Casanova (29 page)

26

MONDAY, 23:00—23:10

JONATHAN PUDDLES

Jonathan Puddles ran. He ran fast. It was fear that fuelled his legs.

Xing was the scariest person he had ever met. He remembered how he felt when he had read her file, the file that Meriwether had sent. The things she had done were extraordinary, and they were just the ones VX knew about. Meriwether had included a note containing his personal assessment. It had scared Jonathan even more. Of course, he had worked with frightening people on previous occasions but none that killed with such unfeeling expertise as she did.

...None of the conventional motivating factors that one might expect applies in her case, such as greed, hatred, revenge or even love. She is void of all emotions. Remorse, doubts and fears are unknown to her. Nothing exists in which she believes and she cares for no one. Like a machine, she kills with cold efficiency...

The words of Meriwether’s assessment remained stuck in the head of Jonathan Puddles and he didn’t like them being there.

The thought that Xing might believe he had betrayed her to Missouri made him feel sick. His fear was palpable and it permeated every organ and every sinew as though it were riding around in his blood.

He cursed his bad luck. Why had this assignment come to him? He blamed proximity and his language skills. It was bad luck indeed. He cursed again.

How could anyone imagine he would pass information to a triad leader? It was a patently ridiculous notion. What reason would he have to do such a thing?

If an informant did exist then, Jonathan supposed, it was reasonable to suspect the local man; after all, he had the means and opportunity, of that, nobody could argue. Even so, to his mind it remained a ridiculous idea.

He turned onto a pedestrian side street and then stopped in a doorway. Was anybody following? He looked back. The street was quiet and empty. Old-fashioned lamps lined up to cast a pauper’s glow. They coloured the walls of the buildings yellow and gave the paving slabs a romantic sheen.

Jonathan decided to rest. The running had increased his heart rate and he wanted to allow his breathing to settle.

While he stood, his thoughts moved on to practicalities. What should he do? What was his best course of action? It was important to settle this misunderstanding and to settle it quickly.

A group of people appeared on the street. They were walking in Jonathan’s direction. The lamplight was too weak. It made him strain to see and examine each face. Relief flooded out. Xing was not among them.

This was hopeless he thought. He couldn’t carry on, worrying that Xing was coming, like a boy frightened of monsters in the dark.

Jonathan Puddles made a decision. He would call Meriwether and explain everything. Meriwether would know what to do.

‘Jemima, good afternoon, how goes the Orient?’

‘I’m sorry to trouble you, sir,’ Jemima said, still a little out of breath.

‘What’s happened?’ Meriwether asked.

‘We’ve had a misunderstanding, sir,’ Jemima replied.

‘...a misunderstanding, what kind of misunderstanding?’

‘The kind that could get a fellow killed, sir.’

‘...killed, I see. Well, you better tell me all about it,’ Meriwether said.

27

MONDAY, 23:10—24:00

Driving fast in the taxi, I neared the end of the street. It turned and opened onto a boulevard. I saw the water, dark and flat with a cold, reflective shine. Beyond, there was a distant shoreline dotted with lights that punched holes in the black night. I allowed the rolling car to stop while I checked the K106. Xing was close. A row of parked cars offered a space so I reversed in.

Outside, cool air blew off the water. I felt it on my face. While hugging the shadow from the wall I searched ahead. The lighting was poor. All I could see was a pale coloured railing and a darker balustrade guarded by a line of spaced iron posts. Something, perhaps the quietness made me pull the silenced Glock and hold it low beside my thigh. I hurried to the corner and peered ahead. Still, there was nothing. Where was she? Was anybody watching her? Perhaps I was wrong.

Across the opening, I ran diagonally into the light for a moment before the shadow covered me once more. I backed up against the wall and scanned ahead. It was then that I saw her. She was standing beyond the railing up against a wall and staring out at the water. A few people were walking past but I couldn’t see anyone who looked like they were watching her. I waited a short while longer before holstering the Glock and stepping out of the shadow. It was then that I saw the Range Rover.

The big four-by-four was black with dark windows that my eyes couldn’t penetrate. It rolled slowly on big alloy wheels from a narrow access road where the boulevard turned. The engine barely sounded but what made me stare with a combat jolt was the omission of any lights. The square front floated left as the fat tyres moved out and then back in. It stopped and I realised the driver had steered into a direct line with Xing. In that same moment the engine roared, the solid square front lifted effortlessly and the thick rubber shot it forward with venomous speed. There wasn’t enough time for anything other than a screamed warning. My voice carried all the horror that I felt. I shouted just one word: ‘Xing!’

The distance wasn’t far, probably less than my angle of sight made it appear. The acceleration devoured the space with cold efficiency. Before the vehicle blocked my view of her, I saw Xing spin on the sound of my warning and begin to adjust her body weight. Then she was gone and I watched helplessly as the Range Rover smashed into the wall. The impact was cruel. The vehicle stopped with cartoon suddenness. The noise it made was the unmistakable smack of a collision. It was the combination of smashing glass, deforming metal and shattering plastic. The square rear seemed to shudder with displeasure, shake itself and settle with what dignity remained.

I was already on the move. The silenced Glock had returned instinctively to my hand. I was half way when the Range Rover whined loudly and shot backwards in a spinning arc. I was level with the front passenger window. The streetlamp threw its yellow glow through the windscreen and inside, I recognised the two men from the boiler room in Missouri’s house. The smaller of the two was holding a gun. My Glock came up. The Range Rover braked hard and stopped. I targeted the driver. I would only have a second to take the shot before he found a gear and then sped away. My finger pressured the trigger but before I fired, the sound of another silenced Glock firing made me wait. The driver’s window smashed and I saw the man slump in his seat. I heard a female scream. The man in the passenger seat seemed to panic. It looked like he grabbed the wheel and was searching the gearlever for drive. I held my stance and targeted him but again before I could fire I heard another shot and saw his head snap back and his body slump. Again, I heard a female scream and realised the cry had come from inside the vehicle.

I hurried closer, keeping my Glock ready. My senses had heightened automatically to combat level. I realised passers-by were staring in shock. One was making a call, probably to the police. Others were fleeing in fear. I reached the front nearside with my eyes still fixed on the interior. It was then that Xing appeared from the other side coming around the rear. Her hands clasped the silenced Glock and her face was cold. Our eyes locked. I must have registered my surprise because she flashed back one of her looks. It disavowed my reaction.

‘You’re not even hurt,’ I said.

She gave me the same look again. ‘Go round to the other rear door and open it,’ she said.

I went quickly. A brief pause allowed me to peer through the smashed driver’s door window. Both men were dead. The single bullet shot each to the head had killed them outright. I reached the rear door, held my Glock ready and then pulled on the handle. At the same time, on the opposite side, Xing did the same. We both looked in with guns raised and saw curled up on the back seat someone I knew.

She was crying and shaking with the shock and fear. She had pulled her legs up in an attempt to morph with the leather seat and make herself invisible. She still had her seatbelt fastened. It was the girl from Missouri’s house, the interpreter for the now two dead men.

I realised I didn’t know her name.

I grasped her wrist and pulled. She resisted and screamed again. She was near to shocked hysteria.

‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘Do you remember?’ I holstered the Glock and tried pulling again. She resisted again.

‘Do you know her?’ Xing asked.

‘Yes, but I don’t know her name. She’s the girl from Missouri’s house, the interpreter. These two are the men.’ I motioned at the two dead men.

‘We must leave; the police will soon be here,’ Xing said, and then asked, ‘did you walk here? Did you follow me?’

‘No, I drove in Jemima’s taxi,’ I said.

‘Is he waiting in the car?’ she asked.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Where is he?’

‘I’ll explain later,’ I said.

Xing looked at the girl and levelled the Glock. ‘Shall I kill her?’ she asked in a soft voice.

I looked into Xing’s eyes. I couldn’t tell if she was serious.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Put the gun away. We’re going to take her with us.’

I used both hands to get her up but she struggled wildly and fought me with hysterical effort. I released her and she scrambled back onto the seat.

‘I’m going to get the taxi,’ I said. ‘We can transfer her easier and then get away. I will only be gone a minute. Stay here, watch her and comfort her. Try to get her talking. It’ll help to calm her down.’ I paused. ‘Don’t harm her,’ I said.

Xing’s eyes went from me to the girl and then back to me. She wanted an explanation.

‘She was in Missouri’s home. Perhaps we can use her instead of the boy,’ I said.

Xing understood immediately. ‘Hurry,’ she said and looked up and down the boulevard. ‘The police must be close.’

I sprinted to the taxi, jumped in and then raced back to the Range Rover. I stopped alongside, got out and opened the back door. What I saw surprised me. Xing was sitting on the back seat and the girl was hugging her. Xing looked uncomfortable but she was talking to the girl who had stopped crying and was shaking less.

‘Let’s go,’ I said.

In the distance came the sound of sirens.

‘Hurry, we need to leave.’

Xing coaxed the girl out of the Range Rover and slower than I would have liked got her onto the back seat of the taxi. They sat together and the girl clung to her. I shut the door, ran to the driver’s seat and then sped away. The sirens were much closer now. I headed in the opposite direction.

‘Where are we going, back to the hotel?’ Xing asked.

‘No,’ I said, ‘not the hotel.’

It was a good question. Where were we going?

‘Our rucksacks are in the boot, they know about the hotel,’ I said.

‘...who does?’

‘...Missouri,’ I said.

‘...how?’

‘...the same way he knew where to find you tonight. Someone has been following us and then telling him our location. That’s how he knew about the last hotel.’

‘...who has been following us and then telling Missouri?’

‘I don’t know for sure. It’s probably one or more of the ducklings and maybe Jemima.’

‘Jemima,’ Xing said.

I could hear in her voice that although she would like it if it were true she couldn’t really believe it. Just then, my new K106 rang. This one didn’t play “Rule, Britannia!” instead it made a caw noise like a drunken crow. I answered the call.

‘Ah, dear boy,’ said the British voice. It was Meriwether. ‘I’ve had a call from Jemima. It seems he’s a little upset over a misunderstanding.’

‘We’ve had another incident,’ I said, interrupting him. ‘Two of Missouri’s men are dead. They’re in a Range Rover, on the boulevard by the water near to the Ole London hotel. The police are probably there by now. It isn’t pretty.’

Meriwether was silent. Then he said, ‘I see, well, you are having fun.’

I said, ‘I need to get safe. I’ll call you later. We can talk about Jemima then.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Meriwether said. ‘Just one thing before you ring off. In my opinion, Jemima would never betray you to Missouri. Of course, you are the man in the field, as it were, and you have the first hand knowledge. I don’t know what evidence you have but you may need to reconsider the matter. I’m just trying to help. By the way, is Jackie all right?’

I glanced round at Xing who still had the girl pressed tightly against her. ‘She’s okay,’ I said, ‘although I don’t know how.’ Meriwether didn’t respond to that so I ended the call. I had to decide what to do and right then my options were no match even for Hobson.

I had driven onto the main road and was travelling north. The road was busy and I could hear moving sirens in the distance. I needed to get away and find a quiet place to stop where I could decide what to do. I took the exit, followed the road and continued through the smaller streets until I found a space to pullover and stop. Xing had been silent and the girl had now stopped crying. I switched off the lights but left the engine running, turned in my seat and looked at them. They both looked back with eyes that shone in the gloom. I had expected to start with Xing but as the girl was now calm and holding my gaze it was she I chose to speak to first.

‘Are you feeling better?’ I asked.

She nodded.

‘Do you know who I am?’

She nodded again. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. ‘You’re the man from the boiler room, the one who escaped.’

Her voice was soft, exactly how I remembered it. She was frightened. I glanced at Xing.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

‘Penny,’ she said. Her eyes dropped for a moment. ‘Penelope, my name is Penelope.’

‘Why were you in the house?’ I asked. ‘Do you live there?’

She nodded.

‘What’s your relationship to Jacomo Xabier Cardozo Almada?’

Her eyes shaded. ‘He’s my father,’ she said and then started to cry. Xing pulled her closer.

I paused the questioning and moved on to Xing. We held each other’s eyes. She knew what my first question was without me needing to ask it.

‘When you shouted my name, I heard the danger in your voice. I spun round, saw the Range Rover and had a second to react. There wasn’t enough time to go left or right so I had to choose up or down and I chose down. Gravity helped and so did the high ground clearance of the four-by-four. I threw myself down, curled into a ball and pressed myself into the ground and against the wall. I was just fast enough. When it hit I was lucky. The wheels went either side of me, and the bumper went over the top. I quickly scrambled out and then shot them both through the side window.’