My leg started jigging up and down. ‘Yeah, originally.’
‘I love Japan. I went there twice and everyone is so polite and... what is the word? Never mind. Everyone is so polite. I like how you bow. I like... er... hierarchy. I would not get seen by a guard at a train station because I looked like a westerner and the Japanese queue up behind me refusing to be served until I am. Wonderful. And the food is wonderful!’
‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.’
The more he talked to me as though we were lunch-dating, the more he terrified me. I decided I would not cry in front of him. No matter how scared I was, I would not cry.
‘You’d better hurry up,’ I said, sitting on my hands. ‘If you hang about too long this guy called Mark Chester might walk in and you really don’t want to meet him.’
Something in Katz’s face changed. ‘Mark... Chester?’
‘Yeah, this is his place.’
‘Mark Chester’s apartment?’
‘One of them, I suppose. I get the impression he has a few. Why? Do you know him?’
Katz glanced at Yakimov. ‘Yes, I know him. I don’t know this place. I don’t know him... closely, but I... You’re living in one of Mark Chester’s apartments? Why?’
I was struck by the crazy idea that name-dropping Mark might save my life. ‘He was helping me with a job actually, tracking someone down. I just came from there.’
Katz stood up and took a few steps towards me. He looked down and searched my face, and reached down and slowly turned my head to the side. His hands were freezing and his touch like leaves. He ran a finger over my neck, hesitated and then turned my face into the light and examined my swollen eye. He stepped back, smiling.
‘Blood,’ he said, going back to his position on the arm of the sofa and eyeing my bag. ‘You are quite the mystery, no? Where did you come from?’
‘I just killed someone actually.’
‘Who?’
‘No one you know.’
Another glance was exchanged between the two of them.
‘I’m sorry about Alexei and Isaak,’ I said, not feeling remorseful at all but thinking it was a tactful thing to say. ‘They were going to kill me anyway so... I’m sorry, they were probably related to you guys, right?’
‘They were related, but not to me.’ Katz’s expression was disdainful. ‘It is only now I find out about you. They were stupid, reckless. They should have seen what was going to happen; they did not think about the consequences.’
Yakimov snapped something in Russian again, gesticulating.
Katz raised his voice and stood up to reply and cut him off.
I shrank a little lower.
‘You have some choices to make, Seven,’ Katz said, turning to me again with no trace of anger left in his voice. ‘I can shoot you, right now, in the head... right there.’ He pointed at me, two fingers extended, thumb in the air. ‘It will be quick.’
I swallowed. Here it was. ‘OK. What’s the other option?’
‘You bring your money and your... fake passport and your clever brain inside that pretty face of yours and you come and work for me.’
Yakimov put his head in his hands.
I watched Katz’s face, which remained still, for any sign of a joke. It must be a joke. He was trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then shoot me.
‘I’m... sorry? What?’
‘I would like you to come and work for me. One of you would be worth two of Alexei and Isaak, after all. You could think of it as a compensation, you working for me.’
My mouth fell open as I racked my brains for the sinister subtext, but I couldn’t find one in his tone or in his demeanour. ‘You want me to come and work for you? After all this... you’re offering me a job?’
‘I am offering you their jobs. You have a face no one would accuse of anything and you think... forgive me, but you think like a man. I mean this as a compliment. Killing you would be of no use to me. I take no delight in killing for fun; this is not a game. I like people with brains working for me and I think you are perfect.’
A slideshow of a new future moved behind my eyes. I had no doubt that Roman Katz was a charming and opportunistic psychopath, like the rest of them, but what did I have to lose really?
‘Are you serious?’
‘I am never not serious. My wife uses an American way of speaking when she says I have a sense of humour bypass.’ He chuckled but Yakimov was now glaring at him. ‘Her American is far superior to mine.’
‘What would you want me to do?’
‘Anything I want.’ His smile was dead; everything about him looked dead. ‘But you would be paid a lot. More than you are now. More than you can expect anywhere else.’
I tried to choose my words carefully for once in my life. ‘And what if I say no? Is that not one of my choices?’
‘You could say no, but why would you?’
‘I’d like to go home.’
‘To Japan?’
I nodded.
‘It is understandable. Are your parents there? Your boyfriend or something?’
‘My parents are dead and... But there are people there.’
Katz folded his arms and shrugged. ‘OK, so you have a love there. But what would you do? Love does not put food on your table or buy you a nice house... nice car. What would you do for a living? The same job you do here? You would dress up that great mind and go take your clothes off for rich men again? Would you be satisfied with that?’
I reddened. ‘Maybe not, but the only reason I did all of this was so I could go home, and if I have a choice then I should at least try. Otherwise this would have all been for nothing and I don’t think I could live with that... assuming you let me live, of course.’
Yakimov sneered at me and said, ‘Not if I had my way.’
‘Silence!’ Katz whirled upwards and drew a gun from inside his jacket, jamming it against Yakimov’s head and spitting, ‘I have heard enough from you with your insubordination! Shut the fuck up or I make a third job for someone to fill! You never fucking question me again!’
Yakimov had both hands above his head, breathing hard, eyes to the floor. ‘I apologize.’
I wished I hadn’t chosen to start the debate about going home. It might come across as pushing my luck. I picked at my nails until the atmosphere subsided and Katz put the gun away.
He shrugged. ‘If you want to go, you can go. That was a third choice.’
I didn’t believe him. ‘You wouldn’t just let me go. What’s the catch?’
‘There is no catch, not for me. I just know that you will be back.’ He sounded so damn certain as he stood up and handed me a business card. ‘When you change your mind, which you will, you will go to this restaurant, ask for a seat in the upstairs bar and ask for a glass of port. Then I will come and see you, and we will talk.’
I took the card and my hand shook. His fingers lingered on mine for a while.
‘And you think I’ll definitely come back then?’ I said, my voice catching in my throat.
‘It’s what you’re good for.’ He saw right into me, right through me. ‘You know it.’
36
As I walked I couldn’t stop looking behind me, peering inside buildings and through the windows of passing cars, but as far as I could tell no one was following me. Katz had seen something, the same thing that Mark had, the psychopathy that Darsi Howiantz had talked about. It made me feel disgusting inside, that he might have looked into me and seen something cold and unfeeling that he wanted to exploit.
Noel called. I wanted to ignore it but if I ignored it I’d never have another chance to speak to him. I wondered if he already knew everything, or whether I’d be afforded one more conversation untarnished by betrayal and violence and deception.
I answered the phone, halting in the middle of the street and letting groups of tourists walk around me in the dying light.
My passport was in my pocket. I felt broken inside.
‘Hey, what are you doing
?’ He had that voice on, the one he always put on with me when he was tired and horny. ‘Come over.’
I hated how much I wanted to see him again; hated how weak it made me. I took the phone away from my ear for a moment to think. There wouldn’t be a flight at this time of night anyway. I could either sleep at Noel’s or sleep in an airport.
‘Hello? Are you there? Seven?’
‘Hey, sorry.’ I put the phone back to my ear and wiped sweat from my forehead. ‘One condition.’
‘Anything, my lady.’
I put on such a coquettish voice that I physically cringed. ‘You switch your phone off and focus all your attention on me... I miss you.’
‘Done! Make haste!’
It’s what I’m good for. The hand holding my phone dropped to my side with a despondent and audible thump after I hung up. It’s what I’m good for.
We didn’t talk much until the following morning, when Noel seemed happier than I’d seen him in weeks, in his relaxed and sweaty post-sex state. It was only in the heat that the make-up I’d used to cover my black eye had started to run and he suddenly sat up on his elbows and frowned.
‘Are you OK, baby? You have a... thing?’
I went to touch my eye but it was still tender. ‘Oh, it’s nothing, I just hit my face on a table.’
‘You’re the least clumsy person I know.’ His expression darkened. ‘Did someone hit you?’
‘Of course not.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Who would hit me?’
‘Hm...’
The wedding ring was gone. He must have seen me check because he became quiet and took a few seconds to think about his words.
‘We’re getting divorced,’ he said.
I was too surprised to say anything tactful. ‘Oh.’
‘She hasn’t just left, she...’
‘She really asked for a divorce?’
‘No.’ He grinned. ‘Actually I asked. Thanks for the assumption.’
‘Shit, sorry. What changed? I mean... you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t—’
‘She made me feel like a child, in every way really. She was smarter than me, more mature. It wasn’t even her fault she made me feel like that, it was actually me that was just... too insecure to deal with it. I always expected her to come to her senses and leave eventually so, like an idiot, I started trying to give her reasons to.’ He snorted. ‘I suppose a psychologist would probably say I was trying to feel in control of the situation. I just wanted to feel that, when she left me, it would be for something really shit and horrible I’d done instead of looking at me one day and realizing I’m... nowhere near fucking good enough for her.’
I sat up on my elbows also and rubbed his arm.
‘But I feel OK,’ he said, nodding. ‘I didn’t ask for a divorce to... finally make her leave me, I asked because I couldn’t keep doing this fucking tragic dance any more. She’s here, she’s not, she’s here, she’s not... It was rough... for both of us. She would never ask though. She’s too kind.’
So it wasn’t because of me. It wasn’t because of what happened going into the lift. That confirmation brought me a little relief.
‘What about work?’ I asked, lying back down again.
‘Oh, Nic called with some good news.’ He turned on to his side to face me. ‘Some good news. He hasn’t got it totally sorted but... I don’t think we’re going to be seeing much trouble any more. He’s great, so fucking worth the money. You ever met him?’
‘No,’ I lied. ‘Never. I’ve seen him pick Daisy up a few times.’
‘He’s a funny guy. Really... weird. Him and Daisy are a really fucking weird couple of people.’
‘Yeah, I think Daisy’s been to a few too many acid raves in her life.’
He laughed, childlike. ‘Remember that time she came running in and said that John Lennon had been shot?’
‘Haha, yeah, fuck that was funny... And you said—’
‘Yeah, I said that was a long time ago, Daisy.’ He shook his head. ‘And then she said it must have been Elton John cos she heard it on the radio, but there was nothing. I still don’t know what the fuck she thought she heard, sometimes I think she’s just fucking... hallucinating.’
I let the smile linger and then fade from my face.
‘Do you want a coffee?’ I asked, glancing at his clock.
It was nine-thirty, at least three hours before Noel liked to get up.
‘Yeah, if you’re up.’ He rolled over and shut his eyes, flushed and oblivious.
I got out of bed and put on my underwear to go and put the kettle on. Then I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Once inside I stood and stopped myself from hyperventilating. It was almost too much to be near him, thinking that at any moment he would get a call or there would be a knock at the door... I had slept, but not well. I never slept well any more. That was my punishment.
Shaking myself out, I pushed myself into action and I opened his bathroom cabinet to see a line of pill boxes.
There were mood stabilizers, anti-depressants, contraceptives and sleeping pills. I took out a few more sleeping pills than the recommended dose and took them with me into the kitchen, checking Noel was still in bed. It wouldn’t be enough to harm him, just knock him out for a while. He’d probably feel nauseous when he awoke but that was it.
I mashed them up in one of the fancy pestle and mortars that I’d never found any other use for in Noel’s overly glamorous kitchen.
When the kettle stopped boiling I mixed them into his coffee, gave it a few minutes to calm down and then brought it back through to the bedroom.
‘Hey, you not having anything?’ He sat up against the headboard to take the mug from me and instantly gulped down half of it.
‘You know I don’t drink anything you have.’
‘You’re so straightedge.’ He raised his eyebrows at me and almost entirely finished the coffee.
I got back into bed, cuddled up to him and waited, tense and watching the clock.
Noel looked down at me and gave me a nudge.
‘You’re lovely,’ he said, with genuine warmth. ‘I know you’re like super tough and that’s what you want people to think of you and everything. But I think you’re lovely.’
I hugged him tighter. I couldn’t say anything.
You’re a piece of shit, I thought, hating myself. You’re the worst kind of person.
I lay there for what felt like years, willing him to fall asleep, when he finally put the mug down by the side of the bed and lay down next to me.
‘You still tired?’ I asked, my voice so quiet it barely rippled the silence.
‘Hm...’ He rubbed his eyes but didn’t open them. ‘Thought coffee was meant to... Hm.’
That was the last thing I heard him say to me.
I waited for ten more minutes before sitting up and out of his embrace.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I turned away and sat on the edge of the bed putting my clothes back on. I checked for the umpteenth time that I still had my passport and stood up. I looked back once, from the bedroom doorway, and he was peaceful. I’d never had to see his fury or his hatred in person. At least the last memory I had would be a good one.
I went into the kitchen and couldn’t find any paper so I sat at the table and wrote a letter on the back of a brown A4 envelope.
Dear Noel,
This is a confession.
I wanted you to know that I have betrayed and stolen from you and even killed, and for that I will never forgive myself. I never wanted things to go this far. I hope you can believe that I never ever would have hurt you.
I’m sorry. I couldn’t be more sorry.
Seven
Then I started crying, on my own in the middle of his silent and pristine flat. I wanted to go back and look at him, one last time, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I stood up, hot tears running down my face and into my hands and on to the brown A4 envelope with my confession on it. When I thought I’d finally stopped I just cried some more; the so
rt of crying that made it hard to breathe or even think, the sort of crying that felt like a coma I was never going to wake up from.
Nothing, not the money or my flight or my passport, could make me feel hope or relief. It wasn’t worth it, I realized. It didn’t feel worth it now that I’d fucked over one of the only people I knew alive that had cared for me properly; cared for me in a way that was almost pure and untarnished and true.
Hunched over my knees, I sobbed until I felt I didn’t have the strength to walk.
But I knew I had to walk so, weak and trembling, I left.
37
I left the taxi and crossed the street towards the Underground, my convictions gone. I wanted to hand myself in, give up, but I’d come too far now. I couldn’t spend the rest of my life thinking about Noel, because I was going home, because Seiko would know I was thinking about someone else.
The back door was unlocked, which was surprising. I assumed that Daisy had forgotten to lock up properly the night before and let myself in.
I went straight into the dressing rooms and put on one of Coralie’s fur-rimmed parkas that she always left overnight. There wasn’t any extra cash in the dressing tables; just make-up, make-up remover and pieces of cheap costume jewellery. I took a string of fake pearls, for the hell of it.
My reflection was a state, pale and dishevelled and scared, so I covered the cuts and bruises as best I could with the stupid chiffon scarf and brushed my hair. My eyes were blank. I’d never seen them so clear.
Everything I needed was standing out to me, as if in high definition. My breathing was shallow and fast, but I wasn’t trembling any more.
‘Move,’ I said aloud to myself. ‘Money. Get the money.’
I fumbled with the key to my locker and felt for my passport in my pocket for the third time. It was still there. I opened the locker and the bag of money wasn’t in it. I slammed the door shut and opened it again, in case it had reappeared. But it hadn’t. Of course it hadn’t. It was gone.
‘Fuck!’ I kicked out, starting to panic. ‘Fuck!’
Daisy. It had to have been fucking Daisy...
Girl Seven Page 23
