Kill a Spy

by Samantha Lee Howe

  ‘I’ve just arrived,’ I say.

  I’m wearing my crime-scene suit but not a facemask as I was talking to the victim’s husband in the kitchen. Ian Clementine is in such a state that we’ve sent for a family friend who plans to take him into their home while we do what needs to be done. It’s no surprise he’s in shock. Who wouldn’t be when they come home and find their wife murdered?

  ‘Have you seen the body yet?’ Elliot asks.

  ‘No one but homicide and the cop that responded to Clementine’s hysterical 999 call has seen her. I was waiting for you,’ I say.

  Beth comes into the house suited up.

  ‘Hi,’ she says. ‘I’m glad you’re here Mike. I thought they’d want to keep you safe and locked away still, though.’

  ‘They tried,’ I say. ‘I saw the Newmarket report. I wish I’d been at the scene too, but your account was great Beth.’

  ‘Shall we go and have a look?’ Elliot says.

  I nod, and then put my surgical mask in place.

  We climb the stairs and go into Ian and Cassandra’s bedroom.

  The first thing that greets me is colour. There is a red arc of blood splashed up above the headboard, and the bed is soaked. Cassandra’s face has been mutilated on one side. Perhaps by accident, but it looks purposeful.

  ‘Jesus,’ says Beth beside me.

  Her eyes are open. And as I advance, going around the free-standing mirror that’s been posed at the bottom of the bed, it looks to me as though Cassandra is staring at herself in the glass from her position in the bed.

  ‘Our perp has upped their game. This is something very different from the last one,’ Elliot says.

  ‘Is it though?’ I say. ‘This is a… display. All of the deaths have been that to a certain degree. Though the first two were less focused than this one and so it wasn’t as obvious. Sinead was drugged, placed in the bath, and then her wrists were cut. The water was tainted by her blood. Lizzie was staked out in her shed. Her femoral artery cut. I had noticed the blood spatter in the shed, as though the perp had pulled back their arm and sent the blood from the knife raining down onto the wooden wall. Then there was Nicole. In the shower cubicle – several knife wounds. I saw that as frantic – and, yes it was – just like this attack. But that was the point of Nicole’s murder. It was a bit like a scene from Psycho.’

  ‘Did you see the pictures of Hilary?’ Elliot asks.

  ‘Yes. The kill was frenzied. As though the perp was really angry and couldn’t help themselves. Then they tried to make it look like something else. Clawing back some of the urgency of the kill,’ I say.

  ‘What did it look like to you?’ Beth asks.

  ‘A tableau. Or an attempt at one. A mish-mash of horror movies and true crime. Jack the Ripper meets Suspiria,’ I say.

  ‘Suspiria?’ Elliot asks.

  ‘Mid-seventies Dario Argento film. Slash horror. There’s a scene where a victim tries to escape the killer by crawling through a room of razor wire. Not a pretty sight,’ I explain. ‘This one doesn’t quite add up though. It looks like…’

  ‘American Beauty,’ Beth says.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Only the girl wasn’t killed in that. She was shown lying naked in a bed of petals as the sexual fantasy of the main male character. This isn’t sexual though. At least I don’t think it is,’ I say.

  ‘She’s got the same hair colouring as the others, Mike,’ Beth says. ‘So, your theory that this is some kind of revenge kill is looking right to me.’

  ‘It’s a practice,’ I say.

  ‘Practice?’ Elliot says. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘The killer is gearing up to something bigger. This one took a lot of planning. They’d been watching this woman for a while. They knew when the husband wouldn’t be home to interrupt,’ I explain. ‘The only thing I don’t understand is how they found Cassandra in the first place. Surely she isn’t on any dating site, as she’s a newlywed.’

  Beth starts to look a bit queasy and so I ask her if she’d go and sit with Ian Clementine in the kitchen until the friend arrives. She squeezes her eyes shut above her mask and nods her head, hurrying away to take her mind off this awful sight.

  Elliot and I set to work.

  ‘She was a very beautiful girl,’ Elliot observes. ‘Before that bastard sliced her face.’

  I look at him and notice how clenched his fists are by his side. He’s as appalled by this as I am.

  ‘It’s a horrible attack,’ I say. ‘And forcing her to watch… to see herself so damaged like that…’

  ‘Sick,’ says Elliot.

  ‘Very.’

  I take pictures as Elliot starts his onsite examination, talking all the while into a recorder to capture every single observation he makes.

  ‘The cause of death was probably the severing of the carotid artery. But she was already weakened and dying by then as the assailant had stabbed her over twenty times.’

  I take pictures of all of the knife wounds but don’t comment as Elliot completes his report.

  ‘Elliot?’ says a woman at the door and I recognize her as the pathologist he left in charge at Lizzie Seacroft’s house.

  ‘Pam. Come in. You know Michael Kensington?’

  ‘We didn’t officially meet, but yes,’ says Pam.

  ‘Pam’s working with me while we have all of these extra investigations. She’s on loan from MI6,’ Elliot says. ‘You can bring your team in now, because Mike and I are done here. Bag and tag her and then see if you can find any trace of evidence left by our perp. I want fibres that don’t belong here, I want fingerprints. You know the drill.’

  Pam nods.

  Maybe keep your mind on the job, this time, I nearly say but moderate myself before I do.

  ‘We need to make sure all evidence is kept clean,’ I say instead.

  Pam nods. Her eyes skitter to Elliot but I don’t say anything else. I hope she’s learned her lesson not to be distracted during working hours.

  I follow Elliot downstairs but my mind is on Cassandra and her similarity to Neva.

  ‘This is horrifying,’ I mutter.

  ‘Yes,’ says Elliot overhearing me even as he reaches the hallway and I’m only halfway down the stairs.

  ‘It’s only going to get worse,’ I say. ‘Until our perp finds the woman they are really looking for.’

  Elliot meets my gaze as though he understands who I’m talking about, though he can’t know I mean Neva.

  ‘Well,’ he says. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t find her. Have you any idea who it might be?’

  ‘A few ideas,’ I say. ‘But it’s all a bit need to know at this stage.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ says Elliot.

  As Elliot walks away, I replay his words. He’d said she. As though he already knows more than he should. This knowledge makes me feel uncomfortable until I realize Beth and Elliot must have been discussing the case, and the few bits of evidence we’ve kept out of the press.

  A few days ago, Beth had broached the subject about the dead women, and their similarity to Neva’s photofit. We hadn’t discussed it before then, but she’d seen it as soon as I had.

  ‘You’re right. All the women do resemble Neva. Not perfect, but close enough,’ I’d admitted.

  ‘Which means that the killer is looking for her just as we are,’ Beth said.

  I’d nodded. ‘We need to do something. Find her before they do.’

  ‘I have some sources on the dark web,’ Beth had said. ‘I wouldn’t usually use them in a Network linked search for information as it’s too dangerous for all concerned, but I’ll put some subtle feelers out.’

  True to her word, Beth had set some searches in motion and her sources came back with some good intel. There had been some more sightings reported of a woman who sounded like Neva. Also, the British Embassy in Amsterdam reported the stolen passport of a student on holiday there.

  ‘The passport was used and I’ve seen airport footage of the thief using it to enter the country,’ Beth had t
old me. ‘It could be Neva.’

  All of this pointed to Neva having returned to the UK. Even though we knew we needed to report this to Ray, Beth suggested we continued our own searches for now. I hadn’t been sure if she was testing me to see if I was happy to cover up for Neva, but in the end, I let her persuade me to keep it between us until our spy was found. It made sense to keep what we knew close to our chests just in case the wrong person got access to the information.

  All of this brings me back to Elliot’s apparent knowledge. Yes, Beth and I suspected a woman was the killer because in the first two cases there’d been one, mysterious enough to leave no trace of themselves, but who we believed had met up with Sinead and Lizzie. But we’d agreed not to share this information with anyone. Beth shouldn’t have told Elliot, if indeed she had. I plan to ask her, just to clarify if Elliot was, in her eyes, safe to be in the know. But of course her relationship with him may well be clouding her judgement.

  While Beth had been briefed by Ray about the bugs in the office, I’d gone with my security detail to the gym where Nicole had been found and interviewed the entire spin class. There was mention again of a woman. Mousy haired, and not particularly memorable. But it had confirmed the profile that was shaping up around our killer. A profile that I’d so far only shared with Beth.

  As I remove my crime-scene suit and dispose of it in a black bin bag, I find myself wondering more about Elliot. He and Beth have grown very close. I couldn’t really blame her for talking shop with him, since he was so important within the department. After all, we relied on his autopsy information and nothing he’d given us so far suggested that he couldn’t be trusted. Even so, I was determined to find out just what they had discussed. If Beth felt him safe then maybe we could use his help in learning more about the killer and their association with Neva. No resource was unusable.

  My mind is taken away from Elliot as I leave the house. The lead detective assigned to the case on paper is making a brief statement. I make sure to avoid being caught on camera by the ever-present news crews. No matter how hard we try to keep the details out of the press, someone always leaks something. It’s unfortunate that this serial killer case has caught their attention, because it makes it harder for us to do our job.

  ‘Oh my god!’

  I turn to see a man running from the house next door. He’s in his early fifties, with greying hair and he’s hysterical.

  ‘It’s my mother! Help! Someone!’

  A young PC ducks under the cordon and hurries towards him. Wondering what’s happening, I follow and join the cop outside the house next door.

  ‘My mother’s dead,’ says the man.

  And that’s when I learn, with a firm slash across the throat, our killer silenced their only witness.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Janine

  One year ago

  Janine didn’t see Neva again for a couple of years. By then she’d decided she never would. She worked the dark web, taking hits, honing her skills alone and she grew in confidence. Her stash of money was slowly building. She hid in plain sight as Neva had taught her. But there wasn’t a day when she didn’t think about her mentor and wonder where she was and what she was doing. She’d been tempted a few times to go back to Neva’s house. But she remembered Neva’s reaction to her spying and didn’t want to repeat the mistake she’d made. She was sure it was why Neva had severed contact. And Neva’s burner phone was no longer in play.

  Neva’s absence in her life hurt Janine more than she ever thought it could do. She’d thrown herself into her work, it was a diversion and it paid well, after all. As her life settled down into a pattern of death juxtaposed with normality, Janine began to wonder more and more what it would be like to have a relationship with someone. She wanted to know what it would be like to truly walk away from killing and become a regular person.

  Not knowing how to meet people under normal circumstances, she tried a few dating sites. But after a few dates she realized that she just wasn’t attracted to anyone she met. They all seemed to expect her to jump into bed with them, and after breaking the nose of one of them who came on too strong, Janine deleted her account.

  That’s when she met Kady.

  It wasn’t a fling; it was something more. Kady was young, beautiful and flirty. In a way, Janine hadn’t stood a chance. It was as though Kady had searched her out. And Janine was ripe for the picking. Of course, she’d considered what her sexuality was. On the whole she’d thought herself frigid. The general’s aggressive pursuit of her had been enough to put her off men initially and then his death and the near-miss that had become also played a big part in how Janine felt about the opposite sex.

  Kady started working in a local coffee shop that Janine frequented. Going in once or twice a month, it was one of the few routines Janine allowed herself. As soon as Kady started there, Janine felt an impulse to go more often. The girl’s smile always dialled up when Janine came in, and it wasn’t long before Janine realized Kady was as interested in her as she was in Kady.

  ‘Do you drink anything other than coffee?’ Kady asked her one morning, when she rushed to wipe the table Janine was sitting at.

  ‘Vodka,’ said Janine.

  ‘You’re Russian, right?’ said Kady.

  Janine looked around to see if they were being overheard. No one else in the coffee shop was paying attention to them.

  ‘Yes,’ she said finally.

  ‘I like vodka too,’ said Kady. ‘I finish at six.’

  It took Janine a moment to realize that Kady was telling her this for a reason.

  ‘Don’t leave me hanging,’ said Kady. ‘Go for a drink with me?’

  Janine found herself blushing.

  ‘Jeez. Sorry. I thought you were like me. I didn’t mean to offend you,’ Kady said.

  ‘You didn’t offend me,’ Janine answered. ‘I don’t know if I’m…’

  Kady smiled again. ‘But you had a crush on a girl once?’

  Janine’s blush deepened. ‘I think so.’

  ‘We can just go for a drink,’ Kady said. ‘Just be friends?’

  Janine felt a rush of excitement at the thought of spending time with Kady. Even a simple friendship would break up the monotony and loneliness that her world revolved around. She didn’t say anything and Kady walked away looking disappointed, but at 6pm Janine was waiting for her outside the coffee shop.

  They’d gone for a drink together and it was the start of a long affair. One that Janine couldn’t walk away from too easily, but when she learnt of Kady’s betrayal with another woman, Janine had to end it.

  Being with Kady had made her vulnerable. It had stopped her working, and now Janine had to get back to the world she knew the best. But it had also taught her who she was as a woman.

  That’s when Neva came back into her life.

  Neva is standing on a corner outside a cake shop as though she’s arrived there by complete accident.

  By then Janine has her own permanent home. A small flat in Cardiff. She lives frugally, retaining as much money as she can. She even has a regular job by which she pays all of her bills.

  Janine is afraid even as she hurries to Neva’s side. Perhaps this is the moment when Neva will take back the life she’s given her.

  Neva has barely changed. Without hesitation Janine holds out her arms to hug her.

  ‘I thought I wouldn’t see you again,’ says Janine.

  Neva blinks, surprised by the show of affection. She doesn’t respond to it. That is when Janine understands that the passage of time is irrelevant to Neva. She has not been missed at all during this long hiatus. She realizes that the absence means she just wasn’t needed.

  ‘I have a job for you,’ Neva says as Janine’s arms fall back awkwardly to her sides.

  ‘I need to be you again?’ Janine asks.

  ‘No. You need to be Ingrid Rouille,’ she says.

  Janine doesn’t know what Neva is planning, but she takes the details of who and what Rouille shou
ld be. She walks away from the life she’s established, dropping the boring office job, and with money Neva provides, she buys clothes and styles her hair as instructed.

  In London she rents an apartment for Neva under Rouille’s name.

  They meet there once the rental agreement is signed. Janine watches Neva as, wearing another disguise, she examines the flat, leaving some possessions behind that Rouille’s identity will need.

  ‘You won’t be needed again for a while,’ Neva tells her.

  Then she wires Janine fifty thousand pounds for the trouble she’s gone to.

  ‘Take this. I’ll be in touch,’ Neva says, giving her a new burner phone.

  Janine takes it, thrilled to be back in. She has questions about where Neva has been. How she is, but she doesn’t ask them. Any such behaviour might make Neva cut her off. She can’t risk being out in the cold again.

  As she and Neva part again a growing excitement of rebuilding their relationship surges into Janine’s mind. It takes her thoughts away from the promiscuous Kady, and back to why she’d followed Neva from the start: she loves her. How, and in what way, Janine still isn’t certain. But for now, her confused feelings have a focus and all Janine wants is to show Neva that she can be trusted again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Neva

  Present day

  Michael’s security detail is good, but Neva picks up on them on her second night in London. They have a routine of moving SUVs around, one of which takes Michael and two more are decoys, with a fourth one following Michael’s vehicle. This is the giveaway. Even so, Neva is pleased to see so much effort being put into Michael’s protection.

  Since they’d parted, she had wondered if Ray would insist on putting him into witness protection. It’s more than likely that they tried. But she’s not surprised that Michael refused to go to ground, even though he’s still in danger. He wouldn’t want that. After all, he revels in his work.

  She follows the fourth SUV now at a distance and on a motorbike she’s procured to make it easier to go unnoticed.