‘Why’s the doll bloody?’ Genni said, her voice high, staring at the stains on her own hand that neither of them had noticed. Lina found a tissue and wiped the red away, part of her thinking how dare they, and another thinking, swab and analyse, because whose blood was it this time?
The truck pulled off and Lina could hear Iva coming up the stairs from the ground floor. Xander had said Devendra Kapoor’s tag was offline, but Thiago would find him anyway, and then there would be another politico here, grieving a bad man openly while Lina must hide her grief for a good one.
‘Have you seen Kai yet?’ she said to Genni, but her sister shook her head. Her topknot looked dry and matted, her hair needing care that Lina had not thought to give.
‘Lina.’ It was Iva, looking at the martenitsa with something in her eyes that made Lina think she hadn’t known. Lina held it up gingerly.
‘Anais?’ she said. ‘It was on the balcony railing.’
Iva switched to Bulgarian. ‘Lina, Mr Ferdinando said–’
‘I know,’ Lina interrupted, in the same language. ‘But it has blood on it, Iva. It’s too much. My sister has gone through enough. How do I make her believe that this is anything other than a threat?’
‘They are...’ Iva turned to fill the kettle and coffee pot, put them on, faced Lina again with a sigh. ‘It is not just about the tags now. You know who he was, the man who died?’
Someone I loved, Lina thought, abruptly wretched. But said instead, ‘A murderer.’ Because his death had caused James’ just as certainly as his life had caused countless more. He led the monsters and watched them feed, Kai had whispered about his own father. She saw burning refugee camps, huddled children beneath bridges and packed into guarded warehouses.
‘The...’ Iva muttered something that Lina did not catch, a curse she was not familiar with but that sounded ancient and monumental. ‘The repatriation, yes? Of the descendants. That was his idea, his job.’
‘Oh.’
‘People, families, children, who lived in England for all their lives, their parents’ lives, even their grandparents’. He kicked them out, saying, Go back to where you came from; you are Eastern European, not English. And now where are they?’ Iva’s movements were violent as she cut bread, pulled plates down from the shelves. ‘Where are these people who had never lived anywhere but England?’
‘I know,’ Lina said quietly.
‘Yes, you know. Dumped into boats not fit for use, and how many drowned on the crossing?’
‘I know,’ Lina repeated.
‘Yes, you know.’ Iva paused in her bread slicing and leaned over her hands. ‘Yes, you know,’ she said again, weariness in every angle of her arms, her shoulders. She did not turn to look at Lina, but she fell silent and accepted Lina’s hand on her forearm with a tiny nod.
So it was not just about the tags anymore, and she and Thiago were not the targets anymore. It might have been a relief, but she had never been scared for herself, only for the locals and what their protests might bring to their doors.
‘He’s dead,’ she said after a while. ‘It won’t change anything.’
‘No,’ Iva said to the stream of pouring coffee catching the light like earthy gold. ‘But his family get to pretend innocence, and live protected, and that is not right.’ Which Lina had no answer to, because it was true and if she were not worried about Xander’s sharp eyes and her family, she might leave bloodstained messages at their windows as well. For James, she might.
She and Iva and Genni ate breakfast quietly, Genni intent on her food and then returning to her tablet and headphones without speaking. She was scrolling a chat room page that Lina did not recognise. ‘Remember not to log in, won’t you?’ Lina said and Genni looked up at her sharply over the rim of the screen.
‘I’m not stupid,’ she said, and then challengingly, ‘When can I call Dad?’
‘In a bit,’ Lina said, seeing Genni bristle and wanting to touch her but resisting. ‘I need to see if we can get a call through to him safely.’
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
Lina eyed her sister, not sure whether she was looking for reassurance or a fight, and if the latter then why? ‘Safe? If someone could trace it, they could trace him. And if we’re not sure then we won’t risk it,’ she said. ‘We’re protected here, but we need to keep Dad safe, don’t we?’
A flicker of fear, resentment, blame. ‘If ESF say they can’t make a safe call then they’re lying,’ Genni said, not looking at her now, her brows drawn. ‘I bet Xander could get us through. He hacked that man’s tag.’
Iva dropped a glass and swore as it shattered across the floor. Lina rose to help, but Iva waved her away, colour in her face like a banked fire.
‘He might,’ Lina said. ‘But I think he’s better at breaking the law than being safe.’ Trying for lighthearted and falling short.
‘You can do both,’ Genni muttered and Lina wondered what her father was doing now. Still sleeping perhaps, or nursing a tea that held herbs and honey instead of milk. She wondered whether he could grow to like it like that.
‘Not always,’ she said, reaching out to smooth Genni’s hair, unsure whether her tolerating the touch was a win or a loss. ‘Sometimes being safe means taking big risks, but often it means being quiet and careful.’
‘Or running away, which I guess you know all about.’
Lina frowned. ‘Genni, why are you angry with me?’
Genni pushed her chair back. ‘You made us leave because of your stupid friend and all the stupid things you did. We had to leave everything because of you.’ She stood and spun away, throwing over her shoulder, ‘Dad wouldn’t have been stabbed if we’d stayed in London.’ Her bare feet picked up speed down the stairs, blowing out through the front door like a storm, and Lina stared at the space where her sister had been for a long time without moving.
Chapter Fifteen
- L. You there?
- Yes. Thiago’s message caught her as she was crossing the courtyard, trying to decide between forcing Genni out from behind her bedroom door or calling HQ to ask about her father’s travel permits and risk hearing answers she did not want. Or cycling to Beli Iskar to talk to a young man about frightening her sister.
- Kapoor’s tag offline and no sign. Free to pull up cameras from last loc and due east?
- Will do. Hold on. No camp?
- Yes but signs of disturbance. Coming back to offload kid.
Ah, yes. It was hardly an environment Xander would be comfortable, or useful, in, and he would be worried now, which would look a lot like anger. It might have amused her but for the image of him finding his father’s body cowering and bloody. There was so much she would forgive him because of that. Thiago left the chat and she looked up at the thin drifts of mist still sleeping on the forest canopy. Silene was standing by her sunbed, staring down at the dew in dismay, her fingers tugging at the cushions and a tablet hanging limply in the other hand.
‘Ah, Lina, dear,’ Silene said, looking up and smiling at her with such false warmth that Lina almost recoiled. ‘I had a lovely idea.’
‘Oh?’ Lina watched the other woman like she might watch a disturbed wasp nest. Anais appeared from the new house, a bundle of clean bedding in her arms.
‘I thought I would come out with you tomorrow. I need ... an adventure. Show me what you do in the wilds.’ She gestured at the cascading skyline.
Anais paused behind Lina.
‘Why?’ Lina said. Restlessness driven by drugs and nerves? The missing saviour, or curiosity about her, Lina?
Silene laughed and Anais still had not moved, perhaps as mystified as Lina. ‘Oh well, I don’t know,’ Silene said, patting at the cushions again, wiping the dew off on her dress with a moue of distaste. ‘I feel the need to ... to get away from here, you know? And won’t it be lovely, just the girls having a chat?’
Anais made
a noise somewhere between a growl and a snort, and Lina said as levelly as possible, ‘I might not be going out,’ although she wanted to so very much. ‘But if I do, I have to warn you it’s quite arduous work. Cycling and a lot of rough hiking.’ She looked at Silene’s dress, her delicate heeled sandals, her expectant face and was torn perfectly between repulsion and ridiculous, indoctrinated good manners. ‘But if you are happy with that then of course you’d be welcome.’ Thinking, god no. Bloody hell, no.
Anais moved away, and the image of Silene covered in old mud, sweating up an incline was so utterly unbelievable that Lina couldn’t believe it. She would offer a driven tour and a river walk another day, and that would be it.
She settled decisively onto her lab bench, setting up one tablet to start filtering camera images from last night, reaching for another to call her father. Two so nearly ordinary acts.
If she got safely through then she would take the tablet to Genni, but some wary instinct made her start it alone. The call to the last account her father had used buzzed and disconnected. She tried again. Call, disconnect. Again. And finally someone answered it, but with no video, Lina stared at the greyed box and was not surprised when it was not her father who spoke.
‘Andromeda?’
‘Yes,’ she said, cleared her throat. ‘Pole star. Is that ... who is that?’
In accented English, ‘State pick him up this morning.’
‘No.’ Her chest caving in. ‘Oh god, no.’
‘Slovak, no London.’ A pause. ‘Sorry. Someone tell them, yes?’
Someone tipped them off.
‘Was it definitely State? And what charge?’ He had still been so weak. Had they been gentle with him? London would not have been, but Slovak State was supposed to be kinder. She had been so close to hopeful.
‘It is certain. I saw them. They say no visa.’
‘But–’ she cut herself off. ‘Are you safe?’
A soft laugh. ‘Yes. Thank you.’ Another hesitation, and then putting into words something already crystallising in Lina’s mind. ‘It maybe is safest for him. If ... you are ESF, yes? ESF speak to State, then he is safe.’
Maybe. Maybe. ‘What if London ask for him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What if London have someone inside?’ There was always someone bribable, she thought. Always someone who needed the money, or had family to protect. The other person did not speak, which was all the answer Lina needed.
‘I have to go,’ they said eventually. ‘I lose this IP. If I have news I call you, yes?’
‘Okay,’ she said, perhaps too quietly for them to hear. When the call ended, she stared out of the window, the soft red of the new house, the meadow coruscating, butterflies above the grass like glitter. She could not tell Genni, she realised. Not this, not yet.
She called the Zurich office and Isla’s gatekeeper said softly, ‘Urgent, is it?’ When she nodded mutely, he eyed her for a long minute before putting her call through, his fingers typing unceasingly just out of shot.
‘Lina,’ Isla was smiling but in a way that spoke of distractions, or lack of time. ‘What’s up?’
‘Sorry to call without warning,’ Lina said. ‘I ... can we talk about my father, quickly?’
Isla looked down at her desk then back to the screen, some of her distractedness gone. ‘I heard he was hurt. Sorry about that. But your brother got to you alright.’
‘Sister, now,’ Lina said, but ploughed on without letting Isla ask. ‘Slovak State are holding him.’ Isla’s gaze sharpened. She hadn’t known. ‘Can we do anything? He’s travelling on an ESF permit, so shouldn’t they release him at the border?’
Isla frowned down at her desk, one hand twirling a pen at the very edge of the screen.
‘Or can we apply for extradition or release? Isla?’
‘Wait,’ Isla said. ‘No visa, I assume. But the attack was mercenaries.’
‘A London bounty, yes. ESF can ask for his release, can’t we?’
Isla made the same movement again, look down at her desk, pause, look up to Lina. There’s something there, Lina realised, her file or a report containing something that Isla was undecided on.
‘We can extend the travel permit so it does not expire. But, Lina,’ steepling her fingers, and she was a good woman, which was why Lina’s skin was cooling as if stepping out into frost. ‘Lina, we might ... it looks like his situation is somewhat unstable, and there is already some reluctance to involve ourselves.’
The first camera had finished uploading its photos from the night, the second began. Lina wished she had messaged instead of called. To hide her face and the view of Zurich in the rain. ‘But you said, as it was part of protecting me, that you would–’
‘Please, Lina,’ Isla grimaced, looked at her desk again. ‘I assume you’ve heard the news from London, about the...’ glance downwards, ‘James Hanslow’s death?’
‘Yes,’ Lina whispered.
And she couldn’t hide her expression. Isla’s face changed. ‘Oh Lina, I am sorry, I shouldn’t have just... I’m sorry.’
‘I know,’ Lina said, her voice husky, pressing her fingertips along the edge of the bench until her nails blanched. ‘So what does that mean for my dad?’
‘Well, it’s not straightforward. Possession of our permit means he was entitled to pass through Slovakia, but he stopped and, well, there are clearly other factors at play. London are more interested in him than we anticipated.’
So they may have requested the arrest. Had they, when the hit had failed? ‘Yes, but–’
‘They are asking for interview access to you, and they requested that we withdraw our permit for him too, although that was before this arrest. He’s wanted as a direct associate to James Hanslow, you know? They were seen together the week before the assassination.’
Lina leaned back. They were?
‘At the moment, London seem only to view you both as associates, nothing ... more serious. But there has been the suggestion,’ Isla hesitated and Lina’s fingertips ached, ‘that your father’s situation is further endangering you. You are our priority, Lina. But don’t panic. That isn’t as bad as it sounds.’
And yet how could it be anything else? ‘Isla–’
‘There have been some attempts to hack into your ESF file. The security is solid, but I just thought you ought to know.’
‘Xander,’ Lina whispered. Isla tilted her head questioningly, but Lina said only, ‘I’m safe here. And my dad is innocent. Please, will you ask if someone can talk to Slovak State? Please, Isla.’
She remembered whispering her mother’s name in the dark, fingers on her lips to trace the shape of the word, make it physical.
Isla looked down at her desk again, lifted a slim sheaf of papers restlessly then let them drop. A gust of wind threw rain recklessly against the window behind her. ‘I’ll ask,’ she said eventually. ‘But this is attracting attention.’
Lina couldn’t bear to ask, but she thought that Isla meant within ESF rather than outside it, and Thiago had told her what ESF would do if her family became a liability to her. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But he’s–’ Isla’s image vanished, and instead of a blank screen, the thin faced man appeared as if he had been waiting.
‘Dr Stephenson, a word, if you don’t mind?’ he said. When she stared at him without answering, he cleared his throat lightly. ‘I assume Dr MacKenzie told you about the hack attempts?’
Lina nodded. In the corner of her eye a camera image held the slim silhouette of a wolf, the next image held two, one facing towards the camera with long light painting its coat the same colour as this man’s eyes.
‘Whoever they are, they are very good and rather determined.’ He gave her a narrow indecipherable smile. ‘I thought to check around the ... shadier parts of the web, and someone, I assume the same person, has been asking questions about you and
your family.’
‘Oh,’ she said, almost numb.
‘Dr MacKenzie has perhaps not followed through to the obvious conclusion,’ the man said, not critically, ‘but if this person were to unravel certain aspects of your past, and share them with London State...’
‘Then,’ she finished for him slowly, ‘they would put a lot more pressure on ESF to hand me over. Enough perhaps for ESF to do so.’
The man, who had never given his name, made a small moue of distaste. ‘Hardly,’ he said. ‘That is not what I meant.’
‘Then what?’ But she was piecing it together. She perhaps was safe, and Genni was now, as well. But her father was not. ‘My dad,’ she whispered.
The man nodded. ‘Quite. With him as leverage they would effectively have you, I imagine.’
Because she would go to him. Exchange herself for him if that was what London asked. ‘Oh god,’ she said, holding still as if stillness would give fear no traction, nor heartbreak.
‘Yes, well.’ The man lifted a hand to touch the side of his glasses, gave her that small smile again and this time she saw something kinder in it. Beneath warning and perceptiveness, pity. ‘You cannot do a great deal about your father’s ... situation, so I’d advise addressing the potential leak. You have the means at your disposal, I believe. Good luck, Dr Stephenson.’
He knew it was Xander, she realised. Or suspected. You have the means. She was not naive, or stupid, so she knew what he was suggesting. But her mind skipped over it as if such a thought were a trap, which it was.
The camera images were slideshowing across her screen as they loaded. There was code running to filter them, so it ought to have been easy to find any people. But so far there was only two shepherds with their dogs and long-legged flock on a track between meadows. Lina’s hands moved without her, widening the filter to catch any large mammal in case his pack was confusing the detection, which was more likely than that he had evaded all the cameras between his camp and here.
This Is Our Undoing Page 12
