Rooted to the spot he relaxed his grip on the handle and spun round. Hitting him over the head with a giant sledgehammer couldn’t have had any less of an impact. Confusion replaced ordered thought as he struggled to accept the news, refused to accept the news.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I wish it was untrue,” said Catherine. “But she has indeed elected to join the ranks of her old team, Vega One. It is they who possess the missing inventory.”
“Will was a member of Vega One.”
“Yes.”
“Then ask him.”
“And risk him joining them? Tillman had them honed into a highly skilled, professional unit, renowned for their unique camaraderie.”
“John Tillman?”
“Yes, he was their leader.”
“Tell me this is a sick joke,” he said. “You’re asking me to negotiate with a group of professional assassins whose leader I just happened to kill not so long ago. This wouldn’t be a dialogue, more the perfect opportunity for revenge.”
“It was self defence was it not?”
“Somehow I don’t see them happily accepting my version of events.”
“You can be very persuasive.”
“I could also be very dead, very soon.”
Catherine trained her impassionate stare on his face, a look he had long come to associate with the Austrian. The muscles in her face remained fixed, immoveable.
“So you are not discounting the concept?”
Matt shook his head in frustration for allowing the debate to get this far. He was all ready to walk out the door until they mentioned her name.
“Why hasn’t Will said anything of this to me?”
“He does not know it is them. Helen Nash was on her way to talk to him when she was intercepted.”
“Intercepted by whom?”
Catherine’s blank stare suggested she didn’t know.
“Are you telling me there’s another player in this macabre game of yours?”
“None we are aware of.”
“None you are aware of?” he said. “What kind of answer is that supposed to be?”
Marius re-entered the conversation.
“Your reluctance is understandable but, if left unchecked, the situation could become dire with consequences no-one dare to contemplate. Our species is at risk if these people get careless or make a wrong move. It is imperative they are approached by someone they believe they can trust and that person is you, because of your past relationship with Cain. Resent us all you will but in the context of the situation it means nothing and you must put this to one side.”
The last thing he expected to hear from them was a reasoned argument that made sense, almost a plea.
Matt turned and looked onto the garden. A gentle breeze had arisen, evidenced by the lightly moving leaves on the oddly shaped tree. Much as he wanted to snarl in rage at the way they’d manoeuvred him into this situation he couldn’t ignore the dilemma. Matt could feel the rope being pulled, the noose tightening. He couldn’t simply walk away. Not because of these people, but because it was Rosa.
“Crap,” he said.
“Are we to assume this colourful phrase to be your way of signifying your agreement?” said Ameera.
He desperately wanted to turn, reach out, and give her a damn good slapping. He knew he couldn’t.
“The woman is a mother now,” he said. “How could she let herself get drawn into this?”
“Unfortunately not,” said Catherine. “Rosa’s body was unable to complete a full semester. I shall spare you the detail other than to say an old wound she had sustained, a gunshot injury, left her unable to successfully bear children. I fear this is what has disturbed Rosa’s mind and led her to make the decision to join this group.”
An unreal situation became ever more surreal. Tillman’s team had chased both he and Rosa around the globe in the not-too-distant past. She had deserted her colleagues and, for reasons he never fully understood, crossed the divide to help Matt in his initial struggle against the very people in this room. Now, in a peculiar and bizarre twist of fate, his enemies had sought him out to play gamekeeper to Rosa’s poacher. You couldn’t make it up.
Matt shook his head.
“I already have a life. One I want to get back to sooner rather than later.”
“Then a prompt start would help,” said Catherine.
“I can’t go up against Rosa,” he said.
“All we seek is the inventory,” said Ameera.
“They’re hardly likely to just hand it over to me.”
“We seek no retribution so, with good fortune, physical conflict will be unnecessary.”
“Yeah, and the sun will shine for all eternity.”
The ongoing silence seemed to last forever, broken by a sound announcing the arrival of another vehicle.
“Our final guest is here,” said Catherine.
Matt wondered who had arrived. Maybe it was someone from higher up within Catherine’s secret consortium, one of the real powers of their clandestine organisation as he sensed a degree of apprehension amongst the others.
Moments later Francine pushed open the wooden door and a blonde haired man appeared in the threshold. Matt thought he recognised him from somewhere but couldn’t place a name to the gaunt face. Unshaven and with bleary red eyes the man looked troubled, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Catherine rose and pecked to each of the man’s cheeks, touching at his right arm with a slender hand.
“It is good to see you,” she said. “Let me introduce you to the others. This is Ameera Khan and here, Marius Kronk.”
The three exchanged insipid handshakes.
“Ameera and Marius unfortunately were just about to leave us,” said Catherine.
They were as surprised as Matt at the announcement but quickly gathered their belongings to allow the tall Francine to usher them from the room.
“We will talk later,” said Catherine as they departed.
She turned her attention back to the remaining men.
“Let us sit,” she said. “And I shall advise you as to what has been discussed so far.”
Matt took one of the hard backed chairs. The other guy looked as though he needed some comfort.
“Stefan, this is Matt, Matt Durham”
The new arrival’s worried eyes darted aside, widening at the introduction of the name, and Matt remembered where he had seen this man before. The groom at Rosa’s wedding.
“What is he doing here?” asked Stefan.
The room fell into an uneasy silence. They had never been formally introduced, Matt’s only previous sighting being through a camera lens. While he knew he wasn’t the easiest of guys in the world to get along with this constant hostility was getting beyond a joke. Catherine broke the silence.
“I have asked Matt to consider helping us locate Rosa.”
“I do not want his help.”
“That’s okay, I haven’t agreed to anything yet,”
“Stefan, please,” said Catherine. “Put your worry to one side for the moment and let me explain.”
A trembling hand tried to brush loosely hanging hair away from his forehead. The man was on edge, confidence shredded by recent events.
“I have taken all possible measures, left no stone unturned, in the search for Rosa,” said Catherine.
“Every possible measure?” he spat. “And yet you involve this man?”
“Rosa has rejected all attempts at communication. This is why I have asked Matt to help. I believe Rosa will listen to him, and that he will be able to persuade her to return.”
“How can I trust him to do the right thing?”
The naked animosity intrigued Matt.
“Why shouldn’t you trust me?”
Another failed attempt to sweep away his dishevelled hair highlighted Stefan’s inability to control his trembling hand. Lips shivering with fear he looked Matt in the eye and this time held his gaze.
“When a wif
e talks with affection of another man you can be sure it is not because they shared the same tram ride to work every morning.”
Tears filled the eyes of the distraught, pathetic wreck. If Matt could ever be certain of one thing in life, it was that this man lived for his wife. From what little information he had Matt understood him to be a confident and somewhat arrogant professional consultant to the great and the good. Strange what human emotion can do to a person, he thought, gazing at the now sorry frame of this almost broken man. He glanced awkwardly towards Catherine.
“Matt is undecided,” she said. “He must weigh up the risks and the needs and wishes of his loved ones in Canada.”
The blonde haired man fixed a tearful stare on Matt’s face.
“You have a family of your own?”
“I have a partner.”
The stare intensified. Matt couldn’t be sure what thoughts occupied Stefan’s mind other than they appeared vague and erratic, judging by the variety of twitching muscles dotted around his face.
“I understood you were in love with Rosa, that you slept with her and were lovers.”
Matt unconsciously blinked but managed to hold the man’s pitiful stare.
“Why would you think that?”
“Rumour, in the village,” he replied.
“Then I would suggest that’s all it is, rumour. Rosa and I were thrown together at a time of crisis, some years ago, and a bond formed between us because of it. But it is a bond of friendship and nothing more.”
A pained expression surfaced, criss-crossing repeatedly over the man’s face. His head dropped into the cover of his hands and the shoulders began to shake.
“I am a fool, such a lost and stupid fool,” he mumbled repeatedly.
Matt noticed Catherine’s left eyebrow arch sharply in what appeared open disdain.
“Stefan,” she said softly. “You must think of what is best for Rosa.”
Stefan lifted his head and tried to hold Matt’s steady gaze with pleading eyes.
“I’m sorry, so very sorry,” he said.
Matt could have made an effort to offer reassurance to the trembling wretch by signalling his intent to get involved in the search for Rosa Cain. He chose no such path.
“No need to apologise.”
Fighting back the tears was an obvious struggle for this once proud man. Somehow he managed to keep it together, long enough to utter his next phrase.
“I know I have no right to ask after what I have said. But will you help to find Rosa?”
Matt decided this man to be a decent sort of guy. Anyone so blindingly devoted to Rosa had to have the odd redeeming feature. He glanced at Catherine’s impassive face, knowing she had planned to play this card from the outset.
“The car is due to return soon. Perhaps you should leave us to negotiate further, Stefan,” she said. “See if we can reach an agreement.”
“Yes, yes of course,” he replied.
Stefan stumbled rather than walked to where Francine awaited, ready to show him outside. He hesitated then turned sharply, mouth prepared to speak again. Francine gripped at his forearm and tugged him towards her, unceremoniously showing him the door. Matt waited until he was out of sight before returning his attention to Catherine.
“You cunning, conniving …”
“Six o’ clock,” she said, interrupting his flow. “It is time for the evening meal.”
Chapter Seven
Small Hands, Tiny Feet