Move to Strike by Sydney Bauer Page A

surroundings, and offered her husband a grateful and passionate kiss.’
    â€˜She liked the alternative?’ asked Sara.
    â€˜God, no,’ said de Castro. ‘Jeffrey told me she hated it. It was not what she had asked for, but she knew better than to let loose in front of an audience. And so she waited – an entire six months – before she returned the favour by giving him a two-foot weapon powerful enough to kill a Goddamned rhinoceros.
    â€˜She presented it to him while he was at dinner with the family. Determined to show the kids what an unsatisfactory partner their father had turned out to be.’
    â€˜Her apparent point being . . . ?’ asked a still disbelieving David.
    â€˜That Jeffrey had failed her,’ said de Castro. ‘She served dinner and gave him the gun and then turned to him to say something along the lines of: “Next time I ask for an alligator skin purse, you can go and shoot the fucker yourself”.’
    â€˜Oh, come on,’ said David. ‘You don’t expect us to believe . . .’
    â€˜. . . and she said this while pointing the rifle directly at her thirteen-year-old son’s forehead.’
    David was floored. He simply did not know what to say.
    â€˜Katherine,’ said Sara then. ‘How do you know this? I mean, maybe Doctor Logan was . . .’
    â€˜Because I saw the whole thing on video,’ interrupted de Castro. ‘Jeffrey had taken to recording her, you see – for evidence in the divorce proceedings, so that he might win custody after all.’
    David sat there, still in shock, the icy chill in his spine now spreading upwards towards his chest. He could not believe what she was saying. This was just not the Stephanie he knew.
    â€˜Do you have a copy of this video?’ he asked.
    â€˜No, but Jeffrey has one – locked away somewhere safe.’
    â€˜And are there other videos – other pieces of similar evidence which show Stephanie to be the woman her husband described?’
    â€˜I think so,’ she offered. ‘Although I am not sure what form they take. I know that Jeffrey only just started collecting such evidence. I know he only asked for the divorce a little less than a week ago.’
    â€˜Then why the hell didn’t he give this tape to the police?’ asked David. ‘Why is he playing martyr when he could present such evidence and show his son killed out of desperation?’
    â€˜I suppose he was thinking on his feet,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps he sensed J.T. could not weather the storm of a public arrest. Perhaps he believed his “accident” theory might be enough to protect his two children from the media circus the truth would inevitably create. Jeffrey may be ambitious, he may have worked damned hard to get where he is, but there is no way he would manipulate his son’s act of vengeance to score a few extra ratings points.’
    â€˜So that video you speak of isn’t being held for some big exclusive exposé on national TV.’ David was thinking ahead, his mind jumping to and from every scenario he could think of to explain what Katherine de Castro was describing.
    â€˜Absolutely not – in fact, if Jeffrey has his way, it will never see the light of day.’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Katherine. I am still finding it hard to believe that . . .’
    â€˜That what?’ interrupted an obviously frustrated de Castro. ‘That the recording exists or that Jeffrey has no plans for using it?’
    David realised he was stuck – for if he did not believe in one he could not argue against the other.
    â€˜Both,’ he said at last.
    â€˜Then perhaps you will just have to see it for yourself.’

14
    Las Vegas, Nevada
    D eirdre McCall lengthened her torso, lowered her arms and turned her feet out as she stopped to survey the wide-eyed students before her. She was tired, stiff, her neck protesting at