Killing Eva

by Alex Blackmore

  ‘Just give me your phone.’

  She began to struggle.

  ‘I’m going to start screaming if you don’t move away.’

  ‘Just give me your fucking phone.’

  ‘FUCK YOU.’

  Their faces were inches away from each other and their eyes were locked. Eva felt his breath brush the skin of her cheek. She could barely control her heart beating in her chest.

  ‘You haven’t changed,’ she said, through gritted teeth, ‘still a thug.’

  Nothing on Leon’s face moved. She had never met anyone who could so effectively disguise their emotions. It was infuriating.

  He continued to hold her tight against the climbing frame, his hard body as impassable as the thickest concrete wall. However, Eva sensed he didn’t really know what to do next. He didn’t appear to be his old, efficiently merciless self – that Leon would surely just have taken the phone by force. So she kicked him again, in the same spot on his ankle that had produced the reaction before. The light in the blue eyes flickered as, again, he weakened. It was enough for her to duck under his arms and begin running towards the edge of the park. She turned her head as she ran but, this time, he did not follow. He just stood and stared.

  SEVENTEEN

  As she ran back to the hotel, Eva fumbled in her pockets for the business card Anya had given her. Her heart was beating out of her chest and she kept throwing glances behind her, to make sure Leon, with his lean boxer’s physique and those hands that could so efficiently break a human neck, was not following her. Inside her mind, a whirlwind of questions. Why was he here, why did he want her phone – he was the second person to try and take it from her – why was he wearing a suit? And most pressing of all, how had he even survived the drop from the cliff, last time she had seen him? From experience, she knew Leon was a man of few words, even when his interests were aligned with hers – which, from the encounter in the park moments ago, they clearly were not this time.

  But she was certain this wouldn’t be the last time she would see him. It troubled her a great deal that she experienced not only fear but also excitement at the thought.

  As soon as she found Anya’s card, she dialled the number.

  ‘Eva.’ It was answered on the first ring.

  ‘I need help.’

  ‘We’ll come and pick you up.’

  The line went dead.

  Eva exhaled; she felt the adrenaline from the confrontation in the park start to wane. She slowed her pace. What am I doing, she thought to herself. I have no idea who Anya is.

  Eva looked at the screen of her phone, informing her the call had been ended, and put it in her bag. She had felt as if she had been presented with making a decision between Anya or Leon, and Anya, with her (comparative) lack of physical aggression, seemed the lesser of two evils.

  But was that really her only choice? Was either of them actually anything more than a rock or a hard place?

  Shit.

  Eva pulled the phone out of her bag and looked at the time. She had to check out of the hotel in an hour. Perhaps she should just go to the airport and board the next flight to London. There was no need for her to see Anya again and she was sure she could outwit Leon enough to make it safely onto her flight.

  But then what?

  Sit at a desk in an office and think about whatever it was she might have uncovered in Berlin. Something that might help her to finally let go of the obsessive thoughts about her brother and the man at the station in London – and that strange phrase ‘kolychak’. Wait for whatever was happening – and something was happening – to bring chaos to her life when she was unprepared for it?

  Sometimes, she thought to herself as she took the lift back to her room, sometimes the only way out is through. You can do everything within your power to force yourself to make the right choices, to be in the right situations, to be the right kind of person, but sometimes, in spite of all that, you just end up somewhere else.

  Almost as soon as Eva had finished having a shower, dressing and repacking the last of her suitcase, there was a quiet knock at the door. She glanced briefly at her wet hair and realised there was no time to dry it. She reached for the door handle. And then stopped. Was this actually Anya? It could be Leon. Or, she realised with a start, it could be Sam.

  Sam. Shouldn’t she at least let him know she was leaving? But when she thought about the way he had spoken to her last night, the resistance she had felt towards him, and the cloying suffocation of his affection, she just couldn’t face it.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Anya.’

  Eva opened the door and the statuesque Blonde walked into the room.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’

  Anya clearly did not pull punches. Direct eye contact, even voice tone, body language that indicated she was braced for any eventuality.

  ‘A blast from the past.’

  Anya waited but, sensing she wasn’t about to get anything else from Eva, she held her hand out for the suitcase.

  The two women said nothing as they walked silently along the corridors of the hotel.

  In the lift, Eva said ‘I need to pay my room service bill.’

  ‘I’ve paid it. We need to get you out of here as soon as possible.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘After what happened to you this morning…’

  ‘You know about that.’

  Eva couldn’t say she was particularly surprised. Somehow, Anya had obtained a key to her room, so surveillance was likely. But how much? And why had they not helped her? Eva wondered whether she should be feeling more unnerved than she did. How much was she being manipulated? All she felt was a raw burning around her ears, as if she was hyper aware of what was going on. She rubbed her ear. A dark spot appeared in front of her right eye. She shook her head.

  ‘We have been keeping an eye on you.’

  Eva looked at Anya. The dark spot was gone. ‘Who is “we”?’

  ‘That will have to wait.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Eva slammed her hand against the emergency stop on the lift and it came to rest between the third and fourth floors.

  ‘You know that we’ll have to deal with reception now,’ said Anya, quietly, as the lift intercom began to buzz.

  ‘Tell me who you are and what your interest is in me – in this.’

  Anya met Eva’s gaze quite evenly. She seemed utterly unruffled. ‘I’m a friend, Eva, really – we are a network of friends.’

  ‘That’s not enough.’

  ‘What is it specifically you want to know?’

  The lift intercom was buzzing repeatedly now, with an intermittent voice being broadcast across it in German and then English.

  ‘I want to know what this network is, and, specifically, who you are.’

  ‘We are an international network of insiders, known only to each other.’

  ‘Sure you are.’

  ‘Do you want this information or not?’ asked Anya coolly.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We’re like the back-up plan, when official channels can’t necessarily achieve what needs to be done to meet an objective – that’s when we step in and help out.’

  ‘You’re the “black ops”.’

  ‘This isn’t a film, Eva.’

  ‘Frankly, it sounds just as fictional.’

  ‘I can’t tell you much more right now, you’re just going to have to trust me.’

  ‘Would you trust you?’

  Anya didn’t respond.

  Both women jumped as a grinding noise indicated the lift doors being forced open by someone. Eva could see one pair of feet on the carpeted floor, currently at her nose height. She was sure she recognised those shoes. Suddenly, Sam’s face appeared in the gap. He took a quick look at her and then – uninvited – began to
roll himself in through the space. Eva inhaled sharply.

  ‘Do you know him?’ Anya asked.

  ‘Yes, he’s my boyfriend,’ replied Eva, although she was slightly surprised at Sam’s behaviour.

  ‘What are you doing, Sam, just call the hotel staff.’

  But Sam was through the gap. He took a pace towards Eva and loomed over her. ‘Shut up.’

  Shocked, she shrank back.

  Sam turned towards Anya. Eva could see the other woman was confused, half on guard but half ready to welcome someone who, although unidentified, was more likely to be friend than foe.

  Perhaps it was that which caused her to miss the knife.

  Sam turned, bent his knees slightly and swung his right arm and fist at Anya’s stomach. Blood spurted out across the lift. Drops landed on Eva’s hands. She stared open-mouthed and, somewhere in the back of her throat, there was a gurgle that almost passed for a scream.

  Anya went down clutching at her stomach, her face as white as a sheet. She pulled something from an ankle holster as she fell to the floor and fired a small black gun up at Sam, shooting him through the shoulder. He took a stumbling step back from the impact, also looking slightly shocked, and then he lunged again at Anya.

  Instinctively, Eva threw herself in between the two. She knocked Sam sideways, punched him in the side of the head, jabbing her fingers into the softest part of his throat when he came at her again and hitting out at the panel of buttons on the elevator until one of them caused it to move again.

  Sam was reeling backwards as the doors opened behind him and he staggered, and almost fell, onto the cold, hard floor. Then, he regained his balance and grabbed Eva by the hair, pulling her over to him, where he could gain a better grip. He squashed her against him and she caught the distinctive iron smell as the wound in his shoulder started to bleed.

  Eva glanced back. Anya was lying in a heap on the floor of the lift. People in the reception had begun to realise something was happening. They looked at Anya and then at Eva and Sam. Eva thought she saw panic in Sam’s eyes. Run, she willed him. Just go.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he grabbed her and held to her neck the same blade he had just used on Anya.

  ‘Nobody move!’

  A hush fell across the busy reception.

  He hustled Eva sideways across the room and towards the reception doors.

  ‘If you move, I’ll stab her in the throat.’

  ‘Sam, stop. Let me go.’

  Eva was struggling to make sense of what was happening. This was Sam – docile, puppy dog Sam. He was millimetres away from cutting her throat. Was this revenge, anger, obsession? Somehow, she didn’t think so.

  ‘Sam…’ she began, trying to exercise the control she’d apparently had over him back in the UK.

  He flicked her head, so that his mouth was right up against her ear. ‘I mean it, shut up or I will cut you.’

  She shut her mouth. Glancing sideways she could see that his eyes were bloodshot. He was obviously in pain. This was not the same person.

  Who was he?

  Eva struggled to stay on her feet, trying to keep her throat from his knife as he dragged her out through the hotel doors and into the street. Sam’s wound was leaking blood, not gushing, but enough to leave a trail of drops on the pavement. Although she couldn’t see him, his movements indicated he was frantically looking first left and then right, as if trying to spot someone. He began to drag her away from the hotel entrance. Eva heard the unmistakable sound of Berlin police sirens in the distance.

  ‘Shit’, Sam muttered, and then pushed her up against the wall of the adjacent building. ‘Stay,’ he said, keeping the knife at her throat, as he reached for his phone.

  She glanced down at the screen. Sam quickly turned it from view. Had she seen what she thought she had?

  Eva stood still, trying to process the two words on Sam’s screen. She realised she was watching a man with a briefcase and curiously square glasses who was walking towards them. He seemed to have no reaction to what was happening in front of him – had he even realised? She looked at him but he looked away. People never wanted to become involved in someone else’s shit.

  And then, suddenly, the man with the briefcase turned towards them. She saw the muzzle of a silenced gun and Sam’s body jerked from hers. The knife grazed her throat as he fell.

  ‘Where’s Anya?’ The man was running towards her.

  Eva heard the screeching of tyres on the street.

  ‘Where’s Anya?’ he said again, more urgently this time.

  ‘She’s in the hotel,’ said Eva, pointing back in that direction, ‘in the lift.’ She was dazed and breathless. What on earth was going on?

  ‘Only get into the black car,’ said the man, as he set off at pace towards the hotel.

  A yellow van screeched to a halt on the opposite side of the street and the door sprung open. Eva began to run back towards the hotel. Only get in the black car… which black car?? There must be thousands in this city. And then she saw it, a black car driving stealthily towards the hotel, pulling up to a stop across the road. She ran over to it, just as the man emerged from the hotel with Anya over one shoulder, dragging Eva’s suitcase with one hand, her handbag – with her phone in – balanced on top. Eva ran and took the case from him but he seemed angry. He saw the yellow van and shouted at her ‘GO!’ and pushed her in the direction of the black car. Both doors on their side of the road opened. Eva jumped for the passenger seat as a hail of bullets came in their direction from the yellow van. Anya was now in one of the passenger seats behind her, the man next to her. And in the front seat was Irene.

  EIGHTEEN

  Eva was staring out of the window as the streets of West Berlin gave way to those of the East. Irene Hunt was driving the car in silence. From the seats behind, Eva could hear the sound of medical supplies being ripped open and a noise like liquid bubbling up. However, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and find out if Anya was likely to survive. Equally, she could not look at Irene. In fact, all she could do was sit and stare out of the window. It was as if a layer of white noise had settled around the outside of her brain. Disjointed thoughts came and went, half finished, uncertain and accompanied by underlying anxiety, building and building. Her heart was thudding in her chest, she felt she could hear it struggling from one beat to the next, as if the tension building up in every muscle, every vein, might overwhelm its ability to function.

  Then a thought occurred to her.

  I have to get out of the car.

  She heard it repeat through every recess of her brain.

  I have to get out of the car. NOW.

  She reached for the door handle.

  ‘Eva!’

  Irene’s shout was tense and high pitched.

  Eva stopped.

  She looked at her hand on the door handle of the passenger side; she had been about to open the door and step out. The car was still moving.

  She removed her hand from the door handle and glanced over at Irene.

  ‘You’re in shock, Eva. Just sit still.’

  It was an order but Eva found it comforting. She could just sit still, she could do that, yes. It was fine to let someone else take over until her brain returned to normal speed. She felt as if it was swelling, anxiety and confusion creating a ballooning mass that at any moment could burst the fragile bone of her skull.

  Eva sucked in a thin breath, through bluish lips.

  She forced herself to sit back in the seat and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat with normal thoughts. She watched as they drove along Friedrichstraße, past the original Checkpoint Charlie, crossing from west to east as few had wanted to do in the years Berlin had been divided by the giant Wall.

  As the car continued its steady pace and the architecture began to change around her, Eva forced herself to think, not about her own situation, b
ut the struggle for freedom that had taken place in this city, not that long ago. If the people could survive that kind of brutally incomprehensible regime then she had no right to crumble under whatever was happening to her now. It was a tenuous comparison but it was all she had.

  ‘What can you tell me about that back there?’

  Her voice was calm. Amazing what the power of reflection can achieve, she thought to herself, as the physical symptoms of her panic began to subside.

  She felt Irene’s gaze on her. The other woman was looking at Eva’s hand, which was resting not far from the passenger door.

  She withdrew her hand to her lap.

  ‘I’m fine, Irene, really.’

  Irene turned back to the road. ‘To be honest, I’m surprised that your first question wasn’t about my presence here, Eva.’

  Eva glanced across the car.

  Irene and Eva had never made things easy for one another. Both headstrong, both stubborn, both used to having their own way.

  ‘Did you know I tried to get hold of you in London a week ago?’

  Irene nodded at the road. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Apparently, you never lived at the house where I visited you with Leon.’

  ‘You know I can’t discuss that with you, Eva.’

  Eva felt resentment building. ‘Need to know’ had never really worked for her. As far as she was concerned, she needed to know everything.

  She was interrupted by a gasp from behind.

  ‘Irene, she’s bleeding out,’ said the man sitting in the seat behind Eva. ‘We must get her to a medic.’

  ‘You know I can’t drive any faster than this, Sassan, we cannot draw attention to ourselves. Anya will be fine.’

  Eva stared at the side of Irene’s face. It wasn’t the first time she had seen this woman, and her will of iron, in action but it was the first time she had been in a car with someone bleeding profusely and Irene had just refused to do anything to help.