The Enemy (12 page)

He’d slept fully dressed, as always, and back in the bedroom he stripped off his trousers and shirt. He did a workout and then ran a bath. The shower looked particularly appealing but he resisted its pull. With his head under the stream of pressurised water, it wouldn’t take
an expert to break into his room without him knowing about it. Only in the safety of his own house had he allowed himself the pleasure of a shower.

When the tub was almost full, he climbed in. The water was near scalding and just how he liked it. He lowered himself slowly until only his head and knees were protruding from the water. Unusually, the taps faced away from the door so he could bathe without stainless steel jabbing into him. He allowed himself half an hour, which wasn’t tactically shrewd, but he needed the bath’s help to relax his mind. The last ten days had been busy. Two contracts fulfilled with a gunfight in between. And people who worked nine-to-five claimed to have it tough.

He knew he had little justification to complain, however. No one had forced him into the life he led. He didn’t like to think about the past, but he knew he’d taken all the steps towards who he was today willingly, even if at the time he didn’t know in which direction those steps would eventually lead him. It was what he was good at, what he’d always been good at. From the fox to his first confirmed enemy kill to Farkas.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head under the water, but limited this luxury to no more than thirty divine seconds. He remembered something an associate had once told him:
If you don’t like it, stop doing it
. A simple statement, but true all the same. He knew it would be easier if he liked it, a lot easier, but the problem was he didn’t dislike it either. The fact the people he killed were even more execrable than himself made little difference.

He raised his head out of the water after twenty-three seconds. The relaxing effect of the bath disappeared. He felt agitated, restless. The price of thinking too much. Water splashed on the floor as he climbed out.

Later, he ate a high-protein, high-carbohydrate meal of trout and speckknödel dumplings at a nearby restaurant. He sat at a corner table, alone. The food was good but he cared more about the nutrients. The waiter, though probably no older than Victor, looked tired and old. Victor left him a considerable tip.

He had a couple of hours to kill and so explored central Linz. He visited the Lentos Museum of Art, the Castle Museum, and the seventeenth-century
Church of Saint Ignatius with its bizarre choir stalls intricately carved with frightful, almost demonic figures. As the sun set, a pleasure boat ride along the Danube let him relax without constantly looking out for surveillance, before he disembarked and walked to the Hauptplatz at the heart of the old city. Tall baroque buildings surrounded the grand square, and Victor glided through the crowd to the Trinity Column at its centre.

Even if he hadn’t known exactly where to meet her, he could have used the looks and stares of the men in the square to triangulate her position. She didn’t see him approach, but few people ever did.

Victor took her wrist and she spun to face him, her surprise quickly replaced by a smile in turn quickly replaced by a kiss as she threw her arms around him.

It was dark in his hotel room. Victor lay naked on the bed. The sheets beneath him were crumpled, half on the floor. In front of the bed, a woman, bending over, retrieved her clothes from around the bed. Victor watched her, enjoying the spectacle created by her long, smooth legs and the thong that left her tanned ass cheeks exposed.

Adrianna was Swiss but born in England and spoke with the cultured accent of a British aristocrat. He knew her well enough to know she wasn’t an assassin or a cop or an agent of some intelligence service. He could relax in her company – which was an impossibility with someone he’d only just met. Victor didn’t trust anyone, but Adrianna was one of the very few people he didn’t completely distrust.

‘You shouldn’t bend over like that,’ he said. ‘It puts strain on your lower lumbar muscles. Bend with your knees instead, you’ll get a squat out of it too when you stand. Good for your thighs.’

‘Emmanuel, you are
full
of useless information.’ She looked back at him. ‘Turn a light on, please. I can’t see.’

‘There’s plenty of light.’

‘For you maybe. But I hate carrots.’

He said, ‘That’s not the way it works,’ and reached across the bed and switched on the second lamp. It had been repositioned so it wouldn’t cast shadows over the window.

‘Is that better?’

‘Much better, thank you.’ She found what she was looking for and stood up. ‘Bet you’ve had those blinds closed all day, haven’t you?’ He didn’t answer. ‘No wonder you’re so pale.’

He went to take a sip of his Scotch but found the glass empty. He watched Adrianna hook her bra and adjust her breasts so they sat correctly. She took a small brush from a snakeskin handbag and began running it through her hair. She could go from sex-messed to sophisticated businesswoman in under two minutes. She told Victor it was an art.

Adrianna always refused to tell him her age and when asked would simply answer, ‘Old enough.’ He didn’t tell her he knew she had just turned thirty, had a master’s degree in History from Cambridge, that both her parents were dead and her brother was living in America. He also knew that she worried about the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and that her hips were too big, but to Victor she was as close to perfect as anyone was ever likely to be. She never believed him when he told her she was beautiful.

She had an apartment in Geneva and one in London. He had been through every inch of both, though she had never invited him to either. The bugs he had planted were without invite as well. When they had first met in a Geneva bar he had shadowed her for a week before calling her number. He’d continued to shadow her on occasions in the following months. There had been nothing to be suspicious of. Which had surprised him. Eventually he had removed the bugs as an undisclosed courtesy. After all, he was a gentleman.

He poured himself a large measure of Chivas Regal. It was one of his preferred brands. A blend, but it trumped almost every other Scotch. Victor often found single malts to be overrated.

She laughed.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I can tell you missed me.’

‘Why’s that?’

She held up a cream silk blouse and cast him a sly smile. ‘It’s torn.’

‘You look better without it.’

She made a face and said, ‘Hmm.’ She slipped the ripped blouse on and buttoned it up as far as it would go. She huffed, pushing her fingers
through the holes so Victor could see the top three buttons were missing.

He shrugged. ‘I’ll find them and put them aside.’

‘Throw them away, I don’t sew.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘Both.’

‘Okay, I’ll buy you a new one.’

‘It’s last season’s,’ she said, pouting. ‘You won’t be able to get it any more.’

He sat up straighter. ‘Then I’ll have to buy you two others from this season, won’t I?’

She grinned.

‘How about I take you for a late dinner?’

She zipped up her skirt and tucked the blouse in. ‘I’d love to, but I really can’t. Business to take care of.’

‘You work too hard.’

‘Need to pay the bills.’ She sat on the end of the bed and bounced up and down a little, as much as the bed would allow. ‘It’s hard as concrete. You should complain.’

‘I like it.’

‘I’m amazed you get any sleep.’ She put her shoes on, then was still for a moment, she spoke softly. ‘Do you realise this is the first time I’ve seen you in over half a year?’ She paused. ‘I was afraid you were never going to call me again.’

He didn’t look at her. ‘I’ve been busy.’

She glanced back at him. ‘Work?’ When he nodded, she said, ‘You work too hard.’

‘Need to pay the bills.’

She smiled and then said, ‘I always wonder what it is you do.’

‘No shop talk, remember?’

Adrianna showed her palms. ‘I know, Emmanuel, I know. I just get curious about you. That is allowed, isn’t it? I have this fantasy where you’re like a secret agent.’

‘You think I’m a spy?’

She smiled shyly. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? It’s because of your scars, I guess.’

‘I was in the army,’ he explained.

‘I know. As I said, it’s just a fantasy. I bet you do something really boring, like a banker or stockbroker.’ She paused and smiled. ‘I know, you’re an accountant, aren’t you?’

‘Actually,’ he said with a raised eyebrow, ‘I’m a professional assassin.’

She burst out laughing. ‘You can be so funny when you want to be.’

‘No, I’m serious,’ he said, sounding anything but. ‘I just blew up a gangster with a bomb hidden in his toilet.’

Adrianna laughed harder. She put a hand to her chest. ‘Stop it, please. You’re going to kill me.’

‘Only if you pay me a lot of money.’

He set his hands behind his head and Adrianna’s laugh eventually became a smile as she took control of herself.

She examined him and said, ‘You’ve put on a bit of weight. Muscle, I mean.’

He nodded. He’d always favoured speed over strength, but a recent and very painful encounter had convinced him that a little extra power could be useful.

‘I’ve put some weight on too.’ She pinched the skin of her stomach and grunted. ‘But it’s all blubber.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘You look great, better even.’

‘You are a liar, Emmanuel.’

‘Why do you always say that?’

‘Because I know you.’ Her hand drifted to his outstretched leg and gently rubbed his calf. Her voice was quiet. ‘You were different this time.’

‘How do you mean?’

She shrugged and sighed. ‘Not bad,’ she assured. ‘I don’t know, just … different.’

‘I’ve a lot on my mind.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘I thought you had to go.’

‘I do. But you can call me later, you know, if you want.’

‘Sure,’ he said and took a large swallow of whisky.

Adrianna gave his leg a squeeze and with a big exhale pushed herself
off the bed. She pulled down the hem of her skirt and combed her hair with her fingers in front of the sideboard mirror.

‘On the side,’ he stated. ‘Under the newspaper.’

Adrianna turned to acknowledge him and slid the envelope out from under the paper. She placed it in her handbag.

He watched her. ‘Aren’t you going to count it?’

‘I don’t know why you always ask that. We both know I don’t need to.’

‘You’re too trusting.’

She smiled a little. ‘Why don’t you ever ask me out? I mean on a proper date. Not like this.’

‘You’d say no, and we have a good arrangement. Why complicate it?’ He reached for his wallet. ‘Let me give you something so you can get a couple of new blouses.’

‘That’s okay,’ she sighed. ‘It wasn’t as expensive as it looks. And besides,’ she took hold of her blouse’s collar in both hands and opened it up, exposing her elbow-enhanced cleavage visible now there weren’t enough buttons to cover it, ‘I think it looks better like this anyway.’

After bathing and dressing in clean clothes Victor sat on the end of the bed, powered on his new laptop, checked his email to get the latest number, and used VoIP to call his nameless employer.

‘Excellent work in Berlin,’ were the first words Victor heard.

He didn’t respond.

His employer said, ‘Wasn’t sure if you’d manage to pull it off without anyone else getting caught in the net, so to speak.’

‘My instructions were to avoid collateral damage.’

‘Don’t think I don’t get that it was a tall ask when using a bomb. So thank you.’

Victor remained silent. He stood and moved to the window. He used a finger to edge open the drapes a crack. He looked down on the street outside.

‘Next dossier isn’t ready for you just yet,’ his employer explained. ‘Details are still being verified, you know the sort of thing. Don’t want to send you in without the full facts.’

‘Perish the thought.’

‘Exactly. So stand down while we’re waiting. Unwind and have a little fun.’

‘That’s what I’m doing.’

‘Good for you,’ the voice responded, ‘but don’t go too wild. I need you ready to go at the drop of a hat.’

‘I’m always ready.’

‘Which is exactly what I want to hear. And anyway, you should be happy.’

‘Why’s that?’ Victor asked.

‘Because we’re halfway there, my man. Two down, and only two to go. Then you’re a free man again.’

After a pause, Victor asked, ‘How long before you’ll have the third contract ready?’

‘Soon,’ the voice replied. ‘Very soon.’

Beirut, Lebanon

The girl beneath Baraa Ariff was nineteen. Spanish. She had long wavy black hair that cascaded to her shoulders, flawless golden brown skin over a body that was slim yet curvaceous and just the way Ariff liked it. She also didn’t talk too much, which was another attractive quality the Egyptian arms dealer was particularly fond of.

He couldn’t stand women who tried to engage him in conversation or had the arrogance to dare ask him questions. If it wasn’t so offensive, it would be almost laughable. Ariff considered few men his equal and no woman alive had yet earned his respect. They were either toys for his amusement or to carry and raise his children. Never both. A mother should be too busy looking after the offspring to have time to waste speaking to him and a vagina had no need of vocal cords.

Fortunately, he was wealthy enough not to have to deal with the opposite sex unless he wanted to. Since he lived with his family he had to spend more time in the company of his wife than he would have liked, but she had learned not to speak to him unless absolutely necessary. His daughters were different though; they were three heavenly creations not yet tainted by womanhood. If it were possible, Ariff would keep them that way forever.

The girl grunted. She couldn’t speak Arabic and he didn’t know a word of Spanish, so that all but eliminated the talking problem. A few cries when he used her body were thankfully as much communication as he had to endure on a typical visit. Today was even better than normal – the girl barely moaned as he moved himself on top of her.