Behind the Facade (20 page)

Harry rubbed his chin, still
apparently reluctant to divulge more. He assessed Michael carefully. Then he
seemed to make up his mind and abruptly stated. “Four years ago, Katherine was
kidnapped.”

Michael inhaled a shocked breath.
“What?” he managed to stutter.

“I know, I know” Harry said, shaking
his head. “Inconceivable isn’t it? I’m her father, I should have protected her.
It’s eaten away at me that it ever happened. It’s killed me that the
misbegotten son of a bitch who did it was never found. I should have given her
retribution.”

He grimaced and gathered himself, as
if trying to contain a physical pain.

“Presumably the motive was money, was
it?”

“Well, whatever he was after, he never
got the chance to demand a ransom or blackmail me, did he?” Harry boasted,
pleased to be able to salvage a measure of pride from at least one aspect of
the affair.

“She’d have only been nineteen,”
commented Michael, almost to himself. “She must have been terrified. Was she
hurt?”

This question elicited strong emotion
in Harry and his mood slumped again. He turned his head away, but not before
Michael perceived a wetness developing in his eyes. “I should have protected
her,” he repeated in a whisper.  He managed to compose himself and when he
turned back to face Michael, the wetness was still there but it glimmered with
anger. “She was left in a coma.”

“My God!” exclaimed Michael. “What
happened?”

“Kate doesn’t remember much. When she
came out of the coma, she was confused. She’s never fully recalled the events
beforehand, whether through brain injury or unconscious suppression, we’ve
never been truly sure.  Nevertheless, it’s still a story I should allow
her to tell you. That’s if you still want to know?” Harry eyed him, checking
for any sign he was now repulsed by the idea of a relationship with his damaged
daughter.

“Of course,” Michael said without
hesitation.
“ It
doesn’t change my feelings towards
her, but why are you telling me this now Harry?”

“There’s been a development. I need
you to look at something. Give me your thoughts.”  He then gestured for
Michael to join him at the other side of the desk. “Bring your chair,” he
suggested.  As Michael obliged, Harry made sure they would not be
interrupted by instructing his secretary accordingly.

Michael was silent whilst Harry showed
him the footage. As it came to a close, Michael looked perplexed.

Harry saw his puzzlement and quickly
elucidated, “I’m positive the chap on this recording is the son of a bitch
responsible.”

Michael sat back, stunned. “Is this a
recent recording?”

Harry explained all that he knew about
it, including Williamson’s unexpected demise. “I don’t understand,” said
Michael. “Why would this man risk exposure like this now, after four years?
Aren’t you placing too much store in his name?”

 “No, I’m right about him. I feel
it in my gut.” Harry asserted, immediately putting paid to any debate on the
issue.  “I’m not prepared to let this bastard slip out of my grasp again.
I was thinking of asking Kate to look at the video.”

“What? No!”

Harry was visibly surprised by such a
strong reaction, retreating into his seat, perturbation knotting his face.

Michael saw this and, not wishing to
offend Harry, quickly followed up with.  “Even if it does prompt her to
remember something, it might be too much of a shock. It could trigger a mental
breakdown instead. Why cause her unnecessary distress?”

Harry opened his mouth, inclined to
argue it was worth the risk, but then closed it again debating. “You think I’m
wrong don’t you?
That I’d be upsetting her for nothing?”

“Even if you’re right Harry, how’s it
going to help? She’s unlikely to recognise him after so long. ”

Harry sighed. “I suspect you’re right.
The potential harm to Kate doesn’t justify it. It’s just so frustrating!” His
fists clenched but then relaxed.

“He was careful to leave little
forensic evidence behind at Williamson’s, but now at least I have a record of
his face. I have a lead. I had very little before. Sebastian may as well have
been brain damaged as well. He was worse than useless, as were the police,
although admittedly they weren’t in possession of all the facts. This time, the
worm won’t stay missing for long, believe me. I have a long and pervasive
reach.”

“Sebastian?” queried Michael, picking
up on the reference to his rival.

“I’d mentioned we owed him a debt? We
do. He rescued Kate and then saved her life, but he managed to balls up the
easy part by allowing her kidnapper to escape.”

Michael grunted in sympathetic
disgust. “Were there no other witnesses?”

“None that could
identify him.
He wasn’t stupid. He made
sure of it. He murdered his girlfriend, to guarantee her silence. Robert,
Kate’s fiancé at the time, was knocked out and didn’t see his attacker.”

“
Hmh
….That’s
a little convenient, isn’t it?”

Harry looked up at him, in surprise.
“Excuse me?”

Michael remained quiet for a moment,
mulling over a possibility.
“This Robert.
You sure
he’s trustworthy? Where were they when Kate was abducted? Somewhere isolated, I
take it?”

Harry’s expression
distorted into something resembling a beached fish, as he grappled with the
revelation that these words inspired.
“I
screwed up,” he muttered, indignant with himself. “It was Robert who insisted
they return to an empty office,” he revealed. “His actions weren’t something I
ever thought to question. Not when he’d ended up in hospital.”

“I believe you have yourself another
lead.”

Harry’s
discombobulated face unravelled, and he smiled. “I knew I was right to share
this with you, Mick. You’ve picked up on something we’d missed.

           
“Glad to be of service,” Michael replied. “In return, all I ask is that, when
you find him, you allow me to give him a piece of my mind, so to
speak.”         

           
“I doubt there’ll be much left of him, once I’ve finished with him, but you’ll
be welcome to make your contribution. Now,” said Harry, “what was it you were
saying about the Americans?”

           
Michael finished the rundown of his exploits in the States and Harry
congratulated him on the progress he had made. Once they’d ironed out some of
the finer, commercial, details of setting up the sister establishment in
America, Michael rose to leave. He was about to open the door, when Harry
forestalled him with an “Oh, and Mick?”

Michael turned back. “There’s someone
else who’s looking forward to seeing you, now that you’re back.” His heart
sank. He had hoped Harry would not make any allusion to him contacting his daughter.
He was weary from the long-haul flight and had made up his mind that their
relationship should go no further. It had been a relief to be away from her and
the worrying influence she had gained over his heart.

“I’ll call her,” he promised, in order
to humour Harry.

“You’d better. She knew when you were
due back and has kept a keen note of it.”

He supressed a groan.
“I’d have thought she’d have much better things to do with her
time,” he commented.

“Aren’t you the lucky one? Here,”
Harry passed him a still of the face, caught on Williamson’s cameras. “When you
judge the time is right, I’d appreciate if you’d see if this face means
anything to her. I know you’ll handle it sensitively.”

He nodded, tried on what he hoped
would pass for a smile and, scooping up the photograph, he left.

Harry remained ruminating on their
discussion
..
He murmured to himself, “Her ex.
Could
he really be involved?
Maybe.
After all, wouldn’t any burglar worth his salt break-in during the early hours
of the morning, not at 9 o’clock at night, now he thought about it? What if the
kidnap had been arranged?” He needed to take a closer look at Mr Robert
Spencer. He lifted up the phone and directed, “Get me Sebastian on the line,
and fast.”

Once his secretary had established the
connection, without any form of salutation, he barked, “Sebastian, get back
now. I need you to track down Robert Spencer and bring him in for questioning.”

After listening to Sebastian’s reply
for a second, he cut in with “It’s not your place to ask questions. Now get
back here!”

 Michael sat in his car across
the road, gazing up at Kate’s flat. He kneaded at his eyeballs, he hadn’t slept
much recently, and then
steepled
his hands against
his mouth, blowing heavily in and out, his agitation betraying his uncertainty.
He’d ignored her call but she’d left a voicemail, saying she’d like to see him
and would be available around seven tonight if he fancied something to eat?

She couldn’t be certain he’d got the
message. It was already past seven. Wouldn’t it be better all-round if he stood
her up? He’d quenched the flames of his passion for her, hadn't he? And hadn’t
he done enough damage already? But his gaze was caught by a flicker of movement
at the window of her flat and he could see Kate, her figure softly haloed by
the golden light behind her.
He watched as she lifted a hand to
her hair and brushed it behind her ears in a habitual gesture and his heart
stuttered in his chest. Who was he kidding? He could no more stay away from her
than an animal in the wild could ignore the siren call of its mate.

When Kate answered the door, he didn’t know what he
expected. That she’d throw herself at him and smother him in kisses, exclaiming
how much she had missed him? Maybe not quite, but he was not prepared for this
aloof, pensive individual with the smoky eyes, who invited him in with a soft
voice and a quick perfunctory kiss on his bearded cheek.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” she admitted, turning
and making her way back into the apartment. He stood there uncertainly for a
minute but was left with no choice but to follow her in.

The anxiety he’d suffered in the car began to
resurface and he said to her retreating back, “Look, Kate, I don’t think us
going out is a good idea.”

She turned back to him and smiled. “It’s a good job
we’re staying in, then” she responded. He froze in bewilderment and then, as he
moved forwards, he noticed the dining area adjoining the kitchen. She’d
arranged the table for dinner with a shining white tablecloth, lighted candles
and two sparkling wine glasses.

She raised her eyes shyly to his. “I wanted to
surprise you,” she continued. “I'm not a bad cook when I put my mind to it.
I've prepared a meal for us here.”

Michael was flummoxed and felt like turning around
and hightailing it out of there, especially as he just wasn’t sure he could
trust himself alone with her. He remained unresponsive.

Kate chose to approach him and simply break what she
read as astonishment, by saying, “I have surprised you, haven’t I? Shall I take
your coat?”

This triggered a response in Michael. He lifted a
hand, as if to ward her off, and said, “I ……Katie look, after what happened
last time I saw you, I’ve been doing some thinking. I want to make it clear.
I’m not looking to get romantically involved. I think we should just be
friends. I just want to be a friend to you.” He was confident he could maintain
a straightforward platonic relationship. Surely friendship was possible, now
he’d expunged his feelings of misplaced lust?

Kate’s gaze wavered, but she fought valiantly to
control her disappointment. “That’s fine.”

He shrugged out of his coat and her hand brushed his
as she took it. Even this fleeting contact prompted the hairs to stand up on
his arms, as if affected by a static charge. He pretended to ignore it but she
must have felt it too as she paused, ever so briefly, before turning away
hurriedly, saying “I’ll just make some finishing touches to our starters.
There’s wine, beer and spirits on the side so just help yourself to whatever
you fancy.”

She walked on through to the kitchen to finish her
preparations. He couldn’t help noticing the alluring way her backside moved
under the smooth cotton of her trousers. He shook his head. Boy, he needed a
drink! He helped himself to a bottle of strong lager and took a long, grateful
swig. He wiped his mouth and his body began to loosen up as he studied the
room. It exuded a warm ambience, with the scuffed but cosy looking couch, the
bulging bookcase and the pretty little assorted lamps dotted about the place.
Her father might be loaded but the only thing in the room that hinted at such
wealth was an oil painting set above the mantelpiece, which looked suspiciously
like an original. It wasn’t to his taste but he was struck by the evocativeness
of the image. The knight in the picture was utterly transfixed by a beautiful
woman leaning down from a horse to tantalisingly kiss him. He smiled wryly and
took another gulp of his beer. He could thoroughly identify with the man in
that picture and how he felt. 

He was about to sit down when his gaze was caught by
a small, framed photograph standing on the mantelpiece. Picking it up, he
studied it. It was a picture of a dark-haired woman. She was looking rather sad
and the photo was a little creased and faded but he could still see that she
was hauntingly beautiful. The fine planes of her face reminded him of Kate and
he concluded that this must be her mother.

He put it back down
quickly as he heard Kate re-enter the room. As he turned, he could tell by the
sombre look on her face that she had seen what he’d been studying. “Sorry...”
he began, but she waved away his apology. “Don't be sorry for looking at that
photo. I wouldn't have put it there if I didn't want people to see it.”

“Is it..?” Michael began but Kate finished his sentence
for him.

“My mother?
Yes,” she confirmed, moving forward to pick up the picture herself. Her eyes
took on a wistful look. “She was beautiful wasn't she?”

Michael was tempted to answer, “Yes. Just like her
daughter,” but realised, by the sorrow that had fallen like a shadowy curtain
over her face, that it was not the time for a glib remark like this. He heard
Kate release a soft sigh and then she turned to him and said, “She died when I
was very young. It is a deep sadness for me that I never got to know her.”

“Do you remember anything at all about her?” Michael
asked.

“Nothing concrete,” Kate replied.
“Just
very rudimentary memories of sounds, scents and feelings.
The smell of
vanilla makes me think of her. Snatches of song sometimes come to me too. I
know she loved me – if nothing else, the sense of being enveloped in warmth and
love is always with me when I think of her.”

“Hold on to that knowledge, Kate,” Michael advised.
“You have something precious.”

Kate looked at him, clearly puzzled by this comment.
Michael explained, “My mother left us when my sister was born. I can forgive
her for that. What I can't forgive her for is coming back, not for love, but
just to inflict more pain. She took my sister from me.”

He could see the pity in her gaze now and his face
darkened. “I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have told you that,” he disclaimed. “I've
belittled your loss and that's not fair.”

Kate placed the frame back on the mantelpiece and smiled
at him. “You haven't Michael. Come on, before we both get too maudlin! I've put
our starters out.”

He took a seat at the small dining table. He was
touched by the effort she'd made to make the setting look romantic and
inviting.  She asked him about his trip, “Was it a success?”

“Undoubtedly...with just one
unexpected development.”

She sought to explore this further with him but he
seemed keen to move the conversation to other subjects, dismissing it with, “It
was nothing I couldn’t handle”.

The mood lightened as they made small talk and
laughed over her invective when she realised she'd overcooked the lamb. Michael
was unconcerned about the imperfect food when it was served by such a perfect
hostess. He was having a hard time denying the overpowering attraction he still
felt for her. The subtle lighting made her hair gleam and her blue eyes glow
like twin flames.

As she cleared their final dishes away a tension
descended on her, like a wire inside her being pulled taut. She poured them
both a brandy and invited him back through to the sitting room, her eyes hooded
and her body language stiff.

He sat facing her on the comfortable settee,
watching her as she looked down at the liquor in her glass, her wrist moving
gently so the burnished liquid shimmered and swirled. After a while, she took a
large gulp of her drink and raised her gaze to his. The sapphire of her irises
was almost eclipsed by huge pupils, her eyes clouded by the alcohol they had
consumed but also by the trepidation he read within them. He could sense
an edginess
in her, like a lightning storm flickering on the
horizon.

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” she
began, but before she could continue, he enveloped her free hand in his large,
warm one. She started a little, and a slight furrow appeared between her brows,
but she did not move her hand out of his grasp.

“I think I already have some idea of what you’re
going to tell me.”

Her eyes widened at this and she made to move her
hand, but he held on to it and spoke reassuringly. “You don’t need to be
afraid,” he soothed. “Your father confided that you’d been through an awful
experience some years ago...a kidnapping. That is what you were going to talk
about?”

Kate simply stared at him and nodded mutely in
response. “I’m sorry to have interrupted you before you even started,” Michael
said, “but it would have been disingenuous of me not to mention it. I’m your
friend and I want you to know that, whatever you tell me and whatever it was
that happened to you, you’re beautiful inside and out and nothing can change
that.”

Michael’s words seemed to have a defusing effect on
Kate and she crumpled, her eyes flooding with tears. She had worked herself up
into a fierce but fearful resolve, determined to give him just a brief outline
of her abduction but worried that he might somehow judge her, just as Robert
had.

She allowed him to move over to her remove the glass
from her rigid fingers and enfold his arms around her. He could feel her slight
body shaking within his embrace. “But you don’t understand,” she whispered.
“How can you be so certain about me when I am not even certain of myself? I
don’t know half of what happened or half of what I did! I can’t seem to
remember!”

Michael kissed the top of her head, breathing in the
citrus fragrance of her hair and pulling her more tightly against him. “None of
it was your fault. None of it!” he insisted. “Now just relax. Trust me. Close
your eyes and tell me what happened. You may recall things you didn’t know just
in the recounting of it...and, in doing
so,
you may
exorcise the fear that still festers inside you.”

 Kate forced herself to relax against him, as
she did so becoming conscious of the solidity of his chest against her back and
the strength of his arms around her. This served to soothe her while at the
same time electrifying her senses, so that she could hear the heavy, rhythmic
thump of his heart, feel his warm breath caressing her temple and inhale his
distinct masculine scent. She sighed and closed her eyes, her body sinking
against him, as she swam down in her mind to seek out the memories that were
hidden in the thick, black mud of her subconscious.

Michael fought against his body’s instinctual
response as she softened against him. Her closeness, the way her body fit so
snugly against his was enough to drive a man crazy. However, he considered the
gentle curve of her face and the long, black lashes, lying innocently against
her cheek, and he was humbled by the trust she was placing in him. He couldn’t
allow his residual desire for her to destroy this moment of revelation.

Kate began haltingly, but it was as though a searing
light had now been aimed at many of the murky places in her mind and the
details of her ordeal came spilling out of her. Michael held her as she talked
and rocked her gently as tears began to flow down her face, the fear and
desperation she had felt reflected in her voice and the recurrent stiffening of
her body. She came to the point in her account when she had been on her way
home with Sebastian and she suddenly gasped and broke away from him.

She shook her head frantically from side to side and
started moaning, “No. No. No!”

Michael reached for her, but she bucked away from
him, standing up and turning wide, staring eyes upon him. “What is this? What
is this!” she shouted. “Why do I remember this? Why do I remember him attacking
me? That’s not right! It can’t be? It can’t be!”

“Who attacked you?” Michael asked, frowning and
still trying to reach for her. His heart cried out at the stricken look on her
face. Kate just collapsed on to the settee and dropped her head in to her
hands, weeping pitifully. Michael knelt in front of her and took hold of her
shaking shoulders, gently grasping damp tendrils of her hair and smoothing them
away from her cheeks.

She suddenly launched herself into his arms and
clung to him, sobbing against his shoulder like a forsaken child. She
eventually managed to say, in between hiccups, “Sebastian tried to force me
to…to…..” She shuddered at the memory, unable to finish the sentence. “When I
fought him off, we crashed.”

She moved herself away from him a little and lifted
her head, her mascara smudged and her blue eyes rimmed with red and
preternaturally bright. He had never seen her so breath-taking. “I know it’s
true,” she whispered. “My mind now screams at me that it is. He was there to
rescue me but he was my enemy too.”