by Darren Shan
‘Wise woman,’ I remark, managing a sickly grin.
‘I came home on a high,’ she continues. ‘I practically floated in the door and started getting ready. I wanted to make a good impression on Joe. In the middle of shaving my legs, I put my razor aside and jotted down the beginning of a silly poem that popped into my head.
‘My lover’s kiss is like a drill,
His heart supplies its power.
Resistance he is quick to kill,
And my love he devours.’
She pulls a face. ‘Woeful, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve heard worse,’ I smile. ‘But not often.’
Her expression twists. ‘I was working on the second verse when Mikis sneaked up on me. Before I could stop him, he’d ripped the poem away. He lost his head. Screamed and demanded to know the name of my lover. I told him it was about him, something I’d made up for fun, remembering our early days together, but he wouldn’t listen. It infuriated him. He . . . ’ She points vaguely to her face.
‘I’ll kill him,’ I growl.
‘Don’t start that again.’
‘He did all this because of a fucking poem?’
‘That’s Mikis. It would have been worse if I’d finished it. I was going to mention your name in the third or fourth verse, intending to give it to you later.’
‘The bastard.’ I wish I had him here, where I could lay my hands on him.
‘I don’t know,’ she sighs. ‘His suspicions were justified this time. The poem was about an actual lover. I convinced him in the end that it wasn’t – he beat me so badly, he was sure I was telling the truth, that I couldn’t lie in the face of such a thrashing – but, to be fair, I brought this on myself.’
That’s a point I could debate sourly, but I don’t. Instead I get to my feet and say firmly, ‘Come on.’
‘Where?’ she asks, alarmed.
‘We’re leaving. I’m taking you with me. If we can’t book you on to my flight to Montana, we’ll take the next one. Pack what you can’t live without and don’t forget your passport.’
She shakes her head. ‘Sit down. We’re not going anywhere.’
‘We are,’ I insist. ‘I’m not leaving you here in the hands of that son of a bitch. I can hide you, arrange fake papers. We’ll change our names and move on. He won’t find us. And if he does, he’ll regret it. You’ll be safe with me, Andeanna. I swear, on all that’s sacred, I’ll protect you.’
She stares at me, taken aback. ‘I think you mean it,’ she murmurs.
‘Bet the Crown Jewels I do.’ I grin and offer her my hand. ‘Let’s go.’
She reaches towards me. Stops. ‘No,’ she whispers. ‘I can’t.’
‘You can!’ I shout, and she flinches. Lowering my voice, I kneel beside her. ‘Is it because you’re afraid?’
‘Partly,’ she says, starting to cry. The ghosts pull sad faces and wipe crocodile tears away. I don’t let them distract me. ‘But even if I wanted to leave, I’m in no shape to go on the run. Just walking around the house is an effort.’
‘We’ll manage. We can hire a wheelchair. Hell, I’ll carry you if I have to.’
She touches my lips to silence me. ‘You’re thinking crooked. How will we cover our tracks if I’m confined to a wheelchair or slung over your shoulder? People will notice us. Mikis will track down those people and find out where we went. It isn’t possible, not now, not tonight.’
Those last four words fill me with hope. ‘But you will come?’ I ask, seizing her hands. ‘Soon, when you’re able?’
She nods hesitantly. ‘I think so. Mikis has hurt me before, but never like this. I really thought he was going to kill me. Do you know what went through my mind?’ I look at her questioningly. ‘I wished I’d let you fuck me.’ She blushes behind the clouds of dark purple bruises. ‘That was my only regret. I was sorry I hadn’t made the most of you when I had the chance. That was when I realized how much I love you and how I can’t go on without you.’
‘Andeanna,’ I groan.
She strokes my chin and kisses me. This time she doesn’t wince. ‘We’ll make plans,’ she says. ‘We have time. Mikis hates me, but that can work in our favour. I don’t think he’ll come to see me any time soon. The guards are a problem, but I can ring you when the chance arises. Maybe you can find sleeping pills and slip them to me. I often cook for the guards, so I could –’
‘Greygo! Where are you?’
We swivel as if on springs. Through the door we see a man standing in the hall, hands on hips, looking up the stairs. My first thought is that it’s the Turk, and I welcome the intrusion, but then Andeanna hisses, ‘Axel!’
Whether he hears her or just senses our presence, the guard turns and spots us. Frowning, he starts forward. ‘Who’s there?’ he asks, squinting into the darkness.
I have maybe four or five seconds before he’s upon us. Reacting calmly, as I did in the restaurant when I thought we might be attacked, I look for a weapon. There are vases on a shelf, but they’re small, fragile, useless.
Andeanna stiffens. ‘If he sees us, it’s over. He’ll tell Mikis. He’ll . . . ’
The guard reaches the doorway and stops. ‘Who’s there?’ he barks. ‘Greygo? Are you with a woman?’
While my eyes search for something to defend myself with, Andeanna stands and walks towards the guard. ‘Hello, Axel. Greygo’s not here. Can I help?’
‘What the fuck?’ the guard mutters, staring at Andeanna. He takes a step back and stumbles over a telephone cable which hasn’t been tacked to the wall. That’s my weapon.
Leaping to my feet, I dart past Andeanna, lowering my head as I charge. The guard’s eyes flicker towards me, but then, even though he must know I’m a threat, they return to Andeanna. Taking advantage of his confusion, I barrel into him and knock him flat to the floor. The air explodes out of him in a huff. His hand goes for his gun, but I’m too fast. Grasping his wrist, I elbow him between the eyes with my free arm.
As Axel’s head snaps backwards, I drag him to the door, grab the telephone cable, loop it round his throat, take firm hold of the cord with both hands, dig my right knee into the small of his back and pull. The guard’s eyes bulge as the cable cuts into the flesh of his throat. He slaps at my hands and jerks at the noose. No good. The loop tightens. He’s at my mercy. And I have none.
Andeanna screams as the guard’s legs thrash. The stench of released faeces hits the air. His hands claw at mine, nails scratching my lower arms. His tongue sticks out obscenely. His teeth grind down on it, drawing blood, then peel apart as he seeks the elusive breath which might restore his vitality.
The ghosts writhe with delight and applaud grotesquely. This is what they want, me shedding my respectable charade, giving in to my baser instincts, damning myself. They think that violence will unhinge my senses and leave me vulnerable, in their clutches. They might be right, but I can’t let that stop me.
I concentrate on the cable, driving my knee down into Axel’s back, pinning him to the floor, making sure my sweaty fingers don’t slip, not letting myself forget that he has a gun and needs only the slightest opportunity to reverse our situations.
Wicked choking sounds. His palms slap flatly on the floor. His body goes limp as he passes out. If I release him now, he’ll revive in the morning, bruised, maybe mute for a few days, but alive. I want to free him. I don’t enjoy killing. But he’s seen us together. He’d tell the Turk. It’s us or him.
I relax my grip on the cable, let the loop loosen, wipe my hands on the thighs of my trousers, take hold of the cable again. I maintain the pressure for a long minute before letting go and stepping away from the corpse.
Andeanna approaches, hands clasped as if in prayer, fingertips to her lips. She walks around the lifeless body, then stares at me, terrified. ‘You killed him,’ she whispers.
‘I had to.’ She stares at my hands, which are only trembling slightly. I’d like to talk her through this, but there isn’t time. The guard wasn’t calling her name. He was looking
for her son. ‘Where’s Greygo?’ I ask.
‘You strangled him,’ she says, ignoring me, captivated by the corpse.
‘He called for Greygo. Is your son here?’
‘You killed him. Just throttled him until . . . ’
I raise a hand to slap her, then think of her bruises and lower it. Grasping her shoulders, I shake her lightly. ‘Andeanna!’ Her eyes snap into focus and fix on mine. ‘Is Greygo here?’
She considers the question carefully before replying. ‘No.’
‘Then why was the guard calling his name?’
She frowns. Her gaze darts towards the body, but I step in front of her, blocking her view, forcing her to concentrate. She shakes her head. ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t think he was home. But I’ve been in the music room all night. Maybe . . . ’
‘We have to check.’ I turn to the guard and search for his gun, which I find strapped to his side in a sleek leather holster.
Andeanna gasps when she sees me holding the pistol. ‘No! I won’t let you harm Greygo. He’s my son. You’re not going to –’
‘This is for protection only. I might club him over the head with the butt if I have to, but I won’t shoot him.’
‘If you kill my child . . . ’
‘I know. Now let’s go see if we can find him.’
I help her up the stairs. Her legs are weak and she has to lean on me much of the way. Watching someone die is never easy. Watching someone being murdered is harder still. I’d let her rest if I could, but if her son’s upstairs he has to be neutralized. If we’re lucky, he’ll be sleeping and we can lock him in his room. If luck’s against us, I’ll try to knock him out. I don’t want to hurt him. I know that Andeanna would never forgive me if I did.
I ask her to call his name when we reach the landing. Her first attempt is a brittle croak. Swallowing, she tries again. ‘Greygo.’ No answer. ‘Greygo! Are you here?’ The silence is absolute.
‘His room,’ I whisper. She leads the way, walking stiffly, and pauses by the door, unwilling to open it. Pushing past her, I turn the handle and slide into a cool, dark room. The curtains are open. The bed’s unoccupied. Nobody home. ‘Where else could he be?’
‘I don’t think he’s here. He’d have checked in with me if he’d come back.’
‘But if he was here, where would he be?’
She shrugs. ‘The pool room, maybe.’
We proceed cautiously. Andeanna observes me silently. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I doubt it’s anything positive. The ghosts are still cavorting madly, as if dancing on hot coals. This is the most excitement they’ve had in years. They’re eager for more. Even the little girl is bloodthirsty, wanting to see me kill again, condemning myself to more guilt, suffering and madness.
The lights are on in the pool room but nobody’s present. I sniff the air for traces of aftershave or smoke. Nothing. Only chalk dust.
‘He isn’t here,’ Andeanna says with relief.
‘Are there any other rooms where . . . ?’
She shakes her head firmly. ‘He isn’t home.’
‘You’re certain?’
She nods. ‘We can check if his car’s in the garage, but I know it won’t be. We’d have run into him by now if he was here.’
She’s probably right, but I make her take me to the garage all the same. It’s empty. No Greygo. We’re alone.
Back in the dining room, I study the sprawled guard and consider my next move. No blood, which is good. He’s tall, but not heavily built. Shouldn’t be too hard to carry. ‘We have to wrap him up,’ I tell Andeanna, frisking him for keys, his wallet, rings and chains. ‘Do you have any rubber blankets?’
‘I don’t know,’ Andeanna replies, staring at the cord around his throat, the ugly red line of death carved into his flesh.
‘If you haven’t, we’ll use a couple of ordinary blankets covered with plastic bags.’ I gently unwrap the telephone cable from around his neck. Tracing it to the phone in the hallway, I check for a dial tone and find one. That means I just have to wipe the cable with a cloth and stick it back against the wall.
‘We need to work quickly,’ I tell Andeanna as I return to the dining room. ‘Once we have him wrapped, I’ll get my car, bundle him into the trunk and . . . ’ I stop. ‘Where’s his car? Why didn’t we hear him pulling back into the drive?’ Andeanna looks blank. ‘He drove out of here but he didn’t drive back. We’d have heard him. Why did he return so soon, on foot?’
She shakes her head. I reach out to grab her shoulders again, but she pulls away. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she snarls.
‘OK.’ I lower my hands. ‘You don’t have to fear me. I’ll give you all the space you need. But don’t freak out on me. We have to hold it together.’
‘You killed him.’
‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘But that isn’t the issue. Where the hell is his car?’ It comes out louder than I intended.
Andeanna blinks. ‘Axel drives an old Skoda. It sometimes stalls. It must have quit on him on the way to the shops. That’s why he called for Greygo — he hoped he was here, to help push the car.’
‘We have to find it. We’ll use it to get rid of the body, then dump it. That will be safer than taking him in my car. Then we can –’
‘You killed him,’ Andeanna interrupts.
‘Are we back to that?’ I groan.
‘You killed him coldly, calmly, like it was no big thing, as if it wasn’t the first time you’d done it.’ Her voice is steady. I stare at her wordlessly while she circles me as she earlier circled the corpse, eyes pinning me to the spot. The ghosts circle with her, swaying and cooing. ‘I saw Mikis kill a man once. Fourteen years ago, in Blackpool. He attacked us. He had a knife. Mikis disarmed him, took the knife and kept stabbing until he was dead.’
‘Andeanna. We don’t have time for this.’
She ignores me. ‘Mikis didn’t panic. I’m sure he’d been in that sort of situation before. He knew what to do. But even so, he didn’t react as icily as you. He was shaking. He took my hand and ran, then stopped and cursed — he’d dropped the knife and had to go back to get it. In our hotel room he downed half a bottle of vodka before the shakes subsided. He looked like hell.’
She stops. I cross my arms, resigned, and wait for the inevitable question.
‘You don’t look like hell, Ed. You dispatched — yes, dispatched him as if you were tearing open an envelope. And now here you are, cool, composed, casually talking about how to get rid of the body.’
‘I have to. If we don’t –’
‘Earlier,’ she barks. ‘When you were trying to convince me to leave with you. You said you could protect me.’
I nod wearily. ‘Yes.’
‘You didn’t sell computers before you were a writer, did you?’
‘No.’
She steps up close. ‘What did you do, Ed?’
I consider a variety of lies, then dismiss them all. It’s time for the truth. ‘I killed people,’ I tell her, then add emotionlessly, to make sure we understand each other completely, ‘I was an assassin.’
PART THREE
NINE
I find Axel Nelke’s Skoda less than half a mile past the gate, parked in the shade of a tree. I check both sides of the street for signs of life. Observing none, I pull on an old pair of the Turk’s driving gloves which Andeanna found for me – I don’t want to leave any fingerprints – open the driver’s door, sit in and try to start it up, anticipating problems.
The engine kicks into life immediately. I let it turn over for a few seconds, then complete a U-turn and head for the mansion, where Andeanna is waiting with Nelke inside the front door. He’s wrapped in dark sheets and black plastic bags. We dragged him there after I’d taken off his trousers and cleaned him up, so that his death stench wouldn’t foul up the air of the car.
I leave the engine running – I don’t want to risk not being able to restart it – and duck inside. Andeanna is pale-faced. We haven’t said much since I told her of my true past. I
will explain everything, but not while there’s work to be done. It’s better to operate in silence and save the biography for later.
‘Where will you take him?’ Andeanna asks.
‘I haven’t decided. Any suggestions?’ I’m not being sarcastic.
She shakes her head hopelessly. ‘I don’t know.’
I flash her a confident smile, trying to put her at ease. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out.’ She nods, but there’s no warmth or thanks in the gesture, merely a cool acknowledgement that she trusts me to handle things. ‘Can you drive?’ I ask.
She frowns. ‘Of course. I passed my test years ago.’
‘I mean can you drive now? Are your nerves up to it?’
‘Oh.’ She looks at the bagged body and gulps. ‘Why do you need a driver?’
‘My car,’ I explain patiently. ‘Somebody has to drive it back to the Royal Munster. If you can’t, I’ll have to call Joe.’
‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘I don’t want to involve anyone else. I’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but I’ll manage.’
‘The keys are in the ignition. There’s a car park beneath the hotel. Get a cab back here, but get it to drop you nearby, not at the house.’
‘What about the keys? How will I return them to you?’
‘Leave them under the seat. Don’t lock the door.’
‘But someone could steal it.’
A time like this and she’s worried about motor theft! ‘Let them,’ I snap. ‘It’s a rental. It doesn’t matter. And don’t forget to wipe the CCTV hard drive when you get back.’
‘God, yes. I’d forgotten.’ She glances at the bag again. ‘Will you come back when you’re finished?’
‘You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?’ She blinks, stung by my sharp tone, and I sigh. ‘We won’t be able to see one another for a while. I doubt the Turk will connect his guard’s disappearance with you, but let’s not take any chances. I want you to phone him when you return. Tell him Axel took a call and bailed. Act annoyed. Let the Turk worry about it after that.’
