The birthday girl

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The birthday girl Page 30

by Stephen Leather


  An old woman bent over the steering wheel of a Cadillac was dawdling down the middle of the road and Katherine accelerated and drove by, missing the car by inches. She almost didn't see the school bus turning in front of her and she jammed her brakes on, hard. Instinctively she reached over with her right arm as if holding back a child in the passenger seat. She realised what she'd done and closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. 'Damn you, Tony,' she said to herself. The Cadillac pulled up behind her and the old woman sounded her horn impatiently. Katherine took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. She searched through the radio stations until among the mindless rap and rock music she found one playing classical music, and she kept to the speed limit all the way to the White Marsh shopping mall.

  She had telephoned earlier to make sure that the photographs of Mersiha were ready to be collected. As soon as she walked into the store Tanya beamed and held up a large manila envelope. 'Mrs Freeman, these are just terrific,' she said.

  Katherine opened the envelope and slid out the glossy colour photographs. She looked at them one by one. Tanya was right, they were excellent. The face that looked back was Mersiha, but not the Mersiha that she'd just dropped off at the airport. The girl in the photographs was absolutely stunning. It was a face that could easily have graced the cover of Vogue or Vanity Fair, the face of a professional model. It wasn't just the make-up or the hair, or the way she'd been posed, it was the look in her eyes, the confident, measured stare of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from life. 'She looks older, doesn't she?' Tanya said.

  'She doesn't look like a fifteen-year-old.'

  'Sixteen,' Katherine corrected. 'But you're right, she looks like she's nineteen. Twenty, maybe.'

  'We're all talking about the pictures, about how good they are,' Tanya said. 'In fact, Ted wants to talk to you about them.

  I'll get him.'

  Katherine put the photographs back in the envelope while Tanya went to fetch Ted. He came out of the studio, the same goofy grin on his bearded face that he'd been wearing the last time she'd seen him. Like Tanya, he was dressed all in black: jeans, t-shirt and linen jacket. The only touch of colour was the bright red wristband of his Mickey Mouse watch. 'Aren't they awesome?' he said.

  'They're wonderful, yes. You've done a great job.'

  Ted waved away the compliment. 'It's nothing to do with me, Mrs Freeman. Your daughter has a way with the camera. There's something in here that shines through the lens. Have you got time for a coffee?'

  The change of subject caught Katherine by surprise. 'Excuse me?' she said.

  'Coffee. I'd like a chat, and I thought…'

  'Sure, coffee would be fine.' They walked together to the food court and Katherine found a table while the photographer ordered two coffees and carried them over.

  'I wanted to ask if you and Mersiha had given any thought to what I said before?'

  'About modelling? We haven't really discussed it.'

  'You should.' He tapped the manila envelope in front of her.

  'I could place those with any of the top magazines. Any of them.

  She's cover material.'

  'She's a sixteen-year-old girl,' Katherine said.

  'That's not unusual these days. There are lots of teenage girls making a good living from modelling. Do you know how much a girl like Mersiha could make in a year?' Katherine shook her head. It wasn't something she'd ever thought about, though she knew that runway models were highly over-paid for doing little other than wearing other people's clothes. 'A quarter of a million dollars, easily. And if she picks up a cosmetics contract you could triple that figure.' {Catherine sat back in her chair and ran her finger around the lip of her cup. 'Wow,' she said.

  'Wow is right. A couple of years of modelling at that level and she'd be able to pay for her own college education. She'd be set up for life.'

  'But what about the sort of people she'll come in contact with?

  She's only a child.'

  'People like me, you mean?'

  'No, of course not. But you hear stories. You know you do.

  Girls with stars in their eyes, ending up working the streets.'

  'Not girls like Mersiha. She'll be with one of the best agencies in Manhattan. She'll be chaperoned everywhere, she'll work with only the best photographers, the best designers. She'll be protected, believe me.'

  'I'll talk to her, see how she feels.'

  'I wish you would. It's not often you come across a talent like hers. It's a gift.' He picked up his spoon and rubbed it with his fingers. 'I can see where she gets it from.'

  Katherine tilted her head, wondering if he was about to make a pass at her. 'Gets what from?' she asked.

  'Her looks.' He smiled, and Katherine noticed for the first time how white his teeth were.

  'My looks?'

  'Sure. She really takes after you. The same eyes. Great skin.'

  'Ted, before you shove your foot any further into your mouth, I ought to tell you that Mersiha's adopted.'

  Ted didn't appear to be fazed by the revelation. 'You're a very beautiful woman, you don't need me to tell you that,' he said.

  'I hope you're not suggesting that I consider a modelling career, Ted. I'm a bit too old to fall for that line.'

  'I'd love to photograph you.'

  Katherine studied his face. He was good-looking under the beard, she decided. The facial hair wasn't there to disguise bad skin or a weak chin. And he had a ballet dancer's body, lean and tight, not an ounce of fat to be seen. 'You would, would you?'

  'Uh-huh. I'd jump at the chance.'

  'How's your mother? You live with her, don't you?'

  Ted nodded and stirred his coffee. 'She's as well as can be expected. She's had heart problems for the last five years. She's too old for a transplant, she's just got to take it easy.'

  'What about your father?'

  Ted shrugged. 'He died when I was in my teens. She never remarried.'

  'It was nice of you to move back to stay with her. I'd have thought New York was the best place for a photographer to be.

  It can't be much fun for you in Baltimore.'

  'How did you know that? That I'd moved from New York?'

  Katherine smiled and raised one eyebrow. 'Tanya told me.'

  'Ah. The lovely Tanya.'

  'She's your type, is she?'

  Ted put his spoon down. 'No, she's not my type.' He held her look for several seconds.

  'Am I your type?' Katherine asked, invitingly. Ted said nothing, but his smile answered her question. She leaned forward and put a hand on his wrist. 'I know a motel that's not far from here,' she said. Ted looked at his watch. Katherine raised her eyebrow again. 'This is a once-only offer, Ted. You just happen to have caught me on a bad day, so don't you dare tell me you're busy.'

  Ted grinned. 'I'm not busy,' he said.

  Katherine stood up. 'My car's outside,' she said. Ted walked half a pace behind her as she headed for the parking lot.

  Freeman heard the answering machine kick in and his own voice tell him that he wasn't able to get to the phone. He winked at Mersiha before leaving his message. 'Hiya, Kat, just to let you know that we got to Denver okay. We're going to pick up the car and drive to Estes Park. I'm not sure how long it'll take. Take care, I love you.'

  He handed the phone to Mersiha. 'Hi. Don't worry, I'm taking care of Dad. Hope you're okay. Bye.' Mersiha replaced the receiver. 'She's probably shopping,' she said.

  'What's the betting that we go back to find another twenty pairs of shoes?'

  'Even money,' Mersiha grinned. 'You should have taken the credit cards off her.'

  Freeman laughed and gently punched her shoulder. 'Okay, let's go get our Bronco.'

  'Can I get a newspaper?'

  'Sure. There's a kiosk over there.'

  He waited while Mersiha ran over and looked at the rack of papers. She came back, empty-handed. 'I wanted a Baltimore paper,' she explained.

  'In Denver?'

  'Yeah, I didn't think.'


  'They might have the Washington Post.''

  'No, I looked.'

  'What is this? Are you homesick already?'

  'No, I just wanted something to read, that's all. Come on, I hear our Bronco calling.'

  Ted put his hands behind his head and watched Katherine slip into her dress. 'I feel used,' he said, only half joking.

  'You'll get over it,' she said. She sat down on the bed, her back to him. 'Can you zip me up?'

  Ted did as she asked, then he lay down again. 'No, I mean it.

  I really feel like you've just used me.'

  Katherine turned and kissed him on the forehead. 'I think we used each other,' she chided. 'Stop complaining.'

  'Oh, I'm not complaining, I'm just stating a fact.' He stretched his hands up above his head and arched his back. 'Can we do this again?'

  Katherine laughed. 'What, now?'

  Ted laughed with her. 'No, not now. I think I'm going to beweek, maybe?'

  Katherine sat in front of the dressing-table mirror and carefully applied lipstick. 'I don't think so, Ted.'

  'God, what is it with you?' He sighed with exasperation. 'We just made love, and now you tell me you don't want to see me again.'

  Katherine pointed her finger at him in the mirror. 'We didn't make love, we had sex. You shouldn't confuse the two.'

  'But…'

  'No buts,' she said. 'I wanted you, you wanted me, we had a great couple of hours…'

  'Three,' Ted corrected.

  Katherine laughed despite herself. 'Whatever.'

  'Do you do this a lot?'

  'Not a lot, no.'

  'But you've been unfaithful before?'

  'What is this, Ted? Twenty questions? Don't make me start to regret the time we spent together.' She stood up and smoothed down her dress. 'How do I look?'

  'Good enough to eat,' he said.

  'That's nice to hear.' She sat down on the bed again and stroked his chest. 'I don't consider what we did being unfaithful.'

  'Semantics.'

  'Maybe. But I do love my husband. And I'd never leave him.'

  'But why…?' He was lost for words.

  'Why would I go to bed with you, a complete stranger?' Ted nodded. Katherine shrugged. 'I don't know.' Her hand strayed down his body and slipped under the covers.

  'You do like me, don't you?'

  Katherine frowned. 'That's a strange thing to ask.'

  'But you do?'

  She thought about it for a few seconds as her hand caressed the soft hair that grew on his stomach. 'I don't really know you, so I can't say if I like you or not.'

  'You're brutally honest.'

  'I supose I am.'

  Ted could feel himself growing hard as she toyed with him.

  'You're a predator, Katherine Freeman.'

  She smiled. 'What makes you say that?'

  'You sought me out, brought me down, and now you're leaving my bones to bleach in the sun.'

  She tightened her grip on him. 'This is the only bone I can feel,' she said slyly. Ted gasped. She slackened her grip but continued to hold him.

  'So why? Why do you do it?' Katherine didn't answer, though she kept looking at him as she began to move her hand faster.

  'Is it to get back at your husband?'

  The hand stopped abruptly. 'What do you mean?'

  'I don't know. I thought maybe he'd had an affair or something.'

  'No.

  Tony's never been unfaithful.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I just know.'

  'So what did he do to hurt you?' Katherine's eyes went suddenly cold and she slid her hand out from under the covers.

  'Hey, don't stop,' he said plaintively.

  'I have to go.' She stood up and picked up her handbag.

  'Hey, I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing. Come back to bed.'

  Katherine shook her head. 'You spoiled the moment,' she said.

  'I'm sorry. Give me another chance.'

  'I don't think so. I've got to go.' She opened the door but didn't look at him again, leaving him lying on the bed, his erection rapidly subsiding, wondering exactly what it was that he'd done wrong.

  Utsyev and his men moved into Sabatino's house in west Baltimore to wait for Vincenti's police contact to identify the owner of the Heckler amp; Koch. Bzuchar Utsyev hated waiting. Hated it with a vengeance. He spent most of the day pacing up and down and making everybody's life a misery. The fridge-freezer was packed with food and Kiseleva had fried steak and eggs for them. There was a football game on television and Utsyev's men watched it while they waited. They opened a case of Budweiser but drank it sparingly, knowing that they might have to move out at any moment.

  From time to time Kiseleva or Vincenti would ask Utsyev if there was anything he wanted, but he would just shake his head.

  There was only one thing he wanted and that was the name of the bitch who'd killed his brother. And for that he had to wait.

  Vincenti had called his contact and given him the gun's serial number, but there had been no indication of how long they'd have to wait for an answer. That was what made it worse, Utsyev realised, the fact that he didn't know how long he'd have to bide his time. Eventually Utsyev got tired of pacing and sat sprawled in an overstuffed armchair and drank his way through another bottle of bourbon as the sun set.

  Early in the evening, Vincenti cooked pasta and seafood but Utsyev didn't feel like eating. He went upstairs to sleep in his brother's bedroom. The bed was huge and covered with what appeared to be a real fur bedspread that must have taken the lives of several rare and exotic animals. He threw his clothes on to a chair and fell on to the bed. The bourbon had helped dull the pain that had built up inside him, but the anger still burned deep. He wanted to hurt his brother's killer more than he'd ever wanted to hurt anything in his life. He'd pour drain cleaner down the bitch's throat, he'd shove forks into her eyes, he'd tear her limb from limb and eat her liver raw. She'd die like no one had ever died before. Utsyev's whole body tensed and his face contorted with hatred. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at his own reflection. The ceiling above the bed was mirrored. For a moment Utsyev was shocked at his own image, his skull-like face creased and haggard from two days without sleep, his hands clenched into fists, his mouth open in a grimace. Then he suddenly burst out laughing. It was just like Gilani to have a mirrored ceiling. He laughed louder, the sound becoming more ragged and disjointed, until he was cackling like an old crone and tears were streaming down his hollowed cheeks.

  Katherine sat down at the dining-room table and looked through the photographs of Mersiha. Ted was right, there was something almost magical about them, something that set her apart from most of the girls her age. She wondered how Tony would react to the suggestion that Mersiha should take up modelling. He'd be proud of her, of that she was certain, but he'd want her to continue at school. His phone message hadn't said if he'd call back later that night, and he hadn't mentioned anything about a portable phone, so she guessed that he was still uncontactable.

  Anyway, there was no rush. Ted's offer didn't have a time limit.

  She could discuss it with Tony and Mersiha when they got back from Colorado.

  She sat back in the chair and took another mouthful of her brandy and Coke as she reflected on her afternoon with the photographer. He'd been a good lover, considerate and enthusiastic, but she'd meant what she'd said about it being a one-off opportunity. She just hoped that he'd be able to keep business separate from pleasure. Men could be quite pathetic at times, once they started to think with their sexual equipment rather than their brains. Katherine smiled to herself. She could handle Ted.

  Freeman followed Route 36 as it twisted and turned through the Roosevelt National Forest. The woods were starkly beautiful with towering pines and bleak rocks that stood bare against the powder-blue sky. On the higher peaks he could see snow, though it actually felt warmer than Baltimore. 'It's beautiful, isn't it?' he said to Mersiha.

  His daughter hadn't
spoken for the last ten miles. She'd been staring out of the window at the hills. He had turned die radio off once diey'd started driving dirough die forest – it had seemed somehow sacrilegious to defile it with man-made music. 'It's like home,' she said quietly, and Freeman knew that she didn't mean Maryland.

  The scenery was strikingly similar to the area around Sarajevo.

  It made Freeman realise how thin the line was between war and peace. Yugoslavia must have been like this once – a quiet, peaceful place where tourists could drive around in rented cars without a care in the world. How quickly that had changed, from an Eastern bloc tourist resort to a country where neighbour murdered neighbour and where the hills echoed to the sound of heavy artillery and sniper fire. He reached across and patted Mersiha's leg. 'Do you miss it?' he asked.

  Mersiha shrugged. 'I miss my family. I don't miss the place.

  There are too many bad memories. I don't ever want to go back there. It's tainted.'

  It was a good word, Freeman thought. Tainted. Death could do that to a place. He could never drive along the road where Luke had died without reliving the horror of it, without seeing the truck wheels crush the life out of his son. He shuddered.

  'Are you cold?' Mersiha asked, reaching for the heating controls.

  'I'm okay.'

  'You shivered.'

  'I'm okay. We should be arriving at Estes Park any moment.'

  Mersiha looked at the map on her lap. 'Yeah, you're right.

  Assuming we're heading north.' She grinned. 'We are heading north, right?'

  'We could check the trees to make sure.'

  'The trees?'

  'Sure. Old Boy Scout trick. Moss only grows on the south side of trees. Or west. I can never remember which.'

 

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