The Pearl Thief

by Fiona McIntosh

  He held up the syringe, which Katerina watched Mayek notice for the first time with a wide-eyed whimper. ‘Quick, simple, hard to detect and painful, I hope, but I can’t be sure about that last one. It will stop your heart in an instant, so even if there is some pain, it will be fleeting.’ Daniel swept a hand in the air. ‘You will be found in this empty flat, with no sign of its previous tenant, who, even her work colleagues will attest, had left her job weeks ago. And she will have an alibi, anyway, provided by us. People will wonder at the smell and a helpful call from one of my men in a fortnight to ensure we muddy the day and time of death will alert police. We’ll make sure you’ll look like a squatter … an old, sick man taking shelter in a vacant flat. Your family need never know the truth of your past and this is the only kindness I will show you because I agree with Katerina – they don’t need to know the devil was amongst them. They’re the innocents and we will allow them to remember you in their way.’

  Her breath came so shallow she wasn’t sure she was breathing. It felt like a gap was opening in her thoughts, slicing through her mind, and she was angry to sense it filling with sympathy for Rudy and his terrible decision ahead. What a cruel choice … but then the gap became a pit and the pit became a grave and from the grave stared her dead family. Their eyes were open but they saw nothing; their naked bodies were too thin, too pale, and she could hear her screams dulled by the canopy of a forest she had once loved. She could also hear laughter and it belonged to Rudy. And in her mind she watched him close one eye, take aim with his pistol, hold his breath and squeeze gently. ‘She’s down,’ she heard him say. ‘Drag her back and throw her in with the other filthy Jews.’

  Her eyes snapped wide again and back at Rudy. She swallowed her pity and found the hatred she shared with Daniel. It was like a taut, invisible cord that tied their psyches. She could almost sense hers reaching out, curling around his and wrapping together for strength.

  Daniel’s voice was thick, hard. ‘Decision time, Mayek.’

  Ruda Mayek looked at her again, then back at Daniel, and his sigh seemed to collapse him into himself. He looked like death would take him soon anyway.

  Daniel pointed to the syringe. ‘I’m guessing this one?’

  Rudy nodded once.

  ‘The wise choice,’ Daniel sneered. ‘But first, I believe Katerina has something else she wishes to say to you.’

  Her breath now caught in her throat as she watched Daniel gesture for one of the men to use more duct tape to secure Mayek to his death chair, wrapping it around his shoulders. ‘Just for a few minutes so we know she’s absolutely safe.’ He glanced at the men; they seemed to understand and filed away. ‘Katerina?’

  She looked at Daniel.

  ‘We are just outside.’

  She breathed out, shocked that she was still going to have her opportunity to kill Ruda Mayek in her own way.

  ‘Katerina?’

  Again she lifted her gaze from Mayek to Daniel.

  ‘Don’t remove the tape around his mouth. Don’t let any of his filthy words touch you.’

  She nodded. The men left and she turned slowly to Edward. ‘You may not want to hear this.’

  He had been silent, like a shadow lurking in the corner of her room. ‘How can I know?’

  ‘You can’t.’

  ‘I shall remain because I don’t intend to leave you ever again. Say to him what you have to say.’

  For the moment, at least, Mayek seemed intrigued for the stay of execution.

  ‘Rudy, the plea in your expression has no effect. I am not your judge. The Mossad is. You should have left the Ottoman Pearls in their box and never allowed your greed to overcome that once horribly sharp mind of yours, or I’d never have found you again. But now that we’re here I do want to tell you something. I just never thought I’d get the chance.’

  She paused, taking stock, feeling the tension trapped in her chest like a caged bird, desperate to find an escape. This was it; this was the encounter she’d only allowed herself to dream she might one day have. This was the moment she’d told herself would give her the release she needed to rid herself of the dark and finally climb out of the grave she felt she’d lived in all these years.

  Say it, she commanded herself. Katerina looked down, drew a slow, deep draught of air into her lungs, forcing her to square her shoulders to their full sharp angle. She lifted her chin, despite the pain it pinged into the rest of her face, and let her gaze fall fully with hatred upon Ruda Mayek, hoping her cat’s eye continued to offend him.

  He watched her intently, unsure.

  ‘You always wanted a son, Rudy.’

  Creases formed at his forehead; the remark had taken him by surprise.

  ‘Well, I want you to know you fathered one. A golden-haired boy came early into the world in 1942. He was born not far from the forest in which you raped me.’ She refused to look at Edward but she sensed he was appalled. ‘I gave birth to him cursing your name and refusing to give him one, especially not yours.’

  She was sure the words were scalding her lips as they stepped out of her mouth. This was her most guarded secret. She waited to see the effect on the father of her son. He was staring at her with so much disbelief in his gaze that she sensed he no longer felt fear over what was coming. In a few heartbeats he had become a famished man, hungry for any morsel she might offer on the child she knew meant more to him than either of his daughters. This fact alone sickened her and made her tone deepen, her resilience stir and strengthen. She felt no more the pain at her cheek as she pressed on, emboldened, aware of the seconds leaking away before Daniel would return.

  ‘He was beautiful … like you were as a child, Rudy. He would grow up in your image – of that I was sure. He was weak, though, from his early arrival. As I gave him no name, I also gave him no milk. I refused him all nourishment from my body. I watched him wither. And then …’ She faltered, horrified that she began to weep. ‘I helped him to die and I pretended he was you.’

  Rudy roared behind his bindings, his eyes glazed with tears and rage.

  ‘And when your son was dead I followed your lead and I buried him directly in the soil of an unmarked grave in the forest; he was naked, tiny, helpless. With each spadeful of dirt I threw over that small body, I found strength. And then I walked away from him … from you … from my past. Until now, of course. But I’m glad I could share this with you. I’m glad your son died unknown, unnourished, unloved … and I’m relieved that you will be dead this day too.’

  Her heart felt hard and cruel as she watched the tears cut channels down his fleshy cheeks.

  ‘Goodbye, Rudy. May your dark soul rot quickly.’

  She could not look at Edward for fear of what his silence and expression would reflect. Katerina Kassowicz sniffed away her helpless tears at the mention of her baby and she refused to listen for another second longer to the anguished wails that erupted from the man who had haunted her life.

  Still ignoring Edward, Katerina opened the door to the surprised but silent enquiry of Daniel. ‘I imagine he’ll go quietly for you now,’ she remarked. ‘I doubt it can come quickly enough.’

  Daniel couldn’t help himself. He gently grasped her elbow. ‘What did you say to him?’

  She shook her head. ‘No one will ever hear such a thing again.’ She was still glassy-eyed with tears. ‘Are you going to do this?’

  He nodded and glanced towards Edward, who looked nearly as ashen as the grey-faced man on the sofa. ‘It looks like you’ve already killed him … but that was your intention, wasn’t it? We will take care of everything. A woman resembling you has already purchased train tickets to York at King’s Cross a few minutes ago and made a slight scene so she’ll be remembered … just in case we need an alibi.’

  She was surprised but heartened by his precautions. ‘A boy called Billy from the pub up the road saw me today – he recognised me and wished me well.’

  Daniel shrugged, unbothered by this. ‘As far as anyone is concerned, you packed
up and left your flat today. My men will remove everything of yours.’

  ‘It’s just that suitcase in the bedroom – I don’t want anything else.’

  He nodded. ‘So you left, leaving the keys inside on the counter here before you closed the door for the last time. May I?’ He held out a hand.

  She dug into the slashed pinafore’s pocket to retrieve her keys and gave them to him.

  ‘The same lady impersonating you will telephone the rental agent later to say as much. Given they have your rent up-front and it’s not to be vacated for a fortnight, I doubt they’ll be in a hurry to visit. And if they do, you are safe, Katerina. This is an old man you don’t know who died in your flat after breaking in through the fire escape. I’ll leave his trail, please don’t worry.’ He paused. ‘Edward?’

  The solicitor finally moved and Daniel led them both to the doorway so they didn’t have to look upon Ruda Mayek.

  ‘I’ll take her home with me,’ Edward said, putting a proprietorial arm around Katerina’s shoulder.

  ‘Of course.’

  The men shook hands.

  The awkward pause was upon them before she could fill the space.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she admitted to Daniel.

  ‘Kiss me goodbye and walk away. Words are not necessary. We both know all has been said.’

  She knew what he meant. ‘Daniel, when I feel ready to explain, I will write to you at your Paris apartment. I want you to visit me wherever I am.’ She glanced at Edward but he was not looking at her, still no doubt turning over what he’d learned. ‘And I will tell you what you want to hear.’

  ‘I shall be back in Paris in a few weeks. I thought I might visit my family first.’

  She smiled. ‘Cleansing.’

  He gave her a smile in agreement. ‘Before you ask, no, I feel no guilt. I will feel only elation that a monster is no more.’

  She nodded. ‘Me too.’ She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on his mouth, pulling away before he could misinterpret it. ‘I love you, Daniel … you are now officially my best friend, and I’ve never had one of those since childhood.’

  The face that struggled to smile seemed to find the right combination of levers and pulleys to achieve a warm, clearly heartfelt grin that she would have sworn he couldn’t pull off. ‘That will do me, Katerina.’

  Her eyes misted. ‘And there’s another friend I want you to meet. Her name is Catherine. She’s English, pretty, fun, with no painful wartime backstory. She’d be good company for you …’

  He hushed her with a hug. ‘Not yet, but maybe. Take her somewhere safe, Mr Summerbee.’

  She intensified the hug. ‘Thank you for looking after me.’

  They parted and the smiles were sad this time.

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Go make a life. You deserve it.’

  She turned and didn’t look back, although she sensed Daniel had gone inside to watch her and Edward walk down Bury Street until they had turned the corner and left this place and the unpleasantness that was about to unfold there.

  33

  They sat in a frigid silence in the taxi all the way to Harley Street, where Edward introduced her to his doctor, who apparently could see her at short notice. Amazing what money could achieve. His estimation was that no bones had shifted; it was a minor fracture and bruising would likely occur. Nevertheless, she was to be taken to a private hospital of his choice for X-rays. Phone calls were made; the men muttered between them.

  ‘What did you tell him?’ she said on the way to the hospital. It was their first exchange of words since her revelation.

  ‘The truth. A madman hit you.’

  ‘You’re not very good at lying, are you?’

  ‘I’m rubbish at it.’

  ‘I’m excellent at it.’

  He frowned, obviously unsure of what she meant.

  Once in the care of the staff, she suggested that he leave and she would come to his house later.

  ‘Absolutely not. I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

  ‘I know we need to talk.’

  ‘Well, that’s an understatement, but firstly I don’t think I want to talk about today’s events and particularly what I had to listen to, for a while. I need to think on it all. But you need to be looked after in the meantime. You have no one in London, I’m guessing, so let me do that much.’

  She nodded; she didn’t feel like fighting him.

  It was four hours or more before they were back on their way to Kensington.

  ‘Edward, I’m sorry you had to hear what you did.’

  He shook his head. ‘You gave me the option.’

  ‘There’s more to it.’

  ‘Don’t. Not now. What happened happened a very long time ago. It was war. It was life and death every day. What you told him was horrific but I can’t swear that I wouldn’t behave identically given what that man did to you.’

  She left it at that. He wasn’t ready to hear the rest of her story. He might never be, but she was rid of the darkness and for that she could only be grateful.

  ‘I need to get hold of Otto.’

  ‘He’s in a Durham guesthouse apparently but didn’t say why.’

  ‘I know why. I even know which guesthouse.’

  Edward wasn’t curious; he was in shock. Shock at his violence, terror at the execution that was likely already finished in Bloomsbury, and trauma listening to what Katerina had done to a newborn twenty years earlier. He desperately didn’t want to be judgemental. He hadn’t been there; he hadn’t lived through any of her desperate years, he hadn’t been raped or subjected to the cruelties that she had. But a child? A helpless baby? He needed to come to terms with it; either find somewhere in his heart to forgive, or find somewhere to bury it in his mind … or simply to walk away from Katerina Kassowicz.

  That last one seemed the most difficult of all. He wished he could. She seemed to read his mind as he held the door of his home open to her once again. Both dogs this time came clattering across the parquet flooring and then the housekeeper emerged.

  ‘Oh, you have company, Mr Summerbee. I didn’t realise.’ She smiled warmly at Katerina, no doubt used to the comings and goings of women who were strangers, but then she frowned. ‘Oh, my dear, you’re hurt.’

  ‘This is a close friend of mine, Mrs Lawson. Katerina will be staying.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is a guestroom ready?’

  ‘The Shell Room is made up.’

  ‘Lovely. Thank you.’

  ‘There’s food in the oven, Mr Summerbee. Always plenty for two, and I’ve fed the dogs. They’ll need their walk, of course.’

  ‘That’s fine. Why don’t you head off early?’

  ‘Ooh, I won’t say no, sir. My daughter’s down from Harrogate.’

  ‘Off you go. We can manage.’

  ‘I won’t be in tomorrow, sir, don’t forget,’ she reminded him, fetching her coat.

  ‘That’s fine. I shall survive.’ He grinned. ‘Thank you.’

  After the housekeeper had left, he turned and regarded Katerina. They both seemed awkward about what to say.

  ‘You shouldn’t be with me,’ she murmured.

  ‘No, I shouldn’t. But there is something addictive about you, Katerina. I think we both felt it the other evening and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that today has only made me feel more involved in your life.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. I have things to tell you, too, that I’ve discovered since we were last together.’

  ‘Edward?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can we not talk about me, my past, my family, Mayek? I too am still trying to come to terms with what happened today. Just for the rest of today, can we just …’

  She looked at him still so shocked, face bruised, palms turned out in a sort of helpless plea, that he reacted on instinct. The sensible, measured solicitor once more gave way to pure intuition and he hoped the reflex was the right one. ‘Can we just do this?’ h
e wondered, stepping towards her and pulling her close.

  She wept. The tears were mostly silent but they shook her body and his heart, which had felt hardened at hearing her capable of murder, melted. He still couldn’t get to grips with that tragic story; he couldn’t yet discuss it either.

  So he let her cry against him. She was tiny, really. Tall but so slim it felt like he could snap her if he pulled her too hard. Finally, feeling like they were in a movie, he decided to pick her up and carry her upstairs. His chivalrous act only lasted halfway up before he had to stop and lean against the banister. It was the strangest of moments because she seemed to find amusement in the ridiculousness of his failure. She laughed through tears.

  ‘I so wanted to impress you with a Tarzan-like gesture,’ he admitted.

  Her chuckle was a balm. ‘I can walk, you know.’

  ‘You could have said so,’ he accused her, faking an injured tone. ‘I thought you needed rescuing.’ He allowed her to stand.

  They looked at each other on the stairs, too high up to turn back.

  ‘You did rescue me.’

  ‘Come on, let me show you where you can put your head down and sleep for as long as you want, uninterrupted.’

  She let him take her hand and lead her up the stairs. He pointed. ‘My room is just down there. You’re here.’ He opened a door into a bedroom bathed in soft afternoon light. The dying western sunlight created a warm, golden glow against thick striped wallpaper in a custardy yellow. Honey-coloured pine furniture added to a sense of cosiness and the bed was dressed in white with a checked rug of toffee and pale grey.