Tim Stevens - Severance Kill

Calvary’s breath caught in his throat.

‘Yes. I told you we knew for certain who’d killed Grechko, but couldn’t extradite them. Krupina was in London at the time of the Grechko hit, was identified by several sources as being in the vicinity when the murder took place. Left the country hours later. It was her. Not any of the other people our government has made a public show of accusing. But we’ve no proof. So we take revenge on her. Not by killing her, but by making her unwittingly complicit in one of the most sophisticated disinformation exercises since the Cold War. Delicious, isn’t it?’

Calvary said, ‘Except it hasn’t come off the way you wanted.’

Llewellyn hissed through his teeth. ‘Well, yes and no. It’s true that a lot of the elegance has been lost along the way. We can probably blame that gangster chappie for that. But at the end of the day, as the cliche has it, Darya Krupina is dead. She was dying anyway, from cancer, but we got there first. We’ve had our revenge. Thanks to you.’

There was almost too much to process. The cold was settling like a shroud and Calvary felt himself starting to shiver.

‘There still?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve really been most helpful, Martin. Yes, I admit, I made a mistake. I assumed you’d fail to get Gaines. You didn’t. You’ve beaten both the Russians and the most powerful crime lord in Prague. You’re even better than I gave you credit for.’

‘And?’

‘And, I need you to come in now. Bring Gaines in. He can’t be left out there, it’s too messy. As for you, I have great things in mind for you. No more hits. The kind of work you’d enjoy, as well as be skilled in. A senior position.’

Calvary let the silence hang. Then he said, ‘You must be mad.’

‘I can assure you — ’

‘This is the last time we’ll ever speak. You’ll never see me again. Or Gaines.’

‘ Wait — ’

‘Rot in hell, Llewellyn.’

He flung the phone high into the darkness, watched it arc over a row of bushes.

*

They were on the march once more, having found a water fountain and gorged themselves repeatedly. Calvary no longer supported the older man but had to put out a hand once or twice when he staggered.

From a pocket Calvary retrieved the other phone he’d taken from the cottage where Gaines had been kept.

‘ Ano? ’ She sounded guarded.

‘Nikola, it’s me. Can you talk?’

‘What happened? Where — ’

‘Blazek’s dead. Killed himself. I showed him the picture Max took.’

She gasped.

‘How’s Max?’

‘We’re at the hospital. It’s a clean fracture of his upper arm. He doesn’t need surgery. They’re keeping him in overnight, though.’

‘Any trouble on the way?’

‘No. We got a few streets away, called an ambulance. The police are everywhere.’

He was at a loss for a moment. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I am unhurt.’

‘I mean… not physically.’

She didn’t answer, said, ‘Martin, is it over?’

‘Yes. Blazek’s gone for good, and most probably his empire with him. The Russians have failed to get Gaines and most of them are dead, anyway. They may come after us, so Gaines and I need to get away.’

‘Can we meet — ’

‘No. I need to get away.’ Your life’s here in Prague , it seemed unnecessary to say. ‘And you need to get some rest.’

‘Jakub, and Kaspar.’ She sounded as if she was talking to herself.

‘I didn’t know Kaspar, but Jakub was a good guy. He saved me. You all did.’

‘Martin — ’

‘Best that we go. Goodbye, Nikola. And good luck.’

*

It hit him an hour and a half later.

They’d gone west, Calvary and Gaines, stumbling through the streets like two refugees from hell. Eventually the city streets gave way to suburbia. They had no money on them and they looked roughed up.

Calvary broke into a family saloon, a Mazda, that was parked outside a moderately prosperous house. He hotwired the ignition and disabled the alarm within seconds, too late to prevent lights from going on in the house. He felt bad about the theft, and made a mental note of the house number and the name of the street, telling himself he’d send some money in compensation whenever he next had the chance. He wondered if he was kidding himself.

Beside him Gaines dozed. They both needed food — he found a child’s chocolate bar in the glove compartment, which made him feel even more guilty, and they shared the meagre mouthfuls — and sleep. Plus medical attention, especially Calvary. The hole in his forehead was throbbing and when he touched the discharge seeping from it, his fingers smelled.

He kept off the motorways, with no real idea where he was going other than that it was in the broad direction of Austria. What he would do once he got there he didn’t know.

The unease tugged at him all the way. Something Llewellyn had said; or rather, something he’d said to Llewellyn.

On a country road winding between dark fields, the odour of manure pungent in the night air, Calvary slammed on the brakes, sending the car slewing sideways. Gaines jerked awake against his seatbelt, mumbling.

Calvary grabbed the phone.

It was answered, but in silence.

He said, ‘Nikola?’

The chuckle, the one he’d thought and hoped he’d never hear again.

‘Martin. I was so hoping you’d call.’

Calvary pressed himself back into the seat, his head pinned against the headrest. His fists gripped the phone and the steering wheel. His stomach roiled emptily. Bile felt as if it were sludging his throat closed.

Llewellyn had the upper hand.

The sun had risen an hour earlier and hung low and watery in a pale cocoon of cloud. It would have been warmer to sit in the car with the engine running, but Calvary needed to keep moving to loosen up the joints and get the blood through the muscles. He paced slowly and steadily beside the vehicle. Gaines sat in the passenger seat, glancing about.

The field lay on the outskirts of the city, to the north west. A potholed mudstreaked track curved down from the main road to a gate in a low stone wall. Calvary had pulled through the gate and driven some way in and swung round to face the gate, a hundred yards or so from it. Behind, sweeping up to the road, was a grassy bank with a drainage ditch separating it from the field. Off to the left, half a football pitch’s length away, was the edge of a pine forest.

Every time the noise of a car came down from the road he turned to look, but each one swept by without slowing. Calvary wasn’t all that conspicuous, a man standing next to a car in a field, but he assumed it was private property and didn’t know how likely it was that whoever owned it would find him there.

His phone said it was seven fifteen. He’d synchronised it with Llewellyn an hour before.

*

‘A straight swap. You and Gaines for the young lady.’

Gaines frowned and blinked in the seat beside him.

When Calvary didn’t answer Llewellyn said, ‘Oh, come on, Martin. It’s nothing personal. You know that.’

p› ‹p width="2em" align="justify"›‹span›‹font size="+0"›He’d screwed up, in two ways. By asking Llewellyn to run a check on Nikola and the others earlier, he’d allowed the man to find out her address. And by telling Nikola the battle was over, he’d given her the green light to return home. Llewellyn had already guessed what Nikola meant to Calvary.‹

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‘How long have you been in Prague?’ His voice grated like an unoiled hinge.

‘Since yesterday morning. As soon as you told me the mobsters had taken Gaines, I decided to come over.’

With how much backup? Calvary had no idea. There’d be SIS agents here in the city. How many were affiliated with the Chapel?