Chapter 9

The coffee strong and fragrant, washes away my doubts and clears my thinking, although granted, it
leaves me with my problem.

How to find Juliana?

And what is the significance of the invoice addresses?

I let my mind freewheel, caffeine lubricating the gears.

What's the connection?

?

?

Back to basics...

Finchby’s invoices...

Taken from his own files…

Supply addresses from legitimate businesses…

… Listing women, children… Human cargo.

???

That can't possibly be what went through the customs checks...

Duplicate documents then?

Same references. Same monetary values. Different cargo.



That would seem logical: A parallel accounting system: one for the outside world, one for private
records.

Yes, that works. Any competent criminal could make that work. And doubtless, with the money
involved, they’d have accountants and bookkeepers… Perhaps even customs officers and tax
inspectors on the payroll.

But none of that gives me the connection to Antonio’s bar or any of the others.

Why here?

Frustrated, mind spiralling inward…

Damn the coffee…

… I order another beer.

*****

 

Charlotte

“Charlotte, it’s a beautiful day…” My Master stands by the nursery door, wearing the jeans and boots
he uses for riding, and a thick cable-knit sweater… “…I’m going to take Oliver out. Want to come?”

It is indeed a lovely day, with a crisp snap to the air. And the sunshine is that brilliant clear white you
only get in cold winter weather.

“I’d love to. And Charlie could use the exercise. Um…” I look down to my tiny daughter, blinking at the
mobile rotating above her in the cot, trying, with unformed muscles, to reach for a glitter-pink unicorn.



“I’ll keep an eye on Cara.” My Mom smiles from her rocking chair next to mine. “She’ll probably sleep
anyway.”

“Can you give me five minutes, just while Cara drops off?”

“Of course I can.” My Master takes the few steps to bring him close to me, then reaches down with a
long finger, stroking Cara’s cheek. His face might seem impassive to any that didn’t know him, but I see
the hidden smile behind his eyes. Our daughter burbles a bit but doesn’t seem to mind. “Take all the
time you need,” he says. “I’ll be with the horses, saddling up.”

*****

In the stable, my Master glances up from where he is checking Charlie’s girth. “All ready for you.”
Straightening up, he runs over me with his eyes. “You’re wearing plenty of layers? It’s cold out there.”

I tug down the neck of my roll-top pullover. “Two woollens, a cotton top and a thermal vest Mom
insisted I put on.”

His lips twitch, then he stoops by Charlie, locking his hands into a cup. “C’mon, I’ll give you a leg up.”

Oliver is stamping and snorting, eager to be off. My Master slaps him on the shoulder then runs a hand
up his neck. “Shhhh… Calm down. We’re going now.” Oliver’s ears flick forward, but he settles long
enough for my Master to mount. “Walk on.”

As we make our way through the yard, he says, “I thought we might take the path through the top field
then loop back for the trail through the woods.”

“Great idea.”

*****



It’s simply magical: just me and my wonderful Master, riding together as though there were no-one else
in the world. The ground is firm with the cold and Oliver is trying to take the bit. Head tossing, his gait
dancing between a walk and a trot, everything about him says Go…

“He needs to run,” says my Master, then eyes Charlie, also performing, jarring under me. “They both
do. They’ll settle after they’ve burned off some energy.”

“Race you to the end of the field?”

He raises a finger. “Only to the fence. No jumping. That gate is too high…”

But his final words are lost to the wind as I kick heels at Charlie, and she moves from trot to canter to
gallop in fewer hoofbeats than I can count.

Only for seconds do I have the lead. Oliver is larger and heavier, more powerful, than Charlie and
almost immediately, he thunders up, first closing behind me, then alongside, snorting steam as he pulls
ahead. But as her son begins to draw away, Charlie jolts under me with another burst of speed and as
we reach the end of the field, Charlie and Oliver, mother and son, my Master and I, are neck and neck.

“Whoa…” He pulls Oliver to a standstill and I do the same. I’m grinning like a maniac, panting, my
blood racing. My Master’s eyes are soft. “It’s good to see you smiling properly at last.”

“Ah, that was great.” I scan the field, stretching down the mountain, the lake glittering at the bottom, the
air frigid and fresh. Oliver and Charlie blow blue from their nostrils. “It’s so good to be able to move
again properly. Sometimes, it’s just good to be alive, isn’t it.”

“So it is.” He reaches out, lifting the long arm of the gate latch to let me through, clucks Oliver along
behind me, and lets the gate swing closed.

We follow the bridle path that will take us to the trail through the woods.



“Charlotte, there’s something I want to ask you.”

“What’s that, Master?” I try to sound bright, but inside me, something knots. I think I know what’s
coming.

He doesn’t speak for a few seconds…

Choosing his words?

“Charlotte, you know that Georgie is still staying in the hotel...”

Yes… Georgie…

“… I’m keeping her there for now. At least long enough to be sure the threat’s diminished.”

“What about her?” I try to keep the edge out of my voice, but I’m not sure I succeed.

He gives me a sharp look, but his voice remains mild. “I would like to invite her for dinner one evening.”

“Dinner? At home, you mean? In our home? Back at the house?”

“Yes, of course, back at the house.” He’s sounding irritable. “Where else?”

“But… you can eat with her in the restaurant. Or… Or… You could take her somewhere in the City.
Somewhere nice, that you’d both enjoy. A nice little Italian place maybe.”

Sidelong, his eyes are slitting. “The point, Charlotte, is that Georgie would like to meet you…
Properly… In a family environment.”

I want to protest.

I want to scream and screech and shout.



I want to cry…

“But, Master, Georgie hates me. She made that clear when we met that first time. She didn’t want to
know me. She was horrible. Not just to me. To you too…”

He cuts me short. “Things have changed, Charlotte. Yes, Georgie was sharp with you. But she’s sorry.
She wants to apologise. She wants to get to know her sister.” He softens. “Don’t you think Cara should
be able to meet her sister?”

“Georgie’s only her half-sister.” But even as the words come out, I know I sound petulant.

The sharpness is back in his voice. “And what does that matter?” He pulls up on the reins and Oliver
drops to a walk, then halts. Charlie halts by him. My Master does not look happy. “Are you telling me,
Charlotte, that you do not want, ever, to have my other daughter into our home?”

I have no words. I don’t want to speak. Instead, I flick the reins and move Charlie along. After a few
moments, I hear Oliver’s hoofbeats too.

*****


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