Zero kill, p.13
Zero Kill, page 13
‘I’m going to run,’ said Elsa, who didn’t see how she had any other choice.
‘Nobody would blame you for that in the circumstances. But you know as well as I do, darling, that you can’t run forever.’ Mrs Krystahl whisked another cocktail off a tray as it went past. ‘You don’t have the resources or the contacts any more.’ Her eyes drifted up and down Elsa. ‘And with the greatest respect, you’ve left it far too late to grab yourself a billionaire Sugar Daddy. I’d suggest it’s in your best interests to discover what on earth is happening to you, and why. Aims that naturally align with ours.’
‘I don’t work for you any more.’
‘Yes.’ The older woman spun the twizzle stick in the drink. ‘And that’s a shame. I’ve looked at your impressive file, and I must say, I would never have let you go.’
Elsa saw Katherine, the woman who had just walked past, glance over; Tasmin and Melvin, too. And it made her wonder again just how many of the men and women in the room were RedQueen. One or two or three – or everyone? Elsa didn’t know how many employees and contractors the organization had around the world, but it was entirely possible she was surrounded by assassins.
And if Elsa declined Mrs Krystahl’s offer of support, would she get out of here alive? She could take out a few people on the way, perhaps, bloody a few noses, knock out a few bleached teeth, but she suspected she’d never make it to the lift.
‘Our actions must be robust, Elsa. We’re going to have to take the situation into our own hands and fight back. The only way out is through; that’s a quote from someone.’
‘We?’
‘You have our unequivocal support in your perilous hour of need.’
‘I don’t even know where to start.’
‘Well, that’s obvious. You’re going to have to break into the SIS headquarters at Vauxhall Cross to steal the files on Pilot Fish.’
Elsa sniggered mirthlessly. The older woman was obviously having a laugh at her expense. ‘You’re crazy.’
‘I understand how you feel about it, but we really have no other choice. And you’re an incursion specialist, after all, an expert in getting in and out of places, so it’ll be a piece of cake for you. However, it must be tonight – Zoe Castle’s regrettable death may not have been totally in vain. Camille will explain to you on the way, but you have to go now.’
Elsa had already been nearly killed once this evening, and didn’t fancy chancing her luck again. Breaking into the SIS building, for fuck’s sake.
But Mrs Krystahl was right about one thing – what other choice did she have?
There was something she had to do first. ‘I have to make a phone call.’
The skin over Mrs Krystahl’s face stretched tightly. ‘I really don’t think you should be making phone calls. They’ll be listening across the network – for your name, code phrases. There’s probably a whole section of sad little men in GCHQ with voice-recognition software waiting to identify you among the millions of conversations happening across the country tonight.’
Elsa was surprised. ‘They can do that?’
‘Would you really put it past them, Elsa?’ The older lady drained her second glass. ‘I certainly wouldn’t.’
‘Either I make a call,’ Elsa said, ‘or I catch a plane.’
Mrs Krystahl sighed and nodded to a corner of the room. When Elsa headed there, a man gave her a handset.
Elsa couldn’t remember any of her numerous online customer service passwords, but the landline telephone number from her childhood would be forever imprinted on her brain. The local code had changed, but not the main number. She called it, sticking a finger in her other ear to listen over the noise of the room. The phone rang four – five – six times, and then was picked up.
Greta answered. ‘Yes.’
‘It’s me.’ When Elsa was met with silence, she added, ‘Your daughter.’
Greta said sourly, ‘Are you insane, calling here?’
Her mother was right, of course, and Elsa burned with shame and dread that she may have put her children in danger. ‘I just need to know they’re—’
‘They’re fine,’ said Greta sharply. ‘Don’t call again.’
And then the line went dead.
Elsa handed back the cordless phone, then returned to the table where Mrs Krystahl had placed the martini; picked it up, intending to neck it. Tonight, of all nights, a fortifying drink wouldn’t hurt. But the older woman intercepted the glass before it reached her lips.
‘You had better go now, you have a busy evening ahead of you.’
20
The Airbus ACH160 flew over the top of the trees and turned above the manicured lawn, the downdraught from the rotors making a plastic football left on the grass race into a flowerbed.
Sitting in the luxury passenger cabin, Arkady Krupin saw his sprawling Surrey estate for the first time in many months. He and his wife, Natalya, had enjoyed happy times here, but it felt strange to be back; the circumstances bittersweet.
The helicopter hovering as the pilot made final adjustments above the gentle slope of the lawn, Arkady impatiently checked the time on his Patek Philippe Nautilus. He’d intended to arrive hours ago but a business meeting had overrun, which was what happened when you filled a room with expensive lawyers and accountants who all felt obliged to contribute opinions, and he was afraid the party would already be over. On the leather seat beside him in the spacious compartment was a gift box.
‘Can we hurry up, please?’ he said into his mic.
When the helicopter finally touched down, and Hazlett came in a hunching run across the lawn to open the door, Arkady unbuckled and took off his noise-cancelling headphones. He grabbed the box, but left his Dior overnight bag; someone would pick it up.
The roar of noise beneath the whirling blades was tremendous as they headed towards the veranda at the back of the house. Expensive outdoor furniture ran the length of it. Cushions and folded blankets were placed there every morning, even during the long periods when Arkady wasn’t in residence.
With the last of the evening warmth almost gone, outdoor heaters had been turned on. Candles flickered and tea lights guttered. Champagne had been placed in an ice bucket on one of the low tables, as it always was when he arrived. The sight of the two upturned glasses beside it made Arkady’s heart clench. He and Natalya loved to sit there of an evening, watching the moon rise behind the tops of the swaying trees beyond the lawn.
Those had been happy days, when they had been in love – or he had been in love with her, at least. Natalya had always craved the life of an English Lady of the Manor, and he had done everything in his power to make her dream come true. But within a year, bored and frustrated by the quiet and isolation of the countryside, she divorced him and moved to a lavish apartment in the city. She still lived there, so his army of detectives told him, partying and spending the tens of millions she won from him in court as if money was going out of fashion.
Arkady had loved this place once, but only because Natalya had loved it – or loved the idea of it – and he spent very little time here now; he found it too painful.
This would be his last visit.
On the lawn, the Airbus powered down, its rotors steadily losing momentum. Three hulking gentlemen, members of his security detail, came to meet him as he headed around the side of the house towards the greenhouse.
‘Good to see you, my friends.’ Arkady pumped each of their hands in turn. He was their employer, but common courtesy cost nothing.
Anthony Hazlett, his executive assistant, was tall, but even his long legs struggled to match the stride of Arkady – by his own admission, a diminutive, somewhat dumpy man – as they crossed the gravel drive at the front of the house, where a number of expensive vehicles were parked.
Hazlett said anxiously, ‘Things have been happening that—’
Arkady stopped to readjust the heavy box under his arm. One of his men had offered to take it, but he insisted on carrying it himself.
‘And how are you, Arkady?’ he replied in his thick Russian accent. ‘Why, I’m fine, thank you, Anthony, it’s good of you to ask.’
Hazlett blinked. ‘It’s good to see you, sir. I hope you are well.’
‘I’m not sure I like the sir bit, but thank you.’ Arkady laughed, and clapped his assistant on the shoulder. ‘Please tell me I’m not too late!’
‘It’s still in full swing, sir. But it’s important that I update you.’
‘There is no update on earth so urgent that it’s worth missing a child’s party for.’
‘The situation with the target is developing in ways we didn’t anticipate.’
Arkady waved a dismissive hand. ‘It’s all under control, I’m sure.’
‘The sooner we discuss it, the—’
Arkady wasn’t comfortable raising his voice to assert his considerable power and privilege, but he had made himself quite clear.
‘I promise I will give you and the situation – which I’m fully aware of, by the way, because you phoned me at least a dozen times this afternoon – my full and undivided attention in approximately…’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Twelve minutes. But first I must deliver a young man his birthday gift.’
Hazlett breathed hard in an effort to walk and talk. ‘But you should know that—’
‘Is the situation completely out of control?’ Arkady asked. ‘Should we be fleeing the country?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then we will discuss it after I deliver this gift.’
‘I understand.’ Hazlett didn’t sound like he understood in the slightest, but he let Arkady continue on his own towards the large Victorian greenhouse that stood a short distance from the house on its western side.
The green-painted structure was derelict when Arkady bought the mansion and its considerable grounds. Natalya had immediately fallen in love with its rusted skeleton and demanded it be renovated. So Arkady had it painstakingly rebuilt to its former glory of wrought iron and glass, a labour of love and outrageously expensive, and it stood now as a fitting monument to another age.
There was plenty of space inside its fifty-foot length to hold events, particularly as large parts of the house were currently out of bounds, and it was the birthday party of the son of his head gardener to which he hurried.
Natalya loved children. She had two of her own from a previous marriage, and he had four, but it was a great disappointment to Arkady that they never had any together; he often wondered whether things would have turned out differently. His own three sons and his daughter were adults now, pursuing careers all over the globe, and it had been weeks since he’d heard from any of them.
Approaching the entrance, he heard laughter and music. Despite the relatively late hour, the birthday party was still in progress. The children must be exhausted!
‘Hello, Kieron.’ He shook the hand of the huge man standing outside. ‘How is that lovely wife of yours?’
‘Very good, sir.’ The faint tremor around Kieron’s mouth suggested he was trying to smile. It never failed to amuse Arkady how these tough bodyguards, these so-called protection specialists, wore permanent scowls. They tried so hard to look menacing, it was almost comical. ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘And she’s being well cared for?’
The man placed a hand on his chest. ‘She’s very comfortable. Thank you, sir, for everything you’ve done for us.’
‘She’ll be well looked after, I promise. In the meantime, there’s something I need you to do.’
‘Anything, sir.’
Arkady pointed to a nearby shed, and told him to bring some objects from inside and place them at the entrance to the greenhouse. And when he walked inside, everyone was in the party spirit. A trestle table stood near the front with fizzy drinks, snacks, crisps and treats for the children, and beer and wine for the adults.
Arkady made a point of greeting each and every member of his staff – all the housekeepers, maids and gardeners – and asked after their families. He was a good employer to the people who worked at his various properties, and always made a point of memorizing small details about their personal lives. Natalya was often rude to employees, which he had found embarrassing and unnecessary.
Darren was organizing party games for his ten-year-old son, Luke, and the boy’s friends, who had come from a village nearby to enjoy his birthday. A dozen kids were running around chairs set out in a line as music played. Arkady’s chef was in charge of the music coming from the portable speakers. When she touched the screen of her phone the music stopped, and the kids hurled themselves at the nearest chair.
When Darren saw Arkady, he came over to shake his hand. ‘Thank you so much for coming, sir. And thank you for the wonderful party.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Darren! I’m sorry I didn’t manage to get here earlier. Work, you understand.’
‘It’s amazing that you’re here.’
‘How lovely.’ Arkady gave a little bow of gratitude when someone handed him a glass of bubbly. ‘And here’s the birthday boy!’
With the game finished, Luke came over and his father pushed him gently forward. ‘Say thank you to Mr Krupin.’
‘Thank you for my party,’ said the boy dutifully. It was obvious to Arkady that Luke wanted to get back to his friends, and who could blame him for that?
‘This is for you.’ Arkady gave the boy the gift one of his staff had purchased at Harrods, and which he had brought with him from London. Luke ripped off the wrapping to reveal a box containing an expensive remote-controlled car.
‘Oh my God,’ Luke said with excitement as his friends crowded round. ‘It’s the coolest thing ever!’
Arkady grinned, enjoying the boy’s happiness. It had been a long time since his own children had been so young, and back then he had been a distracted parent. He had been busy consolidating his vast fortune in oil, minerals and ore, but he wished now he had been more present as a father.
‘But nobody goes home empty-handed,’ he told all the boys and girls. ‘I have a surprise for all of you. Go and look outside!’
There was a great commotion when the kids rushed out of the greenhouse to discover the brand-new top-of-the-range rally bikes Kieron had placed outside.
Arkady laughed delightedly at the look of disbelief on their faces. ‘Enjoy!’
Taking a bike each, Luke and his gang took off across the lawn, intending to race around the grounds together.
‘A birthday for Luke to remember, I hope.’
‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ said Darren, as the children darted away between the trees.
‘Love your son, my friend, and cherish your time with him.’ Arkady squeezed his shoulder. ‘Because take it from me, it all flies by very quickly.’
He said goodbye to everyone in the greenhouse and walked back towards the house. In the distance, the boys and girls raced each other around the grounds.
‘Be careful!’ Arkady called.
When he walked into the large marble reception room of his mansion, Hazlett, who had been sitting morosely in a Louis XIV chair, jumped to his feet.
‘Now, my friend.’ Arkady clapped his hands together. ‘You have my full attention.’
‘The target has evaded capture. We managed to keep her out of the hands of British intelligence.’
‘That’s good, then.’
Arkady and Hazlett strode together down the wide, immaculately renovated corridors of wood, marble and tile to the east wing of the mansion, Kieron following at a discreet distance.
‘But she was… spirited away.’
‘By whom?’
‘RedQueen, we think.’
Arkady shrugged. ‘Everything else is on schedule?’
‘Yes, of course. But the target—’
‘Let’s not panic. A train of events has been set in motion, and I promise they will play out as I predicted. More importantly, we’re ready at this end.’
Hazlett couldn’t let it go. ‘But we need Zero to—’
Arkady interrupted. ‘Do you trust me, Anthony?’
Hazlett looked offended. ‘Of course!’
Arkady reached up to squeeze his shoulder. ‘Then please, my friend, you needn’t worry.’
None of Arkady’s domestic staff were allowed to venture into the sealed east wing, which could only be accessed via a single set of double doors, and which required biometric verification via a palm-reader on the wall.
Arkady lifted his hand to the pad and the doors unlocked. Kieron pulled them open, to allow his employer into the vast room beyond.
Centuries ago, the windowless room they entered had been a giant ballroom where gentlemen and ladies moved with elegance and grace across the floor. Arkady and Natalya had dreamed of holding sumptuous masked balls in this room once again, but it was never to be. Huge chandeliers comprised of hundreds of glittering crystals still hung from the ceiling. Centuries-old portraits of gentlemen in frock coats and ladies in corsets and towering wigs, and innumerable equestrian scenes, adorned the panelled walls. But the room was now filled with desks, tables and monitor screens.
Men and women sat tapping at keyboards and moving their fingers across trackpads, and barely looked up when the three men walked across the room to another door. Arkady once again placed his hand on a scanner.
The door clicked open, and they walked into the room at the far end of the wing. It was just as large, with elegant decorations and cornices that had survived from another age. But the shutters were closed over the windows in this room: they had been nailed shut, so no daylight could get in. Instead, the room was starkly lit by large industrial lamps standing in each corner.
And dominating the space in the centre was a rectangular room-within-a-room, about half the size of the entire space. Transparent plastic walls revealed figures in positive-pressure sealed bodysuits working inside the structure.
A level-4 biolab.
