Zero Kill by M.K. Hill

Author:M.K. Hill [Hill, M. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781804549230
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

28

Elsa called Camille on the phone she’d been given as she pushed Saint through the empty streets.

‘We said six,’ said Camille in surprise.

‘Unexpected visitors. What did you find on the images I took from the computer?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’ Camille directed them to a nearby park. ‘Sit tight, and I’ll come as soon as I can.’

They headed there, trying to stay out of sight of CCTV cameras atop streetlamps and on shopfronts, and the proliferation of doorbell video cameras that could identify their location. There were probably satellites searching the urban sprawl for her as they moved above the earth in silent low orbit – Elsa didn’t know how sophisticated they were, or what kind of image they could pick up at night – but there was nothing she could do about that.

Sirens wailed in the distance, just about discernible among all the other howling sounds assaulting her damaged eardrum, which hurt like hell. The police would already be at Dougie’s house. He would be telling incredulous officers what had happened, Roberta would be crying, and someone would be calling SIS about the two dead Russians. Spooks were probably already piling into a car.

The park was a small square of green surrounded by tall buildings. Saint collapsed on one of the benches, stretching along the length of it. Wrapping her arms around her chest, Elsa tried to make herself comfortable on the other bench, but it was chilly. Her feet were still damp, as were her bum and the backs of her thighs in the thin fabric of her leggings. Saint was awake and looking at something, a piece of paper that had been folded and unfolded so many times it was almost falling apart; the edge of one quarter was shiny with ancient sticky tape.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, and he handed it to her.

It was a faded image of a clapboard shack beside a white beach, a sea of azure blue; his dream home she remembered seeing as they flew into Buenos Aires. Despite everything that had happened to him, he still carried it all these years later.

‘Found it yet?’ she asked him.

‘Don’t look likely now,’ he said, closing his eyes.

‘You’ll get there one day. You’ll walk down that beach, feel the sand between your toes and lift your head to the sun.’

He blew out his lips. ‘I’ll be dead first. Ain’t no way out for people like us, Elsie. We think we can leave the life behind any time, but we can’t. If I ever do get to walk on that beach, all I’ll be able to think about is all the bad things I did to get there. It may be paradise, but it’ll be the same old hell in my head.

‘People like me and you, our lives ain’t never going to be all pensions and slippers, quiet days in front of a roaring fire. We’re made to be knocked down like skittles. The good ones like you – and me, back in the day – just keep getting up.

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