His Secret Desire (5 page)

"Not a problem. Although somehow, I doubt
it."

He leaned in to kiss her but she drew
away.

"And none of that." She said. "If we're going
to talk business then let's keep it strictly business. I don’t mix
business and pleasure."

"That's a big mistake." He smiled that sexy
half smile. "Dress comfortably. We're eating at my place not at
Jean Jacques in Manhattan. I don’t want my guest of honor to feel
uptight about anything."

"I never get uptight." The remark was so
ridiculous that after a moment of silence both of them laughed.

"Sure." He said. "I'll see you later Ms.
Maldon. Anything you need in the meantime, just give me a call. You
have my card." He smiled that smile again.

*******************

After Clayton left, Katy set to cleaning up
the mess they had made during their 'almost' moment of passion. She
shook her head as she swept up the remaining shards of porcelain,
hardly believing what had just occurred. She filled the dustpan
with broken pieces and then stopped. She was right at the spot
where he had put his hand around her waist and drawn her to him. It
seemed bizarre, unreal and yet he had really done that. This guy
was something else. A real piece of work. Before she had gotten in
trouble and then entered the Witness Protection Program she had
been in a relationship with a nice guy, but God, nothing they had
ever done together had felt as exciting as this and they hadn't
even gotten fully naked, let alone had sex. In all of her
relationships she had always been in control, always called the
shots and she liked it that way.

Do I? Do I really?
She asked herself.
If that was the case then why was this particular man and his
controlling, bossy attitude to sex so damn, impossibly
thrilling?

She looked at her watch. It was 5.15pm. She
had noticed Clayton looking at her in the café at about 2.30pm. In
under three hours this guy had dug up and guessed more truth about
her than any human being in the last three years and had rocked her
tightly controlled world to the foundations.

She had to find out who the hell he was.

She put the dustpan down and went to her
laptop.

Within minutes she had more information than
she needed. Clayton Hargrave was obviously a very public man and
exactly the kind of person who needed her services. He was
surrounded by controversy with women, with corporate lawsuits on
patent infringement, usually with him being the initiator and with
press, waiting like vultures for him and his brother Dale to step
out of line. No wonder Dale had contacted her today. It couldn’t be
a co-incidence, he was lying to her about just coming across her by
accident in the café; he had to be there checking her out before
his big brother made the call.

Whatever the story, they were both of the new
breed of young, high tech billionaires. Unlike their contemporaries
however, these guys were no geeks. Clayton and Dale were as hot as
they came, each in their own unique way. Although self-made,
Clayton looked as though he had been born to money from another
age. Nearly every picture showed him sporting hand cut suits of
European cut like some sort of James Bond 007 CEO. His older
brother Dale was more the macho all-American type; much more
dressed down, rough and ready with a kind of Texas rancher chic.
Not that he looked like a rich hic, not at all; the raw
intelligence in his eyes showed he was much, more than that and his
incredible good looks would have allowed him a career in modeling.
There was another man who often appeared with them, also young,
extremely good-looking but quite enigmatic in his association with
them. His style was more urban and he would have looked equally at
home in an exclusive New York night spot or rubbing shoulders with
movie stars in the Hollywood Hills.

Their company wasn't just any old company
either and she was surprised she didn't know more about them
considering her business. Obviously they liked to keep a low
profile but it was clearly getting harder with the increased media
attention the impossibly good-looking trio were attracting. These
guys weren't gray, boring Warren Buffet style money machines,
waiting idly for blue chip stocks to turn over and go up in value
but neither were they geeky, pale skinned code warriors turned
good. These guys were serious boys with toys. The kind of toys the
military were interested in and the kind that changed lives at the
cutting edge of medical technology.

"No wonder he was edgy about my noticing his
glass." She murmured.

She decided to call Suzy, her old friend and
information specialist. They had known each other for a long time
and Suzy Falstaff was the only person from her old life who knew
for sure that she was still alive. They had grown up side by side
and then studied engineering together; the only two girls in a
class of over one hundred socially challenged guys. Suzy had always
been interested in ethical hacking and she was very, very good at
what she did. When Katy needed information on someone beyond an
internet search then Suzy was her point of contact. If her girl
couldn't get the dirt then nobody could.

She found her secure Blackphone, routed it
through her clean laptop and then zigzagged the call through
several continents via her personal, customized VPN technology. If
Clayton Hargrave could track this call he would be a whole lot
smarter than her and good as he was, she still doubted that. She
had to, or why even bother putting up a fight?

"What's going on?" The friendly voice at the
other end greeted her, the sound of her Golden Retriever, Redmond
barking happily in the background.

"Information." Katy said. It was enough to
let Suzy know that things were serious.

"Who is it?" One of the first thing Katy did
with any new client was a background check so she assumed this was
what she wanted.

"Clayton Hargrave."

"Of Hargrave Robotics?"

"You've heard of him?"

"Who hasn't?" She turned to her dog and loyal
friend who had just come in from the beach. "Pipe down Redmond, I'm
speaking here." The dog went quiet. He knew not to interfere in his
owner's business. She turned back to her phone. "Not everyone lives
like a hermit you know. Are you going to be working with him?"

"Come on, you know better than that. No
details. Just get me whatever you can on him and then send it via
the usual channel."

"Ouch. No problem boss." She said with a
twang of playful sarcasm. "Did you run out of coffee this morning
or something?"

Katy looked at the smashed coffee pot on the
floor. Caffeine and good coffee beans were her one addiction. That
and her obsession with secrecy.

"You could say that." She said with an
involuntary smirk that annoyed her and quickly left her face.

"Hmmm, mysterious as always. Don't sweat it
boss, I'll have information within the hour. Just hang tight."

"I'm not tight." She said quite
ridiculously.

"Uh… whatever. I'll be in touch. Look, just
remember, stay low, stay clean--"

"Leave no trace, I know, I know. Don’t worry.
Call me when you have something."

She ended the call. Suzy was used to her
friend being moody and it didn’t bother her. She let a lot of
things slide for old time's sake, not only because her old friend
was a very well paying client, but also because she had to imagine
that living like a dead person for years on end would leave you
feeling more than a little grumpy at times. Not to say lonely.
Hell, sometimes the secrecy even got to her as well, especially
when mutual acquaintances talked about what a great girl Nadia, her
friend's original name,
had
been.

Katy finished cleaning up the mess and went
to put more coffee on before realizing she had no cups to drink
from and no coffee pot to make it in.

Shit. Screw you Hargrave. Men and sex.
Such animals.
She smiled again and wiped it quickly from her
face. Again.

She fished a stainless steel saucepan out of
the cupboard and a glass tumbler from the cabinet. They would have
to do because she seriously needed caffeine.

It wasn't quite dark yet, although the autumn
sunshine was fast fading in the early evening. The silent flash of
blue and red lights that filled the house sent fear snaking down
Katy's spine.

"What the hell has that asshole done now?"
She hissed as she looked around to see if anything in her home was
obviously out of the ordinary.

She heard footsteps approach her front door
and her heart began to pound. It had been a long, long time since
she had had anything to do with the police. When the doorbell went
she jumped, even though she has seen clearly seen the officer
approach through the a small panel of frosted glass.

She didn’t move.

"Open up it’s the police."

Shit.

There was no point in running. She knew that.
The face of the young officer was pressed close up against the
glass, scanning the interior of the house for signs of life.

"It's the police." He said. "Can you open the
door please?"

She went to the door like a dead woman
walking. Was this it?

Stay calm Katy, stay calm. It's probably
just a misunderstanding.

She opened the door and struggled to smile,
but her mouth wouldn’t move. Another of the consequences of living
like a recluse; loss of basic social skills.

"Good evening officer, what can I do for
you?"

He peered inside before answering.

"May we come in?"

"Uh, sure, please do." She stepped aside and
the good looking young man brushed past her followed by a stern
looking female cop. They looked around her bare living room and
kitchen area as though it were a crime scene.

"Been living here long ma'am?" The male
officer asked. His badge said Officer Hardy.

"No, not long. In fact I've just moved
in."

"Is that so?" Officer Smity, the female cop
said.

"That's right. Just last week."

"Can I see some ID?"

"Sure, sure thing." Katy found her wallet and
produced her driver's license.

"Ms. Katherine Maldon. State of California."
He said, as though her name and the state of issue were both highly
incriminating. He handed the license back to her. "We got a report
of a disturbance up here." He said.

Officer Smity began walking around the living
room.

"Well, it must be a mistake." Katy said. "I
live alone up here and there's nothing going on. I just went out
for a run earlier and then came back to make coffee and do some
work before going to bed."

"Did you have any visitors today ma'am?"
Officer Hardy asked.

This was it. Twelve months of anonymity and
peace ruined. Should she lie? Her relationships with clients were
strictly confidential, but then again, no client had ever placed a
tracking device on her and followed her to her home.

"No sir." She said. "None at all."

"Did you have a little accident earlier?" The
female officer asked from the kitchen area, looking into her trash
can where the broken coffee pot and cups were piled up. The remains
of two coffee cups.

Shit.
Katy thought.

"That's right, actually I did have a visitor
earlier. Sorry about that. An old friend. We were having
coffee."

Officer Hardy put his hand to his weapon.
"I'm getting confused here ma'am. Did you have a visitor or didn't
you?"

Katy faltered. Her expertise was electronic
privacy. Lying to the cops face to face was far, far outside her
comfort zone.

"Who's Clayton Hargrave?" Officer Smity
asked, picking up Clayton's business card from the counter top. It
was the only damn thing that hadn't hit the floor when impulse had
momentarily overcome them.

"He's… he's an old friend." She said.

"An old friend who left you his business
card?"

Shit, shit, shit.

"That's right. We kind of lost contact with
each other and he looked me up again. I haven't seen him in years.
Then my stupid cat came along and knocked over the coffee pot and
cups from the counter top and that was that."

Hardy and Smity exchanged a glance.

"Where is Mr. Hargrave now?" Hardy asked.

"He left. We agreed to meet up again
later."

Hardy waited for a moment until Smity had
joined him again. Katy fixed a nervous smile on her face.

"Okay ma'am. That about wraps it up. You have
a nice day." Neither of the officers smiled.

"You too officer." Katy said and then
escorted them to the door.

"By the way officer," she added as they got
into the patrol car, "who called in the report of a
disturbance?"

"That's confidential ma'am. You have a nice
day." Officer Hardy rolled up his window and pulled away down the
deserted road. Katy looked around the surrounding hills and
woodlands. There wasn't a visible neighbor anywhere for miles
around.

As soon as the cop car went out of view Katy ran from
the house and scrambled into the woods behind her house. She kept
her getaway pack hidden under a shallow layer of dirt and some
rocks. It had everything she would need to get out of town. One
hundred thousand dollars in cash, her Sig Sauer P220 compact - a
low caliber semi-automatic pistol designed for self-defense rather
than to put a huge hole in someone - credit cards and fake IDs for
various states of the USA.

The only other items she would need were her
clean laptop, secure Blackphone, smart watch and various other
small items of electronic privacy hardware. She would melt away and
stay low for a while, a few months maybe or even a year. She could
spend the time trying to hunt down her birth father, a project that
never left her mind but for which she had never been able to find
the time.

Now she could do that; find some damn closure
in a life so ragged with loose ends.