Free Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4) by Tom Wood Page A

Eleanor was here, she would insist and you would take the money instead of offending her.’
    Norimov reached into his coat. He had a shrink-wrapped brick of hundred-dollar bills. A glance told Victor the brick contained one hundred bills. ‘It’s clean.’
    ‘Regardless,’ Victor said. ‘I don’t carry that much cash.’
    ‘Your choice,’ Norimov said, putting the brick away again.
    ‘You do realise that they might have her already? They might be keeping her alive while they smuggle her back to St Petersburg. Better leverage that way, and here is where they are strongest. That’s what I would do. I would call you and make her scream down the phone for you to save her and I would tell you to come alone – and you would.’
    Norimov put his face in his hands. ‘For all my crimes, I have never been so sadistic. I am a sickly lamb surrounded by wolves because my compassion is weakness. Ironic, because my criminality bred Gisele’s hatred of me. Had I been crueller, she would now be safe.’
    ‘Almost certainly,’ Victor agreed. ‘You forgot the first rule.’
    The Russian stared at him, red-eyed and weak. ‘Survival before everything. I know. I did forget. I allowed myself a life. But is it worth it, Vasily? Is surviving enough?’
    Victor thought about all the corpses he had seen; all the dead faces of those who had failed to survive because he had instead.
    ‘Each breath is worth it.’

FOURTEEN
    International airports were among Victor’s least favourite places. Almost without exception they were teeming with armed security guards and cameras. Each time he passed through passport control he risked being compromised. Either because the identity he was travelling under had been flagged in connection with one of his previous jobs or it had ceased to be clean for reasons beyond his control, or his frequent surgeries had failed to outwit the continued advancements in facial recognition technology, or a keen-eyed member of staff identified that he simply wasn’t
right
.
    He’d been in London within the last year as part of a job, but only to discuss it. The time before that, the visit had been what could be called a personal project, and though he’d been involved in serious criminal activity, no one had lost their life by his hand. Travelling anywhere he’d operated before carried risk, but in this instance visiting London posed minimal risk. He had a strong inclination that once he left again, he wouldn’t be returning for a long time.
    He arrived at London City Airport after a smooth Rossiya flight that took a little over four hours, getting out of his seat when about half of the cabin had already departed to reduce the chances he would be picked out for scrutiny. Those in a hurry to disembark were more likely to be noticed, as were those in no hurry. The centre of the bell curve was where Victor always preferred to lurk.
    A smiling woman asked him a few routine questions as she checked his documents and smiled wider after she’d wished him a pleasant stay. He circled the terminal twice as part of his routine counter surveillance, paying particular attention to those waiting with a view of where his arrival lounge connected with the terminal proper.
    He had an overnight bag but no other luggage. Victor preferred to travel light. He would travel with no luggage at all if not for the fact it would mark him out as someone to pay attention to. The case was a cheap knockoff purchased from a market trader in St Petersburg. It contained similarly counterfeit clothes. Victor had no intention of wearing them or keeping hold of the case any longer than necessary. Though the case and the clothes had not been used as part of any criminal activity, they connected him to St Petersburg, to Russia. Therefore they were compromised. Not solely because of his relationship with Norimov or his enemies in the country, but because they were evidence of his movements. Any connection with his past, whether a day ago or ten