Cut to the Bone
Page 35
Epilogue
The wind was cold, blowing into his face, so he pulled his hood up and crossed his arms. Since leaving hospital, he had noticed the weather play havoc with his body more. He felt tired and frail on some days, light-headed on most. Night sweats, nightmares, uncontrolled shaking. Panic attacks.
He was back on the green pills.
He looked up as two joggers went by, laughing as they did. Were they laughing at him? He hadn’t shaved in weeks, and was dressed in dark colours. He looked like a rough sleeper, he knew.
Why Kate had chosen to meet in St James’s Park rather than the office – that irritated his paranoia further. She was making it obvious. There was no way back for him, she didn’t even want him in the building, let alone back on her team.
He pulled his phone out, to see if she had texted to cancel. There was nothing. From anyone. His parents usually messaged once a day, but that only made it worse. Zain didn’t realise how alone he was, how much he had cut himself off, chasing a career that kept biting him back, until his discharge from hospital.
And in that loneliness, he felt as though he had nothing left. Unless he found something worth waking up for soon, what was the point in any of it?
A swan glided across the river, heading towards Buckingham Palace, as pigeons crowded around his feet. He kicked out at them.
Zain pulled up the internet browser on his phone, the last page he had looked at still displayed. It was an article about Maggie Walsh and her parliamentary commission looking into corruption by British business operating in the Democratic Republic of Congo. She had managed to get that at least from her ten-minute speech. There was no mention of KNG, MINDNET, Jed Byrne or Harry Cain.
He had read elsewhere that KNG had stopped their IPO, stating uncertainty in the commodities market, and that they would reassess and float on the stock market at an opportune time. PR bullshit and spin. They had been hurt financially, at least. It just didn’t seem enough. People had died, and no one was being held accountable. Maggie’s commission would take ages to get going, and probably end up delivering nothing. It was the political equivalent of sabre rattling as far as he was concerned. A smokescreen the rich and powerful used to get away with their shit.
Still. He knew where Jed Byrne lived. Maybe he should give him some personal payback? It was an alternative way to exist. If doing things officially didn’t work, take to the shadows.
He shivered as the wind cut through him.
It was a fantasy, though, he knew. They were too powerful, too well connected, for him to do any significant damage. And he could easily be got rid of. Zain was very aware of just how mortal he was. He felt as though he was living on borrowed time.
A shadow crossed over him.
‘I bought you a coffee,’ she said.
Kate was wearing a long black coat, her hair pulled back on top of her head. The aroma of latte filled the space between them. He took it, as she sat down on the bench next to him. It tasted good. He hadn’t eaten anything for two days, burnt his tongue as he gulped it down.
Walking back, Kate decided to take a detour around the park. She had been shocked at Zain’s appearance. Not just the unkempt beard, but the haggard look in his face, the deadness in his eyes. He looked like a poster image for someone that had given up.
Yet when he started to talk about KNG, and how they were going to get away with murder, there was that old fire and determination back in his voice, his eyes were alive again. It was manic. She knew then that her decision was the only one possible.
He had been certain she was going to send him on ‘gardening leave’ or, worse still, just terminate his contract completely. No longer fit for duty. Truth is, she still wondered if that might be the right course of action, especially seeing the state he was in. Instead, she had told him she would be giving him another chance. He had proved himself the night he saved Ruby and Dan. She just needed to know she could trust him.
Queen Anne’s Gate was empty as Kate walked down it, the post-lunch crowds all gone. It was an early afternoon lull, before the commuters started their journey home. Kate’s own journey was now cut to fifteen minutes of brisk walking. She had moved her mother into a riverside complex with twenty-four-hour security, and an on-site shopping arcade. Ryan was reduced to housekeeping, but his need was gone. Her mother was safe to walk around three acres of landscaped gardens, and Kate was secure in the knowledge she was being watched by the doormen, CCTV and nosy neighbours.
Another temporary belief she was safe. Until something happened to make her believe otherwise.
That was the problem with severing ties with your history, and all those in it. They became ogres, and you lost all sense of what they were really doing. Where they might actually be.
She thought again of Zain. He seemed to lose the ability to breathe when she told him he was coming back to work for her.
‘I won’t let you down,’ he had said. ‘This means everything to me.’
Everything. She could believe it, and she understood how the job really could be so all-consuming. In Zain Harris, she saw herself. Nothing else would ever match up to what they did. They were wired to be who they were.
Yes, she told herself. She had made the right decision. Everyone deserved the chance to live again. She of all people knew that truth.
Acknowledgements
It has been a ‘journey’ to get here and there are some people I can only describe as dream merchants that have helped me along the way.
The best agent in the world – Luigi Bonomi. Legend. Alison Bonomi for finding me, keeping me going when it got really dark, and treating me so well. I owe you gunpowder potatoes at the very least.
My phenomenal editor Kate Parkin. Thank you for sharing my vision; your words are always surprising, never taken for granted, and make me feel ten feet tall. My other amazing editor (yes, I realise how lucky I am) Kate Ballard. I think I was your trial by fire right from your first day, but it’s worked out so well. Thank you for your support and understanding always (and for letting me blabber away on e-mail!)
I lack the courage to shout about this novel to the world. Luckily for me I have the awesome Emily Burns in my corner to do that for me! So thank you to you and your team! Sam Bulos and Martin Fletcher for taking a hammer and chisel to my drafts. Everyone at LBA Books and Bonnier. Nicest people ever. The Twenty7 gang – Anadin has never met such suportive/wonderful people, thanks for the laughter, advice and great novels.
God, Mum, my family and friends – the essentials to my life that I can’t do without.
About the Author
Alex Caan was born in Manchester, has spent over a decade working in information systems security for a number of government organisations, and is currently specialising in terrorism studies. A lifetime passion for writing was sparked by the encouraging words of an English teacher in school, and eventually led to Alex successfully completing an MA in Creative Writing and writing Cut to the Bone.
First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Twenty7 Books
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Copyright © Alex Caan, 2016
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The right of Alex Caan to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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