by Tom Wood
He did so, maintaining the façade of friendliness while in his mind he rehearsed what he would do if the two security guards came rushing in. He felt Rados’ watchful gaze, so said in distraction, ‘I have a question to ask, if I may.’
‘Sure.’
‘Why did you hire me? The real reason, I mean. It wasn’t because you needed additional manpower because of – what did you call it? – corporate restructuring. You had more than enough men for that deal with the Slovakians.’
‘You don’t miss a thing, do you? And you’re right, of course. I didn’t need a new recruit for that. But that served as a useful excuse to bring in an outsider. I didn’t want my men questioning the decision, because what I really wanted was an outsider to do the kind of job I couldn’t ask one of my own to do.’
‘Which is?’
‘Killing Zoca. He’s always been a liability, and he had finally managed to hang himself on the rope of my patience, even before he betrayed me to those Slovakians.’ He paused, ‘I can see you had already worked that out for yourself.’
‘I had no proof.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Rados said. ‘It’s not your job to keep my men in check. Zoca is a relic from another era. This business, like any other, must change with the times, and Zoca will never change. The ability to adapt is perhaps the most important any of us can possess. You, Mr Chameleon, know that better than most.’
‘You said “at first”.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, at first. At first because I would have had you killed afterwards. But that was then. That was before you proved to me I wasn’t mistaken. I wasn’t wrong when we first met and I saw something in you I’ve never seen in another.’
‘Which is?’
‘Myself.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Victor said.
Rados said, ‘It’s the highest compliment I can pay.’
‘What did you say about arrogance?’
Rados nodded and said, ‘Touché,’ before adding, ‘so, I would be grateful if you could get rid of Zoca at your earliest convenience.’
‘I killed him earlier,’ Victor admitted. ‘At the scrap yard, along with some of his men. I would say it was self-defence, but I didn’t like him anyway.’
Rados’ eyes widened, not believing Victor initially, but then he laughed when he saw it was no joke. ‘That’s hysterical. And it goes to show how right I was to hire you. You have earned your place here tenfold. I’m sorry, I didn’t offer you a drink. Would you join me?’
‘Of course.’
Rados stood to pour a couple of brandies. It took him a minute, with the use of only one hand, but Victor didn’t offer assistance – Rados didn’t want any. He handed Victor a glass.
‘What shall we drink to?’
Rados said, ‘To shadows.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Rados smelled the brandy. ‘A writer once said that you should face the sun so the shadows fall behind you. I disagree. Have the sun to your back. Face the shadows head on, so they can see you coming. Give them fair warning that you are not afraid, that you are the darkness blocking the light. Then watch them run away from you.’
They clinked glasses.
‘To shadows,’ Victor said.
They sipped in unison.
Rados was in close proximity, yet the ever-present Varangians were absent, and the only security guards were out of sight because Rados now trusted him. This was what Victor had been working towards. He was alone with him, at last. He could kill the man at his leisure – a choke or neck break – and stroll out of the building unopposed. Rados only had the use of one arm. It would be simple. Even easy.
Except Victor wasn’t going to kill him.
SIXTY-EIGHT
There were two reasons, each as important as the other. The first was a practical consideration. Victor had made a deal with the Armenian woman and he was going to stick to it. He didn’t yet know where she was in the building – or even if she was in the building – and finding her and improvising a means of escape while Rados’ corpse lay waiting to be discovered was no plan.
The second was because, even if Victor knew where to find her, London had called off the contract. Rados was no longer a target. He was just a man, albeit as abhorrent an individual as Victor had ever encountered, but Victor was well aware he had no moral authority to judge anyone.
He killed who he was paid to and who he had to, and because Rados was neither of those he would live through this conversation.
‘You’re looking at me differently,’ Rados said.
‘You’re looking at me differently too.’
‘Something’s changed between us and I’d like to know what it is.’
‘Maybe we didn’t really know each other before, and now we do.’
Rados thought about this. ‘It could be that.’
‘Or,’ Victor said, ‘maybe it’s because we’ve made up our minds not to kill the other.’
Rados chuckled. ‘Now that sounds far more likely. And as we have finally passed that momentous barrier we can be true friends and not simply friendly.’
‘I’ve never had any true friends,’ Victor said.
‘Never?’
‘Maybe one or two I thought of as such, but can you be friends with someone who doesn’t really know you?’
Rados shook his head. ‘That’s exactly why we can be friends. And as a token of my friendship you may have first choice of any of the women. To keep, if you like.’
‘To keep?’
Rados smiled. ‘Yes, to keep, because not only are you my friend but you saved my life in those woods. Do you think I don’t appreciate that? Do you think I don’t reward such service?’
‘That’s not what I meant. What do you mean by saying I can keep one of the women?’
Rados said, ‘I mean if there is a girl you like, you can have her all to yourself. You can have her for your exclusive use. You may sell her. You can take her away to live with you. Or even introduce her to your mother, if you wish.’ He smiled.
Victor smiled too, thinking he didn’t even need the smuggled gun; he didn’t even need to avoid the two security guards. There was no need for any violence. He could walk out the front door with her, not just unopposed but encouraged.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ was all he could say.
‘Words are meaningless,’ Rados said. ‘We both know that. Remember, it’s what we do, not what we say, that defines us. Pick any girl here. She’s yours.’
‘That’s incredibly kind,’ Victor said. ‘Thank you.’
Rados shook his head. ‘I don’t want your thanks. This is my gift to you. This is my thanks to you. This is who I am.’
Victor nodded his understanding. He said, ‘The women here are all very beautiful, but maybe I wasn’t clear before. I’m the kind of man who likes familiarity. I hope that doesn’t offend you.’
Rados took an apple from the fruit bowl and opened his pocketknife to peel it. He could hold the apple in his left hand, but it pained him. There was something in his expression Victor couldn’t read.
Rados said, ‘I believe you’re talking about the Armenian woman, Eva.’
Eva.
‘Yes…’ Victor said. ‘That’s who I mean.’
Rados continued to peel the apple with small, awkward movements: ‘Unfortunately, she couldn’t be with us tonight. But, familiarity or not, I’m sure one of these heavenly creatures will help with that need of yours.’
‘What do you mean she – Eva – can’t be with us tonight?’
‘I know you requested her, but I’m afraid I have to let you down. I did try to have her here, of course, as per your wishes, and I did my best.’ He paused, sighing. ‘Look, we should have known she couldn’t be relied on after leaving us before. But I didn’t realise how unpredictable she could be.’
‘What are you telling me?’
Rados said, ‘My friend Mr Dilas has a heavy hand with women, even if he does not look the sort, and she re
acted badly. There was an altercation.’
‘Where is she now?’
Rados sighed. He placed the pocketknife and the apple down next to the decanter. ‘What does it matter? She would not have been a good match for you even if she had behaved impeccably. Her bloom had faded. A shame, but it happens eventually. You can become familiar with another.’
‘Where is she?’ Victor said again, unable to control the tone of his voice.
Rados made a floating gesture with his hand. ‘She has left us to pursue environmental concerns.’
‘Where?’
‘She is helping the forests stay so very green.’
Victor was as still as he had ever been.
‘You can only tolerate so much bad behaviour,’ Rados explained, ‘before that bad behaviour is a reflection on yourself, and your tolerance becomes weakness. Which is in itself intolerable. I am no Marcus Aurelius, after all.’
Rados stood and opened a drawer of a cabinet that stood near to the fireplace. ‘It’s a funny thing. She had a gun on her.’ He removed Victor’s Five-seveN from the drawer. ‘Quite the weapon, isn’t it? Empty, thankfully. She waved it around before she was overpowered. She even tried to make out that you had given it to her. Had you not risked your own life to protect mine in the forest, I might have believed her, but people will say anything to save themselves, won’t they? I’m sure you know that more than most. I can only assume she stole it from one of the clients. I’ve been trying to think who would have been so armed. It’s something of a curiosity, no?’
He set the gun down next to the decanter of brandy.
Victor’s gaze remained on the weapon. An image flashed in his mind of Eva pointing the gun in desperation, knowing it was empty, hoping the threat would be enough, but knowing it couldn’t save her.
Rados regarded him. ‘I’m sorry you’ve taken it badly. I didn’t realise you were quite so fond of her. You’ll forget her soon enough. Let’s face it, she was nothing to you but someone to use.’
I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.
Rados said, ‘You look like you could use another drink.’
He took Victor’s glass to pour him another, struggling as before.
Victor joined him at the decanter. ‘We are the same, aren’t we?’
Rados wasn’t sure of his tone, but he nodded anyway. He placed his good hand on Victor’s shoulder. ‘That’s why we get on so well.’
Victor nodded too, then grabbed Rados’ pocketknife from the silver tray and stabbed him in the abdomen, driving the blade deep until only Victor’s own hand prevented it thrusting any further.
The blade was short but razor sharp. It perforated the small intestine, and severed the abdominal aorta beyond. Victor twisted as he ripped the weapon free.
Rados sank to his knees, gasping; shock paralysing him as much as pain; grabbing at Victor’s jacket with the single hand he could use in a vain effort to stay standing. Victor lowered himself too, until Rados’ grip failed and he collapsed on to his back. In seconds his white shirt and tie were soaked red. A keening exhale escaped from his lips.
Victor knelt beside him. ‘I didn’t stab you in the heart, because I want you to know you’re going to die. I want you to feel yourself dying.’
Rados’ head lolled backwards. His skin was now as white as his shirt and tie had been. His eyes closed.
‘No,’ Victor said. ‘Don’t die yet. Open your eyes. Look at me. Look at me.’
Rados did, eyelids fluttering as death neared, but he was still conscious, still aware.
‘Good,’ Victor said. ‘Now my face is the last thing you’ll see in this world.’
Rados’ eyes closed for the final time and Victor stood and backed away from the growing pool of blood. He took the Five-seveN from where Rados had left it, loaded the magazine torn free from one wrist, and screwed on the suppressor from the other.
He found Dilas outside, alone, enjoying a cigarette on the terrace while he gazed at the moonlit mountains in the distance. Dilas heard his footsteps on the paving stones and turned, smiling at first because he was enjoying the party and he welcomed the company, but then frowning because he saw Victor’s expression as he emerged through the shadows.
Dilas said, ‘Why do you look so serious?’
Victor shot him five times in the chest.
SIXTY-NINE
The bar was noisy with music and people trying to talk over it. It had a soft glow, flattering and atmospheric, but only because some of the light fixtures were not working. No one seemed to mind. The patrons were almost all men, hanging out in small groups or standing alone. The women were all accompanied. The only females not in couples were the barmaids, of which there were two. Both looked as though they had been on their feet far too long for far too little pay. Their faces brightened when there was a customer to serve, but Victor could see through their smiles even if those they served could not.
Today, the sun was shining and London had a rare air of winter brightness. Pedestrians walked slower and motorists didn’t use their horns with the same frequency. People were friendlier too. There were fewer frowns and more smiles.
The establishment was somewhere between a bar and a pub. There was no technical difference that Victor knew of or cared to know, but his rule was to never order lunch in a bar nor ask for a cocktail in a pub. Anything more specific could be left for the purists to argue.
He was a regular drinker to keep his tolerance high. He needed to be able to handle alcohol in his line of work. A lone man drinking lemonade after lemonade in a bar attracted attention; one that sipped beer was part of the scenery.
He took his time moving from the entrance to the bar itself, giving himself plenty of opportunity to scan the scene and its occupants before he arrived. Lots of bars had mirrors behind them. Victor was never sure why sellers of alcohol believed the recipients wanted to see themselves inebriated. This establishment didn’t have one. Maybe that made it a pub.
‘Thank you for meeting me,’ Monique said.
She was sitting in a loud corner, under a wall-mounted speaker so the music would ensure no one could overhear their conversation.
She said, ‘I appreciate why you were hesitant after all we’ve put you through.’
He took a seat at a right angle from her so his back wasn’t to the rest of the room. This time there were no watchers for either her protection or his own. She wore a well-cut business suit and thin-framed glasses. Together, they seemed another pair of corporate colleagues escaping the office.
She continued: ‘When you didn’t contact me that evening in Belgrade I thought you were dead, else had disappeared. I spent the whole night on standby with an extraction team waiting to hear from you.’
‘That’s why I’m granting you this courtesy.’
He managed to stop himself stating he always paid his debts.
‘I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you to learn that Rados was murdered that night at one of his houses. Apparently there were several influential Serbs at his house at the time, but surprise surprise no one knows anything at all and the investigators are under enormous political pressure to bury the case as a burglary gone wrong. Which means said influential people won’t have to answer difficult questions about what they were doing there. Which also means that no one is looking for an assassin in the pay of the British government.’
Victor said, ‘What do you want?’
‘London wants to thank you for a job well done. You may have disobeyed the directive to stand down for your own safety, but no one is complaining, not when you managed to complete the contract. In fact, given that the blame for Rados’ death has been nicely diverted, your stock has risen even higher within our hallowed halls. We’ve been missing a man who can get things done.’
‘Your thanks is unnecessary, but that’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?’
She nodded. ‘There are two other reasons why I wanted to speak to you. The first is because London would like to retain your
services on a more permanent basis. While we appreciate you have been put at risk by your association with Banik, we will continue to make every effort to watch out for you and provide intelligence on your enemies as well as a significant increase in your payment. If you accept, there is another job you would be perfect for. This time we know exactly where the target is. The groundwork has all been done. You simply have to, uh, execute. Can I tell them you’ll consider it?’
He thought of his conversation with Leonard Fletcher on the train to St Petersburg.
‘The answer is no.’
She didn’t react. ‘I told them you would say that, even if I hoped it could be different. I think we could be very useful to each other.’
Victor remained silent.
Monique said, ‘London doesn’t care why you went against orders, but I’d really like to know. Especially as several of Rados’ men, including his chief lieutenant, were also murdered that same day. Along with an unidentified male of German descent. Obviously, I can guess why you had reason to kill the latter, but that doesn’t explain why you went after Rados when you didn’t need to, nor why you requested an extraction team.’
He glanced towards the door. ‘I hope you have an umbrella in your bag. I think the weather is about to turn.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You’re reluctant to reveal your motives – I would be too if I were you – but I’m sure you understand, I had to ask anyway.’
‘You said two reasons.’
She said, ‘We can call the second a parting gift. One that I hope will convince you to give me a call some day.’
‘Doubtful, but knock yourself out.’
‘I’m sure you can work it out from what I’ve said. Well, from what I’ve not said.’
He thought for a moment, then understood.
She explained.
When she had finished, he said, ‘Thank you.’
It was rare he said those two words together, and rarer still with any degree of honesty.
Monique could tell. ‘You can thank me by not forgetting who your friends are.’
She held out her card.
