Lady of the Shades (13 page)

As Axel’s head snaps backwards, I drag him to the door, grab the telephone cable, loop it round his throat, take firm hold of the cord with both hands, dig my right knee into the small of
his back and pull. The guard’s eyes bulge as the cable cuts into the flesh of his throat. He slaps at my hands and jerks at the noose. No good. The loop tightens. He’s at my mercy. And
I have none.

Andeanna screams as the guard’s legs thrash. The stench of released faeces hits the air. His hands claw at mine, nails scratching my lower arms. His tongue sticks out obscenely. His teeth
grind down on it, drawing blood, then peel apart as he seeks the elusive breath which might restore his vitality.

The ghosts writhe with delight and applaud grotesquely. This is what they want, me shedding my respectable charade, giving in to my baser instincts, damning myself. They think that violence will
unhinge my senses and leave me vulnerable, in their clutches. They might be right, but I can’t let that stop me.

I concentrate on the cable, driving my knee down into Axel’s back, pinning him to the floor, making sure my sweaty fingers don’t slip, not letting myself forget that he has a gun and
needs only the slightest opportunity to reverse our situations.

Wicked choking sounds. His palms slap flatly on the floor. His body goes limp as he passes out. If I release him now, he’ll revive in the morning, bruised, maybe mute for a few days, but
alive. I want to free him. I don’t enjoy killing. But he’s seen us together. He’d tell the Turk. It’s us or him.

I relax my grip on the cable, let the loop loosen, wipe my hands on the thighs of my trousers, take hold of the cable again. I maintain the pressure for a long minute before letting go and
stepping away from the corpse.

Andeanna approaches, hands clasped as if in prayer, fingertips to her lips. She walks around the lifeless body, then stares at me, terrified. ‘You killed him,’ she whispers.

‘I had to.’ She stares at my hands, which are only trembling slightly. I’d like to talk her through this, but there isn’t time. The guard wasn’t calling her name.
He was looking for her son. ‘Where’s Greygo?’ I ask.

‘You strangled him,’ she says, ignoring me, captivated by the corpse.

‘He called for Greygo. Is your son here?’

‘You killed him. Just throttled him until . . . ’

I raise a hand to slap her, then think of her bruises and lower it. Grasping her shoulders, I shake her lightly. ‘Andeanna!’ Her eyes snap into focus and fix on mine. ‘Is
Greygo here?’

She considers the question carefully before replying. ‘No.’

‘Then why was the guard calling his name?’

She frowns. Her gaze darts towards the body, but I step in front of her, blocking her view, forcing her to concentrate. She shakes her head. ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t think he
was home. But I’ve been in the music room all night. Maybe . . . ’

‘We have to check.’ I turn to the guard and search for his gun, which I find strapped to his side in a sleek leather holster.

Andeanna gasps when she sees me holding the pistol. ‘No! I won’t let you harm Greygo. He’s my son. You’re not going to –’

‘This is for protection only. I might club him over the head with the butt if I have to, but I won’t shoot him.’

‘If you kill my child . . . ’

‘I know. Now let’s go see if we can find him.’

I help her up the stairs. Her legs are weak and she has to lean on me much of the way. Watching someone die is never easy. Watching someone being murdered is harder still. I’d let her rest
if I could, but if her son’s upstairs he has to be neutralized. If we’re lucky, he’ll be sleeping and we can lock him in his room. If luck’s against us, I’ll try to
knock him out. I don’t want to hurt him. I know that Andeanna would never forgive me if I did.

I ask her to call his name when we reach the landing. Her first attempt is a brittle croak. Swallowing, she tries again. ‘Greygo.’ No answer. ‘Greygo! Are you here?’ The
silence is absolute.

‘His room,’ I whisper. She leads the way, walking stiffly, and pauses by the door, unwilling to open it. Pushing past her, I turn the handle and slide into a cool, dark room. The
curtains are open. The bed’s unoccupied. Nobody home. ‘Where else could he be?’

‘I don’t think he’s here. He’d have checked in with me if he’d come back.’

‘But if he was here, where would he be?’

She shrugs. ‘The pool room, maybe.’

We proceed cautiously. Andeanna observes me silently. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I doubt it’s anything positive. The ghosts are still cavorting madly, as if dancing
on hot coals. This is the most excitement they’ve had in years. They’re eager for more. Even the little girl is bloodthirsty, wanting to see me kill again, condemning myself to more
guilt, suffering and madness.

The lights are on in the pool room but nobody’s present. I sniff the air for traces of aftershave or smoke. Nothing. Only chalk dust.

‘He isn’t here,’ Andeanna says with relief.

‘Are there any other rooms where . . . ?’

She shakes her head firmly. ‘He isn’t home.’

‘You’re certain?’

She nods. ‘We can check if his car’s in the garage, but I know it won’t be. We’d have run into him by now if he was here.’

She’s probably right, but I make her take me to the garage all the same. It’s empty. No Greygo. We’re alone.

Back in the dining room, I study the sprawled guard and consider my next move. No blood, which is good. He’s tall, but not heavily built. Shouldn’t be too hard to carry. ‘We
have to wrap him up,’ I tell Andeanna, frisking him for keys, his wallet, rings and chains. ‘Do you have any rubber blankets?’

‘I don’t know,’ Andeanna replies, staring at the cord around his throat, the ugly red line of death carved into his flesh.

‘If you haven’t, we’ll use a couple of ordinary blankets covered with plastic bags.’ I gently unwrap the telephone cable from around his neck. Tracing it to the phone in
the hallway, I check for a dial tone and find one. That means I just have to wipe the cable with a cloth and stick it back against the wall.

‘We need to work quickly,’ I tell Andeanna as I return to the dining room. ‘Once we have him wrapped, I’ll get my car, bundle him into the trunk and . . . ’ I stop.
‘Where’s
his
car? Why didn’t we hear him pulling back into the drive?’ Andeanna looks blank. ‘He drove out of here but he didn’t drive back. We’d
have heard him. Why did he return so soon, on foot?’

She shakes her head. I reach out to grab her shoulders again, but she pulls away. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she snarls.

‘OK.’ I lower my hands. ‘You don’t have to fear me. I’ll give you all the space you need. But don’t freak out on me. We have to hold it together.’

‘You killed him.’

‘Yes,’ I sigh. ‘But that isn’t the issue. Where the hell is his car?’ It comes out louder than I intended.

Andeanna blinks. ‘Axel drives an old Skoda. It sometimes stalls. It must have quit on him on the way to the shops. That’s why he called for Greygo — he hoped he was here, to
help push the car.’

‘We have to find it. We’ll use it to get rid of the body, then dump it. That will be safer than taking him in my car. Then we can –’

‘You killed him,’ Andeanna interrupts.

‘Are we back to that?’ I groan.

‘You killed him coldly, calmly, like it was no big thing, as if it wasn’t the first time you’d done it.’ Her voice is steady. I stare at her wordlessly while she circles
me as she earlier circled the corpse, eyes pinning me to the spot. The ghosts circle with her, swaying and cooing. ‘I saw Mikis kill a man once. Fourteen years ago, in Blackpool. He attacked
us. He had a knife. Mikis disarmed him, took the knife and kept stabbing until he was dead.’

‘Andeanna. We don’t have time for this.’

She ignores me. ‘Mikis didn’t panic. I’m sure he’d been in that sort of situation before. He knew what to do. But even so, he didn’t react as icily as you. He was
shaking. He took my hand and ran, then stopped and cursed — he’d dropped the knife and had to go back to get it. In our hotel room he downed half a bottle of vodka before the shakes
subsided. He looked like hell.’

She stops. I cross my arms, resigned, and wait for the inevitable question.

‘
You
don’t look like hell, Ed. You dispatched — yes,
dispatched
him as if you were tearing open an envelope. And now here you are, cool, composed, casually
talking about how to get rid of the body.’

‘I have to. If we don’t –’

‘Earlier,’ she barks. ‘When you were trying to convince me to leave with you. You said you could protect me.’

I nod wearily. ‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t sell computers before you were a writer, did you?’

‘No.’

She steps up close. ‘What
did
you do, Ed?’

I consider a variety of lies, then dismiss them all. It’s time for the truth. ‘I killed people,’ I tell her, then add emotionlessly, to make sure we understand each other
completely, ‘I was an assassin.’

PART THREE

NINE

I find Axel Nelke’s Skoda less than half a mile past the gate, parked in the shade of a tree. I check both sides of the street for signs of life. Observing none, I pull
on an old pair of the Turk’s driving gloves which Andeanna found for me – I don’t want to leave any fingerprints – open the driver’s door, sit in and try to start it
up, anticipating problems.

The engine kicks into life immediately. I let it turn over for a few seconds, then complete a U-turn and head for the mansion, where Andeanna is waiting with Nelke inside the front door.
He’s wrapped in dark sheets and black plastic bags. We dragged him there after I’d taken off his trousers and cleaned him up, so that his death stench wouldn’t foul up the air of
the car.

I leave the engine running – I don’t want to risk not being able to restart it – and duck inside. Andeanna is pale-faced. We haven’t said much since I told her of my true
past. I will explain everything, but not while there’s work to be done. It’s better to operate in silence and save the biography for later.

‘Where will you take him?’ Andeanna asks.

‘I haven’t decided. Any suggestions?’ I’m not being sarcastic.

She shakes her head hopelessly. ‘I don’t know.’

I flash her a confident smile, trying to put her at ease. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out.’ She nods, but there’s no warmth or thanks in the gesture, merely a cool
acknowledgement that she trusts me to handle things. ‘Can you drive?’ I ask.

She frowns. ‘Of course. I passed my test years ago.’

‘I mean can you drive
now
? Are your nerves up to it?’

‘Oh.’ She looks at the bagged body and gulps. ‘Why do you need a driver?’

‘My car,’ I explain patiently. ‘Somebody has to drive it back to the Royal Munster. If you can’t, I’ll have to call Joe.’

‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘I don’t want to involve anyone else. I’ll do it. It won’t be easy, but I’ll manage.’

‘The keys are in the ignition. There’s a car park beneath the hotel. Get a cab back here, but get it to drop you nearby, not at the house.’

‘What about the keys? How will I return them to you?’

‘Leave them under the seat. Don’t lock the door.’

‘But someone could steal it.’

A time like this and she’s worried about motor theft! ‘Let them,’ I snap. ‘It’s a rental. It doesn’t matter. And don’t forget to wipe the CCTV hard
drive when you get back.’

‘God, yes. I’d forgotten.’ She glances at the bag again. ‘Will you come back when you’re finished?’

‘You’re fucking joking, aren’t you?’ She blinks, stung by my sharp tone, and I sigh. ‘We won’t be able to see one another for a while. I doubt the Turk will
connect his guard’s disappearance with you, but let’s not take any chances. I want you to phone him when you return. Tell him Axel took a call and bailed. Act annoyed. Let the Turk
worry about it after that.’

I pick up the body by the shoulders. Andeanna takes the legs. I expect her to struggle with the weight, but she must be stronger than she looks, as she carries it with ease. We heave
Nelke’s corpse outside and into the trunk. I’m about to close it when I stop and take out the jack, the bag of tools and the spare tyre, which I lump into the back seat. This way, if I
get a puncture and have to stop by the side of the road, I needn’t open the trunk, baring the body bag to the eyes of curious passers-by.

I gaze at the mansion, wondering if I’ve forgotten anything. I quickly go over the events of the night. Phone cable in place. Floor cleaned. No garments left behind. Fingerprints wiped
clean. I could go back and deal personally with the CCTV, but I’m keen to be out of here ASAP. I’ll leave that to Andeanna, hope she doesn’t forget again or screw it up.

‘I’ll keep out of London for a few days,’ I tell her. ‘It’s best I don’t ring while I’m gone. Will you call me on my cell – my mobile –
three days from now, if you’re sure it’s safe?’

‘Yes.’

Hard to tell if she means it. ‘Andeanna.’ She looks at me, slightly unfocused. ‘I love you.’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll call me when I get back?’

‘Sure.’

‘I had to kill him. It was for us. If he –’

‘Just go, Ed. Do whatever you have to. I don’t want to discuss it. I’ll call you. Maybe not in three days, maybe not for a week, but eventually, when I’ve got my head
around what happened tonight.’

I want to kiss her, one last kiss in case things go to hell and I never see her again. But I’m sure she’d pull away from me if I tried.

I run through the checklist. Body bagged and trunked. Nelke’s personal effects in a small plastic bag on the passenger seat. His gun tucked into the waist of my trousers — I’ll
slide it under the seat and hold on to it until I’ve got rid of the body. Andeanna’s been told what to do. I’m not sure she won’t crack when I leave – she looks
composed now, but once she has time to dwell on the last hour, who knows how she’ll react – but I have to trust her.

‘See you soon,’ I mutter.