‘How much for him to betray you instead?’
That was her father’s killer line. The full meaning and repercussions behind his words were huge, and even with the balaclava on, Leia thought she could see the resolve slipping from the woman’s face. Because through the course of their captivity, there were times when they’d been left alone with the man too. And each time Leia’s father had worked the same way, playing to his emotions. Playing in turn to their fear, their paranoia, and their greed. In a strange way, Leia had never admired her father so much, even despite the fact that she was in pieces about her mother’s death, and in abject fear that she’d never leave this place alive.
The question still hung in the air when the man strode back into the room, two brown paper bags in his hand. He slapped the food down onto the table and looked at his accomplice – his lover – then over to Leia and her father. He paused, his agitation clear in his body language.
‘What were you talking about?’ he said to the woman.
‘Nothing.’
The man looked over to Leia and her father.
‘That’s not quite true, is it?’ her father said.
‘What’s he talking about?’ The man faced the woman, who stood straight now. One hand only inches from the gun in the waist of her jeans. The man was the same.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ the woman said. ‘He’s trying to cause problems. As always.’
‘No, that’s not it,’ Leia’s father said. ‘Not problems. Solutions. It’s in your hands now.’
Leia could hardly breathe. The tension was choking.
‘Did you reach Remi?’ the woman asked.
The man didn’t answer straight away. That said a lot.
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘And he’s coming in half an hour. We’re going to get our money. And we’re going to get out of here.’
He spoke with conviction, but Leia somehow knew his words were an absolute lie.
* * *
Devereaux did exactly what she was told. After receiving the text message from Paulo she headed straight back to her hotel room. In the closet bathroom there she used a pair of tweezers to pull the slug from her thigh and stitched the wound with a needle and thread and nothing to kill the pain but a pack of painkillers and a bottle of cheap brandy she’d bought from a nearby convenience store.
Still, her whole leg remained on fire, her body ached. She wanted nothing more than to sleep for hours, perhaps days, until she felt better. Instead, she sat up, thinking.
She’d been working for Kyri and Paulo for only a few days. In that time she’d lost a finger and been shot in the thigh. And she was getting paid nothing for any of this. How much more would she put up with?
She’d tried her hardest to find out more about both Paulo and Kyri. After all, sooner or later – hopefully sooner – she’d be turning the tables on them and she’d have to know who she was dealing with. Despite her efforts, she’d found out relatively little about the duo. It wasn’t just Kyri and Paulo that Devereaux wanted to find out more about, though. Thus far she’d kept a relatively closed mind to the lives of the targets she’d been given. It didn’t matter to Devereaux who they were, or why Kyri wanted them dead. She’d long ago learned to live and work that way. Emotion and reason didn’t come into what she did. But the failed attempt on Penny Diaz had given her pause for thought because she very much did not like how close she’d come to being shot dead by the two ambushers.
Who were they? And why had they been protecting Diaz?
The more she thought about it, the more she seriously contemplated cutting her losses, skipping town, and figuring a way to end all this by ending Kyri and Paulo.
Despite her reservations, she remained in her hotel room, and a little after 11 p.m., her phone pinged.
Her heart thudded a little harder as she picked up the phone and scanned over the message.
The walk to the bar was painful. It’d been hard enough heading back to the hotel earlier before she’d pulled the bullet out and stitched and dressed the wound, but in two-inch heels, the pain that shot up through her leg each time she put her foot down made her head pound, even with a cocktail of painkillers and alcohol inside her. Still, she made it to the bar in twenty-five minutes.
She wore the same skin-tight black dress she’d had on in the bar in Frankfurt, smartening the look up just a little through the addition of classy-looking though cheap jewelry, and by putting on her short blonde, ready-styled wig that she knew always drew attention. She was trying her best not to think about how tonight might end, given the calamity in the park, though at least Paulo had asked to meet in a public place. That was a good start. And if he did turn on her, she’d be ready.
She was pleasantly surprised when she stepped inside the bar to see it was quite a different affair to Frankfurt. No wood paneling in sight. The place wasn’t exactly ultra high-end, but one look around the customers showed it attracted people with more than loose change to spare.
She took a seat at a table in a corner, no drink. Paulo could do the honors. She waited for fifteen minutes. With each one that passed, her anxiety levels rose a little. Finally, she spotted him. But then she clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms when she saw he wasn’t alone.
Kyri was there too.
They headed on over. Devereaux tried her best to show no reaction. Paulo’s face was impassive, though Kyri beamed her a smile and leaned in for a kiss on each cheek before he sat down opposite her. Paulo sat next to Devereaux as if to block her in.
Under the table, she slid her left hand down her leg so her fingers were right next to the handle of the knife once again strapped to her inner thigh.
‘Blonde? I think I prefer you natural,’ Kyri said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Care for a drink?’
‘Vodka,’ Devereaux said.
Kyri nodded and beckoned a young waitress over and ordered vodka, a red wine, and a glass of sparkling water.
‘Paulo’s driving,’ Kyri said when he turned back. ‘I don’t want him getting wasted like last time.’
Devereaux clenched her teeth. She could tell by the sly twinkle in Kyri’s eye that he knew what had happened between Paulo and her in that bar in Frankfurt. The question was why the hell would Paulo have told him? She didn’t feel betrayed. More embarrassed.
‘Sounded to me like you two had quite an evening.’
‘It certainly wasn’t a whole evening,’ Devereaux said. ‘Barely a few minutes.’
Kyri laughed, a little too heartily, but after a few moments his face went neutral and then sour.
‘Wig aside, you look like shit,’ he said.
‘I’ve had a rough night.’
‘You and me both,’ he said. ‘I’ve had the shakes all the way here. My vitamin D levels are dying just in anticipation of the cold here.’ He held up his quivering hand as if to prove his point. ‘I don’t like having to leave the sunshine to sort out other people’s mess.’
Devereaux said nothing. The waitress brought the drinks over and Kyri paid with a far too large bill and told her to keep the change.
‘Who were they?’ Devereaux asked. ‘The people in the park?’
‘A problem. For you. But the best thing to do right now is to stick to the plan.’
‘They were police? Spies? What?’
‘You don’t need to know.’
Devereaux’s eyes narrowed. ‘You came all this way to tell me this?’
‘No. I came all this way to try and solve this shit. To try to keep people off your back. I think you know what I’m getting at, don’t you?’
‘Not really.’
‘Shame. Because I thought you were intelligent and I don’t want to have to spell it out to you. I can’t undo the mess you created, but I can help to make it go away. You stick to the plan. We have an address for you.’
‘This isn’t how I work.’
‘You’ll work how I tell you to. I think I explained that last time.’
Devereaux paused. She didn’t really have a response to that. At least not one that Kyri would want to hear. ‘What—’
‘You’ll get this done tonight. Then you’ll leave Denmark. Okay?’
Devereaux said nothing.
‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
Paulo grabbed her hand – her injured one – and pulled it off her lap and pushed it down onto the table. She only resisted a little. She didn’t want to make a scene right here.
‘Are you sure?’ Paulo hissed. ‘Or perhaps we need to take another finger first.’
He mimicked slicing off another of her digits using his hand as a pretend knife. Devereaux did now whip her hand away as she glared daggers at him.
‘That’s enough, both of you,’ Kyri said. ‘She gets the point. I know she does. And I’m glad to see your hand is getting better already.’
Paulo was smirking now. Devereaux wanted nothing more than to slice his face into pieces so he’d never be able to look at anyone like that again.
‘But please, no more mistakes,’ Kyri said.
Devereaux said nothing, just nodded.
Kyri took a big sip of his wine. There was still more than half left as he stood up.
‘I can leave you two here alone if you like?’ he said with a cocky look on his face.
‘No, it’s fine,’ Paulo replied, getting to his feet too. ‘I’m done with her.’
‘Shame,’ Kyri said. ‘She got all dressed up for you too.’
He cackled and then turned and headed off toward the exit. Paulo remained hanging over her. She held his eye for a few moments though she really didn’t have anything to say. Eventually, he shook his head, as if disappointed, before moving off after his boss, leaving Devereaux trying her best to keep her rage from bursting out.
Under the table she slowly slid the knife back into its sheath, then let out a long exhale as she tried to calm down.
Next time. Next time she’d get them both. No matter the consequences.