When Kal left the devastation, she returned to the lounge where Sophie slept so peacefully. Kal had worked in disaster zones and areas of conflict around the world, and she’d seen how people can endure on the edge of death, sometimes for incredible lengths of time. It’s afterwards, when people have “survived” that the problems magnify. When the pain and horror that’s been packed so far down have time to breathe and come to life. Kal knew it was this silent aftermath that destroyed people, continuing for years as a huge force of torment. Poor Sophie. She felt so sorry for her. Kal didn’t feel angry. She felt sad that a young girl could have so much anguish inside that she had to destroy to feel better.
Kal went to her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the night sky. The questions were mounting up. There was a mystery around this girl. Sophie needed help. And whether it was by fate, or by sheer good or bad luck, the two of them had crossed each other’s paths. There was no question in Kal’s mind that she’d see this through to the end.
***
‘It must have been me, oh please don’t hate me and I’m so sorry, I don’t remember a thing about it. Please don’t be mad at me. I can pay for the damages. I’ve got money.’
Sophie’s embarrassment and shame came spilling out and Kal had no desire to make it worse. She decided to use the damage in the kitchen as a springboard.
‘I guess you’ve done this type of thing before?’
The girl’s bottom lip trembled. ‘Yes, that’s why they only let me use plastic plates and cups.’
A few moments ago, Sophie had emerged voluntarily from behind the barricade. She’d seemed steady and much stronger and Kal didn’t want to destroy that fledgling confidence.
‘My friend Eliza says they only give me plastic to punish me since I never smash things just like that in the open. It only happens when I’m upset and I can never remember afterwards. Do you think what Eliza says is right? That they’re trying to make me feel small?’
Kal thought it highly likely but now didn’t seem the time.
‘Let’s start with Penny. You told me she was your friend, right?’
‘Yes.’
Kal studied Sophie. She doubted the girl was a good liar. ‘Do you know anything about her death?’
‘What are you talking about? You told me she was killed but you didn’t tell me how. How could I know about her death?’
‘Did you see it for yourself?’
‘Of course not! Why are you asking me?’
‘Because I found you in the bottom of a laundry basket and you were in a deep state of shock and I brought you back here. Can you tell me what happened?’
‘I remember painting in the rainforest room and then the next thing I knew I was here, in the hallway.’
Kal knew Sophie wasn’t lying – there were no tell-tale signs, no out-of-sync body language, no minor flaws in her delivery or tone. No, Sophie had suffered a major memory loss centring around whatever she’d seen or heard last night.
‘So, what about your family? Who is it gives you plastic things to eat with?’
Sophie started stroking the cat and she kept her eyes down. ‘I live at a private clinic and it’s not called “a loony bin”, though I’m sure some people call it that. It’s called a “clinic” because people pay a lot of money to get treated there.’
Shit. A few alarm bells started ringing. ‘Are you on medication?’
‘I take sleeping pills sometimes and if I want a sedative during the day I can ask for one. I’m not on regular medicine like Eliza, though I used to be.’
‘I’ve got to ask these questions if I’m going to help you, Sophie, I’m sorry.’ No point in sugar coating it. ‘Are you mentally ill?’`
Sophie laughed and it sounded cold and hollow. ‘What normal person smashes every item in someone else’s house? What normal person keeps blacking out and can’t remember chunks of time? Dr Kaufman says I’m “susceptible” and I’ll need care all my life, that I’m a danger to myself and I’ll never be safe on my own.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I think he might be right.’
Sophie wore long sleeves. Kal had noted that back at the rainforest room and she’d wondered about it, given the heat pumping full blast into the whole of the changing area. Had Sophie ever cut at her arms to self-harm? Or worse, attacked her own wrists? Though Kal was no expert in mental health, she felt the possibility was high and her first instinct was to take Sophie back to the clinic, or, at least, to a competent doctor.
And yet Kal knew there was more. The cat’s green eyes looked steadily at her. What gave her the right to push Sophie? To ask her to go to difficult places? Sometimes it’s better to let things be. To let them happen in their own time.
‘You’re probably thinking I’m some sort of nut-case and I’m not,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t know why I do the things I do. You told me you’d help me and I’m not going to hold you to it, but I’m hoping you will.’
There came the girl’s intuition again. Your delivery is spot on, Sophie, because if you’d have tried to guilt trip me, it wouldn’t have worked.
‘You sure know how to read people,’ Kal said.
‘When you spend your life in an institution, it’s a skill you pick up,’ Sophie said. ‘And I know you’ve been holding back on the obvious question about my family so you’d better prepare yourself if you want to know the truth.’ Sophie continued stroking the cat’s head. ‘Both my parents are dead. Killed in their own home. Murdered in cold blood.’
Kal clutched at the edge of the settee. Felt herself falling. It wasn’t so much Sophie’s words as the image they brought to mind. An image of a luxury, American home thousands of miles away and a man and woman lying dead, blood staining the walls from an arterial spray. In her imagination, Kal heard the click as her father pulled the safety catch on his gun, his face composed, yet hard as granite. She forgot to clamp her lips shut, and let out a small noise.
‘Kal, what’s wrong?’
Her father told them he was a journalist. And, as a child, she’d believed him. It was only recently she’d discovered the truth about his secret life – that he was a top-level operative for a drug Cartel. That he gathered information. That he was highly skilled in infiltrating the highest levels of American anti-drug agencies. David Khan had been a trained killer, an expert in mind-games and psychological manipulation. The revelations had almost killed her.
Kal screwed her eyes shut, then opened them. ‘Wh- what happened?’
‘Kal? What’s wrong?’
Kal shook her head. ‘That… that’s terrible. Tell me what happened.’
‘My father was shot and my mother was stabbed to death, though which of them died first the police couldn’t say. No one knows what happened. A gun was found at the scene and so was the knife that killed my mother. There were no fingerprints, no other evidence. People say perhaps they killed each other since no killer has ever been found.’
Kal forced away the shame about her own father. ‘Let me concentrate,’ she said, ‘because it sounds to me as if you don’t believe that explanation.’
‘Of course I don’t, but who’s going to take any notice of me? How likely is it that an unknown person came into my parents’ house and killed them both and left without a trace? The police investigated and it came to nothing.’
‘Sophie, I’m so sorry. And what about you, how old were you when this happened?’
‘I was nine years old and I was upstairs asleep. There were just the three of us in the house. All I remember is going to bed and then waking up to find myself at the police station. A woman gave me a teddy bear with a red bow and then she told me my parents were dead.’
‘Oh no.’
Sophie was the sole survivor. The child that lived. Kal stared at the girl, seeing instead the report on the final assassination carried out by her father, and the paragraph where it stated, “One survivor. A child.” A drop of cold sweat ran down her back.
‘I didn’t
mean to upset you,’ Sophie said. ‘Is it because your mother died? I didn’t mean to remind you about losing her.’
Kal concentrated on her own breathing, willing herself to stay calm. The resemblance between the manner of death of Sophie’s parents and her father’s last murderous act was uncanny. She wasn’t superstitious and she didn’t believe in omens, so then why, as she looked at Sophie, did she feel her father’s legacy had come back to haunt her?
‘It’s all right, Kal, I got over the loss a long time ago but I don’t think you’ve got over yours. Goodness, the last thing I want to do is churn all the pain up for you – I know how terrible that can be.’
Part of Kal felt as if she were drowning. She mustn’t inhale her father’s poison or it could kill her. As the past tried to engulf her, Kal pushed hard against it. The room came back into focus – Sophie appeared distraught, believing Kal was speechless with grief over Alesha.
‘It’s such a horrific story,’ Kal said, shaking her head, ‘almost unbelievable, like something you’d see in a movie and yet it’s real. It really happened to you. Sure, I’m still struggling with the pain of losing my mother and that must be nothing compared to the desolation a nine-year-old child would feel.’ She’d never wanted to think too much about that child who had survived her father’s last assassination.
‘What happened to your mother?’ Sophie asked.
Kal took a moment to collect herself. ‘She was a journalist and a top one. She was investigating a paedophile ring and that’s how she died – fighting for justice.’ Kal’s voice broke on the last word and she sat very still, letting the loss rip through her.
‘She must have been wonderful and beautiful, just like my mother, Charlotte. What was her name?’
‘Alesha, and actually this apartment is hers. I decided to give up my own place and move here. It seemed the right thing to do.’
Sophie gave a high-pitched shriek. ‘Oh no, the china in the kitchen! I broke all your mother’s things.’
‘No, you didn’t. They were mine. I put most of Mum’s items into storage, so you don’t need to worry about that.’
‘I can pay for it. Like I said, I’ve got money.’
The apartment intercom interrupted them and Sophie almost jumped out of her skin. Kal watched the blood drain from Sophie’s cheeks.
‘Who’s that?’ the girl whispered.
‘I’ve no idea. Someone down at street level wants my attention. It’s nothing to panic about Sophie, it’s just an intercom.’
It buzzed again, the sound intrusive and insistent.
‘Apartment 701,’ Kal said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Delivery,’ said the voice at the other end. ‘For Ms Kal Medi.’
‘I’ll let you in.’
Sophie jumped to her feet. ‘No, don’t!’
‘It’s an ordinary delivery and nothing to worry about. Tell me what’s going on, Sophie, tell me what you’re feeling. I need to understand.’
‘I can’t leave any gaps. It can get to me through the gaps.’
‘What can?’
‘The voice, it’s a voice that gets inside my head.’
Sophie’s panic was obvious and real. Kal took her arm and propelled her to the bathroom. ‘Lock yourself in,’ she said. ‘You’ll be able to hear everything and I’ll tell you when it’s okay to come out. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.’
Against all logic, the pit of Kal’s stomach had turned cold and, though she couldn’t fathom why, she wished she had her gun. It was stashed in its usual hiding place at the training centre. Perhaps she should go back soon and retrieve it.
Kal crossed quickly to the window. A white florist’s van was pulled up outside. Kal had learned to trust her instincts and they were on red alert, even though the van appeared completely normal. Her pulse notched up, so, as she waited for the knock at her door, she made certain to take a few even breaths. With care, she flexed her knees and felt a pain shoot up her left leg. The incident in India had a lot to answer for. At the end of her physiotherapy treatment, the therapist had told Kal to give it time and go easy on the martial arts, that knees could take a long time to heal after an injury, even when all the x-rays and imaging showed them to be in shape. In response, Kal had told the therapist something rude, that she later regretted.
The knock at the door came short and sharp. Kal checked the spy-hole. A young man stood on the other side, holding a bouquet of what looked like white lilies. She took one more slow breath, then opened the door.
‘Hello,’ he said brightly, ‘please sign here.’
He pushed a digital pad into Kal’s hands. Like every delivery person, he was in a rush, his mind already on his next call and the route he’d take and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Once she’d signed, he passed over the flowers and was already starting for the elevator when he called over his shoulder. ‘There’s a card inside.’
Kal felt perplexed and berated herself for getting ruffled up for nothing. Why had she let Sophie’s panic get to her? That wasn’t like her. The man was a florist and he’d not come with any sinister intentions. Conscious of Sophie waiting in the bathroom, Kal closed the door before she turned her attention to the small, rectangular card. When she read the few words, she fell to her knees, crushing the lilies to her chest. The card held two lines. The top line read, “With all our condolences for your loss,” and underneath, was a map reference. Kal hunched over the lilies, unable to breathe.
Chapter Seventeen
A grey sky hung over the river Thames, threatening another storm. Across the water, new office blocks faced onto the shoreline, and it was so odd to see some of them with their lights on, warding off the eerie summer gloom. Kal stared at the little rows of lit squares, trying to fend off her own dark mood. The florist’s card signalled the end of her search. This would be the last instalment. The final nail in the coffin.
A light but surprisingly bitter wind whipped along the river, chopping up the water and forming small, white caps. Kal didn’t envy the scuba divers their task. They’d suited up without a hint of protest and the four-person team had already been searching for a good hour. It must be freezing down there and she was sure visibility would be close to nil. Detective Inspector Spinks stood by Kal’s side. He’d responded straight away to Kal’s call and she hadn’t tried to disguise the pitch in her voice – a pitch which passed him the message of finality – an end to the case they’d worked together.
As soon as Kal read the anonymous card, she knew it came from the Cartel. They’d finally delivered on their promise to locate her mother – in death rather than in life. The map reference led the search party to the Thames just south of Battersea bridge. On this side, it was an empty stretch, with the main activity taking place on the other bank.
Detective Inspector Spinks didn’t say much. Kal had the impression he wanted to put a fatherly arm around her shoulders and wondered if, for once, she could have dropped her guard and allowed him to. Kal stood like stone, staring out over the water, her arms rigid by her sides. Right beside Kal, Spinks was a solid presence and this helped her. After all the events earlier that year, and despite her initial dislike and suspicion of the man, Spinks had become someone Kal admired. At their very first meeting, the odds against that had been phenomenal.
When Sophie saw Kal changing into a long, black, velvet dress, she’d insisted on staying with Kal, despite her own fear of going outside. Sophie knew what that dress meant. The dress was unmistakably funereal. It was the one Kal had bought for her mother’s memorial. Then, at the last minute, she’d been unable to bear wearing it for a memorial service that felt so empty of meaning. Now, the dark hem swept the mud.
Sophie waited a short distance away, cold and watchful, squelching about on the bank. The Thames was a tidal river and they stood on the exposed sludge, amongst assorted debris. The mud gave off an unpleasant odour.
DI Spinks cleared his throat. ‘You seemed so sure on the phone but you didn’t tell me how you got
the tip off.’
Kal pulled the white card from her pocket and handed it over. She watched Spinks’ jawline. It was his strongest feature and stamped him out as a man of character. Clean shaven, with greying hair and dark, hooded eyes, Spinks appeared the same – worn down but resilient, saving his energy for the long haul. She wondered what nasty case he was working at present and what urgent tasks she’d pulled him away from.
‘I didn’t know you had influential friends,’ Spinks said.
‘Didn’t you?’
Out by the motor boat, a shout went up. Kal felt like vomiting – they’d found something.
‘Thank you for coming, Inspector.’
He seemed surprised. ‘Ms Medi, I know we don’t see eye-to-eye on methods but I want you to know I’ve nothing but respect for you. Of course I came.’
Yes, Spinks had to play it by the book and Kal didn’t. Whether or not he knew about her contact with the Cartel, he was seasoned and smart enough to know she’d had assistance from someone with networks and power. And not of the good kind.
They watched as the boat crew deployed a winch. Since the wind was picking up, it was slow work. It seemed ages before the divers disappeared back under the surface with the length of chain.
‘There’s a new case I’m involved in,’ Kal said, ‘and it would be useful if I could know the results of an autopsy.’
Spinks raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s a big request, Ms Medi, and you know that type of information can’t be passed to anyone outside an investigation.’
Yes, Kal knew that. And she knew there were always ways and means and special circumstances.
‘I’ve been thinking what to do next,’ Kal said. ‘Probably I’ll pick up photojournalism again and take off. You never know, I might come across intelligence now and again that you might find useful.’
London Noir: A gripping crime suspense thriller (Kal Medi Book 2) Page 7