‘What happened to their fingers?’ Astrid asked no one in particular, but Agent Lincoln replied.
‘All the victims are missing theirs, sliced off below the knuckles. Somebody is collecting trophies.’
He stared at Astrid as if she’d reach into her jacket and throw those fleshy digits onto the table like cadaverous jacks in a game of death the participants had already lost.
Astrid peered at her nails. ‘How careless of them.’
‘You’ve worked some serial killer cases for the Agency over the years, isn’t that right?’
She ignored Lincoln’s question. Lethargy raced up her spine for an assault on the rear of her head. She fought off its pernicious tendrils, straightened her back, and shook the stupor from her mind.
‘I like my fingers delicate and warm, ready to stray wherever I command them to.’ Astrid forced a smile and waited for them to speak.
Davis pulled her shoulders up and pushed her chest out. ‘We have the evidence, Snow.’
‘Everything you have is circumstantial.’ Astrid spoke with a confidence she didn’t possess. Davis nodded at something behind her, and Astrid turned to see the doors open as four large boards were wheeled into the room. She gazed into the photos and recognised an artist at work, but this one possessed a fearful and malevolent talent which burnt into her retinas. ‘And it had been such a glorious holiday,’ she said as she stared at the images.
And the victims peered back at her.
An eternity of silence oppressed her. Staring into dead faces was nothing new to Astrid. She’d gazed into cold flesh before, yet these photographs made her uneasy. The fathomless depths of their suffering poured out of each digital pixel.
The victims were barely recognisable from the damage the strangulation had caused: eyeballs extended, filled with blood as if the pressure around the throat had forced them to search for oxygen; the skin stretched and possessed of a dreadful rainbow of unhealthy colours. Vivid purple and red bruising started on the neck, and then spread to cover the rest of the face.
We might be dead, they said to her, but a worse fate awaits you.
Astrid wasn’t sure what she felt, but it was unpleasant. As the others in the room muttered behind her, a hideous thought planted its claws into her head: what if this was Olivia she was staring at? What would she feel then?
One by one, the photographs on the boards transformed into her niece, Olivia’s delicate features devoid of the innocence and vivacity she’d witnessed in the park: there was only pain and death now. It was a fiction she saw, but it didn’t make it any less raw, any less of a nightmare. The images were punches in her gut, hitting hard and fast, so they stole the air from her lungs. As she struggled for breath, they landed again, resurrecting long-buried memories of her childhood, of her family, of her father. As the images returned to normal, all Astrid thought about was Olivia in the arms of her grandfather. She wanted to vomit as she turned to her accusers, a newfound sense of urgency searing into her brain.
‘Agent Lee, will you inform Snow what we’ve gathered so far?’ Davis asked her underling. Lee’s eyes sparkled as she played with the crucifix in one hand and recited from memory.
‘Four employees of the Agency killed in the same manner; the bodies disposed of the same way in four different European cities around the same time as Snow visited them. GPS tracking on the murdered agents phones shows they stayed at the same places Snow did. All the agents had worked with Snow, and all were involved in serious incidents with her.’
Davis smiled at her. ‘What do you say to that, Snow?’
The invisible fingers inside her guts squeezed hard enough for her to double up, but she fought the temptation.
‘You can’t tie any of this to me.’
‘What did you do during your three days in Prague?’ Agent Lincoln prodded at his screen again. Astrid gave them her best bored expression, pursed her lips and glanced at the ceiling.
‘I was the perfect tourist.’
It seemed a lifetime ago, even though it was only two weeks. Astrid loved the place, all of its long and winding narrow streets with surprises everywhere she went.
‘You never met with Agent Dark while you were in Prague?’ Lee was polite while Lincoln glared at Astrid.
‘I haven’t seen or spoken to Michelle in three years.’
‘You recommended Agent Dark be removed from active duty because of the mistake she made during your last assignment?’ Ice dripped from Davis’s voice.
‘She was a danger to everybody, including herself. Director Cross saw that and did the right thing.’
Lincoln changed the page on his screen and pulled up Agent Dark’s personnel file.
‘She was placed in a basement office somewhere in northern Scotland, typing out transcripts from serial killers and child murderers. Five days a week, forty-six weeks of the year for five straight years.’
‘Sounds like she found her calling,’ Astrid said with no pleasure.
‘Being an agent was the only thing Michelle desired. Not only did you take that from her, but she also ended up in a living hell.’
Anger bubbled inside Agent Lincoln’s voice: this was personal for him.
‘What was Michelle to you, Lincoln?’
He didn’t bother with her question and repeated the one Lee asked earlier.
‘Are you sure you never met with Agent Dark while you were in Prague?’
‘No,’ Astrid replied.
‘Are you sure?’
‘One hundred per cent.’
‘You never met her in the city and went to her hotel?’
He was the proverbial dog with a bone, gnawing at her words until she faltered, and he’d bury her somewhere she’d never be found.
‘No.’
‘Then how do you explain this?’
Lincoln pushed the digital screen towards Astrid, who stared at an image of an empty glass sitting on a stand in a cheap-looking hotel room.
‘It’s a glass; even you could work that out.’
She gazed straight into Lincoln’s lifeless eyes. He paused before replying, waiting to deliver the coup de grace.
‘It’s a glass with your fingerprints on it; a glass with your DNA inside it. Found in Agent Dark’s hotel room. Even though you claim not to have seen her while you were in Prague.’ If he could have folded the digital screen in half and written CASE CLOSED on top of it, he would have.
‘I had breakfast at the same joint every morning. Somebody took it and planted it in the room.’ Someone had framed her, and she didn’t know why. The three opposite didn’t appear to care, getting up to leave. ‘Can I call my lawyer?’
Finally, there was a crack in the director’s face, the sharp corners of her mouth discovering the strength to push upwards into a grin resembling a seaside clown.
‘You’ve forgotten where you are, Snow. This is the Agency, remember? I’ll leave you with Agent Lee to complete the custodial process.’
Director Davis didn’t give Astrid another thought or look, heading for the exit while the others gathered their information. Agent Lincoln’s shrewd gaze fixed upon her, a staccato cough interrupting his grin as he followed his leader. Agent Lee stared at the table and avoided Astrid’s gaze.
‘They left me with the rookie?’ Astrid said after a minute’s silence.
‘I’m no rookie.’ Her eyes switched from curious to indignant in an instant, her cheeks turning pink.
‘How long have you been an agent?’ Astrid forced her mind to work against the lassitude, searching for any information to help her escape from her impending fate.
‘Six months.’
‘That makes you a rookie.’
Lee put her hands on the tablet and gripped it, summoning some steel into her voice as she spoke. ‘I did five years in the military before coming here. I’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe.’
Something flashed beneath the surface of her professional expression, something hidden and secret, which Astrid found intriguing. She tried to identify what it was, but it vanished as soon as it appeared.
‘See, more rookie mistakes. You’ve given me information about you I didn’t have.’
‘It won’t help you with your situation.’
‘You don’t know that. Everything you give away, no matter how small, can be used against you. What you’ve told me, I’ll add it to all the other observations I’ve made since you entered this room.’
Astrid’s lethargy vanished as soon as her brain started worked working overtime. They’d decided on her guilt. They’d isolate her for a while, seeking a confession, before transporting her to a secure unit somewhere else. It meant she still had time to devise an escape from the building.
‘What observations have you made?’
‘You joined the Agency from the military. It was obvious before you blurted it out; from the way you carry yourself. Rigid devotion to commands drives you forward.’ Astrid’s eyes were a mischievous twinkle, her voice a subtle hint of teasing. Agent Lee didn’t respond, so Astrid continued. ‘You worked as an investigator at the end of your time in the military, the last twelve months at least. You joined when you were eighteen, left at twenty-three. I’d guess your age now to be twenty-five or six, let’s say twenty-five. You’ve been with the Agency for six months, so you had at least eighteen months between leaving the military to here. What were you doing?’ Astrid didn’t wait for her to respond.
‘You did something simple, something menial where you wouldn’t have to take orders, needing a break from such devotion. You needed time to reassess your life. I’d guess you were in the army, and something happened which forced you to leave a career you loved. Then, after eighteen months of recovery, you got bored and applied to the Agency, who snapped up someone with all your talents in a heartbeat.’
She expected Agent Lee to blow a gasket. Instead, she was a blank wall, as if she’d transformed into a younger, more human version of Director Davis. Then she composed herself.
‘I’ve read all your case files, seen all the videos and spoken to most of your colleagues. You’re an inspiration to a lot of us here.’ It wasn’t what Astrid expected to hear.
‘Us?’
‘You inspire others in the Agency. We admire you. Nobody cried when they found Andrews’s body.’
Astrid scrutinised her. Lee had volunteered a lot of information, something agents were trained not to do, complimenting Astrid when she knew it would be on the cameras. The contradictions intrigued her.
Was it because she’s such a rookie, or was it all planned to drip-feed enough details to gain my confidence? Was the crucifix an added brief touch of backstory and character detail?
‘You admire me?’ It was a novel experience for Astrid.
‘It’s true. And I’m not the only one.’
‘Let’s stick with you for now.’ Astrid warmed to her task. Lee should have taken her from the room to her incarceration, but she’d delayed it. And there was no sign of security coming to drag her away. She could fight back, but it would only delay the inevitable; Davis had judged and sentenced her already. The only escape for Astrid was if she could think her way out of this predicament. ‘How deep are your religious beliefs?’ Astrid had plenty of experience with fundamentalists.
‘What do you mean?’ The younger woman’s hands crawled towards her neck, before dropping to her sides again.
‘Who comes first, God or the Agency?’
‘Why should they be exclusive?’
Smart, to dodge the question with another one: do you care this is being recorded?
‘You’ve read my files, so you know about the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed. How does that sit with your religious beliefs?’
‘There are plenty of passages in the Bible which speak about smiting your enemies.’ Astrid wouldn’t have guessed she was dealing with a fundamentalist at the start of the night, but it was becoming apparent the two women existed at moral opposites. ‘You worked for the Agency, and the Agency exists for the good of the nation.’
Astrid burst out laughing, a loud untamed sound rising from the bottom of her belly and erupting from her throat like Vesuvius on fire.
‘What’s your first name?’
Agent Lee hesitated, glancing up at the hidden cameras.
Is that for my benefit or theirs?
‘Laurel.’
Astrid laughed again. ‘Your parents named you Laurel Lee? They must have been hippies. Don’t your religious beliefs contradict your work for the Agency?’
‘I make no judgements on how others live their lives, as long as nobody gets hurt. If an innocent person is injured, then the perpetrator deserves all the justice they get.’ Absolute conviction and moral certainty emanated from her words. She grew in confidence with each passing second.
‘Then you’re living in a world of personal contradictions which will eventually force your mind into places it doesn’t want to go.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You work for an organisation which hurts people by design. You say you admire me, yet you know I’ve killed for this job. You say you admire me, yet here I sit accused of four murders. How do you balance those things? How do you deal with the dichotomy of your convictions opposing your daily duties?’
‘Life is full of contradictions, Snow. All we do is handle them and their consequences to the best of our abilities.’
Astrid placed her hands together and grinned at Agent Lee.
‘You’re wasted working for the Agency; you should get out while you can.’ Astrid finished the last of the water, her mind occupying two unique places. One focused on Lee, the other more critical part contemplated how she’d deal with her immediate future. ‘What’s next for us?’
Agent Lee stood, clasped the digital computer under her arm, and spoke with zero emotion. ‘It’s time for your isolation.’
I’d lived in isolation for most of my life. Not the isolation born of solitary pursuits, but of being invisible when surrounded by others. I hated being invisible, being ignored. I didn’t even have enough imagination to have imaginary friends. Now it was a blessing in disguise, and I love my masks.
It was different for her, always the brightest star in every firmament. When she walked into the room, all eyes were pulled from their orbit and circled her. I pretended not to notice or care, but I did; I always did. She illuminated the greatest darkness while I was the smallest pinpoint hidden away in the vast distance of space, at the furthest edge of existence. How could I not be jealous?
And I hated being jealous. In those moments, when I was covetous and resentful, I transformed into my father. Part of me had always wanted to feel sorry for him, for what he became; for if my childhood made me what I am, then surely his upbringing did the same to him. Perhaps it was the imprint which forged his personality and stamped behaviour into him that he could never break away from.
My freedom instilled in me a determination to pursue a campaign of unbridled ferocity, to seek pleasure wherever it lay. No matter the negative consequences on others. This was the true realisation of my existence: to find fulfilment regardless of cause and effect.