A Dangerous Liaison Part One Read online

  Cooper glared like he wanted to kill me with his eyes. But I was too far gone to worry about that.

  I strode up to the whiteboard, where the gruesome photos of the victims had been pinned. Then I pulled one of the photos off the board, and threw it at him. It hit his chest and fell to the floor.

  His eyes never left me.

  I pulled off another photo and hurled it at him, as if it could transmit my anger to him.

  “You know these are real people, right?”

  His nostrils flared.

  I threw another. An elderly woman who’d been gunned down outside her apartment two weeks ago.

  “What about her? She’s real, right?”

  I threw another, then another. “And him, and her.” The photos hit his chest one after another, and fell to the floor. A few agents were still in the room. Maybe that was why Cooper still hadn’t responded.

  “We need to find the killers now!” I shouted, my eyes stinging. “We can’t let any more people die. And this mystery man is our only lead.”

  The pile of photographs lay by Cooper’s feet. The room was dead silent. He paused for a long moment staring at them, then looked up.

  “Everyone leave the room, except you, Agent Anderson.”

  The room emptied. Then Cooper and I were alone.

  He walked over to me, treading on the victims’ photos as he did. Then he grabbed my arm and leaned in close.

  I flinched but held his gaze. No way was I going to back down.

  “Agent, you need to rein your neck in,” he said in a quiet, venomous voice. “You’re already skating on thin ice. You’re one fuck-up away from being thrown out of the Bureau.”

  He leaned in even closer, and whispered.

  “Do you understand me, Agent?”

  I nodded.

  “Yes sir.”

  There was no point in pushing Cooper anymore. He’d made up his mind. He could send me back to New York with a word. And then I’d never find the mystery man. I could not, would not allow that to happen. Because every nerve and fiber of my body told me that I was meant to be here, in Rome, right now. That meeting this man was what every second of my life till now had been leading to.

  I had to stay here for the sake of all those dead and soon-to-be-dead Americans, and for my own sake. I had to stay and I had to find this man, because in my heart I knew my life depended on it.

  Chapter 3

  Alec

  It was 6 a.m. I was in my apartment high above Piazza Navona, lying on my bed, trying to deal with the headache from hell. I pressed the cold tumbler against my forehead and let out a breath. The headaches were getting worse. This one was had been biggest doozy of them all. I winced as a particularly vicious throb struck my temple. It felt like there was a devil inside my head with a hammer, banging on my skull. Every movement made the pain worse. I wanted to curl up and lie completely still for the next 24 hours.

  I rolled the cool glass back and forth over my forehead, trying to rub away some of the pain. The chalky taste from the double-strength aspirin was still in my mouth, but the aspirin had done nothing.

  I’d had the headaches for years. But the visions, and everything that went with them, were new. They’d started three months ago. It was always the same.

  I’d see those blue flashing lights; seconds later the headache would hit, then the vision. Only it wasn’t just a vision. I heard, felt, and saw everything. It was so vivid I’d thought I was going crazy the first time it happened.

  The visions always had the same pattern. Someone was in trouble. It could be a young girl, old guy, a middle-aged mother, anyone. They were about to be killed. It could be a gang of thugs with knives, or a lone gunman. Whatever, I saw it through the victim’s eyes, and felt their fear in my body.

  Then the compulsion came. There was no way I could refuse it. I had to save the victim. Nothing was more important. It didn’t matter that I had never met the person before, that I didn’t know them, or want to – I had to save them. Their life was more important than mine. And then I acted – with a speed and aggression that surprised even me. Of course I was always close enough to get there in time. And somehow I knew how to find them.

  Afterward I was like this. Laid up in bed for a day or two feeling like I had the mother of all hangovers.

  I took another gulp of the whiskey and rolled the cool glass over my forehead.

  It made no sense

  I wasn’t a bad guy, but I wasn’t a bleeding heart either. Before, I’d thought talking to the people I’d saved might help. If I could understand how they were linked, what the connection between them was – because there had to be a connection – then I might be able to stop it. Or so I thought. But talking to the victims never helped. They were as clueless as me, and seemed to have nothing in common, apart from being US citizens.

  And now the police were after me.

  My mind went back to the latest episode. It had been a close thing with that cop. But I’d reached him before he got his gun out, and knocked him off his feet with a hard push in the chest. I’d only hurt his pride. I’d headed on to the crowded streets, then for some reason I stopped and turned around.

  That was when I’d seen the female FBI Agent. She was standing at the entrance to the alley. She hadn’t seen me. I only saw her for a few seconds, but every detail was burned onto my brain. I remember the compassion in her eyes. The way she pushed a loose lock of her blond hair behind her ear, and the way her lips set in grim determination. Then it hit me – such an overwhelming feeling of familiarity that every muscle in my face went slack. How did I even know she was FBI?

  Then I’d snapped back into the real world. The noises, sounds, and smells of Rome had come rushing back at me, and I’d know I had to get out of there before she noticed the six-two guy who looked like he’d just stepped out of a platoon movie, and started asking questions.

  I’d expected to forget her. I mean, there was no reason not to. I had plenty on my mind. Plenty to worry about – like how bad the next headache would be – and whether I’d be compelled to dive into a burning building or off a bridge to save the next victim.

  But I didn’t forget her. Her face, with those sapphire-blue eyes, was imprinted on my mind. It was as if I’d always known her.

  I shook my head and took another sip of the whiskey.

  Maybe the headaches were finally driving me crazy.

  Petra

  I was on my way to the office. It was only a short walk from my apartment and I knew I could grab a coffee on the way, to kick-start my brain. After a few minutes I found what I was looking for ­ an Internet cafe. I went in, ordered an espresso, and logged on. I could have used the police department’s database, but what I was interested in could be found in the local newspapers. I was looking for a pattern. For anything we’d missed. Particularly for any further reports of this mystery man.

  I went through local newspaper reports, starting three months ago. My stomach clenched as I read through the reports. Even after years in this job I was shocked by the depths to which people would go. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I thought humanity had no compassion at all.

  For the first few weeks the murders dominated the front pages. But as the weeks passed they appeared further and further back. I wasn’t sure if it was because the Italian readers were getting bored with the story, or because the editorial team had been told to hide the killings from their readership.

  Then I froze, and caught my breath. I was looking at a report in the Rome Times from a couple of weeks ago.

  This one was different.

  A middle-aged American woman was saved from a mugging today by a mystery man. He had an American accent, and was over 6 feet tall. He was wearing a green shirt and blue jeans. The witness said he looked unwell. The police would like to talk to this man to help them with their inquiries and also provide any medical help he may need.

  My skin goose-bumped. It was him again. Suddenly the conviction that this man was important to me personal
ly came back, so strongly it took my breath away. I forced myself to concentrate.

  It was obvious the Italian police knew about this man. They’d been quoted in the newspaper report. They knew that he’d saved the victims before. So why hadn’t they said anything? They were only two possibilities: conspiracy or incompetence.

  I read through the newspapers to date. There were several more reports of a mystery man saving an American citizen from a brutal death, often risking his own life, and usually outnumbered three or four to one. He always knew the right time and place to appear. He always looked like he was in pain – often he vomited. The witnesses described him as distracted, frenzied, or red-eyed. But whatever the description of his physical appearance, he always saved their lives.

  I sat back and let out a long slow breath.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I couldn’t even begin to explain this – but I knew one thing. I had to persuade Cooper to help me find this guy.

  Alec

  I was sitting in a cafe in the square opposite the Pantheon. On the table in front of me was an as yet untouched rich Italian espresso coffee. I could smell the rich aroma. I took a sip, savoring the smooth taste.

  Most army guys were happy with any old Army-brew instant coffee but I enjoyed the good stuff. I put the cup back down and let out a long breath and flexed my sore shoulders.

  I was aching from head to toe. Not from the fight with those three thugs, but from the vision. It was always the same pattern. Aura, vision, headache, then compulsion, then nausea, and finally muscle aches for days after.

  I took another sip of the coffee and looked around the square. It was 10 a.m. and crowded with tourists and locals. I’d heard someone say there was some kind of religious festival later. That would explain the crowds. The Romans were very religious people, Catholics mostly, and took their religious festivals seriously.

  I’d been thinking about my visions. Trying to work out why they’d changed recently – and why I’d felt the need to come to Rome. It wasn’t as powerful a compulsion as I felt during the visions but there was still no way I could have refused it.

  I’d just woken up one morning and knew I had to come here.

  I’d had the visions before – and saved people – but since I got here things had gotten a lot more intense. The symptoms – the headaches, the nausea, the vividness of the visions, and the fatigue afterwards – had all shifted up a couple of notches. And I’d been getting them more often: three in the last two weeks. Pretty soon I was going to have to start wearing a baseball cap and a pair of dark glasses to hide my face. Either that or go the whole hog and get a mask and a cape.

  I laughed – making my jaw ache. Jesus, everything hurt. Gingerly I shifted my jaw left and right.

  Then the aura came. I knew it was going to be a bad one. Usually I had at least four days between each episode. It had only been 48 hours since the girl in the alley. The vision followed swiftly after. A young mother and her daughter walking into the path of a reversing delivery truck. The daughter clutched an old teddy bear in her hand. The mother looked distracted, pulling the little girl along behind her. Usually the visions stopped with a warning. But this time it fast-forwarded into the future.

  The girl dropped her tatty teddy bear, screamed, and yanked on her mother’s arm.

  “Teddy!”

  Her mother didn’t seem to hear her. She pulled her daughter in the opposite direction – so they were a stationary target for the reversing truck.

  Even though part of me knew the vision wasn’t real – not yet – I flinched, wanting to cry out.

  “No!”

  Then the truck’s engine screamed, as it accelerated and plowed into mother and daughter.

  A wave of despair hit me. When the truck stopped both mother and daughter were under the wheels. The girl’s teddy bear lay on the ground inches from her hand. It was covered in her blood.

  The searing headache brought me out of the vision.

  60 seconds.

  Shit.

  Then the compulsion struck. Only I didn’t need it this time. After what I’d seen I’d do anything to save them. I jumped up, knocking the table and chairs to one side, then froze.

  I knew where the mother and the little girl should be, but the square was packed – even more now than ten minutes ago. I stood on my toes, giving me a good six inches over everyone else in the square, and scanned left and right.

  Inside my mind a clock ticked.

  55, 54, 53.

  With each beat the pressure to act increased exponentially. I was like a pressure cooker about to explode. I stood there flexing and unflexing my hands looking desperately from left to right. Then I saw them, over 200 meters away, on the other side of the square.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I pushed through the crowd.

  The truck was almost on them. I could barely see straight, from the pain and the tears in my eyes. But knowing time was up, I dived at where I thought they were, stretching out my arms. Mid-dive I met the woman’s eyes. Her face was a mask of horror – her eyes wide. She must have thought I was some kind of psycho, attacking her and her daughter.

  Then I was on them, scooping them both up in my arms and rolling away from the truck. At the last instant I caught sight of the truck’s wheels almost on me, in the corner of my eye, and realized I wasn’t going to make it – not cleanly anyway. So I flexed my arms and shoved the woman and her child to safety.

  As I did the compulsion left me. A strange sensation, as I was still in the truck’s path. I twisted and rolled away but the truck caught my foot. I was thrown into the nearby crowd and thankfully everything went black.

  When I came around there was a crowd around me.

  “He’s waking up.”

  “Give him some room.”

  My head felt like it was splitting in two. I pushed myself into a sitting position, dimly aware of the voices.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Don’t get up.”

  I spotted the mother and daughter a few feet away being comforted by an old woman. The little girl had the teddy bear held tight in her hand.

  There was no blood on it.

  I smiled and pushed myself to my feet. I had to get out of there.

  Petra

  I walked out of the coffee shop full of excitement. This was the break we’d been looking for. I had enough evidence now to force Cooper to put everything we had into finding this mystery guy.

  I hustled down the street, my mind spinning.

  What was the connection between this guy and me? Why was finding him so important? It was so frustrating. I knew the answer like it was a forgotten name on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t quite remember. I guessed I just had to follow my instincts. All I knew was that I was close to something momentous. I just couldn’t put it into words. My throat was tight, my stomach clenched. I didn’t know if I was scared or excited; all I knew was it was the most important time of my life.

  Then I realized I was crying. I was walking along the street with tears flooding down my cheeks.

  Why?

  It was something to do with that yawning emptiness in my soul. That was it. Somehow I knew that I was close to finding an answer. I dipped my head, wiping my eyes, and feeling dumb and crazy all at one. But I hadn’t slowed down. As I turned a corner I felt like I’d walked into a brick wall. I bounced back a couple of steps, looked up, and stopped breathing.

  I was looking up into the face of a man in his late twenties. He was much taller than me – broad and muscular. His jaw was strong and covered in a rough carpet of stubble. He was wearing an olive green shirt, and blue Levis. He looked like an extremely capable Special Forces ex-soldier. His forehead had a sheen of sweat on it, as if he’d just exerted himself. And his eyes were red and tight with pain, but behind the pain was a world of exhaustion, that he was somehow holding back.

  He’s the guy you’ve been looking for. You should arrest him and take him in to Cooper for questioning.

/>   The thought was drowned out by the tsunami of emotions flooding through every nerve in my body.

  As I looked up at him, my face slack, I felt something inside me break. Some tension that I’d been holding onto for the last ten years. I was crying again. I felt insanely happy, scared and confused, and I had no idea why.

  His eyes hadn’t left mine since we’d bumped into each other. I noticed now that behind the redness they were a rich blue. The color of the deep ocean.

  The world outside seemed to fade away. Our bodies were inches apart, arms by our sides, frozen like a couple of manikins. My heart was hammering, my stomach upside down.

  Unconsciously our faces drifted towards each other, in a way that felt so right, so familiar.

  I felt his hand on the back of my neck. His touch sent a jolt through me like a thousand volts of electricity, and suddenly I wasn’t in Rome anymore. I was back on the beach with the man in my dream ­ feeling waves of euphoria wash through me, feeling safe and excited in his arms, knowing that he was the one.

  I lifted my head, and felt his lips on mine. I was kissing the man in my dream, and this stranger in front of me, at the same time. Again my rational mind wanted to analyze that, work it out. But I pushed it away. He pulled me close to him, lifting me onto my tiptoes. He was kissing me. I was kissing him – and that was all that mattered. He held me tight and I melted into his arms.

  I was dimly aware that the street was more crowded now. There was a religious festival on today with a parade planned. There would be thousands of people crammed into the narrow streets. Then someone knocked into us, separating us.

  We started into each other’s eyes – I could see the confusion on his face. The street was packed now with people, pushing and jostling us.

  “Who are you?” I said. My voice sounded alien and thin to me.

  He opened his mouth to answer, then my phone buzzed. Reflexively I looked down, and when I looked up a fraction of second later he was gone.