He made his way to the departures board. There was a small cafe directly across from it, offering a range of deluxe Illy coffees and lots of drinks that were anything but coffee despite the caffeine. He ordered and took one of the spare seats, watching the faces go by.
The coffee came. He was too stressed to drink it. It sat on the small table beside him, untouched.
Kask found himself staring at everyone who stopped to look at the departures board, wondering: Are you the one?
He watched them struggle with their hand baggage and trying to get their liquids into those small plastic bags to clear security. It was a pointless little check really, but it was as much about pacifying the public as it was about making the air safe. They formed their lines and put their laptops and other electronics in the trays and went through the body scanners. It was too much like watching sheep. Instead, Kask turned his attention back to the row of glass doors that led back out to the real world.
He saw a long black limo glide to a stop.
He recognized the driver, Tomas – he’d met him several times at the compound. It was The Shepherd’s personal car. That made him twitchy. He waited in his seat until Tomas walked through the doors to stand beneath the departures board. His arrival was timed to the second.
He saw Kask stand.
‘Mr Kask?’ Tomas said, closing the distance between them. ‘The car is waiting. I can take your bag.’
They walked back out to the waiting limo. Tomas opened the rear door. ‘You’ll be more comfortable in the back,’ he assured Kask. He opened the boot and put the holdall inside.
Kask did as he was told. He was very much at Tomas’s mercy.
Even if it felt like he was a dead man walking.
No. He couldn’t think like that.
He’d done everything John had asked of him.
He was worthy.
He was being rewarded.
As the door slammed closed, sealing him away from the world outside, he realized just how isolated the interior was from the real world. He couldn’t see anything beyond vague shapes through the glass. There was no light. It could have been the middle of the night or the bright heart of day, both imposters were treated just the same by the glass.
Tomas clambered into the driver’s seat and a moment later they pulled away from the drop-off point.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere safe. My job is to get you out of harm’s way.’
Which sounded good, but the bottom of Lake Harku was out of harm’s way, too. It just depended who was being harmed.
‘Will John be there?’
‘I’m going to pick him up now. He is not best pleased that I am taking you to his door, but given the urgency of your situation he understands it cannot be helped.’
‘I appreciate it. Truly.’
‘We could not risk your colleagues discovering your involvement in the movement. If they were to unearth the truth about the girl you killed it would be bad for all concerned. John is nothing if not a practical man.’
‘You knew …?’
‘Of course. John would not put me at risk without apprising me of the situation. I agreed to bring you in because we are one family.’
‘One World,’ Kask echoed.
‘It will take us a little while to reach him. There is whiskey in the decanter, cigars in the humidor. I know it is difficult, but I suggest you just relax and enjoy the ride.’
A glass screen closed between Tomas and Kask.
He felt safe for the first time in hours.
But then, he trusted John implicitly.
The man was the beating heart of One World.
He was special.
Different.
And that difference was intimidating, even to a man steeped in violence like Kask. It was hard not to be afraid of John, even as you were in awe of him.
They drove for more than an hour, which took them well out of Tallinn. They could have been anywhere within a hundred-kilometre radius of the city.
The car slowed, then stopped.
‘I’ll only be a moment.’ Tomas’s disembodied voice crackled through the speaker. A moment later he heard a door open and close.
He felt his heart beat just a little faster.
It was part fear, part anticipation.
The door opposite him opened, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of a very modern building, all glass and steel, that looked more like an office than a home. It was bathed in blue light.
John slid in beside him.
Tomas closed the door behind him.
‘Hello, Maksim,’ John said. There was genuine warmth in his smile, which allayed Kask’s initial fear. ‘I trust you are well?’
‘I am now,’ he said. ‘I need to thank you—’
‘No,’ John said. ‘There is no need to give thanks. You did everything that was asked of you. We are one family.’
‘One World,’ Kask completed.
The limo pulled away.
‘Now we need to focus on keeping you safe. We need to be sure you are beyond the reach of your crime. We will need to give you a new identity.’
He knew it was the only solution to his problem. Maksim Kask had to die for Maksim Kask to go on living.
‘I was worried for a moment.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought I had failed somehow …’
‘But you assured us you took care of the problem. You have not failed us, brother. You have sacrificed yourself. That kind of commitment deserves reward, not punishment.’
‘But—’
‘No more, Maksim. You need to trust me. There are still so many ways you will be able to serve us, even if that is not here. You have special talents, brother. We cannot – and will not – allow them to go to waste.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I told you, gratitude is neither expected or needed. Now, I think the best use of your talents while we make arrangements for your extraction will be to evaluate some of our newest recruits. I want you to test their limits. We need to know that they are ready to serve the family.’
‘We’re going to the compound?’
‘Indeed.’
It had been a long time since he’d been to the compound, but his first visit was seared into his memory. He had been told that it would prove his commitment to the family, and that he was deserving of his place.
The things they had asked him to do …
There had been a moment when he had questioned his faith, unsure that he wanted to be part of their family, but as he’d looked down at the girl something inside him had awoken. In that moment he had changed. The Shepherd called it his awakening. It was as though a different man had emerged from the compound. A man capable of so much more than the one who had first set foot in the place.
‘In many ways it is unchanged. We have many such places across Europe, each devoted to different aspects of One World. This one, we use to identify people’s skill sets and how they might best be put to work. There are others where people with special abilities are given the opportunity to show their worth.’
Kask nodded. It made sense. It was a business. Not just a faith. It grew by identifying skill sets and potential and recognizing how to develop them.
‘What do you want me to do there?’
‘I was thinking that you might run a course.’
‘What kind of course?’
The Shepherd’s smile was cold. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. You have a rare talent, Maksim. Even I was not aware you possessed this gift. It changes things. It changes your value. Yes, some aspects were executed well whilst others went wrong. But that is where we can look to improve. The ability to take a life, to be the reaper of the group, that is rare. You are special, my friend. I always knew you were. I just did not know how special.’
The words were so matter-of-fact, he could just as easily have been asking him if he could play killer riffs on the bass or shoot some serious curls on his surfboard.
The
Shepherd was asking him to teach others how to kill.
Kask rubbed at the dark stubble beginning to show through his chin. He hadn’t thought about killing Annja Rosen. It hadn’t been a planned and thought-out execution. It had been necessity and, to a huge extent, fear. It had been about protecting something he loved: his family.
What The Shepherd was asking him to do here, that was different.
It was premeditated.
It wasn’t defensive.
How could he talk to others about what it felt like to look someone in the eye as you strangled the life out of them, and talk them through the practicalities of getting away with murder?
It felt … insane.
‘I don’t know if I can—’ he started to protest, but John silenced him.
‘The best educators suffer failures and learn from them. Believe me when I say death will become easier now. That first time you take a life, that is by far the hardest. I am proud of you, brother. You have surpassed even my wildest hope for you. You are one of the best of us. And believe me when I say this, you can.’
FORTY-TWO
The lights went out without warning, leaving her in pitch darkness.
Frankie had been in her room for an hour. They had all retreated to their own spaces.
The segregation made it impossible to talk to the girls alone. They were only ever together as a group, and as a group it was much more unlikely they’d share. There was method here. None of it was random. It was well thought out, and chilling to the core.
After her confession session with Charles she’d watched a propaganda film about the work that One World did and how it intended to reach out into the African nations to do more good works and win the hearts and minds through charity, opening up the people there to the words of The Shepherd.
At first, it was easy to see the good, the way the message focused on the hungry and the food banks and the message of hope, but there was a second layer to the message of the film, a sort of missionary zeal to it, that was uncomfortable. She couldn’t say exactly what it was about the film or its message that set her teeth on edge, but it was obvious the intent of the short piece went beyond the spreading of the word. It was a blueprint for building a cult entwined around The Shepherd’s identity.
Alone on her bed, she’d spent the last hour reading the book that Charles had given her. There was nothing in it but cheap psychology and more propaganda about all the good work One World did. The message was crude. Charles had told them to think about it, and in the morning they’d be asked what they could do.
Frankie could think of plenty she could do, but she wasn’t about to offer any of her unique talents up to One World.
She took the toothbrush and towel that had been left for her and went through to the shared bathroom.
From somewhere along the narrow corridor she heard the muffled sound of sobbing.
She knew she shouldn’t risk getting involved, because getting involved wouldn’t bring her closer to Irma, but she wasn’t about to walk away. She paused by the next door, listening. Behind the door, the crying stopped, as though the girl knew someone was listening.
A floorboard creaked, and a moment later the next door opened. ‘It’s Alina,’ Alex said, emerging from the room. She was already in her nightwear. ‘She’s homesick. I have tried to tell her this is a better place, but she’s young. She doesn’t understand. If she doesn’t settle then I’m worried she won’t be able to stay with us.’
‘What about her sister? Why not room them together. Make it as easy for her as possible.’
‘Tania’s in a different building. Charles thinks that Alina’s been using her as a crutch; that their relationship is detrimental to Alina’s development. We are all one family,’ she said, then waited for Frankie to respond.
‘One World,’ she said eventually, but with a lot less enthusiasm than the other girl had expected.
‘She needs to learn that we are all sisters. There are bonds stronger than blood.’
‘So, she’s left to break her heart alone in the dark,’ Frankie said. ‘If she’s our family, then we should share her pain, shouldn’t we? Sit with her in the darkness until she is calm and finally sleeps. If we share her pain, then we forge a bond that cannot be broken.’ She knew she sounded too together, too OK, all things considered, but she couldn’t listen to a kid in pain and not try and do something about it. What was Alex going to do? Turn her in to Charles because she didn’t sound broken enough?
‘Knock yourself out,’ Alex said, sliding past her to enter the bathroom.
Frankie taped softly on the door. ‘Alina? It’s me, Ceska. Can I come in?’
There was no reply.
Maybe the poor kid had managed to cry herself to sleep.
She waited at the doorway for a moment, then heard another muffled sob.
‘I’m going to come in,’ she said, then opened the door before Alina could say no.
She was sat up in bed, wiping her hands across her eyes. She looked so incredibly small in the dim light, sitting cross-legged in pyjamas that were far too large for her. The effect made her look even smaller. Frankie smiled softly and sat at the edge of the bed. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen, she thought, reappraising her original guess, which was so much worse. She didn’t belong in a place like this.
‘I think this is a scary place,’ she said, doing her best to keep her English simple so the girl could understand.
‘I want to go home.’
‘I bet there are times when we all want that,’ Frankie said, but the girl just shrugged. What she really wanted to do was reach out, take her hand, and promise that she’d do everything she could to get her home. But she had no way of knowing if their rooms were bugged. A little kindness could ruin any chance she had of finding out what had happened to her cousin. And even if the rooms weren’t bugged, there was every chance Alina herself would say something, by accident or design, that would just as easily betray her best intentions. So she didn’t. Instead she asked, ‘Did you see anything in the film that you thought looked like fun?’ Another shrug. ‘What about the animals? Do you like animals? I like animals. I like dogs. We used to have a dog when I was growing up. He was a scruffy little soul called Buster. He had the curliest coat, it was always tangled so I had to brush him every day.’ There had been a brief clip of One World volunteers working on some kind of nature reserve somewhere in Africa. Nothing about the location or the work they were doing there had been remotely specific, but they were smiling as they washed the elephants, and Frankie gambled that that was the kind of thing that a young girl would like.
That earned a slight smile in the shadows. ‘I like dogs.’
‘Did you ever have one?’
‘We’re not allowed to talk about before … is this a test?’
It was heartbreaking that even now the girl thought they were trying to trick her into failing whatever tests they set up for them all.
‘It’s not a test, I promise. I was just thinking that maybe One World have some sort of animal shelter where you could help out. Would you like that?’
The girl nodded and reached for her copy of the book, flipping through it. She stopped every few pages. Even in the poor light she seemed content to just look at the pictures.
It was like a little sprinkle of magic, a few kind words and a fond memory, and the whole atmosphere of the room lifted.
Frankie couldn’t help but think she was doing the worst of One World’s job for them.
And she hated herself just a little bit for it.
Frankie returned to her room.
Alex sat on her bed, waiting.
As Frankie came through the door she cupped her hand to her ear and cocked her head. ‘Silence? I guess you got through to her?’ She smiled.
Frankie shrugged. ‘I just talked to her.’
‘What do you promise her? Cookies and milk if she was a good girl?’
‘I didn’t lie to her. I just asked her if she saw anythin
g in that little movie they showed us that she liked. And we talked about animals for a bit. She’s just a kid. I told her that maybe there was a chance she could work with animals if she had an affinity for them. It gave her something good to think about. It gave her a glimpse of a good future, not the past.’ She shrugged as if she thought it was nothing, but Alex seemed to think otherwise.
‘Maybe they’re right about you. Maybe you really do have a gift. Because she’s been crying for two days straight and you’ve got to her in a few minutes. You’re the child-whisperer.’
‘Ha, I don’t know about that. It just seemed like the obvious thing to do.’
‘Not to anyone else, which means it wasn’t obvious. So if you’ve got nothing to suggest in the morning when they ask you how you can help people, I’d say that. You’ve got a gift with kids. You’re a natural.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me? I’ve got a never-ending list of talents, but I’m not sure sucking a softball through a straw counts.’
‘You’re really quick to put yourself down.’
‘I know me.’
Frankie shook her head. ‘They saw something in you or you wouldn’t be here. That’s how it works.’
‘Seriously, I doubt they’ll have any need for the things I’m good at. But I am very good at them. Or so I’ve been told.’
She slid off the bed and Frankie was sure Alex gave her a wink before she slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
The girls in this place came from all walks of life, from privileged to desperate and every stop in between. Life hadn’t been kind to any of them or they wouldn’t have ended up here, looking to save themselves or be saved by something bigger.
She knew exactly how Alex had survived.
Frankie perched herself on the desk, feet on the chair, and lifted the edge of the curtain a fraction to look outside.
There wasn’t much to see. In the next building along another curtain twitched, offering a tantalizing glimpse of light before it fell back. It was almost certainly Alina’s sister, Tania, worrying about her.
The Black Shepherd Page 18
