by J G Alva
But you're not a violent man, a voice inside his head said.
But Toad was in the driving seat right now.
Anything could happen.
“Are you alright?” Karr asked curiously.
Nick shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
Karr continued, spreading his hands.
“So. It worked. Everyone was happy.”
Nick continued to grind his jaw.
“What about the husband?”
“If he was as cruel as she made out, then I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.”
Nick took another turn around the room.
“And do you usually lie to your patients?”
Karr was affronted.
“Dealing with patients is not a science, it’s an art, they have to be handled delicately, sometimes I have to...omit certain things, for the sake of the patient. Jessica Mitchell was my patient.”
“And Nick Mitchell wasn’t?”
Karr stared at Nick and, flustered, pushed his glasses up his nose.
“What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him,” Karr said, avoiding Nick’s eyes. “And as I understand it now, he died. When he was abroad.”
“That’s right,” Nick said, and he thought, it was right, Nick was dead, now there was only Stephen Sommers left. And Toad.
“And now she’s pregnant with another man,” Nick said, his eye on Karr. “And Mike Ross is the father?”
Karr blinked.
“How do you – "
“Is Mike Ross the father?”
Karr licked his lips.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to abort that one too?”
“No. She is blissfully happy. All’s well, that ends well, that’s what I say. Anyway...”
Nick turned.
“What?”
Karr scanned the surface of his desk as if he was looking for something, then looked at Nick.
“When I met the husband, Nicholas Mitchell, quite frankly, I was surprised. He didn’t seem to me to be...difficult. In fact, he seemed altogether too easy going to be all the things Jessica said he was. I pressed her about this, after the meeting with them both when I told him about the ectopic pregnancy and the low sperm count, because I felt bad about it.” He stopped, smoothing down his jumper.
“And?”
“And Jessica said he was good at hiding it. But...I got the impression that she was waiting for something else. Something better. She was a very attractive woman, very...voracious. He was sort of...mild. As a couple, they seemed woefully mismatched. If they’d had a child...” Karr spread his hands, looked at Nick. “It would have suffered, I think.” He looked at the floor, thought for a moment, then met Nick’s eyes. “I don’t think Mrs Michell’s attachment to him was very permanent.”
Nick stared at Dr Karr.
“Do you ever wonder if your wife’s attachment to you is very permanent?” Nick asked.
Karr looked shocked.
“What – "
“She would do well to be rid of you,” Nick said, and went to the study door, but paused with his hand on the knob.
“What sort of a fucking doctor are you?” he asked, but left before Karr could answer, because he couldn’t bear to be there a moment longer.
◆◆◆
CHAPTER 15
When Nick returned to the penthouse, the women were back.
He heard their voices before he saw them, a happy animated chatter, and when he came out of the hall on to the marble flooring he saw them in the lounge, looking at a collection of outfits they’d bought. Retail therapy, Nick thought. I wonder if it will work for me.
“Nick,” Rebekah called, when she saw him. “Look at what I’ve bought. This is Lanvin, Nick, Lanvin, my God, it’s beautiful, look at it...”
He went to the small kitchen recess and leaned on the counter, his back to them. It wasn’t within him to be cheerful, even for her sake. He just couldn’t find any joy in himself in that moment.
The sounds behind him gradually ceased. He didn’t turn. And then her voice, closer.
“Nick?”
He went in to the kitchen area without turning, began opening cupboards.
The first three cupboards yielded nothing, and he caught a finger in the door handle of one and unable to control himself slammed it shut with all his might, a loud whack! breaking the silence like a crack of thunder.
He turned around then, and all three women were staring at him, Rebekah at the edge of the marble flooring, almost as if she was afraid to step on it, her face worried.
He ignored her.
“Agathe,” he said, trying for pleasant, but his voice sounded flat and drained to his own ears. “Have you got anything to drink in this place? Whiskey, vodka? Beer even?”
“Um,” Agathe said, stepping past Rebekah, looking a little nervous, “I am thinking there is some in the bottom cupboard, Nick. By the cooker. But you may always call down to the main desk for something, if you are wanting.”
Nick bent down to retrieve it, vodka, aha, and heard Rebekah’s footsteps coming closer.
“Nick, what’s the matter? What happened?”
He stood up, the bottle in his hand, and smiled.
“Just need a drink, that’s all.”
Rebekah’s face was lined with worry. It hurt him to see it on her; it made her look older than her years.
Damn it, he thought, I can’t worry about her all the time. She’s old enough, she doesn’t need me anymore.
Yilmaz wandered in to the lounge, buttoning up a clean white shirt over a belly just becoming evident in his old age, and stopped when he observed the tableau in front of him. He spoke softly in Greek to Agathe and Kate, and they swiftly collected up their things and moved silently to the bedroom. If anything, Nick felt worse.
“Will you talk to me?” Rebekah demanded.
Nick found a glass, filled it a third of the way up and saluted her.
“You want one?” He asked.
Yilmaz came up beside Rebekah.
“What you have found is not good, no?” He said, his eyes concerned.
Rebekah looked at Yilmaz suspiciously and then turned back to Nick.
“What happened?” She asked. “Nick? Where have you been?”
“Go to your room, Rebekah,” Nick said. “I need to talk to Yilmaz alone.”
She looked at Yilmaz and he nodded silently.
“No. You tell me what happened, Nick. You tell me.”
Nick looked at the drink he had poured, but couldn’t bring himself to drink it. It would taste too much like defeat. He put the glass down gently.
“Do as I say, Rebekah,” Nick said tiredly.
“No,” Rebekah insisted. “I’m not a child. You can’t just send me to my room. Tell me what – "
“Do as I say,” Nick shouted.
Rebekah recoiled as if slapped, and with a look of bright hate on her face, which Yilmaz was not excluded from, she left the room.
Yilmaz’s eyes followed Rebekah until she had left the room.
“You should not treat her so.”
Nick looked at him with distaste.
“Really?”
“It is not her you hate. The hate is for...others.” He paused. “She is in love with you.”
“God knows why.”
“She is part of you. How do you say? She is in here” – he patted his chest with a fist like a gorilla – “your heart. Yes?”
Nick thought, and slowly nodded.
“I didn’t want her to see me like this.”
The silence in the penthouse seemed to be full of anticipation, like the silence in a wood before a storm breaks.
“So?” Yilmaz said eventually.
“They made a story together,” Nick said. “They lied to me. She lied to me. They killed my child.”
Yilmaz bowed his head.
More silence. But the storm had already broken, Nick thought.
“That is not all,” Yilmaz said.
&nb
sp; Nick looked at Yilmaz as if he had just woken from a bad dream.
“What? What is it?”
Yilmaz chewed his lip and then said, “in the reports from Mr Dunn there is something that...” He sighed angrily, started again. “While you were visiting the doctor, I was looking at the files from Mr Dunn to see if there was not some way I could prove to you that your wife did not have anything to do with what had happened to you on the boat, that Michael Ross had tried to do to you.”
He paused again and Nick said impatiently, “and?”
“There was some of the statements from her bank account. I did not know that it was possible to access the bank account – is this not a private thing? – but Mr Dunn has done so. A month before you are going to the Seychelles, Jessica Mitchell took £70,000 out of her bank. I do not know, maybe she invested it, maybe she was buying a car or – "
“Dammit, you know what she was doing!” Nick shouted. “She was paying to have me killed!”
Yilmaz was silent.
“So,” Nick said, his voice gone small. “Now we know.”
Nick looked down at the glass, picked it up and then threw it at the wall, where it smashed explosively.
◆◆◆
“I have read of the information of your death,” Yilmaz said.
They both had coffee, a more agreeable alternative to vodka, Nick thought. Nick’s stomach hurt, but it wasn’t from the hot fluid.
“Oh?”
Yilmaz nodded.
“It is closed. Witness statements were taken, Michael’s among them. Some trouble went to finding your body for many weeks after you were thrown in to the sea. But nothing was found.”
“Obviously. And nobody was suspicious that anything untoward might have taken place?”
Yilmaz shook his head, made a face.
“There is some political problems, I am reading. There have been many attacks of many ships, and the men that have been caught are Somalians. Somalia is a country in much upheaval. Crime is very bad. Warlords are very powerful, so much so the Somalian government cannot do much to stop them. And the warlords protect the pirates because of how much money they make for them. There was not much your government could do.”
Nick nodded. It left him feeling angry, but he had suspected as much when he was on the island.
“What about Rebekah?”
Yilmaz had the file open in his hands, and hit the paper as if a fly had landed on it.
“There is mention of a girl that was shot, that also went in to the sea, but as nobody is knowing the identification of the girl, not much could be done.”
Nick frowned.
“Her aunt didn’t report her missing?”
Yilmaz scanned the sheets in front of him.
“It does not say here.”
“Maybe Dunn’s report isn’t complete.”
Yilmaz grunted.
“Mm. Well. What is to be done? What are you thinking we should do next?”
Nick thought, took a sip of coffee, swallowed it slowly.
“I’d like to know what shape my company’s in,” he said finally. “If Mike has run it in to the ground or not.”
“That is good. I know a man to talk to. He is much clever, knows very much about business in this area.”
“Hm. I’d also like to know how we can cut Mike out of it. And Arthur.”
“This we will ask also. This man, he is good man, but he is also clever. He will tell us. We will go tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Nick couldn’t do anything more today, he felt shattered.
“But tonight we must eat, and to eat we must go out, so go and dress, and I will tell Agathe and Kate and Rebekah to dress.”
“Yilmaz,” Nick said, and sighed.
Yilmaz frowned.
“There is a problem?”
“Thank you for the offer, and I don’t want to offend you or your family, but...I can’t go out tonight. I just can’t.”
“What are you going to do? Stay in? Stare at the walls?” He made a face. “Watch television?" He reserved his most disgusted face for this particular pastime. "This is not good.”
“I know, I just...I can’t face anyone, Yilmaz. I can’t.”
Yilmaz frowned harder, but Nick said, “you go. Take the girls out. Take Rebekah. Make her laugh. Have a good time. I’ll only bring the evening down.”
“I am not so sure it is good to leave you alone, my friend.”
Nick smiled.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, laying a hand on Yilmaz’s shoulder. “I just...I don’t want to go out tonight.”
Yilmaz nodded, accepting the inevitability of it.
“Very well. The ladies will be disappointed, but I think they will understand. I will see you in the morning, yes? And we go to see my business friend?”
“You got it,” Nick said, and mustered up a smile. “Have fun.”
◆◆◆
“Why won’t you come?” Rebekah asked, for the third time. “I bought this nice dress – well, Agathe bought it for me really – but I bought it for you, and I want you to see me wear it. Please come out, Nick. It’ll be good.”
“I know. I just...I can’t tonight, Rebekah. Please don’t ask me.”
She stopped, studying him.
“What happened today?” She asked softly.
He wanted to tell her, God he did, but it would take more energy than he had, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore, he wanted to bury it, to sleep, sleep for a thousand years and maybe when he woke up it would be gone, or forgotten, or he might finally have the energy to deal with it.
Nick sighed.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Rebekah’s mouth fixed into an unhappy line.
“Fine. Stay in if you want. I don’t really care. Do whatever you want. Wallow in self-pity if it makes you feel better.”
“Rebekah – "
“I bet it was Jessica, wasn’t it.” Something must have shown on his face because she nodded as if he had confirmed it. “Precious Jessica. When are you going to realise that bitch isn’t worthy of the glorified opinion you have of her.”
Nick could have laughed if he hadn’t felt so empty.
Instead he sighed.
“You don’t understand – "
“You’re right. I don’t understand. I never did. All I can think is, she’s a trophy. You want her because she looks pretty, like the paintings in those galleries we saw on Mahé. Pretty, but useless.”
And Rebekah stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
◆◆◆
He heard the front door open, and felt relief at the interruption of his thoughts. They were just going around and around and around...
But when he looked at the clock it was only just after ten, too early for them to have finished their meal and be back, and as he got out of bed the bedroom door opened and light from the hallway dazzled him.
“Who?” He said, shielding his eyes.
The door shut, but the after image of the doorway hung in his vision.
As his night vision returned, the shadowy figure moved closer.
“I’m sorry about what I said,” a small voice muttered in the dark.
“Rebekah,” Nick said. It might have been a sigh.
“I came back early because I thought...well, I don’t know what I thought, but I just wanted to...I couldn’t enjoy myself. I just kept thinking about you, sitting here by yourself, and after what I’d said to you...”
He went to her and took her in his arms.
She hugged him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said.
They stood together like that for some time, just holding each other.
Eventually, Nick let her go, and then guided her to the bed in the dark.
“Listen,” he said. “I want to tell you, about what happened today...”
He told her about the visit to the offices of Dunn and Field, and then to Dr Karr’
s house, and when he was done he felt like a grapefruit somebody’d hollowed out and discarded.
“Oh God, Nick,” Rebekah said.
She squeezed his hand.
“I always hated her,” she said, “for my sake, but now I hate her even more, for yours. God. She’s not the woman I thought she was, if she’s capable of that sort of thing...”
“She was in it from the start.”
Rebekah paused.
“Yes. It would seem so.”
“Everybody lied to me, Rebekah. Everybody I trusted lied to me. I can’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. But it’s true. I thought I was good with people, I thought I was a good judge of character, but somehow I managed to surround myself with a bunch of phonies. How the hell did that happen? Huh? How the fuck did I let that happen?”
In the dark, she held him.
◆◆◆
PART 3
REVENGE
CHAPTER 16
“What you’re asking is...highly irregular,” Harold Thomas said fussily.
He looked like a boy…at least to Nick he did anyway. He was short, slim to the point of emaciation, had a thin boyish face, very fine brown hair and wore glasses. Yilmaz had said he was twenty six but Nick found it hard to believe. It was obvious Harold was aware of how young he looked, because to offset his boyishness he wore a sombre navy suit and had grown a moustache. But the moustache was patchy, and he just looked like a boy trying to grow a moustache.
All impressions aside, to have risen so high at such a young age in what appeared to Nick – from his brief walk through the main part of the building – was a game for old men, meant that he had to be exceptionally good at what he did. Yilmaz thought he was a genius. Nick preferred to think of genius in relation to the creative arts. Could you be a genius with money? Surely it was just number crunching.
“It is a good company,” Yilmaz said. “Me and my good friend, Mr Sommers, believe it is worth owning this company. However it is not on the market, no?”
Yilmaz spread his hands as if to say what are we to do?