Reckoning

Chapter 1The office of Dr. Claire Reynolds at the London Clinic on Harley Street was on the ground floor at the back of the building. Like every other department of the exclusive, private hospital, the waiting area was luxurious, with a thick Persian rug on the floor and excellent artwork on the walls. Fists clenched, his teeth gritted in anger, Kael Saunders sat in a leather wing chair and stared at a painting by Francis Bacon, heavily framed and behind glass, as the artist preferred. Bacon was a genius, but he was also a bit mad; he must have been to produce the works that had made him famous. Kael had heard the same said about him. A woman, who appeared to be in her mid-fifties, was dressed in a dowdy tweed skirt and matching jacket with lace-up shoes. She walked out of the office, looked at a chart and then up at him. “Mr. Saunders?” “Yes.” If he said anything else, it would include the string of expletives that were circulating in his brain and ready at any moment to fall from his tongue. “Please come in.” Following the woman into the office, he saw what he expected, a desk situated before the window with a traditional-style wood-framed armchair in front of it and a leather swivel chair behind it. In the center of the room was a leather love seat with a comfortable, matching armchair opposite it. “Where do you prefer to sit, Mr. Saunders, at the desk or on the couch?” Kael had no intention of either getting comfortable or staying long. Not bothering to reply, he sat in the armchair in front of the desk, waiting for the woman to sit across from him. She had short brown hair threaded with gray and cut into a bob. “I’m Dr. Claire Reynolds. Feel free to call me Claire. Isn’t it beautiful outside today? I love the last week of August. The weather is just right.” Though Kael did not respond, she continued as if he had. “I was warned that you were very hostile when you were told you would not receive another assignment until you’d had a psychiatric evaluation.” She waited for him to reply, and in the face of his continued silence, she went on. “Is it the process itself that concerns you, or do you have anger problems in general?” Already sitting rigidly upright, Kael sat up straighter still, squared his feet on the rug, and clenched his fists tighter. The woman worked for the Secret Intelligence Service as he did, and while he had been told she knew what he did for them in his capacity as a field operative, any specifics must be kept strictly confidential. “I can see you’re not comfortable with the situation, Mr. Saunders. May I call you Kael?” “No.” The woman smiled broadly. “Finally, an answer. Would you like to do a few breathing exercises with me before we begin, to help calm you?” “No.” Kael found his gaze drawn to the doctor’s face. Did she have a slight mustache, or was it a shadow? He focused his twenty-twenty vision on her upper lip. It was a mustache! “Mr. Saunders, if you don’t begin to cooperate with me, I guarantee you Mr. Conran will not authorize you to work until I give him the go-ahead, so if you enjoy your work, it’s in your best interests to start answering my questions. Do you enjoy your work?” “Yes.” “Good.” She rubbed her hands together as if she thought they were getting somewhere. “Tell me about yourself.” What the hell was that supposed to mean. “That’s too broad a question for me.” “Yes, I heard you were detail oriented and lacking in social graces.” “Did you? What else did you hear about me?” Growing slightly more comfortable, he rested his left ankle on his right knee. He was going to control this interview and get it over with as quickly as possible. “Let’s start with your childhood.” Kael expected her to open a file, but she sat back, threading her fingers together and resting her hands on her rounded stomach. “You went to Dale Street Primary School in Liverpool. When you were five years old, your teacher, Mrs. Lamb, described you thus: ‘Kael is a handsome boy, very tall and physically strong for his age. He excels at all his lessons and in sports. He is particularly good with language and uses a vocabulary far beyond his years.’” Dr. Reynolds raised one eyebrow. “Which is not on display today.” “Very amusing,” Kael said, his face blank. He didn’t intend to give this woman a thing. Dr. Reynolds continued, “Mrs. Lamb also said, ‘Kael functions at an intellectual level far superior to his peers; however, he does not play well with others.’” Does not play well with others. That statement had plagued his school years, showing up on every school report. It got to the point where he hated reading it. “I see you’re clenching your fists again, Mr. Saunders. What exactly did I say that caused a stress reaction?” She’s good, Kael realized, gaining a little respect for the woman. Body language was not lost on her, and under other circumstances Kael controlled his to the point where he gave nothing away. Today he was too angry to care. She waited, and when it was clear he was not going to answer, she went on. “Your school reports continued along the same vein, including when you won a scholarship to College Grange Independent School, a very prestigious private boarding school. You continued to excel in sports, particularly rugby, and indeed at academics. Isn’t that where you met Stephen Conran?” “Yes,” he said. Dr. Reynolds nodded. “Were you and he friends?” A spontaneous chuckle broke Kael’s dour demeanor. “No. He was a little snot. He said mean things about my mum one day, so I caught him on his own in the showers and I him beat him up. He was older than me, but I was bigger than him.” After he said it, his smile lingered. The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Has that history ever made it difficult to work together?” “Not for me. It may have for Conran, though he’s never mentioned it. We’ve found a—” he paused, looking for the right words, “—common ground, I suppose. He likes me now…a lot.” “Really? Do you socialize?” “He always invites me to his New Year’s party, and I sometimes go, but aside from that, no.” Looking across the room at another piece of fine art, a bronze of a naked man that stood on the windowsill, he visualized Conran the last time the man had been in Kael’s dungeon, crawling across the floor to kiss his feet. Meeting the doctor’s gaze, he said, “He likes to be flogged and humiliated, so I do that for him, and now he loves me.” “Does he?” The woman was obviously surprised, though she gave away very little. Kael was also an excellent reader of body language, a skill he had learned during his training. Prior to that, his ability to understand people was zero. The slight widening of Dr. Reynolds’s eyes was enough information for him. Perhaps it was unfair to have revealed that particular tidbit about Conran, but the fucker had it coming for subjecting him to this. “Yes. Wasn’t that in my file that you appear to have memorized?” “It was not. Would you like some water or tea perhaps?” She sat up straight, looking at him. “Water,” Kael said. From a small refrigerator underneath a polished mahogany wall table, Dr. Reynolds took two bottles of water and handed one to Kael. “Thank you.” He drained the bottle in one long swallow and then placed it on the desk. “So I gather from your reaction to Mr. Conran’s criticizing your mother when you were boys, that you were protective of her. What’s your relationship like now?” Thinking about his mum always brought a smile to his face. “I’ve got the best mum in the world.” “Do you love her?” She raised her eyebrows again, waiting expectantly. “Yes, I love her. Lots and lots like Jelly Tots.” He laughed. “Zoe and Amelia said that to me. ‘We love you, Uncle Kael, lots and lots like Jelly Tots.’ They’re my friend’s little daughters.” “That’s adorable. Both that they love you and that they expressed it so openly.” When Dr. Reynolds smiled, her face softened, showing a warmth that was not at first detectable. “Tell me about your mother—Sharon, isn’t it?” Without pause Kael said, “I’d kill anyone who tried to harm my mum. When most people say they’d kill someone, they don’t actually mean it. I do. Conran got off very lightly. He should be grateful.” Dr. Reynolds pursed her lips as she spoke, which showed off her mustache to still greater advantage. “And your father?” Placing both feet squarely on the floor, Kael sat upright again, his hands balling into fists. “Are you deliberately trying to be a f*****g b***h?” His voice filled the room. Most people cowered when Kael raised his voice, but not this woman. “There’s no need to shout, Mr. Saunders. I merely asked about your father, whose identity you recently found out. Mr. Arkadiy Romodanovsky, whom the newspapers claim is the future president of the Russian Federation.” “If you already know everything about me, and you plainly do, why am I here?” “For a psychiatric evaluation. By talking to you and observing your responses, I can give MI6 my opinion of your mental health.” Kael held her gaze for a long moment before saying, “There’s nothing wrong with my f*****g mental health. Or my physical health, for that matter. I’m perfect.” “I see you have a great deal of hostility toward your father,” the woman continued in a very calm tone, which irritated Kael still further. Rising, he began to pace back and forth in front of the desk. From the way Dr. Reynolds drew herself deeper into her armchair, he had finally made her nervous, which gave him a twinge of satisfaction. “That man is not my father. He doesn’t even deserve the title of sperm donor. He is a serial r****t who r***d my mother when she was eighteen years old, working at a hotel in Liverpool as a chambermaid. I don’t want to see that man again until he’s in his coffin, and the only reason I’ll go to his funeral is to make sure he’s dead!” “Thank you for sharing those details, Mr. Saunders. We’ll leave that subject alone for now,” the doctor said, her voice so calm after his outburst that Kael felt the urge to laugh. Stopping, he looked at her. The abrupt change in the direction of the conversation was an attempt on her part to calm him down, and he didn’t object. He hated even thinking about Romodanovsky and had not allowed the man any space in his head since he had found out that the Russian politician was his biological father. He sat down again. “Is there anything you don’t know about me?” Leaning forward, elbows on the desk, she said, “Yes, Mr. Saunders, there is. You’re right in saying I know a great deal about your life. Everyone who joins SIS gives up their privacy to the organization, while often, depending on their job, living a secretive life. I know a lot of facts about you. What I don’t know is your motivation for the things you do.” “That makes two of us,” he said simply. “I’m a mystery to myself, but much less so after I met that Russian fucker. I got my worst traits from him, straight through the genes.” Pursing her lips again, which was clearly a mannerism when she was thinking, Dr. Reynolds nodded. “Your job obliges you to be both secretive and untruthful at times, but I don’t think that’s who you are as a man. Here in my office, everything you say is utterly confidential. I need you to know that. I am as bound by the Official Secrets Act as you are. So I’m asking you to be honest with me and hold nothing back. I will never ask you about your assignments, but everything else…” She paused before saying, “It’s part of my job to ask about your life, and let me assure you, what goes into my report to Mr. Conran and the Chief is my opinion of your mental health. I do not give them details about your daily life or any private thoughts you may share with me. For instance, I would not write down that you have a mutually gratifying relationship with Mr. Conran.”