Kill a Spy: The House of Killers

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘You always have mine too,’ replies Neva.

  They are driving to the Swiss town of Basel where they will part ways again for a while. Janine’s Swiss flat is abandoned. Although this has been her home for the past two years, she isn’t concerned about leaving the few possessions she has behind. She has a holdall containing money, various passports, and a few items she prefers to keep with her.

  ‘I deposited your fee for killing the general,’ Neva says.

  ‘But… I didn’t. You did,’ Janine says.

  ‘Without your seduction, it wouldn’t have been possible,’ Neva says. ‘You did what I needed you to.’

  ‘I wasn’t good enough,’ Janine says. ‘I couldn’t finish him. He was too strong.’

  ‘Your past made you weak. You have the resources and the strength. You need to start believing in yourself. Now he’s dead, nothing will hold you back. You have to use this as a way of divorcing yourself from the past.’

  Janine looks at Neva. How old is she? Twenty-two, like herself? Yet she has so much maturity. Her grandmother would have called her an old soul.

  Janine has never asked Neva how she came to be what she is. Like most spies, they don’t talk about their personal lives. Yet Neva knows so much more about Janine than Janine knows about Neva. Now, Janine is curious about her mentor. What does she do with herself when she isn’t working? Does Neva train daily as Janine does? Does she have a lover? Where does she live most of the time? These and many more questions go through Janine’s mind. None of which she dares to ask.

  They arrive at the Basel SBB train station and Neva gives Janine the keys to the car.

  ‘I’ll see you again soon,’ Neva says.

  She climbs out of the car and walks into the station without looking back.

  On impulse, Janine abandons the car and follows Neva. From a distance she watches her buy a ticket. She’s heading to Paris on the TGV train. Janine is familiar with the route as she’s taken this one herself a few times: three hours and four minutes and she will be in Gare de Lyon, in Paris.

  Janine buys herself a ticket and, hefting her holdall, she follows Neva onto the train.

  This is a direct train with no other stops, for this reason the journey goes fast and Janine doesn’t have to keep her eye on Neva in case she departs before Paris. On the train she remains hidden, several carriages away with the restaurant car between them. She begins to feel excited that Neva hasn’t discovered her on board. It means she’s doing a good job of not being noticed, just as Neva has taught her.

  At Paris, Janine follows Neva onto the Metro. Neva gets off two stops later at Gare du Nord. Now, Janine is certain that Neva is returning to London via the Eurostar. She watches as her mentor buys another ticket and passes through the security checkpoint. Janine waits until the train starts to board before passing through herself. By then she’s changed her clothing, and covered her hair with a hat. She boards the train, finds a seat and slumps down, hat over her eyes for the remainder of the journey. Anyone passing her seat will think she is sleeping.

  In London, Janine picks up Neva’s trail as she crosses the road from St Pancras to King’s Cross. Once again, Neva boards a train. Confident she hasn’t been noticed, Janine stays on her.

  A few hours later Janine sees Neva’s home for the first time.

  Neva lives on a secluded country lane in a small detached cottage in rural Lincolnshire. Knowing she could be observed, Janine passes by the cottage in a stolen car, as Neva turns into her driveway. Once she knows where Neva resides, Janine drives away. She knows better than to push her luck now that her curiosity is satisfied.

  She travels back to the nearest train station, discards the car, and catches a train back to London.

  That night she receives a text from Neva.

  Consider wisely how you use what you learned today.

  Janine stares at the text, not knowing what to reply. Does Neva know that she followed her? What will she do when they next meet?

  Janine sends back a basic message to appear benign.

  Safe travels, wherever that might be.

  The last person she would ever upset is Neva. Not only is Neva capable of killing her without a qualm, but Janine owes her life to her.

  You too, my friend, Neva replies.

  And that is the moment when Janine realizes, she and Neva are friends of a sort. They have shared so much and trust has been a part of this relationship from the beginning. And perhaps this means Janine’s curiosity, if it’s been discovered, is forgiven. At least this is what Janine hopes.

  She tries not to think about it as she turns off the light in her hotel room. Tomorrow she will be out of England again, and finding herself this time a place that Neva doesn’t pay for or know the location of.

  The next morning, when Janine wakes, she finds an envelope of money beside her bed. She jumps up, shocked. It hadn’t been there when she went to bed.

  She searches the room and bathroom but finds she’s alone.

  She listens at the door but there is no sound, so she cracks it open and looks up and down the corridor beyond. Nothing. Silence.

  She closes the door and returns to her bed.

  She picks up the envelope. Opening it she discovers a wad of notes. Euros. She riffles through them: there are around twenty 500-euro notes there. Ten thousand euros. There’s a hand-written note on the back of the envelope.

  Take care, N x

  Janine’s hand trembles as she stows the money in her holdall.

  Neva has been in her room as she slept. She knew where she was all the time.

  She’s not sure what Neva’s message means. Is it a warning? Or a threat?

  What it does confirm is that Neva can find her anytime, anywhere if she wants to. It’s a lesson Janine never forgets.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Hilary

  Present day

  Hilary Gillian runs the curry brush over the thoroughbred stallion’s back, then taps the brush against the stall to clean it. When the dander is removed, she picks up the dandy brush and sweeps it over the horse until the sheen returns to his coat. The horse is irritable this evening, and she’s tied him up in the stall making sure she keeps away from his back end. He’s already slammed his back hooves against the rear of the stall and Hilary is determined he won’t better her. It won’t be the first time a highly strung horse kicked out and it won’t be the last. The trick is to always make sure you aren’t in the way when they do.

  Hilary runs a livery yard near Newmarket and at 35 years old she is making a good name for herself in training race horses. Even so, she still likes to occasionally groom the horses herself, especially the difficult ones like Princely Sun here, who she’s been paid a great deal of money to work with by his owner.

  Hilary finishes grooming the horse and gives him some hay as a reward. She leaves the stall, securing the door with a sturdy bolt before making her way past the other horses out of the stable.

  Outside she glances at her watch. It’s late. But she doesn’t mind. This job has always been a vocation, and something she has dreamed of doing ever since her parents bought her her very first horse when she was just 5 years old.

  Hilary locks up the stable and walks across the yard to the office building. Inside she sees the old-fashioned answerphone flashing to indicate a new message. She presses play as she sits at her desk.

  ‘Hi Hilary. It’s Margot here. I’m in the area so I’d like to swing by and see Princely this evening. I should be there around eight.’

  Hilary deletes the message, and looks at her watch. It’s already 8:15pm and there’s no sign of Margot.

  She dials Margot’s mobile number, but it goes through to voicemail.

  ‘Hi Margot. I’ll be here until 9pm if you’re still around. But I have to go then,’ Hilary says.

  She hangs up just as a car turns into the yard outside. Good.

  Hilary gets up. She’s never met Margot, but she enjoyed receiving the first payment for the horse’
s care. Margot paid as much for one month as some owners pay for six and it was specifically requested that Hilary do all the training, and not one of the lesser employees. Now, Hilary hopes Margot is going to be pleased with the progress of the horse. She is sure that Princely’s coat is gleaming with health at least, even if his temperament still needs to be dampened down a little. But it’s early days and the horse has a long way to go before he’ll be really ready for the race courses he’s destined for.

  Hilary opens the office door. A woman gets out of the car. She’s younger than Hilary expected, around mid-twenties.

  ‘Margot?’ she says.

  Margot’s clipped tones come from the girl’s mouth. ‘Hilary? How is my horse?’

  She leads Margot to the stable, unlocking the door again.

  ‘He’s here. I’ve just settled him for the night. He worked hard today.’

  They walk to the stall and Princely Sun begins to neigh and becomes excited as they approach.

  ‘He recognizes you,’ Hilary says.

  The horse lets Margot stroke his muzzle and is calmer than Hilary has ever seen him as Margot presses her forehead to his.

  ‘He really loves you,’ Hilary says.

  ‘He fears me,’ says Margot. ‘Do you know why I picked you?’

  ‘I thought I’d been recommended. By Sheik Imman,’ Hilary says.

  ‘You were with the sheik and his wife, showing off one of his race horses. That horse has won many races, hasn’t it?’ Margot says.

  ‘Yes,’ Hilary says.

  ‘You look like her,’ Margot says.

  ‘Who?’

  Margot straightens up. ‘I was trying to think of a suitable tableau for you,’ she says. ‘And I realized this was already too magnificent for words.’

  Hilary frowns. Margot is strange and she feels uncomfortable alone with her. She begins to wish she’d kept at least one of the stable hands back that evening.

  ‘Anyway, if you’re happy with Princely’s progress, I need to close up for the night. We start very early in the morning here, and it’s getting late.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Margot says. ‘I should have thought this might be a bad time.’

  Hilary notes how serious Margot is. She’s difficult to read. Perhaps she isn’t happy with her work after all?

  They walk to the stable door. Hilary feels so tired, as though being around Margot is somehow draining all of her energy. Hilary is about to ask her if she’s happy when she sees the knife in her hand. Hilary steps back, her shoulder connects with a bridle hook on the stall behind her. She feels the bruising pain of it, but that is nothing compared to when Margot stabs upwards with her knife.

  There’s a horrible grating feeling as the knife catches Hilary’s rib cage, then plunges into her right lung. Hilary grunts then collapses against Margot, struggling to breathe. Margot pushes her back down onto the stable floor.

  Around them the horses in the stalls, sensitive creatures that they are, begin to panic as Hilary’s fear is conveyed to them. Princely Sun kicks and rears in his stall even as Margot sits astride the mortally wounded Hilary as though she is the jockey and Hilary the horse.

  The knife slashes down as Margot cuts and slices Hilary. Even though the knife shreds her hands and arms, Hilary still tries to ward off the blows. Adrenaline pumps through her ears blocking out the sound of chaos in the stable, even the sound of her own whimpering.

  When she no longer has strength to fight back, Margot’s words run through Hilary’s fading mind… you look like her… before she slips down, sinking in a bloody mass to the concrete floor. Margot continues to slash the knife in a vicious arc across and over Hilary’s torso. In her final moments, Hilary’s mind clings onto the one question raised by Margot’s insane declaration: Who?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Beth

  It takes an hour and forty-five minutes for Beth’s security detail to drive her to the crime scene. By then, the local police have cordoned off the stables and are keeping all the employees in the small office until she can interview them.

  After pulling on a crime-scene suit, Beth enters the stable. The horses are still in their stalls, cooped up to avoid any contamination until the forensics team do their work. The first thing Beth notices is the smell of hay and manure.

  She sees Elliot at the far end of the stable. He’s snapping photographs for future reference as he looks into the stall at the end. Beth’s eyes scan the scene, she sees a severed finger next to a yellow marker to the right of the stable. Several other markers indicate other unrecognizable lumps of gore.

  ‘Is it okay for me to come through?’ she calls to Elliot.

  He stops taking the pictures and looks at her.

  ‘Stay left,’ he says.

  Beth hurries to his side. Then turns and looks directly into the stall: Hilary Gillian is not a pretty sight.

  Beth feels the bile rising in the back of her throat.

  Empty eye sockets.

  Multiple stab wounds.

  Blood.

  The woman had been eviscerated too. It is almost an attempt to recreate a Jack the Ripper-style murder, but more horrific and less restrained than the Ripper had been known for.

  ‘First blow happened at the stable door,’ Elliot says. ‘There’s blood spatter that looks as though our perp struck upwards with an incapacitation blow. Then, she was attacked as she fell. Finally, she was dragged in here, dead or dying. Then laid out, like this. I think that’s when the disembowelling happened and… the eyes.’ Elliot swallows. He is usually composed but Beth can tell that this one has him rattled.

  ‘My god. Is that barbed wire?’ Beth says. ‘She’s tangled in it.’

  ‘Razor wire. Dangerous stuff,’ Elliot says.

  Trying to divorce herself from the terrible sight by using her analytical training, Beth looks around the stall. There’s a saddle resting over the partition between this stall and the next. Beth notes the victim’s removed eyes sitting on top, facing the stall door as though watching them. It’s the last straw. Beth gags, turns and runs. She makes it outside the stable and yanks off her mask, throwing up the McDonald’s drive-through breakfast that the security detail had given her for the journey.

  With her stomach empty, Beth takes a few minutes to breathe, before putting the mask back on. Then she returns inside.

  ‘Sorry,’ she says.

  ‘No need to apologize. I did the same,’ he says. ‘This is the vilest thing I’ve ever seen.’

  Beth leaves him to work while she goes away. Across the yard she sees a wooden-hut office. Inside is a girl and two boys.

  Beth introduces herself to them.

  ‘Which of you found her?’ she asks.

  ‘I did,’ says the girl. ‘I arrived first. Found the office open and the door to the stable was open. I assumed Hilary was inside so I went looking for her.’

  Beth observes how green around the gills the poor kid looks. There’ll be many nightmares before she gets over the trauma of what she’s seen.

  ‘What’s your name?’ she asks.

  ‘Gemma White.’

  Beth takes the names, addresses and details of the other stable hands. The two boys are Ritchie Campbell and Jonathan Deacon.

  ‘Who was the last to leave last night?’

  ‘I think I was,’ says Ritchie. ‘Around 7:30pm. She’d just tied up Princely and was about to groom him.’

  Beth nods. ‘Any of you know if she was expecting anyone last night?’ Beth asks.

  All three shake their heads.

  ‘We need to let the horses out,’ Gemma says. ‘They are really distressed and they need mucking out.’

  ‘You won’t be allowed to do that for a while I’m afraid,’ Beth says.

  She sends the three of them outside for some fresh air while she looks around Hilary’s office. There’s a desk with a computer and telephone. A kettle and toaster sit on top of a small fridge and a filing cabinet by the door. On the walls are several framed pictures of a woman wit
h different horses. One of which appears to be a magazine cutting. Beth reads the article and learns that this is Hilary with a sheik’s racing horse. She takes the picture off the wall and looks closely at it. In the other photos it’s hard to tell that Hilary has strawberry-blonde hair, but not in this one. Although she’s in riding gear, she isn’t wearing a hat and her hair looks as though it’s been perfectly groomed for the photograph. She’s pretty. She also looks a lot like the other murder victims.

  Beth goes outside, taking the picture with her. She sees Gemma leaning on the paddock fence.

  ‘Where was this taken?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh that was for Hello Magazine,’ Gemma says. ‘Sheik Imman and his wife at home. Hilary was asked to be part of the shoot. She said the Sheik was so pleased with how she’d trained his horse, he wanted to give the livery a boost.’

  ‘Do you know where this was? The actual stable and yard?’ Beth asks.

  ‘The Grand National,’ says Gemma. ‘Last month.’

  Beth looks back at the framed article. It says quite clearly where Hilary’s livery yard is and under normal circumstances this would be a good advertisement. But Beth thinks in this case that possibly a bit of widely spread publicity could well have been the death of her.

  Beth turns back to the office.

  ‘She did get a new horse to train because of that,’ says Gemma. ‘Princely Sun.’

  Beth stops and turns back. ‘Is it in the stable?’

  Gemma frowns, ‘It should be. Stall four.’

  Beth goes back to the stables. She’s reluctant to go inside but pushes herself forward.

  She reaches the fourth stall and looks inside. It’s empty. She checks the horses in the other three and other than being slightly distressed, the animals look fine.

  ‘Beth?’ says Elliot.

  ‘One of them’s missing,’ she says. ‘A race horse called Princely Sun.’

  Elliot frowns. ‘Maybe this is about horse theft?’

  ‘No,’ Beth shakes her head.