Over Your Shoulder

by C J Carver

She gave a long sigh. One of those that meant I was being irritating.

  I went on. ‘If you gave false details on our marriage certificate, which is a legal document, then it’s invalidated. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Dearest, darling Nick.’

  She stepped into view. For a moment, I had trouble recognising her. Head to toe, she was covered in mud. It was in her hair, across her face, all over her clothes. She looked down as though seeing herself through my eyes. ‘A bit of a mess, eh.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘But nothing a hot bath and a whisky won’t fix.’

  For the first time, I noticed she wasn’t holding the pistol.

  ‘Where’s your gun?’ I asked.

  She tilted her chin behind her. ‘Back there. Safe. I wanted to talk to you without it. To show you I trust you. That I love you, my gorgeous wonderful sexy husband. And to tell you that we are married in the eyes of the law. Always have been and always will be, if you just hang on tight, and let me explain.’

  I opened and closed my mouth. I felt dizzy, close to losing any mental faculty I had. She’d killed my brother, and she wanted me to hang on tight?

  ‘See it from my point of view,’ she said. Her tone was reasonable, as though we were discussing something we’d just watched on TV. ‘I was thirteen years old when I was diagnosed officially as a sociopath – which is the same as a psychopath except it sounds more socially acceptable – and my life ended. Can you understand how awful it was? One minute I’m a normal girl, the next I’m tarred with a psychological brush that blackens me from head to foot and nobody, and I mean nobody, wants a bar of me.’

  ‘You killed Susie,’ I said. ‘The real Susie.’

  ‘Having a label like that stopped me from doing what I wanted, don’t you see? And when the label wasn’t there anymore, I could be anything I wanted and nobody could stop me.’

  ‘Rob saw you kill Susie,’ I said. ‘He witnessed it.’

  ‘She was nothing.’ My Susie made a dismissive gesture. ‘She wasn’t half as good as me, you know. We met at an induction interview. It was actually one of the other interviewees who noticed how alike we were. Same build, same hair, eye colouring. He said our likeness could be incredibly useful as spies. It made us laugh, me and Susie. We became friends until she was accepted into MI5 and I was rejected. They’d found my psychological profile, you see. Said I wasn’t the right stuff.’

  ‘So you killed her. Took over her life.’

  ‘I made a far better officer than she would have in a million years. I would never have been lured to the Mayfair offices that night, for example. Talk about stupid. Both of them, actually. Susie and Tony. God, it was so easy to set up it was like taking candy from babies. I’d told Susie to meet me outside the lifts on the third floor – I’d spun her a story that it was to do with an MI5 exercise in role play – and bingo. There she was, bright-eyed and expectant… all I had to do was show her my gun, George Abbott’s gun, and march her into Tony’s office.

  ‘They really thought I was threatening to shoot them in order to take pictures of them dressed up in that S&M gear, and sell it to the papers. Laughable, really.’

  ‘You set it up so nobody knew Susie was the target,’ I said.

  ‘Nobody missed Rachel when she vanished,’ she agreed. ‘And nobody missed Susie because, ta da. She was there, albeit beaten up after her “mugging”.’

  It had almost been the perfect crime, I realised, until Rob had arrived and messed things up.

  She stepped forward until she was close. Really close. Looked up at me. Into my eyes.

  Chapter 74

  ‘We have a great life together, don’t we.’ Susie’s voice was soft. ‘We do stuff together, we laugh, have fun. Holidays, movies, sailing, living together. I know I have to go away sometimes, because I struggle occasionally being that person who’s so nice, but I’m always back because we’re a team. You’re my husband. You are my life.’ She raised her hand as if to touch my face but when I reared back, dropped it.

  ‘Without you…’ She swallowed. ‘My life won’t be the same. People won’t like me anymore. They won’t trust me. I like my life with you, Nick. It’s really good. I love you and I love my job. I’m going to be DG one day. Guaranteed. Boss of MI5. Just think. You’ll be married to one of the most powerful women in the land.’

  Was she sane, or insane? I couldn’t work it out.

  Better say nothing.

  ‘So,’ she said. She reached out as if to take my hand but I took a step back. I couldn’t help it.

  She shrugged. ‘I guess it’ll take you a little time to adjust.’

  I stood there. Dumb, paralysed.

  ‘But it’s for the best because, finally, I can now relax. Everyone who knows the truth has been silenced.’

  Except me, I thought.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ She smiled, a bright smile that used to light up my day, but now sent my skin crawling. ‘I’m not going to kill you, my love. We shall walk out of the forest together, and continue our lives as we’ve done the past twelve years. In harmony.’

  I wanted to ask what story she was going to come up with as to why she’d shot two police officers as well as my brother and the Saint, but decided she was so adept at lying, setting smoke screens, there seemed no point.

  She put out her hand again, wanting me to take it.

  ‘Shall we?’

  I stood silently, ice flowing through my veins.

  ‘Nick?’ Her voice held a tentative question but I heard the quiet warning beneath it.

  I was opening my mouth, I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, when a man said, very quietly, ‘Susie.’

  She didn’t move, didn’t flicker an eye, but I saw that cloak of stillness drop over her.

  The man had spoken from the forest behind her. I couldn’t see him but he was close. Really close.

  ‘I’m armed,’ he went on in the same soft tone. ‘And I’m not alone. I want you to remain calm and not do anything stupid that might force me to shoot you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you’ve got a gun. The Office doesn’t–’

  ‘I found it in your husband’s glovebox.’

  At that, her jaw softened. She stared at me. ‘Nick?’

  I unstuck my tongue from the roof of my mouth. ‘Rob gave it to me.’

  ‘Fucksake.’

  The man said, ‘Turn round, Susie. Slowly.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ She affected an exasperated tone. ‘I’m one of the bad guys now? Look, the Saint shot those two men, Robert Ashdown and David Gilder, and I took him out. George Abbott, dead as a fucking doornail. I’d call that a good day’s work.’

  ‘Raise your hands above your head.’ His voice was hard.

  ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘One hundred per cent.’

  ‘Ah, shit.’

  Small silence.

  ‘Raise them, Susie.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I have a broken arm.’

  ‘Put the good one up.’

  When she didn’t move, he screamed, ‘Put it above your head or I will shoot you!’

  She flung her good arm in the air, but instead of turning round, took a step toward me.

  He fired.

  Chapter 75

  Susie didn’t fall. She didn’t move. Her arm was still raised, her gaze on mine. An icy incredulous stare.

  She was shocked, I realised. She hadn’t thought he’d shoot.

  ‘You make another move and I won’t miss the second time,’ the man warned. He stepped into view. Early forties. Fit-looking. Smart suit, spattered with mud. White shirt. Tie. His arms and wrists were held straight, his head cocked to one side, looking straight down the barrel.

  ‘This has to be a joke,’ Susie said, but she didn’t move.

  There came a scamper of leaves and a uniformed police officer appeared with a German Shepherd at his side, pulling on its harness.

  ‘Nick,’ the officer said. ‘I want you to move towards me, please. Away from Susie.’

  ‘Don’t,
’ she hissed. Her eyes flashed at me.

  My knees were soft, my body trembling.

  ‘Nick.’ The officer was firm. ‘Do as I say.’

  I edged to the side. Susie watched me go. Her face was expressionless. The officer moved to meet me, gripping my upper arm and swiftly advancing me to the side but I stopped and pulled free. Turned round.

  I saw the man in the suit approach Susie. He was less than a yard from her, eyes still sighted down the barrel of his gun, when she made her move.

  For a moment, I couldn’t believe it. She had a broken arm, a makeshift bandage on the other, and she was dropping down, ducking onto her right knee, levering herself into a spin with her left leg, diving her left hand down, going for the base of her spine, lifting her shirt and bringing out her pistol.

  She’d lied about being unarmed.

  And then she was bringing up her weapon, her eyes trained on the man in the suit.

  She was fast, but he was no slouch either.

  The second her gun was visible, he fired.

  I heard the sharp chink as his bullet hit her gun.

  He fired again.

  Her gun flew to the ground. She made to go for it but he said, ‘Don’t.’

  He didn’t shout the word but he didn’t have to. It was laced with meaning. Don’t make me, he said. I don’t want to shoot you. But if you force the issue I will kill you.

  Susie’s gaze was on her gun, but she didn’t move.

  ‘Face down,’ he told her.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  ‘You can and you will because if you don’t, I will shoot you.’

  Achingly slowly, never leaving her eyes from her weapon, she lowered herself to the mulchy ground.

  The man stepped across fast and kicked her gun away. Then he came to her and brought out a pair of handcuffs. He crimped one cuff around her good wrist, and then he brought it to the small of her back where he locked the other cuff to the rear belt hook of her jeans. He went to her gun and unloaded it. Shoved it in his waistband. Then he put his hand beneath her good elbow and pulled her upright. Walked her to where I stood with the dog handler.

  As he approached, I said, ‘Who are you?’ My voice was hoarse.

  He looked at me as if for the first time.

  ‘Mark Felton,’ he said. ‘I’m Susie’s boss.’

  I looked at Susie. She looked away.

  ‘Susie?’ I said.

  She shrugged. ‘I’m not saying anything until I get a lawyer.’

  Chapter 76

  I watched as Susie was put in the back of a police car. Her expression was as dense and cold as stone. She didn’t look at me as she was driven away. She didn’t look at anyone. She looked straight ahead, chin up, as though she wasn’t bathed in mud with a shattered forearm resting on her knee.

  ‘What was that back there?’ Mark Felton nudged his chin behind us, at the forest. ‘Over who I was?’

  ‘I thought I’d met you,’ I said. ‘But I hadn’t. It was someone impersonating you.’

  There was a flare of curiosity in his eyes but I didn’t explain. I was thinking of the coils of lies lying on top of one another, the schemes and intrigues Susie had created, all the smoke and mirrors she’d used. I realised nothing she’d told me could be believed.

  Nothing.

  Not a single word.

  I said, ‘My brother never worked for MI5, did he?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ He looked startled.

  I watched as the patrol car, with Susie inside, vanished out of view. Swallowed into misty darkness.

  ‘She told me Rob worked with you,’ I told him. ‘But it was a lie.’

  Mark Felton was staring at me.

  ‘Susie and I met at Rob’s memorial, you see. She came and spoke to me. She wore a long summer dress. She told me she was there because she used to work with Rob. And then when we got together…’

  ‘You believed her?’ His eyebrows rose.

  ‘I believed everything.’

  I continued to stare at the space where the patrol car had been for a long time.

  Chapter 77

  I left London while Susie was being charged with multiple murders, along with a host of other indictments, and only returned when the Old Bailey turned her down for bail and I knew she was firmly incarcerated. I hadn’t wanted her to find me and possibly follow me to St Margaret’s Hospital and finish off what she’d started.

  Rob was sitting up in bed when I arrived, holding hands with

  Sorcha, who’d shed her Norwegian sweater and was wearing a figure-hugging corduroy dress that stopped just above her knees. Dad sat in a chair in the corner with the newspaper and Mum was fussing around Rob’s room rearranging the cards and well-wishing gifts that had flooded in ever since the story broke.

  Not only was my brother Superman for bringing down the terrorist in the restaurant, but he’d solved a cold case that had troubled people for years.

  Everyone loved a hero.

  ‘Darling.’ Mum came and gave me a kiss. Love and compassion shone in her eyes. ‘How are you bearing up?’

  I didn’t know how to answer. I’d loved Susie so much, allowing my most vulnerable self to be deeply seen and known by her, that I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. I’d cultivated love with her for over a decade and I was twisting on the rope of betrayal. It burned and ate at me like an animal that couldn’t satiate its hunger.

  Susie had slipped under my skin, infected my blood and conquered my heart, and now she was gone, I was a mess. I was living with what my doctor called PTSD symptoms – hypervigilance, flashbacks and confusion – and although he’d given me some pills, I hadn’t yet taken them. I’d seen the therapist he recommended once, but I’d been so overwhelmed by the complexity of the story and my part in it that I’d quickly fallen silent and spent the remaining forty-five minutes staring out of the window, mind logjammed.

  ‘I’m surviving,’ I said.

  Dad pushed back his chair. Came over and gripped my arm and gave it a shake. ‘You’ll be all right,’ he told me. ‘You’re like your brother. Strong as an ox.’

  Rob gave me a smile with his eyes. He’d only started speaking a couple of days earlier. A gunshot to the neck was, the surgeon told us, diagnostically and therapeutically challenging. The high density of vital structures in the neck made it virtually impossible for him to escape without permanent damage of some sort, but looking on the bright side, the bullet had missed his spinal cord. He’d had surgery to reconstruct hard tissues and started rehabilitation of the oral vestibule, but we’d been told he might need another couple of operations to correct residual deformities before he could think about coming home.

  It was going to be a long haul, but at least he was here, and he was alive.

  I crossed the room to kiss Sorcha on the cheek. It was thanks to Sorcha that we knew Rob’s story. How he’d always been the happy wastrel we’d loved. How he’d come into money through drug running between George Abbott and La Familia de Sangre. How he’d become addicted to crack cocaine. Started making mistakes.

  It had been David Gilder who’d stopped Rob’s car on the M25 and found a suitcase of drugs containing fourteen packets of MDMA. A search of Rob’s hotel room uncovered just under a million pounds cash. He’d already sold most of the drugs to George Abbott and was due to sail the money back to the Spanish gang, but David Gilder had other plans. Instead of arresting Rob, he made him a deal. Rob would work undercover for him, starting with bugging the Mayfair offices, and David Gilder would keep him out of jail.

  ‘You didn’t work for MI5?’ I asked Rob.

  ‘Never.’

  The night Tony died, Rob had gone to the Mayfair offices. He’d followed a young pretty woman through the foyer – the real Susie – before going to bug George Abbott’s office, half chatting to the cleaner, Klaudia Nowacki. Back in the corridor, he was going to bug Tony Abbott’s office, except another woman stopped him.

  ‘Rachel,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ Rob confirmed. �
��She was dressed as though she was middle-aged with flat shoes, a dumpy skirt and a grey wig, but she was young, around the same age as me, early twenties.’

  I remembered what Klaudia had said, just before she was shot that it was strange, because normally she is so proud of her looks. Klaudia had been puzzled as to why sexy Rachel had dressed so dowdily. Now we knew why. To disguise herself so nobody, least of all anyone watching the CCTV tape, would recognise her.

  ‘I thought I could charm my way around her but she sent me packing. Scary woman actually. I took the lift back to the ground floor to fool her, then I came back. I didn’t want to leave without bugging Tony Abbott’s office.’

  His gaze turned distant as he remembered the rest of that catastrophic evening.

  ‘I interrupted Rachel as she was bashing in another woman’s head.’

  ‘The real Susie,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘I recognised her from earlier, in the foyer.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘She was still alive. The real Susie. I could see her breathing. I didn’t think, you know. I just went for Rachel. She tried to pull out a gun but I was much stronger. I got hold of it. She ran. I ran after her, down the stairwell and across the foyer and outside.’

  He closed his eyes. ‘Christ, she was fast. Like a bloody whippet. I lost her in the tube station.’

  Rob went on to tell me how things unravelled when he called David Gilder. Apparently an anonymous caller, who we guessed to be Rachel, had rung the Saint on his personal line and told him that Rob had killed Rachel and Tony in a jealous rage, and the Saint had fallen for it.

  ‘Rachel would have seen me delivering drugs,’ Rob told me. ‘She knew who I was. I didn’t know her though. It was the perfect set up to discredit me, the only witness to the murders, as well as frame me.’

  ‘So you never had an affair with Rachel. My Susie, I mean.’ Above all the smoke and mirrors, I had to make this clear in my mind.

  ‘No.’ His voice was firm. ‘I’d never met her before that night.’