No Direction Home (10 page)

Vinter stared at her, suddenly tense: Adebayo had an eidetic memory, which was why she was so effective at data analysis. ‘In what way?'

‘The record we've got here, on board, says you're not married. Adebayo says that the file back on Earth mentioned a wife and daughter. Angela, or Anji, and Emma.'

Jesus Christ…
Vinter stared at her disbelievingly, as if he had misheard her somehow, even though he knew damn well he had not…
Jesus fucking Christ.

Married? What the hell? Anji… she was his wife? And Emma – his daughter?

But there was nothing there for either of them, the names still meant nothing to him, not in terms of any real memories…

Married – and he couldn't even remember his wife and daughter? Or even his wedding day?

Sondgren's voice seemed to come from a huge distance. ‘So, to put it simply, which one is the
real
Vinter? You, or the one in the file back on Earth?'

She leaned forward in her chair, her eyes boring into his. ‘Who
are
you?'

Vinter stared almost disbelievingly at the comp screen, wondering how the details of his life could be condensed down to just a few pages of text. It was all there – his years at Edinburgh University, the five year relationship with Naomi, being head hunted by UNSEC on his graduation following the informal vetting and evaluation procedure that he hadn't even realised had been happening at the time, the end of the relationship (Naomi meeting someone else and dumping him without ceremony) and the note that he had never been in a serious relationship since (flagged up as a potential weakness), then working in London and New York before being transferred to Canberra and UNSEC HQ. A whole page of text and images devoted to Livvy – dark hair, laughing eyes and a wicked sense of humour who felt the same way as he did about the relationship – no strings, no commitments, let's just have fun, OK? They had split up perfectly amicably a couple of years before he was selected for
Terra Nova
and, if truth be told, that had turned out to be the best thing in the end, because he would have had to leave her behind anyway.

The memories came flooding back…
Livvy smiling up at him from the pillow, her hair tousled from their love-making, or straddling him as she rode him, his hands caressing her breasts… Splashing water at him in the sea, then running away through the shallows, laughing delightedly… Scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef… The first meeting at the dinner party when they were the only two unattached guests and the hostess had decided to pair them off…

‘There you are, Livvy! What time do you call this?' The broad smile on the hostess' face robbed the words of any offence; the two women exchanged air kisses, evidently old acquaintances.

‘Well, one has to arrive fashionably late, doesn't one?' the woman called Livvy chuckled.

‘Indeed, darling, one does.' Both women were using exaggeratedly upper-class British accents. ‘Do let me introduce you to your
beau
for the night.' She turned towards Vinter, holding out a hand in a kind of beckoning gesture. ‘Livvy, this is Chris Vinter – sorry, I should say
Inspector
Christopher Vinter, shouldn't I, Inspector?'

‘No, Chris is fine.'

‘Chris, this is Olivia – aka Livvy – Mottram.'

‘Delighted to meet you, Livvy.'

‘The pleasure's mutual, Chris.' She had dropped her cut-glass accent for her native Australian; it was still refined, well-educated, however.

The hostess muttered something about checking on the
hors d'oeuvres
and disappeared in the general direction of the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

‘I think we've rather been shoe-horned together,' Livvy said apologetically. ‘Apparently we're the only unattached pair here – Rhona is playing Cupid, I fear.'

Vinter gave her an appraising glance. ‘I'm not complaining.' She was tall, slim, brown-eyed with dark hair cut fashionably short, wearing an old style cocktail dress with a neckline that plunged between her breasts, almost to her waist, and which was slit up the side of the thigh to reveal a long, tanned leg. Her voice was a husky contralto and she was, to put it bluntly, sexy as hell.

‘If that is a compliment, then thank you.' She smiled impishly at him. ‘And, actually, neither am I. So… are you going to get me a drink?'

‘Coming right up.'

During the course of the dinner, she found out that he had only recently arrived in Canberra after being transferred from New York – ‘Yes, Rhona said you'd been promoted here, but I'm afraid I assumed you were American.'

‘No, I'm a Brit, for my sins.'

‘I'll forgive you – just don't ever mention the Ashes, or any cricket, for that matter.'

‘Fair enough. Silly game, anyway.'

She worked for UNHQ in Canberra in the Diplomatic Service, lived alone, enjoyed swimming, surfing and vids, worked out three times a week in the gym and had always wanted to visit London. What did he think of Australia?

‘I've only been here a month or so.'

‘You must let me show you around – not just Canberra, but the whole country. Ever been scuba diving?'

‘Once – a while ago. A week in Florida.'

‘Excellent! A friend of mine owns a beach villa in Queensland, just north of Cairns. Fancy scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef? I'll take you up there, if you like.'

‘I'd love to.'

By now, they were in the electric driverless taxicab, on the way to her apartment; he had insisted on seeing her home – or had it pretty much been taken for granted that he would? It didn't really seem to matter now.

‘Excellent,' she said – he'd already discovered that it was one of her favourite words.

The taxi pulled up outside a tall apartment block; she looked across at him and said calmly, ‘You
are
coming up with me, aren't you?'

‘I was hoping to, yes.'

‘I'm glad about that.'

Once they were in her apartment, she simply unfastened the dress at her neck and let it fall to the floor; underneath, all she wore was a tiny black G-string. ‘Like me?' she asked, pirouetting slowly around.

‘You could say that, yes.'
Understatement of the year – she looked sensational…

‘Well, I did say I'd show you around, didn't I? The first place I want to show you is my bedroom – and my king size bed.'

‘Sounds good to me.'

‘That's what I was hoping you'd say.' She smiled slowly, seductively. ‘So follow me, big boy.'

That had been the beginning of one of the nights of his life. Perhaps half an hour later, they had pounded their way to shattering climaxes, only seconds apart, her legs coiled tightly around him, digging her nails into his shoulders as her body arched convulsively under his… And then again, Livvy straddling him, her head thrown back in orgasm as he thrust up into her, frantically… The following morning, taking her from behind, her fingers like claws as they clutched the pillow, her body slamming back against his. ‘Yes, Chris… Oh yes, yes… harder…
Harder!
' And the rest… the feel of her hands caressing him, exciting him, the soft pressure of her lips around his cock, the low moans of pleasure and gasps of encouragement once he was inside her…

She'd been
incredible
…

And then, maybe a fortnight later…

‘Chris?'

‘Umm?'

‘Can I ask you something?'

‘After what we've just been doing, you can ask me pretty much anything you like.'

‘Was it
that
good?' A husky, sexy chuckle.

‘Definitely that good, yes.'

‘Glad to hear it.' She was lying next to him, the whole length of her naked body pressed against his, her head resting on his chest as his arm gently stroked her shoulder. Now, she moved her upper body over on top of his, so that she could look into his face. ‘Have you ever been really serious about anyone? I know it's none of my business, of course – but I'm interested in how someone as… well… as good at fucking as you are is still unattached.'

He smiled at her intentional coarseness; she liked to do that, to use earthy comments as if to counterpoint her privileged upbringing. She might be Australian, but she'd also been to Roedean and a Swiss finishing school (where, according to her, she had lost her virginity to a ski instructor, having decided that this should be part of her education as well). ‘Well… there
was
someone, back at Uni, I suppose. Girl called Naomi – I thought it was the real thing, but then she ran off with someone she'd been screwing behind my back for six months. Along with several others, as I found out later on.'

‘I see… So she put you off women, did she?'

‘Well, not
women
, no, as you can probably tell… Just put me off getting involved, I suppose.'

‘In case it happened again?'

‘What, getting hurt? Pretty much, yes.'

She nodded. ‘That's OK – it's not a problem for me. My own story is pretty much the same – some guy called Jason, rich and good looking. Only he wanted a little wife at home and I wanted a career, so it all went pear-shaped and more than a little bit nasty as well. I've never trusted anyone called Jason since and if he owns a Ferrari, forget it… Well, no, I take that back about the Ferrari, thinking about it.'

‘But not the Jason bit?'

‘Never.'

‘Just as well my parents changed their mind about calling me Jason then, wasn't it?'

She stared suspiciously at him. ‘You know, I never know when you're joking, you're so deadpan at times.'

‘Just joking – I'd never have forgiven them if they'd even been thinking about it.'

She chuckled again, then moved up the bed so that she could kiss him, her lips soft and willing against his. ‘The reason I'm asking is because I'd like to get…
us
… sorted out.'

‘Us?'

‘You and me, dummy… Where do you want this relationship to go? We're two weeks down the line, we're pretty good in bed together…'

‘It sounds as if there's a “but” in there somewhere.'

‘You leave my butt out of this – well, for the moment, anyway… No, seriously, I'd just like to get a few ground rules laid down, because I don't want either of us to be hoping for something that isn't going to happen, OK?'

‘OK. What ground rules?'

She seemed to hesitate, but Vinter was pretty certain she knew exactly what she was going to say next. ‘I don't want a heavy involvement. What I'd like is regular sex with you, the same as so far, but with no strings or commitments, just sex that is fun for both of us. I don't want – or expect – anything else. Now… are you OK with that?'

‘I'm up for that, yes. What red-blooded straight male wouldn't be?'

‘That's what I was hoping you'd say.' She reached down for his penis and began stroking it gently, smiling as it began to respond. ‘So, if we're talking about
regular
sex, it's been almost an hour since the last time…'

Her mouth pressed down hard on his and she brought up her knees so that she was kneeling astride him. He grinned and reached up to caress her breasts, feeling her nipples harden.

‘Actually,' he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, ‘have you ever thought about
irregular
sex?'

‘As in
kinky
?' she asked eagerly. ‘Oh, yes… Definitely. How
irregular
do you want to be?'

‘How does utterly perverted grab you?'

‘Sounds like fighting talk… All right,' she said softly, then chuckled. ‘Show me what you can do, big boy.'

‘Umm, OK… You wouldn't happen to have any handcuffs around, would you?'

‘Funny you should say that… Try the bedside table, top drawer.'

Altogether, the relationship lasted almost eight years, until Livvy was promoted to a post in UN New York; there had been an idyllic fortnight scuba diving on the Great Barrier Reef followed by an epic final night together in Livvy's wide bed, where they had seemed determined to repeat every experience they had shared during their time together, then she had boarded the orbital jetliner to New York and that had been the last he saw of her. There had been vidcalls and mails, often pornographic in content, but they had gradually tailed off, as both had expected; he had not heard from her for over a year before
Terra Nova
had left Earth. It had been one of the reasons he had been chosen for the project – there were no ties or commitments on his part to complicate the issue.

Or regrets…

*****

But now, thinking about it, wasn't it all just a little too nice and convenient?
A relationship with no strings, ending amicably and with enough time passing for it to be no more than a pleasant memory, one that would only occasionally impinge on his thoughts? How much could he actually remember of her, bearing in mind that they had been together for eight years?

Not very much,
he realised slowly. She had promised to show him around Australia, but he could only remember vacations with her in Queensland and a long weekend in Sydney. How many times had they been to Queensland? Damned if he could remember – more than once, but how many more? OK, so they'd had sex an awful lot – but where? There seemed to be very little context there – for example, that threesome they'd tried had been on holiday in Cairns–

Hold on a minute – a threesome? Really? Are you sure about that?

OK… They'd been in Cairns
– in a hotel? Beach apartment?
– and the other girl had been a petite redhead, but what had her name been? And how had they actually met her and persuaded her to take part? On the beach, perhaps – but had she been alone?

He couldn't damn well remember –
his recollections only started in the bedroom, with Livvy and the girl taking off each other's bikinis while he watched on the bed. A girl they had apparently only just met, but who had just happened to be bisexual and remarkably eager to take part in a three in a bed session with a pair of strangers…
More like a porn vid than anything that would happen in real life, come to think about it… I mean, how likely was that, in all honesty? And, given that it was the kind of event that doesn't exactly happen that often, why can't I remember more about it?

And what about the other memories?

Reluctantly, he had to admit that the same thing applied, at least for a large proportion of them. There seemed to be a lot of amazing sex, with Livvy in the role of an uninhibited sexual partner, game for anything, sometimes submissive, sometimes an out and out dominatrix, but who was always satisfied by her constantly enthusiastic lover – himself.
Always…
Now that he thought about it,
really
thought about it, he couldn't recall a single time when sex hadn't worked for them. Not once. And was that the intention? Provide powerfully erotic memories for him to savour – the kind that he would never even think about questioning, or even want to, simply because they were so pleasurable – and ego-boosting? They
seemed
real – he could even recall the tactile sensations, especially when Livvy performed
fellatio
– but how could he know for certain?