Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4) Page 13

  ‘I’m afraid so. Time is not my friend today.’

  ‘And there was me thinking it was my caustic wit that brought you here.’

  She said, ‘The pleasure of your company is why we’re not doing this over the phone.’

  ‘I shall accept that little lie. Why don’t you tell me what kind of trouble you’re in?’

  She didn’t respond. She held his gaze.

  ‘Ah,’ Marcus said eventually. ‘It’s about that.’

  ‘It was never going to be anything else.’

  Marcus placed his wine glass on the table between them. He laced his fingers together. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said it was under control. And that was after you told me we were never supposed to mention it again.’

  ‘Right on both counts. But I’m not mentioning it. Neither are you. Someone else is.’

  ‘Oh,’ Marcus said.

  ‘Yes, oh,’ Anderton said back.

  ‘I thought that was solid. You told me it was.’

  ‘That was then. This is now.’

  Marcus sat back. ‘We don’t work together any longer. How is this still my business?’

  ‘Because your business only exists because of what I – we – did. And you’ve done so very well out of it, haven’t you?’

  He looked away while he considered. Anderton left him to it because there could only be one conclusion.

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ Marcus asked.

  ‘I need your company. Specifically, I need some of your assets.’

  ‘I don’t like where you’re going with this.’

  Anderton smiled. ‘That’s irrelevant, Marcus. You run a private security firm and I’m your new client. I’m asking for a team. Off the books, of course. Only your best.’

  ‘What exactly do you intend to use them for?’

  ‘You know what I need them for. I have my own people for eyes and ears but we’re past that stage now. I can tell you specifics if you like, but I’m guessing you don’t want to know any more than absolutely necessary.’

  Marcus thought about this. ‘How much more damage must be done before this is over?’

  ‘An old Cambridge tutor of mine – Professor Vaughn – used to say, “If you poke a bear once, you may as well keep poking.” Do you understand what that means?’

  Marcus said, ‘I’m afraid I had a very different level of education to yourself. In inner-city London, you count yourself lucky if your teacher shows up. Riddles were never on the agenda.’

  ‘My point is that we’ve already crossed so many lines with our little indiscretion —’

  ‘Indiscretion,’ Marcus echoed. ‘You make it sound so harmless.’

  Anderton ignored the interruption. ‘So what use is there in debating how far we go now?’

  Marcus finished his wine and poured himself another glass. ‘Does Sinclair know about this?’

  She used her nails to lift a Sicilian green olive from a little bowl on the table. ‘Of course. He’s been assisting me. He understands the importance of cleanliness.’

  ‘Is he still crazy?’

  Anderton bit a piece from the olive and chewed. ‘Mmm, that’s divine. I love it here. They only use the best.’

  ‘Well?

  She finished eating and wiped her fingers on a napkin. ‘He’s who he’s always been. Just like you, however much you try to hide it behind all this aspirational decadence.’

  ‘Always has to come back to class with you, doesn’t it, Nieve? If I so chose I could buy this here restaurant you’re so partial to. Today. In cash.’

  She smiled at him. ‘That’s the thing about class, Marcus: the more you try to buy it, the more you find it’s sold out.’

  He swallowed some wine. ‘Sinclair’s a liability. You know I had to fire him, don’t you? The man took far too much pleasure in his work than is healthy, even for a mercenary. Using him for this makes me very uncomfortable. He’s a dangerous dog who should have been destroyed long ago.’

  ‘There’s some merit in that analogy, granted. But he has as much stake in this as you and I. And you’re forgetting the essential fact about our dear friend: I hold his lead.’

  Marcus considered this. He toyed with the gold Patek Philippe on his left wrist. ‘I have a team in North Africa. They’re good. More importantly: they’re reliable.’

  ‘They sound perfect,’ Anderton said.

  ‘When and where do you want them?’

  ‘Here, in London. And I need them here yesterday.’

  TWENTY-SIX

  The United Kingdom has the highest rate of violent crime in the whole of Europe, but even so a triple murder in a leafy London street was a big deal. However, not even a day after Victor had killed three of Moran’s men in Gisele’s apartment there were no outward signs that any crime had been committed. The street seemed as quiet and peaceful as it had before. He expected there to have been a police car stationed outside the building last night, parked against the kerb where it was visible to the residents, to reassure them. The two officers unlucky enough to have pulled that duty would have complained to each other about the waste of manpower, but the decision was for public relations. A triple murder, yes, but the three dead men were all criminals. Whoever had killed them wouldn’t be coming back to butcher the neighbours.

  Victor made sure his tie was straight and the knot tight as he walked up the gravel driveway. The same three cars were parked there as had been on his first visit. Gisele’s sat in the same place as before. At the front door, he knuckled the buzzers for the two flats below Gisele’s. No one answered. He descended the steps and moved around the side of the building to where the garden flat was located. He knocked on the front door.

  There was no answer, but he heard someone inside so knocked again.

  A chain clinked in place and the door opened a few inches until it became taut.

  ‘Yes?’

  A narrow segment of a woman’s face was visible in the gap between door and jamb. She looked in her late fifties or early sixties.

  Victor flipped open his wallet to give the woman the briefest snapshot of the ID inside. Her limited line of sight helped. ‘How do you do, ma’am? I’m Detective Sergeant Blake with the Metropolitan Police. I’d like to ask you a few questions about the events of the other night.’

  ‘I already spoke at length to a DCI Crawley.’

  ‘I know, ma’am. But the inquiry is ongoing and with new information comes the need for new questions. May I come in?’

  She chewed her lip for a second. ‘Now really isn’t a good time for me.’

  ‘I won’t keep you long, I promise. The sooner we can fill in all our blanks, the sooner we can catch those responsible.’

  ‘Those? Inspector Crawley gave me the impression you were only looking for a single perpetrator.’

  That gave Victor a moment’s pause. Whoever DCI Crawley was, he knew how to read a crime scene. ‘We can’t rule anything or anyone out at this present time. But the quicker they’re off the streets, the better. As I’m sure you’ll agree.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘May I come in?’

  Deliberation. A sigh of defeat. ‘Okay. Yes. Come inside.’

  She shut the door to unhook the chain and opened it to allow him to enter. He stepped through the doorway into the hall. The ceiling was only a few inches above his head.

  ‘This way, please.’

  The woman led him through to a lounge and offered him a seat. Floral paper covered the walls. Ornaments and antique oddities adorned every sideboard, of which there were many. Oil paintings hung from every wall. The floors were all carpeted and overlaid with colourful rugs.

  He sat down in an armchair that gave him the best view of the door and the window. The curtains were closed. The flat was half sunk into the ground and even with the closed curtains he knew the driveway would only begin halfway up the window. Natural light would be a problem, especially in winter. Two lamps were switched on. The room had a warm, soft glow. The woman lo
oked ten years younger than she had in the hallway. He didn’t know her name. He’d been looking out for letters but there had been no mail by the door or left on sideboards.

  ‘So, Sergeant. How can I help?’

  ‘I wonder if I might trouble you for a glass of water first. Please.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, sounding like it was. She left him to go to the kitchen.

  He stood and slid open the drawers of a corner bureau until he found utility bills and bank statements. He was back in the armchair when she re-entered with a highball glass of water.

  ‘There you go.’

  ‘Thank you… is it Miss or Mrs Cooper?’

  ‘Miss. But call me Yvette, please.’

  ‘Thank you, Yvette.’

  He sipped the water and set the glass down. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware by now, there was a violent crime in the top-floor flat two nights ago.’

  ‘Three murders.’

  ‘That’s right. I’d like to talk to you about the flat’s occupier.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He saw she was suspicious and holding back, perhaps not believing he was who he said.

  ‘Do you know Gisele Maynard?’

  ‘We’re neighbours. I knew her about enough to say hello in the morning. That kind of thing.’

  ‘Do you know where she is?’

  Yvette shook her head. ‘I haven’t a clue.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘Oh, I really don’t know. Obviously, before she went missing.’

  Victor nodded. ‘So, you believe she is missing?’

  ‘I… Well, no one’s seen her, have they?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to establish. She hasn’t been to work in over a week now. Does she have a boyfriend she might be staying with?’

  ‘No. There’s hasn’t been anyone like that in her life for a while.’

  ‘What about friends?’

  ‘I don’t think she had many. At least, proper friends. All she did was work. She was very passionate about her job.’

  ‘And family? She has a father in Russia. Might she be visiting him?’

  Yvette shook her head. ‘Definitely not. She had nothing to do with him. He’s not a nice man. Shouldn’t you be writing all this down?’

  He smiled and tapped the side of his skull. ‘I have a good memory for these things. On the night of the murders, did you hear or see anything?’

  ‘No, I was at work that night. Thank God.’

  ‘What kind of work do you do, Miss Cooper? I’m sorry, Yvette.’

  ‘I do shifts at the delivery office. I hate it.’ She smiled and laughed. ‘Don’t have much choice at my age.’

  Victor nodded. Yvette sat with her knees close together and her hands in her lap.

  ‘Do you live alone, Miss Cooper?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘If there was another resident, I would have to speak to them about the other night. That’s all.’

  ‘I had a flatmate once. Years ago now. I prefer living on my own. Not sure how much longer I’ll be able to afford it, though. It’s so expensive in London.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Victor said. ‘My partner and I are struggling to save for a deposit.’

  ‘Take my advice and go somewhere where you’ll get a place twice the size for the same money. But, good luck with it.’

  Victor said, ‘I think that’s everything. Thank you for your time.’ He stood, and said as she went to do the same. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.’

  ‘Do you have a card? In case I think of anything else.’

  He patted the left side of his chest, over his inside jacket pocket. ‘Not on me, I’m afraid. But someone will probably pop round to see you again.’

  ‘Great,’ she said without enthusiasm.

  ‘Cheers. May I use your bathroom?’

  ‘If you must.’

  Like the rest of the flat it had a low ceiling. An extractor fan buzzed on when he flicked the light switch. He closed the door behind him. He stood for a minute. He didn’t move. He didn’t need to do anything because he had seen what he had come into the bathroom to see.

  When he stepped out and back into the hallway he found Yvette standing there, waiting for him. Her face was stern and frowning. ‘Are you really a copper? Let me see your ID again. You’d better not be a bloody journalist after scraps. You people make me sick.’

  Victor didn’t bother arguing. He opened the closed door.

  ‘Hey,’ Yvette called, ‘what are you doing? That’s my room.’

  On the other side of the door was a bedroom. It was as full of ornaments as the lounge. The bed was immaculately made. There was no en suite or sliding or walk-in wardrobe. He approached the second door. Yvette stood in his path.

  ‘I’d like you to leave.’

  Victor said, ‘You claim to live alone yet there are two toothbrushes in your bathroom. You told me you weren’t here the other night but I saw your lights were on. It’s not yet dark but all your blinds are closed.’

  ‘I said I’d like you to go now. Get out of my home.’

  ‘I will have no choice but to move you if you don’t let me pass.’

  She squared herself in front of him. ‘If you do, I’ll call the police. The real police.’

  ‘Last chance,’ Victor said. ‘Move.’

  She glared at him. ‘Get. Out. Now.’

  ‘It’s okay, Yvette,’ a voice said from behind the closed door.

  It opened and a young woman appeared.

  ‘Hello, Gisele,’ Victor said.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  At five-six she was a little shorter than Victor had expected. She had an average build with strong shoulders and hips. Her skin was almost white and dusted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was dyed a darker red than her natural colour, making her eyes all the bluer. They were large and the shape of almonds, but half-hidden by a pair of designer glasses. Though she didn’t have the height, in every other respect she looked like her mother. She tried to ignore it but he saw her stiffen at the sound of her name. She saw that he knew.

  ‘If you don’t leave,’ Yvette said. ‘I’m going to call the police.’

  Victor ignored her. He kept his gaze locked with Gisele’s. Her eyes were beautiful, whites intense to the point of glowing and irises bluer than any ocean he’d ever seen. Her mother’s had been the same.

  ‘Who are you?’

  Yvette said, ‘He’s says he’s a policeman. But he lied. He’s a stinking journo.’

  ‘No, he’s not,’ Gisele said.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Victor agreed. ‘I’m here because your father sent me.’

  ‘Stepfather,’ Gisele corrected. Norimov had been right. She did hate him.

  He nodded to concede his mistake. ‘I don’t have time to explain. It’s important that you come with me.’

  She shook her head. Once. ‘No chance.’

  That caught him off guard. He hadn’t considered that she would be an unwilling player. But it made sense. She was smart, educated and she hated Norimov. Victor felt foolish for thinking she would behave otherwise. He was as much a stranger to her as she was to him.

  ‘Your stepfather is concerned for your safety.’

  ‘Then maybe he should have chosen a less dangerous way to earn a living.’

  ‘He loves you,’ Victor said.

  She laughed. He didn’t know whether that was because she considered such a thing funny or because of the clumsy way he delivered it. He was unused to saying such things.

  ‘What did you say your name was?’

  Again, Yvette answered for him: ‘Blake, unless he’s lying about that too.’

  ‘If he works for my stepdad, then everything he told you was a lie.’

  Victor said, ‘You can call me Vasily, if you like.’

  ‘Okay, Vasily. My stepdad sent you. Great. Now fuck off.’

  ‘Seconded,’ Yvette added.

  ‘I don’t want to scare you, Gisele
. But I don’t know how else to say this: you’re in a lot of danger. I’m here to protect you. But you have to come with me.’

  She leaned against the doorframe, arms folded in front of her chest in a show of defiance. ‘I’m going nowhere.’

  ‘Your life is at risk.’

  The blue eyes widened. ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  ‘I think that a week ago something happened that scared you and you’ve been staying here ever since. Am I right?’

  Yvette said, ‘You shouldn’t trust him.’

  She stood close to him, closer than he usually allowed people to get, but he saw that she did this out of protectiveness of Gisele – standing between him and her – and so made no move to reposition himself or her.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t.’ She stared at Victor, hands on her hipbones. ‘You’ll forgive me if I have an issue taking your word for that, seeing as I’ve known you for two whole seconds.’

  ‘I understand that. I do. I can imagine how all this sounds to you. I’m a stranger, but I’m an old friend of your father’s. He sent me because there are people who are seeking to do him harm. And you by association.’

  She thought about this for a moment. ‘If you and my… if you and Alex are old friends, how come I’ve never met you?’

  ‘That’s a good question. I suppose I should have said we were business associates instead of friends.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘so you’re a gangster too. Now I really don’t trust you.’

  ‘Gangster?’ Yvette said, eyes wide.

  ‘I’m not a gangster.’

  Gisele said, ‘If you know Alex, then you’re a criminal. Feel free to deny it, if you like.’

  ‘That is true enough,’ Victor said. ‘I am a criminal. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are in danger and I’m here to keep you safe.’

  ‘Why am I in danger?’

  ‘Perhaps we can sit down in the lounge and talk this through,’ he suggested.

  ‘I’m fine where I am,’ Gisele said. She settled against the doorframe as though it was the most comfortable place in the flat.

  Yvette added, ‘There’s no point sitting down. You’ll be going soon. Alone.’