by David Caris
‘Like I said, he –’
‘– jumped off a roof. Yeah, sure. He tied himself to the heater, too, presumably?’
Kovac caught the driver’s eye in the rear-view, and the man quickly broke contact. ‘That’s right,’ Kovac mumbled, ‘safety first, asshole. Eyes on the road.’
They drove in silence for a few minutes, aware the driver was all too interested in their conversation. Kovac stared out his window, up past tiled roofs and silhouetted aerials to a thin moon made fuzzy by cloud and rain. Light gleamed on the wet blacktop and the tires hissed loudly now that they had some speed. They passed a majestic old tavern on one corner, the trees around it all lit up bright. There had been a time in his life when he loved London. But now, as with so many other places, so many other things, its beauty didn’t elicit much of anything in him. It was as if London was tarnished, and why not? How many people had he killed here over the years…?
The driver turned left, then right, then drove straight for a while. More turns came in quick succession, then a lot more mindless driving. He kept glancing back. ‘This okay?’ he finally asked. ‘You just want me to keep driving like this?’
‘You can let us out here,’ Kovac said. He reached forward and handed the man a fifty pound note. ‘We’ll be five minutes, ten tops. There’s another fifty quid in it for you if you wait.’
Chapter 27
“Here” was a back street. They had found their way into a deserted stretch of road: trees on one side, elevated train line on the other. On the tree side, there were a few parked cars, but no occupants and no pedestrians. On the train side, it was solid brick. Old brick, Kovac noted. Stained and shadowy brick, with graffiti – the mindless, tagging type.
The train line was perhaps twenty feet up, on a brick wall that was as tall and thick as housing. This brick foundation the line sat on was obviously hollow underneath and used for some kind of storage, because it had roller doors every ten feet or so.
Kovac got out and crossed to the nearest roller door, which was framed by crack weeds and decorated with a sprinkling of cigarette butts. A few solitary street lights sent his shadow up the wall, and he watched as Megan’s slid in beside it.
They stood like this, like a pair of smokers observing company regulations to smoke outside, but without cigarettes. The driver sat in his seat, slightly hunched, peering out at them. ‘He thinks we’re crazy,’ Megan said.
‘Most excitement he’s had in months. He’ll be telling his whole family about this tomorrow.’
She didn’t laugh. ‘My bodyguard said you had a golf club?’
‘And?’
‘What was that for?’
‘Waking up dopey.’ Kovac chewed at his lip and glanced up at the cloud overhead. The rain had eased again, but he doubted it would hold. He figured he should get to the point, so he said: ‘It’s simple, Megan. Really simple. I don’t want to kill anymore.’
‘Okay.’
‘I don’t even want to hurt people. I don’t want to be drawing lines in the sand.’
She gave him a small nod.
‘Kicking someone in the spine is okay, a golf club isn’t. Women maybe, children never… That way lies insanity. The job I did, I’ve realized it’s an all-or-nothing kind of deal. Either I’m doing it – and I’m completely willing to do it, and I’m doing it as well as I can – or I’m out.’
‘And you’re out.’
‘That’s right.’
Megan shifted her weight and took a deep breath. She said: ‘Is it what happened in Japan? With the woman? And the other women from your file? I went back over it. There are five in total, from age thirteen up. Most of it’s redacted but –’
‘I only killed two of those five.’
As Kovac had predicted, the rain started up again. He hunched and rubbed at his bottom lip – at the faint stubble just beneath it. He felt the drops striking the back of his neck, small and sharp but not too cold. He went to speak but his mouth suddenly felt dry and gluggy. The salt from the KFC probably.
He scrunched his face. He didn’t want to talk about any of this. He wanted a shower and sleep. But he knew if he was honest with Megan now, it just might pay off. She might actually let him go, just as Bishop had seemed to do until this latest mess.
‘Which two?’ she asked.
‘Bennett from Japan, which I regret obviously. And then one other, who… well, who I thought deserved it.’
‘Bennett I know about. But not the other woman. Not in detail. Why did you do it?’
He pretended she had asked how. How was always easier to answer. ‘A bolt-action sniper rifle.’ He closed his eyes and recalled calmly leading Rose with his crosshairs. ‘Headshot.’ He opened his eyes again and glanced at Megan. ‘Cuenca, Spain.’
She nodded and started walking away from the Uber. She led him to a rail bridge on rust-brown metal girders which spanned a break in the brick foundation and provided passage for a road and T-intersection. ‘And the three in Bratislava?’ she said, when they stopped under the bridge.
‘Not me.’ His voice echoed slightly in this new, half-enclosed location.
‘Then who?’ Megan asked.
‘There a point to this? Or are you just taking a stab at therapy here?’
Megan gave him a shrug. ‘Maybe both.’
‘You think you can change my mind with a quick chat under a rail bridge? I’ve thought about this from every angle, Megan.’
‘Have you though? If your name gets out, you die, John. Do you get that? You can’t be fine with that.’
‘Can’t I?’
She tensed her jaw. ‘Okay, talk me through that. Explain the logic.’
‘Another Bennett,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I’m fine with it, because there isn’t another Bennett this way.’
‘That was an accident, John.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘John isn’t my fucking name, Megan. You know my name. If you want to build trust, use –’
‘No. I’ll call you Kovac.’
‘Suit yourself. And as far as Bennett goes, jury’s out. You say accident. I say only Bishop knows for sure and he’s not here. So… pointless to discuss it.’
She blinked, perhaps taken aback by the sudden seething anger in his words. ‘What are you suggesting exactly?’
‘I’m suggesting there were plenty of opportunities for people to just step up and tell me what was going on. No one did.’
‘And you would’ve trusted that?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Bishop doesn’t like maybes. You know that. As for Bennett, I didn’t know her. I can’t speak to her state of mind, but if I had to stab you with something, safe to say I’d be scared.’
A car passed, with a male driver who showed no interest in them. Kovac positioned himself at the corner of the street and the bridge-come-underpass and watched it depart. Its tires struck a wide puddle and threw water back towards the trees in a neat arc, and a moment later it was gone. He noted the details in case he ever saw it again.
Megan waited for him to say something and when he didn’t she dropped against the wall, resting her weight on one shoulder and facing him. ‘Look at me,’ she said.
He glanced at her.
‘The woman you shot with the sniper rifle, you think that was different, right? Tell me how.’
‘She was like me.’
‘A fixer?’
‘Right.’
‘We employed her?’
‘Yeah. Sometimes. Not to kill, though. I liked her. She was French American, a fun person to be around. And she was good at her job. I trusted her.’
‘So what went wrong?’
‘Bratislava.’
The Uber driver half got out of his car. With one hand on the roof, he called out to them. ‘You two done or what?’
‘Almost,’ Kovac yelled back.
The man shrugged and got back into his car, his door shutting with a snap that suggested he had put some real strength into it. ‘We shou
ld go before this guy drives off,’ Kovac said. He started away from the bridge, but Megan reached out and grabbed his upper arm. ‘Wait.’
‘What?’
‘What went wrong in Bratislava?’
Kovac sighed. ‘It was a messy job from the start. It was me, with Rose helping me. Not a hit. An abduction. The long and the short of it, we picked the wrong location. We also went for the target too early in the evening. Three teenage girls stumbled across us.’
‘As it was happening?’
‘Right. They saw me and Rose.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I went and spoke to them. They were even younger than I thought. One of them looked like a baby sister, thirteen according to your records, but all dressed up and out for a night on the town. Her older sister was sixteen and her friend was seventeen. I never got the exact age of the thirteen-year-old until after, because she didn’t have any identification. But the other two were old enough to scare easy. They handed over their ID when I asked for it because there was a guy lying just off the path with a hole in his head, still squirting.’
‘I thought you said it wasn’t a hit.’
‘It wasn’t. But I was planning to make it one when I got him out of Bratislava. I fucked up. Rose and I got too close. It’s the one and only time I’ve said too much to an outsider. She figured out that Curzon wanted this guy dead, and she took the opportunity to impress me, to show me she could help on every kind of mission. It’s the same thing you’ve got going on with Ben Lewis now. You’ll need to watch him.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind. What happened after?’
Kovac sighed, as if thinking back on it. ‘So suddenly there I was, holding a pistol. Rose, too. And a dead guy on the ground. It was a pretty easy decision for the three girls. I photographed their ID and told them if they spoke to anyone, I’d find them and kill them. Pretty standard really. They agreed. What else were they going to do? For that matter, what else was I going to do?’
‘And then?’
‘A few days later I read about three girls being abducted. Same three. That was bad enough. I knew as soon as I read it there was no hope. I knew they were dead. But that was only the start. It became one of those things where the whole community pitches in to help. For a little while, it captivated the whole of the Czech Republic practically.’
‘Were they ever found?’
‘Yeah. But not right away. They were found a few months later not too far from a forest trail. They were found pretty soon after being dumped. The thing is, they weren’t executed. Maybe I could’ve got my head around Rose doing that. I’m a professional, she wanted Curzon to know she was too. Our greatest asset is anonymity, and it needs to be protected. Not at any cost, but back then I might’ve been willing to accept a higher cost than now.’
Megan seemed to understand what he was getting at. ‘How did they die?’
Kovac didn’t want to tell her. But he knew he couldn’t explain his own actions without detailing Rose’s. ‘She staged it as three sexual assault victims. She put a lot of thought and effort into it, and the nation became convinced it was looking for a man. A week after that, they were handed their man. A suicide, with the guy detailing everything he’d done to the girls over a span of months. His DNA matched, locations matched, everything. A slam dunk for detectives.’
Megan looked confused. ‘Rose was a sadist?’
‘No. I think she grabbed the girls planning to put a bullet in their heads and get out of the country, but the alarm was raised quicker than she expected. She knew better than to panic and rush it. She slowed down, thought it through, took her time even as the media frenzy grew. She built the story everyone expected, and handed the whole thing to the police and media as a package with a bow on top. By the time she slipped out of the country, it was over. The funerals, the investigation, the suicide. No one had any questions left, which is how things get forgotten.’
Megan nodded. ‘The man was just a scapegoat.’
‘No, he did it. He did it all. Everything he confessed to. But I doubt he wanted to. And he sure as hell didn’t commit suicide.’
‘Why would she do all that?’
‘She was showing Bishop and your father that she was better at cleaning up loose ends.’ Kovac realized he was done explaining. He exited the cover of the bridge and started at a brisk pace back to the Uber driver’s waiting car.
‘There’s nothing I can do to convince you?’ Megan asked, following.
‘Nothing.’
‘Where will you go?’
There wasn’t much point lying to her. Bishop clearly knew where Kovac had been living. Megan probably knew too. ‘I was renting a place before this. I’m thinking I’ll go back there. The police don’t know about it. So I figure it’ll be fine for one more night. It’ll raise fewer flags than my other options at this point, short of sleeping on the street.’
He finished the walk to the Uber. When he reached it, he opened the door and gestured for Megan to get in. Megan did. She looked up.
Kovac stood at the open door, his elbow to the top of its frame, staring down and in. He was reminded of the way Anna and Bennett had sat in the back of the stolen vehicle in Tokyo, in the underground parking lot. He moved to shut the door, but Megan said: ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’
‘What?’
‘On the couch. It’d help me out, Kovac. I need somewhere to lie low as well. Leaving to come here and search for you, there was already the beginnings of a media throng outside my apartment. I’m going to have to deal with the media soon enough and step back into the CEO role, but one night off – to be able to sleep, to be able to think and prepare – we could call it a parting gift?’
‘You can get a hotel for that.’
‘We both know I can’t. They’ll find me.’
There was a lot Kovac was yet to tell her, starting with the fact Griffin and Malone had chosen pain over talking. There was the laundered cash, there was all the computer equipment, and there was the camera on its tripod.
He realized one night might make sense – for Megan and for him. A handover of sorts. And so long as he had Megan, he could be sure Curzon wasn’t a threat. She would guarantee him tonight to prepare for his exit from London. Then she would return to the limelight, and he would vanish into the shadows. He would drop off the grid properly this time, too...
‘I’m waiting on more information from Griffin,’ she said. ‘Juliette’s trying to get it for me as a priority. Griffin’s employment record, and details of the other coders she worked with. I’ll have it by morning, and you can advise me on next steps. I’ll take it from there.’
‘Bishop can do that.’ Kovac shut the door and started walking. As he knew would happen, the car started tailing him, rolling at two or three miles per hour, matching his pace perfectly. He counted out thirty steps, and when the car didn’t speed up and drive off he stepped back towards it and opened the door. ‘Enough,’ he said.
‘Bishop’s gone.’
‘What do you mean gone?’
‘I don’t know. For all I know, he’s dead. You want the truth, that’s what brought me out here, looking for you. I don’t know who else to trust, Kovac, and I’m scared.’
He thought for a beat, then cursed under his breath. ‘One night only.’ He slid down into the car. He pulled the door shut and gave the driver the address for the house he was renting along with one hundred pounds. ‘An extra fifty on top of what we agreed, for you to forget meeting me,’ he said. ‘And if you don’t forget, I’ll know about it and demand more than a refund.’
‘Thank you,’ Megan said.
‘For what? You didn’t give me a choice.’ Kovac sat back and positioned his pistol so it was comfortable. He softened his tone a bit. ‘We both know you were just going to follow me home anyway.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘To help?’ Kovac smiled, and made a snap decision to get in a run first thing in the morning. ‘Yeah, one thing.’
&n
bsp; ‘Name it.’
‘Assuming a nanny taught you how to shop and cook at some point in your cloistered little existence, you can organize breakfast.’
Chapter 28
Kovac used an alarm to wake early. He had slept in the spare room and he didn’t disturb Megan as he dressed for a jog. He stepped out into fresh dawn air. He felt good, aside from some residual pain in his jaw. He had slept well even after the punishing from his Neanderthal, and it was great to be alive and heading into a sweat.
He clicked the front door locked behind him. He started off slow and ran the same route he had run the morning he saw the boy get shot. Down to the Themes, then through the series of parks lining it. There was no boy on the path today. There was however someone who didn’t belong.
Female, Kovac noted as he got closer. Standing exactly where the boy had stood when he died, albeit slightly back in shadow. A backpack on the grass just behind her. But no weapon.
She was focused on him.
He took in the slacks, flats and shirt. Semi-casual business attire, he decided, like she was on her way to a job in a government office. As he had done with the boy, Kovac dropped to a walk to pass this woman. He had his baseball cap on and he pulled it down again. He didn’t put his hands in his windbreaker pockets this time. He was wearing a more or less identical windbreaker – a spare, now acting as a replacement for the one he had lost – but today he had his pistol.
He looked straight ahead. In his peripheral vision, the woman stepped forward. ‘Sir,’ she said, revealing an Irish accent. ‘I need to speak to you.’
She had a pixie cut and the brightest blue eyes Kovac had ever seen. Kovac came to a wary stop. ‘About?’
‘Christopher Diaz.’
‘I don’t know a Christopher Diaz.’
‘The boy who was shot here.’ She braved a few more steps, then pointed at a faint stain well on up the path.
Kovac said, ‘I heard about it.’
