by Val McDermid
29
He stood under the shower and let the scalding water pour over him. Please God, he would finally feel clean again after this. At least this harbour had decent, private shower rooms. He’d felt dirty ever since he’d fucked that bitch Calvet, and the facilities on board the Wilhelmina Rosen were too primitive to cleanse a man as defiled as she had left him. He had to get rid of the filth before it ate through his skin and poisoned his very soul.
At first, he’d been proud of himself. Taking the bitch like that had showed his grandfather’s shade who was in charge now. But afterwards, with the whore he’d picked up in Köln, he’d lost it. Couldn’t get it up, then when he finally managed it, couldn’t come. Fucking Calvet was supposed to make him stronger, fill him with light and power, but instead her image kept blazing across his tightly squeezed eyes, distracting him, turning him off. He’d felt as useless and pathetic with that Köln hooker as he had in the days before he’d comprehended what he should be doing with his life.
Driving back afterwards, the blackness had invaded him, filling the pit of his stomach with cold bile. What if he’d been wrong? What if the old man’s taunts had driven him the wrong way? Face it, any drunken sailor would have done what he had. He’d given in to the most basic instinct, he’d become as much of an animal as those bastards he was sworn to kill. His mission had been pure in his mind before he fucked that bitch, but now it felt cluttered and confused. Women, they were always the treacherous ones, dragging men like him down into the shit. Calvet didn’t deserve him, but he’d been weak enough to fall into the trap she’d laid for him with the old man.
The whores didn’t deserve him either, but at least their corruption was honest. They didn’t pretend to be anything other than what they presented to the world, unlike his chosen victims.
He had been pathetic. He had been carried away, let down by his body. He’d betrayed the purity of his cause, and it must never happen again. He had to make the light come back. Only by returning to his mission and carrying it out correctly could he really cleanse himself, he realized as the water streamed over skin rubbed red raw with washing.
Let it be soon.
It felt strange to have Radecki standing in the middle of her living room, looking around him as if he’d never been there before. He’d arrived ten minutes early and she hadn’t quite finished her make-up. It seemed churlish to leave him drumming his heels on the pavement, so Carol had invited him up. It was, she thought, what Caroline would have done.
Now she leaned in towards the bathroom mirror, applying eyeliner. The least convenient thing so far about being Caroline was having to wear much more elaborate make-up than she normally bothered with. Life, in Carol’s opinion, was too short for full slap every day. But Caroline would care too much about how she was perceived to skimp on that.
‘These places are really rather pleasant,’ Tadeusz called from the living room. ‘More spacious than I imagined.’
‘The furnishings aren’t bad either.’
‘No. A bit bland, but rather that than in your face.’
‘It’s a lot better than a hotel,’ Carol said. ‘Much more room and much more privacy. You don’t have housekeeping battering the door down every five minutes wanting to change the towels or check the minibar.’
‘How did you find it?’ he asked.
Careful, Carol, she cautioned herself. ‘My friendly travel agent told me about it. She got someone local to check it out and make the booking for me. She knows the kind of thing I prefer.’ Satisfied with the eyeliner, she reached for the mascara.
‘You travel a lot, then?’
‘I wouldn’t say a lot, but fairly regularly. And I like to feel at home when I do. What about you? Do you travel much?’
His voice came closer. He was too polite to peer in through the open door, but it sounded as if he was in the living-room doorway. That meant he wasn’t investigating her possessions, which tended to confirm her theory that he had been the searcher. ‘I do move around quite a bit within Europe, but it’s mostly connected to the business.’
‘You deal with things on the front line yourself, then?’ she asked.
‘I like to know who I’m dealing with. But I leave most of the day-to-day stuff to my right-hand man, Darko Krasic. I hope you’ll meet him soon. He’s a crazy Serb, but he’s easy to underestimate. He looks like nothing more than a thug, but he’s actually a very smart operator.’
Not the one who’s following me, then, Carol thought. Her tail certainly couldn’t be described as thuggish. Willowy, more like. ‘I look forward to that,’ she said. ‘Just got my lippie to do and then I’m ready. Sorry to keep you waiting.’
‘Not at all. I’m glad I’ve had the chance to see where you’re living. Now I can picture you when we’re not together. Perhaps I can return the compliment? Maybe we could dine in my apartment tomorrow?’
Carol chuckled. ‘You can cook too?’
He laughed. ‘Not very well. But I can pick up a phone and order a delivery from the best restaurant in Berlin.’
Carol emerged from the bathroom. ‘There. All ready.’
He smiled, tilting his head appreciatively. ‘Well worth the wait.’
To her surprise, when they left the apartment, the car wasn’t waiting at the kerb. ‘My flagship store is only a fifteen-minute walk from here, and I thought that since the rain had stopped, we could walk. If you don’t mind? If it’s a problem, I can call the car.’
‘It’ll be a pleasure. I need the fresh air,’ she said.
He held out his elbow, crooked in offer, and she slipped her arm through his. Nicely done, she thought. She wasn’t the only one upping the stakes.
The next few hours required little from her but admiration and the occasional question. He was like a small boy showing off the finer points of his favourite train set. By the end of the afternoon, she knew more about the retail and rental of videos than she would ever have believed there was to know. But along the way, she had also picked up useful nuggets of information about the methods Tadeusz had adopted to launder his illegal proceeds through his legitimate businesses. Financial details had never particularly interested her, but even she could see how cunning his set-up was. She knew she was learning things that would help forensic accountants to unpick the financial morass of Tadeusz’s empire once he’d finally been arrested.
What was almost as important as the facts and figures that she’d garnered was the way their interaction was developing. Tadeusz found excuses to touch her at every opportunity; nothing overtly sexual, but something more than casual contact. Handing her a cup of coffee, his fingers would brush against hers. Showing her round the stores, he would place a hand in the small of her back or steer her by the elbow towards something of particular interest. Getting into the car, his knee would brush against hers.
Their conversation too was becoming more relaxed. Carol was surprised by how entertaining he could be. Funny and serious by turns, he made interesting what could otherwise have been brain-numbing. As they drove round Berlin, he amused her with anecdotes and fascinated her with gobbets of fact about the sights he pointed out. For minutes together, she forgot that she was working undercover, that this relationship had nowhere to go except betrayal, and actually found herself enjoying his company. It took an encounter with a video to ground her again in the reality of what she was doing. In one of the stores, Tadeusz showed her a special display. ‘Woody Allen films are big in this part of town, so we always make sure we have the full set available for rental and purchase,’ he’d said, gesturing towards the shelves. Zelig seemed to jump out at her, reminding her forcefully not to succumb to his charisma, to hold on to the memory of the viciousness that lay behind his easy charm and his sophisticated lifestyle.
At the end of the tour, he directed the driver to take them back to her apartment. As usual, he walked her to the door. But this time, instead of a courtly farewell, he gazed down at her and took a step closer. Carol had to make an instant decision. Break the m
oment and walk away or draw him further into complicity with her. It was, she knew, a key moment. She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ve had a lovely afternoon,’ she said softly.
He leaned forward, an arm round her waist, and kissed her, lips slightly parted. The heat of his body provoked a surprising surge of desire in Carol, and she had to make a conscious effort not to let herself go in his embrace. ‘Can I see you this evening?’ he asked, his voice husky and deep.
Needing some distance between them, she put her hand on his chest, feeling the thud of his heart under her fingers. ‘I can’t tonight, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I have to work.’
Tadeusz gave a rueful pout. ‘Can’t it wait till tomorrow?’
Carol stepped away from him. ‘I need to send some stuff overnight to my lawyer. We’re in the middle of a property deal and he’s got a meeting in the morning. I should have done it this afternoon, but you tempted me away.’
He shrugged. ‘Never mind. Tomorrow night, then? You’ll come to my place for dinner?’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘But you’re still planning on showing me the more interesting side of the business tomorrow, aren’t you?’
‘Of course. I’ve got a couple of things to sort out first thing in the morning, but after that, I’m all yours.’
‘Great. Give me a call with the arrangements. Thanks again, Tadzio, I’ve really enjoyed your company.’
‘And I yours,’ he said, moving back towards the car at the kerb. ‘I can’t remember the last time I laughed this much.’
Carol couldn’t help a smile sneaking across her face as she walked into the lift. It might not last, it was true, but for now he was playing the game as if he was following Morgan’s script. She hoped it would continue that way.
Tadeusz didn’t bother waiting for the lift. Instead he ran up the three flights of stairs two at a time, feeling a surge of energy that he’d forgotten could possess him. As Darko never tired of reminding him, Caroline was not Katerina. It was only their looks that were similar. But, different as their personalities were, they seemed to have a similar effect on him. For the first time since Katerina’s death, he felt like a human being when he was with Caroline.
He knew he should be wary. Not for the reasons Darko was mistrustful, but because he understood the mechanics of emotional rebound. It would be depressingly predictable to fall for the first interesting woman he met as a sort of bandage for the heart. But he believed that whenever, wherever, however he had encountered Caroline Jackson, he would have been attracted to her. Had Katerina still been alive, he would have acknowledged it to himself but not acted upon it. With Katerina dead, there was no reason not to allow himself to care. To attempt to ignore how he had started to feel was doubtless the safest course of action. But a man who thrived on risk as he did could no more adopt a safety-first policy with women than he could turn his back on the edgy and lucrative world that gave him so delightful a life.
Tadeusz pushed open the fire door and emerged in the vestibule that led to his apartment. He wasn’t alone. Darko Krasic sat on the deep window sill, short legs stretched out in front of him, cigar smoke hazing the air. Tadeusz didn’t break stride, heading straight for his front door. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said, key in the lock.
‘I’ve got something that won’t keep,’ Krasic said, following his boss indoors. Tadeusz took off his overcoat and hung it in a cloakroom in the hallway. Krasic carried on into the sitting room and threw his leather jacket over the back of the sofa. ‘I could use a drink,’ he called.
‘Help yourself, you know where it’s kept.’
Krasic poured himself a slug of Jack Daniels and swallowed most of it at a single gulp. He topped up the glass and settled into a modernist chair that was far more comfortable than it looked. He crushed out his cigar in the deep crystal ashtray on the end table, then drummed his fingers on his knee.
Tadeusz walked in, a visible bounce in his step. ‘It must be a desperate piece of news that has you camping out on my doorstep, Darko.’ He looked as if there was nothing in the world that could touch him as he threw himself down on the sofa and stretched out full length, feet crossed elegantly at the ankles.
‘I had a meeting with Hauser this afternoon.’
Tadeusz groaned and rolled his eyes back. ‘Rather you than me. So what did Happy Hauser have to say for himself? No, wait. Let me guess. He thought he’d bring you the worrying news that Arjouni is moving in on Kamal’s business?’ He grinned.
Krasic couldn’t help returning the smile. Say what you liked about Tadzio, he could generally size people up accurately. Well, men, anyway. ‘He did. But that was dessert. The main course was a lot more interesting.’
‘Do I have to guess, or are you going to tell me?’ Tadeusz’s voice was still light and cheerful. However grim Krasic looked, it wasn’t enough to dispel the warm glow of his afternoon with Caroline.
‘He’s been doing some more digging into the bike.’ Krasic didn’t have to specify which bike. They both knew exactly what he was talking about. ‘And what he’s come up with is very fucking dodgy, Tadzio.’
Tadeusz swung his feet on to the floor, sitting up in one smooth motion. ‘I’m listening,’ he said, suddenly solemn, suddenly catapulted from the pleasant haze of the afternoon into what felt horribly like inescapable reality.
‘It was British. Registered to the National Crime Squad, whatever that is.’
‘Organized crime,’ Tadeusz said automatically, his brain racing ahead of his mouth. ‘But the rider can’t have been here officially, otherwise Hauser would have been able to find out, surely?’
‘I don’t know,’ Krasic said. ‘If they were working with the Berlin criminal intelligence lot, Hauser wouldn’t have a fucking clue. You know how hard we’ve tried to get a mole in that squad, and we’ve never managed it.’
Tadeusz clenched his fist in a gesture of frustration. ‘And we still don’t know who was on the bike?’
‘No,’ Krasic admitted. ‘But, Tadzio, I really don’t like this. There are too many British connections hitting us right now.’ He enumerated on his short, square fingers. ‘First, Katerina gets killed by a British cop bike. Second, Colin Osborne fucks up our British connection by getting blown away in what looks more and more like a very moody shooting. I mean, nobody really seems to know what happened to Colin. It looked like a gangland execution and that’s what the cops put out. But nobody’s admitting to it, which is dodgy, in my book. And now, this British woman turns up, the spitting image of Katerina, and she just happens to be the missing link that solves all our problems. It’s too good to be true,’ he concluded with an air of incontrovertible certainty.
‘Everything you say is true,’ Tadzio admitted. ‘But what you make of it is equally open to another interpretation. As you suggested when this first came up, the biker could have been a British cop on holiday and he had to disappear because he wasn’t supposed to have his bike in Berlin. Colin’s killer is keeping his head down because Colin has business associates who would want to avenge his death and prove they weren’t to be crossed. People like Caroline, for example. Unless of course it was Caroline who had Colin killed to eliminate sloppy competition. I think she could be a dangerous woman, but not for the same reasons you do, Darko. I think she’s one of us. She acts like a successful criminal. She looks at the world like a successful criminal. And women who make it in our business have to be twice as ruthless as the men.’
He stood up and crossed to the drinks cupboard, where he poured himself a small glass of apple schnapps. ‘Darko, I know you think she’s not to be trusted, but that’s only because of the accident of her resemblance to Katerina. If she looked like the back end of a bus, you’d be a lot less suspicious.’
‘Well, that goes without saying. But don’t you think the way she looks is reasonable grounds for suspicion?’ Krasic sounded incredulous.
‘No. I think it’s one of the horrible tricks fate plays on us. I woul
d trust her more easily if she looked differently, I think,’ he said, knowing in his heart it wasn’t true, but refusing to give Krasic any kind of leverage. Then he had a moment’s inspiration, based on years of experience. ‘But, Darko, you’re the one who’s been watching her.’
Krasic looked startled. ‘How did you know? Has she noticed? Did she say something?’
Tadeusz laughed out loud. ‘No, she hasn’t said a thing. I guessed. So, has she done anything suspicious?’
Krasic gave him a sheepish glance. ‘Some shopping. And she goes to that ritzy women’s health club on Giesebrechtstrasse every day.’
‘Oh, that’s really something to worry about, a woman who wants to keep in shape. So, she’s not been hanging out in cop bars or deliberately giving your man the slip?’
Krasic shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. But then, if she was dodgy, she’d expect us to be watching her.’
‘Now you’re being too devious.’ Tadeusz crossed the room and clapped Krasic on the shoulder. ‘You’re a good friend, Darko. But I think this time you’re letting your concern for me run away with your imagination. I really don’t believe Caroline is part of some Machiavellian plot against me involving motorbikes and dead gangsters.’
‘That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop keeping an eye on her,’ the Serb said stubbornly.
‘No reason why you should.’ Tadeusz drained his glass and turned to face Krasic. ‘Just don’t take the costs out of my budget, OK?’ There was iron in his voice now.
Knowing when he was beaten, Krasic got to his feet. ‘Watch your back, boss,’ he said wearily, reaching for his jacket and walking out.
The Shark hated the fact that nobody at work took him seriously. Most of his male colleagues made it clear that they despised him. Petra, for whom he would have walked barefoot on hot coals, patronized him, which sometimes felt worse than contempt. He’d been so excited about his transfer to intelligence, but it had turned out to be a lot less fun than he’d expected. All he ever got to do was the shit work that everybody else thought was beneath their dignity. He understood enough about psychology to realize that, in order for any group to function properly, there had to be a focus for their scorn. He just wished it wasn’t him.
