The deceiver, p.20
The Deceiver, page 20
“If I were your handler,” she said, “I’d like to think I’d be more open than Ben. And I would be your handler if you came back to us. Are you coming back, Abbie?”
This was a tricky question. The impulse was to say yes because Ollie would more likely agree to meet if she believed Abbie was returning. But would she believe it? Abbie was dead against returning to the fold the last time she and Ollie spoke. A sudden change of heart might make Ollie suspicious.
Rightly so, as it happened.
Abbie settled for the middle ground. “It’s unlikely, but not impossible.”
“How tantalising.”
“I should add that opening up won’t convince me to return, either.”
“But I suppose it can’t hurt?” Ollie mused.
“I wouldn’t have thought so.”
“In that case, I’d love to meet and answer your questions as best I can, so long as you understand that my knowledge is far from complete. There’s plenty I don’t know.”
“Fine by me. Are you free today?”
There was a brief silence. What would Abbie do if Ollie said no? She had no reason to push for a meeting that wouldn’t make Ollie suspicious. If Ollie couldn’t meet today, Abbie would have to move to plan B.
Just as soon as she’d come up with one.
Luckily, it was a non-issue.
“When and where?”
Another question with an answer that could potentially cause problems. Ollie knew where Abbie lived, but Abbie was nowhere near home. She couldn’t confess to being on a mission because explaining why she wanted to meet partway through a time-sensitive life-saving situation would be impossible. There was only one alternative.
“I had a dream a couple of days ago. I saved the subject but am yet to return home. There’s a park near me, though.”
Abbie gave Ollie the location and waited. She had never previously stuck around in a place following the completion of her mission. Her only hope was that Ollie didn’t know this.
“Of course. I’ll make myself available. Five o’clock work for you?”
“It does.”
“Good. See you then.”
They ended the call, and Abbie fell into a padded chair in an empty waiting room a few corridors from where Xylina lay. She wasn’t far from where she’d first met Sammy. Soon after that, she’d helped him drive away the kidnapper she now knew was working for Ben. After that altercation, she’d watched Sammy walk into his sister’s room. She’d considered following. It was incredible now to think how close she’d come to meeting her daughter. What would she have felt if she had? Pity for a young stranger, brutally attacked? Or would she have known? Would it have clicked as soon as she set eyes on the teenager’s face? More importantly, what would happen if she failed to bring Courtney home? How would she live with herself knowing how close she had come to seeing her daughter? Knowing she had missed what might have been her only opportunity to look upon her little girl’s face.
Footsteps, rounding the corner. Abbie dried her eyes and looked up as Sammy approached, determination in his eyes. It faded as he stopped a few feet from her, replaced by indecision.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not particularly.”
He nodded, and Abbie went on.
“I’ve been thinking about Courtney. When I was seventeen, I spent hours and hours trawling through baby name books, trying to pick one for my unborn child. I think I drew up about fifty shortlists and probably considered over a thousand names, but I never considered ‘Courtney’. With good reason.”
It took several seconds for the words to sink in. When they did, Sammy smiled, and the tension in the air seemed to splinter. The situation no longer felt so heavy. Though it undoubtedly was.
He took the padded seat next to her. “I don’t much like it myself.”
They stared at the wall opposite.
“I’m still struggling with all this,” he continued.
“That’s understandable. She’s your sister.”
“Yeah, except she isn’t, is she?” Sammy gave a bitter laugh. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“That one’s easy: you weren’t. Your stepmum was pregnant. She went off to have a baby, and with a baby she returned. Your father told you Courtney was your sister. No one would’ve looked at that child and guessed they weren’t a blood relative.”
“The signs were there.”
“The signs were subtle at best, and you were too close to the situation to pick them up. You had no chance, so stop beating yourself up. Now.”
Sammy glanced at Abbie, and she thought he gave her a grateful smile before turning away.
“You were on the phone with the woman you’re going to kill?”
This time, it was she who glanced at him, although he refused to look back.
“I know it sounds awful,” she said. “I’m tempted to tell you that killing Ollie is the last thing I want to do, but that’s demonstrably untrue. The last thing I want to do is fail to save Courtney. If I have to kill a couple of people to save her, I will.”
“You’ve killed before, haven’t you? That’s what you said to Courtney’s kidnapper.”
Abbie considered dodging this question, but what would be the point?
“This is different.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe Ollie or Blake deserve to die. I don’t expect ever to forgive myself.”
“Don’t do it then.”
Abbie laughed a desperate laugh. “Have you another idea? How else can I save your sister?”
Sammy said nothing, but Abbie sensed something in his silence.
“You have an alternative?”
There was a straightforward answer to this question, but it seemed Sammy was not ready to give it.
“Why did this man take Courtney?”
“You know why.”
“No. I know he wants two people dead, but not why you’re the one he wants to do it.”
“Ah.” Abbie played with her fingers. “Because I promised to keep his daughter safe, and I failed. Blake killed her on Ollie’s orders. An understandable decision. She was a monster, although Ben doesn’t see it that way.”
“Now he wants you to take revenge on them on his behalf?”
“That’s right, and I’m a good choice. As you said, taking lives is nothing I haven’t done before.”
“And if you do, he’ll return Courtney unharmed?”
“That’s the deal.”
“Is he a man of his word?”
“I believe so, but I’d rather not find out. Look, Sammy, I appreciate you don’t know what to think of me, but if you believe there’s a way to save Courtney that doesn’t involve me killing Ollie and Blake, I need to hear it.”
The handsome man with whom she had become quite taken sat at her side and worried over his options. She could see the thoughts racing around his head and knew he was weighing up the pros and cons, deciding what to do for the best.
Eventually, he said, “I still have a horrible feeling you’re playing me.”
“I can understand why that would be.”
“I believe Courtney is your daughter, but I can’t understand why you were here in the first place. You claimed not to know about your link with my sister, yet you happen to arrive right as the truth is about to come out. How can I believe that’s a coincidence? Especially when you add in the arrival of your two friends.”
“Ah, well, their appearance actually does make sense. They have access to Ian’s phone, and Bernard—“
“Yes, yes, whatever. What about you?”
Abbie sighed.
“I can’t explain why I arrived at the perfect time because I don’t understand it myself. You’re not going to like that answer. It won’t help you trust me, but I don’t have time to work for your trust right now. I know you want a reason to throw your lot in with me, but I can’t offer you one. Logic won’t make me seem a reliable ally. You have nothing to work with except your gut. Your options are simple. You take the plunge and let me in on whatever plan you’ve got cooking, or you decide it’s not worth the risk and exclude me. If it’s the latter, I’ll accept that and continue with the plan I’ve got, such that it is. I hope it doesn’t come to that, though. I hope your instinct tells you to take the plunge.”
It was becoming too much for Sammy. He stood from his chair and ran his hands through his hair. Worry tortured his face.
“I don’t know whether you’re a good person,” he said. “But I know for a fact I’m not.”
Abbie said nothing.
“I’ve long hated myself for my dark side. My crueller tendencies.”
“But not today?” Abbie ventured.
“Not today. Today, I think my dark side might help us save Courtney’s life.”
42
Once Lorna had decided to become a sidekick in Abbie’s fight to protect the innocent and destroy the wicked, her imagination kicked into gear. She pictured car chases through narrow streets, shoot-outs in burning buildings, and big bombs with digital displays, counting down to oblivion. Naturally, she would defuse the latter with one-second remaining.
Raring to go, Lorna was thrilled when the doc gave Morgan the all-clear. Soon after, they left his room in search of Abbie and bumped into her in the corridor.
Determined and energised, Lorna didn’t hang around.
“We want to be the good guys. We want to help.” She said this to Abbie, but as she spoke, Abbie’s friend (Sammy, was it?) caught her eye. She remembered him from the previous night. “Hello again. You’re very handsome.”
“Hey.” Morgan nudged her.
“What? I’m just saying. It’s nice to make people feel nice, isn’t it? Moreover, he is very handsome. Look at those eyes and that jawline. You can’t tell me—“
“Lorna,” Abbie cut in. “We’re in a rush.”
“Saving the day,” Lorna said, smiling.
“Saving my daughter.”
“Right, yes.” Lorna threw on a more sombre look. “We want to help.”
After a second’s consideration, Abbie looked at Sammy, who floundered. Lorna supposed that was fair enough. He barely knew Abbie but had decided to trust her. It would be unreasonable to expect him to extend that trust to two more strangers.
Abbie read his discomfort and shook her head at Lorna.
“Not on this errand.”
Lorna felt her face fall. Maybe Morgan’s might have, but he had been glaring at Sammy since Lorna called him handsome.
“I’m sorry,” Abbie said. “We can’t hang around, but you will be able to help. I’ll call you the moment we know what happens next.”
Lorna was upset but would await her opportunity. Before she could say as much, Sammy threw her a bone.
“There is something you can do.”
“Yes, handsome?”
“Hey,” Morgan repeated.
Sammy ignored him. “Could you deliver a message?”
Lorna wanted to be a hero. She had pictured bombs and guns and car chases. What she got was a debate with a frustrated British politician and an incensed Greek ex-model.
“I don’t take orders from people I don’t know,” said Isabel. “I don’t take orders from anyone except the leader of my party. Even then, it’s begrudgingly. If Sammy wanted something from me, he should have had the decency to ask me himself. Not run off with his new girlfriend.”
That was the politician's answer. The ex-model was less verbose.
“Drop-dead.”
Abbie’s revelations about Courtney’s true parentage had dragged Xylina from her catatonia. Between Sammy and Abbie leaving the room and Lorna and Morgan arriving, she’d got up and got dressed. Now, she was waiting to be discharged. There was no love lost between her and Isabel. Lorna figured the politician had only remained with her stepmother because she had believed Sammy would return any minute. Now that Lorna had revealed that was not the case, she was gearing up to leave.
The question was, what would the women do once they left the building?
“You’re both frustrated,” Lorna said, “I get that. You also trust Sammy, and he’s imploring you not to talk to the police. He thinks he can find Courtney.”
“I don’t care what he thinks,” Xylina said.
“Even if he’s wrong, Abbie’s set up a meeting later today with the woman the kidnapper wants her to… deal with. She’ll bring Courtney home.”
“I said I didn’t care what Sammy thought,” said Xylina. “As for that cow… let’s not forget she’s the reason someone took my daughter. I don’t trust her to put it right. I wouldn’t trust her to tie her shoelaces.”
“Well, you should. I’ve seen her tie laces, and I can assure you she’s proficient.”
The joke went down like a lead balloon.
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Isabel said, “Xy’s right. We don’t know Abbie, so we can’t trust her. Maybe Sammy does, but I think we can agree that he’s not thinking with his head when it comes to the sexy stranger.”
“She is pretty sexy,” Lorna agreed. “Almost as sexy as me, wouldn’t you say, Morg?”
“Uhhhh… Almost.”
“Whoever she is,” said Isabel, “we know someone took Courtney because of her. That’s valuable information. We must inform the police.”
“Even if it risks Courtney’s life?”
“Her life’s already at risk. I trust the police more than a woman I don’t know.”
Lorna opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again. Isabel had crossed her arms and seemed resolute in her assertions. Lorna guessed that reasoned debate would not get her the result she wanted.
“I’ve had enough.” Xylina had gathered her belongings. “I’m going to see my husband, then calling the police.”
Lorna watched her march towards the door. The meeting was slipping through her fingers. She had imagined car chases and shoot-outs, but Abbie had started her out small. One little job, and she had failed. Now, she’d never be given a chance to defuse a bomb.
Maybe that was for the best.
“What are you doing?”
This was Xylina, and Lorna turned to see Morgan standing in the door frame, blocking the ex-model’s path.
“You can’t go,” he said. “Or call the police. I’m sorry.”
“Get out of my way.”
Thoughts of failure continued to rear their ugly head, and as Lorna turned from Isabel to Xylina, her mind churned, seeking a solution.
It came as she met Morgan’s eye.
“We have to let her go,” she said. “If she wants to talk to the police, she can.”
“Thank you for seeing sense,” Xylina said. But Morgan didn’t move, and Isabel was not so quick to accept that Lorna was giving in to their demands.
“You’ll let us talk to the cops?”
“We’ll all go,” Lorna said. “We can add any context you might miss.”
“There it is,” Isabel said.
Xylina twisted to her stepdaughter. “There what is?”
“The threat.”
“What threat?”
Isabel glanced at Lorna, and Lorna was sure there was a hint of begrudging respect in the politician’s eyes.
“Lorna’ll let you see the police, but she’s coming.”
“So?”
Rolling her eyes, Isabel looked to Lorna, who picked up the conversation’s reins.
“You want to help the police find Courtney by telling them Abbie is the reason she’s missing. The cops will want to know why she’s to blame, and I’m prepared to tell them.”
“I don’t know—“ Xylina stopped, her eyes widening as the truth sank in
“They’ll need to know of Courtney’s true parentage,” Lorna confirmed. “Oh, I suppose they’ll be curious to know how you came to raise Abbie’s daughter. Maybe I’ll let you lead on that one.”
“Courtney is my daughter.” These words came out low and ice-cold.
“The police will want to carry out their enquiries on that matter.”
“You can’t threaten me,” Xylina lied. “Courtney’s my daughter. Any investigation will show that. However long it takes.”
“It won’t take long. Once Courtney’s home, the cops will insist on a maternity test. You’ll be unable to refuse.”
Lorna had no idea if this was what the police would do, but Xylina bought the story. Her rage continued building, but Lorna could tell it was an impotent fury. It would go nowhere but inward. As it stood, it looked like it might make the ex-model sick.
Lorna decided to press her advantage.
“Morgan. Fetch the police.”
Xylina’s anger was paralysing. She said nothing, nor did she move. It was Isabel who spoke.
“That’s enough.” Her eyes flicked from Lorna to Xylina. The women disliked each other, but Lorna wondered if that was a flicker of sympathy she saw in the stepdaughter’s eyes. Her next words seemed to confirm this.
“Maybe we can wait a couple of hours. What do you say, Xy? Might it be worth trusting Sammy a while longer?”
This was a get-out-of-jail-free card. The ex-model saw that and grabbed it with both hands.
“A couple more hours. For Sammy. Not for that woman.”
“Great.” Lorna fought the urge to gloat. “What should we do in the meantime?”
Isabel and Xylina glared at Lorna.
Morgan said, “How about a game of charades?”
Which was great because it meant the women stopped glaring at Lorna and glared at him instead.
43
After their brief conversation with Lorna and Morgan, Abbie and Sammy rushed to the carpark. She drove. He tried to navigate while growing more apprehensive with every mile covered.
Was he really about to show Abbie the worst part of himself?
“I suppose I’m set to discover why your bathroom was so clean?”
They had been driving in silence before Abbie asked this. The roads were quiet, and she chanced a glance in his direction. He looked back but couldn’t respond. Fear and guilt had clogged his throat.
Abbie turned back to the road.
