‘Glad to know you care,’ he says.
‘You know I do,’ Subra says. ‘Come to me and I’ll show you how much.’
He looks at the blood spatters on her clothing and doesn’t reply.
‘You’re so squeamish,’ Subra says. ‘It’s funny really.’
‘Well, I wasn’t brought up like you were,’ he says.
‘Subra!’ calls Caleb from the room, ‘He’s awake.’
‘Time for another round,’ Subra says.
Solomon grimaces.
‘Do I disgust you so much?’ she says, her face serious now.
‘It’s not that you can torture someone,’ Solomon says. ‘It’s that you enjoy it.’
Subra laughs and goes back into the room.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Solomon
Solomon Granger watches Subra go back into the room, then he takes himself out of the hut because he has no stomach to hear any more of Armin’s screams. He can’t help feeling disgust for what Subra does.
He walks away and back to his own small quarters, a tiny hut at the back of the camp.
He was twenty when he met Subra, a sophisticated and beautiful woman, ten years his senior at the time. Solomon was besotted with her from the start. That was fifteen years ago now, and if he’d known then what she’d turn him into, Solomon would have turned and walked away. At least he liked to believe he would.
They’d been living together for five years before he discovered the truth about her. She earned her significant salary by working for a corporation. It meant a lot of travel, and Solomon had had to cope with her frequent absences. But she always came home and showered him with love and passion and so he’d thought their relationship was perfect. Subra told him all about the prejudice she’d suffered for her race and colour. Solomon understood because his black skin had often brought him similar disdain. He became a warrior to defend her rights. He’d even started a fight with someone who he thought looked at her with contempt in a bar.
‘My hero,’ she’d said afterwards with a smile, as she pressed a bag of ice to his bruised and swollen eye. He didn’t learn until much later that the whole racist incident had been a set-up to make sure she had him willing to do anything for her.
When she told him of her ‘real’ job, Solomon had laughed, taking it as some sort of silly joke. He’d never quite got her sense of humour anyway. But Subra, an assassin? It was just too impossible to consider.
She’d taken him to the House then. A place he only vaguely remembered. They showed him things, talked to him, gave him some sort of medication. Then they started training him. When he returned to her six months later, he knew she’d told him the truth and he was more than willing to do whatever she said, as long as she never sent him back to the House.
Subra continued his education after that. They’d picked him for his IT skills, and hacking was high on the list of things he was encouraged to do. Then, when she thought he was ready, she put him under cover.
For the past three years Solomon has been living in England under the name Jay Astor. Astor was a young air steward when Subra had him replaced by Solomon. At least Solomon thought that Astor must have been a real person, but he was never too sure on that score. Subra was able to summon identities out of nowhere. And as Solomon submerged himself into Astor’s world – all for the love of Subra – he often wondered why no ‘real’ friends and acquaintances of Astor’s ever came forward.
He’d been resistant to playing this role until Subra explained that he only had to ‘pretend’ and didn’t have to have a same-sex relationship to prove himself. They set up a folder full of photographs of Jay with various men, on holidays and in clubs and bars. Jay used them randomly on the social media account they’d set up. But it was all faked, even down to most of the ‘friends’ that regularly interacted with him, liking and commenting on his posts. But to a certain extent he began to believe that this was who he was. He had to in order to be taken seriously.
As Jay, he started a new role with British Airways. Then, he moved over to Zen Airlines at the same time that Subra brought someone in to take over Angela Carter’s life.
Solomon had accepted the woman as his colleague on the flight and they acted like old friends. As he got used to her as the real Angela’s replacement, they spent the past few months doing the job like real flight attendants, and, when they were in Shanghai, hanging out, eating great local food and enjoying themselves during their rest days.
When Subra gave them the go-ahead, Jay hacked into the onboard system, and Angie (as he called her to distinguish from the real Angela he knew) had delighted in taking over the plane.
Angie, he suspected, was just like Subra deep down. She had no qualms about killing. Armin had been the target, everyone else on board was expendable but Subra had smoothed over that part of the plan. Solomon had only learned the truth when Angie shot the pilot and co-pilot, and put a fake announcement through the Tannoy system to keep the passengers calm until they had time to put them, and the crew, to sleep.
‘But how did you answer as the co-pilot?’ he’d asked after Shelley, another innocent to die for this cause, had called the cockpit directly.
‘Voice changer,’ Angie had said.
It had all been so meticulously planned, and most of it a total surprise to Solomon.
Lying on his bunk, Solomon recalls those last few moments. The terrified interference from Shelley. . . All of it was such a clusterfuck. He hadn’t wanted to kill the girl, but they couldn’t leave her on board in case she found a way to raise the alarm and get help. Plus, he was afraid to show that he disapproved in case it got back to Subra.
‘For what it’s worth,’ Angie had said after she pushed Shelley out of the plane, ‘no one but us and our passenger there is getting off this plane alive. So she’d have died anyway.’
Solomon had liked Angie. For the most part they’d had a casual friendship while they played their roles. They never discussed the mission until the day they were activated to do it. Each of them knew what their roles would be and talking about it hadn’t been necessary. He’d been shocked by how cold and deadly Angie was in the end though. He’d thought her like himself, a hacker working for Subra and ultimately the Network. But she was so much more than that. Through Angie he learned that taking Armin had been something Subra had set up for her own agenda and the Network knew nothing about it. Through Angie he also saw what Subra really was and he realised that she wasn’t the woman he fell in love with.
Solomon recalled Angie strapping Armin to him. She’d given him careful instructions.
‘We’re approaching the rendezvous point in the next ten minutes. Don’t hesitate when I tell you to go.’
Solomon wasn’t even nervous about skydiving because he’d practised every week over the last six months, even with another diver attached to him. Subra didn’t take chances and she’d made sure that Solomon was up to the job and would survive the mission. He’d thought it was because she cared about him.
Then, as the time came, Angie told him the release cord had come free on her parachute.
‘You have to jump without me,’ she’d said.
‘But what about you? Come with me! The chute can hold us all!’
‘Getting Armin out is priority,’ she’d said. ‘You go, I’ll make the plane circle round to give me time to fix it, then I’ll follow.’
Solomon had jumped when instructed. He landed in the water, just off target, but Subra’s men were there with a boat, dragging him and the unconscious Armin out before they could get into difficulty.
‘Angie had some trouble…’ he’d explained.
They waited to see the plane circle back. At the right moment Angie had leapt out, but the parachute didn’t open. She plummeted fast. Solomon couldn’t watch. She’d been so brave and Solomon knew that in the end she’d sacrificed herself for the mission.
Even though the boat went out to search for her, they never found her body.
The plane h
ad been set a new course and it continued on. Solomon didn’t know where she’d programmed it to come down, or if it would even reach that point. As the men rode away from the rendezvous area, he put it from his mind with thoughts of seeing Subra again. After what she’d made him do, he was no longer sure how he felt about her.
After that, he and Armin were bundled onto yet another flight and brought to this place. All he knew now was that he was somewhere in Israel. Until today, he hadn’t seen Subra for a long time. Three years away from her direct influence was a long time, and Solomon had built another life until she activated him.
Now, as Solomon assesses his feelings for her, there is a knock at his cabin door. He gets up from the uncomfortable bunk. He opens the door to see Subra there. She’s changed her clothes.
‘Come on,’ she says.
She takes him to her car. ‘Get in. You’re coming with me now.’
Solomon does as she says. He sees himself as a puppet and she is holding his strings. He’s never been able to resist Subra or refuse to do anything she’s asked. And now he really knows what she’s capable of, he is also afraid of her.
Subra gets into the car beside him and so does one of the security men. The car pulls away, leaving the camp behind them.
Solomon remains silent as they drive back towards Jerusalem but he stares out of the window, looking at the barren desert landscape as they approach Subra’s home.
The SUV aircon dries the sweat-stained shirt on Solomon’s back, temporarily soothing him while the car pulls into the compound and up to the house. The door beside him opens as soon as the vehicle stops, and Solomon steps out into the oven-hot air. Perspiration beads on his brow. His body begins to sweat again and he wipes his palms on his jeans.
Subra takes his sweaty hand and leads him inside the house and straight upstairs.
‘Freshen up, Sol,’ she says at the bedroom door. ‘You’ve been through a lot, but you did a great job. Now take this as time to rest.’
Solomon goes inside. The air conditioning is on and he stands for a moment in the middle of the clean, fresh, cool room, enjoying the chill on his skin. He strips off his clothes and goes into the ensuite bathroom. He showers, washing away the desert dust. When he comes out, he finds clean clothing left on the bed.
Downstairs he wanders through the big house until he finds the kitchen. A bi-fold door opens onto a long wide garden: an oasis in the desert with bright green lawn, regularly watered. Solomon sees a row of orange trees to one side and a row of olive trees on the other. On a little patio under a broad parasol is a rattan sofa, and Subra is there, waiting for him.
‘Feel better?’ she asks.
The shower has helped to clear away his discomfort. Subra has changed again and her hair is damp. She’s wearing a white cotton kaftan. He can see the dark ridge of her perfect nipples through the fabric. Solomon remembers why he’s done everything she ever asked of him. He loves her and yes, there is need, a hunger for her that he had almost forgotten in his enforced separation from her.
‘Come to me, my boy,’ she says.
Trembling like a junkie ready to get his next fix, Solomon falls to his knees before her. She is his queen; a goddess. Her eyes are warm as she gazes into his upturned face and her welcoming lips meet his.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Michael
‘An interesting twist has occurred,’ Ray says as we gather in his office around the conference table. He pauses for impact, making sure he has our full attention. ‘We confirmed yesterday that the corpse found in the boot of her car was indeed Angela Carter.’
‘How was she identified?’ I ask.
‘Carter was caught with cannabis when she was at university. She was given a warning but her fingerprints were on record,’ Ray explains. ‘With this new information, Brinkman was able to confirm that Carter’s fingerprints were all over Astor’s apartment.’
‘Everywhere?’ asks Beth before I do. ‘And in the bedroom?’
‘Yes,’ says Ray.
What does this mean? Were Carter and Astor more than colleagues? Were they sleeping together?
‘I’m going to need you to do a profile of Astor. I think it’s safe to conclude that he and Carter’s double were working together,’ Ray says. ‘Given that he knew the real Carter, and yet didn’t “out” the double when she took over.’
I nod. ‘Definitely. We need to explore what kind of relationship he had with the original Carter too. It might explain why she was picked.’
‘Perhaps when we get into his laptop, we’ll find out more,’ says Beth.
But something is bothering me, I don’t know why. Another hunch, another itch in the back of my head that I can’t quite scratch. I have questions but they are not for my colleagues: I hope Neva can answer them. Then I can draw all of this together in one final conclusion that will help us find the flight or at least learn what happened to it.
‘Was there any DNA on the toothbrush we found?’ Beth asks.
‘Yes,’ says Ray. ‘It belonged to real Angela. So no new lead there with our doppelgänger.’
‘That’s a shame,’ says Beth.
I ask about the physical searches for the plane.
‘Still no sign of it,’ says Leon. ‘It’s like the Malaysia Airlines fiasco all over again. I doubt we’ll ever know what happened.’
Back in my office, I receive Baker’s autopsy report via email. Baker confirms my observations on Stanners’s death. The only anomaly is that the man had pancreatic cancer. He wouldn’t have been aware of any symptoms for a few more weeks, except for perhaps a drop in appetite, but Stanners was dying and he wouldn’t have seen the year out. There is a poetic sort of justice in this that isn’t lost on me: if Olive did kill her father, she probably saved him from worse suffering. I feel a strange kinship with the woman that was once Georgia Stanners and I hope she will get in touch with me in the future. And if she does, I doubt I’ll tell her that Stanners was ill – why rub salt into the wound?
‘I’m going out with Leon to search Minchin’s house,’ Beth tells me. ‘I won’t be back in today as I have plans this evening.’
With Ray sequestered with Brinkman, I’m left to wade through more paperwork and reports that may shed some light on our investigations. I find out all I can about the parents of Network assassins, ready to take this investigation forward. All the time worrying that these enquiries could lead to more death.
In the meantime, Brinkman, Ray, Leon and Beth are all taken up with the continued search for Zen Airlines Flight 723. I’m not holding out any hope of it being found. And the crew and passengers’ disappearance will be forever buried in the need for secrecy.
When the day ends, I take the tube home as I’m in no rush to get back to another evening alone. After being stuck behind my desk all day, walking through the snaking passages of the tube station, and then from there to home, will at least give me some exercise as well as thinking time.
My mind is full of the mysteries we need to solve and as I always do, I mull over the reports, files and reams of information I’ve been looking through, trying to find anything that will give us a lead on either case.
On the tube, I find a seat and observe the pulse of life entering and leaving as the train stops at the stations. I people watch. There’s a cute girl in a tartan coat, with a matching hat, holding onto the rail by one of the doors. A young couple get on with a baby in a buggy. I notice a man sitting further down the carriage engrossed in a popular paperback. Unlike myself he is not counting down the stops to his own exit. I idly consider that he’ll be getting off at the end of the line and doesn’t have to think about where the train is.
My stop, I think as the train pulls into the platform. I get up and walk to the doors. The train halts, the doors open and I leave. I feel the rustle of movement around me and glance backwards. The man with the paperback is leaving the train too. He’s not looking at me, but he’s equally not concealed: he’s doing just what any good spy would do – hiding in pl
ain sight. I pretend not to notice him as I climb the steps and head towards the tube exit.
My apartment is a good ten minutes’ walk from the station. I stride at a normal pace until I reach the main road, stopping at the crossing. It’s at this time that I can cast my eyes left and right, and I see him there again in my peripheral vision.
I’m definitely being followed.
But this is not one of the lackadaisical operatives that Archive have put on me before. This is a professional.
I take my phone out of my pocket and send Beth a text. Tell Ray I’m onto the new tail. I thought I was trusted now?
I press send, because I feel aggrieved. I haven’t checked my apartment, but I’d believed they really had taken out the wires and I was no longer being watched. I’m annoyed that they have lied to me.
As I head home, I begin to worry that they know Neva is back in touch. Maybe it was even MI5 that tried to capture her recently and not Network operatives. If this is so, then I somehow need to warn her that our tenuous relationship has been exposed.
My phone rings and it’s Beth.
‘What is this about, Mike?’ she says.
‘I’m being followed. But you know that,’ I say. I describe the man to her.
‘It’s not us,’ she says. ‘I don’t like the sound of this. Get home and stay inside. I’m going to ring Ray now.’
I hang up as the crossing lights turn red and I’m able to cross the road. Beth could be lying, but I thought I heard genuine concern in her voice. I don’t take my usual route home, instead I take a long meandering journey, sticking to the main roads. I reach my street a little later than usual.
I speed up now, because the road is fairly empty, and I hurry into the building and head straight to the elevator. Before the doors close, I see the man passing the front of the building. He glances in at me. Then away.
Kill or Die Page 18
