Then, just as he had done earlier, Andre switched from sex pest to professional in seconds.
‘Want to dance?’ A lightly casual tone to his yell over the music.
Eva looked at him. What a strange way to behave.
He led her back down the stairs from Panorama Bar into the middle of the enormous dance floor. Eva had forgotten how much she enjoyed dancing to this relentlessly heavy beat and Andre was right, the quality of sound really was incredible. The music required precisely no thinking at all, just an instinctive, animalistic response. Thankfully, Andre kept his distance and so she decided to sweat out some of the frustrations of the past week or so. There had been no opportunity for running since she left London so this was a good substitute. Between the combination of the lights, the music and the detachment in her head, she didn’t notice when Andre suddenly slipped away.
In the darkness of the early hours, the man with the Mediterranean tan was not looking quite so bronzed.
He brusquely nodded his head to a side room, where a figure sat tied to a chair. Of course, he was used to events such as these. Nevertheless, a live captive always made him feel vulnerable. It was high risk. His colleague, on the other hand, seemed to relish every minute.
‘He has been tied up in there now for, what… a day? We can’t leave him like that much longer.’
He should not have listened to Paul, that much was obvious now. What were his credentials for this kind of work anyway?
‘Have you suddenly developed a conscience?’ When the younger spoke it was almost a sneer – caught just in time.
That reveal was surprising.
‘No. But I value my carpets, my young friend, and so far he has pissed three times. Besides, there are other factors to consider here. The longer we hold him, the more vulnerable the rest of our operations are. It’s unlikely he is working alone, I’m assuming you have realised that.’
A challenge. Territorial.
The younger man stalked several paces to the right.
‘Perhaps if you told me more about what those other operations are, I could make better informed decisions. I could even advise you.’
The idea of being advised by one so inexperienced was an impertinence too far.
‘No, you could not.’
The two men locked eyes. Seconds passed, neither looked away.
‘So what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that you need to eliminate him, enough of these games, we need to move on.’
‘He is the test subject, it has to be right. The scenario is almost ready, I just need to install the implants.’
‘Almost is not good en…’
The younger man suddenly slammed his balled fist down on a small oak card table. The sudden movement shattered the stillness of the air around him but his gaze never wavered.
The older man began to feel its intensity. He saw revealed in the person opposite the hidden dimension that he had suspected from the start – volatile, violent, emotional. This was not strictly business for him. He looked at Paul again and something in the air between them sparked. Without meaning to, he dropped Paul’s gaze. As he did so, he realised the landscape of the relationship had changed.
The younger man moved away from the card table, which seemed to be almost reeling from the blow.
‘I do agree, the delay is not ideal, but we could proceed without the cranial implants,’ said Paul huskily, rubbing the side of his hand. A conversational olive branch from the victor. That again was unexpected. The deference, the revolt, the release of contained violence and then… reconciliation? That was not how it went. This man – Paul – did not behave normally, he did not follow the rules. Perhaps he didn’t know them. Either way, nothing that he said or did could be taken as genuine.
The man with the Mediterranean tan realised he was hesitating to respond.
‘Do as you think. How much longer?’
‘It’s rather unpredictable. It may be in the hands of fate.’
‘Fate is a fallacy.’ No hesitation anymore.
‘You don’t believe in fate?’
Another flash point.
‘No, the futures of those two men lie in their actions. As do ours.’
There was no response.
‘We have him right here,’ said the older man, nodding his head towards the room in which the man was tied to the chair. ‘We should just kill him now.’
There was a small movement from the side room and both men looked through the spacious doorway at the incapacitated figure. There was no way the bound man could hear their conversation at that distance. Nevertheless, they both lowered their voices.
‘But we have already administered the doses – he is almost ready. And we must make sure this works before we test it on her.’ His voice sounded almost nervy.
‘This is not my technology, Paul.’
The younger man did not need reminding.
‘It is not mine either.’
The conversation fell away into an unimpressed silence.
When Eva realised Andre was gone, she briefly experienced a moment of panic. The enormous room seemed to expand and contract as her brain processed that she was alone. She stood still and looked around. Faces bore smiles, most people were clearly having a fantastic time, it didn’t feel threatening. In fact, this was probably the kind of club you could come to on your own.
She met the eyes of a tall blonde man who was dancing on a raised platform. He held out his hand and she allowed herself to be pulled upwards.
For a moment, she felt self conscious and then, as the bass found its way into her limbs, she once again began to dance.
Eva had no idea how long she had been on the podium when she felt a hand clutch at hers from behind. She turned to look over her shoulder and felt her balance shift but could see no one. She steadied herself quickly, the lights and the noise were a sensory disruption but it would not do to end up on her back on the floor. English-style loutish drunkenness would probably not go down well in here.
Then, the human contact was broken and the hand withdrew. She looked down at her closed fist, able to feel something small and solid inside it. Had someone just handed her a pill? She looked around again for anyone making eye contact but the grey light and flashes of strobe prevented her from seeing who it was and her senses had been numbed by the Jäger and loud music. Perhaps this was part of Andre’s role as fixer in Berlin.
She climbed down off the podium, hand still clasped around whatever was in it, and walked to the back of the dance floor to lean against a railing that looked down on the entrance hall.
She opened her palm to a small piece of paper. She straightened it out.
‘Do not leave Berlin. All the answers you seek are here.’
Eva stared at the paper as, around her, the club night continued to roll on. She suddenly felt very out of place in this world of hedonist escapism, given everything that was happening to her – as the alcohol wore off, reality muscled in and she knew she could no longer indulge, she had to sober up.
Quickly, she pushed her way up to Panorama Bar, where the light was brighter. She joined the queue for the bar, waiting for water, the note playing over and over in her head. Was this actually directed at her? There was every chance this was simply coincidence – some local artist or Berghain lover encouraging people to see what was at the heart of this strangely beautiful and dark city. But there was also a chance it was not.
Suddenly, Eva felt irritated. She needed water and then she needed to go.
She stepped forward to wave at the barman and someone grabbed her wrist.
‘Don’t touch my beard.’
Eva looked in surprise at face of the man she had barely registered on the bar stool in front of her.
‘I…’
‘Shst!’
He shoved her arm aside with some
force and stared at her. He had a large, bushy beard, flecked with ginger and grey, and his eyes bored into her aggressively. Large earrings hung inside the lobes of his ears, stretching them to great wide circles in the flesh.
Eva clenched her teeth, lowered her arm, turned and walked in the other direction around the oval shaped bar.
‘Idiot,’ she muttered to herself, rubbing the point on her wrist at which he had grabbed her.
She felt an urgent desire to leave.
She walked back down the stairs towards the main club space. It would be light soon, she wanted to return to the hotel and pack, well before her flight.
Back downstairs the music had become harder and the club seemed to be picking up the pace. The dancing was more energetic and there were casualties now, collapsed against a wall or slowly chewing through their own lips as they swayed robotically on the dance floor.
This wasn’t a world she wanted to inhabit anymore. The bearded ogre had been the wake up call that this place, like anywhere else, could have its unwelcome, dark side. And she was now on her own.
She made a beeline for the exit.
Outside, it was still just about dark. The air was cold. She looked at her watch. 6.30am. There was still an enormous queue for the club, longer than when they had arrived.
She pulled on her jacket. Although she knew she should find a taxi she wanted to walk first, she needed fresh air.
As she moved away from the noise and chatter of Berghain, she started to feel slightly uncomfortable but still she kept walking.
The streets of East Berlin had an entirely different feel to the centre.
‘You want some help?’
A couple was walking towards her.
‘Are you lost?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
It never seemed sensible in the early hours of the morning, in a dark city, to admit to being either lost or in need of help.
They looked friendly, though, this couple, didn’t they? Berlin-hipsters but harmless enough, walking arm in arm towards her. Although their stares were intense.
Then the woman did something odd. She turned over the hand linked through her partner’s arm so that the palm was facing up. But she didn’t open her fingers, they remained closed as if she was gripping something very small.
They continued to walk towards Eva, only paces away now. She took a step towards them and then tripped on a jagged piece of pavement and began to fall forward. As she fell, she noticed the couple had unlinked arms and the woman had raised her flat hand to her mouth. Eva fell to the floor as she heard the woman exhale. She looked behind her to see a white veil of powder had fallen where she had been standing. She looked up at the woman, whose hand was now empty. The couple stared at her for several seconds, as if waiting for something to happen. Eva stood up and looked at them. No one spoke. She walked away.
ELEVEN
A black hood had been placed over his head some hours earlier. This was now removed, allowing daylight to flood his retina. He squinted into the sun; stared straight ahead.
The first emotion: shock.
Opposite him, stood a man he had long thought lost.
Behind him, the sound of a car engine revving and wheels turning in the dust as a vehicle made its way into the distance at high speed.
He didn’t turn his head left or right. He didn’t acknowledge his surroundings. He just stared at the face opposite.
When he had taken the job that had brought him here he had known it was a risk. Eva affected him. She left him, if not defenceless, then seriously compromised. And they had history. Then there was the oddly vague job brief, one he clearly should have refused. But this, he had not expected.
Perhaps deep down he had known that watching Eva would mean opening a channel to the man opposite, her brother. Maybe a subconscious desire for redemption had led him here.
The other man was blinking into the evening half light, as his own hood had also been removed. He started touching points on his head and face – the same six spots, repeatedly. Was he checking for injuries? He stopped suddenly, when he sensed himself being watched.
Slowly, he lowered his hands to his sides, knuckles clenched. Leon did not see any recognition in his eyes.
They stared at one another and he wondered whether neither could make out if the staring contest they were gripped in was hostile or conspiratorial. Was there still that shared bond between them or had events since shattered it completely?
He continued to stare at the dark-haired man in front of him who shifted on his feet. A movement of discomfort, perhaps he had been sitting for some time, maybe he had been injured, or he could be nervous. Leon’s mind jarred; it seemed out of character.
He glanced around and tried to make sense of his surroundings. It was hot, which meant that he was no longer in the UK. A quick look down revealed army fatigues. He had no weapon. And he had no shoes.
She opened her eyes. A dingy light, the kind that shines in a basement. The air was damp and smelt musty. For several seconds, she felt calm. She looked around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to open your eyes to a scene like this. But then Eva began to feel uneasy. She couldn’t move her arms and she realised they were stuck, spreadeagled on either side of her. Groggily, she noticed that she was sitting up, each wrist tied to the edges of a bed.
She looked down at her legs, jutting out in front of her at right angles. She was wearing a pair of long black socks and stiletto heels she didn’t recognise as her own. She bent her knees to make sure she could move her legs. Several seconds after she sent the command from her brain, her legs moved.
Funny, she thought to herself, and then her mind went blank again.
They had shadowed each other for what seemed like several hours. Leon had tried to start a conversation with the other man but there had been no response. He kept an almost calculated distance from Leon – when Leon stopped, so did he, if Leon jogged towards him he moved so as to maintain the space. Under normal circumstances Leon would have simply lunged but two things had made him want to wait it out: he trusted that face and he knew how lethal Jackson could be. Nevertheless, he urgently wanted to talk to the man who shadowed him. They had known each other for so long that, surely, there must be the same desire on both sides. And yet, they had not exchanged a single word in the last couple of hours and the other man kept his distance. Perhaps he, too, was unsure of the familiar face he saw in front of him.
Although the timing of the situation had caught him off guard, Leon wasn’t surprised to find himself where he was – he had made a lot of enemies during his ‘career’. However, he could not have anticipated this particular opponent. And it was now clear that’s what Jackson was.
In the fading light of the day, the face of the other man puzzled him. So very familiar, so long lost. And yet he felt so little affection for it. Was that purely self protection on his part? His failure had resulted in Jackson’s death after all. Or at least that’s what he had thought – until now.
Leon briefly glanced up at the darkening sky. He knew he was exhausted; he had been exhausted when they arrived.
He had considered running, escaping, but he knew that turning away would be a rookie mistake. He began to wonder if there were other options besides to fight. There was never just one choice. If only he had time to think. But he didn’t. Leon realised that, for the first time, he was facing an enemy who had a mental advantage – and so the power to take from him the one thing he had ever really owned; his life.
‘She’s compliant enough.’
‘Don’t you think we should give her more, just in case?’
‘No. Combined with the drugs they gave us to use on her it could be too much.’
‘But I don’t want to take any risks with her. We don’t know anything about her, the fixer was vague.’
‘She was wandering around drunk,
on her own, in the early hours of the morning; what more do we need to know?’
Eva sat completely still, watching two people she thought she recognised having a conversation in a language she didn’t. She felt almost apart from her body. She could see what was going on and perhaps didn’t like it, but there was no connection to any emotional response.
She watched as the woman turned away from the man, frowning and shaking her head. She caught Eva’s eye and, instantly, Eva realised where she had seen her. It was the couple who had been walking towards her when she left somewhere earlier that – day? night? – she smiled at the woman in recognition. The woman looked pained and glanced the other way.
‘Look, she’s too conscious for this, you can see it in her face. She will remember.’
‘We can’t stop this now.’
‘I’m not saying we should stop, I just think maybe she needs more.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she looked at me like she recognised me. She might be able to identify us.’
‘She won’t remember, that’s the whole point.’
‘I don’t see why they can’t make do with hookers. And why all these additional drugs?’
‘This way is more dangerous, it’s a thrill for them. I don’t know about those,’ he indicated several clear plastic bags of liquid, ‘that’s not up to us.’
The woman turned towards her partner. ‘But it’s dangerous for us, you know that – especially if we don’t know the whole story. We have to protect ourselves.’
The man hesitated. He was tall and thin and smelled of clothes that hadn’t been aired properly. Or, perhaps, his damp aroma was simply because he spent so much time in a basement.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Come on,’ his partner urged, ‘it’s our interests that matter, not hers.’
‘Ok, fine, if you want to then give her another dose.’
Eva watched, quite comfortably, as the woman reached for a small plastic bag and made to tip a white powder into the palm of her hands.
‘Don’t blow it in her face this time!’ said the man suddenly. ‘It will go all over her.’
Killing Eva Page 8
