It’s a hot summer’s day and Neva is wearing shorts and a strappy top. Big sunglasses hide her face and a floppy hat covers her hair. She’s carrying a backpack filled with her essentials and looks every bit like she belongs in Brussels as she rides around the streets on a bicycle.
As Elbakitten had promised, Fracks was at the coffee shop like clockwork every day and Neva is waiting for him to come outside.
He has his coffee and pastry, then Fracks saunters down the street, relaxed and confident. He doesn’t believe anyone knows he’s here. But the mistake he made first was transferring money from his personal accounts into the small local branch of KBC. All it took to find him afterwards was Elbakitten searching street camera footage back to the day when Fracks had first entered the bank to set the transaction in motion. He’d had to use his real I.D. in order to access his accounts in England, but the man had become complacent over the last two months. Elbakitten had found him several times on different cameras since then, and often at the same time in the same district. This information she’d sent to Neva, and as it had proved valid, Neva planned to use Elbakitten more. Her fees were reasonable too.
Neva focuses on Fracks as he approaches a small bookshop. After going in and browsing, he comes out half an hour later with a bag of books in hand. Neva doesn’t move from her spot until Fracks is four hundred yards down the road, then she gets on the bike and follows. Fracks makes a turn at a side street ahead. When Neva reaches the corner of the street, she sees Fracks coming out of a bar, holding a bottle of wine he’s just purchased.
A few feet away he enters an apartment building.
Neva rides the bike past the building and then parks and locks it up at the end of the road. Fracks is inside and climbing the stairs to his own apartment when Neva walks back. She studies the building. Then she returns to her bike and takes off again for a ride.
By late afternoon, Neva returns to Fracks’s building. After remotely monitoring CCTV nearby, she knows that Fracks hasn’t left. At the door she reads the names on the residents’ doorbells. The only one not listed is on the top floor. From the research she’s done, she knows that this one is a studio apartment. She doesn’t press the bell for this flat, instead she calls one of the others and waits for a response.
‘Hallo?’ says a voice in Dutch.
‘Ik heb een pakket bezorgen,’ Neva says in a bored tone in response. I have a parcel to deliver.
‘I’m not expecting a parcel,’ the occupant replies.
‘It’s for your neighbour,’ Neva responds. ‘They didn’t answer and I want to leave it by their door.’
‘Which one?’ asks the woman on the other end.
Neva says it’s the top floor.
‘Ah. Him! Yes, he’ll be drunk by now!’
The door buzzer sounds and allows her access. Neva never takes for granted the help of nosey neighbours, but sometimes their information is invaluable. She’d seen the wine, but this woman must have noticed Fracks’ return and routine daily. It also means the woman is very observant, which could be a problem for her too.
Neva takes a small parcel out of her holdall and walks into the hallway. The apartment block is basic with no main reception, Neva notes that the stairs go all the way up to the top floor in a spiral. Holding the fake delivery package in her hand, she begins to walk upstairs. On the second floor a woman is standing by her door waiting for her.
‘You the delivery girl?’ she asks.
Neva nods, ‘Dank u, I have to get this delivered today or they won’t pay me!’
The exchange is made in Dutch and the woman nods and goes back inside her own apartment, satisfied that she hasn’t let a thief inside. Neva passes by and heads up the next flight of stairs.
When she reaches the top level, she stuffs the parcel back inside her backpack and retrieves her Glock from the bag instead.
At the door to the studio apartment, Neva studies the lock. It’s an old mortise, incredibly easy to pick. She puts the Glock in the waistband of her shorts and takes out the lock-pick set from the front pocket of her backpack. She places the bag on the floor then presses her ear against the door.
A loud drunken snoring can be heard from within.
Neva picks the lock and she opens the door. The hinges creak, she pauses and waits, but Fracks hasn’t heard her and doesn’t wake – Neva sees him slumped and sleeping in a chair by the window, a bottle of French wine stands on the small table beside him, but even from the door she can see the bottle is empty.
She picks up her backpack and brings it inside. Then closes the door.
Fracks sleeps on, oblivious of her presence as she approaches. Neva looks down at him. She waits to see if he will wake, but Fracks is in a deep sleep and doesn’t move. Neva looks around. The studio consists of a large loft space: kitchen, living space and bedroom occupy different corners of the same room. The only separate space is the small bathroom to the left of the front door.
Neva walks over to the kitchenette and runs cold water into a jug she finds there. She goes back to Fracks and throws the water over him.
Fracks jerks awake, spluttering as he breathes in the same time the water hits him. He coughs and chokes, coming from his inebriated dreams back into reality.
‘Hello, Mr Fracks. I’m Neva,’ she says.
‘Oh my god!’ Fracks says. His ruddy face blanches white as he stares down the barrel of the Glock in her hand.
‘You’ve come to kill me…’ he whispers under his breath, and in that instant Fracks is sober again.
‘You and I are going to have a little talk,’ Neva says. ‘And if you lie to me or fail to tell me what I want to know, you are going to die.’
Fracks shivers as though Neva is already stepping across his grave. She pulls up a chair and looks directly at him.
‘Beech was very upset when they lost you,’ Fracks volunteers. ‘He always saw you as some personal achievement. Like his son Michael.’
Neva narrows her eyes and studies him.
‘It appears you know as much as Vasquez thought you did,’ Neva says. ‘Hence his people tried to find you.’
‘Did they send you?’
‘I work for myself these days,’ Neva says. ‘I’m here to find the names and addresses of the committee.’
‘I don’t know where they are exactly. I swear. Committee members move base at regular intervals…’ Fracks says. ‘Beech didn’t even know where they lived. Just areas they covered. They don’t trust each other, you see.’
‘Pick up that book,’ Neva says pointing to the book that Fracks had fallen asleep reading. She pulls a pen from the pocket of her shorts and places it on the table by the empty wine bottle. ‘Write their names and those locations in the front.’
Fracks reaches for the book and picks up the pen. His hands are trembling as he opens the cover to the front blank page. He writes:
Kritta (Berlin); Banwick (Cardiff); Subra (Jerusalem); Petters (Oslo); Conor (Edinburgh); Drake (Venice); Armin (Kabul); Stanners (Loch Lomond); Ruddy (Florence); Aelen (Belfast); Cruik (Madrid).
‘But… I heard that some of these were dead. And their locations are generic. Vasquez…’
‘What do you know about that?’ Neva says.
‘Just that Vasquez tortured some of them to find the others…’
‘Who was tortured and killed?’ Neva asks.
‘I heard Aelen and Ruddy are no longer with us…’ Fracks says.
‘You just told me that none of them know each other’s location. So, which is it Fracks? Do they, or don’t they?’
‘Some of them did, I suppose. The rumour was that Vasquez was fed information by another interested party who wanted in on the committee. Codename: Annalise,’ Fracks says. He’s breathless and scared as he speaks.
Neva leans forward at the mention of Annalise: she is of interest. The person that Michael said could be her mother. Annalise had been at the Tower Bridge Hotel when shit hit the fan a few weeks ago. Her underling and other committee member, Subra, died that day – killed by Solomon Granger after he learned she was behind the death of his lover Angela Carter.
Yes, the committee are a treacherous lot, and they’d turn on each other at any opportunity. This is proof of it. But it isn’t enough, and Neva believes that Fracks knows it. She needs everything she can get from him.
‘I know you have more,’ she says. ‘Where is Annalise based?’
‘Ah. Now she never moves…’ Fracks says. ‘And I do know that. A château in the South of France.’
‘If she never moves, then why is she safe from the others?’
‘No one will go after Annalise. They are all scared of her, and she has her own network. Beech even suspected her of being the leader of the Almunazama.’
Neva has heard the name of this cabal through various sources. They are a corporation that rivals the Network and could possibly take over their resources if the latter failed to regroup.
‘I’d heard that Subra was working with them,’ Neva says. ‘Did you know Subra killed Armin?’
‘I’d heard rumours but nothing was definite and the committee would kill her if they suspect it.’
‘Subra is dead,’ Neva says. She explains how and why.
‘Why are you sharing that with me?’ Fracks asks. He looks scared, as though he knows his number is up. ‘Look, if you’re planning to kill me… I’m willing to tell you what I know but you should understand, I went to ground because I didn’t want to be part of the Network anymore. I wanted to be free of Beech, but knew I couldn’t escape while he was alive. I took my chance when MI5 raided the house. I won’t be talking to anyone about you. I can’t or they’ll kill me for my desertion. So, you see, they’ll never know you found me unless you turn me in.’
Neva studies Fracks. He could be useful as an extra ear to the ground, but can she trust him?
‘Tell me exactly where Annalise’s château is,’ she says. ‘And everything you know about her security detail. Then perhaps we can discuss your future.’
Fracks starts talking and Neva’s trained memory retains every detail as he describes the location of Annalise’s château, in Occitanie, just outside of Toulouse.
‘She has her own vineyards,’ he says. ‘I heard Beech telling someone he’d been once. He didn’t stay in the château as even then he didn’t trust her, and he had his own security in tow. He said it was a beautiful place and a working winery that produced wine which was popular with locals and which was also exported around the world.’
‘What’s the winery called?’ Neva asks.
‘I don’t know. Or its actual address. And there are several wineries in the area. But if you go there, I’m sure you’ll pick up on which one it is.’
‘You’ve earned the right to live,’ she says stowing her Glock back in the waistband of her shorts. ‘Don’t make me regret it, as I don’t give second chances.’
Fracks nods, relieved, but his hands still shake as he holds out the book he’s written in and borrowed from the bookstore. The book will have to be paid for in full, but the price will be worth it to save his life.
Neva stands, she picks up her holdall from the doorway where she left it. She stuffs the book inside.
She smiles at Fracks. ‘Remember… I know where you live. I know who you are. I know your movements. So don’t try anything silly. We wouldn’t want the Network to find all that out, now would we…?’
She winks at Fracks, opens the door and leaves.