The Hunt (Mike Greystone, Book 1) (16 page)

I noticed there was a flurry of activity in the turtle tank. A fourth turtle had attached itself on top of the already established sex quadrangle.

"Do they do this often?" I asked my host, pointing at the water tank.

"It happens every now and then."

"Four male turtles on one female? An interesting sight."

"You'd be surprised if I told you the one on top is female. It's Miranda," said Ivanov.

"A female copulating with a male?" I was puzzled.

"Don't know exactly, but Miranda must have some kind of gender identity crisis. She's equally happy to mate with males as with females. In fact, she seems to like females more. It doesn't really bother me, and it's quite entertaining for my guests."

"It is," I confirmed.

"Miranda is a fairly new addition to the tank, so I haven't studied her behavior in detail yet, but she seems to have a strong personality with a certain dominance drive. I'll see how it goes, but if she was meant to be born as a male turtle, it would be a pity if she’s stuck in a female body. I've already found a veterinary clinic specializing in animal gender change. They haven't done any turtles yet, but they did successfully help some mammals, sheep in particular. They do a mix of cognitive behavioral therapy, hormone treatment, and surgery as a last resort. It's quite expensive, but I would do anything for my turtles." He seemed quite passionate about the topic.

"I'm sure Miranda will find her true self," I said. I concluded the meeting and said goodbye. On the way to the office I wondered if the turtle sex-change procedure was covered by pet insurance.

Back in the office I asked Martin to find anything he could about Philip Harker and track his movements.

Then I dialed Dermot Clenaghan's number to report on Morgenthal's progress.

"Hi Dermot, how's things?" I said.

"Cut the crap, Mike. Have you caught that motherfucker Morgenthal yet?" Dermot responded in his usual business-like approach.

"Not yet, but there's been a breakthrough in the case. I captured this petty thief Leo Vermin for Ivanov, who he's glad to take, but that wasn't enough to turn in Morgenthal. He asked me to do some research on his daughter's boyfriend, who he suspects of being a scumbag. Depending on the results of the background checks, he gave me a free hand to deal with him. I've already asked my geek squad to find out everything they can about the guy. Can you have your guys run some checks on him too?" I asked Dermot.

"Sure, what's his name?"

"Philip Harker."

I gave Dermot also Harker's phone number and car registration number, and added: "Let your guys hook up Martin Keenan with whatever they find. Martin will prepare a report for me. How long will it take? My analysts need about a day."

"Same on my end," Dermot confirmed.

"Good, thanks." I finished the call.

I had to pause for a moment and think. I should get all the details about Philip Harker's life by midday the next day. So I had the evening free. I was wondering what Jane was doing. I wasn’t the kind of guy that got attached too easily, but she seemed to have cast a spell on me. My thoughts went back to her all the time. I dialed her phone number to ask how she was doing after the explosion in Starbucks.

"Hi Michael, glad you called," she answered.

"Hi Jane, just wanted to check if everything’s okay."

"Yeah, everything’s going well. No problems. Just a little shaken after the escape."

"Are you doing anything this evening? I could pop down to Pittsburgh and we could have dinner. And I could stay overnight?" I tried to invite myself.

"Sounds like a good plan. But you'll spend a fortune on travel."

"Don't worry, I can still afford it. I should be there around six."

"Lovely, I’ll be waiting anxiously," she kissed the phone.

"Talk to you soon," I said and hung up.

"Martin, I need a plane to Pittsburgh for today asap. Return tomorrow before noon," I said.

A few minutes later Martin answered: "We don't have any private jets handy, but there's a commercial flight in about two hours."

"Should be fine."

"I could ask Dermot if they have any choppers available, if it’s urgent," Martin proposed.

"No, I want to relax and chill out today, I don't feel like flying in a noisy chopper. I'll take the commercial flight."

"Good, do you need local transport?"

"Yeah, hire a car for me at the airport."

"Sure."

I went to my office, checked my emails and read the latest tweets about the Pistorius trial. In a few minutes Martin confirmed my flights and car were booked and I left for the airport.

31.

I picked up
Jane from her place at quarter past six. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then a long sensual kiss on my mouth. It was really worth going over to Pittsburgh.

We went to the “Cure Restaurant.” It was a small place, with slightly rustic interior decor, but highly commendable according to the quick research I'd done before arriving in Pittsburgh. They specialized in pork. In fact, if you could rely on the eighty images of pigs being butchered which had been uploaded onto their website, the restaurant must have been very proud of their pork dishes. All the connoisseurs could have a look at the pictures to find out what exactly happened before the piggy arrived on their plate. However, I wasn’t necessarily going to encourage Jane to look at the restaurant's website before dinner, if at all. I wouldn't encourage young children to view the pictures either. They weren't too gory, but they weren't Miss Piggy pictures either. In fact, I made a mental note to remember to show them to Dermot from Research & Execution – his crime scene clean-up team could get some inspiration as to what to with the bodies they had to dispose of.

We browsed the menu before ordering. I was eyeing up Jane. She looked fantastic from any angle, even looking down at her menu. I couldn't wait until after dinner.

Jane wasn't super-hungry, so she skipped the starter. I had smoked trout. We ordered some aperitifs too – sherry for Jane and Elijah Craig Single Barrel whiskey for myself. Jane got Berkshire Loin Roast for her main and I ordered Zampone, which sounded very intriguing: “pig's heart – sweet Italian sausage” – let's try it, I thought to myself, a little culinary adventure wouldn't do any harm. We also got a bottle of red wine for the main course.

"I missed you a lot," Jane said.

"My thoughts were with you too," I answered. "Is everything okay after the explosion at the coffee shop?" I was seriously worried she might develop some kind of post-traumatic disorder.

"Surprisingly, I'm very relaxed about it. It was a close shave and I was shocked, but you managed the situation in the blink of an eye, so I didn't really have time to get seriously scared."

"Glad to hear that. If you need some psychological help, I'm not skilled enough to help, but I know people who specialize in post-war or post-terrorist event traumas."

"No, it's fine, I know some good ones too. Remember, I work in a hospital, I know where to go if I need help."

"Grand, but remember, if you need me, I can at least listen," I said.

"How's business going? Jane said, changing the subject. "Are you any closer to finding the killer?"

"Inch by inch, getting closer. I had a breakthrough recently. Hopefully it’ll work out well. But, needless to say, don't talk about it or mention it to anybody," I warned her.

"Sure, I know," she smiled.

"How are the Wimbledon kids doing?"

"They're fine, getting better. I really hope the psychotherapy will do them good and erase a lot of the marks left by those terrible events."

The waiter brought our drinks and my starter. I felt awkward nibbling on a starter while Jane was watching, but it was her choice, she didn't want one. She did seem to be enjoying her sherry, no doubt about it. I tried my Elijah Craig and wasn't disappointed, it was fairly decent.

"Tell me about your childhood and teenage years. You promised you would do some day," she said smiling.

"No, I didn’t promise that," I replied, laughing.

"Yes you did, well, it was implied, if you date a woman, she has to know everything."

"So that's how it works?" I smiled. "There's still a lot I have to learn".

"Don't underestimate yourself, you're making good progress."

"Am I a puppy on a training schedule?" I joked. But bells had started ringing in my head. Do I want to put on a muzzle, collar, and leash some day?

"No, of course not," she giggled. "But on the other hand, women have certain expectations from their men, and when these are not met, they try to change their behavior."

"Interesting."

"There's even a proverb about that."

"Let me hear it."

"This is how it goes: 'After marriage, wives try to change their husbands, but the husbands don't change. The husbands don't want their wives to change at all, but the wives do change.' How do you like it?"

"Interesting, I presume that would be true eighty per cent of the time?"

"Possibly, but I'm not that kind of person."

"Glad to hear that," I smiled with relief.

"You wouldn't like to be a puppy on a leash, would you?" she chuckled.

"No, I'd rather retain some independence," I said.

The waiters brought our main course. Jane's dish looked as it should, like a loin roast. My main course looked like ... a sausage. Or actually it was a pig trotter stuffed with minced meat. An unusual sight, but actually quite tasty. It went down well with red wine.

"Last time you mentioned you've found a good therapist for John and Carrie Wimbledon. Have they started their therapy yet?" I asked.

"Yes, as I said, I've found a good one. Dr. Maria Cortez is one of the best in the industry."

"Any progress made so far?"

"You’re too impatient. They did start, but the process takes weeks, if not months. At the beginning, she just has to get to know them well before she can help them."

"I didn't realize."

"But they’re in good hands. I know Dr. Cortez personally and I’ve heard a lot of positive things about her from her clients. And what's more, she has a lot of experience working with children"

"Happy to hear that."

"The good thing is," Dr. Lockerby continued, "that she knows where to start. This needs to focus on the traumatic events of the kids witnessing their father's death. She doesn't have to find the root cause, as it’s already known."

"Great," I said. I didn’t know anything about psychotherapy, so I just nodded.

"Obviously, there could be other problems lying dormant in their minds, and Dr. Cortez will no doubt uncover them as well, but the shooting at the school is the starting point. The immediate root cause, the trigger, is known, which makes things so much easier, if I understand the process rightly, with the caveat that I'm not a professional psychotherapist," Jane explained.

We finished dinner and ordered some desserts and drinks. Jane went for a gin and sweet vermouth cocktail and I ordered an 18-year-old Yamazaki single malt whiskey, just to try something different. We chatted about various topics, taking our time and enjoying our desserts and drinks.

"This was a very nice dinner, thank you," Jane said.

"My pleasure."

"Shall we go over to my place?"

"No doubt we should."

"I want to do a lot of nice things with you tonight," she smiled moving her tongue along her lower lip, clearly indicating what she meant.

"What's in store for me? Can I have some details now?" I teased her.

"No," she smiled. "You'll see, I mean feel, in due course."

"Can't wait!"

I called the waiter and paid the bill.

The car was parked only a short walk from the restaurant. It was warm, but a light rain had just started falling. We were walking slowly towards the car chatting.

Suddenly we heard cries and a commotion. I looked that way and saw that an elderly lady was being mugged by a thug. He punched her so hard that she collapsed on the sidewalk. He grabbed her hand bag, and started running in a direction that would cross our path. In a split second, I dashed forward after him.

He saw me, pulled out a knife, and tried to stab me. Jane uttered a cry of despair. I easily dodged the knife and punched him in the nose from below with the back of my closed fist. I didn't have to use a very strong punch, but believe me, it was very painful for him. He stopped, stupefied, released the knife, and his hands instinctively reached for his nose. He was done. A kick on the sternum to bend him forward and then another at the back of his knees to bring him down was sufficient. I didn't have to use anything more sophisticated on top of what I did in casual fights during my university years. The guy was down, I asked a passer-by to call the police, checked on Jane, recovered the stolen handbag, asked another passer-by to watch the thief on the ground, and went to check if the elderly lady was okay. Somebody had helped her to get back on her feet, but it seemed her eyesight wasn't great as she must have mistaken me for the thug and wanted to pummel me with her umbrella. With all due respect, an elderly lady wasn't a match for my street fighting skills, so I just grabbed the umbrella and said, laughing: "Jesus, I just saved your purse and you’re trying to kill me with your umbrella? That's gratitude."

I handed her the handbag. She seemed to realize I actually had helped her and muttered “Oh, thank you.” I presumed she was still confused and shocked at what had just happened. Anyway, it’s hard to be a hero these days, I thought to myself.

I didn't want to be involved any further, especially with the police, so I asked two more strong young guys to keep an eye on the thief until the police arrived, and we walked away towards the car. They tried to stop me and persuade me to wait for the police to arrive, but once I’d looked them sternly in the eye, and having witnessed how I pacified the thug, they rightly concluded they should not interfere with my business. So off to the car we went. After a few steps I turned my head and saw that the old lady-victim was very determined to administer justice immediately. Two or three guys were keeping the perpetrator on the ground and the old lady was smashing his head with her umbrella. I was sure he’d survive.

"Mike, you were very brave today. I was so scared," Jane commented on the situation.

"That's nothing, it was just a petty thief. He didn't even have a gun."

"But if he had a gun you couldn't have stopped him?"

"I could, if he had his gun in a pocket, or jacket. He would have been on the floor before he could draw the gun."

"But he did draw a knife."

"A knife is easy, I didn't have to hurry. If he had a gun, I would have to be much quicker knocking him down, but that wouldn't have been difficult either, unless he was professionally trained military or agent. But he clearly wasn’t’."

"And if he was already holding a gun?"

"Then I would have to assess all the circumstances and possible consequences. It happens in a split second, but it’s hard to tell what would have happened if there’d been a completely different scenario."

"It was very brave and noble to help that old lady anyway."

"Thanks, but the old lady didn't seem too happy at first."

"She must have been shocked or something. I'm sure she'll appreciate your heroic feat in time."

"She did say thank you eventually. Not sure she fully understood all what happened. Anyway, I'll remain just a quiet, unnamed hero. Tough luck."

"Don't worry, I'll reward you with interest," Jane kissed me.

We drove to Jane's house and it really was a very rewarding night. Jane wasn't very experienced, but utterly natural. Hookers were pros, their job was to satisfy the client. For that they had to put on a show with the proper choreography and sound effects, if you could call it that. But for them it wasn’t pleasure, just business. With Jane, without any fake special effects, it was pleasure for both sides, Jane and me. And it wasn't fake, it was all natural. Jane wasn't a twenty-year-old girl anymore, so even though she wasn't very experienced in that area, she knew her stuff well enough to have fun with a man.

After this long bout of passionate sex, we were lying quietly side by side. I was looking at her brunette hair, somewhat disheveled now, unlike what you would see in a movie where the makeup and hair are immaculate after sex. Then I gazed into her beautiful brown eyes and felt she desired for another round.

"Give me a breather and we can do it again," I said and kissed her on the cheek.

"Take your time. As long as you wish, the night is long, we have plenty of time," she drew closer and put her arm around my chest and leaned her head on my shoulder.

A few moments passed and we made love again. It was even better than before. Jane liked experimenting, not in a vulgar or dirty way, but she just liked to try a fresh approach. Routine and monotony were not her things. This was one of the nicest days of my life.