by John Marrs
After scrambling back to her feet, Emilia ran at breakneck speed towards the two cars, now only about a hundred metres ahead. Another rapid decision had to be made—which direction to go in? Right would take her out of town but give more options for an escape further afield; left meant heading towards the centre of town, where there was a higher density of people and more witnesses. There was also a better chance of locating a bolthole in which to lie low while figuring out what to do next. But the decision was snatched away when the doors of both vehicles opened.
Six new opponents stood their ground, each brandishing firearms. The odds of surviving this were infinitesimally small. She came to an abrupt, breathless halt. Whatever was coming next would be completely out of her control.
“Get inside, Emilia,” came a voice. An interior light illuminated the vehicle, revealing Bianca’s presence.
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Emilia panted.
“If your death had been part of the plan, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d be lying dead in the grounds of the hospital.”
Emilia turned to look again at her aggressors and had little choice but to comply. Inside, Bianca took a metallic hip flask from inside the armrest and offered it to Emilia as the car sped away.
“It has a light synthetic mood enhancer inside that’ll help to relax you. You’re in shock.”
“I don’t need to be sedated.”
“Every vital sign your smart watch is recording tells me differently. You have an elevated heart rate and high blood pressure, you’re sweating, and your breathing is rapid.”
“What do you expect?” Emilia tore the watch from her wrist and threw it into the footwell. “Why did you kill Ted? He was going to tell me who I was.”
“Hell was more likely to have frozen over before Edward Karczewski ever admitted that he knew your truths.”
Emilia faltered—she had never referred to him by his full name before, only the shortened form of Ted. But when Bianca said it, it sounded familiar, as if she had heard it in its entirety many times before.
“And by erasing him,” Bianca continued, “we are sending a message to the others—that we are coming for every last one of them. Those who know your true identity are buried deeply, Emilia, and Ted’s death will flush them out. Our deal still stands. We want to help you find the four who remain in the hope that one of them gives you the truth. Somewhere inside you, you know how to find and expose them.”
“How, when I don’t even know who the hell I am?” she asked, exasperated.
“We are confident that you will find a way.”
“And why would I want to? How do you expect me to live with myself, knowing that I’d be luring them to their deaths too? Because that’s what going to happen, isn’t it? You’re going to murder them too. Why?”
“They call these four people the Minders and they’re protecting something that doesn’t belong to them.”
“What is it?”
“Information of a sensitive nature that is of no use to you, or us even, but which the world will be a better place without.”
“According to who?”
“According to those of us who know what’s best for this country.”
“You’re not working for our or any other government, are you?”
The corners of Bianca’s lips rose. “No, Emilia, we most definitely are not.”
Emilia took a sharp intake of breath as the penny dropped. “I know who you are! I read about you while I was in hospital. You’re terrorists! You’re the Hacking Collective!”
“As I have explained before, who we are is of no consequence to you. You help us to find the four and you are free to try to get the truth from them about who you are. And once you are finished, then it becomes our turn. As long as they give us what we want, they’ll be allowed to live.”
“I don’t want any part of this.”
Bianca shrugged. “As I told you when we first met at the pub, you are free to leave at any time.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Emilia searched for the door-release button. “I’m sorry it hasn’t worked out,” Bianca added. “I wish you the best of luck out there. It is a pity, though. Watch.”
Bianca’s eyes moved to the windscreen, and Emilia’s followed. With the flick of a button, it became a television screen with the words “live feed” appearing in the top-left corner. Footage was being broadcast of a steep slope and a grassy playing field in the distance.
“Zoom in and split screen,” Bianca ordered, and the camera focused on a group of young people dressed in brightly coloured football strips, and two girls in particular. Their appearances were identical—they had the same strawberry-blond hair scraped back into ponytails and the same determined expressions. Their only differences were their coloured boots.
“Your daughters,” Bianca said without warning. “Cassie and Harper. And the man on the touchline with the dog by his feet, that’s your husband, Justin.”
Emilia gasped, her attention flitting between a slim, red-headed man and the girls. She was scared to blink in case they vanished as quickly as they had appeared.
“The scar across your belly that Ted told you was from being slashed by an employee?” continued Bianca. “That event happened but had nothing to do with you. You didn’t even work for a bank. Your wound is actually a Caesarean scar.”
Her mind raced and she desperately wanted to remember anything about them, but instead she drew a blank. However, she was convinced they were related because somewhere deep inside, Emilia knew she was watching family. The maternal force was too intense on sight alone for this to be a lie. She was a mother and a wife.
“Take aim,” Bianca added, and three red, circular dots appeared, one on each of Emilia’s family’s heads. “Snipers,” Bianca continued. “One word from me and all three will die here and now, right in front of you. What’s it to be? Will you be leaving or staying in the car?”
CHAPTER 41
BRUNO, OUNDLE, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE
She moved from room to room, completely unaware of Bruno’s presence.
From inside his parked car adjacent to her house, he watched carefully as she went about her business. Her property was palatial compared to his former bedsit. It was an immaculate detached Victorian building, renovated and stretching across three floors. The latest model of a top-of-the-range autonomous car was parked on her drive. His hackles rose as he calculated the value of her material possessions. I bet inside you’re as empty as me, he thought.
Karen Watson was the sixth and final name on his list. And by the end of the night, she would be dead.
It was the second time Bruno had been in her presence that day, and earlier he had been even closer to her than he was now. He’d volunteered to take a dog for a walk from a nearby homeless pet shelter, knowing from previous reconnaissance missions exactly where to find Watson. She was a creature of habit and took her golden retriever for a countryside walk every other day, choosing to sit on the same bench by the river Nene.
“Go and be a dog,” Bruno whispered into Oscar’s ear, and dropped the lead. Once Oscar clocked the other pet, he made a beeline for it. The retriever rose to its feet and the excitable pair began running circles around one another, their leads entwining.
Bruno fumbled with his jacket pocket and felt the shape of the hammer inside it. He hoped the dog was not aggressive as he would rather not kill that too.
“I am so sorry,” said Bruno as he approached Watson. He hoped that distracting her with Oscar would make it easier to strike quickly. However, a couple walking arm in arm slowly towards them put paid to that plan. For the moment, he would have to wait.
“Luna, come here!” Watson ordered, but her pet wasn’t listening. Soon, neither dog could move as their leads were wrapped around one another’s.
“I’
m a bit new to this,” Bruno continued, playing for time and feigning embarrassment as he began unravelling Oscar. “He belongs to a dogs’ shelter and I’ve volunteered to walk him.”
He caught a longer glimpse of her, his first close-up. She was a handful of years older than him, he knew that already, but she appeared younger. Her frame was slight and her smile kind. He hadn’t appreciated how striking she was each time he’d followed her from a distance. He blinked his attraction away.
“That’s a lovely thing to do,” Watson replied, her dog finally free. “Luna’s six but she still thinks she’s a puppy.”
Bruno suddenly became lost for words. Watson wasn’t like the others on his list. It wasn’t because she was the only woman, it was because she was . . . different . . . and he couldn’t put his finger on why. “She’s a beautiful girl” was the best he could manage.
He reciprocated the hellos the passing couple gave. If he killed Watson now, they could identify him. And when a line of schoolchildren and their teachers appeared, he knew his moment had passed.
“We’d best be heading home,” Watson said, and offered him a smile that he returned before she disappeared from view.
I know where that is, Bruno thought. Which brought him to where he was sitting now.
“Hey.”
The Echo startled Bruno. He turned quickly, taken aback to find a young boy with a missing jaw in the back seat of his vehicle. Warren Hobbs had been the victim of a sadistic eighteenth-century British aristocrat, another secret hidden from the world. “What’s wrong?”
“Why?” Bruno replied, disguising his unease.
“Because you aren’t yourself,” said the boy. “That woman in the house. She’s done something to you.” While he looked like a child, he spoke as an adult.
“Of course she has. I don’t kill indiscriminately.”
“That ain’t what I mean. I know you. We all know you because we’re a part of you. Every one of us. She’s stirred something up inside you.”
The fine hairs on the back of Bruno’s neck stood to attention. “How long are you all staying for?”
A second Echo took both of them by surprise, this time from the passenger seat. They turned sharply to see a woman dressed in a 1940s-style smart grey suit and heels. Bruno recognised her as Ingrid Barford, an Oscar-winning British actress who passed secret intelligence to the government about Russian operatives she had relationships with. “We are here for as long as you want us to be, darling. Who knows? That’s up to you to decide.” She shrugged and smiled sweetly, then began applying a red lipstick.
“But I don’t want any of you here.”
“You can keep telling yourself that, but you’re fooling yourself, kiddo. You’d miss us if we left.” She winked and turned to stare at the house.
Bruno couldn’t allow his unwanted guests to distract him any further. The only person who mattered was Watson.
“You should do it now,” Hobbs continued, his tone excitable. “Get it over with and make her suffer.”
Bruno didn’t respond. It would make perfect sense for him to exact his revenge upon her now, because until it happened, he’d remain a man caught between two lives. However, that two-minute conversation they shared had humanised her, something he hadn’t expected. And it was in danger of holding him back.
As darkness enveloped the town, Bruno was struck by the urge to check in on Louie again. Days had passed since he’d last accessed the cameras that kept his son safe. And whilst it was strictly against Karczewski’s rules, it paled compared to his other crimes since his release. He removed one of several unregistered, unused mobile phones from a bag by Barford’s feet and followed the same routine as before.
The sight of Louie asleep in his bed was both comforting and agonising. In night-vision mode, he could just about make out the Tyrannosaurus rex toy that Zoe had bought him on a trip to London’s Natural History Museum. He had started taking it to bed with him soon after her death.
Leaving Louie without saying goodbye was the hardest thing Bruno had ever done. And it was all because of vultures like Watson: people who were too preoccupied with greed and how much they could steal from others.
How can she live this life of luxury while Louie and I are kept apart? he thought. To hell with the plan. She’s going to pay for what she’s done now. His rage travelled from nought to sixty in a heartbeat.
Bruno pulled at the lid of the armrest and removed the hammer inside it. But as he took hold of the door handle, an outdoor light illuminated Watson’s porch, swiftly followed by half a dozen others stretching the length of the driveway. The front door opened and she appeared, along with an inkling of attraction. No, he told himself. No.
“Hurry up and get this done,” Hobbs encouraged, the remaining top half of his jaw smiling. “It’ll only take one well-placed whack and the whore will hit the ground like a bag of spanners. By the time anyone finds her, she’ll have bled out.”
But as the car door opened, a minivan appeared in the road, driving towards them. It parked outside her house and Bruno slackened his grip on the weapon and lowered himself in his seat despite the darkened windows. Watson made her way to the road outside, just metres away from him.
The driver exited and greeted her. A moment later, a motorised wheelchair moved down a ramp and Watson threw her arms around its occupant, a young girl, and kissed her cheek. The girl followed Watson into the house before the doors shut and the outside lights turned off. As the van pulled away, a logo stencilled along the side revealed that it belonged to the All Bodies activity holidays company.
“Who is she?” Barford asked, a dozen Echoes repeating the question. Of all Bruno had learned about Watson, there were no indications she was a parent.
“I don’t know,” he replied.
“She probably hasn’t locked the front door yet,” Barford continued. “It wouldn’t take much for a big strong boy like you to break it open and do what needs to be done. How about it, kiddo? How about we get this over with now so that we can all move on?”
Bruno didn’t reply. He would need to learn more about Watson’s relationship with the girl before her fate was sealed.
CHAPTER 42
SINÉAD, EDZELL, SCOTLAND
Sinéad braked sharply when she recognised Gail’s car. There weren’t many flame-red Land Rovers in Edzell.
Sinéad was returning from neighbouring Forfar with copies of licences for food, beverages, and entertainment for the forthcoming village fete when she spotted the vehicle. There had been no communication between them since she had overheard Anthony slap Gail. And Sinéad’s inaction had played on her conscience every day since.
The bells of Edzell church tolled as Sinéad pulled into the car park. She thought back to those friends who had tried to intervene in her relationship with Daniel. She had responded to them with indignation, so why should Gail be any different? Regardless, she couldn’t sit back and allow another Daniel to break someone else’s spirit.
She made her way across the grass and towards the children’s play area, where she found Gail sitting on a bench, her baby in the pushchair facing away from her. Once again, there was no interaction between mother and daughter. Gail hadn’t heard her approach and appeared lost in thought, staring at a climbing frame ahead. Nervous, Sinéad fought the urge to find comfort by tugging at her eyelashes. “Hello, stranger,” she began. “How are you?” She’d half expected Gail to be surprised by her appearance, but if she was, she gave nothing away.
“I’m good, thank you,” Gail replied coolly.
“Are you really?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Only it seems like you’ve been avoiding me.” When Gail didn’t reply, Sinéad knew she would need to tread extra carefully. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“It wasn’t how it sounded.”
“I know that it was.”
“Well, I’m sorry you had to be there to hear it. It’s never happened before.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Gail, I’ve been exactly where you are now. It was only after I left my husband that I truly understood how emotionally abusive he was . . .”
Gail shook her head. “You’ve got it wrong. Anthony isn’t like that. I’m the problem, not him. He’s a good man, a good father . . .”
“No matter how subtly he plays it, I’ve heard the condescending way he speaks to you. He makes it sound like whatever’s going on between you is all your fault. I know how he operates because it’s what Daniel did to me—”
“Please, stop,” Gail interrupted. “Just because your marriage failed doesn’t mean I’ll allow mine to do the same.”
There was an animosity in Gail’s words that Sinéad hadn’t heard before. She glanced at Gail’s hands. Her nails were bitten down to the quick and the skin around them was mottled. Still, Sinéad pressed on.
“You can’t change someone who doesn’t want to change. Think of Taylor. Do you want her to be raised by a bully?” Gail’s cheeks reddened. “Please take it from somebody who knows. A friend once told me there was a life to be had away from my husband, and I found it. You need to find yours away from Anthony or he will grind you down to nothing.”
As Gail nodded slowly, Sinéad felt a wave of relief washing over her. Perhaps she had succeeded where so many of her former friends had failed. Maybe Gail needed someone like Sinéad to spell it out to her.
Gail raked her hand through her curls and turned to face Sinéad as she stood up and released the brake from the pushchair. “I will tell you this one time only. Keep your fucking nose out of my business and stay away from me.”
