A Time to Die

by Tom Wood

‘What kind of a gathering?’

  ‘A coming together of like-minded fellows of means. I hold them every so often for esteemed associates.’

  ‘I’m honoured to receive an invite.’

  ‘You have earned your place in the court of your king where riches of all kinds can be yours.’

  Victor said, ‘I like the sound of that.’

  ‘I thought you might. Make sure you’re suitably attired.’

  FIFTY-SIX

  When Victor entered her room, she was lying on the bed, on top of the covers, half-naked in the only slip of clothing she was allowed, her face pinched and damp with sweat, eyes shut tight. She didn’t hear him enter, but her unconscious detected his presence and she bolted awake, jumping to her feet – at first because she feared all who entered this place, but when she saw it was him she did not fall back to the bed on which she had been sleeping. Anticipation maintained her momentum.

  She had fresh bruises. These ones were on her legs. Victor recognised them as marks left by fingers gripping far tighter than any finger needed to grip.

  ‘We’re running out of time,’ he said. ‘You were right about Rados having me followed, but it wasn’t his own men. It was cops. They might not yet have witnessed anything to expose me, but if they’re following me it’s inevitable they’ll also be investigating my alias. It’s inevitable they’ll realise I’m not who I’m supposed to be. I have to act fast or I might not get another chance, so I really hope you’ve found out where the other brothel is located.’

  ‘Rados doesn’t have another brothel,’ she said. ‘He keeps the best women for parties.’

  ‘What kind of parties?’

  ‘They’re for his friends,’ she explained. ‘At one of his houses.’

  ‘I think I’ve been invited to one, tonight. Rados told me he has gatherings every so often for esteemed associates. The women must be there as entertainment for those he wants to impress and curry favour with.’

  ‘Good for you,’ she said, pushing tendrils of damp hair from her face. ‘He must like you.’

  He didn’t tell her why – that Rados believed he had saved his life – but he said, ‘It’s no help to me. I don’t know where his house is nor what to expect when I get to the party. I can’t go in blind and unarmed with all Rados’ men there protecting him.’

  ‘Zoca won’t be there,’ she said.

  ‘Because he looks a mess.’

  She shook her head. ‘He never gets invited.’

  ‘He doesn’t?’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘And if he doesn’t go to the parties then the rest of Rados’ thugs won’t either.’

  She approached the wardrobe.

  He thought about Zoca and the Varangians: hardened criminals and paramilitaries; Rados’ barbarians. He wouldn’t have them littering up the place and drawing attention while making the wealthy clients uncomfortable.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That makes sense. But it still doesn’t mean I can get a weapon inside.’

  ‘Maybe you can’t,’ she said, opening the wardrobe, ‘but I can.’

  Inside, hung a black evening gown, fresh from a dry cleaner, still inside a cellophane protector.

  ‘You’re going to be there?’ he asked.

  ‘The dress was brought up earlier. I didn’t realise why until now. Why else would they have given it to me? I’m obviously going to be there for you. Because they think you like me.’

  He thought back to his previous conversation with Rados. I prefer familiarity… I’ll bear that in mind.

  ‘You have a gun?’ she asked, and he nodded. ‘They won’t search me. I’m a prisoner. I’m no one. They won’t think even for a second that I might have a weapon.’

  He hesitated.

  She continued, ‘You said yourself, time is running out. This is your best chance to kill Rados. I can sneak your gun in there, and you can take it from me once you’re inside too.’

  It was a simple plan, but it had merit. In the absence of any other he drew his Five-seveN. She recoiled from it, frightened by the sight of a gun even though she was expecting to see it.

  He released the magazine and slipped it into a pocket.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I can sneak the mag inside myself,’ he said.

  ‘Why do you need to?’

  He didn’t answer.

  She said, ‘You don’t trust me with a loaded gun?’

  He shook his head. ‘You could be tempted to use it, and I wouldn’t blame you for doing so. But Rados’ men have guns of their own and it’ll only end badly.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t care about dying any more.’

  ‘My point, exactly.’

  She said, ‘You don’t want me to get killed with your gun in my hand, do you?’

  ‘That’s right. It wouldn’t help either of us. I’ll kill Rados at the party, then I’ll get us both out of there.’

  ‘Will it work?’

  She wanted assurance. She wanted guarantees. He could provide neither. She saw this and her head slumped. Whatever hope he had given her had been diminished already.

  ‘I think you were having a nightmare when I came in,’ he said to change the subject.

  She didn’t react straight away. Then she became self-conscious – aware of her half-nakedness and her unkempt appearance. She pulled her knees up to her chest, ankles touching, and tried to comb her hair with her fingers. He made sure not to watch her.

  She said, ‘I didn’t mind the nightmares when I was here before. They meant I was asleep, not awake. Nothing I dreamed about could ever be as bad as reality.’ Her head rose and she looked at him. ‘I didn’t thank you before, for not asking my name.’ She couldn’t smile, but for a second her face didn’t look as pained. ‘Thank you for giving me some degree of privacy in this place. My name is the only thing I have left that’s truly mine.’

  ‘I know how you feel.’

  ‘I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,’ she said, misunderstanding. ‘I don’t want your sympathy and I don’t need it.’

  Victor said nothing, but he nodded to show agreement. It seemed polite.

  ‘Maybe if you do get me out of here I’ll tell you my name then.’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ he said.

  The silence lasted a while. She looked at the gun, examining it as if she had never seen one up close before. Maybe she hadn’t.

  ‘What happens if those cops have found out something about you?’ she asked. ‘What if they’ve told Rados?’

  It was a good question. He considered his answer, but she didn’t like the pause.

  ‘He’ll kill you, won’t he? And if he tries and fails, then you won’t come back here for me, will you?’

  Victor remained silent.

  She said, ‘Then you need to give me the bullets.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Give them to me.’

  Victor said, ‘We stick to the plan. You do your part and I’ll do mine.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. I want out of here. Now.’

  ‘That’s impossible. You’re going to have to wait until tonight.’

  ‘You’re full of shit. I’m never going to see you again. Once you walk out of that door then it’s over, isn’t it?’

  ‘I have a job to finish and I’m going to finish it. You help me do it, and you’ll be free.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you. If you don’t get me out of here I’m going to tell them what you’re doing here. I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs and then you’re going to take the gun back and get us both out of here, because if you don’t I’m going to tell them what you told me. I’m going to tell them you plan to kill —’

  In an instant she was against the wall and he had his hand on her throat. She was as shocked by the speed of his transformation as she was scared by it. Her gaze was fixed on his own.

  ‘It’s really not smart to threaten me,’ Victor said. ‘If there is one thing you don’t want it’s for me to think of this arr
angement as not worth the risk.’

  She said nothing.

  He said, ‘We have a deal that I will stick to. I’ll get you out of here. You have my word. But after I’ve done my job.We do it my way and you had better stick to your part of the deal. Do not play games with me. Do not threaten me. Do not make yourself the kind of problem I don’t need. I’m the worst enemy you could have. Worse than Rados and his thugs, so do the smart thing and take the offer to be my ally – because I’m the only ally you’re going to get.’

  Again, she was silent, but her eyes said everything that words could and better too: anger, fear, hate, helplessness but also understanding and acceptance.

  He said, ‘Keep the gun hidden and don’t do anything stupid, then tonight Rados will be dead and you can have your life back. All you have to do is wait. Can you do that?’

  She nodded.

  When he removed his hand he saw there were livid red marks on her throat – four fingers and his thumb, visible and obvious to the point of the creases and lines of his skin showing. He realised she hadn’t responded because she hadn’t been able.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hold you that hard.’

  ‘Yes you did,’ she said, her voice quiet but her tone pure rage. ‘And you can’t threaten me. What are you threatening me with? What are you going to do, hurt me? Kill me? I told you before: if I stay here I’m dead anyway. Are you going to hurt me worse than these scum?’

  ‘And I told you before: you’re a survivor. You’re not going to give up, so don’t try to pretend you have nothing to lose. While you’re alive, there is always a chance. That’s how you escaped before. That’s why you’re risking everything to help me. You have the same survival instinct I have. While you’re breathing you’ll keep fighting.’

  ‘Okay,’ she admitted, ‘I don’t want to die. Especially not here. Not like this. But you’re bluffing too. You can’t do anything to me. If you do, you’ll also kill any of the trust you’ve gained with Rados. Even if he places no value on my life he isn’t going to trust someone so reckless. We’re in central Belgrade. There are clients in the building and people on the street outside. He doesn’t want gunshots. He doesn’t want a dead body to deal with in one of his businesses.’

  She was right, of course, but he kept that from his expression even if to deny it would be futile. ‘Supposing you’re right, you’re forgetting the single most important fact here.’

  She was not hesitant because she knew she had gained the upper hand. ‘And what would that be?’

  He pointed. ‘That’s the door.’

  ‘It is,’ she said.

  ‘And I can walk through it any time I like and never come back.’

  Her lips stayed closed.

  He said, ‘This is a job to me, nothing more. If I don’t kill Rados I don’t get paid. It’s worth a lot of money to me, but that’s all. I’ll simply wait for the next contract to come my way. I’ll go skiing. I’ll read.’

  She looked away.

  ‘Am I making myself clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Don’t worry about that.’

  ‘I never worry.’

  ‘I understand exactly what you’re telling me. I don’t have any choice but to do as you want. I’m a prisoner here, but I’m your prisoner too.’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

  She stepped towards him. ‘I hope you feel good about that. I hope that makes you feel powerful. Do you?’

  Victor didn’t answer.

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  Victor was early, because it was always his preference to arrive before he was expected. It was simple protocol. He was early because he liked to see trouble coming instead of walking into it. He was expecting trouble, because the British SIS officer needed to see him. It could only be more bad news.

  She hadn’t arrived. He was glad. He didn’t like people being earlier than him. He didn’t like people thinking the way he thought.

  But she had sent someone ahead.

  The watcher looked and acted like almost every other man in the bar. He wore the same kind of stylish business suit, jacket off. The tie was loose and the top button of the shirt undone in the same kind of expression of freedom and release. He leaned against the bar with one elbow as if fatigued after a long day. He was perspiring and his hair was unruly from constantly pushing it back with his fingers. He sipped from a tall glass of premium beer. His glass was three-quarters full. Alcohol and work rarely mixed well, but it enhanced his cover in the way a full glass or a non-alcoholic beverage could not. The attire, behaviour and beer marked him out as a pro. He blended in perfectly in his surroundings. Had Victor not been expecting trouble he might have missed him.

  The watcher was working alone but he was not alone. He was chatting and flirting with a redhead in a pinstripe trouser suit. It was a risky move. The interaction could not help but draw attention and the energy and effort it required to maintain meant less could be used to watch. But he was pulling it off with ease. He had the redhead positioned in such a way that he could look at her and see Victor in his peripheral vision.

  His shirt gave him away. He had his jacket hanging off the back of a tall chair because it was hot in the bar but it was cold outside. The creases in the shirt gave him away – specifically their absence. He had the right clothes, the right attitude, the right actions, but his shirt did not show the wrinkles that a day in the office would acquire. It was too fresh and well pressed – either because he had not been wearing it long or because he had spent most of the day as foot surveillance, not slumped in a chair or hunched over a desk.

  Excellent, but not perfect.

  He was not surprised that SIS had sent backup. Monique might be convinced of Victor’s innocence in Banik’s assassination, but the jury would still be out so far as her bosses were concerned. Either she would be told to send the watcher, else someone higher up had made that decision without her consent. Victor didn’t like being watched, but for the time being it was an irritant rather than an interference so he was prepared to ignore it.

  When Monique arrived she found him in a quiet corner. No one was seated within earshot.

  There was no sign of the other one – Dennis. Maybe they had discussed it beforehand and decided it was best if he didn’t come too. Maybe that had been Monique’s idea. I think it would be best if I dealt with him alone… Don’t worry, I’ll take a pavement artist for backup.

  Monique was in civilian attire: jeans and a sweater. Ankle boots made her even taller. She looked a lot fresher than the last time he had seen her at the airport. Her skin was so smooth it looked polished under the bar’s spotlights.

  ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ she said. ‘I know it’s short notice.’

  ‘There’s no need to thank me. There is no need for any pleasantries. Let’s get on with it. I’m pushed for time and it’s a risk meeting you at all.’

  She didn’t react to his belligerent words or blunt tone. She gestured. ‘Have a seat, please.’

  Victor said, ‘Why am I here?’ as he adjusted a stool to give him the best viewing angle, and sat down.

  ‘I’m watching your back,’ Monique insisted. ‘And I’m doing a great job of it.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t hurt your shoulder when you gave yourself a pat on the back.’

  ‘I was a gymnast,’ she said, ‘but I have good reason for my grandiose statements, I assure you.’

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  Monique said, ‘It turns out that Fletcher and Banik had a nice sideline going, using company assets for personal business. Also turns out they both used the same professional killer for most of these jobs.’

  ‘He wouldn’t be German by any chance?’

  ‘Yes, and his name is Krieger. Banik used you to get rid of Fletcher, but Fletcher had by that time hired Krieger to take out Banik.’

  So Krieger had prioritised Victor as the bigger payday, he realised, only going after Banik after the unsuccessful attempt on the train to St Petersburg.


  He said, ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because you have a problem,’ she said, ‘a serious one, but I managed to see it coming. One of Krieger’s aliases showed up in Belgrade yesterday.’

  ‘Great,’ Victor said. ‘He knows about my current contract then.’

  ‘I’m afraid it appears that way.’

  ‘You said Banik was killed on his driveway, not interrogated. How could he have passed on my whereabouts to Krieger?’

  ‘He didn’t,’ Monique explained. ‘Fletcher did. Banik was telling you the truth after all. He may have sent you after Fletcher for his own benefit, but otherwise he was playing straight with you.’

  I also see you as a friend, Banik had said to Victor.

  She said, ‘Thankfully there’s a simple solution to this mess.’ She paused. ‘You can leave Belgrade and never come back. Krieger knows where you are, not where you are going to be.’

  ‘What about the contract? What about Rados?’

  ‘Forget Rados. Forget the job. It’s over. In light of this Krieger situation, London has pulled the plug. They’ve already lost two case officers to infighting and they don’t want any more blood spilled, even if it’s a freelancer’s.’

  He sat in silence.

  ‘You can stand down with immediate effect,’ she continued. ‘Get the next flight out. I can provide security if you want it, or we’ll happily let you fly alone.’

  He thought of the watcher at the bar. There for his protection, as well as Monique’s.

  ‘London appreciates its case of cold feet has put you out and apologises profusely, ditto for Fletcher’s actions putting your life at risk. In recompense, you are to be paid in full for the Rados contract, so you won’t be out of pocket due to events beyond your control. They hope if you are aggrieved by all this the payment will satisfy you.’

  He read her tone and imagined her pleading with her superiors to make sure he was paid because she remembered what he had said in the back of the Lada.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘You haven’t said anything in a long time.’

  He nodded, thinking how close he had come to killing Rados in the forest and how everything he had done so far had been for nothing.