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To start with, it was exciting. Thrust into a world of money and glamour, he had her privately educated in languages, accents and how to speak properly. She was taught everything there was to know about computers. She learnt combat (both armed and unarmed), acting and sex. He made her into the perfect spy. She could play any number of roles and gain anyone’s trust. She was given a target, she studied them and planned her best route in to their world. She became exactly what she thought they needed, then she took exactly what she wanted. What Lorenzo wanted.
She imported huge quantities of drugs over many years for him, she was confident and dazzling through airport security and a master of different passports and identities. She did exactly as he asked of her and she was hugely successful. She was never suspected. She was his most valuable acquisition.
“Do you fuck him?” I asked.
“Yes,” she responded. “I always have. I do anything he asks. It is less so now. I’m less of a novelty fourteen years later, he has other girlfriends. But he isn’t the kind of man you mess with. I’ve never said no to anything he has requested of me. I’ve been on your police laptop Jen, I know how much you know about Daniel. Trust me, you don’t know the half of it. Daniel is a hugely dangerous man. I’ve seen him kill in cold blood. He made me watch him shoot two guys in the head and clean up afterwards. I’ll never forget the shards of skull and pieces of brain and how they felt in my hands. And the blood. There was so much blood. I was fourteen years old. He has never let me forget the power that he has over me. Over everyone.”
“You tipped him off about the raid the first time we had sex? You read my text?” I asked.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Your trips abroad for IT work? That was all just for the drugs?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Amsterdam?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She looked down at the pattern on her kimono and picked at the frayed edges of the waist tie. She looked like a broken little girl, every inch the vulnerable 13 year old foster home kid. But how did I know what she was telling me was the truth? She’s a gifted actress. She made herself into exactly what she thought I would like. And I did. I fell for it. Fell for her. Hook, line and sinker. But I fell for a mirage. There was nothing real there.
“I can’t call you Sarah,” I said. “It doesn’t suit you. You know I can’t see you anymore. That this is the last time we will see one another. I can’t protect you either you know? I won’t tell what I know but I will not lie or cover things up. You are a serious criminal Lyra. The drugs you bring in fund organised crime, not just in this city but throughout the midlands. I’m a police officer. Jesus. What a fucking mess. What have you done to me?”
I cried, my head in my hands, I knew I had to walk away from her. She had betrayed me beyond any other kind of betrayal.
Then her hand sat lightly on my left thigh and my body leapt with anticipation. She got on her knees on the floor in front of me and used her hand to raise my chin. I looked into her pained eyes, her tears a reflection of my own as she looked up at me. She raised her face to mine and she kissed me with the heat of the sun itself tearing through my lips, through every fibre of my body. And suddenly we were kissing, her kimono open, her naked breasts full and enticing underneath. My clothes being pulled from me, my body speaking what my mind could not. She was on top of me, her scent overpowering, my defences weak. I was still crying as I orgasmed and she kissed me more and lay on top of me. And she cried too.
“It’s ok. I’ve got you,” she whispered into my ear.
But it wasn’t ok. It wasn’t ok at all. It was so all so far from OK and I wasn’t sure anything would be ok again.
9
I went home and cried more. I felt devastated and utterly betrayed. Everything I thought was real was just a lie. Luckily Simon was at work so I spent the day wallowing in despair. I thought about the time I had spent with her. Lyra. Sarah. I couldn’t call her Sarah. It didn’t suit her. Someone like her wasn’t called Sarah. I thought about Amsterdam and how perfect it was. Hand in hand with her by the canal. Hip to hip with her in the hotel bed. Then I thought about the repercussions if anyone found out about us. There was a police investigation into her. Surely it would only be a matter of time. I remembered our Amsterdam flights. She insisted I fly out the day after her and I flew home on a separate flight. I ran a search on the phone number I knew as hers and it came back to an unregistered pay as you go. Maybe on some level she had tried to protect me throughout. I wanted to believe that was true. I wanted to believe the best of her.
I checked the progress of the investigation into her on my police laptop. The CCTV from her apartment block had been damaged so we were unable get any history on visitors to her apartment. Lyra was 4 steps ahead of the police investigation.
I thought about all the times I had left my police laptop in my bag in her apartment unattended while I slept deeply post orgasm or while I was in the shower. My work phone too. Easily hacked by someone of her intellect and training. It is no wonder Operation Phoenix was so far behind on Lorenzo. I’d spent time searching for a mole within our team and it was me all along.
Sleeping with the enemy.
Sheer stupidity and lust had made me careless with vital police information on a live operation. If anyone found out I would lose my job immediately and possibly get a prison sentence too. Everything about the life I knew and the job that was so important to me, to my identity, was in jeopardy.
I picked up my phone to a lengthy text from Lyra. Apologies, endless apologies. Assuring me it was different with me. That she wasn’t acting. That I wasn’t just a target for her to seduce and destroy. Assuring me she would always protect me.
I didn’t reply.
I couldn’t. I couldn’t reopen Pandora’s box. I tried to stuff everything back in and close the lid but it was too late. Far too late. That’s the thing about Pandora’s box, once you open it, there is no going back.
I went into work the following day, desperate to see for myself what was going on in the investigation. I felt like a criminal myself. In so many ways I was one. But again, my years of exemplary service protected me. Nobody would ever suspect me.
People were pleased to see me back and I grabbed a strong coffee and made my way into the morning briefing. Amongst other things it was announced that a surveillance team was to be put on Sarah Jones in order to find where she was storing the drugs and hopefully witness transfer to Lorenzo or his crew.
I knew it was madness but I sat at my desk and composed a text.
Text to Lyra: “Surveillance team being put on you. They will start tomorrow morning at 8am.”
Send.
I had sent it. I had become complicit. Trying to protect the scared little girl I saw inside her. The little girl who had been raped and controlled by a much older man. The troubled teenager who had to clean blood and brains from the floor. Lyra hadn’t chosen her path in life. He had chosen for her. He had created the monster she had become.
