“It was not meant to be.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Simply that. You were meant to heal them. But you’re not meant to heal me. My time has been prescribed, and there’s nought that you, or anyone else can do to alter it.”
Alessandra started to sob. The first tears she had probably shed since she had left her mother’s house, never to return, leaving her mother behind with a mind without memories. She closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking gently on the spot.
She felt a hand upon her arm, gently pulling her closer to him. Then a hand upon the side of her cheek.
“Alice. There is a goodness there in your heart. I can feel it. And you did something for me this evening that no one else has done in years. You showed me a kindness that I shouldn’t really expect from someone I know so little. You reached out to me and tried to help a stranger. You’ve put some warmth back in my heart. You might not have healed me, but you shared a part of you with me this evening that I will keep and treasure. I’m not dead yet. And thanks to you, I’ll find some strength to stand another day.”
Alessandra leant forward and kissed him gently on the forehead.
“Now go…” he said, wincing, another spasm of pain coursing through his body. “I need to rest. To sleep…”
He lay back on the pillow and handed her the glass, now empty.
His eyes closed and for a few moments Alessandra worried that he had died, until thankfully she heard the reassuring slow but steady rhythm of his breathing.
Putting a new log on the fire and securing the fire guard around the fireplace, she stepped out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.
She took a moment longer to compose herself in the hallway of Young Angus’s house, before pulling on her coat and leaving the old cottage.
As she walked slowly down the High-Street towards her rental cottage, she looked out across the bay and the still sea and admired the reflection of the bright, full moon.
Her mind was full of thoughts.
She cursed herself for the selfishness she had just exhibited towards Young Angus. She’d raised his hopes and then dashed them. What the hell had she been thinking about?
Trying to cure a man of cancer?
Her, a healer?
Had she really just been so stupid?
She shivered with embarrassment and quickened her pace towards home. Her temporary home.
From now on there would be no more of this helping, ‘curing’ or ‘healing others’ shit.
Tomorrow she would return to her real life and what she was good at. Her true talent, and what she was born to do.
Killing people.
She thought of DCI Campbell McKenzie and resolved that he, and perhaps also Tommy McNunn, would both be dead within a week.
Then she would leave Scotland, as quickly as possible, and never return.
Chapter 19
The Kremlin
Russia
Thursday
10.30 p.m.
Colonel Alexei Zhirov finished reading the report he had been given on the death of Pavel Kuznetsov in Scotland.
His death had surprised him. And angered him.
Kuznetsov had not only been a good friend and business colleague, but he was a valued member of Pravda, a covert operation set up several years ago to generate a much-needed source of foreign currency through the establishment of both legitimate and illegitimate businesses abroad.
Pavel Kuznetsov was a leading member of the group. He had fingers in every pie, was connected in all the right places in the underworld, and had friends in high places in the Kremlin.
Everyone knew that Kuznetsov kept the lion’s share of the monies he earned, but he was a crook, after all. And in spite of the funds he squirreled away through his network of secret bank accounts, he still transferred home tens of millions of US dollars and British Pounds every year to the Kremlin’s vaults.
As Colonel Zhirov read the report two main thoughts occurred to him.
Firstly, he had to ensure that a successor was found as quickly as possible. Someone who was as loyal to the Kremlin as Kuznetsov had been and who was just as greedy. Whoever took over Kuznetsov’s operation had to have a self-inspired determination to generate as much money as possible, thus maximising the Kremlin’s share and keeping that area of Pravda operational.
Secondly, Colonel Zhirov wanted revenge. Someone had killed his friend and now honour dictated that whoever was responsible, wherever they were, would be killed in retaliation.
An eye for an eye.
A tooth for a tooth.
Slowly. Painfully.
As horrifically as possible.
According to the report, the assassin most likely held to be responsible for Kuznetsov’s death was a lone wolf called Salvador.
The report on Salvador was comprehensive, listing every target that had been attributed to him in the past ten years.
It was impressive.
Not only was Salvador one of the most competent and feared assassins available for hire in the entire world, but he was also a ghost.
In spite of numerous attempts to do so, neither the NSA, CIA, MI6 or their own SVR and FSB had ever managed to identify Salvador or track him down.
Zhirov knew that Salvador should not be underestimated.
He was dangerous. Capable. And invisible.
Whoever Zhirov sent to kill him had to be an equal match. Or better.
Equally invisible - and deniable -, just as deadly, and more than capable.
He knew just the man.
Picking up the phone he ordered his assistant to set up the call.
--------------------
The Grange
Edinburgh
9.30 p.m.
Fiona McKenzie lay in her bed, looking up at the ceiling.
She was feeling tired. Very tired.
But she could not sleep.
She was scared. Confused. Angry.
She felt a whole rainbow of emotions, - except rainbow was the wrong word. Rainbows were bright. Vivid. Colourful.
Her world was just a thousand shades of grey.
Dark, dark grey.
She had begun checking her mobile phone, just looking to see if perhaps Campbell had tried to call her again.
He hadn’t.
Not since she had stupidly ignored his previous efforts to reach out to her.
But why not?
She had been thinking a lot about what he had said. About his version of events. About his infidelity.
Perhaps she had been too harsh.
Just perhaps.
Most of her still screamed that he was a bastard. A right royal, unfaithful bloody bastard. But, and this was the worst part … she missed him.
And she needed him, so very, very much.
Campbell was a strong man. He oozed calm and inner strength. Both of which she needed now.
More tears rolled down her cheeks and she did nothing this time to stop them or wipe them away.
For days now she’d done her best to keep control. To maintain a stiff upper lip. Not to be weak. To think positively.
But as the clock on the stair struck the half-hour and she heard the chimes reverberate around her large, empty house, it all became too much. A fountain of tears welled up within her and caught her off-guard. But she did nothing to try and stop them.
Her chest shook violently as a wave of emotion washed through her.
The house was no longer quiet. She filled the silence with her anguish and grief, and fear.
It was not fair. None of this was fair.
To lose your child, your husband and your future all at once…
How could God ever allow so much suffering for one person? HOW?
“WHY ME!” she exclaimed and sobbed loudly at the top of her voice.
The tears flowed and for a while she lost control of herself.
And didn’t care.
Only much later did the tears stop and the s
adness abate. Temporarily.
Enough for her to realise once again that she was alone in her home.
She was lonely. So, so lonely.
She picked up the phone again and checked it one more time.
Soon. Soon. He must call again soon.
Exhausted. Tired. And with no single reason to keep her eyes open, she closed them tightly and for the first time in her life, wished that she was dead.
--------------------
Plockton
Scotland
10.30 p.m.
Alessandra lay on her bed. Thinking.
In the past few minutes, the complexity of her life had just increased, officially.
Her offer to accept the contract to terminate Tommy McNunn within HMP Stirling had just been accepted.
Everything was suddenly becoming very real to her.
Although no absolute time-limit had been set, she was now contracted to kill two people in Scotland.
One a serving senior police officer, the other a serving prisoner.
According to the terms of the contract, another million pounds would shortly be arriving in her bank accounts, and she would then be obliged to carry out the hit, lest she ruin her reputation, or subsequently become the target of a contract herself, for failure to complete.
For a few moments, lying on her back and facing the ceiling, she wondered if she had perhaps for once bitten off more than she could chew.
How the hell was she going to kill someone in a high-security male prison?
However, although she currently had no idea how it could be done, she was quietly confident, as ever, that given time, focus and sufficient planning, she would find a way. She always did.
But one thing was for sure just now.
There would be no more Loch Ness, or "Faith Healing" nonsense.
At least for the foreseeable future.
She had to concentrate now.
Focus.
Research.
Think.
Plan.
And kill people.
Her phone rang.
She picked it up from where it was lying on the mattress beside her.
Only a few people had the new number she was using, so she knew it could only be one of them.
She was right.
"Hi Gavin, how are you?"
"It's late. I know. I was just worried about you."
"I'm just lying in bed. So you haven't woken me up or anything."
"In the caravan?"
She wondered whether or not to tell him. "I'm back up in Plockton. I wanted to do some more sailing."
"Ah..., I stopped by yesterday..., on the off chance I might catch you. I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me again sometime?"
Alessandra smiled to herself. Over the past few days she had thought more than once about him. He was a good looking, fit young man. Intelligent. And oozing charm and sex appeal. And the truth of the situation was that Alessandra had not slept with anyone for months. She was definitely tempted. On top of everything else, she had to admit to herself that there was a connection between the two of them. There was definitely the potential for something interesting there. But only minutes before she had promised herself that she would put Loch Ness behind her. And that included Gavin.
"I'd like that." She heard herself saying in defiance of her better judgement. "But I can't say when. I'm going to be here for a while out on a boat, and then I'll be travelling around the North. I've always fancied seeing John O'Groats."
"It’s a bit of an anti-climax to be honest. There’s nothing there."
"So I've heard. But it's on my bucket list. Anyway, you haven’t answered my question."
“What question?”
"How are you?”
“Oh. Good. But before we get onto me, do you have any idea when you’ll be back? Should I rent the caravan out to anyone else?"
Alessandra hesitated. "I've paid upfront for three months and I'll be back before then. Probably next month."
"Actually, beyond three months it’s difficult to predict whether there’ll still be any caravans left at the Loch Ness Hilton."
"What do you mean?"
"The landowner’s informed us he’s now definitely going to sell the land as soon as possible."
"I'd heard that from Lisa."
"But before it was just a warning. Now he's given us a proper formal warning of his intentions. A sale’s imminent."
"Can he just kick you off the land? Surely not!"
"None of us have got the money or the inclination to fight a long legal battle. The folk at the Hilton are mostly there to avoid stress, not confront it. They’d all give up without a whimper. It's really annoying though, because in the contract we have with him, when he originally set it up he wanted to give the community security, so it states that whereas the owner has the right to sell the land if he so chooses, should he die at any time, ownership of the land would automatically be transferred to the community. The gift was his idea...bizarre as it is."
"You mean, if he died tomorrow, or before the sale went through, he couldn't sell it?" she interrupted him.
"Right. It would belong to the community, to be shared by anyone who lives there, in perpetuity."
Alessandra went silent for a moment, considering the news she had just learned, and its implications. "So why did he change his mind?"
"Don't know. Something's different but he won't discuss it. His whole demeanour's changed. He just seems such a sad old man now..."
"You know where he lives?"
"Yep, I deal with him regularly. Why?"
"I just wondered..." she lied. "Anyway," she continued, trying to change the subject and distract further possible discussion on an obvious solution to the whole problem, "how are Lisa and Robert? Have you seen them?"
"Yesterday, actually. Lisa seems to be as high as a kite, happier than I've ever seen her, and Robert has taken up jogging. It's incredible. If I could find out what he's on, I want some of it!"
"And Sally?"
"Not so happy, ... I think Lisa and her have had a falling out of some kind. It's none of my business. But you haven't heard the big news, have you?"
"What news?"
"Did you ever meet Megan? The old lady with the green dyed hair? A bit out-there, but very sweet?"
"I've seen her..."
"Well, she saw the Lady of the Loch yesterday. She was walking her little dog along the beach past the church, and saw her rise out of the water and glide along the surface for several minutes. The press have gone to town on her. They're turning up from all over the world to interview her. You're missing it all!"
"You think she really saw it?"
"She swears she did. I can't see any reason for her to make it up."
"What about the fact that it draws attention to the community at a time when you're all threatened with eviction?"
"I hadn't thought of it like that. Perfect timing, but I can't imagine her planning something like that."
"Or maybe 'Nessie' decided to make an appearance, all by herself, to help save the community." Alessandra paused. "Whatever happened, you guys need to get organised and take advantage of the attention all the press are going to give this. It's a gift horse you can't ignore..."
"You've got a point... I'll talk to them.” He paused. “Better go. But I’ll look forward to seeing you again. Shame it won’t be till next month.”
He had put his cards on the table. Maybe she should too.
“Gavin, I'm not who you think I am."
"Alice, I don't know who you are. But the point is, I'd like to find out. If you'd let me."
Silence.
"I can't promise anything."
"I'm not asking you to. But if you get hungry, lonely, or inquisitive, will you call me?"
Alessandra couldn't help but smile. She wanted to say yes, but she'd just persuaded herself to forget all about Loch Ness and the people she'd met there. This was not part of the plan.
"I will," s
he replied before she knew it.
Then hung up.
That last thing she needed now was any form of complications like Gavin.
Although she knew, deep down, that it was already too late.
Chapter 20
Stirling
Friday 5 p.m.
Alessandra had left Plockton early the next morning. Before she'd left, she'd stopped by Young Angus's house and apologised once more for the fiasco the night before. She'd given him a hug and a new bottle of Drum Dregg.
Thankfully, it had been a clear drive down to Stirling, where she'd had lunch and made a few phone calls, finally booking herself into a small hotel in a scenic mountain area north of Stirling called 'The Trossachs'. Close enough to be near Stirling, but far enough away to be a decent distance from the scene of her next crime-to-be.
The journey down south from Loch Ness had taken almost four hours, and during that time she had thought long and hard about the coming weeks ahead.
She'd decided that if possible, she would take care of McNunn first, primarily because not only was it bound to be the hardest target, but it also paid the most.
Alessandra was a business woman. Neither of the targets meant anything to her, so given the choice, she'd go with the money first.
Having taken care of some other minor preparations, she drove towards the prison where Tommy McNunn was locked up, and having approached as close as she felt comfortable, drove around for several hours, familiarising herself with the area, and studying the prison from all angles.
The prison was built up on a small hill, with two impressive cliffs at the rear and side of it. The building itself comprised two main wings, each of about four floors. An image of the German prisoner of war camp 'Colditz' sprang to mind as she looked at it. Presumably built in the late 19th Century, it was a solid, strong building and Alessandra could immediately see the difficulty she had let herself in for. And why Scotland considered this to be one of its most secure prisons.
Surrounded by high walls, fences, natural cliffs, and a sloping hill, getting into the prison would be tough enough. Getting out would be akin to breaking out of Alcatraz.
So, how on earth was she meant to kill someone on the inside?
The Assassin's Gift Page 19
