Book I: Part One

 

 

 

 

A FEW MONTHS EARLIER...

The stage was dark, lit only by one spot illuminating the singer as she delivered the song in her breathy high voice, accompanied by a plangent guitar played by someone just beyond the circle of the light. It was a sad song, a love song, about a man who would never come home again. The music had the distinctly Celtic feel of a traditional air only adding to the plaintive, haunting sadness.

The audience was enraptured, hundreds of people holding their breaths listening to the uplifting melancholy of the lyric. 

All except one.

The door of the box above the stage opened and a young woman burst out, pacing up and down on the thickly carpeted hallway, fumbling in her bag for a cigarette before lighting up. She leaned on the banister that overlooked the sweeping staircase and dragged deeply, closing her eyes, composing herself again.

A hand touched her shoulder and drew her in close. "You okay?"

She nodded but did not speak. He held her a little closer until she rested her head on his chest and he felt a slight relaxation in the tension that rolled off her. "Maybe she shouldn't have sung it tonight?"

Zoe shook her head. "It's a beautiful song. It honours our sacrifice. It should be sung. I just....sometimes I just feel...I'm angry, Dad. Always angry. He should be here. There was so much for him still to do with his life. Andreas needs him. He's always asking me. 'Why don't I have a daddy?' I tell him he does but that his daddy had to go away. But that sounds worse. Like he didn't care enough to stay. You think when he's older Andy might misunderstand? Believe Nick didn't love us enough...? I lie awake at night wondering what Andreas will think..."

"Tell him the truth. When he's older. Tell him his daddy died saving you both. I can't see how any boy won't see that as something to be proud of, even if he wishes it might have been different. Andreas is a wonderful child, well balanced and smart. He's Nick's boy. Give him some credit."

Terry eased away and turned, resting his back against the balustrade. Zoe still stared out pensively. He worried about her. So what's new? He'd been worrying about his little girl since the day she was born. That would never change. But there was a particular edge to his concern these days. The girl was adrift from life. Twenty seven, beautiful, talented and totally wrapped up in one man: her small son, the replacement for his father. He was not sure it was an entirely healthy situation.

"You want to go home? I can get a message to your mum. She'll understand if I run you back..."

"...No. I'll be fine. See...I'm better now. I just needed a fag break..."

"You smoke too much..."

"Yeah, like you're one to talk..."

He laughed. She stubbed out the butt in an ashtray. "Let's go back in. I'm all right now... Dad...I love you...!" He took her hand and squeezed it. Love? He didn't even know how to start to explain what she meant to him. That was the problem. He wanted everything for her - and could do nothing to ease her pain.  She was alone and sad. It cut into his soul to see her like this.

 

*

 

"Do you ever wonder what it's like to be dead?" Zoe lay on the sun lounger, her eyes closed and her head hanging back off the edge; she was stretched out upside down, feet on the headrest, her fingers trailing in the pool. Liam looked across at her, pulling out the ubiquitous earphones to hear her better.

"Zo...that's a bit morbid..." he began, frowning. She rarely brought up the subject of Nick these days so this was probably a good thing in one sense. No one was in any doubt that she thought of him constantly, trapped in some private world of her own where no one else was allowed.

She didn't reply, simply dabbling her fingers and flicking water at a dragonfly that hovered over the surface. Zoe stretched languidly. If he hadn't known her better he would have thought her behaviour was provocative, sexually alluring, dressed as she was in just a pair of tiny bikini panties, her breasts fully exposed as she lay with her hands above her head. She had discarded her top a while back, always easy with topless bathing. It normally never bothered him but something about her today suggested an edge he didn't care for. Liam rolled over and turned away.

"Well, no one actually knows, do they? We say dead is dead but who can say for sure? Maybe there's some awareness?"

"Don't talk crap. Zoe...stop this...it's not right. Are you feeling okay?"

She laughed and sat up, slipping on a T-shirt and sunglasses. "I am always okay. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. My life is a shitty, fucked up wasteland. I'm lonely and tired of it all. That doesn't make me a freak..."

"I didn't say you were a freak. Come on, Zoe...I just want to help! Maybe you should start dating. Meet some guys. Take a trip away with your girlfriends and just go wild for awhile..."

"Don't patronise me! When I need sex, I know where to get it...that is not what I meant..." she strode away, making for the house. He watched her go thoughtfully. It was hard not to worry about her. Did she mean she sometimes went cruising for sex? It made him feel a little nauseous to imagine her taking risks, picking up guys for a quick bang and then coming home to this citadel that she devoted to Nick's memory and to making a safe life for their son. A passing thought of how Nick would have felt had he known this woman he had cherished so much would one day be reduced to this. Dying seemed easy in comparison. Living was the real challenge.

Fliss wandered out with Nina in her arms; the baby must have woken up from her afternoon nap. Liam jumped up and took his precious daughter, laying her on his naked chest under the shade of the large purple parasol. He passed his hand over her tiny head, the fluffy pale hair softer than anything he had ever known. A pain gnawed at his heart. Imagine one day this perfect little innocent girl strolling into a bar and picking up men? Everything seemed to take on a different significance now she had arrived in their lives. It made Zoe's bleak melancholy seem all the sadder.

 

*

 

"Mummy?" Andreas called to her as she came through the lounge room that early evening. He was lying in front of the large widescreen television, paying scant attention to the cartoons, drawing on a pad with some brightly coloured crayons. Zoe lay down by him, observing what he was drawing. It was a picture of the two of them on the beach on a sunny day.

"That's really good..."she muttered as she stretched out on her front next to him.

He looked at his artwork thoughtfully. "I was going to draw a dog but we don't have one."

"You can draw a dog if you like. It's your picture. An artist can draw anything he wants to. Just use your imagination..." she smiled, mentally making a note to get him a puppy one of these days. He was old enough now to take responsibility for a pet. It would be good for him.

"Can I draw a daddy then? Even if I don't have one?" He looked up at her curiously, a shiny lock of hair flopping across his eyes.

His comment jolted Zoe back from her daydream. She stroked his hair back tenderly, softening her voice, trying to choose the right words for this most delicate of topics. "You do have a daddy, sweetheart. Nick is your daddy. On the photographs...you know...?"

"But he doesn't live here. He never comes to see me," Andreas replied, picking up a blue crayon and setting to work filling in the sky.

Zoe sighed. "He can't come to see you because he's in heaven like I told you. God took him from us..."

"Why can't God let him come and see us sometimes?" Andreas mused. "I wish I had a daddy. Everyone has a daddy 'cept me. It's boring with no daddy..." he observed in his oddly mature little way.

"Boring? What do you mean - boring?" His comment made her smile despite herself; her son had such particular little ways of expressing himself sometimes, seeing the world quite differently than she expected.

"There's no one to play with in this house..."

"What about me? I play with you! Don't we have a good time together?"

"You're a girl. I want to do boys' things. And you always go to work..."

Zoe slipped an arm round him and pulled him close. "Daddies go to work, too. Everyone has to work to earn money. So will you when you're a big boy..."

"I don't have any boys to play with. 'Cept Terry and Liam and they don't live here. And sometimes Terry just wants to read or go to sleep on the chair..."

It occurred then to Zoe that Andreas was more than ready for school. He attended a kindergarten a few mornings a week but it was obviously not enough. He wasn't scheduled to start until January, six months away. Zoe hadn't realised that he was feeling lonely around the house and then kicked herself for not having the sense to realise that as he grew, being surrounded by women in this big quiet house would not service a little boy's needs.

"Would you like me to invite some of the kids from kindie round one arvo? We could have some lunch and play games..."

"No girls," he stated solemnly. "Just the boys I like. Freddy and Blair and Benedict and Philippe and Charlie and..."

"Wowsers! You've got a lot of mates," Zoe laughed. 

"We play footie every day. They're my friends. But sometimes they laugh at my name..."

"Laugh? Why?" Zoe stopped him, a little concerned at the thought that he might have been bullied.

"They say it's a girl's name," he answered her with little apparent emotion.

"And what do you say back to them?"

Andreas looked up and grinned. "I just say: 'If you say that again, I'll hit you!' I'm not scared of them. They always cry if they fall over. I never cry. And Benedict wets his pants...he has to bring a spare pair in his backpack with his fruit..."

Zoe felt a little surge of pride for how Andreas had dealt with the taunts of other boys without any fuss. He was his daddy's boy alright- not that she wanted him to start fighting as young as this. "I'm glad you told them not to make fun of your name. It's a good name. Your Daddy chose it for you. It's Greek. Like Daddy. It means 'man' in Greek, so it is a boy's name. But I don't want you to hit anyone, Andre...even if they are naughty to you. You mustn't fight with other boys. The teacher will be cross with you if you do..."

He shrugged, returning to his picture, now adding a bright yellow sun. "Well, they better not call me names then..."

"Promise me you'll tell Mrs. Harrington if it happens again."

"Then I'll be a tell tale! You're not supposed to tell the teacher. That's what girls do," he replied. "Anyway, Terry said just blob them if they do it again."

"Oh, he did, did he? And what did Nannie say about that?" Zoe shook her head at her father's typically male response.

"She didn't hear. He said girls don't like fighting but sometimes you have to show other boys who's the boss."

"Andreas! I do not want to hear you've been fighting, especially with your mates! Now, should we ask them round to lunch next week or not? Their Mums won't let them come if you've been hitting them!"

Andreas giggled. "I didn't hit them! Well, I kicked Blair in the footie and got the ball off him. He started crying. But Mrs Harrington told him he had to be tough if he was playing footie. She told me to be more gentle. It was only a nixcident..."

"Accident.  An accident. Okay, tough guy. Let's go and have some supper, huh? I'm starving...what about you? It's spaghetti tonight..."

"Yay!!!" He dashed ahead into the kitchen, his pensive mood immediately dissipating.

Zoe watched him later as he tucked into his plate of food. He was so smart. Sometimes it seemed such a responsibility to be raising him. Children didn't come with a list of operating instructions, unfortunately - how was any mother to know what was the best way to bring her child up? She would have to consider more regular contact for him with other boys. Her little baby was beginning to grow up and flex his muscles. She couldn't hold him back from becoming the person he was meant to be, nor would she ever want to, even if part of her wished she could wrap him up and keep him as her baby forever.

How Nick would have loved him, especially now when he was growing into a little man! She could imagine his reaction would have been just the same as her father's to the question of children making fun of him. Nick would have definitely said 'Go and thump anyone who messes with you'. And he might have been right in a way. Boys had to learn to negotiate the more physical world of men even from an early age. But the last thing she wanted was for Andreas to grow up as a bully himself. He would no doubt have the physical gifts to make him one of the strong and athletic boys. He was tall and well built for his age, daring and fearless, confident in his own abilities, agile, able to swim well already and a fast little runner. She had to make sure he developed his skills in the right way. The thought of Nick's tortured amorality frightened her too much.

Zoe knew that it was possible for a woman to raise a boy alone but she was also realising that it took a lot of adapting to his needs, even if they were opposite to hers. It was imperative she did not force him into the mindset of a female. More than ever she felt the lack of a man at her side, even though she knew that she and Nick would have disagreed over many aspects of their son's upbringing, just as her Mum and Dad had not always seen eye to eye over them when they were children. Liam had been such a scrapper; Dad had never seen any real reason to discourage it whereas Mum had tried everything to stop him from being so aggressive. The difference was Liam only had to look at his father to understand where being a good man began and ended. Andreas didn't have that real father figure in his life. So she had to supply the answers that he needed in the way he needed them.

This motherhood job just seemed to get more and more challenging every day, even if the rewards were beyond words. Just one look at her beautiful son and she fell in love with him more and more every day, deeper and deeper. There was nothing in life like the bond between a mother and her child.  Yet where did her own needs fit into all that? How did she find the fulfilment that she required? Would it be enough in life simply to be Andreas' mother? She knew the answer to that even before she asked the question of herself. She had to have another outlet in her life or she would fail in everything. For what use was any person if they lost themselves somewhere along the way? It was time for her to test herself and decide what she wanted to be in life.

It would not be a wife. Nick's death had taken that possibility away from her; she had no inclination to go there again. She was already a mother and it was not enough to fill the void inside of her, no matter how much she loved her son. What then was left to the girl who appeared to have everything? Only time would tell.

 

*

 

"I really don't think this is a good idea..." Jamie began. Zoe kicked off her shoes and leaned back in the roomy leather swivel chair in the CEO's office at Siphos Security International, stretching out her legs on the large desk before her. She remembered once having sex there with Nick. It didn't improve her mood.

"You were the one who asked me to meet him..."

"I know... but he didn't say he was going to propose such a lame-arsed idea..."

Zoe gave Jamie Farrow a patronising look. "You know, you tough guys always get on my tits. You can be so fucking prim when it suits you..."

"This is not a game, Zo. This is serious shit..." he countered menacingly.

His answer did not faze her. "I'm in the high risk security business, pal, or haven't you noticed the name who signs your fucking salary...?"

"Stop swearing. Talking like a hard man doesn't make you one..."

"Fuck off!"

"Very lucidly put. They teach you that at Oxford - or Harvard...?" Jamie threw back at her. The phone rang and Zoe answered it, glad for the disturbance, anything to get Jamie off her back on this one.

It was reception. "Zoe? There's a gentleman here to see you. He hasn't given a name but said you were expecting him. He asked me to say he was an old army buddy of Nick's..."

"Send him in..." She slid her legs off the desk and sat up straight, smoothing down the neat black suit and finding her shoes. "Let's get on with the show, shall we?"

Jamie frowned and slunk out of his chair, slamming it back against the wall. Zoe watched him with a sultry expression. He was her friend but sometimes he took too much onto himself. He had no rights to interfere in her life. No one did anymore. She made her own choices.

The visitor walked in, smartly glancing at Farrow's grim demeanour before striding forward to meet Zoe, a practised professional smile on his face. He was a man in his fifties, she estimated, ruddy-faced and running to fat. He looked like he was fond of good food and red wine. His fair hair was receding and there was something boyish about his round, even features that made her imagine he had once been a sweet looking young man, with those pretty features that never age well. "Jeremy Cuthbert...."

"Zoe Costello..." She stood up and extended a hand, replicating his easy style. The man's face registered approval as he gave her a swift appraisal. She was used to the effect she had on men. They immediately underestimated her. She found it very helpful.

"I was told you were an attractive girl but...I wasn't quite expecting ..." Cuthbert added with an overly avuncular smile, still holding her hand and squeezing it affectionately.

"My hand? Please?" Zoe replied and he let it go, slickly regaining his cool. 

"My apologies...I knew your husband. I was very sorry to hear about his accident...A great loss..."

"Well, it wasn't strictly speaking an accident, but thank you anyway...and we weren't married..."

"Ah...!" Cuthbert answered with that British way of conveying a great deal of meaning in a simple exclamation.

"I'm rather busy, Mr. Cuthbert, so I would be grateful if we could move this along. You think I can be of some help to you, do you?"

He smiled and set out his attaché case on the desk, flicking the locks briskly and extracting a memory stick. Zoe stared at him for a few seconds, accepted it and opened the file, scanning it swiftly in silence, her hand playing with her hair, twisting it round a finger. Cuthbert found himself watching her throat and the silky path of flawless skin that led down to her breasts, snugly fitted into black wool and a crisp white cotton shirt. He shook himself and tried to keep his mind on the job - but Ms. Costello was a woman who would distract most men. Good, he smiled to himself. Exactly what was needed; she would be perfect.

"Jamie...do you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes...?"

Farrow had been leaning against the wall, his arms folded, listening intently. Her request annoyed him. What the fuck was she playing at? Secret agents? The girl was going to get herself in a heap of shit. He glowered at her but had no choice but to comply. She was his boss when all was said and done.

Nick would tear strips off her if he knew what she was planning.

The door closed with an aggressive click. Zoe smiled. Jamie was having a tantrum. He could go suck his dummy for all she cared. She was tired of being the one who thought about others all the time. This time she was thinking about her own needs for once. "So...what exactly do you want me to do, Mr. Cuthbert....?"

 

 

NOW

Terry helped himself to a cold beer served by a passing waiter. His son was throwing a housewarming party at the new 'beach house' Liam and Fliss had just moved into on the north shore. Beach house? This was top of the range celebrity designer-inspired excess. He hardly regarded an estate of two hectares as qualifying as a 'beach property.'

Tonight there was a big crowd of the usual names. It was the sort of occasion he did not go for at all. His eyes ranged over the guests, looking for Annie. She was his lifeline at times like this. He didn't find her.

"You must be Liam's father...pleased to meet you...I'm Jake..."

Terry gave a sideward glance to the young man who had stopped him as he had been making his way through the crowded poolside back towards the house. Automatically he extended his own hand, consigning the name and face to memory in his usual instinctive way but not paying any more attention than that. The place was full of beautiful young things, most of whom were beginning to merge into one in his head. Was that his age or did young people actually all resemble each other these days?

"Nice to meet you, son...Have a good evening..." He made as if to pass on but the young man continued.

"...I've been looking forward to meeting you, sir. I've something that I'd like to discuss with you when you're free. Have you a moment for me to explain?"

Terry stopped and gave the young man a more thorough appraisal. He was good looking without being pretty, strong masculine features, average height, curly thick dark hair, blue eyes and a strong nose. He noticed the guy's mouth, wide and set in an easy smile. Terry reckoned he knew a lot about judging people and always took notice of his initial impression. This boy exuded a good vibe, no pushover, but an intelligent and decent person. He suddenly thought this was the kind of guy a man would want for his daughter.

"You wanted a word with me? In this gathering with so many nubile young women...?" Terry grinned but held out a hand, guiding Jake to a quieter spot, a bench in the cool Zen Balinese garden off the main pool area, complete with its koi pond and bale. They sat down in the pagoda-like structure on a richly upholstered divan.

"Liam was talking about you one night and mentioned you had a military and intelligence background..."

"...he did, did he?" Terry interrupted, somewhat annoyed. He never liked any details of his career to be leaked out where he did not believe they belonged and was surprised at Liam's having divulged this.

Jake winced. He hadn't exactly broached this sensitive topic with much finesse. "Sorry, Mr. Thorne. Let me back up here. I'm a friend of Liam's but not from the music world. I'm an actor. You may have heard of my name...?"

Terry shook his head. "Why? Should I recognise it?" He had a highly trained eye for faces and names in his professional life - but an actor? Annie always laughed at how he never ever recognised anyone in films, mostly because he didn't pay attention to things like that. To him TV and films were just mindless pap to flop in front of and chill out. So this guy was someone famous, was he?

"Well...I've made a couple of films that have played worldwide...I was in..." Jake named the film, an Oscar nomination from the previous year.

"The gay cowboy?" Terry laughed. "I never saw it. Or rather I saw the first half an hour and fell asleep. Annie - that's my wife - said I did it on purpose so as not to challenge my prejudices. She's very opinionated. Especially where my failings are concerned...but then she's a woman... I myself prefer to put it down to not getting off on the sight of two men making out..."

Jake laughed. "Me neither, to be perfectly honest. It's not an experience I would be eager to replicate...Don't worry. I didn't get you alone to proposition you, sir. Liam's more my age range..." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he said that; Terry laughed and decided he rather liked the kid.

"So...if it's not my body you're after...what's this got to do with my former career?" He had not forgotten the purpose of this conversation. Jake noted the smooth way Terry Thorne had returned them to the topic in hand.

He took a noticeable breath before he proceeded. "I'm researching my current character who is an intelligence agent. He's beginning to doubt the morality of his chosen calling. The story's more compelling than most of these type of adventures. It isn't a big budget special effects blockbuster but a serious work about choices and the ambiguity of the undercover world. I'd like to get it right, sir. You know, get inside the heads of people who do that kind of work and make sure that I know enough about the world to make it believable...? Liam said I should talk to you."

"You making the film here?"

"Yeah...well, some of the action sequences are being filmed here. It isn't supposed to be set in Australia but the terrain is being used...it's cheaper than Europe..."

"Don't you have technical advisors?" Terry asked shrewdly.

 Jake nodded. "Bunch of stiffs. You looked like a more interesting option..."

"I did? It was a long time ago, son. But, if you want to ask me a few questions... how about we get together for lunch some day? Tonight is probably not the best venue for something like this...Here's my card...Give me a call..."

Jake grinned, pocketing the card. "That would be great...I appreciate it, sir. I understand that it might be a sensitive topic but I assure you I would treat anything you say with the greatest confidence. I know my career probably sounds pretty shallow to a guy like you, but it matters to me that I get it as right as I can..."

The younger man's eyes drifted away as his voice trailed off momentarily. Terry followed the direction of his gaze and saw his own daughter making her way through the throng of people. She looked startlingly lovely, dressed in a simple red silk dress that set off her glossy dark hair and clung to her willowy figure. The distant enigmatic look was back that she seemed to have developed to keep the world at bay; Terry watched as she managed to avoid people with a smile that both greeted and dismissed them before she was drawn into conversation. He had a sudden desire to be with her and help her deal with the evening. He knew she wouldn't be entirely comfortable in such a crowd, just like him. But then Zoe never seemed comfortable socially anywhere these days.

"I'm sorry...I...I..." Jake tried to cover his confusion. "... Who is that beautiful woman...?" Like most men faced with Zoe's beauty he was at a loss for words, unable to disguise his interest.

"My daughter...Liam's sister...Zoe... She has that effect on most men..." Terry added softly. "Call me, Jake...and now, if you'll excuse me..." Terry rose with an amused look on his face as Jake carried on openly staring at Zoe. One very smitten young man. She could do worse. She already had.

 

*

 

"...You must be Liam's sister...Zoe, isn't it?"

Zoe turned her head to the sound of the voice. Standing before her was a personable young man, American by the sound of it, although she would have guessed it anyway simply by his general wholesome appearance. The guy was tall, dark, hair thick with a wiry curl, good physique if on the slim side, boyish even features. White teeth, square dimpled chin. Blue, blue eyes framed by heavy brows and a wide fleshy-mouthed easy grin. She couldn't quite decide if he was handsome or just pleasant to look at. It was that sort of face. Then it occurred to her that he was familiar. Had she met him somewhere before? Perhaps when she had been at Harvard? Had his hair been different then?

"I bloody hope you're not implying I look like him, mate...because if that's what you mean it has to be the world's worst chat up line..." Zoe answered, still trying to place where she had seen him before. His wide grin was fetching and so was the twinkle in his eye.

"I was talking to your dad...he pointed you out...and you don't look like either of them so I'm guessing your Mom must be quite a looker..."

"That's more like it...!" Zoe replied with a roll of her eyes. "I knew you had a better line than that...You have the advantage of me, I'm afraid. You know my name and I don't know yours. Although you do have an awfully familiar face. Have we met?"

Jake gave her a feigned wry look, mimicking her clipped intonation perfectly. Her accent was upper class British overlaid with an Aussie taste for profanity and slang. He found it irresistible. "Awfully? That bad, hmmm?"

It was a long time since Zoe had indulged in innocent flirtation with a man. Her usual contacts these days were as she sat at some high end bar with a fancy cocktail and waited until she saw someone who took her eye, drew his attention and then played along with the sexy innuendo until they were both clear what each wanted and then shortly afterwards took their mutual sweaty pleasure in a hotel room. End of interlude.

 She had forgotten how much fun it was just to chat with a charming man who, although he clearly fancied her, was non-threatening and not making any overt moves. She decided she liked him a lot already, even if she hardly knew him.

"I've seen worse...I live in Sydney... Seriously though...do I know you?" The more she talked to him, the more she was bugged by a niggling feeling that she had indeed seen him before.

He shook his head. "I'd have remembered you, that's for sure. You may have seen me here and there, though. My name's Jake ---" At the mention of his surname, Zoe's hand flew to her mouth and she groaned.

"Jesus! What a nong! I am so embarrassed...! Does that happen all the time? I only saw that film the other night as well....You were brilliant in it...!"

"Well, thank you very much. And no, beautiful women do not always think they know me. But I'd have no objection if they did...and can I just point out that I'm an actor? A really good one, if I say so myself. So that film bears absolutely no resemblance to my real life sexual orientation...you understand?" He gave her a goofy, sideward grin.

"What a pity, 'cos I'm a real fag hag, you know?" Zoe threw back at him playfully.

Jake held his hands up. "Okay, let's do a deal...I can be gay if you want me to be. That's the benefit of being a thespian. Versatility, you see?"

They took seats at the poolside, refilled their drinks from the tray of champagne proffered by a waiter and were soon deep in conversation. He told her about the movie he was shooting at the moment, the action sequences being filmed in New South Wales. She mentioned her company without saying more than its general purpose and referring to the security they regularly supplied to such projects as film sets.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night. I'm off to the wilds of the outback on Monday...it's the only chance I'll get..."

"...Only chance to do what?" Zoe asked him cheekily.

"..To take you out to dinner, silly...what were you thinking I meant?" His limpid eyes flashed wickedly. "Go on...you know you want to..."

Zoe bit her lip as if deep in thought. "Oh, okay...seeing as I've nothing better to do and you are a big Hollywood star an' all...!"

His uneven smile lit up his face. "Give me your address...I'll pick you up at seven thirty."

She opened her purse, took out a pen, lifted up his hand and scrawled a telephone number on the cuff of his white shirt. "Call me tomorrow when you've booked a table. I'll make my own way there. Eight o'clock....And I never have sex on the first date..."

"Thank God! Me neither...The pressure's off...!" he retorted as she stood up and extended her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jake. Call me. I'll be looking forward to it..."

"...It?" he asked her with a wide-eyed faux-innocent look.

"...Dinner! Naughty boy!" She tutted, loping off, looking back at him as she moved away, giving him a sexy pout.

Jake sat back and smiled. Crazy girl. Beautiful girl. Just what he needed...

 

*

 

Monday morning and Zoe sat at her desk resting on her elbows deep in thought. For a long time she did not move a muscle. There were things on her mind and she needed to think them through before her meeting later that morning.

With a sigh, she lay back in the leather swivel chair, a rather masculine indulgence in this refurbished office of hers, a legacy to the previous CEO. Zoe had been unable to discard this chair, the scene of so many of their snatched romantic trysts in the past. It had become a medium for her to talk to Nick and feel, however insanely, that she was in touch with him in some strange way.

"I went out with this cute guy on Saturday night. It was pretty weird actually. The first real date since..." Her voice tailed away. "...Even weirder, we didn't have sex or anything. I mean, I shag anything these days just for the tension relief. I know you don't give a shit about things like that. Don't worry, I'm always careful, Nicky. I pick them up in decent places and go to upscale hotels. I know things can still get messy - but what else can I do? I need it. Everyone needs it. And it isn't as messy as trying to date someone...."

She stopped and closed her eyes, trying to picture Nick sitting there, his chin resting on his hands, listening, that wry look on his face tinged with the indulgent love he had for her. "His name's Jake. He's an actor. Quite a famous one, actually. You'd probably think he was a bit of a dreamer but he's nice. Intelligent. Well read. Interesting. We had dinner at a new restaurant on the Harbour. I hadn't been there before. It was lovely. We talked all night. My driver took him home. I could tell he was thinking of kissing me but...maybe next time, huh? It was odd. I never wanted there to be a next time for so long. That's an improvement, isn't it?"

The talking out loud was mostly to help think it through for herself. Zoe had found herself in a quandary after a night that had made a dramatic impact on her. She had liked Jake. A lot. He had made her laugh. They could talk on so many levels. It was just so nice to relax in the company of an attractive companion of the opposite sex again.

How ironic that she should have met him now at this moment in her life when she had embarked on another course entirely, forsaking love for something quite different! For the first time she wondered if she ought to say no to Cuthbert. Today's meeting was her last briefing before she went off for a few days' intensive training and then carried out the current job. Jake wouldn't be back in Sydney for a few weeks at least. By then the whole thing should be done and dusted.

Zoe took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. It wasn't even as if she fancied Jake. Not really. She could go to bed with him. She probably would if he asked her to. He was a darn sight more appealing and sexually alluring than most of the dickheads she found herself intimate with these days. But her heart hadn't raced at the sight of him. Was that something to do with Nick? Was it impossible for her ever to feel that level of intensity for any man again?

The phone rang. Cuthbert was here. She stood up and strode into her bathroom, checking her makeup and straightening down her figure-contoured grey business suit. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she composed her expression and lifted up her chin in a mannerism remarkably like her father when he was pushing himself one way while a little voice inside his head whispered to go another. "Jake is just a passing fancy. I have all of my life ahead of me. This is what I need for myself. A purpose. A challenge. Something to make the adrenalin flow again..."

By the time her secretary showed in her appointment, there was no sign of vacillation. Zoe was going ahead with this.

 

*

 

The rendezvous was in an open air food centre downtown famed for its hawker stalls and local delights. It was not, however, famed for its hygiene or congenial surroundings, apparently. The man took a seat at a table in the middle of the open space set in a square of ramshackle old shop houses that had seen far better days. The Lonely Planet Guide called it Medan Selera - Gluttons' Square -   a laughably grandiose title for such a squalid place. But like any patch of un-adopted space in this bustling capital city, the entrepreneurial local Chinese had found a use for the pot-holed space to make money by turning it into a night attraction for tourists and locals alike.

The open air food court was fringed with stalls each offering tasty and ludicrously cheap delights for those who chose to ignore the piled up rubbish, the scrawny cats hanging round each table and the occasional black rat that lurked around in the wide - usually blocked - monsoon drains around the perimeter. The food was cooked at fiery temperatures on the spot - you took your chances against hardy bacteria.

It was still early, the clientele sparse after a heavy bout of tropical rain which had now stopped and left the humid evening a little fresher than usual. Stall owners were shaking off the wet chairs and wiping down the tables as the man picked his way across the puddles to his place. Taking the plastic chair in his right hand he resituated it to an angle that he hoped would give him a better view of those coming and going.

He had no idea who his contact was, only that she was female. His eye scanned the people who were milling about, mostly office workers calling in for a cheap supper on their way home to miss the built up traffic that was still at gridlock as the streets struggled to cope with the aftermath of the deluge.

There was no reason to presume that he was waiting for someone European. It could just as easily be an Asian. It was foolhardy to allow any assumption to pre-empt readiness.

He noticed her immediately but his brain didn't register initially anything more than a physical reaction, that typical jolt to a male libido that was involuntary and often merely passed fleetingly across his brain even as he thought about something else more weighty. It brought with it a pleasant release of some endorphin that relaxed him, a loosening in his body accompanied by a tightening deep in his groin. For a short while his purpose there slipped from his mind as he watched her cross the square.

The girl in question was young and stunningly beautiful, but not in a flashy or provocative way, for she wore her loveliness casually. Her hair was thick and glossy, worn chin length, cut in a messy style. She was wearing a loose cream linen dress and a pair of Birkenstocks, a large brown leather handbag slung over her arm.

He followed her with his eyes as she browsed the stalls and made various selections, gesticulating vaguely over in his direction as if she intended to sit in that area of the square. Her movements fascinated him; he wasn't sure why he found her so compelling. Her beauty alone did not seem sufficient justification. Yet he found her mesmerising. It probably said more about his state of mind than her allure, however. What exactly was he doing here anyway?

The woman walked briskly over as if she was meeting someone. He noticed how the soft fabric of the linen dress fell about her long, slender legs. She had tiny ankles. Her breasts were large for a girl so slim. A passing image of her naked crossed his mind; her body would be sinuous and silken, her pubic hair dark and velvety.

He had hardly driven the prurient image away when she neared his table and he looked down, pretending that he was busy sending an SMS message to avoid being caught out in his obvious stare. So much for an experienced intelligence officer undercover - or perhaps it was better this way? He looked like an ordinary bloke lusting after a gorgeous girl. It was a decent enough disguise.

The girl smiled and let on to someone behind him. She must have been meeting a friend all along. Restraining an urge to turn his head in the direction to see who was lucky enough to be with her and what kind of man was able to bring that warm glow to her face, he kept on looking forward as if he had not seen her.

Only to find that she sat down across from him - and he realised with a shock that her date was he himself. This was his contact.

"Hi! I ordered for us both...hope you don't mind...I chose satay and kwei teow...and some of those gorgeous spring roll things...poh piah? My eyes are always bigger than my belly...I got a bowl of laksa, too, and some roast duck...."

To be fair, he recovered his poise quicker than most. Only a rapid blinking of his eyelashes betrayed his momentary surprise before he fell into a natural conversation with the woman. "I'm starving, too...you want a beer with that?" He called over to a waiter who had been hovering, waiting to take the drink order.

"Go on then...but I'm so thirsty it will probably go straight to my head..."

He ordered a large bottle of chilled Tiger beer and two glasses. She looked about her just as any tourist does in a place like this, eager for experiences and to feel the excitement of this unconventional eating place. "Do you have a name?" he muttered.

She flashed him a coy look. "Call me Matty..."

"Matty? Surname Harry?" He added sardonically. Matty rolled her eyes.

"Clever, clever...So, it's true what they say about you boys, is it? Brains as well as brawn? Bet you're a Cambridge Classics graduate and Rowing blue....I can tell you guys a mile off... I'm surprised you didn't order Vodka Martini, shaken and not stirred... " she riposted in a husky whisper. He detected a hint of Oxford English in her mild Strine. This girl had been educated in the heartlands of England.

"Well, Matty...should we dine first and then to business?" he said cutting to the chase and not allowing her teasing to bait him. The food began to arrive in steaming platters of rich and pungent flavours. He was hungry; so was she, it seemed, as she tucked in with more gusto than her waif-thin body would have suggested.

"You got a name, then?" she asked him as she deftly manoeuvred the thick laksa noodles into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks.

He looked up. "Peter...Peter Mason..."

Matty chuckled. "Bet your real name's just as bland..." Her comment annoyed him although he knew that was what she was aiming for and that he should have ignored it. Whoever Matty was and whatever had motivated her to this line of work, it was obvious that she was one of those bleeding heart lefties who embraced unconventional causes, particularly if they involved violent responses to her own government policies, justifiable because of the 'greater evil' of the democratic western economic powers on the poor abused third world. Never mind, that the greatest abusers were their own governments. Such truths were generally ignored if they got in the way of the myth.

He should have let her smug insinuations pass him by; he had heard them spouted mindlessly often enough in his line of work. But he still felt a need to defend himself. He knew why. He was attracted to this woman and it was hitting his masculine pride that she was dismissing him so casually.

"I'm not MI6. So the Bond jokes are rather unnecessary. It was Cambridge though. But P.P.E. and Rugby.   You're not bad for an amateur, however..."

Matty eyed him up as she sipped on her beer. "You're a long way from Thames House, Peter...how come they let Five boys on a plane?"

"None of your business. You got the information?" This time he blanked her question entirely. She wasn't going to find out anything operational.

"You first," she countered. He fished The Lonely Planet Guide from the pocket of the small rucksack he had set down by his table. Opening it, he made as if to read out one of the entries he had marked. The bookmark was a folded up piece of paper. Matty pulled out a similar copy from the depth of her voluminous leather bag and a pen. She seemed to be annotating the margin. It only took a moment for the books to be swapped. They left them side by side on the table while they finished the meal. No hurry. Make it seem like a couple of travellers eating supper.

They chatted amicably. She was witty and smart, not really the sort of woman he had first expected. Those political activist types were usually humourless and opinionated. Matty was self-deprecatory and genuinely funny, quick with repartee and a sharp observer of life. He detected a high level of education and a sophistication gained in a responsible profession. This girl was confident, used to socialising and had highly developed PR skills. Whoever had selected her knew what he was about. But it was hard to know what a woman like this was doing as a lowly courier of intelligence.

Unless she, like he himself, was more than she appeared to be.

His thorough appraisal of her showed him that she was a wealthy woman. Her clothes, although in a casual traveller style, were not hippy cheap. This was expensive designer wear. Her hair was the product of a high end salon - she had that gloss of class and style that is indefinable and unmistakable. Some millionaire's daughter who got her kicks from anarchy? It was a common enough rebellion for the children of the privileged to believe they were making amends for the exploitation of their family wealth.  

Yet, somehow it didn't add up. Matty just didn't seem naïve enough for that. This woman was shrewd and acting the part of a bohemian leftie. She was too poised and unemotional to quite convince. Her legend was not working for him, probably because her performance was too slick.

"We leave together?" Matty asked. They had eaten about as much as they were going to and drunk the beer. The transaction was done. There was nothing more to say. He nodded, calling over various stall owners and settling the bill. Gathering up their belongings, they sauntered towards the main road.

"How did you get this information?" he asked quietly as he took her arm and crossed the busy street, dodging the motorbikes that seemed to have a death wish.

Matty chuckled softly. "You joking? My sources are secret. Just as yours are. I didn't ask you how you knew what you've sold to me...or why no one in your government seems to give a shit for one of its own citizens unless it suits them to barter the location of her incarceration for something profoundly juicier..."

"...You need to be careful. I don't know who you're working for but the people who are holding this woman are dangerous...I hope you know what you're doing..."

She shook her hair in a truculent fashion, dismissing his comment. "Not your business, not your problem...." Her hand flagged down a passing cab. As it pulled into the kerb, Matty kissed him lightly on the lips, maintaining the fiction that they were just a couple on holiday together.

"Go get laid, Peter...you're too wound up for your own good. That stiff upper lip would serve you better if you moved the stiff part down aways...know what I mean, love?"

"You offering?" he retorted dryly as she opened the car door. 

Matty flashed him a sultry smile. "You wish, Mr. Spook...you wish...!" And then she was gone. He stood and watched the taxi as it disappeared into the twilight of another hot Asian night. Who the hell was she?

 

*

 

Terry Thorne exited the elevator that took him to his penthouse apartment on the luxury development at Watson's Bay. He had been in Canberra for a few days on a conference. They still called on his expertise on a fairly regular basis. It kept him from boredom and in return he charged an outrageous consultancy fee. Time had taught him that altruism was unwise. No one ever valued anything that came free, especially advice or information. If you demanded an exorbitant amount they seemed to feel they had received something better - and called you back for more. Nick Costello had taught him that. Make them pay. Even if you want to do it.

As he turned the key in the lock, he heard a whoop of pleasure and moments later, his grandson, Andreas, had launched himself on him. The child was his delight: spontaneous, affectionate, endlessly curious, funny and highly intelligent. There was a great deal of his father in this small boy, unsurprisingly, but he had a gentle innocence that Terry doubted Nick Costello had ever possessed, even at four years old.

"Terry!" Andreas screeched as he swung from his neck. The child had always called him by his name even though his mother had tried to get him to say Granddad. But somehow, Andreas had never done so. Terry hadn't fought that one. He wasn't much enamoured of the title anyway.

"Hiya, mate...you driving Nannie crazy?"

"Yup!" Andreas laughed, kissing his grandfather and hugging him tight. "She's on the terrace doing her flowers..." The little boy wriggled down and took his hand, dragging him up the steps to the upper storey and then out onto the wide roof garden that was Annie's pride and joy. She had turned it into a Balinese garden, lush with tropical plants and water features.

"Terry!" Annie dropped her basket and skipped over, so happy to have him home. He, too, was glad to be back. These days he found himself hating even the shortest separations. He caught her in his arms and kissed her tenderly; she stroked back his hair lovingly, those small touches that were instinctive but carried within them the core of their love for each other. There was a constant need for them to reaffirm their bond in their intimacy of touch.

Andreas burrowed between them, forcing his little body against his grandmother, unconsciously reclaiming his ownership of them both in that way of children with those adults that they care most about. "Your Mum not back?" Terry asked as he picked the boy up again and reached out to push back a strand of Annie's hair from her face, the question addressed to the boy casually, but his expression to his wife more searching.

Annie shook her head and pulled a face, conveying the impression there was more she would tell him later.  "You two thirsty?"

"A beer would slip down nicely..." Terry answered. "...You go help your Nana while I grab a quick wash..." Andreas ran off after Annie while Terry went down to his bedroom and took a shower. His daughter was on his mind. What exactly was she up to?

Zoe had rarely left Andreas for more than a night up until recently. In many ways Terry had been wanting her to cut the umbilical cord a little more definitively and begin to live her own life as well as the one she existed that seemed to be mostly for the benefit of her son. Yet, he was uneasy about something that had been mentioned to him that morning before he had left. A valuable piece of intelligence had just come in, passed to the Australian government concerning a group of their citizens of East Asian origin who were studying in a madrassah in Pakistan that was not on the list of the known centres for extremist Islamic study. This was such a secret base that until the day before its existence had only been suspected and certainly its location had been unknown. The new evidence showed that this religious school, situated high in the mountainous north, was much more than a theological centre for doctrinal studies - it was a fully militarised training camp with the latest masking technology that had prevented it from being sighted on satellite surveillance or picked up via listening posts. There was no doubt it was a major find.

The information had come through the British government. Terry had asked how they had secured it. A shadowy independent agency had approached them, apparently, and insisted on a cloak and dagger type operation in a South East Asian capital for the exchange of this valuable intelligence in return for an undisclosed but obviously highly sensitive reciprocal piece. The whole matter had struck him as curious; he had wondered exactly what had had to be given up for this juicy morsel, but it had only been of passing interest to him. It was unlikely anyone outside the higher echelons of British intelligence service would ever know the full story.

Normally, he would have given the matter no more thought, except for the mention of one word that had made him pause. Someone had whispered to him that there was a Siphos connection in all this but that was all they knew.

The revelation had not been divulged by accident or idle chatter even if it had been slipped into the conversation as an aside. Terry knew that when such gems were dropped then there was a purpose somewhere down the line. Someone had wanted him to know.

On the plane back he had given the matter a lot of thought. Siphos was very influential in areas on the fringe of intelligence work. Many of its contracts took operatives into highly volatile regions of the world. He himself knew what that meant. For years he had traded snippets of information, gleaned while on assignments as a negotiator, for leads or help that he needed. Occasionally he had even sold such intel. That was nothing new to him. No doubt Siphos did much the same if they came across anything they thought was interesting or important - or could make them a hefty side income.

His daughter was the chairman of Siphos. It was run by a team headed by one James Farrow, her CEO. How much hands-on knowledge did Zoe have of the operational side of things, he wondered? She was not the sort of woman who wouldn't be interested in keeping abreast, although he had always imagined that Farrow kept a lot of the dirtier aspects of the business from her. That was normal. It was expected that a sanitised version of field operations was usually reported back in debriefs to keep the hands of the senior management clean.

So why was he worrying this one over? There must be lots of times when Siphos, like all risk and security companies, was involved in government work, even in a lateral capacity. It had little to do with Zoe herself. She was just the figurehead, the owner of the company.

But the coincidence of her being away at this time had rattled him, awakening that sixth sense he always had when something did not jive. It could be just one of those things. Or it could be something very much more worrying. Zoe was remoter than ever these days, friendly and serene on the surface, but distant in a way he found hard to define. This unexpected piece of information had raised a niggling voice in his head telling him that she was up to something and that just maybe this chain of apparently random events might not be quite as unconnected as it appeared. He had been subliminally concerned for a long time about her seeming inability to pull herself out of the trough of despond she was in but today's little revelation had rung an alarm bell. He might be paranoid but his healthy sixth sense fuelled by his nose for reading through the obfuscations of the security services, was telling him otherwise.

Returning to the garden, he sat down with Annie in a charming spot by a waterfall feature in the shade of hanging greenery. Andreas was splashing about in the pond, playing with a small boat, pushing it out with a stick until it was caught up in the whirlpool caused by the cascade and laughing as it was caught and dragged under. Terry took a long drink from the bottle of beer she had set down before him. "When's she due back?"

Annie checked Andreas was occupied before answering. "Tomorrow."

He nodded thoughtfully, pulling on the bottle again. "Where is she? I don't buy that vague story of something to do with work..."

Annie rolled her eyes. "Officially, I don't know. Unofficially, my money's on that American actor guy. He's filming somewhere out in the sticks. I'll bet she's out there with him..."

"Yeah? That guy Jake? The one she met at Liam's party...straight up?" Terry smiled, suddenly feeling a great weight lifted from him. Now that was the one thing he hadn't expected. He shook his head and mentally berated himself for his need to think the worst about everything and everyone. He had suspected his daughter was lying when she had put them off with a vague explanation to justify this unusually long absence of almost ten days. It had never occurred to him that it might be because she didn't want to admit that she was going to be spending it in the arms of a man she had just met. You don't usually tell your Dad when you're off on a dirty weekend somewhere.

"I presume that's it. It has to be. She dated him once or twice and then he took off for the outback on location. Next thing Zoe's suddenly got an urgent business trip? Somehow, I don't think the two things are unrelated. Too much of a coincidence..."

Terry smiled to himself. It was amusing to see how they had both come to the same conclusion about chance occurrence but that what he had taken for a dangerous undercover operation could just as easily - much more likely, in fact - be his daughter snatching a bit of dirty ops of a very different type. "You think she fancies him? He's a nice bloke...decent guy..."

Annie grinned. "Well, obviously he did it for you then...!" He gave her one of his looks. It made her laugh even more. "Yeah, I think she is taken with him. Not that she's discussed it with me, of course. Even Brenda didn't have anything to report, only that she had enjoyed her dates, come home pretty elated - and that Jake hadn't slept with her yet or at least they don't appear to have taken it to another level, but you never know... But, I mean...they're not going to hang about, are they? He won't be able to keep his hands off her if he's a normal healthy male and she has to be terribly frustrated after all this time..."

Annie still clung to her belief that Zoe had not taken any lovers since Nick's death even though he was sure Brenda must have indicated to her that the girl regularly disappeared for the evening - and never gave any explanation afterwards. He didn't blame his wife for being in denial about the possible means Zoe was using to satisfy her loneliness. He wished he could take refuge in such assumptions himself.

"Yeah, I guess so. But I'd rather not give that one too much thought. As long as she's happy and careful...he seemed okay when we talked...smart kid...talented and quick on the uptake...."

"You said. Although I wonder how much of his good behaviour was a genuine desire to pick your brains about your work or how much was wanting to make a good impression on Zoe's father?" Annie added.

"You're such a cynic...!" Terry replied as he emptied the bottle. "Hey, you couldn't just take that pretty arse of yours into the kitchen and get me another of these, could you, babes?" She tutted at his laziness, but did it anyway. And he watched her go, never failing to enjoy the site of her shapely rump, especially when clad only in tight white shorts.

"Terry? When's Mummy coming home...? I miss her...!" Andreas climbed onto his knee and curled up, his thumb slipping into his mouth, a sure sign that he was emotionally upset. He was getting tired and as usual at such a time wishing his mother was there. Terry wondered if anything of their recent conversation had got through to him. Andreas could be amazingly perceptive especially if he thought the conversation was supposed to be for adults.

"She'll be back in the morning, mate. I know you miss her. I miss her, too. So does Nannie...Mum'll call later before bedtime..."

"She calls me every night," Andreas told him. "She's bringing me a present."

"You know she will. Imagine how she's missed you? Her big boy?"

Andreas wriggled deeper into his arms, needing the comfort, his mother clearly on his mind. "I don't like it when Mummy goes away..." he muttered almost to himself. Terry looked down at the perfect even features of this beautiful child and ran his fingers through the thick silky hair. It was like his father's, a little too long and unruly- some affectation of Zoe's that he doubted Nick would have had much patience with - and a similar glossy colour. His eyes were rich velvety brown, deep and expressive. One day he would be a glorious young man, possibly even more handsome than his father, Nick's chiselled features softened in this boy's prettier face. Terry fervently hoped he did not inherit his father's darker soul along with his other impressive physical attributes.

From time to time, a cast fell over the child's open expression; Terry could see it now. Andreas was a quiet, reserved child with a capacity for brooding that occasionally demonstrated itself. Terry saw it then and wondered what the child was thinking inside

The boy occasionally asked about his father and seemed to enjoy hearing about him. It was obvious as he grew that he was beginning to dwell on the fact that he didn't have two parents. Terry was unsure what Andreas understood of his own father's absence from his life. It was pretty meaningless to speak of death to a four year old and imagine that he could comprehend. Zoe had made sure that his environment was rich in images of Nick and she made no attempt to avoid the subject of his father, but the child mostly did not discuss it. Yet, Terry knew that as young as he was, he had to have a sense of loss. Other children had a mother and a father. He only had a mother. This rare trip away from home must have unsettled him. It was no wonder he was so clingy at the moment. Was he imagining that perhaps all adults can simply disappear from one's life as easily as his father had apparently taken himself from out of theirs?

"You getting sleepy? Or would you like to go for a walk on the beach before supper...?"

"Can Nannie come?" Andreas had always called Annie this. They suspected he thought that was her name. It was significant that he wanted them both close to him tonight.

"...Sure she can...I can't think of anything I would rather do than go have a walk

with my two favourite men..." Annie broke in as she returned with a fresh bottle of beer. "You better go for a wee, Andy. Let Terry finish his drink..."

"What about Uncle Liam? He's your best boy, too..."

"I am a very lucky girl, aren't I? I have three favourite boys...but only two are here today..." Annie chattered on to him as she led him inside to the bathroom. Terry watched them both go. Poor little fella. He was so in need of a father figure. It made his heart bleed to think of how he would never know the man who had fathered him and had to search for that role model instead in every man who touched his life.

 

*

 

Zoe reclined in the leather-seated luxury of her airline seat to Sydney. Such indulgences as first class were ones she was not prepared to forego, whatever covert op she had found herself involved in. She had money and saw no reason why she shouldn't use it to make herself more comfortable. There had to be some compensation for the other restrictions that her life had brought to her.

Closing her eyes, she thought about the past days and felt a frisson of pleasure for what she had done. It hadn't exactly been a dangerous field situation but as all such operations, it had carried with it an element that could have turned nasty. She had been carrying highly secret information and there were possibly people out there who would have tried to stop her had they known.

The consideration of whether or not it had been wise for a single mother to have done anything even remotely risky was one she was not prepared to acknowledge. For almost five years, she had accepted her lot and done everything she could to make a safe and happy home for her son. He was the light of her life, her night and day, the replacement for the man she still carried in her heart. Andreas was her reason for living. Without him, she was not sure she could have made it through those awful months after Nick had died. Their child had become all the reasons she needed to go on and make a good life. It was the duty that Nick had entrusted to her when he had handed his life over in exchange for theirs. No one could accuse her of failing him in that regard.

Yet, Nick had also made it clear to her in his final letter that he wanted her to find a future of her own. He wanted her to be fulfilled, to love again, to have other children, to leave the past behind. Zoe knew she was at a crossroads in her life. She wanted so much to shake off the lingering shadows of tragedy and loss and become a new person who was not merely shaped in the image of a former lover. It was easier to say, however, than accomplish. Nick still seemed to dominate her life now almost as much as he had done when he was alive. This step she had taken - this act that some might call reckless - was an important mechanism in freeing her from the tutelage he still held her in. It was even a way of establishing herself as something other than a mother to her son. She had to uncover the real Zoe that lay beneath it all, the young woman who had grown up far too soon, before she had even found out who she really was.

And if people found her guilty of a selfish act, then so be it. She had thought about it long and hard and it was her decision, right or wrong. The guilt - if there was any - was hers to carry. No one else needed to remind her of that. She was her father's daughter in that regard.

The man kept crossing her mind. Peter Mason, or whoever he was, had made an impression on her that she was reluctant to admit. He was all the things that she didn't really go for in a man. Or rather, he was all the things that were different from Nick Costello who had become for her the epitome of what a man ought to be. Yet, Mason's memory hovered unbidden in her subconscious. She kept wondering about him. What was his real name? It would have been nice to have met him in another circumstance and get to know what he was really like.

He had exuded an air of keen intelligence, carrying a natural gravity that had made him seem older than his years and yet his imposing physique and handsome open, almost boyish, face suggested a more sensual, virile man than his formally correct behaviour revealed. He had been hiding deep inside the exterior of professional distance that such men have mastered long ago. But his eyes gave him away. They had been incredibly expressive, a deep blue, framed by long thick lashes. She had seen in those eyes glimpses of the real man and he had been a very different animal from the cool sophisticated intelligence agent. She wished she could forget him but he kept insinuating himself into her thoughts unbidden. It was very strange and probably just a consequence of the adrenalin rush that the little episode had given her. Imagining a sexual interlude with a taciturn and manly spy was probably all part of the action in her fantasy.

She checked her watch. It was a little off eight a.m. With a bit of luck she would hit Sydney on time and be home by late morning. A little dart of joy leapt in her heart at the thought of being back again with her son. She had felt the lack of him every minute she had been away. At night she had curled up in the large hotel bed and imagined Andreas was in her arms. It was how she slept at night when away from him.

Zoe knew the two of them were probably too close. She needed to let the child free of her more. Sometimes she read an anxiety in him that was unusually mature for his age. He worried about his mother quite as much as she worried about him. If Andreas had had two parents, she doubted whether he would have ever felt that need. It worked both ways. She needed to let herself have more freedom from him, too. It was no use pretending to herself. Andreas was more than just her precious baby. He was the wall she used to keep the world at bay. But it was on the edge of unhealthy. She knew it even as she colluded to make it so.

This trip was probably a good learning experience for them both. She hoped and prayed Andreas hadn't been too damaged by it all. It seemed that, however hard you tried to make a child's life perfect and totally sheltered from any kind of darkness, even in that very act of protection might lie the seeds of later trauma. It was so unfair, such a minefield of potential snares. Sometimes she wondered whether fate rested more on a roll of the dice than the careful nurture of a loving parent. Her own life seemed to have only begun when she reached adulthood; the certainties gained from her happy childhood quickly blown away to be replaced with the unpalatable truths of life. But at least her parents had given her the tools to deal with what life had thrown at her. That was about as much as any parent could wish for their child.

Maybe that was why Andreas, even now as a little boy, needed to be challenged so that he too would be ready when life demanded a price back from him - as it inevitably would one day.

As the plane began its descent to the airport, Zoe forced herself to think of something more positive. Jake. He had called her several times during the past week or so and was planning to be back in Sydney for the forthcoming weekend. As a visiting celebrity to these shores, he had been invited to a music awards ceremony to present one of the gongs. He wanted her to be his escort for the occasion. She guessed Liam would be there, too, probably even playing a set. It would be a fun night with probably an after party to attend and then - who knew what? She might end up in bed with Jake. Why not? He deserved it for his attention and friendship. She wanted to anyway. He was pretty hot and sexy in his laid back, funny way. It would be good to sleep with a guy for more than just his cock.

But if she dated Jake much more, it would be a relationship. The very word seemed to fill her with dread. She wasn't sure that she was ready to put someone else's needs up there alongside those of her son and herself.

Yet, there was nothing wrong with going out with a nice guy and having a boyfriend. Everyone did it. Everyone, but Zoe Costello. 

She stared out of the window as they banked over the Harbour, preparing the final descent into Kingsford Smith, watching the perfect shadow of the plane as it was reflected in the deep blue waters. The bays that clustered round the Opera House so far below looked like a child's plaything. Down there somewhere was her home, her son - and her reality.

 

To Part Two

The featured song: My Lover's Gone by Dido.

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