by J. F. Kirwan
‘And what do you see beyond this mountain of flesh?’
She removed his underpants. He was semi-erect. She sat back on her knees, looked up beyond his overflowing stomach into his eyes.
‘I see a man who’s forgotten how to be loved.’
She touched him, and his semi became full. He grasped a lampstand to steady himself.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Natasha,’ she said.
Almost certainly a lie. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth, making him groan. The metal lampstand snapped inside in his hand.
She lay next to him on the bed. He hadn’t asked her to leave, and she didn’t seem in a hurry, probably because she was safer here. She’d spat into a handkerchief. Evidence.
His mind was silent, a voice missing. Sasha had gone for a long walk. He wondered if she would return. He didn’t want to lose her now, when he was so close to joining her.
He began talking to the girl to fill the void. He told her about Sasha, about his life, about everything, all except the current mission. The words flowed out of him like air from a deflating balloon. She listened, occasionally asked a question. Eventually he grew quiet.
‘A love like that… Almost worth dying for,’ she said.
‘Why don’t you leave here?’
‘I have a sister. Or rather Kadinsky has her. And so he has me.’
Lazarus understood the emotional arithmetic. Kadinsky was good at it.
‘But what I don’t understand,’ she said, ‘is why he has you, Lazarus?’
It was the first time she’d called him by his name. He still didn’t know hers, her real one. He tried to think of Sasha, but instead he stared at this girl. His hand caressed her, tracing the curve of her torso. He touched her, the way Sasha had taught him.
‘I’m freelance, but when Kadinsky asks for work, it‘s unwise to refuse.’
She moved his hand a fraction, left hers on top of his, setting a rhythm. ‘He’s afraid of you. That’s rare.’
Lazarus no longer felt like talking about work. He kissed her, and she moved on top of him. ‘Give me your wrists,’ she said, then held them down on the bed, as if she was pinning him there. He could have thrown her off in an instant, but he surrendered. She rocked back and forth, using him. He held out as long as he could.
The sharp knock on the door surprised him. He’d fallen into a deep sleep for the first time in years, woken like an innocent child, forgetting who and what he was. It was still dark, but the clock by the bedside said 04:00, and he remembered he had to get ready for the flight. He took a quick shower and got dressed, and headed downstairs from where he could see a sedan in the driveway. The girl stood in her black dress, barefoot, by the doorway. She handed him a flask.
‘Coffee,’ she said.
He took it, swept her into his arms and kissed her full on the mouth, lifting her feet off the floor, then put her down.
‘What’s your real name?’
Her dancing eyes drew back, a hint of fear in her expression. She glanced around, then whispered it to him.
In the car, on his way to the airfield, he searched his mind for Sasha, but she had left him. Unbearable sadness threatened to overwhelm him, as it had at her funeral. But in his mind, he signed the last page of that long chapter in his life, and turned a new one. It would be a very short chapter. An epilogue. An ironic one at that. For the first time in years he had something to live for, not just a reason to go on living. Dangerous for a man in his profession. Too bad. Maybe he was being a fool. This had been a night with a whore, nothing more, and she could be a good actress. It didn’t matter. He’d do one last thing, a single good deed, and save a flower floating on the river of blood and shit that had been his life, and all those he’d taken. Then maybe Sasha would forgive him on the other side.
Chapter Sixteen
Nadia knew she’d most likely have to kill today. She hadn’t been ready with Janssen. Was she ready now? She had to make peace with herself. No, she had to make peace with the two parents she carried inside her, locked in a custody battle that reached beyond the grave. That’s the trouble with parents dying, you could no longer reason with them, only what they put inside you. But there was a question she’d never asked her mother. And it mattered.
She imagined the conversation, because it was her only option.
‘Mother, if you came home and found I was being raped by a man at knife-point, and Dad’s pistol was within your reach, would you shoot him?’
What would her mother do? She’d fluster, find something in the kitchen to chop, knead, cook. ‘Nadia, only God can take a life,’ she’d say. Then she’d stop, turn and face her daughter. ‘If you kill, you rob that man of any chance later in life to repent, to mend his ways. And if you kill others, like your father did, you take so much more. No more thoughts, words, smiles.’
Nadia had her answer. In her mind, she turned to her father. ‘Dad, would you –’
‘In a heartbeat.’
She made her choice.
But she couldn’t do this alone.
She sheltered underneath the narrow eaves of Pete and Ben’s locked-up dive shack, the rain lashing against her jeans, puddling around her soaked trainers. She hoped she wasn’t waiting in vain. Danton had Elise, no other explanation. Fi had gone to the police, who apparently weren’t taking Elise’s disappearance too seriously at this stage, given the nature of holiday romances and girlfriend-boyfriend tiffs.
Jake had Nadia’s Beretta and her mobile, and was out of sight in the nearby café, where she hoped he’d stay. The tracker device was on her, linked to the phone. It was small and round, located somewhere no one should look. She figured Danton wanted to trade Elise for the Rose. But then he’d want to tell her in person, and the inn had become too busy, especially after a constable had been there to inspect Elise’s room. So, Danton – the torturer with the hammer – would have interrogated Elise, would know Nadia was trying to dive the Tsuba, would work it out, and would turn up here, sooner or later.
She’d asked Jake if he’d ever killed anyone, and he’d given the answer she’d expected. But he’d said he had killed a bull shark once, to protect his son Sean after they’d been cornered in a cave by one off Gozo. He didn’t say how he’d done it, but she knew bull sharks were big and mean. So, she’d killed a bear, him a shark. She shook her head.
What a team.
A man approached, and she narrowed her eyes to try and see more clearly through the sheets of rain sweeping the empty street. As he drew closer, she recognised his slightly portly frame despite his heavy coveralls, his uncertain, almost hunched gait, and as he drew closer, those haunting, don’t-lie-to-me eyes beneath a fisherman’s hat.
Ben.
He walked up to her, dug inside his waterproof jacket and pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a couple of puffs, and handed it to her.
How did he know? She took it, and inhaled deeply.
‘No news on Elise?’ he asked.
She shook her head. But there was something about the way he asked. ‘Ben, are you and Elise…?’
He laughed, went to the shack, unlocked it and gestured inside. She took a look down the road, then stepped in out of the rain.
‘I thought I might have a chance with her, especially after Jake left here. Dreaming as usual,’ he said, with a sad smile. He caught her eye. ‘She loves Jake.’ He said it like it was an epitaph. Nadia was unsure whose it was meant to be.
‘She’ll be okay, Ben. I promise.’
He gave her an appraising look, his eyes full of questions, but he didn’t ask them.
‘Well, don’t know what I’m doing here, really,’ Ben said. ‘Just feel I need to do something.’ He looked at her intently again. ‘There’s more going on here than we know, isn’t there?’
She nodded.
‘Is it you, or Jake?’
She shrugged. ‘A little of both.’
‘Well, Jake’s a good man. That much I do know.’ He flicked his c
igarette out into the rain. ‘When Jake arrived, Pete and I could barely stand the sight of each other, still cut up about losing our dad, see? Anyway, Jake sorted us out. Think he was trying to escape his own pain, but whatever the reason, he brought us back, healed us. And pulled me out of a wreck. Truth is, we’d probably do whatever he asked of us.’ He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t think you’re a bad-un, either.’
She smiled. He’d never know how much she’d needed to hear that right at this moment.
He made to leave, and she stepped back out into the rain. He locked up, then pointed. ‘You see that small boat, the flame-coloured one part-covered with a white tarpaulin?’
She followed his gaze, and spotted it through thick cords of rain. A small boat, sleek but otherwise nothing special.
‘Fastest boat in the Isles. Can outrun a Navy patrol boat. It sits so low in the water it don’t show up on any radar. Dragonfly. Large enough fuel tank to reach the mainland.’
She stared harder. ‘Who owns it?’
‘It’s mine.’
She recalled the hunt for the bear with her father. They’d found a deer, its neck snapped like a twig. Not eaten, just killed by a bear’s rage. Harmless. Defenceless. It had been one of the reasons she’d been able to shoot the bear in the end.
She touched his arm. ‘Ben,’ she said. ‘When the weather dies down, I’m going to dive the Tsuba.’ She thought of the SEALs, of Adamson. ‘I want you to stay away from it.’
He gave her that laser-like stare again. ‘All right. As it’s you asking.’
She felt relieved, not entirely sure why. She had the feeling a lot of blood was going to be spilled before the end, and didn’t want Ben caught up in it.
Ben looked out to sea. ‘Right, I’m going to go check some old haunts, just in case.’ He passed her another cigarette. ‘You take care, now.’
Nadia watched him walk off, his gait surer, no longer hunched. You could do a lot worse, Elise. But as soon as she’d thought it she wondered whether the girl was even still alive.
Her cigarette died. She dropped it into a puddle and, out of habit, stubbed it out under her boot.
Come on Danton, show yourself.
And then, through the endless waterfall, she spotted a beat-up Ford Fiesta as it kerb-crawled its way towards her, its windscreen wipers completely ineffectual. The passenger door swung open. The man with the straw hat sat behind the wheel, a Luger in one hand, the other on the wheel. On the passenger seat was Elise’s purple neckerchief.
Nadia got in.
The house was a smart choice: secluded, a long straight path rising slowly uphill to reach it, surrounded by grassland. No cover. Nadia sat by the lounge’s bay window, her hands tied tight behind her back by a thin nylon cord. Danton lazed opposite her on a sofa from where he could see beyond her and survey anyone approaching. She wondered where the owner was, though she had a hunch.
She studied Danton: unshaven, unkempt sand-coloured hair, muscled in a general way like he’d been doing weights all his life, but no longer a body-builder, and eyes that looked as though they could haunt you beyond the grave. She’d looked into plenty of killers’ eyes before – they were usually dead, like holes – but his had a glint. He’d developed a taste for it. He clearly liked power, to be in absolute control. She thought of Sammy, how he must have suffered, and the fact he’d lied about her whereabouts to Danton, despite the torture.
He’d searched her roughly as soon as they’d arrived, then tied her and sat her in the chair. Since then – hours ago – he’d moved about but said nothing. A Luger sat on a small coffee table to Danton’s right. An antique, but it looked functional. It was getting dark outside. He got up and went through to a back room, opened a door. Nadia heard a small scream, a defiant one quickly muffled.
Elise.
He dragged her into the room, her wrists tied behind her back, a scarf around her jaw keeping a gag inside her mouth. Her t-shirt was torn, her creased skirt had spatters of mud and dirt on it. Danton shoved Elise onto the sofa where he’d been sitting moments before, opposite Nadia.
Elise’s face was tear-streaked, and a dark bruise the size of Danton’s big knuckle was coming up on her right cheek. There were marks on her throat. She glared raw anger at Nadia, barely holding back tears. Her face was an accusation, and Nadia guessed what Danton had done to her. But it was the last thing in the world Nadia would have wished on anyone. She felt a surge of guilt. She’d dragged these innocent people from their ordinary lives into a sorry world of pain.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Nadia said to Elise.
Elise’s eyes spat daggers.
Danton parked himself next to Elise, and laid a hand on her thigh. She winced, but that only made him grip her harder.
‘The Rose, tomorrow,’ he said. ‘You come straight here after the dive. If Adamson approaches you, you kill him with your little toy Beretta.’
He’s been in my room! But there again was the power thing, him showing her what he could do. Unprofessional. She’d been right to try to talk to Bill – Adamson, apparently – rather than Danton. This bastard needed to be put down with a hole straight through one of those garish eyes.
Of course, if she delivered the Rose there was no way he’d let either of them live. If they were lucky he’d make it quick. But Nadia and luck weren’t on speaking terms. What she needed was more time. Rather, Jake needed more time, it all depended on him now. Would he let her down? No, she decided. Because of Sean. All right, then focus. Thank God it was nearly dark. She needed to sink a hook into Danton, to skewer him by his Achilles’ heel, which was undoubtedly a different part of his anatomy.
‘Deal,’ Nadia said. ‘But you don’t touch her any more.’
Elise’s eyes flared, and she tried to speak, but whatever she said was muted by the gag. Nadia knew she had to remain cool, and so stared only at Danton, ignoring Elise as if she was an object, nothing more. The way Danton viewed women.
He smirked. ‘And why would I do that?’
Elise tried to get up. Danton struck her face with the back of his hand, and she quietened. Still no tears. Good for you, girl. Nadia kept her features calm. Distraction. That was the key. Just enough to keep his eyes away from the window.
‘Because,’ Nadia said, ‘I can offer you something better.’
Danton’s leer diminished. Nadia held his gaze, but could also see Elise staring at her.
He gave a short laugh. ‘Promises, promises. I’ve had more pussy than I care to remember, better than you. And blondie here,’ he squeezed Elise’s thigh again, ‘she’s prettier than you are.’
Nadia ignored the jibe. The hook was in. She twisted it. ‘Sure, you’ve paid for it, or you’ve taken it. Fear can be a kick, but that’s not love-making, not what a real man does. And you can kid yourself with hookers, but they always hold something back, don’t they? You see it in their eyes. You’re just another trick.’
His face was suddenly ugly. But he wasn’t checking the window any more.
Jake, you’d better be out there.
She reeled him in. ‘So, what if, for once in your life, a girl actually gave to you, gave you everything? Could you handle that, Danton? A girl you didn’t bully or pay for? Not a fuck-object, not just another pussy to masturbate inside while you imagine yourself fucking like a tiger in your own live porn video.’
He was on his feet, standing above her. ‘You think you can trick me, little Russian bitch?’
‘I’m tied up, remember? So is she. This is probably your one and only chance.’
She didn’t want to give him time to think, she needed his balls to take over. Nadia pushed herself forward off the chair, so that she ended up on her knees, her face level with his crotch.
‘I’m not talking about tomorrow, Danton, I’m talking about right now.’
His chest heaved above her. She held his gaze. She knew he was unsure, because he wanted what she was offering, but it meant she had power over him. She tried to nudge him over the edge.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘I want you to.’
He smirked, then folded his arms. ‘Nice try, cunt. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re a good girl.’ He pushed his forefinger through her lips, forced it inside her mouth. She thought seriously about biting it off. Jake, where the hell –
The bay window exploded, showering her with shards of glass that skittered to the floor. Danton was punched backwards onto the sofa, while Nadia fell sideways to the floor. She kicked the legs of the coffee table, sent the Luger flying. She tried to get up, but a piece of glass cut into her arm just below the elbow, making her fall back down.
Jake barged through the door, Beretta level in his right hand. He ran into the room, then froze. Nadia looked up to see Danton with his hands around the front and back of Elise’s head, ready to snap her neck. Blood dribbled from a wound in his chest.
‘Put the gun down, boy, or say goodbye to little girlie here.’
Elise made a noise, tried to shake her head inside his grip.
Nadia still couldn’t get up, glass all around her. ‘Do NOT put the gun down, Jake. He’ll kill us all.’
Danton’s voice was ragged. ‘Put the gun down, Jakey. You have three seconds.’
‘Don’t,’ Nadia shouted. ‘He won’t kill her, because if he does, you’ll kill him.’
‘Hole in my chest, bitch,’ he said, coughing. ‘What have I got to lose? One.’
Nadia struggled onto her knees. ‘Jake, he’s one evil sonofabitch, don’t you dare put the gun down!’
‘Two.’
Jake put the gun down.
She couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t happening! Elise began to sob.
Jake spoke, his voice oddly calm. ‘I killed a bull shark, once. Know how I did it?’
Nadia glanced at him. What? But he was staring straight at Danton.
‘You talking to me, boy?’ Danton sneered, a real cheese-grater grin, evidently feeling back in control. He released his grip on Elise. Nadia guessed the bullet hadn’t penetrated deep enough, slowed down by the glass. Maybe he had something in his chest pocket as well. He was acting as if he only had a flesh-wound. No blood when he coughed. The bullet hadn’t reached his lung.