Killing Eva

by Alex Blackmore

  ‘Hallo?’

  She didn’t even say the name of the hotel.

  ‘Hi,’ said Eva. ‘I left your hotel several hours ago and I forgot to check out of room 311. I just wanted to say I left the room key on the desk in the room and my room service bill was settled by a colleague.’

  Eva stopped speaking.

  Why was she making this call? It was as if, in this ridiculous situation, she was attempting to preserve a semblance of normality.

  There was a short silence on the other end of the phone and then… ‘you are Miss Scott?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘I think the police want to speak with you…’

  ‘Are they still there?’

  ‘No, but they left information for you to contact them.’

  ‘Ok, I will, of course,’ she said, not asking for the information.

  ‘Could you possibly tell me what happened to the young man who was injured?’

  There was a hesitation on the other end of the phone, as if the woman was consulting someone else. Eva realised she would have to hang up soon.

  ‘The British man?’

  ‘Yes, I believe he was shot outside your hotel.’

  ‘He is dead.’

  ‘I see. And do you, by any chance, know who came for his body?’

  ‘I don’t think I understand the question.’

  ‘Was he taken away in an ambulance?’

  ‘A private ambulance I believe. But why are you asking this? I really think you must speak to the police.’

  ‘Thanks for your help.’

  Eva hung up.

  She had done nothing particularly incriminating by calling from her mobile as they already had her number on their records and would no doubt give it to the police. She seriously doubted there was any trace on the call, presumably everyone at the hotel was still so shocked by what had happened no one had yet started connecting it all together for the police. Well, she was relying on that anyway.

  Reckless…

  There was a soft knock at the door and the man who had shot Sam walked in with a tray bearing a sandwich, a bottle of water and a mug filled with what looked like tea. She had the distinct impression he had been listening at the door.

  He put the tray on a side table but didn’t smile at her. Eva made a mental note to lock the bedroom door when he had gone and then, glancing over at it, realised there didn’t seem to be a lock. Just a small, round handle.

  She moved her gaze back to the man and watched as he tested the balance of the table on which he was placing the tray.

  ‘How’s Anya?’ she asked.

  He finally made eye contact. His face looked grim. ‘She will live. But your friend did her some serious damage.’

  ‘He’s not my friend.’

  ‘Anya said you told her he was your boyfriend.’

  ‘He was. He’s certainly not anymore.’

  ‘He’s not anything anymore.’

  Eva started at the bluntness. Grey eyes stared back at her unflinchingly. He had been eavesdropping at the door.

  ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘I guess not.’

  The man turned to go.

  ‘Look, can you tell me anything more? Irene didn’t seem to have much information but I always have the feeling with her that she’s holding most of it back.’ She laughed as she spoke but could see there would not be a jovial response.

  ‘Honestly? I wouldn’t tell you, even if I knew.’

  Eva was surprised at the hostility but she didn’t respond. Obviously, there was much about her role in this situation she didn’t understand.

  Or perhaps this man – what had Irene called him? Sassan, that was it – perhaps Sassan and Anya were… if that were true, he might blame Eva for what had happened to the other woman.

  Which would be illogical. But emotions cloud logic.

  Sassan stopped by the door and seemed to relent. ‘All we know is that, whatever we are looking at, involves cartels – at the moment, there is very little else to go on.’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘No. Finance.’

  Eva remembered she had been thinking about the issue only that morning. Which was an odd coincidence. Wasn’t it?

  ‘Is it connected to the Association for the Control of Regenerative Networking?’ She was fishing.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.’

  She gazed at him and wondered whether he was telling the truth. Probably not; although his inability to disguise the emotional reaction to Anya suggested he was not as much of a robot as Irene. Not yet, anyway.

  If he was telling the truth then this new team – whoever they may be and whatever their purpose – knew nothing of what had happened before. Perhaps that was because it wasn’t relevant to what was happening now.

  But then why the acorn…?

  After the man had gone, Eva sat down on the bed again and drank the tea. It was very sweet and, whoever had made it, was obviously assuming she was still in shock. In fact, she felt quite the opposite, her body was alive with adrenaline, her thoughts were starting to rush, and she desperately wanted to go for a run. She glanced out of the window – it was getting dark outside. Was it madness to set off around streets she didn’t know after what had happened today? Or, would she simply blend in unnoticed. Mentally, she knew the physical exercise was exactly what she needed. But, obviously, no one in this house was going to let her go. Whether she was a threat or useful, they would want her to remain firmly within their control.

  However, it might be a good opportunity to test out just how much autonomy she really had here. And to make sure that she hadn’t become so accustomed to crashing from one out-of-control situation to the next that she would allow someone else to steer the course of her life without question.

  She would go. It was crazy, maybe even stupid, but she was going to do it.

  Reckless… the word played around the edges of her brain again.

  She put down the tea mug forcefully, walked over to her case, pulled out her running clothes and set them on the bed. She moved over to the window, closed the blind over the dark sky outside and began to change.

  Somewhere at the back of her mind was a voice screaming ‘after everything that has happened recently, what are you doing, this is madness!’ but Eva was on autopilot. She needed to feel better. Running would make her feel better. It was the only way she knew to process everything. She was blinkered.

  When she was ready to go, Eva flicked on a lamp sitting on the broad top of a sturdy moulded plastic desk. She found a pen and notepad and wrote a simple ‘gone for a run, back soon’ and left it where someone could see it. She was going to go around the block a few times – within shouting distance of the house – so was sure there wouldn’t be any trouble. Of course, those were famous last words.

  With a shiver of excitement, she slipped out of the bedroom door and made her way down the stairs, trying to avoid the creakier steps, until she was standing in front of the door to the street. There was a key on a hook that looked as if it would fit the locking mechanism and she took it and zipped it into the pocket of her running pants. Now, she really was beginning to feel reckless. But she knew this would make her feel better and it was something she could do for herself in a situation where she had no other semblance of control. I have to do this, she repeated obsessively. She stood still for several seconds and listened – the house seemed completely still, silent and empty. Then, from somewhere deep in its recesses, she heard a groan which developed into a scream. Eva froze. It was a chilling sound. She glanced at the front door again. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  Then, she wrenched open the front door and stepped outside.

  No one had stopped Eva as she made her way down the front steps from the house and on to a dark street lined with towering houses and blocks
of flats. She had expected to hear her name called, or to feel herself being bodily dragged back inside, but, apparently, everyone was caught up in something else. Presumably related to the scream…

  Outside, it was a half light between day and evening. It was cold but, to Eva, it felt refreshing. She took several deep breaths, filling her lungs, before setting off along the pavement at a gentle jog. She hadn’t brought her phone with her so she would have to remember the route she took and find her way back without it – that, in itself, was slightly unnerving as she had become reliant on Maps apps to move around.

  The road in front of her was straight and long and she thought she could probably run for fifteen minutes, circle back and then do another lap, repeat, and that should be enough – if it wasn’t, she could just keep repeating until it was. There were a few people around walking home from work, one woman with a pushchair, but few lights were on in the windows lining the road. The area had a feeling of being recently gentrified but it was shadowed by something else.

  As Eva ran, she felt her heartbeat start to fall in line with her regular breathing. Warmth spread throughout her body and she began to sweat. She felt her mind relax as the physical motion took over.

  When, fifteen minutes later, she reached the end of the huge street she turned and began to run back the other way. She was a little unnerved by the darkness, so she had decided that, when she reached the house again, she would do one more lap and finish, run back inside and shower in the ensuite, eat the sandwich and no one would be any the wiser.

  As she ran, she tried to be as observant as possible of the people around her. Most were walking with their heads down as the darkness became more complete and the cold really set in. On the other side of the road, she could see a couple walking slowly, holding hands, their breath making frosty shapes in the night air.

  She glanced back to the road in front of her. At the solitary figure walking towards her. It was a man, well built – the kind of physique Eva liked, leanly muscled and strong. He had a slightly limping gait but was walking quickly, as if he had somewhere to be. His head was down, he seemed focused on the pavement. And then he looked up.

  He began running towards her at speed.

  Eva stumbled.

  It was Leon.

  Her heart was pounding. How had he found her, yet again?

  She had to get away. Skidding to slow down, Eva swerved right and ran up the middle of the road, avoiding the pavement lined with walls or bushes she could be dragged behind. She could hear his pounding feet approaching and, even with the limp, she knew he could catch her. She swerved left sharply, back onto the pavement, and heard him swear and follow; his ankle was clearly giving him trouble. Maybe she could use that. The house was still too far away for her to outrun him. Inevitably, the pounding tread was coming closer. She stopped suddenly and turned, braced herself, faced him.

  ‘What do you want?’ she shouted, as he came to a stumbling stop several paces away from her. He wasn’t even out of breath.

  ‘I want your phone,’ he said firmly and took two huge steps towards her, grabbing the front of her running shirt as he moved, pulling it tight so it trapped her shoulders and arms and then hustling her up against a wall. He started patting her down as if searching for it.

  She fought him. He cursed at her. She managed to free an arm and hit him on the side of the head but Leon didn’t even flinch. Instead, with his free hand, he slapped her back.

  Eva stopped moving and stared at him breathlessly. Something changed in his face. The same thing she had seen in the park.

  She was breathing heavily, hiccupping almost. But she was nowhere near tears.

  He had stopped moving, he seemed frozen. But he hadn’t let her go.

  ‘Back off,’ she hissed, into his face so close to hers.

  ‘I can’t, Eva.’ The voice was oddly hollow.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just can’t.’

  ‘Are you ever going to tell me what happened back in South America?’

  The question took him by surprise. He dropped his grip on her shirt. Eva was released but didn’t move away.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said quietly.

  ‘You switched sides. Or you seemed to. Perhaps that was where your loyalties lay all along.’

  He moved a half pace away but his eyes never left hers. ‘I can’t do this right now.’

  The two continued to stare at each other. Eva was sweating, breathing heavily, Leon’s dark features were stone-like. She waited for him to make the next move. Why doesn’t he just break my neck and force me to give him the bloody handset, she thought. His standard modus operandi. But he just stood looking at her, as if he had no idea what to do.

  TWENTY

  Although Eva seemed to slip back into the house unnoticed, she had a feeling someone within those immaculately decorated four walls knew she had left and now returned. She realised, as she quietly shut the heavy front door, that she had been relying on their powers of observation and relentless interference when she had set off out into the street to run. If she had not returned, they would have come for her. Right?

  It hadn’t escaped her that she was slightly elated, as well as shocked and scared, after the encounter with Leon. Finally, she had been able to ask him ‘why’ – something that she had wanted to do since Paraguay. Not that he had given her a satisfactory answer. But sometimes asking the question was enough.

  Eva glanced around the hall but still no one appeared. Perhaps this time they hadn’t been watching. She doubted that somehow.

  It briefly crossed Eva’s mind to ask Irene whether she had any information on the night Eva had lost her memory; or about the possible truth in the visions she’d had in which she had seen Joseph Smith. If there had been surveillance to the extent Anya had indicated, they might be able to provide answers.

  But Eva was hesitant. She still didn’t know what had happened to her after Berghain, how much of it had been ‘her fault’. Or even what ‘it’ was. And she still couldn’t shift this lingering feeling of guilt. And shame. Irene had already said she thought Eva was reckless and perhaps she would just assume that situation was a natural consequence. Eva didn’t want to see judgment in those steely eyes. And nor did she want to see evidence that Irene knew what else had happened – especially if it was something Eva would not want to hear.

  She looked down.

  In her hands, she held Leon’s wallet. She had taken it from him – easily – when he’d had her in his grasp. Which was surprising. But then he had not seemed himself.

  ‘I thought you’d probably ignore instructions.’

  A voice brought Eva back into the room like a slap in the face. Irene, who had apparently appeared from nowhere, was standing across the hall.

  Eva lowered her hands to her side and held the wallet casually, as if it was hers.

  ‘I wanted some cigarettes.’

  ‘You don’t smoke.’

  ‘Sometimes I just want one.’

  Eva observed Irene looking at her running gear and felt herself caught in the untruth. That was stupid. She could lie better.

  The light bulb in the hallway flickered above their heads, as if acknowledging the power struggle being played out below. Ostensibly, Irene was the one in control. But appearances could be deceptive. Both of them knew that.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ Eva said, as she crossed Irene’s path and headed for the stairs.

  Irene’s response was so quick that Eva barely saw her traverse the floor. But within a split second Eva had her back to the banister – before she had even finished speaking the word ‘shower’. Although Irene was shorter and slighter than Eva, she had positioned herself on the step above, trapping Eva against the hard wood.

  One hand was around Eva’s throat. The grip was loose but tense.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Ev
a was taken by surprise but doing her best to disguise it.

  Irene had never actually touched Eva before. Or physically threatened her. It was a development.

  ‘Don’t cross me, Eva.’

  Neither woman moved. Eva didn’t struggle at all. Her main focus was regaining control of her breathing, which had accelerated instantly at the shock of such an unexpected attack. She squeezed the soft leather of Leon’s wallet and it felt warm to the touch. She forced herself to remain still. If she struggled, Irene would only tighten her grip.

  Finally, Irene began to let go. She released Eva’s throat but Eva didn’t break eye contact with her. For several seconds more the stand-off continued but neither made another move.

  Then Irene’s posture changed and Eva noticed her male assistant had appeared at the side of the room. Had he seen that?

  ‘It’s Anya,’ he said quietly.

  Irene turned and left with him, without a backward glance, her sensible heels tapping quietly at the floor.

  Eva turned around and leaned forward, using one of the steps to steady herself. It felt as if she had been holding her breath since Irene had touched her. Perhaps she had been. Every nerve ending was alight, almost burned through – there had been no break in the adrenaline since the contact with Leon only minutes before. And Sam before that. She was beginning to feel like a character in a video game.

  She steadied her balance. There was no time to fall apart. She looked again at the wallet and jogged back up the stairs.

  After she had taken a shower, Eva emptied the contents of Leon’s wallet onto the bed. It contained nothing personal at all – business cards, receipts, a bank card and several platinum credit cards, one of which was not in his name. This did not surprise Eva; she knew he lived about six lives other than his own. She began sorting through the business cards, then stopped. Her eyes widened in surprise. There, amongst four other smart and well designed pieces of thickly expensive cardboard, was a name she recognised very well.

  ‘Dinner,’ came a voice from the door, which flew open, banging against the wall behind it.