Kill or Die

by Samantha Lee Howe

  He follows her, noting her lithe figure and the balletic bounce of her step. ‘It’s been a long time coming, this meeting,’ she says.

  There is the trace of a beautiful accent. Vasquez is intrigued by her. She’s beautiful to look at still. The idle question of her age floats through his mind. He is more partial to men, though some women do fascinate him. And Annalise has the potential to be one of them now they’ve finally met.

  She sits on an expensive-looking upright chaise and indicates the single chair opposite. Vasquez sits.

  ‘The next committee meeting will take place in Rome,’ he tells her. ‘There you will be welcomed properly into the fold.’

  He reveals the location. Annalise nods. Her face is serene but unsmiling. She holds herself with dignity and reserve. Vasquez is reminded of the many icons he’s seen of the Madonna, taking up such a perfect and similar pose. She looks benign and yet he knows she is dangerous.

  ‘You’ve done well for me, since our communication,’ Annalise says.

  ‘We are good for each other,’ Vasquez comments. ‘Your information on the other committee members was very useful.’

  Annalise smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. ‘And you took full advantage of it. I had thought you would only remove two members, making room for us both. But no matter. We can move in more suitable replacements now.’

  Vasquez tries to read the neutral tone of her voice. At face value, her comment would appear to be indifferent, but it could also be taken as a reproach. He doesn’t care to be criticised after all he’s done for her so far.

  ‘What of Neva? Have you found her?’ she asks.

  Vasquez pauses before answering. ‘She escaped a trap we laid for her. One of our number foolishly thought he could take her alone.’

  ‘And where is he now?’

  ‘In the morgue,’ Vasquez says.

  ‘Neva?’

  Vasquez nods.

  ‘She’s special,’ Annalise says. ‘We always knew that.’

  ‘As was Michael. But both of them have broken their conditioning,’ Vasquez says.

  ‘We all do that eventually,’ Annalise says. ‘Surely you know that? The important thing is to decide whether you’re in or out. That decision is what can cost, or save, your life.’

  ‘I’m a child of the House,’ Vasquez says. ‘I’m evolved, not broken.’

  Annalise smiles again, a melancholic twist of the lips. ‘Of course.’

  ‘So tomorrow we both fly to Rome,’ Vasquez says. ‘The others want me to escort you. For your safety.’

  Annalise raises an eyebrow at his presumption that she needs protection.

  ‘Then you must stay here,’ she says. ‘Join me for dinner, keep me company and then tomorrow we’ll go and meet the others.’

  Vasquez agrees and, as if Annalise knew all along that he would, they are soon whisked into a magnificent dining room by a starched and formally dressed butler.

  Glorious food is served, a consommé to start, followed by steak tartare. For dessert a decadent baked Alaska is brought out to them.

  Annalise plies Vasquez with fine wines and she dazzles him with her wit and intelligence. His fascination with her increases. It is as if he is with a young, vibrant and beautiful woman. Which he knows she cannot be…

  After dinner she persuades him to dance with her while she plays records on an old gramophone. The records are scratchy but there’s something delightful and nostalgic that makes him think of wartime days he never lived through. It’s charming and innocent. Vasquez is wowed by it and her. A feeling he hadn’t thought himself capable of. He gives himself over to her joy. They dance and laugh and drink champagne.

  Then Annalise shows him how very seductive she is. Poor Vasquez can’t resist.

  Several hours later he wakes in her chamber. Annalise is sleeping beside him. He is fascinated by her pure, smooth, toned body, the beautiful head of hair that, once loosed, flowed down her back. She holds the appearance of youth and yet he knows … she can’t be that young. Perhaps holding back time is how she spends the wealth that her career has brought her.

  Vasquez looks now around this room. A beautiful bedroom suite with a huge, extravagant four-poster bed. He knows there is a full-sized bathroom through the double doors on the left. And behind the shining silver curtains is a balcony that overlooks the glorious French landscape.

  ‘Is it time?’ she says as she wakes, feeling him stir.

  ‘The plane is in a few hours. So yes, we need to get ready.’ He gets out of the bed and stretches. Though he’s naked he shows no signs of being self-conscious.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I had a wonderful evening.’

  He turns to face her, ‘I had…’

  The bullet hits him between the eyes before he completes his sentence. Vasquez falls backwards onto the expensive carpet.

  Annalise gets out of the bed, pulls on her robe and walks around to look at the now dead Vasquez.

  ‘Beautiful. But such arrogance to think you could control us,’ she says.

  By her bedside she presses a call button. A short time later, the butler and two men arrive.

  ‘Get rid of him,’ she orders. Then, leaving the men to remove the body, she goes into her extravagant bathroom and runs herself a bath.

  When she comes out into her bedroom once more, the body is gone, the stained carpet has been cleaned and her bed has been made. Her curtains are open and the French windows to the balcony are thrown wide, allowing the morning sun to spill into the room.

  As is her habit she sits down at the mosaic table. A tray of food waits: a continental breakfast of croissants, pastries, fresh butter and delicious jams.

  Annalise pours herself aromatic coffee from a cafetière into a pure china teacup that sits on a matching saucer. Then she looks out over the immaculate gardens of her chateau. Here, in Toulouse, Annalise is happy and calm.

  Long before Vasquez offered her the chance for advancement, Annalise was in line for a seat on the committee should one become vacant. But she saw his approach as an opportunity to gain a better position. After Beech’s death, Annalise had drawn her plan. She had given Vasquez the names of committee members who had been an inconvenient blockage to her progression. The remainder had long seen her potential for elevation. Especially when she approached and offered to end the upstart Vasquez. They’d feared him because they knew he could reach them. They didn’t know that it was Annalise who helped him do that. After this Annalise played both sides to her greatest advantage, reeling Vasquez in with the promise of this grand meeting with the other committee members. Maybe Vasquez even thought he’d take the rest – her included. But she’d never know if he was that ambitious now and it didn’t matter anyway.

  At sixty Annalise is long deserving of the promotion. But there would be no official welcome into the fold. Unlike the impression that Vasquez has been given, the committee rarely meet in one room. Their conferences were nearly always virtual. This was the safest option for them all as they had many enemies who would relish the opportunity to take them all out in one go. And truly, they didn’t trust each other either.

  Now, with Vasquez removed, Annalise’s rise will be faster. She is going for the top spot, and no one will challenge her for fear of her long-reaching reprisal.

  Breakfast done, Annalise dresses and goes downstairs. In her study she turns on her computer, then logs into the meeting.

  Her camera switches on, and as the others join the conference. Annalise can see them all sitting in their various safe locations.

  It is Marcus who speaks first. He is English and has a casual but upper-class accent. Annalise knows that in the real world he’s a Lord. But they never use anyone’s ‘real’ identity if they know it. It is safer always to retain their codenames. Marcus is in his seventies and the oldest of the committee members, promoted years back by Beech.

  ‘Welcome to Annalise. Who is now a full committee member with all of the privileges this offers,’ Marcus says.

&n
bsp; He introduces himself and then she sees them all for the first time as the screen flicks from face to face as each of them say their codename.

  Kritta; Banwick; Subra; Petters; Conor; Drake.

  Annalise is recording the whole meeting for future reference. She’s met a few of them in the line of duty over the years. Fleeting moments before she carried out their orders. Now she can really get to know who they are.

  When the formality is completed, they begin to address the long agenda. First on the list is promotion of a new chairperson.

  ‘I shall propose myself,’ says Annalise now.

  ‘On what grounds do you deem yourself worthy?’ asks Marcus.

  ‘Vasquez is dead,’ she says. ‘As I promised he would be.’

  There’s a ripple of noise as the committee take in the implication of this death.

  ‘I wondered why he had not joined us today,’ says Marcus.

  She does not explain how she rerouted the email the committee sent, replacing it with one of her own, which was why Vasquez believed the meeting was in person in Rome.

  ‘He was of no more use to us and posed an unstable threat. Which I have removed,’ Annalise says.

  This show of strength is enough for some: Subra and Kritta second and third Annalise’s motion. After that the others have to follow suit. When she is unanimously approved, the business of the committee can continue. After all, few of them wanted to take over from Beech and those that do will hold their cards closer for a while longer to see how they fare under Annalise’s regime.

  ‘And next on the list,’ says Marcus. ‘Armin’s flight never reached Shanghai.’

  ‘Was he definitely on board?’ asks Kritta in her concise German accent.

  ‘Yes. Our sources say the flight disappeared somewhere over the Indian Ocean. For some reason the British secret service is keeping a lid on its disappearance.’

  They discuss this for a time, exploring why.

  ‘Let’s find out what we can,’ Annalise says. ‘Do we have a mole in MI5 or 6?’

  ‘Yes,’ Subra says.

  ‘Activate them,’ says Annalise.

  After the meeting Annalise reviews the footage and captures individual images of each of the committee members. So far her takeover has worked, but just in case there is any planned resistance she will learn what she can about each of them.

  First off Kritta. Annalise studies the screen image taking in Kritta’s appearance. Late forties. Kritta is not a natural beauty. In fact, the woman was very unattractive but not in any obvious way. It was more about her demeanour than her features. There was a humourless, bitter twist to the lips and an emptiness in the eyes. She was German House, middle generation, and Annalise had heard rumours about the warped conditioning, the brutality of this House that went above and beyond any other.

  Next Annalise looks at Petters. A fifty-something former head teacher is what she sees. Though she doesn’t know if this was any career that Petters had followed. He wasn’t former House; Beech had recruited him from somewhere else. She takes a screenshot of him and adde it to a file with Marcus and Kritta’s images.

  Banwick she’s met before. He’d been working in a House that Beech had sent her to inspect. He was a former trainer, and the fitness still showed on his body, such that, despite the balding pate, he behaved like someone young and vital. She is curious about his promotion, wondering when and how it had happened. Banwick wasn’t the type that Beech would have deemed worthy. Yet he must have done something to qualify. She makes a note to try and find out more.

  Drake had been one of the committee members that Annalise had engaged in her efforts to bring about the fall of Vasquez. Looking at him she sees a thin, twitchy man. Nervous in the company of others, but appearances can be deceptive. Drake’s kill history was intriguing and bloody. He was known to have enjoyed his work a great deal, often resorting to torture as a way to prolong the death of his kill.

  Then Annalise looks closely at Subra. Israeli by birth, Subra is stunning to look at. There is an ageless quality about her. A glow that screams youth. Annalise knows about her: Subra’s name has come up many times. A former assassin, Subra had been promoted by Beech and was the youngest member of the committee. She seduced and used many young men to her own advantage. Beech had been concerned by her growing power base.

  Subra was certainly one to watch.

  Annalise saves the screenshots of all of the committee members. Then she pulls up their images again.

  Marcus – a doddering old fool – she dismisses as no threat, but the others potentially are. But one thing is for sure, no one in the Network can ever be trusted.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Michael

  ‘Stanners is an English Lord but he owns a significant estate here in Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park,’ Beth explains as I get behind the wheel of the Range Rover. ‘The place has a full staff, groundskeeper, housekeeper, cook, cleaners and even a butler. So, I’m expecting something magnificent.’

  I switch the engine on and set the sat nav to take us to the estate. ‘Half an hour away. We’ll be in good time.’

  We begin the drive further into the National Park, winding around the Loch and then turning inland. The scenery is beautiful and the roads are quiet. It reminds me of the landscape in Wales near Snowdon that I’ve driven through in the past with a former girlfriend.

  I mention my observation to Beth to pass the time, but it doesn’t take us long to reach Stanners’s estate because the roads are so quiet.

  We almost overshoot because the turn is set back off the road but the sat nav says we’ve reached our destination, so I pull to the side of the country lane. Beth gets out and takes a look to make sure we have the correct entrance to Stanners’s grounds.

  ‘This is definitely the place,’ Beth says.

  The name on the sign is Hamlet’s Retreat and Beth tells me it is not a genuine Scottish castle, but is a folly built by Stanners’s family back in the nineteenth century.

  I turn the car down the track and within a short distance we find ourselves in front of a set of tall iron gates. At the side is an intercom system. I roll the window down and press the call button. Then I give our names and the gates open.

  ‘Follow the main track and park in the visitors’ car park, please,’ says the man on the intercom.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  I drive through the gates and follow the long drive up towards the house and the guest parking area.

  ‘Is there a Lady Stanners?’ Beth asks.

  ‘Ray told me she wouldn’t be here. She’s ill, apparently,’ I tell her.

  ‘Really?’ Beth says. ‘What do we know about them both?’

  ‘Lady Stanners was thirty-five when she became pregnant with Olive. So she’s probably seventy now. Stanners is older than her, by eight years,’ I explain.

  We reach the parking lot for the house and I pull the car into a spot that says ‘Visitors’. There are signs directing us to the house, as though this is a public place where visitors need directions. But as far as I’m aware, Stanners doesn’t open his house for tours. We walk down a wide footpath that runs along a row of leylandii and as we come around the tall well-pruned trees, we see the back of the house ahead.

  ‘Looks like we have to take the servants’ entrance,’ Beth jokes. ‘Oh, how the other half live.’

  A sign directs us to the ‘Estate Office’ and we follow around the mansion until we reach a door at the side of the building. Here there is an extension to the property that appears to have been added as an afterthought. There’s a door with the words ‘Estate Reception’ over it. I press the bell that’s by the side of the door. Inside I can hear the echo of an old mechanism chiming within the house.

  A tall man arrives, wearing a butler’s uniform. We show our identification and the butler steps back from the door and invites us inside into a narrow corridor with several doors on the right-hand side. One of these is marked ‘Estate Office’; another says ‘Est
ate Staff Only’. The butler leads us down the corridor and away from these rooms and into the house proper.

  We pass through an impressive hallway that has a staircase swooping up on the left-hand side to a tall balcony that leads off to multiple rooms. I glance at Beth. Her eyes are wide and she looks awestruck. She meets my gaze and mouths Wow to me. The house may be a folly but it does have character and is very impressive.

  We pass the main front door of the house, which is locked and barred. The butler glances at me and sees me studying the door. It’s twice the height and width of regular doors.

  ‘We rarely open the front door these days,’ explains the butler. ‘Most visitors come through the Estate Reception. Though there was a time when we only ever used the front for visitors. This way, please. His Lordship is waiting for you in his library.’

  The butler opens another tall door and we step through a three-foot-wide arch into a magnificent library.

  I try not to look around at the bookcases that line the walls, crammed with books of all types and sizes, as I focus my gaze instead on Lord Stanners.

  He is standing by the large sash windows looking out over his magnificent lawns. Stanners is a tall, impressive man, with something of the Christopher Lee about him. He turns as we walk towards him and he indicates that we sit on the other side of his desk – which is spectacular: almost seven feet wide with three deep black onyx panels with white birds cut into it, running as a rim around a polished mahogany top.

  ‘Agents Kensington and Cane,’ the butler says in his lilting Scottish accent that makes us sound like a crime-fighting duo from a TV show.

  ‘Thank you, Drew,’ Stanners says. ‘Can you organise some tea for our guests?’

  Drew nods and walks back the way he came.

  Beth and I sit down, and Stanners takes a seat behind the desk, which suits him, and doesn’t dwarf him at all. Everything in this place is larger than normal, including the chairs we sit down in. I glance at Beth: she is lost in hers.