Chapter 44
It was the quiet that woke me. It was eerie, unnatural. The kind of quiet that made your skin prickle and your instincts tell you to wake the fuck up.
I blinked. My eyes were sticky from lack of sleep. I rubbed them and caught sight of the bruises on my wrist. I smiled to myself. After the shower and what had happened there, slow and soft, we’d come back into the bedroom and fucked each other. Really fucked.
I turned. Cam’s arm was thrown over his head and his left leg was still tangled up in mine. I watched him sleep for a moment, noting the red marks on his neck from my teeth. But then . . . that strange feeling.
An icy feeling clawing over me, something dangerous and sharp. Something was wrong, something was waiting. And then instinctually, as if a part of me already knew, I sat up and looked across to the other side of the room.
Blue eyes. Dark hair. A knife on his lap.
He sat in the armchair like he owned it, like it belonged to him.
But a man like this belonged wherever and anywhere he chose to belong.
And clearly the Blade had chosen to belong right here.
I reached over and slapped Cam on the arm. He reacted immediately.
‘What?’ He turned to look at me. I gestured to the other side of the room with my eyes, and the look on my face must have told him to get the hell up too, because I’d never seen anyone sit up so fast.
The Blade smiled. A slow smile, the kind a crocodile might give you just before it pulled you into a watery death roll.
‘I started thinking to myself,’ he said, casually picking the knife up and tossing it from one hand to the other, ‘what would a private investigator and a policeman be doing on a little island like this?’
Cam tensed behind me. I could feel his muscles tighten under the sheets. But neither of us moved.
The Blade tapped the knife against his forehead.
It had clearly just been polished, because it sent shafts of light shooting across the room.
‘Then I started thinking that maybe they weren’t just here for the beautiful sunsets and the birdwatching.
Maybe they were here watching something else, someone.
’ He smiled again, wider this time. ‘Maybe someone like Victor. Who just happened to be the same person I was watching.’
He looked at us and raised his brows, as if wanting confirmation. It was of course totally unnecessary, because this was perhaps the most redundant question that had ever been posed to anyone before. We all knew the answer to it.
‘So then I started thinking . . . why would a cop and a PI both be watching Victor? So many people for one fat little red man.’ He tilted his head in mock curiosity.
‘Did he forget to pay a speeding fine? Did he jaywalk?’ He chuckled softly to himself, spinning the knife lazily through his fingers, a skill I was sure he’d spent many, many hours perfecting.
‘But then it hit me. Maybe you’re not here just for Victor.
Maybe you’re here because of who he’s meeting.
Maybe you were actually hired by someone who lives a little further north.
Someone with a vested interest in,’ he shrugged dramatically, ‘oh, I don’t know, maybe diamonds? ’
He raised his brows again, giving us a moment to confirm or deny this.
We did nothing. He tapped his head with his knife again.
‘All that thinking really hurts my brain, you know,’ he said, wincing dramatically.
‘All that thinking and I still couldn’t quite work it out.
But I did work out one thing. Want to know what it is?
’ It was clear he was enjoying this little moment with his victims, and I got the feeling it was all part of his ritual, something he did often.
When we still didn’t respond, he carried on.
‘I worked out that it doesn’t matter who sent you, it only matters that you’re here.
Because I’m here.’ His smile dropped. ‘And that’s a big problem. ’
There was a beat of silence, and then Cam cleared his throat. ‘Well, we’re terribly sorry to hear what a problem we’ve been, isn’t that right, Lizzy?’
I nodded. ‘We hate causing problems, keeps us up at night. And we’d hate to think we gave you a headache. I do have some aspirin by the sink if you need it?’
The Blade burst out laughing. It was a disturbing sound.
‘I like you guys, I really, really do, especially you, Lizzy, but . . .’ He stood up slowly and walked towards the bed, his knife dangling from his hand like he’d done this a million times before.
No doubt he had. ‘You’ve caused me to do a lot of thinking.
Too much thinking, because then I had to ask myself what I should do about this problem.
I know what I’d normally do about a problem that stands in my way.
’ He paused and looked us both up and down.
‘But killing a cop and a renowned private investigator, that would be messy. And my bosses hate mess. They like it when things are clean and neat, as if they never happened at all, you know what I mean?’ He didn’t wait for us to reply.
‘Me, on the other hand, I’ve never been a neat man.
My mom always used to shout, “Enzo, Enzo, clean your room, put your plates in the sink, pick up your toy knives.”’ He sighed and looked off into the corner of the room reverently. ‘God rest her soul.’
‘Amen,’ Cam said from next to me.
‘Amen,’ repeated the Blade on another large sigh. Then he threw his free hand in the air dramatically. ‘So now I have to try and be neat because I like my job, especially in this economy, you know.’
‘Of course,’ Cam said. ‘We wouldn’t want you to lose your job over us.’
I shook my head. ‘The market’s tough these days, even for a man like you with such a . . . specialised skill set.’
‘That’s so thoughtful of you both.’ The Blade held his knife up to the light, scrutinising it and then carefully running a finger over the edge, as if cleaning a small spot.
‘What to do, what to do, what to do . . .’ He began pacing the room, taking slow strides.
This wasn’t the pacing of an agitated man though; he was cool, calm and collected. Firmly in control.
‘Can’t cut you up into tiny pieces, and even if I could, don’t have time to dispose of two bodies before this afternoon. Can’t kill you, but can’t let you live either.’ He stopped pacing and swung around to look at us. ‘See my problem?’
‘It’s a real dilemma,’ I said. While the Blade had been talking, I’d already mentally run through every single scenario here. My training had kicked in and my brain was working on autopilot.
Step one: assess the threat profile. One subject, high-risk, edged weapon, unpredictable behaviour, confined space. No known accomplices, but that didn’t mean we weren’t being watched.
Step two: scan the environment. Identify hard and soft cover. Assess light sources. Count exits – visible and potential.
Step three: evaluate the subject’s psychological state. He was calm. Too calm. Calm was dangerous. Calm meant premeditated. He was clearly a Type B hostage-taker: calm, manipulative, enjoying control.
Step four: communication protocol. Establish rapport.
De-escalate. Don’t provoke. Maintain eye contact without challenging.
Mirror his tone, not his threats. Never beg.
Never plead. Keep him engaged. Well, that had already flown out the window; this guy was way too smart to be manipulated by us and some cheap psychological tricks.
Our only option was to meet him with the same sarcasm and disdain that he was dishing out to us.
‘So what conclusion have you reached?’ I asked.
He clicked his tongue, then bared his teeth and looked at them in the reflection of the blade.
‘Don’t you hate muesli?’ he said suddenly.
‘Always getting stuck between your teeth.’ He used the tip of the knife to pick something out of his incisor.
I looked over at Cam while he was distracted and tried to communicate with him.
We were both thinking the exact same thing, that much was certain.
We were going to have to take him on physically. No two ways about it.
‘At least it’s high in fibre, keeps you regular,’ Cam said. He discreetly indicated the statue against the wall. It was big, heavy and perfect for dishing out a blow to the head. I glanced to my side, looking at the umbrellas and walking sticks by the front door. Cam nodded.
‘Now, now . . .’ The Blade returned his attention to us.
‘Don’t think I don’t notice those little looks you’re giving each other.
Don’t think I don’t know you’re planning on hitting me over the head with that .
. .’ He pointed at the statue. ‘And that you’re trying to decide whether to poke me in the ribs with the point of an umbrella or take out my knees with a walking stick. ’
‘Knees,’ I said drily. ‘I’d decided on the knees.’
‘It’s a good plan, but let me tell you why it’s not going to work.
’ He walked towards the foot of the bed.
‘Because of this.’ He reached behind him and pulled a gun out of his waistband, a long silencer attached to the end of it.
‘I don’t want to kill you, but if I have to, I will.
I’m sure my bosses will understand, even if it’s a little messy. ’
Cam and I clocked each other. We both knew that this totally changed things.
The Blade pointed the gun at my bedside table.
‘You see those little cocktails? The ones in the shot glasses?’ He swung his gun to Cam’s bedside table, and then back to mine.
Sitting on each one was a shot glass filled to the brim with a bright yellow liquid.
Beside them, bottles of water. ‘And do you see the ropes on the floor?’
I peered over the side of the bed to see a rope coiled neatly on the ground.
‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re both going to drink those cocktails – sorry, I ran out of time, couldn’t put little umbrellas and pineapples in them.’