Jackson took a step back and opened his mouth to speak.
Eva pushed herself up slightly on the bed, raised her hand and slapped his face with all her strength.
TWENTY SEVEN
It felt strange to Eva to be sitting in a car alongside her brother after all these years, almost unbelievable in fact. She had so much to ask him, she didn’t know where to start. A part of her still couldn’t process being in the same space with him. She had thought about it so much, she had almost created a memory from it. Although she had never anticipated this sense of detachment – it was almost as if she was sharing a car with a complete stranger. Which, in a way, perhaps, she was. He didn’t feel, smell or respond like Jackson. If it wasn’t for the fact he looked and sounded identical to her brother, she wouldn’t be sitting in the car with him at all.
Although there was an incredible amount of ground to cover – where he had been for the last couple of years, the truth about his relationships with Valerie and Leon, why she seemed to be drawn constantly into his vapour trail – right at this moment there were more pressing matters. Although initially she had understood that they were to stay put and wait for the scars to heal, apparently now they needed to be on the move – fast.
After a short conversation in the bedroom at the house where he had taken her, he had clingfilmed her wounds and given her time to shower, presenting her with clothes to replace the hospital scrubs she had inhabited for far too long. The shower had made Eva lightheaded but being clean felt good and she was surprised to find the light burgundy-coloured jumper and black jeans fitted almost perfectly. As soon as she was dressed, she had hunted for her bag, her phone – before remembering she no longer had either. She’d sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around her at the plain room. She might be conscious, clean and mobile but she was still entirely in someone else’s hands – and at their mercy.
In theory, she was at the mercy of her brother, risen from the dead. However, Eva did not believe in miracles and nothing Jackson had done over the past decade had been for the benefit of anyone other than himself.
Why appear now?
Eva had needed him so much over the past couple of years. Why choose that very moment to come for her? Then, there was the question of how the hell he had known where she was. At the back of her mind, Eva also couldn’t ignore the suspicion she felt for his motives. Leon, she knew, was a mercenary. Valerie, it seemed, had been one also. They were people who cared little for bonds, whether they were blood or friendship. If these were the people Jackson had chosen to be his closest friends, what did that say about him and how little he valued those who loved him?
Eva wanted so much to believe this was the start of something new, an era of not feeling so alone, of not constantly finding herself filled with questions about the past. But she knew naïve impulsiveness was always a mistake.
Eva looked across the car at the profile familiar for so many years. She wanted to reach out and touch his face, to make sure it was him, but she didn’t dare. He seemed to be terrified of physical contact.
After she had slapped him he had turned to the wall, his heads in his hands.
It was odd behaviour.
Eva had not remarked on it. But the memory had stuck in her mind, nevertheless.
She gazed at the road ahead, an endless strip of tarmac speared through the centre with a broken chalk white line.
She wondered whether there would ever be a point when she felt secure or was able to trust even someone who was her own flesh and blood.
It did not seem likely.
Before they had left the house, they had eaten a lunch of bread and ham. Eva had consumed her food at breakneck speed, as if, at any moment, someone might attempt to take the food away from her. At first, her stomach had protested. She tried to remember the last time she had eaten anything solid but could not.
Jackson had explained they needed to start driving but that was all he said. He had not responded to questioning. In fact he had completely clammed up. Like a sullen child.
This had both troubled and annoyed her. That irritation had only grown when he had spent almost the entire confrontation continuously touching his face. What was it they said about people who touched their faces when they spoke? Eva was sure it indicated lying.
They had left the house, a farmhouse positioned on its own in a huge field of artichokes, and driven off in a dark blue Fiat with scratches down one side.
That was several hours ago. The sun had set. The countryside had gradually fallen into black. With darkness, had come the anxiety of reduced perception. The car began to feel like more of a confined space. Eva became more and more nervous about her companion, their destination and her lack of either money or ability to communicate with anyone in the outside world. But she was too afraid to strike out on her own and, besides, this was her brother…
However, as something at the back of her mind kept repeating, she still didn’t know where they were going.
She was also hungry once again. No, starving. But, as the day had drawn on, they had seen very little other than empty roads, closed shops and restaurants.
‘We’ll stop here,’ Jackson said, suddenly interrupting Eva as she was about to speak. ‘I know the man who owns this restaurant, there is a private room where we can eat undisturbed.’
Eva nodded and unfastened her seatbelt as the car came to a halt. She had not even noticed they were driving through a built-up area. She was starting to feel incredibly distracted by her arms – they were still stinging like crazy but she’d had enough of feeling drugged and so refused pain medication when Jackson eventually offered to buy some. It had not helped the condition of her arms to slap Jackson as she had. But it had made her feel much better.
The siblings left the car, slamming their doors at the same time, and walking towards the restaurant, which had rustic stone walls and a small wooden door. It was late and the restaurant would be closing soon.
Jackson was a good five inches taller than Eva. He was broad shouldered, straight backed and there was no doubting the strength that lay beneath his blue anorak. Eva was slim, light footed and shorter, but there was an unmistakable similarity between the two, a quiet power that made them an intimidating pair.
Jackson pushed open the door of the restaurant and held it for Eva to walk through. She hesitated, just for a second, and he noted the lack of trust.
Inside, the restaurant was as rustic as the outside. Kitsch wasn’t even the word.
Tables laid with checked red and white paper cloths, pink paper napkins and squat French wine glasses were positioned around the room.
Jackson left Eva standing at the door and crossed the room to speak to a man behind the bar.
Eva found herself under the unwavering gaze of two elderly women, who looked slightly the worse for wear. They were sitting on the same side of the table, cradling the stems of wine glasses. Neither spoke.
It was a relief when Jackson said her name and led her through to a room behind the bar. Although nothing more than a stockroom, containing furniture, there was somewhere comfortable to sit and it was at least warm.
‘We just need something to eat, Jacques. And I’ll take a brandy and a packet of Marlboro.’
‘Me too,’ said Eva, feeling a spike of warmth at the sibling similarity in taste. Their father always proffered brandy in situations like this.
She took a seat at an unsteady table and looked at the cobwebs around the top of the musty room. On one side, it was piled high with cases of beer, which seemed odd given that she had noticed several taps at the bar. The other side of the room was given over to piles of old newspapers, some toys and a huge heap of clothes. This reminded Eva, again, that she had absolutely nothing with her – no clothes, no phone, no money. In fact, not since Berlin could she remember having access to her personal possessions, including the phone that everyone – including Leon �
� had seemed so interested in stealing from her. With a start, she realised her father and friends must be worried sick about her. They would not have heard from her for – how long? She had no idea. The thought created guilt which plucked at her insides. But that would have to wait for now.
When ‘Jacques’ left the room, Jackson pulled out an old model phone and typed something into the keypad, before turning to face her.
‘I stopped because I sensed you had a lot of questions.’
‘One or two.’
‘Such as, where have I been all these years?’
‘That was one of them, yes.’
Eva gazed at the features of the face she knew so well. A shadow passed over them.
‘I’m sorry, Eva, but I can’t tell you.’
‘That’s not a great start.’
The brandies and cigarettes arrived and Eva immediately reached for the packet.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ said her brother, admonishingly.
‘I imagine there’s quite a lot you don’t know about me now.’
‘Maybe not as much as you think.’
Eva stopped with the cigarette in her mouth and a lit match in her hand. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I haven’t been entirely off the chart for the past year.’
‘And…’
‘I have been keeping an eye on you.’
‘On my movements?
‘Yes, and on you.’
‘In what way?’
‘What happened with Leon?’
Eva lit the suspended cigarette, took a drag, choked, exhaled and then took another drag, taking her time to disguise her surprise at the question.
‘Come off it, Jack,’ she said, blowing smoke into his face as she spoke, ‘you’re telling me you know everything I’ve done over the past couple of years and that’s the only question you’ve got?’
She watched as he also lit a cigarette, picked up an ashtray from the floor and put it between them on the table.
‘He’s a dangerous man.’
‘No shit.’
Jackson gave her a look.
‘Did you sleep with him?’
Eva exhaled with frustration. ‘No. I’m not doing this. After all this time, everything that has happened, you’re not going to do the big brother thing with me, ok?’
She watched Jackson’s jaw clamp shut.
‘He just has this effect on women, Eva. I need to know whether he has that same hold over you.’
It was a weak line of enquiry. Eva answered, she realised, from vanity.
‘I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t. Of course, there’s the fact he tried to drive me off a cliff too – kind of a passion killer.’
Eva was happy to maintain a humorous edge to her conversation with Jackson. It felt like a buffer, grasping at normality in what was a completely abnormal situation. Otherwise, it might all feel a little too much. She was very much aware her body was vibrating with anxiety, her eyes were a little too wide, her voice a pitch higher. She feared everything from the destination of this journey to the fact that Jackson knew the owner of this remote restaurant.
‘Are you talking about the effect he had on Valerie?’ asked Eva, as she saw a strange look come into her brother’s eyes. Leon was an easy topic for him, Valerie evidently not so much. At the mention of the woman’s name, immediately Jackson’s face, which had started to appear as she remembered it, was closed off again.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Leon told me she slept with him. I don’t think he thought you knew.’
‘Of course I knew.’ Jackson sounded angry. Maybe a bit too angry.
‘It was all her you know, she set up the whole thing.’
‘I know,’ he said, standing up and pushing the chair back so forcefully it skidded across the floor and fell over. He walked to the corner and smoked several breaths in succession. Then he walked calmly back to her. He was not like Leon, Jackson had far more self control.
He picked up the chair and sat down again.
‘Why don’t we talk about you?’
‘I don’t think we’ve talked about you, yet. Have you had any contact with Valerie?’
‘She’s dead, Eva. You killed her.’
Eva withered slightly on the end of the accusatory stare. ‘She would have killed me if I hadn’t.’
‘It doesn’t matter any more. I don’t know why you’re asking.’
He shook his head and stubbed out the cigarette. Although he was still reserved, he seemed far more emotional than when she had known him in ‘real life’. That familiar controlled façade was there but, every now and again, the door swung open to reveal the tumult inside. Although his eyes gave nothing away, somehow she had never felt so able to read Jackson as she did now; it was odd.
‘It might have been all the drugs they were pumping into me but I’m pretty sure I saw her at that château.’
Slowly, Jackson raised his eyes and looked at her.
‘Valerie,’ he said in a dead sounding voice. ‘You saw Valerie?’
Eva nodded. ‘I’m almost one hundred per cent sure.’
‘Almost?’
‘Almost.’
She waited for him to say something else but he didn’t.
‘Whilst we’re on the subject of the château, why was I there and how did you come to find me?’
It was the burning question she had been dying to ask but, for some reason, she had felt it might be the one question Jackson would refuse to answer.
Jacques suddenly entered the room with a bang of the door and pushed two plates of a thick looking stew onto the table, each one garnished with an enormous piece of bread.
The smell rose into Eva’s nostrils and her stomach ached with hunger. Other than half a pig’s worth of ham, she couldn’t even remember the last time she had eaten proper food.
As soon as Jacques turned his back, she set upon the dish with gusto, unaware of the looks from her brother, who was slowly spooning the rich dark liquid into his mouth.
The stew tasted incredible, filled with beans, meat, onions, carrots and the sharp taste of fennel. Eva cleared her plate in five minutes flat, pushed it away and looked over at Jackson’s. He laughed and pushed it across the table to her and she finished it too. After that, she lit another cigarette.
She felt fat and content.
‘Where were we?’
Jackson shook his head. ‘I just don’t know how much I could or should tell you right now, that’s the problem, Eva. It could put you in a position of real danger.’
She laughed at him and drained the brandy glass. She felt slightly tipsy.
‘You don’t want to put me in danger?’
‘No,’ he insisted.
‘That’s hilarious.’
‘It’s not funny.’
‘You really don’t have to tell me that.’
‘It could be even worse than this.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Seriously.’
‘Just tell me.’
TWENTY EIGHT
‘A joke. This must be a joke.’
The staccato sentence echoed from the microphone in the side of the laptop. It melted away into a sinister silence. The man with the Mediterranean tan sat looking at the screen. He had a bullet hole in his head.
From behind the chair in which the corpse sat – sat? could a corpse sit? – Paul stood still. He was, himself, in a state of shock as this was not something he had planned to do. He was nervous. He knew he had essentially made a mistake – perhaps a serious mistake – and he wished he had more control over his temper. This hadn’t been part of the plan.
He looked at the three faces on the screen in front of him and knew they were watching him, waiting for a reaction. That was why he was hiding behind the dead man’s chair
. Like a shy child behind its father.
He doubted these three men cared personally about the loss but he knew they would care very much about any impact it might have on their carefully laid plans. They were no doubt assessing him right now, wondering whether he could fill the enormous shoes he had caused to be vacated by silencing the pompous old man for good.
Which, of course, he regretted now. But this was the one action that simply could not be undone.
As he waited, for either a response from the screen or for some kind of inspiration to strike, Paul tried to be positive. On the upside, the other man could have revealed him at any time and that threat was now gone. On the downside, he had very little knowledge of the people for whom the pair had been working – he had not been given any information when he was parachuted in, although it was clear those supplying the parachute certainly knew plenty about them. The older man had been a shield, an additional layer of defence that he no longer had.
The silence in the room – and across the internet connection – was beginning to feel oppressive.
Finally, he took a step forward so he was next to the chair in which the dead man sat, rather than behind it. He tipped the screen of the laptop so they could see his face.
‘I will handle this.’
The answer was instant, angry. ‘How? You have absolutely no idea what you need to handle.’
‘I can do this, honestly, just tell me what needs to be done.’ There was a part of Paul that just wanted these men to have faith in him. It was a part that surprised him. Why was he always searching for approval?
‘There is a great deal about this situation that you aren’t aware of. We have three teams working without any knowledge of each other and it was up to him…’ there was a pause while everyone regarded the silent, dead man, ‘to ensure that all worked separately, but together.’
‘I can do this.’ Paul realised he may as well have finished the sentence with ‘Dad’.
He shook the thought from his head. ‘Honestly, I have been observing him, I can step up.’
‘It is not ideal.’ The comment was between the talking heads.
Killing Eva Page 21
