No Tomorrow (28 page)

D
aylight came. Slowly, because Victor watched every second of it. The rear bedroom window faced east and he saw the steady lightening of the sky above the distant rooftops, haloed in blue, then yellow and white. Birdsong accompanied the change of colors, then the rumble of engines starting up and working hard, left idling while heaters fought back the cold and frost. When he could see the outline of every paving slab in the backyard, he stepped away from the window. No one would attack now. Their enemies would wait for darkness or the perfect opportunity. This was neither.

They had survived the night. He lay on the floor. There was no carpet, only bare floorboards, but he was asleep in seconds.

When he woke he sat immediately upright, ears collecting sound, subconscious failing to pick out the noise of attack but detecting nothing that concerned him. He descended the stairs. He'd been asleep for just over an hour—the first rest he'd had in two days. The guilt he felt at leaving her undefended twisted his stomach.

She was asleep, curled up into a ball in a corner of the empty lounge. She looked peaceful.

He left and cleaned himself in the downstairs bathroom using only water because there were no toiletries of any kind. He stood at the sink, cupping water in his hands under the running tap, then scrubbing it under his armpits, over his chest and shoulders, along his arms and over his stomach and shoulder blades. He finished by doing the same with his face and hair. The water was so cold it made his hands turn red and brought up goose bumps over every inch of skin it touched. His lower body would have to wait for now. There were no towels and not even a roll of tissue, so he let the winter air slowly dry him.

•   •   •

Gisele awoke, groaning and squinting. Usually, she was up at six a.m. and out the front door just after seven. She was never at the law firm for less than ten hours a day. Often it was twelve. A few times a month it was more like fourteen. Everyone hated lawyers, but in Gisele's opinion they didn't get enough credit for how long and hard they had to work.

Taking the week off after the incident on the street had given Gisele a lot of free time she wasn't used to and the best way to make use of it seemed to be by sleeping. She wasn't sure whether this was working off the sleep debt of many late nights and early mornings or because of the stress of the incident. Now getting up early for work seemed like a luxury she might never experience again. She didn't need to get up but sleeping in had lost its appeal. She was anxious and too awake to be able to snooze.

She padded on the balls of her feet to reduce the
exposure to the cold floor and grimaced at the sight that greeted her in the mirror above the fireplace.

Gisele heard the sound of running water and for a horrible moment thought the worst, before realizing it only meant her companion was in the downstairs bathroom. She tensed. She didn't like the idea of the man being awake and nearby while she lay asleep and vulnerable.

•   •   •

Gisele let out a cry from the other side of the house.

Victor was out of the bathroom, through the hallway and into the front room within four seconds, gun in hand, safety off, slide jacked and ready to fire.

She was grimacing and standing on one leg while rubbing the sole of her left foot. “Splinter,” she hissed, not looking up. “People who don't have carpets should be beaten, I swear. I can't get it out. My nails are too short.”

He lowered the weapon and eased the safety back on with his thumb.

“Shit,” she said, her eyes widening as she glanced up at him. “Did you fall into a wood chipper or something?”

He didn't comment. She was referring to the numerous scars that marked his torso and arms. Some were from minor injuries that he'd had to suture himself and appeared worse than they might otherwise. Others though looked as good as it was possible for a scar to look after being stabbed or shot. Most had occurred when he was much younger, when he knew less about how to avoid being injured and when his body could more easily repair itself. He was more careful these days. He had to be. Scar tissue had only eighty percent of the strength of healthy skin. Some wounds still caused him pain in the quiet moments when his mind had nothing else to focus on.

“I have to say,” Gisele continued. “It doesn't make
me feel very protected when you're a walking manual of how not to stay safe.”

“Very funny.”

“Yes, well. I'm finding a little humor helps me forget about being hunted and all the dead people.”

He tucked the gun back into his waistband. “Try not to make any noise unless it's unavoidable.”

“I impaled my foot on a monster splinter. What else was I supposed to do? Pain is what I'd call a cause of
unavoidable
noise.” She tried to pry the splinter from her foot, hissing in pain and failing to get hold of it between her nails.

“I'll be back in a minute to pull that splinter free. I know a good trick for getting them out.”

“It's okay,” she said, grimacing. “I've got it. I can do some things by myself.”

•   •   •

When he returned he was fully dressed. He carried two disposable cups of water. He handed her one. She sat cross-legged on the floor in the lounge, back to the wall and the coat draped across her knees.

“Drink this. You have to stay hydrated.”

She took the cup and sipped from it. He stood nearby, drinking from his own, reacting to every sound of cars or people passing in the street outside.

“I've been thinking . . .” Gisele said.

“Go on.”

“Whoever this woman is, I've never met her. So I can't have done anything to her to warrant all this.”

“Directly, at least.”

She nodded to accept the point. “Therefore it has to be something I know or can do. Information I have that's a threat, perhaps.”

“Could be. But what?”

“That I don't know. If it's information that I have, I don't know what it is. I don't know what I know.”

“We need to figure it out, though.”

“Now, that I
do
know.” She sipped her water. “It can't be anything to do with Alek's business because I've never had anything to do with it. I've been in the UK for years. They must know that. So it has to be because of my job. I don't have enough of a life outside of work to have done anything to make me a target.”

“You said you're not even qualified.”

“I'm not. That's why this doesn't make sense. I haven't even taken my first case yet. I can't have crossed the wrong people, because I haven't dealt with any.”

“They must know that too.”

“Then this is all a big mistake. This woman thinks I have some knowledge I don't and wants to kill me for it. That can't be right, can it?”

She looked at him for an answer—an explanation—and with it a way out of a situation that would have seemed ludicrous a day ago. People wanting Victor dead was a common enough occurrence that the why wasn't always essential. But to the twenty-two-year-old woman before him, the why was everything. She needed to comprehend this for her sanity.

He said, “Maybe you read a document you weren't meant to or saw something you shouldn't have.”

“But what? When?”

He shook his head. “We need to work it out,” he said again.

“Then it must be a detail that out of context is completely insignificant to me.”

“But everything to her.”

Her shoulders sagged and she looked down at her hands. “I just don't know what it could be.”

He studied her and realized that the lack of understanding created hopelessness and that what she required at this moment was simple assurance. “You'll work it out,” he said. “I believe in you.”

She looked up and her eyes met with his. She gave a half smile and he knew he had held off her despair, if only for a short time.

He said, “I'm going to fetch some supplies. I won't be long.”

Her face dropped. “On your own? I don't want to be by myself.”

“I won't be long,” he said for a second time.

“Can't I come with you?”

He shook his head. “On my own I can avoid them.”

She frowned. “And I'll give us away—is that what you're saying?”

She'd replaced the fear with anger. That was good. It was a coping mechanism.

“Yes,” he said. “I can't trust you to stay hidden so you'll have to stay here.”

“Thanks for that. You're such a bastard sometimes.”

He turned from her, content that she would spend the time while he was away cursing him instead of crying and jumping at every noise outside.

H
e found shops nearby that were open. There was a row of cafés next to a corner pub and a small convenience store. He bought a sandwich and croissant in the first café and a filled bagel and piece of carrot cake in another. In the convenience store he purchased some drinks and toiletries, including hair dye and scissors. After a short walk he found a phone shop and bought two prepaid mobile phones. He was back at the house within eighteen minutes. She was sleeping in the lounge, huddled in a corner with her coat over her like a blanket. He watched her for a minute to determine if she was really asleep or just pretending to be. When he decided she was sleeping he placed all of the food down nearby because he didn't know what she would prefer, and took a bottle of water upstairs.

He gave her half an hour to sleep and returned to the room. She was awake.

He handed her a pair of scissors and a box of hair dye. She studied them in her hands, as if she had never seen such things before.

“I thought you were joking before. I didn't realize you were being serious. You honestly want me to cut my hair?”

“And color it too. It's too attention-grabbing as it is.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“If you like.”

She took the box from him and eyed the smiling brunette on the cover. “Can't I go blond instead? It'll suit my skin tone better.”

“The store didn't have a lot of choice, I'm afraid. The main thing is for you to blend in as much as possible. We don't want you attracting attention.”

“Half the women in this town dye their hair blond.”

“Please just do it.”

Gisele sighed and looked at the scissors again. “Do you know how to cut hair?”

He shook his head.

She fed her fingers into the scissors and snipped the air a few times. “Okay. Fine. I'll dye and I'll cut it so it's just below my ears.”

“Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me,” she said, sighing. “I should be thanking you, shouldn't I? You want me to cut my hair in an effort to help me. I wouldn't have even thought about doing it.”

He considered this, and nodded.

•   •   •

When she had finished he stood examining the results for a long time. Gisele didn't like such scrutiny from anyone, least of all him. The dye had colored her hair to a mid-brown and she had managed to cut a few inches from the length so the ends brushed against her jaw.

“Looks good,” he said.

“Thanks.” She wasn't sure she believed him. “I was right, though; it doesn't suit my skin tone.”

“That helps us. The less you look like you, the better.”

“I'll have to take your word for that.” She paused, then added, “What about clothes? We should get some different ones, don't you think? Maybe some new glasses too.”

“That's smart. That's a good idea.”

She smiled for a second, buoyed by the praise. She studied him. “You were already planning that, weren't you?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated, then said, “You're not a bodyguard, are you?”

“I said at the start I'm not.”

“You're not a gangster either.”

“I never claimed to be.”

“So,” she said, “what are you?”

“If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.”

“Why don't you try me?”

His black eyes locked onto hers, studying her gaze, reading her thoughts. He gave a little nod of understanding and said, “Why are you asking when you already know?”

“I should have known I wouldn't be able to hide it from you.”

“You should have,” he said, eyes unblinking. “That kind of knowledge is very dangerous.”

“Not to me,” Gisele was quick to reply. “Not when you swore to protect me.”

“From the people hunting you. I never said anything about myself.”

“You can't fool me any more than I can fool you. If I had a gun to your head and my finger on the trigger you still wouldn't harm me. I don't understand why that is. It makes no sense at all to me. You say it's because you knew
my mother, but that's not enough. It doesn't matter if it makes sense to me, though, does it? All that matters is it makes sense to you.”

He stood still for a moment and doubt crept up Gisele's spine as she feared she had misjudged how deep his loyalty ran. But he blinked and turned away.

“How did you know?” he asked.

“When I was younger I overheard Alek on the phone, threatening someone with a
ubiytsa
who would do anything for him. I didn't know what it meant at the time as my Russian wasn't that good then. I haven't thought about it since. I've remembered it only now. It means ‘assassin,' doesn't it?”

He didn't try to pretend otherwise. “What he said was untrue. I wouldn't do anything for him.”

“I know. I can tell. But he wanted whoever was on the phone to think that.”

He turned back. “Don't be under any false impressions about who I am, Gisele. I said before that I deserve your sympathy even less than your father's men. I meant it.”

She didn't respond for a moment. When she spoke, there was a bitterness in her voice. “Don't worry, I know exactly what kind of a man you are. You're helping me now, but you could just as easily be one of the men hunting me, couldn't you?”

He didn't answer.

“Only you're not. You're protecting me, and for that reason I can fool myself enough to believe that you're not entirely awful, even if you don't believe it yourself.”

He didn't respond to that either.

“Have you been through this before?”

“Through what?”

“Protecting someone. You seem to know a lot about it.”

“I told you that I know about personal security. It comes with the job.”

“That's not answering my question.”

He looked at her with his standard stone-faced expression, but she thought she detected something in his eyes—like he was fighting to maintain the facade.

Gisele said, “She . . . she didn't make it, did she?”

He swallowed and exhaled and she saw that for the briefest moment he considered lying. But he told her the truth. “No, she didn't.”

“What happened?”

“It's complicated. We were helping each other. We were under threat. People wanted us both dead. It was my fault. I left her alone when it wasn't safe. I shouldn't have.” He paused and rested a hand on her shoulder. “But I'm not going to let the same happen to you, Gisele. I promise.”

She looked away and nodded. “I believe you.”