America. Not home for Finn, and it hadn’t been for a long time. More than that, the country – much like England – carried a darkness that he’d long turned his back on and didn’t want to think about or have as part of his life again. He certainly wouldn’t have returned out of choice.
Was it essential he came to America for an escape or had Victor deliberately chosen there as a means to cause further problems for Finn?
Two long, boring, frustrating days passed at the downtown Atlanta hotel, a stone’s throw from the Georgia State Capitol building that closely resembled its larger and more illustrious cousin a few hundred miles away in the nation’s capital. Two buildings so intrinsically linked to the working machinations of the world’s most powerful country. Elliott Charlton presumably worked in both at various times. Finn wasn’t sure how that made him feel to be so close now…
‘How much longer?’ he asked Victor during their latest conversation, as he stared out of the window at the grey buildings and the grey sky above them.
‘Before the weekend,’ Victor said, ‘I hope.’
Was it really that difficult to get him back to Mexico?
Of course, Finn realized he didn’t have to stay in Atlanta, or even the US, really. He had his passport, he had plenty of money – he could go anywhere. Except England, of course. And Mexico, apparently. But what if he simply defied Victor and went there anyway?
Worst case was that he got arrested the moment he stepped off the plane and found himself without Victor’s aid from then on.
He hated that he was now so tied to the man.
‘Do you have any more information on Henning?’ Finn asked. ‘About who he was working with to set me up?’
‘No,’ Victor said. ‘You’re the one who’s good at digging. I have Helen out there working on your behalf, but it’s only to play the legal game, not to spy on your newfound enemies. Last I heard she thinks the police won’t push forward with a prosecution due to lack of evidence, but—’
‘But that’s not the point. Henning can’t get away with this.’
‘You don’t even know for sure he was behind it.’
‘Yeah? Then who else?’
‘Maybe… I don’t know, Finn. How many people have you crossed in England, across Europe in the past? A man with your… tactics.’
‘I didn’t see you complaining about my tactics before.’
‘And I’m not complaining now. Just explaining. And I wouldn’t be talking to you now if I still didn’t want you around.’ He sighed before carrying on. ‘I’ll be in touch when I have any good news. And I’m sure we’ll be face to face soon enough.’
Finn didn’t hang around in the hotel room for long after that. He’d had enough of hotel rooms and of the city. He hired a car and took to the roads, feeling a certain freedom in doing so. He had a whole country to explore around him. Or he could head west to the border and be in Mexico in a few hours.
Instead he headed northward – or was he subconsciously pulled there? Not a long drive at all really, and not long after setting off he parked up outside a large, detached house in the affluent East Cobb community in Marietta, only a few miles away from downtown Atlanta.
He stared at the house off to the passenger’s side, saw the Range Rover parked up on the drive. Someone was home. Even though he’d never been on this street before, something about the house felt familiar. Exactly the type of place Finn imagined his brother would live.
He had a wife now, apparently.
Curtis’s life had turned out exactly as he’d always wanted it to. Safe. Steady. And Finn felt all the more bitter for it.
Incoming call. Mariana.
‘You’re still in Atlanta?’ she asked.
‘Not right now.’
‘No?’
‘Just exploring.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where to?’
‘Nowhere exciting. I just needed a break from the city.’
‘I miss you,’ she said.
‘I miss you too. How’s Columbia?’
A pause. ‘It’s good. Long hours, but good.’
‘Victor thinks I could be home before the weekend. Hopefully you will be too.’
‘I hope so. I really want to see you.’
‘You could come here. There’s nothing stopping you.’
‘Nothing? This project isn’t nothing, I’ve—’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Bad use of words. That’s not what I meant. I just… I need you, Mariana.’
‘I know. Me too. Finn, do you—’
‘Hold on a second.’
He whipped the phone away and slid down in his seat when he spotted the figure approaching from behind the car. In the orange streetlight he couldn’t make out the person clearly, but… familiarity still. An unmistakable frame and an unmistakable gait.
Curtis.
Finn watched as his brother – wearing running gear – walked right on past, oblivious, and up the drive of his posh house. He opened the front door and Finn caught a glimpse of the smart-looking hallway beyond and a woman standing at the far end with a wine glass in hand.
The front door closed. Finn realized he was smiling. Not the reaction he’d expected at all.
‘Finn?’
He brought the phone back up. ‘I’m still here.’
‘I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you soon?’
‘You will.’
The call ended and Finn sat there a while, staring at his brother’s house. No more sign of either of them. He couldn’t get rid of the gnawing feeling in his gut. Not bitterness anymore. Not regret, either, nor pride, but some strange mixture that contained all those elements somehow.
He thought about knocking on the door. Really, what was the harm in doing so? If Curtis smacked him in the face, then so what? Finn could walk away and never return. No real damage done. Surely better to try that than to do nothing at all.
No. He started up the car, swung it around and headed back for the interstate.
His mind weighed heavy as he drove. Seeing his brother had rattled him. A lingering doubt that he couldn’t explain and couldn’t quite grasp.
He picked up the phone to call Mariana to tell her his decision.
But he didn’t make the call. He didn’t need to. It’d be clear to her, and to Victor soon enough.
He put the phone down, mind made up.
He wasn’t staying in Atlanta, or America, another night. He was flying back to Mexico. Victor could either help to smooth things over for his return or not. His choice.
A choice that would reveal a lot about the billionaire’s true intentions.
* * *
In the end, Finn didn’t try to contact Victor or Mariana or anyone else again after leaving East Cobb. He headed straight for the airport but then had to wait through the night for the first available flight early the next morning. A long, boring, uncomfortable night, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to stay in the US a moment longer, and being in the airport at least felt he like was moving on.
He turned his phone back on when the plane touched down at Cancun airport. Still no contact from either his boss or his girlfriend.
He sighed and watched as the cabin crew readied for disembarkation. This was the moment he’d been building up to. The cabin crew opened the door…
A good start. No surge of Mexican police or border patrol or whoever coming on board to accost him. The passengers in front filed out, one after the other, until the path was clear for Finn.
He walked steadily, purposefully to the exit and smiled and said goodbye to the cheery crew members.
No one waiting for him on the gangway.
But then, why would there be, really? If he’d not told anyone he was coming, why would the Mexican authorities have been alerted?
Except for the fact that he’d skipped bail in England a few days ago and was now traveling back to a country where – at least according to Victor – he remained on the police blacklist. Didn’t countries share passenger manifest details with each other for the very purpose of stopping wanted people from traveling?
Apparently not, because he’d already safely traveled from London to Atlanta, and now to Mexico without a hitch.
He carried on moving with the other passengers toward the passport checks. With his work visa still valid, he shouldn’t have any delays…
None at all. The guard behind the Perspex glass glared at him a couple of times but the looks were nothing more than customary, and soon Finn had his passport in his hand once more as he walked on through.
By the time he sat in a taxi on the way back to his apartment, he didn’t know whether to feel relief or anger – relief to be back on familiar soil, comforting soil, but anger at the delay in getting him here since his release from jail in London. Anger specifically at one man for the delay.
The journey through the light morning traffic was easy, and after Finn paid the driver he made his way into the building.
‘Good morning, Mr Delaney,’ the concierge, Luis, said, standing up from his desk with a wide smile when he saw Finn walking in.
‘Morning.’
‘I haven’t seen you for a while.’
‘No,’ Finn said. ‘But I’m back now. For good.’
Luis didn’t seem to know how to take that, and his smile faltered a little as Finn strode on past. He went up to the ninth floor, noting the same old smell of cleaner on the communal corridor. A pleasant smell. Mariana had said it was citrus. Finn didn’t know – only that it reminded him of home. Of her.
He opened up, expected to hear the blips of the alarm. Nothing. But he did hear something.
TV on.
‘Mariana?’
A thud from the lounge. He closed the door behind him and the next moment there she was. Standing in the doorway. Silk robe on. Her hair wet from a shower.
‘Finn?’
She looked shocked more than anything. For about two seconds, anyway, before she raced up to him and jumped into his arms. He grabbed her and she wrapped her legs around him. Her wet hair flopped in his face, her robe opened up, her skin underneath the smooth fabric warm and still moist, and for a moment he managed to push any troubles, any doubts in his mind far, far away.
Mariana squealed in delight before planting a series of kisses on his neck, cheeks and lips.
‘OK, OK!’ he said, and eventually she jumped down from him.
‘You’re back!’ she said. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘And you’re back too.’
She looked a little bit more unsure of herself at that, and fiddled with the cord on her robe, covering herself up. ‘We got back late last night.’
‘You didn’t say.’
‘Oh, it’s all just been so crazy, but we did it, Finn. We got the deal through!’
He wanted to feel pleased for her, but he simply didn’t.
‘And now you’re back!’ she added before hugging him again. Not quite so excitedly this time. At least not on his part.
‘I just… I’ve had a hell of a few days.’
‘You poor thing.’ She reached up and kissed his cheek again, but conciliatory this time. ‘You don’t have any luggage.’
He hadn’t bothered bringing any of the clothes he’d bought to see him through his time in Atlanta – he’d dropped them by the feet of a sleeping homeless man. As for everything in England, the necklace he’d bought her…
‘Long story,’ he said.
He moved past her, along the corridor, past their bedroom. All looked neat and tidy in there. Into the lounge. He sniffed. Coffee. Something had been cooking too.
Something else…
‘You’ve just eaten?’ he asked Mariana, as she came in behind him.
‘Yeah. I can make you something?’
He didn’t answer.
‘New air freshener or something?’ he said, taking another whiff. What was that?
Mariana just looked confused. Finn glanced to the kitchen. Spotless. He moved to the dishwasher and opened the door a couple of inches to peek inside. When he turned back around Mariana was standing the other side of the kitchen, looking on anxiously.
‘You had company for breakfast?’ he asked.
She didn’t answer, even if it looked like she was trying to find the words.
‘Victor was here,’ Finn said, already feeling anger rising. He really didn’t want it to break out… ‘Or if not Victor, then who?’
‘Yes,’ she said, sounding pathetic and dejected as though she’d been wronged somehow. ‘Victor… came over this morning.’
‘Because?’
‘Because he told me to have the day off, but he wanted a quick debrief before he went to work.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Finn, what—’
‘Is he still here?’
Finn marched past her, toward the bedroom door. He gazed into the room, to the en suite beyond. Empty.
‘Finn, this is crazy!’
‘Is it? So where’s he hiding?’ He stormed to the wardrobes and hauled the doors open. Nothing but clothes and shoes.
He spun around. Mariana grabbed him.
‘Please, Finn, stop.’
He did, as he stared over to the bed. Their bed. So tidy and neat. But…
He heard a noise above the sound of the TV. He pulled from her grip and darted out of the room, to the door for the utility. Opened it. The washing machine quietly whirred away, water glugging, a frothy mess behind the glass, but quite clear what lay beyond.
‘Washing the sheets?’ Finn asked.
Mariana scrunched her face and looked at him with disgust. ‘Yes, I’m washing the damn sheets. I’ve been away for nearly two weeks. Everything was musty and—’
‘You expect me to believe that you came back late in the night, woke up this morning, Victor came over for a breakfast meeting—’ he made air quotes for that one ‘—then he leaves and you shower and wash the bedding, just… because?’
She threw her hand up to her head, exasperated. ‘Yes!’ she shouted. ‘Because what’s the alternative?’
He thought that was pretty damn obvious.
He marched back into the lounge, caught that lingering odor in his throat again. Not the food. Victor. His aftershave. It made Finn’s mind swirl with rage.
‘Luis said hi when I came in,’ Finn said, turning back to face Mariana.
‘So?’
‘So if I went downstairs and asked him if he saw Victor turn up this morning? Or perhaps Victor walking in last night with you? Perhaps he’ll show me the CCTV so I can find out exactly who’s been coming and going and when. What do you think I’ll see, Mariana?’
She glared at him but said nothing.
‘If you want to change your story, now’s the time.’
‘There is no story!’ she shouted. Angry now too. ‘Come on, Finn.’ Egging him on. ‘You want to say it, say it. Ask me what you’re thinking. Put it out there. Show me how little you think of me.’
‘Are you fucking Victor?’
She held his eye. He didn’t know whether she was about to break down in tears or come at him raging.
‘You piece of shit,’ she said, voice quavering before she turned and walked off.
Finn slumped down on the sofa, still struggling to control his rage.
He lifted his head back to look up to the ceiling as though doing so would help calm him or appease him. He wanted so badly to be wrong, but he just couldn’t get there. Too many inconsistencies, too many conveniences.
He jumped a little when he heard the front door bang shut.
She’d run off. What did that say?
He took a few minutes more to try and calm down and see sense. He took a shower. It didn’t really help. All he could think of was Victor and Mariana standing in there, rubbing their hands all over each other’s bodies as the water cascaded.
He still had that grotesque vision in his head as he traipsed down the stairs to the concierge desk.
‘Mr Delaney,’ Luis said, as he rose to his feet.
‘A quick question,’ Finn said.
‘Certainly.’
‘You know Victor Travers, right?’
‘Mr Travers? Yes, of course.’
‘You see him come here much?’
Worried. Luis definitely looked worried.
‘There’s no problem,’ Finn said, trying to sound reassuring. ‘It’s just… Did you see him come over during the night. On his own. Or with Mariana?’
‘In the night?’ He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
‘You were on last night?’
‘I don’t… think I saw him. It could be I was out back or—’
‘Did you see Mariana?’
‘Yes, she left just now.’ He pointed outside as though hoping Finn would go that way too and stop bothering him.
‘But last night.’
A pause. ‘No.’
Finn sighed. ‘And this morning? Mr Travers?’
‘Yes, I saw him leave earlier.’
Luis looked startled a moment after he said that, as though he wished he hadn’t.
‘And you saw him come in this morning too?’ Finn asked.
Luis opened his mouth but then slowly shook his head. Did he understand what was going on or was he only nervy because of Finn’s mood?
‘You didn’t see him arrive this morning?’
‘I don’t remember seeing him. But I’m not here at the desk the whole time.’
Finn could take the conversation a step further to be sure…
No need. The evidence, the feeling in his gut was too strong to be wrong.
‘Thanks,’ Finn said, turning away.
‘Maybe I just… missed him.’
Finn didn’t bother to respond to the weak proposition. Luis didn’t need to justify anything, anyway – it wasn’t his fault.
It was Mariana’s fault. It was Victor’s fault.
Victor bloody Travers.
Rich, powerful. So what? Finn had taken on men like him before.
He’d do so again.
Victor Travers was not Finn’s friend. He never had been, he never would be.
Time for some payback.