by Stuart Field
The table, like the Master, had seen many things – good and evil, but they had always been together. He figured one day he too would be laid out on the table on his death. Family, friends and comrades would say their farewells. He would be gone, but the table would go on to serve its next Master.
Long boney fingers brushed against the top's uneven wood, then moved slowly over to the map. He smiled as he looked at the plan marked out with red and blue crosses, and lines. Point A was their base in Tunisia, point B was Malta, point C was lost in the room's dark. Soon all would be illuminated, soon the world would know their name.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The meal at Kane’s home had been pleasant, with lots of local wine and excellent food. Kane told stories about his film career and the parts he and his family often played. Steel took an interest in the tales of the stars who visited, the stories he could not share on the tours. Steel looked around at Kane, his wife, and two sons. He had what most would consider a perfect life, a great family and a career doing what they love.
‘So, John, do you have a family back in Britain?’ Maria asked with a broad smile.
Steel shook his head, a hidden look of sadness masked behind a fake smile. ‘No. I’m…alone, no family,’ Steel said, before taking a sip from the wine glass.
Maria looked over at Steel curiously, feeling his pain, but not understanding it.
Samara leaned forwards and said something in Maltese. Steel did not understand. However, Maria’s reaction spoke volumes, as she turned to face Steel, her large glazed, hazel coloured eyes filled with sympathy.
Steel had heard the tales people told of his family’s murder, and he was aware that most of the account was missing. Actual reports had been mixed in with Chinese whispers, and before he knew it, the story got watered down or blown out of proportion.
But he knew the truth of what happened, Steel still did not understand why they had attacked. He had been chasing the criminal organisation called SANTINI for what seemed like a lifetime. However, there was another organisation out there who could have orchestrated the murder.
He just did not know which had given the order.
‘I am sorry about your family, your wife and parents. I did not know, forgive me,’ Maria said with a sympathetic smile.
Steel smiled back and shook his head. ‘There is nothing to forgive Maria, it was a long time ago, I have learnt to live with it and move on,’ Steel lied.
Samara gaze suggested she saw through his lies, but she said nothing.
‘So, apart from sending me on wild goose chases, what else you been up too?’ Steel asked Kane, causing him to choke on the large chunk of bread he had just put in his mouth. Kane’s children laughed as their father’s face turned red.
Kane swallowed the bread and drunk some wine to clear his throat. Steel smiled at his small and simple revenge. Plus it was an excellent way to shift everyone’s thoughts from his past onto something else.
‘It wasn’t my brother’s fault,’ Samara said softly. ‘Today’s distraction was my fault, I asked Kane to do it. I thought those men were after you, and Gozo is… well, shall we say a not so public place in areas’.’
Steel had to admit Samara was a beautiful woman. Her eyes were large and inquisitive, deep hazel liquid pools that he could stare into all day. He thought back to Helen of Troy and Cleopatra's stories and could envisage Samara looked the way they might have. Her dark hair shone in the light spilling from the house. She was perfect in body and mind, and she could kick ass. He liked that.
‘Nice place for accidents – or people going missing, I take it,’ Steel said reading between the lines.
‘Exactly, I thought the tour might force them to make a move,’ Samara said.
‘So, why were they after you?’ he asked.
‘Who knows?’ She shrugged. ‘I am Mossad, it could be anything to do with that, a faction against us or someone in a panic because I’m here.’ Her voice was calm, and she seemed unaffected by the thought that someone was after her. ‘All I do know, John, is they seem interested in you. And that could work out to be useful,’ she said, leaning back in her chair and smiling, as she remembered the big man’s face as she gave it a massive roundhouse kick.
‘What do you mean – interested in me?’ His tone bit sharply at the realisation that they – whoever they were – had no idea who he was. All along, he thought he had been a target, but it wasn’t so. Now they did know about him, what were they going to do about it? ‘What is there to know, I’m just here on vacation and to visit a friend who lost his daughter?’
Samara shot a desperate glance to her brother; mouths gaped open as if struggling for words.
‘Samara, why do you think I was here?’ Steel growled, tossing the linen napkin onto the table. Maria hurried the children away to their rooms, sensing Steel’s frustration.
‘Your friend. He is Mr Foster, correct? One of the section chiefs at the Embassy?’ Kane said.
‘Yes, he called me a couple of days ago, his daughter Lucy had been found dead by the Azure Window. She was my Goddaughter.’ Steel replied.
‘Yes, it made the local news. I’m sorry for your loss,’ Samara paused. ‘But we have been watching your friend for some time. You see, someone in the Embassy has been contacting a terrorist group. And… shall we say his movements have been very…’ Samara’s voice drifted away.
‘Questionable?’ Steel finished the sentence.
Samara nodded at the choice of word.
‘You know his kid just died?’ Steel said, picking up the glass of wine.
‘Yes, but we were watching a while before that,’ Samara said. Her eyes had grown sharper, searching him for hidden answers or tells, or maybe she was just interested in him?
‘Really, what’s a little? Three months?’ Steel said, placing the wine glass against his mouth ready to take a sip.
‘A year,’ Samara finished.
Steel scowled at her omission. ‘A year?’ Steel said. Almost lost for words, not believing what he was hearing. Then it struck him like a hammer. Steel scowled at Samara. ‘Well if you were watching him, who else was?’ Steel asked. Surely the CIA had to know. They always did, it was their job.
‘Why the hell have you been watching him for a year?’
Samara said nothing. ‘Mossad has been watching him for a year, not my sister, she only got this assignment a week ago,’ Kane said. His gaze switched to Samara. She smiled back at Kane softly. Always the big brother wanting to protect her.
‘And you, Kane? Are you also Mossad?’ Steel asked sharply. He began to wonder what he had suddenly walked into, worst of all, willingly.
Kane smiled and shook his head.
‘No, John. I was born on Malta, whereas Samara was born in Israel. Our father is an Israeli and our mother is Maltese. They met when our father was stationed here during that time. They met, they dated, they fell in love, and I was the result. Soon after they married, our father was sent back to Israel. For some people a possible strange combination, but no more than British soldiers marrying German women,’ Kane shrugged. ‘Samara and I are only separated by a few years, but some say I look older – it must be the beard,’ he laughed.
‘But you have different last names?’ Steel said, somewhat intrigued.
‘Ah, yes. The price of show business I’m afraid. I changed my last name when I became an actor, my agent thought it would be best,’ Kane explained.
‘So, how is it you came back to Malta?’ Steel asked, trying to figure out this families complex tale.
‘My mother wanted me to grow up in the way of the Maltese people, to carry on our family heritage, I was sent over at a young age to live with my grandparents. I guess our mother had already seen that our father wanted us to be Mossad, but I was already an outsider. So, the decision was made, and well – here I am,’ Kane said with outstretched arms.
‘Weren’t you a bit pissed-off you didn’t get to be Mossad?’ Steel asked before taking a sip from his drink.
> ‘Not at all, besides, I have enough action in my life,’ Kane laughed. ‘Sure, in my films I do stunt work, shoot guns and exciting stuff like that, but the thought of actually risking my life?’ Kane shook his head and cracked a smile from the corner of his mouth. ‘no, I’m quite happy where I am, thank you.’
‘So, what makes you think it’s Foster that’s the mole?’ Steel said, returning his gaze to Samara.
‘I’m just here on an intel-gathering mission, observe and not interact. That’s it,’ Samara’s face held a neutral expression. Even her large brown eyes gave nothing away.
‘Well, I’m impressed by your idea of non-interaction.’ Steel smiled softly.
‘They attacked me, I retaliated.’ Samara shrugged. ‘What’s your excuse, Mr John Steel?’ she growled. The words were drawn out.
‘Damsel in distress.’
Kane smiled at Steel’s quick reply.
‘Was Foster the only one you're looking at?’ Steel asked, hoping for a negative.
‘I can’t discuss a secret operation, especially one you are involved in,’ Samara said. Her tone was stern but also playful.
‘Hey, you brought me into this,’ Steel said.
‘When?’
‘The moment you started following me.’ Steel sat back in his chair. His gaze fixed onto her.
Samara smiled and combed her fingers through her hair.
‘Fair enough, no, he wasn’t the only one.’
‘Wasn’t – as in, he is now?’ Steel said, sitting forward.
‘He is the only one who was acting out of character, even before his daughter’s death,’ Samara insisted. But Steel saw something in her face. Uncertainty.
‘But –?’
‘But – nothing fits. Everyone else was clean except Foster,’ Samara said. Her neutral expression had returned.
‘You think the Agency is funding this terrorist group, don’t you?’ Steel asked, sitting back in his chair. He held the wine glass but rested it on the armrest.
Samara remained silent, as she stood up and carried some empty plates inside. Steel stood up and did the same. He needed answers.
Was this why Lucy had died, and it had nothing to do with what Brad had found? Or had what Brad had seen something to do with what Foster was up to?
Or worse still – had Foster had Brad taken out because of what he’d found?
Steel followed Samara into the kitchen.
‘I am sorry about your friend,’ she said, hoping to smooth the situation.
‘Foster’s no traitor, he’s too lazy for that,’ Steel said, but he still nagged him why they were looking at him for the leak. ‘Foster always liked the quiet, comfortable life, heck he spent most of our Op’s sleeping.’
‘Just because we were looking doesn’t mean it was so,’ Samara admitted.
‘No, but either way, I’m going to find out. I am here to find out what happened to Lucy, so far, all I got is some kid called Brad and a blackmail scam,’ Steel said.
‘Did you talk with him?’
‘Unfortunately, not. Someone shot him on a bridge in Mosta,’ Steel said.
‘So, what’s your plan now?’ She asked.
Steel leant against the side of the breakfast bar, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the presence of this beauty. Her eyes burnt into his soul, his emotions, his primal urges. He looked away and coughed.
Samara smiled softly, knowing that Steel had felt something for her – love, lust? She did not know, but there was something.
She had won this round. One point to her.
‘Well, considering you dragged me into, this I guess we could work together,’ Steel said as innocently as he could manage, his gaze crept back onto her’s.
‘Guessing or hoping?’ she said, moving closer to Steel. She moved hypnotically like a snake dancer.
Steel swallowed hard but maintained his stance against the counter.
‘Yes, of course, I mean someone’s got to keep you out of trouble,’ Steel laughed looking down into her deep brown eyes.
They stood for a moment. Locked in one another’s gaze. Two people trying to find that hidden something.
Steel wondered only one thing – could he trust her? He looked deeper into her eyes. Perfect white surrounded deep pools of hazel, with a hint of yellow. He started to wonder if he had been wrong about her likeness been that of Helen of Troy or Cleopatra, he wondered if she was more like the Medusa or the sirens. These beautiful monsters that dragged the unwary to their doom.
‘So, who wants coffee,’ yelled Kane, striding in and switching on the coffee machine. Oblivious of the moment, he had just disturbed.
Steel and Samara both jumped at the sudden noise and smiled awkwardly. They moved apart casually as if nothing had been happening.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Steel woke around three that morning, needing the bathroom and a bottle of water. He had watched the rain from the balcony window for a while, as he sipped the water. It had come down heavily, making a lake on the terrace. He looked over at the small island and the old fort at Manoel island, something was still nagged him about that place. It was too quiet, serene. What was it Kane had said? ‘It was out of bounds to the public.’
He finished the water and headed back to bed. It was still early, and he had a long day ahead of him later.
Weather permitting.
He crawled back under the sheets and sighed heavily. The bed was still warm and very comfortable –too comfortable.
Steel breathed in and out.
He closed his eyes, hoping his nightmares wouldn’t return.
He breathed in and out.
The image of Samara walking over to him, those hypnotic moves of hers burned in his memory. Steel smiled. Hoping that this time he would have pleasant dreams. Who knows, maybe Samara would be in them – perhaps in a bikini.
He breathed in and out, then fell into another haunted sleep – the nightmare of his wife's death had returned for another night.
The sound of pounding rain had woken him. The storm was still going, the downpour continued. He opened one eye and stared at the window. It was not going to be a dry and warm day as the days before. He stared at the window a little longer and gathered the sheets around him like a shroud of defiance. He did not want to get up. The bed was warm and far too pleasant to leave for that weather.
Steel looked over at the clock next to the bed and groaned. It was six in the morning. He’d forced himself to lie-in – after all, he was on vacation. The unyielding sound of rain hammering against the bedroom window suddenly made him regret not getting a standard room with a balcony overhang.
Steel wasn’t a great fan of rain. He would seek to avoid going out in it when he could. He’d spent too much time in the rain while he was in the Army and the Teams.
Steel gave a deep sigh and forced himself from the comfort of the warm bed. He had slept, despite the ever-recurring nightmares.
‘Right ya fucker, get your arse in gear,’ Steel said to himself, in a deep voice imitating his old training sergeant from the British Army.
By eight o’clock, Steel had spent an hour in the hotel’s gym before having breakfast in his suite. He had chosen the continental breakfast, a somewhat impressive mix of fruits, bread, cold meats, fish, cereals, and lots of coffee. After he poured his forth coffee, he left the breakfast table and headed for the sitting room. The morning sun was trying to break through, now and then there would be a break in the clouds, and seamless blue could be seen, and then it would be gone.
Steel sipped the coffee. It was strong and rich.
A good coffee.
Steel sat in an armchair. He was wearing just a pair of pyjama shorts and a complimentary bathrobe.
After all – he was on vacation, allegedly.
Looking out across the small terrace at the grey weather outside made Steel wonder about his plans for the day. But it could not be helped. He had a job to do regardless of the damn weather. The rain showed no sign of stopping or letting up; wh
ich was perfect for the plants, crops and wildlife of the island.
Steel looked at his cell phone for messages, but there was nothing new. He looked back at the storm and drank his strong coffee. He needed a new plan.
The rain has stopped play, he thought to himself.
Something he could not afford. Steel needed to shower and change before committing to a plan. He rechecked his phone, just in case, then headed for the bathroom to shower. Steel hoped by the time he came out, the storm had passed.
If not ‒ well, he’d just have to go and get wet.
Samara sat in her Mini and watched the Foster residence from across the road, and a few cars back for cover. Samara had figured that now she had made contact with Steel she could return to her original assignment. John Steel’s arrival had derailed her from her assignment, but only briefly. Now, Foster had he full attention.
The rest of the family had left minutes before, leaving Marcus Foster home alone. She had been there for two hours. There was no need for an overnight stakeout.
She looked at her watch out of boredom. It was two minutes since she last checked at eight o’clock. Samara shook her watch just to make sure the hands hadn’t frozen in place. She sighed and stretched her muscles, accidentally knocking over her coffee as she did so.
‘Shit,’ she cursed, grabbing old napkins from the back seat or anything back there to soak up the cold caffeine. As she leant over to the back seat, she missed the blacked-out Land Rover pull up outside Foster’s house, or the four men get out and head for the residence.
Two went to the front, while the other two took the back.
Her cell phone rang, causing her to straighten from her mopping up. She looked over at the display panel of the minis onboard entertainment system. The cars Bluetooth system had picked up her phone, and the call rerouted. The display told her it was Steel calling.
‘Yes – what?’ she growled, wanting to end the call and get back to cleaning her passenger seat.