The Lucifer Network (40 page)

Then came the conversation Sam had already heard. He listened again to the way she'd led Schenk down the path that he'd asked her to pursue.

The slaps to her face when they came had a digital crispness, as did her cries for him to stop. He heard Schenk ripping into the blazer lining, the snap of the transmitter wire, the straining to pull the microphone from its cable.

‘Why you do this? Who is this for?'

Another slap when she didn't answer.

‘You will tell me . . .'

Julie gasped as Schenk did something unspeakable to
her. She began to cry, then between gulps spat out her reply.

‘For me! It's for me, Max. I was going to blackmail you. For money . . .'

Sam closed his eyes in admiration and humility. She could so easily have said that she'd been forced into it, but instead she'd covered up for him.

Two more smacks followed.

‘You
greedy
bitch.
' Schenk's voice was acid-edged.
‘Greedy
like
your
shit
father
. .
.
'

The words hit like a punch to the stomach. Sam stopped breathing.

‘My
father,
' Julie gasped.
‘So
you
did
. . .
'

‘Yes. Yes, it was your father who told me all about you.'

Sam stared at the crumpled figure on the bed and understood her despair.

‘He gave you to me. You can have her, he said. I will help you get her.'

Sam put his head in his hands.

‘You
remember
those
conference
papers?
' Schenk's relentless voice continued.
‘You
leave
them
in
the
restaurant
when
you
have
dinner
with
your
father
and
Linda.
After
you
go
upstairs
he
comes
looking
for
me
in
the
bar
and
gives
them
to
me.
Play
your
cards
right
and
she'll
do
a
number
for
you,
he
said.
His
words,
Julie.
His
own
words.
Your
own
pimp
father.
'

‘No
. . .
' she whimpered.
‘This
isn't
true
. .
.
'

‘He said you look for a new relationship. Something uncomplicated with an older man with money who will be nice to you. He tell me about your past affairs. All those useless young men. He tell me what you didn't like and what you did. He told me what interest you.'

‘I
don't
believe
you,
' Julie moaned, but Sam could hear that she did.
‘Why?
' she howled.
‘Why
would
he
do
that?
'

‘Business,
Julie.
As I just
tell
you.
You
and
me,
our
relationship
has
always
been
business,
nothing
more.
He . . . your
father – I was
buying
something
from
him.
His
price
was
too
high. I make
him
come
lower,
but
not
low
enough.
Then
he
say
he
will
fix
it
for
me
to
have
you
as
my
mistress.
As
part
of
the
deal.
Like
the
salesman
gives
you
the
sun-roof
when
you
buy a car.'

‘It's not true . . .'
she repeated, so low Sam could barely hear.

‘I
didn't
believe
it
also,
' the Austrian answered in a bitter chuckle.
‘I
thought
it
was
a
joke.
Or
some
trick
and
you
were
part
of
it.
Then
when
we
talk
in
the
bar,
I
realise
how
innocent
you
are,
Julie.
So
naïve.
Everything
he
tell
me
about
you
was
right.
He
made
it
so
easy
for
me.
You
were
so
ready
for
someone
like
me.
You
remember
how
long
it
was
before
we
went
to
your
room
?
Forty
minutes,
Julie.
Forty
minutes
after
we
first
speak
we
have
our
first
fuck.
'

Sam bit his lip, willing her to have the strength to ask the vital question – what it was that Schenk had bought from Harry Jackman.

But a new sound began to swamp the recording. A thin, high howl like an animal in pain. The awfulness of what her father had done had broken through. Then came the clatter of a fight. Schenk firing off German expletives. More smacks. Grunts and stifled screams, then finally the crash of the door breaking in and Sam's voice shouting.

He pulled off the headset.

Julie
knows.

She did now. Knew that the man who'd been her lover for the past twelve months had done business with her father. And something far worse than that – she'd learned the depths to which her father would sink to achieve his ends.

Sam looked up and let out the breath that he seemed
to have been holding for ever. Julie had raised herself onto one elbow and was staring at him, her eyes blurs of bewilderment.

‘Julie,' he croaked. ‘I heard it, love. Heard it all.' He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. ‘I'm so sorry.'

Sorry.
A useless word. Always inadequate. A word with no power to reveal the feelings behind it.

He tried to think of something to say which might ease the pain of discovering that the man she'd spent a lifetime trying to please had sold her like a bag of sweets. But, if such words existed, they weren't in his vocabulary.

Slowly and stiffly, Julie swung her legs round until she was sitting next to him. She turned to face him, her eyes begging for answers.

‘Am I really worth so little, Sam?'

He took hold of her hand. It was feverishly hot.

‘No, Julie. You're worth millions,' he told her. ‘The whole fucking bank.'

He moved closer and touched his mouth against her swollen lips. She flinched from the pain, but hooked an arm round his neck, resting her forehead against his.

‘Could you please turn the lights out,' she whispered. ‘I'd prefer it if you can't see me.'

They sat without moving, digesting the thought of what was about to happen.

‘I will,' he answered eventually, ‘but you'll have to let go of me first.'

Reluctantly she uncurled her hand from the back of his head. He turned off the switch by the door, leaving the room bathed in the soft orange glow of the street light that was filtering through the net curtains.

When he returned to the bed she was lying on it. He
knelt beside her and she took his hand and slipped it under her shirt.

‘Will you show me, Sam? Show me what you think I'm worth?'

He leaned down and kissed her neck just below the mole that was half hidden by the lobe of her ear. Then as he freed her from her clothes piece by piece, he kissed the rest of her feverish body until it began to move and sway like a field of corn.

AT VIENNA'S INTERNATIONAL
airport the departure hall was seething. Sam stood to one side of the check-in desks, studying every face within pistol range as Julie presented her ticket. First thing, he'd switched her to an earlier flight from the one Schenk had booked her on. He was taking no chances. The last thing in the world he could allow to happen was for the killers who'd eliminated two of those who'd known about Jackman's sinister deal to turn it into a hat trick.

Julie's suitcase disappeared down the conveyor and she returned to Sam's side with her boarding pass in her hand and her handbag over her shoulder. Thick make-up covered her bruises. They walked without speaking towards the Departures sign. She'd been lost in thought that morning, hardly exchanging more than a dozen words with him. Just before the barrier, she stopped and touched his arm.

‘There's something I want to say,' she whispered, turning to him. Her eyes were as dead as stone and stayed focused on the middle of his chest.

‘Okay,' he replied. But nothing came. She seemed to be trying to pluck up the courage. ‘What is it?'

She bit her lip. ‘It's this. I'm glad that my father's dead.' She said it without any emotion. A statement of cold fact. Slowly she lifted her head and looked him in the eye. ‘Glad because it means he can't betray me any more. And,' she added, letting out a long sigh, ‘if the same thing were to happen to Max . . . I wouldn't mind at all.' One of her thin eyebrows lifted, then she turned away.

Sam swallowed uncomfortably. She was telling him that if he had after all orchestrated the death of her father and were to mete out the same treatment to Max Schenk, she would consider it a service to mankind. He reached out an arm, intending to put her straight, then decided there was little point.

Julie glanced towards the passport check. Although eager to get away from Vienna, she was dreading saying goodbye to Sam. Having made him a part of her life last night, she had a horrible feeling he would lose interest in her now she'd delivered Max to him.

‘I'd better go through.' She turned back to face him, taking hold of the hands that had caressed her back to sanity last night. ‘Do you . . . d'you know when you'll be back in London?'

‘No.'

She searched his eyes for some clue as to what he was thinking, but found nothing. The blank mask of a man who seldom gave anything away.

‘Will I . . . will I see you again?' she asked plaintively.

‘Would you like to?'

‘What do
you
think . . .?' She fingered the lapel of his jacket.

He kissed her mouth, careful to avoid the part of her lip that was split. ‘Then you will,' he murmured.

‘
Au
revoir,
then.' She backed away.

‘I'll ring you. Take care of yourself.'

Sam watched her disappear through the security barrier, then turned towards the exit doors. There was nothing more he could do to ensure her safety and he had to move on.

Earlier he'd phoned Collins to alert him to the fact that Schenk
had
done business with Jackman. The station chief would soon be at the Embassy, wanting a full rundown on last night before he contacted the Austrian authorities.

As he walked out towards the taxi rank, Sam was remembering the intensity of Julie's hunger for him last night. The first sexual climax when they'd joined their bodies had been quick for both of them, a cathartic release of the tension that had wound them as tight as clock springs. Later, after they'd sated themselves further, Julie had clung on as if he were the only thing in her life preventing her from sinking. They'd fallen asleep bodies touching, but she'd stirred many times in the night, crying out unintelligibly.

When they'd awoken this morning she'd been awkward with him, as if embarrassed at the weakness she'd shown in the face of Max's revelations. She'd used the bathroom first, spending a while fixing her face. Some time later, when Sam emerged from it after shaving, he'd caught her looking through his file on Günther Hoffmann, which he'd left in his suitcase. The lid had been open. She'd turned quickly away, pretending not to have seen anything and he hadn't pursued it.

It was obvious she hadn't wanted to talk this morning, so he'd turned the TV on, finding Sky News. The saga of the Albanian refugee family was continuing. The camera crew had followed them to Germany where they'd been received without much enthusiasm in some northern town whose name he didn't catch.

Outside the terminal there were half a dozen people queuing for taxis but no shortage of cars. He slipped onto
the back seat of a cream Mercedes and gave the driver the Embassy's address in Jauresgasse.

Sam wasn't at all sure what to make of Julie. A part of him was a little in love with her, another part felt pity. What he
was
certain of was that their coitus last night had fulfilled him in a way that he hadn't experienced for some considerable time.