All at once there was a crack, a shattering of glass and a sticky thud as the windscreen in front of the passenger seat was coated in thick red blood. Eva looked at the figure of Jackson collapsing into the seat next to her, glanced back through the shattered rear window and could have sworn she saw Irene Hunt. Then she lost control of the car.
Paul was watching the scenario play out on a screen, filmed from 10,000 feet above. He’d felt some admiration for Eva’s driving under those conditions, handling a car at that speed and under that pressure. And then, suddenly, a shot was fired from the vehicle behind – unexpected. For several seconds, nothing happened before the car lurched to the right and departed the road, careening into a field and turning first onto its hood and then back onto its tyres.
The drone feed showed the other vehicle come to a screeching halt.
Paul checked a figure on his screen and sent another instruction. He had half an eye on the screen and half on the movements of the extensive and colourful ownership portfolio he had inherited from his dead boss. It was literally a goldmine and to those involved it represented decades of intricate work, strategising and risky bargains. To him, it was simply a springboard, a means to an end. There was only one reason he had accepted the offer to become involved in this in the first place and that was access to Leon. He was still waiting for that next opportunity to get to him. Nevertheless what he was doing gave him a thrill. If anyone knew this portfolio existed…
Paul was now feeling relieved to have removed the other man, despite the pressure he had felt during the earlier meeting. Just as Jackson had said he would, he’d found the detail of this all quite fascinating – now that he could see the whole picture. It was an ingenious notion, essentially ‘invading’ a country without anyone noticing, establishing control not with physical might but with purchasing power and ownership. The free market undermining itself. And he was enjoying being the ‘general’, leading the digital charge. He’d arrived just in time for the best bit.
Looking at the laptop, he stroked its smooth metal. What he imagined this represented was control – ultimate, long term, silent control – and, while he didn’t benefit from it personally, he appreciated its ironies and its impeccable construction. Such a thoroughly modern coup.
He knew little about the mechanics but blind eyes must have been turned and backhanders accepted at so many stages to avoid a suspicious mind somewhere connecting the dots. He assumed none of those who had ‘just this once’ compromised on their ethics would have realised how much their apparently insignificant action would have contributed to this incredibly powerful whole. Its very existence was unprecedented. And he had access to all this only thanks to Veritas. The system he himself had developed. No, he corrected himself – borrowed. Briefly, he realised he was beginning to believe his own deception. He shook his head. Veritas, he continued – a key based on truth – the only key that could not be faked, forged or recreated. It was the kind of security a project like this required.
Except it had been misused. It had been tested on one subject who had ended up dead as a result and the other… he glanced again at the drone feed… the other was the focus of all this effort. With the inventor of Veritas gone it could not be set up with another test subject. Thanks to Jackson, Eva was the key.
Eva wiped blood from her eye.
She yanked the key from the car’s ignition.
Smoke was rising all around, she had to get out.
But what had just happened?
She looked down at the body of the man who had been sitting next to her, now twisted and sprawled backwards over her lap.
She used the tips of her fingers to turn the half blown apart head towards her. The face was not Jackson’s. It was not anyone she recognised.
But it had been…
An impulse to escape rose fast and strong but she was trapped by her seatbelt and by the weight of the body pressing down on her. She tried to move, and when she realised she couldn’t, she screamed. And screamed.
She beat out at the body with her fists and kicked at the pedals on the floor and didn’t even notice when the passenger door was opened. She only stopped when she felt the sharp sting of a slap on her cheek.
Her vision popped into sharp focus. She looked up into Irene’s soft grey eyes.
‘Jesus, Eva, get a hold of yourself.’
Eva was breathing heavily, still hyperventilating. ‘Fuck. You,’ she said, loudly. She raised her hand to hit back, but stopped.
There was no reaction from Irene.
She undid her seatbelt and kicked the door further open, ignoring the fact Irene had to jump back. Then, with super human effort, she heaved the body from her and pushed it away. Irene’s presence was motivation to get free. As the body slumped stiffly over towards the other side of the car Eva looked down at smeared blood on her clothes and grazes all over her face and hands. She used the side of the car to haul herself out of the seat, dropping to her knees before pushing herself up to standing; then she limped around the front of the car, wrenched open the passenger door and began hauling out the body, pulling it out onto the ground, ignoring the sickening crunches as the skull hit the car’s bodywork.
When it landed on the floor, she fell on it, ripping the clothes away and righting the head, which was lolling sickeningly to one side.
‘Give me a torch,’ she shouted to Irene.
When the other woman didn’t respond, she yelled again until, finally, Irene’s driver cautiously approached her with an industrial sized light.
Eva held the light over the body in front of her.
‘It’s not him,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s not him.’ And then louder. ‘It’s not him!’
Irene and the driver exchanged glances.
Eva was now frantically scrabbling over the pockets on the body, apparently looking for something. She then progressed to the car itself.
When she found nothing, she returned to the body on the floor. As the frustration welled up inside, the confusion and the disappointment, all she felt was rage. She kicked out at the prone body, an almost unintentional kick which could do no damage. And then she kicked again – harder. And again.
The sickening sound of her foot connecting with the body was all she could hear. But she could not stop.
The gaps between each kick shortened; the strength behind each one was harder.
She was exhaling loudly every time she kicked him, this man who had pretended to be her brother; who she had almost believed.
How could he have looked like him?
What was happening?
Irene watched as Eva kicked out again and again. She was exhaling, grunting, almost screaming and each time she did more damage to the corpse. But apparently she could not stop. With a howl which made Irene’s blood run cold, Eva gave in entirely to the rage and the attack became frenzied.
Irene stood at a distance.
There had been no warning or explanation. Although she had been told to expect a personality change as a result of the drugs, this was unlike anything she had seen from Eva before. Irene was almost afraid to go near her.
But they could not stay here.
Irene walked back to the driver. They exchanged a look and she noted he clearly did not want to be tasked with bringing Eva back under control.
Irene was not surprised.
‘Clean up here. I’ll deal with her.’
THIRTY
Once again Eva found herself staring at Irene as the two sat side by side in the front of the van Irene was driving along the motorway in the dark. She had a strong profile, delicate nose but hard cheekbones, and there was a slight sag in the skin under her chin. Despite this, Irene’s face displayed no weakness, not even side on. It was an impressive degree of control and if it wasn’t for the suspicion Eva felt towards someone so adept at disguise and untruth, she may well have had great respect for her.<
br />
She looked away, leaned her head against the headrest and shut her eyes.
They had left the driver behind at the site of the car crash, along with a selection of clean up tools, and – Eva had noted – a small arsenal of weapons. Eva could not help noticing the wary way he regarded her when she finally stopped attacking the corpse by the car.
Her brother. And yet not.
She still could not make sense of what had happened. He had looked, even sounded, like Jackson. And yet there had been a moment in the car when his face had changed – physically changed from one person to someone completely different. But how was that possible? It wasn’t.
Eva remembered the red-haired woman in the château she had mistaken for Jackson’s ex-girlfriend, Valerie. Why was she hallucinating these people? Was this connected to recent events and, if so, how much? Most of all she wanted to know why, why was this all happening.
She thought back to the conversations she’d had with ‘Jackson’ during the last 24 hours but they were difficult to remember. Had she instinctively known he was not her brother? The only moment she could recall her suspicions was in the back room of the restaurant when she had caught him looking at her – appraisingly, appreciative. It had been confusing at the time but, clearly, her own sibling would never have regarded her like that.
So, who was that man and why – and how – had he done what he had?
She had a thousand questions but she was also exhausted.
‘What did you mean back there, Eva, when you said “it’s not him?” ’
‘What?’
Eva was surprised to realise she had been about to fall asleep.
‘You said “it wasn’t him”. And then you attacked him. What did he do to you while he held you captive?’
‘Captive?’
That face flashed again in front of Eva’s eyes – rough skin, heavy jowels and light, watery blue eyes, not at all her once much loved sibling.
Should she tell Irene?
‘I don’t understand what happened back in Berlin,’ she said, changing the subject.
‘In what way?’
‘Do you know who these people are – do you know about the château?’
‘We did track you there, yes, but I’d like to make clear it took us a while to find you.’ Irene glanced at Eva’s covered forearms. ‘If we had known where you were, we would have removed you immediately.’
‘Why didn’t you know?’
Irene seemed to hesitate. ‘Someone made a mistake.’
‘I thought the house in Berlin was meant to be safe?’
‘Mistakes happen.’
It was an unsatisfactory answer but neither knew how much one owed the other or where the boundaries of their commitment lay. There was no contract, no agreed terms.
An awkward silence fell, as Irene crunched the van’s gears.
‘Do you know what has happened to me over the past week?’
‘No. Tell me.’
‘I can’t.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Eva turned to Irene in the darkness of the van. ‘I can’t tell you because I don’t know. I have no memories.’ She paused before she spoke again. ‘Ninety per cent of me doesn’t even care. And ten per cent… well that part feels… crazy… like back there,’ she said, indicating with her hand the direction behind them where her attack on the corpse had taken place. ‘It’s the strangest thing.’
Irene looked over at her briefly, then back at the road.
‘How do you feel now?’
‘Confused, uncomfortable,’ Eva said, pointing to her forearms, ‘but calm. Occasionally afraid of all the missing time and what it might mean. But not as much as I feel I should be. That’s not how I would normally react.’
‘No.’
After several minutes of silence, Eva started to speak again. ‘Do you think they could have done something to me – permanently altered something inside?’
‘I really don’t know, Eva,’ Irene lied.
‘Why was I even there?’
‘Again, I’m sorry but I just don’t know.’
‘Do you know anything?’
Irene ignored the aggression.
‘I can tell you the man you were with works for an illegal cartel, financial terrorists.’
‘Financial terrorists.’ Eva almost laughed out loud.
‘Yes.’
‘That sounds like tabloid scaremongering.’
‘It’s not a laughing matter.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘A group using violence, intimidation and manipulation for the pursuit of economic aims, rather than those that are purely political.’
Irene waited for Eva’s reaction as she described the real ACORN. She had no idea who that man actually worked for but it would be interesting to see Eva’s reaction to what she was about to say.
‘I don’t think I understand.’
‘They don’t want to kill people to make a political point. They have no particular manifesto. They are focused purely on achieving aims to provide them with economic power and influence. It’s much more subtle.’
‘Why call them terrorists, aren’t they just criminals?’
‘They are organised in the same way as, say, Al Qaida or IS, they have cells all over the world. Their network is not large but it’s almost impossible to expose the people who are involved because they are so well protected and well trained; some are even part of the establishment. Many are simply temporarily attached,’ she said. ‘Either they make a bargain for cash, for favours, or because they are being blackmailed.’
Irene stopped talking. She realised she couldn’t help giving Eva this information. Yes, the context was a lie in that she did not have the degree of separation from ACORN she implied, but still it was information that could change things for Eva. Whether it would clarify or confuse depended on how much they had broken Eva. What Irene couldn’t work out was whether she just enjoyed toying with the younger woman or if she was trying to surreptitiously confess to soothe her guilt for what was about to happen.
‘Simply because of the number of unknowns they are a bigger threat than your average criminal.’
‘But, no suicide bombers?’
‘No. Their work is far more delicate than death.’
‘What is it they’re trying to achieve – I can’t imagine what would tie all this together?’
‘We don’t know.’
Irene hoped the lie would work. She had no idea who Eva had spent the last 24 hours with but attributing his actions to ACORN’s might help Eva to believe that Irene was still her only ally. Eva would not know Irene’s connection to them until it was too late.
Eva was quiet for several seconds before she replied. ‘You don’t know or you won’t tell me?’
Silence. Irene knew if she went too far, provided too much, Eva would be suspicious. She had to continue the same pattern with her.
‘So what’s the link with me?’
‘Again, we don’t know.’
‘Right.’
‘But the likelihood is this has somehow originated from Jackson.’ Irene needed to know whether anything had been said to Eva about her brother.
Eva felt her body begin to tense.
‘From Jackson?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why would there be a link to Jackson from these people?’
‘It’s difficult to understand at the moment, for us too, but it seems he may have become involved with them in Paris. In what context, we don’t know.’
‘Do you think he ever switched sides?’
‘To be honest, Eva, anything is possible.’
Eva stared at the road ahead and wondered whether she should tell Irene what she had seen – the man’s face changing from one identity to another.
‘They are incredibly well resourced,’ continued the older woman, ‘with more wealth and connections at their fingertips than you could possibly imagine. They could have offered Jackson anything – more money than he could ever spend or even a complete change of identity.’
‘A change of identity, how?’
‘We know science is one of their most coveted weapons. They have the most innovative and advanced science on the planet at their fingertips. All the philanthropic advances of mankind are available, at a price, to the highest bidder.’
Eva couldn’t help but pick up on the jaded note in Irene’s voice.
‘One of their developmental areas has been improving the way they provide security to members of their organisation – through disguise. They could completely change his face and body, erase the Jackson you knew.’
‘Could they do it the other way around?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Could they make someone else look like him?’
‘I don’t really know, Eva, but I imagine it would be possible. Although it would presumably be very difficult if the face was going to be exposed to anyone who really knew him.’
Eva was silent.
‘Why do you ask? Did you see him?’
Eva looked at Irene in response to the direct question. Did Irene know what might have happened?
‘I… I am not sure.’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t actually him?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘Where did you see him? At the château?’
Eva took a deep breath. ‘Irene, I thought the man driving the car I was in was Jackson.’
This time it was Irene’s turn to stay silent.
‘He looked just like him.’
Eva felt Irene glance over at her.
‘At least, he did – earlier. By the time you arrived, it clearly wasn’t him.’
Killing Eva Page 23