Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4) Read online

  Norimov was quiet for a long moment. Eventually, he said, ‘Okay,’ because there was nothing else he could say.

  ‘Where’s Yigor now?’

  ‘Driving. He’s waiting to hear from you.’

  Victor said, ‘He can stay waiting.’

  ‘What are you and Gisele going to do next?’

  ‘I’m not telling you.’

  ‘Excuse me? I’m her father.’

  ‘And I’m protecting her. That means I do things my way. My way is the reason you don’t yet have to organise her funeral.’

  A sigh. ‘Okay. Fine. You can handle this however you see fit. I’ll go along with whatever you think is best.’

  Victor said, ‘You don’t have a choice,’ and hung up.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  They ditched the car, leaving the engine running and the lights on. It was only a matter of time before it was stolen, Gisele’s companion had explained. What the thief or thieves did with it was unimportant, but they would add another layer of defence against their enemies. They caught a bus, then alighted to board the tube, then another bus before a taxi took them the rest of the way to a hotel. He paid the fare and left a modest tip.

  He guided Gisele into the lobby and up to the third floor and she followed him to where she assumed he had been staying as he already had a keycard. She watched in silent confusion as he went into the bathroom and spent a few minutes pouring shampoo and body wash into the bathtub, then rinsing it away before unwrapping soap and wetting towels. She wanted to know what he was doing but had no energy to ask. She left him and flopped down on to the bed.

  He entered a moment later and said, ‘Get up.’

  She lay there, eyes closed, hoping he would just let her rest.

  A strong hand gripped her by the wrist and wrenched her to her feet.

  ‘What the fuck . ⁠. . ⁠?’

  He didn’t answer. She looked on as he messed up the neatly made bed and squashed and punched the pillows.

  ‘What did that bed ever do to you?’

  He ignored her – infuriating her in the process – and went briefly back to the bathroom, returning with a freestanding mirror that he then placed on the window sill, painstakingly positioning it as if it was the most important thing in the world.

  ‘You have serious issues.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  ‘Go? We just got here. You said we were going to rest.’

  He held open the door and ushered her through it.

  Back on the ground floor he steered her away from the lobby when she headed in that direction. She was looking around and becoming increasingly confused as he took her through the hotel’s ground floor, past the business centre and fitness suite and out of the southern exit.

  ‘Where are we going now?’ she asked.

  ‘We’re nearly there.’

  He checked the traffic and crossed the road beneath the railway and cut between the sparse line of trees.

  ‘Here?’

  They entered his other hotel and used the stairs to ascend to the third floor. He unlocked his room with another keycard and led Gisele inside. She stepped in slowly, brow creased and eyes wide as she looked around, trying to understand what they were doing. This made no sense at all.

  ‘You can sit down,’ he said.

  ‘Are you going to tell me to stand up in three minutes’ time?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Promise?’

  He nodded and she flopped down on to the bed. After a moment, she asked, ‘What was wrong with the previous room?’

  ‘This one is better.’

  ‘If you say so,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve given up trying to understand you.’

  She watched as he closed the curtains. As with the mirror, he spent a bizarrely long amount of time adjusting them. He turned around. She realised there was only one bed. Her pulse quickened as she feared he would want to share it. It disgusted her to think of him lying next to her.

  ‘You can sleep in the bed,’ he said. ‘I’ll take the armchair.’

  She wondered if he’d seen in her face what she’d been thinking and felt bad for it. She pushed herself up on to her elbows. ‘Funnily enough, I’m not actually tired now. My brain is fried. Deep-fried in crazy, that is.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you should try to get some rest. First rule of soldiering: sleep whenever you can.’

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a soldier. I’m about as far from a soldier as you are from a normal person. Well, maybe not that far.’

  ‘You still have to sleep,’ he insisted. ‘You may not feel like it now, but if you don’t, it will catch you out tomorrow. That’s how it works.’

  ‘And we need to be alert, right? Because they might come after me again?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘God, it’s so much work.’

  She sat up and pushed herself off the bed. She had to walk off some of the nervous energy. She paced and watched him as he wedged the back of a desk chair underneath the door handle. It seemed such a simple precaution to take, but she would never have thought to do it. Her mind was racing at one hundred miles an hour, but she couldn’t think clearly. In comparison, his calmness was unnatural and unnerving.

  Stepping away from the door, he said, ‘Whoever these people are, they are heavily invested in you, Gisele. They’re skilled and they have numbers. And they will succeed unless we do everything right. Even then, it might not be enough.’

  ‘Thanks for the reassurance.’

  ‘I’m not attempting to reassure you. I’m telling you how it is, because you can’t afford to relax for a second.’

  ‘Then how am I meant to sleep?’

  ‘Stop trying to pick a fight with me. It won’t work.’

  ‘I don’t like you,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘I know. But I don’t need you to like me. I just need you to do what I say.’

  ‘You sound like Alex.’

  He didn’t respond. He went to step around her on the way to the bathroom and she flinched. He saw it and backed away, seeing her fear even though she was trying to hide it. For a moment they stood in silence, her afraid and him surprised, until he said, ‘There’s nothing to be nervous of, Gisele.’

  ‘You killed two men. You tortured one.’

  ‘I did what was necessary,’ he explained.

  ‘Says you. I don’t know what’s necessary or not. I don’t understand any of this.’ She rubbed her arm. ‘All I have to go on is what you tell me. How am I supposed to know if what you’re saying is true? I look at you now and you don’t seem any different from when I first met you. But so much has happened since then. I can barely keep a lid on what I’m feeling. I can only just about stop myself screaming at the top of my lungs. Yet you… nothing. You said you were used to it, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? What happened doesn’t bother you at all. Getting attacked. Killing those men. The blood. The violence. None of it has even the slightest effect.’

  She was staring at him intently and saw that he thought about lying but the second’s deliberation was all it took for Gisele to see the truth.

  She said, ‘Man, you are a fucking psycho,’ and backed away.

  ‘It didn’t bother me, that’s true. But you don’t have to worry about me, Gisele. I won’t hurt you.’

  ‘Again, says you.’ She backed away another step until her shoulder blades were against the wall next to the door. ‘What’s the word of a murderer worth?’

  He didn’t respond.

  She said, ‘If you wanted to, you could kill me just like that,’ and clicked her fingers. ‘Couldn’t you?’

  His black eyes didn’t blink. ‘I’ll never want to.’

  ‘But you could. If you are lying and turn on me, there’s literally nothing I could do to stop you, right?’

  He had no choice but to nod. They both knew it was the truth. Denying it would have been ridiculous.

  He said, ‘I’m here to protect you, Gisele. To that end I’ll do everything
I’m capable of to make sure no one harms you. If that scares you, then I’m sorry.’

  She noted he was careful to create as much distance as possible between them as he passed. He flicked on the light switch.

  ‘You don’t scare me,’ Gisele said from behind him. ‘You terrify me.’

  He paused, and nodded without looking back.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  The night had always been Victor’s friend. He guessed he had spent more of his waking life during the night than the day. He had learned to know the night and to use it, but now it was an enemy because he was not alone. Gisele was finally still beneath the duvet after tossing and turning for a while. She complained about the lights being left on but Victor was insistent. She lay on her side at the very edge of the bed – as far away from him as possible. He didn’t blame her.

  Victor stood by the window, gazing outwards. He was relaxed, yet vigilant. He was used to waiting. Waiting was half his work: waiting for people to show; waiting for them to leave; waiting for it to get dark. The most undervalued skill of the assassin was patience. Those who didn’t have it didn’t survive for long. Now, that patience might keep Gisele – and him – alive.

  He’d said he would take the chair but he stood. The chair was wedged against the door handle. He was positioned by the window, looking out between the curtains, but from an acute angle. Across the street on the other side of the concrete posts supporting the elevated railway line he saw his other room and the mirror set on the window sill. He could see nothing in the reflection. If he could, it would mean someone was in the room.

  Gisele woke with a start, bolting upright in the bed, gasping when she saw him but then relaxing, slowly, when she had processed the situation.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ she said.

  ‘That’s good,’ Victor replied. ‘Try and go back to sleep. Get as much sleep as you can.’

  ‘First rule of soldiering?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘What are you doing by the window?’

  He shrugged, as though it was nothing. ‘Just passing the time.’

  ‘You can’t sleep?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Almost three thirty.’

  ‘Have you had any sleep?’

  ‘Yes,’ he lied.

  He looked at her. She was massaging her left triceps. That was the third time he’d seen her rubbing her arm. As far as he knew, she wasn’t injured.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She huffed. ‘Never better.’

  ‘What’s wrong with your arm?’

  She looked back at him, at first confused, then understanding. ‘I get somatic pain when I’m stressed. Nice how my body turns against me at the very worst possible times, isn’t it?’

  If she had been injured, he could have used his medical knowledge to help, but she had no physical ailment he could treat. He was powerless.

  ‘You almost look concerned about me,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m used to it.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Victor said, ‘you’re going to have to cut your hair.’

  She stopped rubbing her arm. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘It’s a precaution. Your hair stands out as it is.’

  ‘It’s not exactly long. If I cut it shorter then I’ll be more memorable and noticeable, surely?’

  ‘True, but they already know who you are and what you look like. If it takes them an extra second to realise that the young woman with short hair is actually you, that might save your life.’

  She frowned. ‘What can happen in a second?’

  ‘Let’s hope you don’t find out.’

  ‘Fine, you win. It’s the middle of the night. I don’t have the energy to argue with you any more. In the morning I’ll cut my hair off and go all nineties lesbian.’

  ‘A few inches off the length will do fine.’

  ‘You want me to colour it too?’

  ‘Ideally, yes. We’ll pick up some dye tomorrow.’

  ‘Sounds great. Can’t wait. Why don’t we go the whole way and I’ll get dreadlocks? Perhaps a few facial piercings? Maybe bleach my eyebrows white?’

  ‘I’m glad you’re able to keep your sense of humour in all this.’

  ‘One of us has to.’ She smirked and pushed her fingers through her hair. ‘I’ll give myself a page-boy cut. Will that do? I think I can pull it off.’

  He nodded. ‘That sounds perfect.’

  She looked away, fingers still in her hair. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘You are?’ Victor said, surprised that anyone would miss him, least of all someone he’d known for such a short time.

  Gisele’s gaze met his. A line of confusion separated her eyebrows for the moment it took her to process what he’d said. ‘I… I was talking to my hair.’

  ‘Of course,’ Victor said, feeling foolish. ‘But it’ll grow back.’

  She nodded as if she hadn’t already known that, as if the misunderstanding had gone unnoticed, to spare him any embarrassment. Then she said, ‘There’s no way I’m going to fall asleep now. Why don’t we play a game or something? Otherwise I’ll spend the rest of the night awake, staring at the ceiling, panicking at every sound.’

  ‘You don’t need to do that. I’ll stay on stag until first light.’

  ‘Stag?’

  ‘British Army term,’ he explained. ‘Means on duty. In this case, on guard duty.’

  She sat forward. ‘You were in the British Army?’

  ‘That’s not what I said.’

  ‘So you weren’t?’

  ‘That’s not what I said either.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me anything about yourself?’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’

  She raised her eyebrows – annoyed but not enough to pursue the issue.

  He could feel her working up to saying something. He didn’t prompt her. He let her say it in her own time.

  ‘I haven’t thanked you for what you did for me earlier tonight. I thought I was going to die back there.’

  He said, ‘You don’t have to thank me.’

  ‘You’ve saved my life.’

  Not yet, he thought.

  FORTY-NINE

  The two big Range Rovers raced through the dark streets, rain pelting the bodywork, tyres throwing up rainwater. In the first vehicle were four of Marcus’s mercenaries. In the second, Anderton sat in the passenger seat while Wade drove. Sinclair sat in the back seat, chewing gum as he adjusted the straps of his Dragon Skin vest to get the most comfortable fit. The windscreen wipers swung back and forth, flicking away rain, each time presenting Anderton with a glimpse of her reflection on the glass. A pretty sight once, but not now with the creases of dishonour cutting through her flesh.

  She finished her phone call with a curt, ‘Keep yourself available,’ and directed Wade to take the next turn. He drove fast, pushing the limit of what they could get away with without drawing the attention of the police. Her credentials would get them out of any bother, but better not to get into it in the first place.

  She updated the two men with what she had learned.

  Rogan’s voice came over the radio: ‘This is Unit One, we’re nearly there. ETA six minutes. Over.’

  She thumbed the send button: ‘Confirm, Unit One. When we arrive I want you to split up and secure the perimeter while we enter and establish location. Make sure you have eyes on all exits. I don’t want them slipping away.’ She released send.

  ‘Copy that.’

  The Range Rover exited the bridge, following the road as it meandered to the right. Wade decelerated as they came to a traffic island.

  From the back seat, Sinclair said, ‘I can handle it. Alone.’

  She didn’t bother to reply.

  ‘I said I can handle it.’

  Anderton met Sinclair’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. ‘Like you handled it at the warehouse?’

  He frowned. ‘That was different. No one told me about the assassin.’r />
  ‘So he would not have bested you had you known he was there?’

  The South African’s voice was clipped and sharp. ‘Correct.’

  ‘For your own sake, I hope you’re right,’ Anderton said. ‘I don’t want any more mistakes.’

  ‘There won’t be,’ Sinclair assured.

  She nodded. ‘I know. Because this time I’m leading.’

  He looked away and continued chewing his gum.

  Next to her, Wade’s gaze was locked on the road ahead but Anderton saw the fear the man was trying to hide. She could smell it on him. He was thinking of his two dead teammates.

  Anderton felt nothing. The death of the two mercenaries had no effect on her except to elevate the stakes of the game. She had a worthy enemy. One who would soon be dead.

  FIFTY

  As she had predicted, Gisele couldn’t get back to sleep. She tried. She really tried. Bedclothes rustled as she attempted to get comfortable and there were sighs of frustration when she failed to drift off. But no matter what she did to relax and clear her mind, images and sounds assailed her consciousness: flashes of grenades, gunshots and cries. Then the fear would rush back into her and her heartbeat would thump in her ears and she found herself panting and more awake than ever. Eventually, she gave up and pushed herself into a sitting position against the headboard, pulling the bedclothes high up over chest even though she was fully dressed.

  He stood near the window, as before. He didn’t acknowledge her. He was so still and focused he didn’t seem alive. She couldn’t decide whether this was a good or bad thing. She did know that it was freaky.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer she climbed out of bed and padded over to where the room’s phone sat on a desk. She lifted up the receiver. That broke whatever spell he was under. He faced her and she said:

  ‘What’s Yigor’s number?’

  ‘Put the phone down, Gisele.’

  ‘Give me Yigor’s number.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Put the phone down and go back to bed.’