Kill a Spy

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘She had her own business. She’s an interior designer. Very talented and successful by all accounts.’

  ‘Relationships past and present?’ asks Elsa.

  ‘Unknown at this point,’ I say. ‘I’m going to interview people from the spin class she usually attends on Friday. See if she was friendly with any of them.’

  ‘I’ll interview her next-door neighbours and see if they know anything?’ Beth says.

  ‘I can do that if you want?’ Elsa volunteers.

  Beth glances at her, ‘No it’s okay. I’ll take this.’

  I see a frown appear on Elsa’s forehead but she doesn’t object. Perhaps she’s feeling underused? And it’s true that we aren’t giving her much to do, but there’s a period of settling in that I’d prefer for her to have for now.

  ‘Elsa, could you set up some appointments for me? I’d do it myself but I’m going to be pretty full on today interviewing the last people who may have seen her,’ I say. ‘It would be a massive help if you could.’

  ‘Sure,’ she says, eager to please.

  ‘I’ll send over the list of members from the Friday class and their contact details. Thank you,’ I say.

  Beth catches my eye and she rolls her gaze to the office door. Then she walks away. I take the hint.

  ‘Just fetching coffee,’ I say to Elsa. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No thanks, I have water,’ Elsa says. ‘Caffeine makes me hyper.’

  I follow in Beth’s footsteps and fish out some coins to get my coffee from the machine located near Ray’s office. Beth is waiting for me when I get there.

  ‘Not getting along?’ I say, keeping my voice low.

  ‘She’s a bit… needy,’ Beth says.

  ‘She’s probably trying to make a good impression,’ I say.

  ‘It’s just… odd having her around. Even with Leon gone, we don’t really need her,’ Beth says.

  I pause before answering. I understand where Beth is coming from: there’s something very irritating about Elsa, but I can’t say it without being unprofessional. And as for Leon, the fact that we aren’t missing him says a lot about how little he did. Neither of us elaborate on that part of Beth’s comment though, as we try to remain professional.

  ‘I know how you feel,’ I say trying to be diplomatic. ‘But Ray must have his reasons for bringing her into Archive. I think he’s been working with her for a while and trusts her.’

  ‘Let’s work on this thing alone, Michael, please. We’ve been through a lot recently. I’m not sure I feel comfortable working with someone new right now, or giving them things I’d normally do.’

  ‘Beth, Elsa’s not here to replace you. Please don’t think that,’ I say.

  ‘What is she here for then? I see her report to Ray every morning. God knows what she’s telling him.’

  ‘Report, how?’ I ask.

  ‘This morning when I came in, she was already in his office. They were talking and the door was closed. But I overheard him say something about her “keeping an eye out”,’ Beth says.

  ‘You think she’s spying on us for Ray?’ I say.

  Beth shrugs. ‘Who knows. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s watched one of us. Leon was always his little spy before.’

  I take this on board wondering what else Beth knows that I don’t.

  ‘Leon spied on us?’ I say.

  Beth glances down the corridor. ‘Well, it’s a periodic thing. Sometimes, he just checks all of us out. Watches our computer movements, studies reports for signs of omissions. As though he’s searching to see if one of us has been compromised, or switched sides. Leon also used to watch us when he thought we didn’t notice. Then I’m sure he fed back his observations to Ray.’

  ‘How do you know this?’ I ask.

  ‘There were traces of his activity all over my reports. He’d try to remove it, but you know that computers are my expertise,’ Beth says.

  ‘Are you sure he was doing that for Ray?’ I ask.

  Beth looks surprised. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. But if not for Ray, then who?’

  I shake my head. Then I get a coffee out of the machine.

  ‘Let’s talk again when we can,’ I say.

  This exchange has left me a lot to think about. Was Leon the mole that Neva mentioned? Or was that one of her lies? I find it difficult to imagine, given Leon’s penchant for doing everything by the book, where Beth and I would often bend the rules. But maybe Beth is right and he was just watching us for Ray. After all, Ray turned a blind eye to most things if we got results, but perhaps he was concerned we’d overstep too much.

  Beth follows me back to the office and we find Elsa studying the investigation board.

  ‘I know it’s been noted, but they do all look alike,’ Elsa says.

  ‘Yeah. The perp has a thing for that colour hair and blue eyes,’ I say.

  ‘What does that tell you about him?’ Elsa asks.

  ‘There’s always a link between victims and how they are chosen,’ Beth says. ‘Sometimes it’s location, or opportunity that defines why they are picked, but often there’s a physical reason.’

  ‘Is that right?’ Elsa asks me and Beth bristles beside me because she hasn’t been believed.

  ‘Yes it is. Often there’s a reason behind the physical type. Maybe the victims look like someone the killer knows or knew. Perhaps they are like the first person they killed or wanted to kill. That person could be a relative or friend. They act out the death over and over again – reliving how it felt, or they are exacting a revenge that they are unable to carry out on the original.’

  ‘What about this one?’ Beth asks.

  I study the pictures again. ‘The fury inside the killer is growing. It’s getting more frantic. Which tells me there’s a history that they are focused on. If these women are lookalikes, then our perp has a deep hatred for the original. Note Sinead. It was calmer. As though our perp thought they could relieve their frustration by taking this innocent girl’s life. What it served to do, though, was release something in them. It freed up their inhibition but didn’t ultimately satisfy the need it was trying to fulfil.’

  ‘It showed skill, but you think this is the perp’s first kill?’ Beth says.

  ‘There’s no doubt this person knew what they were doing. The deaths were too well delivered. Sinead might not be their first kill, but it was probably the first one that meant something to the killer,’ I explain.

  ‘And now you think the killer is losing it?’ Elsa says.

  ‘How much do you know about the Network?’ I ask.

  ‘I know we are looking for links between them and the deaths we investigate – especially the cold cases,’ Elsa says.

  ‘We know that several assassins broke free of their handlers when we levelled our initial attack on them,’ Beth says. ‘The killer could be one of them. Breaking down. Losing their conditioning and therefore their focus.’

  Elsa glances at me. ‘Do you think that too?’

  I don’t answer. Instead I look past her to the board and the faces of the victims, all smiling and alive in photos taken long before they were singled out and killed. Do I agree with Beth? It’s certainly a theory we’ve discussed. But there’s a nagging doubt, a question that keeps floating around inside my head that I can’t shake off. Is the resemblance of these victims to Neva merely a coincidence, or is there someone out there looking for her? And in lieu of finding her, are they wreaking their terrible revenge on innocent women?

  This is a theory I keep to myself – for now. Though, knowing Beth as I do, I think she already suspects what I’m thinking.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Janine

  Four years ago

  Janine kicks out as Neva falls forward into a roll and then leaps to her feet. The kick misses its mark, much to the annoyance of Neva’s protégé, and so Janine tries another tactic. She throws herself forward making a direct attack. Neva anticipates the move and once again ducks away, shy of the blow. They continue to fight, Neva
always blocking or avoiding until she delivers a hard push to Janine’s chest. Janine falls back, hitting the judo mat.

  Neva holds out her hand and Janine takes it, knowing the sparring is at an end for the day. Janine is frustrated though. Neva always bests her and she can’t imagine how she will ever have the same skill that her mentor patiently tries to give her.

  They are in Janine’s apartment, paid for by the retainer that Neva gives her. The sitting room is large, and, with the furniture pushed back into the corners, makes for a perfect sparring location.

  ‘How do you always know my moves?’ Janine asks.

  ‘You move a fraction of a second too soon each time. It gives you away,’ Neva says.

  ‘I’m never going to match you,’ Janine says.

  ‘You’re already better than most,’ Neva says. ‘But you’re still too emotional. You have to quell the adrenaline. It makes you jumpy.’

  Neva tells Janine how she might learn to still her emotions. ‘It is a natural surge that was designed by nature to encourage flight when threatened, but to be an effective assassin you have to learn to control these impulses and use them to your advantage. When you master this, you’ll be fully in control.’

  She prompts Janine on breathing exercises and meditation. All of which she’s studied with her over and over again. But Neva never loses her patience or reprimands her for not remembering, she merely reminds her about it again: she is as perfect as a mentor as she is as an assassin.

  Janine has been training with her now for almost two years. She is physically strong, and an exceptional fighter. She has excellent sniper skills and Janine sometimes works a hit of this sort for Neva, freeing her up to do what she wants instead. Not that Janine ever knows what that is. It is peculiar, and she often questions how much Neva needs her, despite the fact that she insists she does. Even so, they aren’t friends. It is an odd relationship, far from equal. Janine is aware of how much that is true. She is being groomed for some purpose that only Neva understands.

  Janine has asked on occasion, but she feels guilty afterwards and frustrated when Neva won’t explain herself. A frustration that sometimes turns to anger. She doesn’t feel used, just uninformed. And because she knows that Neva works for some very powerful and very dangerous people, Janine prefers to know what she’s letting herself in for.

  ‘I have a job for you,’ Neva says now.

  ‘Sniper?’ Janine asks.

  ‘No. Something up close and personal,’ Neva says.

  Neva lets the blade in her holster slip down into her hand, and she passes it to Janine.

  ‘I want you to pick up a man, take him back to his hotel room, and kill him,’ Neva says.

  ‘You think I’m ready?’ Janine says.

  ‘I know you are,’ Neva says.

  She holds out a brown A4-size envelope and Janine takes it. She opens the top and slides out the job file. A photograph greets her. It is the general. She hasn’t thought of him for a long time. She tries not to think about the man that put a hit on her.

  ‘You were asked to kill him?’ Janine says. Her eyes are wide as she stares at the photograph.

  ‘No. I’m employing you to.’

  ‘Why?’ she asks.

  Neva blinks. ‘Because I think you need it to consolidate your training.’

  Janine nods.

  ‘He’s in Switzerland. A hotel not far from here. He’s brought with him a young female FSB operative, who has no doubt been coerced into sleeping with him,’ Neva explains.

  ‘You’re an avenging angel,’ says Janine.

  ‘I’m death: I don’t care about revenge,’ Neva says.

  Janine observes the coldness of Neva’s answer and understands what this is all about. Janine needs to free herself from her old life in order to fully embrace her new one.

  Neva doesn’t confirm this. She rarely explains her motivations, something that Janine has learned to accept.

  Janine’s hand trembles as she pushes the paper and photograph back into the envelope.

  ‘When shall I do it?’ she asks.

  ‘The girl flies back to Moscow today. He’ll be alone tonight,’ Janine says.

  ‘What if he recognizes me?’

  Neva’s smile is cold. ‘He won’t.’

  When she arrived earlier, Neva left a holdall in the corner of the room. She goes there now and opens it. Inside she has everything she needs to create Janine’s disguise. But Janine is already different. She has her hair dyed strawberry blonde, just like Neva’s. They could be sisters, but all of this is to ensure that Janine can be her at a minute’s notice.

  ‘Shower, and change into this,’ she says.

  She holds out a little black dress. Short, sexy and not something that Janine would usually wear. She takes it and goes into the bathroom.

  When she’s dressed, Janine comes back into her sitting room. The judo mat has been moved and a chair is placed in the centre. Neva is holding a black wig, cut into a bob with a fringe. Janine sits down. Neva pulls a hair net over Janine’s hair then puts the wig over it. She secures it with hair clips. After this she makes Janine get up. She uses a tan makeup, and bright-red lipstick. She spends a lot of time around her eyes. When she’s finished, she holds up a mirror and Janine can see the sexy smoky look. Neva has created a personality that suggests availability.

  Janine doesn’t recognize herself. She doesn’t look anything like the girl she’d once been when she worked in the Kremlin. No, this is a sophisticated and confident woman. One that will appeal to men, not the women whom Janine prefers.

  ‘You know what to do,’ Neva says, fixing the wrist holster under the deliberately long sleeve of the dress.

  ‘Should I take a gun as well?’ she says.

  ‘No. There’s nowhere to hide it from him. And remember who he is. He may notice, even if we tried to.’

  Janine nods.

  She is nervous as she leaves her apartment. A rush of adrenaline curls up, stifling her as she steps into a taxi and makes her way to the hotel in question. She pushes it down as Neva has taught her, but it hides behind her calm exterior, picking at the edges like acid burning through flesh. By the time she reaches the hotel, Janine is trembling.

  She pauses outside the building pulling her equilibrium back together. She runs the mantra that Neva has taught her through her mind. I am death.

  Why am I like this? she wonders, for she has always done what Neva needed without question. And she’s never been in such a state of nerves before a kill – normally there is a dizzying excitement.

  It’s him.

  Once she identifies the source of her terror – fear of the general’s power and anxiety that she will be recognized – she begins to regain control.

  He tried to have her executed, and for that, Neva has given her an opportunity to take him out. To exact revenge – despite her declaration that she doesn’t care about it. Janine explores the feeling of seeing the general die, of spilling his blood up close. Will this free her as Neva says?

  When the rush of nerves recedes, it’s replaced with a cold excitement. Janine goes inside the building.

  The general has chosen an exclusive five-star hotel and therefore the reception is, of course, palatial. Marble tiles gleam on both floor and walls. The reception desk sparkles with polished brass fittings. There’s a traditional, yet contemporary amalgamation of styles in the furniture, with plush green leather chaise lounges positioned around the walls and equally luxurious four-seater sofas placed at intervals in the centre of the space. To the right, Janine sees the cocktail lounge and she walks across and into the space, taking a seat by the bar.

  As instructed, she buys herself a drink. She orders a strawberry daiquiri.

  The bar area glitters. Expensive spirits line the mirror-backed shelves. Janine studies the cocktail bar through the glass. Behind her sits lavish furnishing and several luscious private booth areas. The place screams intimacy and would appeal to those with money who might not wish to be observed.
>
  What business could a Russian general have here? she wonders as she casually glances around.

  It’s not long before the general arrives. It takes her a moment to recognize him because he is not in uniform.

  Seeing him again brings a surge of anger and disgust. She watches him in the reflection of the mirror behind the bar.

  There is a problem: the girl has not left and she joins him at one of the booths.

  While the general orders drinks from a cocktail waitress in a short black skirt and white blouse, Janine is taken with how young the girl he’s brought is. She can’t be more than 18. Perhaps she’s even younger.

  Janine is sickened by the way he mauls her. The young girl doesn’t appear to be enjoying it either. She wonders what he has over her to make her share his bed.

  Feeling she will not get the opportunity she wished for, Janine decides to abandon the hit. She gets up from the barstool and starts to leave.

  That’s when she sees Neva, sitting at the back of the room in another booth with a young man.

  Janine feels peculiar seeing Neva like this. She tells herself that this is not real, even as her mentor allows the man with her to run his hand over her bare thigh. Neva must have contrived the situation to watch over her. She has never thought of Neva in a sexual light before. Seeing her with this man gives Janine an emotion she hadn’t realized she had for Neva. She feels… envy. Neva is allowing the contact but has never shown her any such affection at all. No. Janine is a commodity to Neva – nothing more.

  She meets Neva’s eyes over the shoulder of the man but she can gather nothing from her expression. Then Neva whispers something in the man’s ear. He gets out of the booth and goes away. Janine approaches. She sits down with Neva.

  ‘You said the girl would be gone,’ she says.

  ‘She will be. Watch.’

  A few minutes later another man enters the bar. He walks up to the general and the girl. With a look of relief, the girl stands and scurries away with the other man.

  ‘Don’t let him be lonely,’ Neva says.

  Then she stands and leaves the booth, walking out of the bar.