Forgive No More

by Seb Kirby

  A new stone coffin had been added. It bore the name Alfieri Lando and the dates of his birth and death. Nothing more.

  I pushed past, deeper into the mausoleum, into the small chamber where I’d found Julia.

  Recalling my waking dream, I shone the flashlight around the walls, searching for the secret doorway I was now certain must exist. But there was nothing to indicate that my dream had been anything other than a product of my imagination.

  Then I heard noises coming from outside. The sounds of someone checking the entrance to the tomb. I held my breath and turned off the flash lamp. I stood in the dark and trembled at the thought that the entrance door might be locked from the outside and I would be trapped inside.

  When silence returned and I ventured back towards the entrance, I found my worst fears confirmed. I couldn’t reach the entrance door. The door separating the chapel from the stone coffins of the Lando ancestors had been shut tight and I was on the wrong side. As I peered through the gaps in the wrought iron lattice of this doorway, I could see it had been barred and padlocked and could only be opened from the other side. There was nowhere to go but deeper into the tomb.

  Had it been an act of fate that when I arrived the entrance to the tomb had been unlocked and someone had then come to close it? Or had I been seen approaching the churchyard and been taken in by a deliberate plan to trap me? It didn’t matter which. I was here in this cold, damp, death-filled place with only the light of a flash lamp to find my way around.

  Why had I been so foolish as to allow myself to be trapped like this? Why had I staked everything on a dream?

  If I couldn’t find a way out, I could die in here.

  Chapter 80

  When Wolfgang Heller received the message from Cleary he was in a hotel room in Innsbruck. He was in the city to rest for a few days, find available women and gain from them the energy that would allow him to overcome the disappointment of losing Blake.

  Cleary’s message changed all that.

  He made his way to London on a scheduled flight. In a further few hours he was in the English Lake District, stepping off the train on to the platform at Windermere Station. He marveled at this wonder of the modern world. That he could pass through countries with such ease as this.

  He decided to wait until nightfall to make his move on Rook Lane.

  The intelligence received from Cleary told him that the Blake woman had rudimentary protection. Nothing to delay him for long but something he needed to take care of if he was to achieve his goal in being here. He spent the hours he needed to wait in the Internet cafe in Argyle Street, using his tablet computer to keep in contact with Matteo Lando.

  He messaged him from their chosen social media site.

  My friend, I have good news. There is no need for me to come to meet you again as soon as planned. I have a lead on the woman we have the most interest in.

  The message came back by return.

  That’s no problem. Send her my best wishes for a long and trouble-free life.

  Heller knew this was Matteo’s way of granting permission for the Blake woman to be killed.

  Heller closed off the conversation.

  OK. I will wish her the best from you.

  He logged off the site.

  Another two hours until darkness fell.

  Time to meditate on the success of his plan.

  Chapter 81

  He was surprised to be called in to see Bill Maynard but Agent Ashley soon realized what was required.

  “Just tell me where she is, Ashley.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, sir. I’m with you on this.”

  “So, where does Craven have her?”

  “I can show you.”

  Ashley took Maynard and the six armed agents Carnegie supplied to the basement area of the FBI building. At the end of a long passageway on a level that could only be reached down an unmarked staircase and hence did not exist as far as anyone using the elevator was concerned, they were faced with a guard who sat behind a locked, roof-high lattice steel barrier.

  The guard looked up as Maynard and his men approached, weapons drawn. “It’s no entry. There’s an interrogation in progress.” Maynard waved the authorization paper given him by Carnegie. “This says open up. And if you don’t, in comes the pepper spray and the CS gas. So, let us in.”

  The guard looked once more at the six weapons pointed at him and pressed the button to open the door. “This is down to you. I just follow orders.”

  Beyond the next door, the interrogation was in full flow.

  Debbie Miller was staked out on the downward-sloping wooden board and was choking on the water that had been drawn into her lungs as she’d fought for the last breath of air that might save her life.

  Craven was enjoying his work and for a moment was unaware of what was happening behind him. “Tell me, Miller, what was the real reason for your trip to Tijuana? Tell me and this can stop.”

  When he realized what was happening, Craven turned and eyed Maynard and his men. “What do you want? This is a secure zone. What allows you to come bursting into here like this?”

  Maynard said nothing. His look of disgust said it all. While Maynard’s men surrounded Craven, Maynard pushed Craven aside, undid the leather restraints that pinned Debbie Miller to the board and lifted her in his arms. He carried her away from the interrogation zone and began administering first aid. “Got to get the water out of your lungs. Give you a chance to breathe.”

  Debbie began to come round with violent coughing and gasping as the water was expelled and clean air was taken in.

  Craven was still protesting when Maynard called in medical support for Debbie and she was taken from the room on a trolley to the sick bay to recover. He was pointing at Maynard and shouting, “I told you I need to know who you are and what gives you the authority to come in here like this.”

  “The name’s Maynard and I’m here to make your life hell.”

  Craven shuddered at the sound of the name. “I know you’re thick with Miller. You don’t think any of the lies she tells about me will be believed, do you? She’s implicated. Compromised. No one’s going to believe you’re not just doing this to help her.”

  Maynard came up close and looked deep into the man’s eyes. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

  Maynard had never imagined he would do what he was about to do to a fellow agent. Someone on his own side. But then he’d never imagined someone like Craven could rise so far within the Agency and exert such a perverse influence on all he touched, nor that Craven would sink so low as to waterboard Debbie Miller. To do the same to Craven was nothing more than effective and appropriate.

  Craven did not want to believe what was about to happen. “You’re out of order, Maynard. You’re not going to get away with it. This will finish your career.”

  “Like you tried to finish Debbie’s?”

  “Just see sense. I’ll face my superiors. Our superiors. I’ll give them my motivation in doing what I did. I’ll explain. I’ll take what’s coming. Whatever they decide.”

  “Except you don’t get the chance to do that, Craven. You see I know about the lies you served up about Town Lake. I know what you did and how you’re the last man on the planet to deserve the Intelligence Star when all those people died. And I know about the drugs out of Mexico. It’s all up for you, Craven. I just need to find out what else you know.”

  Maynard dragged Craven towards the waterboard.

  Craven tried to fight back but Maynard was too strong. He appealed to the men with Maynard. “You’re not going to let him do this. This is Nate Craven. Agent Nate Craven.”

  When Maynard nodded, two of them forced Craven onto the sloping wooden board and fixed tight the leather straps at his wrists and ankles. Maynard placed the thin cotton sheet over Craven’s face and turned on the flow of water. The man’s complaints soon stopped as he struggled to find the air to breathe.

  Maynard knew this was a form of drowning. Except the process could be hal
ted by stopping the water flow and allowing the victim to recover long enough to answer the questions put to him. And then it could be repeated again and again until every last secret was revealed. The Japanese had used it in World War Two. It was said they’d picked it up from the Spanish who’d used it during the Inquisition. Now it was part of Agency training to prepare field operatives for what might happen to them if they were captured.

  They all talked. With Craven it was no different. Before the fifth drowning he’d told Maynard everything.

  Maynard dismissed the men who were with him. “Stand guard outside. Close the door.”

  With Craven still struggling for breath from the last immersion, Maynard took the man by the throat and began to squeeze. “I could strangle you, Craven, for what you’ve done. For who you are. But it would be too good for you.”

  Craven’s eyes pleaded. “Let me go. There’s nothing else you need.”

  Maynard covered Craven’s mouth and nose with his big hands and waited as the life in the man began to be snuffed out. “This is the only release you deserve.”

  Craven struggled for longer than Maynard expected. He was a tough man but the leather ties at his wrists and ankles meant that all the strength that remained would be in vain.

  At the last moment Maynard released him and stood back as Craven fought once more to fill his lungs with air. “Know this, Craven. I should have finished you. But I’ve let you live on to face the shame of what you’ve done. You’re going to find your hell on earth.”

  Maynard called in the guards once more. “Better call the medics back. This man’s suffered a relapse. Get him seen to. Then lock him up.”

  Chapter 82

  The dankness of the tomb seeped into my skin. It was cold in here. I was shivering.

  The battery in the lamp would fail if I used it too much. Without it I was lost.

  I sat on the edge of Alfieri Lando’s coffin and thought through how I’d arrived at this worst of all outcomes. It was a cruel irony that my best attempts to root out the evil of this family had led me here. To the place they were brought when they died. To the place where Julia had been abused.

  I tried not to think about what Alfieri Lando had put her through. I had to keep my mind from returning to the way he’d drugged her and imprisoned her here and done with her as he wished. I tried to keep these thoughts at bay but they kept returning, fuelling a burning anger that was going to consume me if I didn’t overcome it, sapping my resolve to find a way out.

  I had to concentrate on what had brought me here. I had to trust myself if I was to have any chance of surviving.

  In my waking dream I’d seen a doorway closing. Someone had closed it from the other side. It meant there must be something on the other side. A way out if I could find it.

  I returned to the chamber where I’d rescued Julia and ran my hands over the surface of the walls. Cold, mold-covered stone. No notable features. Nothing protruding that could be pushed or pressed and could allow a secret doorway to open.

  The lamplight was beginning to flicker. I was running out of time.

  I turned off the lamp and stood shivering in the darkness. I fought against the growing feeling that I would never get out of there.

  I told myself that a secret doorway was no use to anyone if it only opened from one side. There had to be a mechanism of some kind to open it from this side.

  I used the lamp in flashes to return to the Lando ancestors. I sat again on Alfieri Lando’s coffin. The next coffin belonged to Alfieri’s father, Benito. I recalled the conversations we’d had about Benito Lando and the role he’d played in World War Two. Something told me to look in more detail at his coffin, using up precious lamplight as I searched.

  There were scratch marks on the stone base the coffin rested on. Those marks suggested the coffin had been moved. Or could be moved. Why would that be needed for something this heavy?

  I pushed hard against the coffin. It began to rotate. I pushed harder until it had moved through almost ninety degrees.

  Then I saw it. A lever, set into the stone base, revealed now the coffin had been moved.

  I pulled the lever.

  In the chamber next door there was the sound of a mechanism being activated. Something like a weight supported on a chain being dropped.

  I made my way back into the chamber.

  A doorway opened.

  Chapter 83

  Bill Maynard sat at Debbie Miller’s bedside waiting for her to come round.

  He was holding her hand when she opened her eyes. “Bill. How long have I been out?”

  “Not long, Debbie. You made it. That’s what matters.”

  “You got me out of there.”

  “Promise me Debbie, you won’t take risks like that again. Craven would have killed you.”

  “It was the only way to keep him from discovering how we were going to stop him.”

  “Yes, and you were so good at it you almost got yourself killed. And if the test hadn’t shown a match?”

  “But it did. You got the truth out of Craven?”

  “All of it. The whole pack of lies. You were right, Debbie. Town Lake had nothing to do with East Africa. Craven blamed terrorists to cover for his own involvement in the drugs business in Mexico. He’s been offering protection to the Soto cartel for the past five years. While we’ve been chasing the wrong people in East Africa, cocaine has been flooding into the US, mining lives. If he went down for that alone it would justify all I’ve just done. But that’s just the beginning.”

  “You got more out of him?”

  “By the time I’d finished with him I’m sure he’d held nothing back. Did you know he sent one of his men, Marvin Bryce, to London to try to kill me and Michael Bedford? And to make it worse he colluded with Bryce, once I’d stopped him, to name James Blake as the one behind Bryce’s attempt to kill us, making Blake a key target. Another false trail Craven led us along.”

  “You accept that James Blake is innocent?”

  “The more I look into the database, the more it looks like it. Craven’s actions in renditioning him to Austin were way out of line. Another part of Craven’s cover up.”

  “And his brother, Miles?”

  “Same story. OK, he’s been tapping contacts in the State Department to get information on the drugs traffic out of Mexico. So what? It’s no capital crime. It’s what journalists do. Though you know I’d stop most of them doing any of it if I had my way.”

  “You never were the touchy-feely type, Bill.”

  He smiled. “OK, Debbie, you know me too well. But you get the point. Making Miles Blake public enemy number one, making him a prime target, was all part of Craven’s cover up of his own involvement in the drugs business. Miles Blake could have blown apart Craven’s operation. No surprise that Craven was prepared to go to such lengths to stop him.”

  “And that’s all, Bill?”

  “I wish it was. Craven had Joe Franks killed, one of the most respected and loyal agents the Agency has ever seen. Removed by Craven to cover his tracks. And setting off more false trails in London. Everywhere you look, Craven’s muddied the waters. All for his own gain. The more we look the more we find.”

  She sat up in the bed and stretched. “So, where does that leave us on Town Lake? Who was it if it wasn’t East Africa terrorists?”

  “I was hoping you’d know the answer, Debbie. Who was Craven covering up for? Who was it who used the explosive that came up from Mexico?”

  “I couldn’t be sure before this, Bill. Before you got the truth out of Craven. Now I’m more certain than ever that the Blakes know the answer.”

  She told Maynard what Miles had said about the Lando family. “They had a grudge against Elmore Ravitz. About a stolen Picasso. They sent an assassin to have the Ravitz family killed. A German called Heller. Wolfgang Heller.”

  “So Craven was hand in glove with this Lando family? That’s why he covered for them?”

  “I don’t think so, Bill, I think Craven an
d the Landos are more like enemies brought together by circumstance. Craven had to cover for them because they were involved with the same cartel as Craven in Mexico. If they went down, Craven went down with them. So he covered for them at the same time as he worked against them.”

  “So little honor between thieves. Tell me, Debbie, what do we know about the German, about Heller?”

  “He almost killed me and James Blake in Austin.”

  “You’ve seen him. You’d recognize him?”

  “Yes, he’s one I’ll never forget.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “We have no idea. What you say about Craven’s false trails is so right, Bill. We haven’t been looking for Heller.”

  “Or taking any special action on the Landos?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, we need to find them. Take them down. Where do we begin?”

  “With Matteo Lando in Sollicciano prison.”

  “I checked. The Italians are saying he’s escaped.”

  “Then we need to start with Miles Blake.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “When I left Tijuana, he headed for Mexico City. For the British Embassy to get travel papers. I guess he’s still there, waiting for them.”

  “We can expedite the documents but we need to get someone out there to him.”

  Debbie sat up in the bed and swung her legs over the side. “I’ll go.”

  “You need to stay here. You need time to recover.”

  “No, Bill, when I say I’m going, I mean it. I need to see this thing through. You know I’m not about to settle for anything less.”

  “Then if you won’t listen to sense, I’ll have to go with you.”

  Chapter 84

  As the mechanism I’d activated from beneath Benito Lando’s coffin clattered to a halt, the opening was waiting. I stepped through. It led into an unlit passageway just wide enough to shuffle along.