We reached the top and crossed an immense landing, our footsteps loud and ringing in the empty space. Simone let go and darted from one room to another, me trailing along behind. Her mood had changed from one of reserve to exuberance. Eager to give the impression of a woman planning how to restore the house to its former splendour, how she’d arrange the furnishings, choose the colour scheme, she gave it maximum effort. I actually believed she was enjoying herself. Not me – I wanted to get it over with.
‘Come and see,’ she called. I crossed the floor, staking her every move, her hands clasped together, the way she looked out across the grounds with its walled gardens and pergolas, how her eyes narrowed at the vista of trees and fields visible in the distance. ‘It’s so terribly English.’ She turned to me, her face a picture of little girl excitement.
A flash of hesitation, a moment of doubt, and it came at a price.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
We drew simultaneously. Crack and flare. Her gun had been strapped to her thigh. My shot nicked the top of her left arm, a flesh wound. Hers hit my gun hand, removing the top of my little finger in one clean swipe. I wouldn’t bleed out but, with my gun dead on the floor, I was out of action.
‘Kick it away.’ Her cold-as-night eyes glittered with triumph and hatred. They reminded me of Billy. I got it then. It all locked into place. I did as she ordered.
‘Take your jacket off – slowly.’
I peeled it off with difficulty. Rivers of pain coursed through my damaged hand, which I clutched tight to my chest, holding it upright, attempting to staunch the flow of blood.
‘Throw it to me.’
I complied.
‘You have no reason to smile,’ she said.
‘I always smile when I learn the truth.’
A picture of swollen pride and arrogance, she viewed me with contempt. ‘You think yourself so clever, so superior, the great untouchable Hex, the man who oozes menace.’
‘Is that what your father told you?’
‘I wish he could see you now.’
‘You disappoint me. A daddy’s girl at your age is pretty sad.’
She let off another shot. It parted the hair on my head and grazed the top of my scalp. Heat fled over me and warm blood trickled down the back of my neck. She was about to take me apart bit by painful bit. She held a Sig-Sauer P228, favoured by the US intelligence agencies, and she’d fired twice. She had eleven shots left.
‘You made him suffer and now it’s your turn.’
‘Suffer? What about the thousands of innocent people he wanted to annihilate?’
Simone wasn’t in listening mode. I doubt she ever was. ‘You hounded him for months. He never slept in the same bed more than two nights. You turned his friends against him, everyone he’d ever known. You took everything from him, his family, his reputation –’
‘Spare me. This is the monster who personally squeezed a guy’s brains from his head because he didn’t like the way the man looked at him.’
‘To stay on top, you have to be strong. My father was a great man.’
‘He really did a number on you, didn’t he? Did you take lessons in manipulation from your daddy too?’
Pain flashed, white hot, and shot through the outside edge of my left thigh. Blood bloomed and spread across my jeans in a relentless flow. I gripped the wound tight with my good hand. I wanted to yowl. My heart rate stuttered. Adrenalin flooded my system. I hoped she read in my eyes what I really thought of her, that she was an unhinged, murderous and self-indulgent bitch.
‘You’re the same as the rest,’ she said, cool as chilled plasma. ‘I’m going to hunt you down and make you scream until you beg me to put a bullet in your brain, isn’t that what you said?’ she jeered. ‘Now look at you, an amateur. Hayes thought he could outsmart me and Benz was a deluded fool.’
‘You killed Hayes, Phipps, Dwyer and Testa and handed McCallen to Benz?’
She nodded. ‘A gift based on mutual self-interest.’
Billy had once told me that he was Jewish. I wondered whether Benz the anti-Semite ever knew that he was doing business with a Jewess.
‘What about Pallenberg?’
‘Again, it suited Dieter and it suited me. Pallenberg was McCallen’s asset and lover.’ As she said it, her eyes drilled into mine. ‘Lovers make good bait, don’t you think?’
‘And you acted together with Benz?’
‘For as long as it suited.’
‘Our escape must have upset your plans.’
‘An irritation, nothing more, as you can see.’
Whose idea was it to lock the door to the cellar in the hope that we’d drown?
‘You can die thinking about it.’
‘I have no intention of giving you that pleasure.’
Her mouth worked into an approximation of a smile. ‘Have you any idea the number of times I could have taken you? It was me who pulled the light trick in Montpellier, me who took a pot shot at you in Berlin. I know where you live. I know who you see.’
‘Then why didn’t you kill me?’
‘The clue is in the name.’
‘Bagatelle,’ I said. ‘You play games.’
Her smile was almost proud, as if she admired my electric thinking. ‘It’s what I do. When and how you die will be when I decide, when I choose.’
Looked like she was close to making that decision. ‘You can’t win. You know that, don’t you?’
She tossed back her hair. ‘I’ve lost count of the times people say such things – always when their situation is hopeless.’
I did my best to shrug. Pain route-marched through my leg and out through my toes, every nerve ending raw and exposed. Time to change tack. I let out a low moan, vocalised the excruciating pain I was in. I had no need to act it up. ‘McCallen and the combined forces of the security services will come for you.’
‘Over one dead hit man?’
She might be right. With me dead, it would be easy to pin everything on me. Flynn was halfway there, the film he had scripted already in the can. I shook my head. ‘McCallen is persistent,’ I gasped. ‘You should know that. She won’t give up, not after what Benz did to her. She knows where you are. She’ll find you.’
Simone pulled a little girl face. Her mouth formed a grotesque pout. ‘But McCallen isn’t here now. It’s simply you and me, my love.’
‘Chemistry like ours is hard to find, is it not?’
‘True, I’ve never had a woman like you.’
‘I admit we’re good together, you and I.’ The accompanying smile was slow and seductive.
‘We could work things out, Simone. You and me, think about it.’
Silence crawled into the space between us. Her face was a blank canvas, unreadable, her brain tuned out. For a moment I thought I had her. Suddenly, her lips twisted and out of her mouth burst a series of full-throttled French obscenities. Finally, she swore in my native tongue.
‘Fuck you. How do you think that would honour my father?’
I would not have put Billy Squeeze and honour in the same sentence, but my opinion was of little interest to her now. The light in her eyes had died as if it had gone out inside. She was getting into the zone, her finger dancing on the trigger. I turned side-on. I didn’t feel like humouring her any more.
‘How did a nice girl like you become an assassin? Is it a recent career move or have you always dabbled in the dark arts?’
‘I’m a quick learner, yes?’
‘Exceptional.’ Blood oozed through my fingers.
‘I modelled myself on the very best.’
‘That would be me,’ I said, no smile.
‘Was you.’ For a second I thought I read pity in her expression. ‘My father held you in high regard. He studied your methods, did you know that?’
In effect, I’d created a ghoul by proxy. Exhaustion swept over me. Maybe shock would get to me quicker than blood loss.
‘You didn’t really understand him at all,’ she said, wistfully. ‘I spoke the truth about
my adoptive parents. I also spoke the truth about my mother.’
‘Justine?’
Her dark eyes hardened. ‘Yes.’
‘But that would mean –’
‘They were both my parents.’
‘And your father loved you.’
‘Like I always knew he would, as a father should love his daughter. When he found out what my mother had done, that she had given me away, he came to me even after all those years and made provision for me.’
‘The house,’ I said.
She nodded.
‘And he turned to you when he was in trouble?’
‘Where else could he go? Together, we worked out a plan, in case things should not work out.’
Hence the fancy financial arrangements. ‘Does anyone else know about this?’
‘Nobody but you.’ Stunned by the disclosure of a long-held secret, a shutdown expression entered her face.
With this moment of dark revelation between us, the dynamics shifted. At the same time, the sound of skidding tyres on gravel rebounded through the room. Simone glanced towards the window. It was the moment I’d been hoping for.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Time slowed.
I lunged forward and powered hard into Simone amid shouts and gunfire. Her gun hand flew up as I connected. Metal stitched the ceiling, kicking up a sandstorm of plaster. Dust and debris half-blinded us. We both hurtled towards the window.
Fearing the drop, I dug in my heels, slowing my flight, while Simone barrelled forward. It was as if some higher force had grabbed my shoulder, fingers digging deep, and wrenched me backwards. I watched as her eyes popped wide on impact, her scream ear-shattering over the sound of breaking glass and splintering rotten wood. The drop had to be at least thirty feet onto paved stone and her car below.
I, meanwhile, lay flat on my back, choking and spluttering, and barely registered as the door exploded from its hinges. There were footsteps on bare wood and then McCallen’s eyes stared down at me.
‘I’ve never been more pleased to see you.’ I meant it.
‘Don’t get any funny ideas. This isn’t going to turn into one of those parties you enjoy so much.’ She peeled off her jacket and shirt, ripped off the sleeves and, with two strips, wrapped one tight around my leg and bandaged my hand. It was the most I’d ever seen of her in the flesh.
‘How did you know I’d be here?’
‘Symmetry,’ she said, putting her leather back on. ‘It’s the seat of Billy’s lost empire, where it all began.’
‘Is Simone dead?’
McCallen cocked an eyebrow. ‘Want me to check?’
‘Yes.’
She sprang up and crossed to the shattered window, hanging back, looking down. ‘Put it this way, her car has an extra spoiler.’
I thought about it. ‘Does it count?’
McCallen frowned. ‘Does what count?’
‘That I killed her?’
‘You didn’t. She did that all on her own.’
‘Artistic licence, surely?’
McCallen shrugged. ‘No point stressing. You did what you had to do. End of. Not like you to be introspective.’
She propped me up, rang for an ambulance and called Flynn to give him a status report. From what I could make out, I was to be debriefed. I shook my head at McCallen who put the flat of her hand up to silence me. Very authoritative, I thought.
‘It’s procedure,’ she assured me when she got off the phone. ‘First off, you need medical attention.’ She eyed the bandage. ‘Is that your trigger hand?’
‘I’ve lost the top of my little finger, not that it matters.’
‘Of course it matters.’
She gave me a typical McCallen look, as though she had no idea what to do with me. I thought I caught a hint of something else, as though she had plans that I didn’t yet know about.
‘How come you’ve bounced back so quickly?’ I was genuinely intrigued.
‘Revenge,’ she said, her green eyes cool and luminous.
* * *
Justine Franke’s call came through when I was semi-conscious after theatre. After an initial awkward exchange, I gave her the main headlines and delivered the bad news about her eldest daughter. The line went quiet.
‘Hello, Justine?’
‘I said no good would come of it.’
‘Of Simone?’
Another silence. ‘I’m not proud of what I did, but I was only a kid. My parents acted in what they believed were my best interests. They hoped it would kill any relationship with Billy. They’d never liked him. In the end, I defied them and they cut me off.’
‘So what happened later? Did Simone track you down?’
‘She was only ever interested in Billy. I was the wicked mother who’d abandoned her.’
‘It must have caused a few problems for your marriage.’
‘It was nothing compared to what happened later.’
‘I’m no lawyer, but you might now have a case to get your home back as the charity has been revealed as bogus. Are all the debts cleared?’
‘Can anyone clear a debt for multiple murder?’
It struck home and she was right. We talked some more and, depressed and eager to get off the line, I was relieved when she wrapped up the call.
Against doctor’s orders, I discharged myself two days later. I had ten stitches in my thigh and I’d undergone surgery on my hand. With most of my fingers and thumb intact, I could function in every respect. The wound to my leg wasn’t as bad as it might have been. A few centimetres further across and it would have been a different story. Simone playing a harp and me accompanying her with spoons.
McCallen came to collect me in her souped-up Mini. I detected that it was for no other reason than she wanted something. Some things never changed. From several kilometres, I’d recognise that look in her eye, a combination of ambition and determination. When she told me we were taking a detour I knew exactly what to expect.
She drove me to a hotel out of town, the name of which I was sworn never to mention. Opulent, elegant and classy, the place oozed with calm grandeur and serenity. It was a good call, although peace was something that continued to elude me.
McCallen showed me to a private room tucked away from the main building. Decked out like a mini conference suite, it had a highly polished walnut table and six chairs, including one at each end. The colour scheme was deep red, rust and vermillion. To my eyes, it looked like several different shades of blood: old, dried and fresh.
My welcoming party consisted of Flynn; nobody else. Affable and friendly, he went to give me a firm handshake and I offered my left hand. He indicated a silver tray with cut-glass decanters, ice and glasses, asked me what I’d care to drink. I chose whisky. The softening-up approach was so blatant it made me wonder what the hell they were going to say and what leverage would be used if I refused to cooperate. Maybe they were going to throw me to the tender mercies of Mossad after all.
After handing me a glass, he invited me to sit down. We all did. Flynn at one end, McCallen opposite me. I was the only one drinking.
‘How’s the leg?’ he said, solicitous.
‘It will heal.’
‘And the hand?’
‘It works.’
‘I’ve read McCallen’s full report. All right if I touch on a couple of minor issues with you?’
‘Feel free.’ I tipped the glass to my lips and took a drink and listened.
The issues were so minor they weren’t worth the airtime. Having clarified things that were already so transparent you could see through them, Flynn sat back and smiled. I smiled back and glanced across at McCallen.
‘If that’s it, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.’ I might as well have been talking to the painting on the wall. They went into collective lockdown.
‘This is your second outing with us, isn’t it?’ Flynn said.
‘I wouldn’t put it like that.’
‘How would you put it
?’
I glared at McCallen, who smiled. ‘Our paths crossed, nothing more. You do what you have to do. I did what I had to do. End of.’ The smile vanished.
‘You have unusual skills,’ Flynn said.
‘Which I no longer choose to use.’
‘Pity.’
I took another swallow of booze. ‘Do the British public know that the security service outsources work to known assassins?’
‘That’s a little crude, surely?’
‘Is it? In any case, I thought you had your own wet ops team.’
McCallen cleared her throat. ‘I think what Flynn means is that we’d appreciate calling upon you for certain specialist assignments.’
‘I wouldn’t get clearance.’
‘Not in an official capacity,’ Flynn said with delicacy.
I got it. ‘In which case I’d be deniable and expendable.’
To his credit, Flynn made no attempt to dispute my claim or put me at ease. ‘You have my personal guarantee that you’d be paid extremely well.’
‘I’m not interested in money.’
‘What are you interested in?’
‘Self-respect. Doing the right thing. Getting up in the morning and being able to look in the mirror without flinching, knowing that I’m going to do an honest day’s work that doesn’t involve killing someone.’ I sounded as agitated as I felt. Justine’s simple question, ‘Can anyone clear a debt for multiple murder?’ had rattled me. I might never be eligible for redemption but if these people undermined my desire to live a better life, I was screwed.
‘Is that your final word?’
‘It is.’
Flynn got up and stuck out his hand again. I stood and shook, and McCallen, tight-faced, escorted me out. I could tell she was fuming because she didn’t look at me, didn’t speak. Every traffic light against us, a proliferation of road works and potholes in the tarmac, the mildly uncomfortable drive back took longer than it should have.
‘Stop the car,’ I said as we hit town. ‘You can drop me here.’
McCallen pulled over and slammed on the brakes. I jerked forward. ‘Fuck, that hurt,’ I growled.
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