Life was about becoming a new person, learning from experience, and adapting to new circumstances.
Not stagnating in the past, or getting hung up about a name, or a particular look, or a place.
Adapt. Evolve. Or die.
Emerging into the sunshine outside the airport, he looked for the new tramline that the onboard flight magazine had advertised as being the most relaxing way to travel into the city. He'd read the article, and been sold, and was keen to try it out for himself.
The alternatives of being cooped up in a small cab, or stuck on a public bus in traffic for an hour had not sounded nearly so attractive. Definitely for him the simplicity of 'gliding through the historic streets of the New Town, along transport routes dedicated to those who were connoisseurs of smart travel.'
As long as he kept his hat on, and avoided looking directly at the CCTV cameras, he'd also be able to relax and get a view of the city.
It had been a long day so far, he was mentally tired and he was in no mood to rent a car yet and drive it on the wrong side of the road.
Britain was a stupid country. Why it continued to allows its citizens to drive on the left, he couldn't understand.
Before he took the wheel and succumbed to the madness, he wanted to allow himself to acclimatise for a few days. The last thing he needed to do was to rush into driving a rental car, and have an accident with someone else, leading to a massive amount of paperwork.
The last time it had happened, -which was in fact during the last time he had visited the UK, he had driven into an oncoming car whilst turning left and momentarily driving back onto the right-hand side of the road.
He'd hit a young woman's pride and joy.
She'd wanted his details, everything she needed to know about him, so she could report him to the insurance company.
He'd been reluctant.
She got angry and threatened to call the police.
He offered to pay cash.
She suspected something strange was going on. "... Otherwise why would you just offer me five thousand pounds out of the blue to shut up and drive off?"
She got more nervous and upset.
Copernicus had quickly searched the area for CCTV and found none. They were in a remote area. No one else was around.
Copernicus tried one last time to reason with the woman. He'd upped the offer.
"Seven thousand pounds, in cash, is a lot of money. Fix the car and go on holiday with the rest of the money."
"Cash in hand, now?"
"In your hand, or wherever else you want it?" Copernicus was a little confused by her quaint use of English.
"Why would you be carrying around seven thousand pounds in cash? That's not normal."
She pulled out her phone to call the police.
Copernicus shot her.
Putting on gloves, he bundled her into the boot of her car, pushed it off the road into a side ditch, and set fire to it with petrol he siphoned from its tank.
Luckily, he'd already fulfilled his assignment in England and was on the way to Bristol Airport from where he would fly to Bucharest, get a train to Vienna, and then finally disappear off the grid.
By killing the woman, he'd saved himself a ton of unnecessary paperwork and dangerous questions.
The downside was that instead of returning his rental car to the airport, he was forced to abandon it in a car park in the city centre and get a bus the rest of the way. He almost missed his flight.
Such experiences were inconveniences, but highlighted the increased risks that he ran whenever he took on a job in a country where they did things 'differently'... The quaintness and idiosyncrasies of British life were great for tourists, but not for professionals like him.
That said, he did like the tea and scones. And Lemon Sponge Cake. And Cider.
And Yorkshire Puddings.
--------------------
Edinburgh City Centre
Thursday 2.30 p.m.
The tram ride into Edinburgh was pleasant.
He'd sat at the rear of the last cabin, giving him not only a wonderful view of the streets as he swept through them, from the front and to the rear, but also of everyone on the tram who rode with him, as they alighted, or got on.
By the time they arrived in the city centre, he was confident that no one was following him on the tram, or by car in streets behind it.
He walked to the Royal Mile, and checked in to his hotel, a modern hotel newly built to look from the outside as if it were over six hundred years old. Standing and admiring it before he went in, he was impressed.
Whoever had been responsible for it, had done a good job.
Architecture was Copernicus's thing. He liked buildings.
Sometimes, as he whiled away the hours waiting to commit a hit, he'd sketch designs for buildings he'd one day like to build.
If he had not been so good at killing people, he would definitely have been an architect.
Upon entering his room, he activated his electronic sweeper and spent the best part of fifteen minutes establishing that his room was bug free.
Unplugging the telephone from the wall, and making sure that there was no camera on the Smart TV peering into his room, he changed into more comfortable clothes.
His new laptop took only a few minutes to boot up, log onto the Tor network and access the Dark Web.
He was in Scotland. Today he would start looking for DCI Campbell McKenzie.
When he found him, he would trail him, live in his shadows, and wait.
Eventually, Copernicus was sure, Salvador would make his move, and Copernicus would be there to greet him, and kill him.
In the meantime, he would need a lot of help from Colonel Zhirov and his friends in the Russian secret service to help track McKenzie down. Their report yesterday had indicated that McKenzie had gone to ground and was in hiding.
He had obviously been warned by someone, perhaps the UK secret services, that a contract had been put on his head.
It was a setback, nothing else. Colonel Zhirov had full access to the capabilities of the Russian secret services, and Copernicus knew that if they wanted to find McKenzie, they would.
The Colonel had agreed to email him on a daily basis with any information that the secret services may provide.
In the past they had been most helpful, and Copernicus had no reason to believe that this time would be any different.
With any luck, it would only be a matter of days before McKenzie's location may be identified.
They had to work fast, however. The clock was ticking.
Finding McKenzie was one thing. But it was crucial they found him before Salvador did, lest they arrive too late, the job already done, and Salvador vanished.
Copernicus could not afford to fail on this mission.
He had one chance to get his career back on track, and nothing was going to prevent that from happening.
And God protect anybody who tried to get in his way.
Chapter 33
Edinburgh
Thursday 3 p.m.
Alessandra parked her car and walked slowly across to the entrance of her hotel. As she did so, she looked up at Edinburgh Castle, which towered above the Grassmarket, the area where her hotel was.
Most visitors to Edinburgh were familiar with the picture-postcard view of the front of the Castle and Princes Street Gardens, which the tourists visiting the city centre and the shopping district around Princes Street all had.
For Alessandra, this was a chance discovery. The view of the Castle as seen from its rear, sitting directly above cliffs which rose almost vertically out of the ground, was in her opinion far more impressive and imposing.
Staring upwards, she wondered how people could even build it? All those hundreds of years ago, how did they get the stone slabs and bricks up onto the cliffs? How could they build defensive walls on the edges of cliffs that then lasted for hundreds of years, without foundations?
And how many people must have fallen to their deaths du
ring its construction?
How on earth would you even go about starting to build such an amazing building on the edge of such cliffs?
She shook her head and marvelled and then focused her attentions back on the now.
"Hello," the receptionist greeted, as Alessandra presented herself at the desk.
"Hello, my name is Sue Davis. I've booked a room for a week, already paid for..."
The receptionist consulted her terminal, retrieved the booking and returned her attention back to 'Sue' with a super-duper smile.
"Thank you for choosing 'The Georgian' for your stay here with us in Edinburgh, Ms Davis. Your room is 256, one of our Premier Rooms with a view directly onto the Castle. Do you need any help with your luggage?"
"No. Thank you." Alessandra smiled back. "May I request that you put a note on the system for no one to disturb me? I sleep a lot during the day. I won't need my bed to be made or anything."
Once in her room, Alessandra kicked off her shoes, and dived onto the bed.
She was tired out, not only from the drive down, but from the activities of the morning and the evening before.
Gavin had kept her up most of last night.
He was a very, very naughty boy.
Alessandra smiled at the thought.
Her feelings for him were worrying.
She not only enjoyed him, in many ways, but she liked him.
He interested her.
She found herself thinking about him at moments when she really shouldn't be.
On the drive down to Edinburgh she'd had a lot of time to think.
Alessandra did not know how her mission was going to go over the next few days or weeks.
Killing DCI McKenzie was not going to be straightforward, particularly if, as she feared, he was now aware that she was looking for him and had gone to ground. It could get very messy. Or it could turn out to be relatively straightforward after all.
Normally, once it was all done, she should vacate the country immediately. The fact that she was still here, so many weeks after her original assignment, was nuts!
Insanity!
It was completely out of character and broke every rule that Vincenzo had ever taught her.
The longer she stayed, the greater the risk of her being caught. Or worse...
A thought was niggling her at the back of her mind, a worry that was growing and beginning to concern her. Alessandra knew it was a valid thought and must be given further consideration.
Alessandra was a ghost. Admittedly. However, she still had enemies. Over the years she had twice become aware that others were out there looking for her. Finding someone like herself was almost impossible, if she was sensible, and did not make mistakes.
However, in the past few weeks she had just completed two classic assassinations in the same country, both of which had the hallmarks of her expertise stamped all over them.
She could not know for sure, but if one of her enemies was out there, waiting patiently for her to make an appearance, remaining in Scotland could be a mistake.
Engaging in a third mission, another difficult, challenging one, in the same country, in such quick succession, could, just could, be waving a flag in the assassins' underworld that heralded where she was and what she was about to do.
Alessandra was no fool.
She knew the risks.
Finding DCI McKenzie might be the least of her worries.
Avoiding assassination by a rival could be the biggest challenge of all.
On the other hand, it made it all more interesting.
It increased the challenge.
Made it more attractive.
She knew she would have to up her game.
But she would relish it.
What made it even more interesting though, was the realisation during the drive down, that after it was all finished, she wanted to return to spend some more time at the Loch Ness 'Hilton'.
She wanted to see Gavin again. Experience him again. To feel him inside her again.
And she needed time to be alone on the shores of the Loch.
She had questions.
She needed answers.
Which was why she had dug out a new identity, Sue Davis, and decided to christen it now.
She needed to dissociate anything that happened over the coming weeks from Alice Brandon.
Whatever happened, Alice Brandon needed to be free to be able to return to Loch Ness afterwards.
What happened here would be Sue Davis's problem, or Salvador's.
But not Alice's.
--------------------
Edinburgh City Centre
Thursday 4.00 p.m.
Alessandra knew that there were many ways to track a person down, but before deciding which of those methods to use, she first needed to determine if DCI McKenzie did indeed require tracking down.
With time now against her, the direct approach was probably the best.
Using a soft-phone on her laptop, she dialled the number of DCI McKenzie's home. The call would be untraceable, and although it was a VoIP call - an internet based phone call - whoever picked up the phone at the other end would not be able to determine any difference.
She let the phone ring and ring, determined to speak with somebody.
Eventually, a woman picked up.
"Hello, may I speak with DCI McKenzie?" Alessandra asked, deliberately dropping the tone in her voice and making it appear more masculine.
"I'm sorry. You can't. He doesn't live here at the moment."
The directness of the answer caught her off-guard.
"But, do I have the correct address? I do have the correct telephone number, don't I?"
"Yes. But he doesn't live here just now. To whom am I talking?"
"This is Jackie. May I ask who you are?"
"His wife. Why do you need to talk with my husband?"
"It's a personal affair. I need to speak with your husband directly."
There was a tense silence at the other end of the phone.
"An affair? A personal affair? You're having an affair with my husband?" the woman's voice was raised.
"Oh no... sorry. I didn't mean that! I work for a firm of heir hunters. Our job is to find relatives of those who have passed away so that we can help the Executors of Wills or Estates to disburse inheritances correctly. May I check a few things please? Is your husband a Mr Campbell McKenzie? Born in 1978? The 5th June?" Alessandra asked, simply reading his birthday details straight off one of his social media accounts, important information which only took her ten minutes to find.
"Yes. That's him."
Alessandra had expected at least a little rumble of excitement when she had announced she was working for an heir hunter. The natural greed within people would almost automatically cause them to start to seeing dollar signs, then ask questions and open up. His wife was not showing anything of it.
"Am I correct that he doesn't have any brothers or sisters, and no children?"
"Correct again. And yes we don't have any children. And never will. Listen, I appreciate you have a job to do, but I'm not the person to help you. My husband isn't here and ..."
"If I send a letter to this address from my firm, can you please forward it on to him and make sure he gets it okay? It's really important. It's taken me months to get this far in tracking him down, and you're my only hope. I need this job. I really do need to get a letter to him. Just a letter..."
"Send it me, and I'll forward it onto him."
"Thanks Mrs McKenzie. You're a godsend. Thank you! I'll leave you in peace just now, but please expect a brown package from me for him in the next few days. Thank you for all your help! I appreciate it!"
Alessandra hung up.
--------------------
Fiona McKenzie's House.
4.10 p.m.
Fiona McKenzie hung up the phone and stared at the wall in her hallway.
She sat down on the ground and put her head on her knees, breathing deeply, trying to calm down.
There had still not been any direct contact with Campbell. She hadn't spoken to him yet.
Her resolve was getting weaker though. She needed him. She wanted him.
His best friend Brian had stopped by the house a few days ago. He'd told her that Campbell had had to go away on business for a while. Very much against his will.
Something undercover. Secret.
He insisted it had nothing to do with their marital problems, that Fiona had to believe him. Brian was a straightforward man. You could easily tell if he was lying.
"Where is he?"
"I can't tell you. I've been sworn to secrecy."
"What happens if I need to contact him?" Fiona fixed him a hard stare. "What if I urgently need him to sign a letter from our solicitors... our divorce solicitors?"
Brian reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder.
"Fiona, I hope that won't be necessary. Campbell misses you. He's hurting. He's been an idiot, and he knows it. But if you want to write to him, or send him something, send it to my house, and I'll forward it on to him. I'll make sure he gets it as soon as possible."
"Has he called you yet?" Brian asked.
She nodded.
"Did you speak together?"
This time, when she started to cry, Brian immediately knew her answer was no.
"Why not?"
"I just couldn't. Not yet. Anyway..."
She started to cry heavily.
Brian became very uncomfortable standing in the doorway and was feeling awkward. He hated being the go-between.
He stepped away from her.
"Call me, Fiona, if you need anything. And if he calls you again, I think you should pick up. You two need to talk."
Then slowly, he had turned and left.
Fiona watched him leave, then gently closed the door and went back into her house.
Since then, several times, she had started to write a letter to her husband.
Each time it had ended up in the rubbish bin.
But the amount she was managing to write each time before it finally hit the bucket was growing longer.
The Assassin's Gift Page 32