by Anya Lipska
Varenka sighed. ‘Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted to happen. But she was snooping around … and I had to leave.’
‘And now you and your new boyfriend are having a nice time spending Romescu’s money.’
A pause.
‘I am single again, actually,’ she said. He could almost see her drily amused expression across the ether.
So the tattooed driver had been dumped – or disposed of – having performed his function as her getaway driver.
‘It’s quite a skill you have, your ability to use people,’ he said, finding himself unable to say her name. ‘You get Romescu to bring you over from Ukraine, then, once he’s paid your hospital bills, outlived his usefulness, you murder him and move on.’
‘All my life, people – or should I say – men, have used me,’ she said, bitterness curdling her voice. ‘From when I was twelve years old. Can you even imagine what that is like? Your mama probably bought you a bunny rabbit for your twelfth birthday. Mine demonstrated how to use a condom on a client.’
‘Lots of people have terrible childhoods. They don’t all turn into knife-wielding maniacs,’ growled Janusz.
‘What would you know about it? With your nice middle-class upbringing, your university education, your wife and son. People like me? We do whatever we have to do to survive.’
The words ‘wife and son’ jumped out at Janusz. How did she know about Marta and Bobek? Just as Romescu had … Was it Varenka who’d done the digging to discover their address?
He heard the high-pitched noise in the background again, and this time it clicked: it was the sound of a tram, metal wheels squealing as it rounded a bend in the track. He felt like someone had tipped a glass of ice water down his back. Was she in Poland? In Lublin? Mother of God! Don’t let this psychol be anywhere near Marta and the boy!
‘I didn’t protect the one who needed my protection the most.’ She spoke precisely, meaningfully. ‘I have to spend the rest of my life paying for that.’
Was she taunting him, saying he should be in Poland to protect Bobek?
‘Does everyone else have to pay for your failure, whether they’re innocent or guilty?’ he asked, desperation roughening his voice.
She breathed a heartfelt sigh of the sort an actress might learn at the Hollywood school of heartfelt sighs.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said suddenly. Her voice had quickened, as though with suppressed excitement. ‘I’ve just seen the person I’m meeting.’
‘Who’s that then?’ asked Janusz, dreading her reply.
‘An old friend who’s getting out of prison today.’
Realising where she was, he felt the tension flood out of his body.
‘Goodbye, Janusz,’ she said. ‘I have a feeling you don’t know it, but you are the luckiest man alive.’
As he hung up he realised that about that, at least, she was right.
Also by Anya Lipska
Where the Devil Can’t Go (A Kiszka & Kershaw Mystery)
The Friday Project
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This ebook first published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2014
Copyright © Anya Lipska 2014
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Ebook Edition © NOV 2013 ISBN: 9780007524419
Version: [2014-02-25]
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