Chain Reaction. Don Pendleton

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       CHAPTER TEN

      As they settled in their seats for the flight to Hong Kong, Mitchell leaned over and said, “I still don’t have the lowdown on Delawar”

      “First time we met she tried to kill me. I screwed up a big deal for Hegre and grazed her arm with a bullet. From what I’ve learned she doesn’t let it go when she’s been bested.”

      “You must have gotten to her, Cooper.”

      “What can I say. And all I know is her name...”

      * * *

      WHEN LISE WAS fourteen years old, she came home from school and found her mother dead in the bathtub. The cold water was tinged pink from the blood that had streamed from her slashed wrists. It was later confirmed that Rose Delaware had also swallowed every pill in the house. It was a final act of desperation, brought on by the severe depression she suffered from. She had struggled with her condition for a number of years, fighting a slow, losing battle. Rose’s ongoing condition had only been relieved by the presence of her daughter, and she fought against it every day. She kept her apartment clean and provided a loving environment for her daughter, Lise.

      Things she kept from her daughter only came to light after her death. The thing that pushed her over the edge was the final chapter in the long-running battle with her husband. He had wanted a divorce. Rose had denied him that, but he continued to fight her and had finally gotten what he wanted by citing her unreasonable attitude and deliberate obstruction when he told her he wanted to remarry. It had cost him a lot of money, but he was wealthy and the financial cost meant nothing to him. The divorce papers were found on the bathroom floor where Rose had dropped them.

      The trauma of finding her dead mother affected Lise badly. She fell into an almost vegetative state and had to be hospitalized. She was given the best care available, a private room and around-the-clock care. Her father chose not to visit her. They had never been close. Work had always been his top priority. It took nearly six months before she began to come out of her shell and respond to attention.

      Three weeks later a man came to the hospital. She vaguely recalled his face. He had visited her mother some years back. Lise remembered how he had been with her mother. He had offered to help, but for some reason her mother had turned him away. She couldn’t understand why. Her mother refused to talk about it. Now on the day he visited her, she sat and stared at him, still cloaked in despair at the loss of her mother. When he came back days later, he brought a woman with him. They spoke with the people in charge and later that same day she was removed from the hospital. There was a large car outside and Lise was placed inside, with the man on one side and the woman the other. They drove for what seemed a long time.

      Lise watched through the car window until fatigue took over and she slept.

      When she awakened, she was dressed in warm pajamas and tucked in a soft bed.

      In the days and weeks that followed, Lise came to know the woman, who was with her most of the days. She brought new clothes. And food. The room she was in was large and bright, filled with good things. The woman—she found out her name was Claire—looked after her. Lise was taken from the room, down the wide staircase and through a door that led outside into a wide, attractive garden.

      The house was where Lise would spend the next few years. In comfort and surrounded by people who cared for her and ensured she lacked for nothing. Not once did she inquire about her father. He was responsible for her mother’s death. He was dead to her.

      The house and grounds were spacious. There was a swimming pool and a wide patio. Claire and Lise spent many hours in the warm sunshine. There were a number of staff in the house who fetched and carried, doing anything Claire requested. Lise did not see the man for a few weeks. When she finally asked where he was, Claire simply told her he was away on business, but he would come to see her when he came back. Claire was her constant companion, and through her kindness and patience Lise was gradually drawn out of her solitary mood. Sometimes at night she would lie in her bed and think about her mother, trying to bring back the good times. Then her mother had been strong and beautiful. But the dark memories kept overshadowing the good times. Lise would lie and stare into the shadows, brooding. Thinking about the bad times, struggling to banish them. Gradually the memories faded, but never completely. They always hugged the deep corners of her mind. Lise learned to keep them buried because she didn’t want to disappoint Claire, who devoted her time and patience to the girl.

      When the man came back to the house, Lise learned his name was Julius Hegre. He spoke to her gently. Explained to her that her mother had been his sister, and he wanted to take care of Lise now.

      When Lise asked why her mother had refused his help, he told her she had not approved of his business.

      Hegre had smiled his distant smile and told her when she was older he would explain.

      The explanation did not come for eight years.

      Lise was twenty-two years old when he had explained the mystery behind his business affairs. Watching her face as she absorbed his words, Hegre saw not shock, but a spark of interest that only grew as he revealed his true occupation.

      She began, from that day, to immerse herself in his business, always asking questions, wanting to know everything he could tell her. There was a confident spirit emerging and the revelation that his business was nowhere near lawful only intrigued her more. She was like a young child again, full of curiosity, eager to run before she could walk. Hegre could never tire at the bombardment as she badgered him with more and more questions.

      Lise threw herself into the physical interests her lifestyle allowed her to pursue: horseback riding, swimming, a growing interest in shooting—using every kind of firearm she could get her hands on. She excelled at martial arts—her instructors were always having to rein her in as she pushed herself harder. She revealed a ruthless streak, and many of Hegre’s hardened crew found themselves challenged when faced with her in the dojo. She was as hard on herself as she was any opponent.

      Her companion had left by this time. There was nothing more she could do for the young woman who faced life with a confidence bordering on arrogance. The child had long since disappeared, and the full-grown woman had become a stranger to her tutor.

      Lise’s change revealed itself in a traumatic event that occurred one day when she returned from riding across the wide estate. She left her horse at the stable, then made her way through the stand of trees to the house. She entered through the kitchen, riding boots clicking on the tiled floor. From the kitchen she made her way down the wide hall, wondering why the house was so unusually quiet.

      No one was about, which she found strange. There should have been at least a couple of Hegre’s bodyguards in sight.

      Lise sensed something wrong.

      As she passed Julius Hegre’s study, she heard voices. One belonged to Hegre. The other she didn’t recognize.

      She neared the closed doors and heard the unknown voice suddenly rise.

      She hesitated for no longer than a couple of seconds before instinct took over. The situation was not right. She knew that for a fact, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. All she sensed was Julius being in danger, and she had to do something about it.

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