’

  After he’d fixed them a coffee, Lars pulled Romy’s duvet from the sofa bed and they went out together onto his small balcony. They sat on the cast-iron bench out there and shared a cigarette, even though, as Romy admitted, she hadn’t smoked since she was a kid.

  ‘Since we seem to be breaking all kinds of laws together, then we might as well have a little fun while we’re about
it,’ he joked, as she sat huddled against him, watching the cold dawn light creep over the rooftops and spires.

  The last few days Lars had pulled up all the newspaper articles he’d been able to find about Schwedt, cross-checking them against Romy’s real name. Sure enough, he’d found the original details of the fire and Fox’s death, and the fact that Romy had been listed as a suspect in both the arson and the murder – something that four other orphans (the three boys Pieter, Monk and Heinrich) had confirmed she’d been guilty of, as well as Claudia Baumann.

  So Claudia had given Romy’s name up to the police. No doubt to save her own skin. In spite of what Claudia had done to her since, Romy did not blame the little girl she’d once been. Claudia would have had no other choice. Just as she hadn’t had a choice to do anything other than accept Ulrich’s protection. And the consequences that Romy knew must have been involved.

  Lars had also got an old student friend – a lawyer from The Hague – to check out whether crimes from East Germany were even kept open, let alone ever investigated, by the German police.

  The bad news had come back that they still sometimes were. Meaning that the media reports should be believed: Romy Scolari was a fugitive from justice, who could theoretically be arrested anywhere within the EU. Regardless of the fact that she’d been a minor at the time of the murder, the fact that she’d used arson to cover it up and then flee made her unstable in the eyes of the law. The lawyer had also said that, should a suspect like Romy – Lars had been careful, of course, not to give her real name – be convicted, then in the worst-case scenario she would lose custody of her son, possibly for good.

  The good news was that two of the orphan boys, Monk and Heinrich, who had confirmed that Romy was guilty of the murder had latterly been convicted of several offences – including rape – which would add credence to Romy’s version of events.

  Now that Lars and Romy had established what level of trouble Romy was in – and had some hope that she at least might be able to mount some kind of defence – they’d both decided to use whatever liberty she had left trying to right a different wrong. Namely, to win back Roberto’s company for him somehow. And in time, she hoped, his trust.

  Which is what Lars was clearly thinking about as he turned to Romy now.

  ‘This Brett Maddox,’ he said, ‘if he was prepared to blackmail you, then he might have done it to other people too.’

  ‘Or worse,’ Romy agreed. ‘I’m telling you, Lars, the way he looked at me, I don’t think he’s right. The malice in his eyes, the enjoyment – it wasn’t business, it was pleasure. He’s some kind of sadist, some kind of psycho, I’m sure. He’ll certainly stop at nothing to get what he wants.’

  ‘A guy like that, operating the way that he does, will have left a trail of what he’s done,’ Lars reassured her. ‘No matter how smart he thinks he is, there’ll be a chink in the Maddox armour somewhere. There always is. There’s no such thing as a clean corporation.’

  ‘But where? Where would we even start looking? Maddox is so big. God knows how many accountants and lawyers it’s got working for it. It might take us months, even years, to find a paper trail worth following. And then even that might peter out.’

  ‘We’ll just have to look for any irregularities. The same tricks that I see companies pulling all the time. Shell corporations. Dummy accounts. Fake employees. Anywhere cash vanishes, that’s where the corruption generally starts. But I’m also thinking that maybe we shouldn’t just go after Maddox Inc.’

  ‘You mean we should go after Brett Maddox himself as well?’

  ‘Why not? Everyone has their own personal paper trail these days. Emails, laptop files, personal records of meetings and business transactions – it’s all out there. It’s just getting access to it that’s hard.’

  ‘And illegal.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And something you could get into trouble for if you got caught?’ she said, worry rising up inside her. She’d hurt enough people already. She couldn’t risk Lars too. She said, ‘No—’

  ‘But I won’t get caught,’ he said. He pressed his finger to her lips as she began to protest again. ‘I’m the good guy, remember? The white hat hacker. Well, what’s the point in being all that if I can’t actually try and bring a bad motherfucker like this down?’

  Romy tipped the pancake from the frying pan onto the plate for Gretchen, amazed that the little girl could eat so many. She smiled, squirting the honey bottle in circles over it.

  ‘Do you like my daddy?’ Gretchen asked.

  Romy blushed. She hadn’t seen them in the kitchen, had she? Romy still couldn’t believe what had happened this morning. She felt shame swamping her – even though Lars had been so nice about it.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ she said. ‘He’s been very kind to me.’

  ‘He likes you.’ The way Gretchen raised her eyebrows reminded Romy of Lars. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  ‘Is that a fact?’ she said.

  ‘He doesn’t have girlfriends. He thinks I’ll mind, but I wouldn’t. All I want is for him to be happy.’

  Gretchen shovelled another mouthful of pancake into her mouth as Romy thought about Lars. He’d gone early to work this morning after he’d spoken to her, even thought it was a Sunday – or because it was a Sunday, in fact. Because it would be safer to do the kind of work he needed to do without anybody else there, leaving Romy to have a day with Gretchen, which, she realized, was just what she needed.

  ‘Do you miss Alfie?’ Gretchen asked.

  ‘All the time. Especially days like today. He loves pancakes,’ she said. How long had it been since she’d found time to make them for her son? What if she never got to make them for him again? She fought down the panic that had lessened since this morning with Lars, but was now back again.

  ‘Why don’t you just call him?’ she asked.

  Romy sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I did something bad once,’ Romy told her. She realized now that she wouldn’t have been that much older than Gretchen when she’d run away from the orphanage. Only a few years older. Now it amazed her that she’d been so resourceful and brave.

  ‘Did it make you feel horrible?’

  Romy nodded slowly. ‘Really horrible. And I thought I could forget all about it.’

  ‘But you can’t?’

  ‘No. No, I can’t.’

  ‘I stole something once,’ Gretchen said. ‘I felt so bad about it.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘What you’re meant to.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘I gave it back and said sorry. I felt so much better when I’d owned up.’

  Gretchen’s words were still on Romy’s mind as she sat side-by-side with Lars later that night. They were both looking at the screen of his laptop where the files he’d mailed on from work were coming through.

  ‘Lars, I’ve made up my mind about what I’m going to do,’ Romy said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to stop running. I’ve been running away from this all my life. And the only way I can fix it is if I stop and go back. To Germany. Back to Schwedt.’

  She expected him to be shocked, but he didn’t object. And the look in his eyes gave her all the confirmation that her decision was the right one.

  ‘I’m going to go to the police and own up – about the fire and the orphanage and Fox.’

  Lars let out a soft whistle. ‘I think that’s a very brave thing to do.’

  ‘It’s the only thing to do,’ her confidence was expanding. ‘I have to tell them what really happened. I have to make them believe that I’m telling the truth.’

  Lars nodded slowly and Romy smiled, amazed that he’d accepted her decision, that he respected her enough to do that, and that he clearly believed in her sufficiently too, that she could convince the police of her case. But then a frown appeared across his brow.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ he aske
d.

  Romy shook her head, smiling gently at this man who’d done so much for her, touched that he’d offered. ‘You’ve done enough. You have Gretchen. You’re needed here. Anyway, I think this is something I need to do alone.’

  ‘You do realize they’ll probably arrest you?’ he said.

  She shrugged and sighed. ‘Maybe, but they’ll catch up with me sooner or later. It’ll look better if I hand myself in.’

  ‘When are you going to go?’

  ‘Well, now, I suppose. The sooner, the better. Living like this is torture. I have to do this thing. The longer they have Alfie, the worse it’ll be.’

  ‘Then I’ll contact my friend Tegen Londrom. She’s the best lawyer there is. She’ll help.’

  Romy nodded, her head spinning that the plan was already taking shape.

  ‘How will you get there?’ Lars asked, clearly on the same wavelength.

  ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think I can fly. I don’t want to risk getting arrested at the airport. And the same goes for train stations too. They’re too public, the press would be all over them – and I want to actually get there, to the place where it all began.’

  ‘Take my car.’

  ‘You have a car?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a camper van, but it’s reliable and you can sleep in it, if you need to. Although it might be a bit cold. We’ll get it working, and get you a cheap mobile in the morning.’

  They stared at each other for a moment and Romy realized that her plan had been sealed. She really was going to do it. She was going back to Germany.

  Then Lars’s laptop chimed out a tune. ‘OK, now listen, what I’ve got here are comprehensive details of all of Maddox Inc.’s recent transactions, including those of all its subsidiaries. I’ll start with Italy and everything connected with Scolari, and if we strike out there, I’ll branch out into the rest of their European operations,’ Lars said. ‘It’s going to take time, but I promise you this now, Romy, I’ll ring you the second I get something. And I won’t stop until I’ve nailed these bastards to the wall.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  November 2009

  Michael’s finger pressed against Thea’s, no doubt meaning to reassure her, as he handed her a bone-china cup and saucer in Mrs Myerson’s front parlour.