Nadia raced around and found the bear on its hind legs, incisors bared, Katya and her mother pinned against the shed. Nadia didnât hesitate, shot it through the mouth, blew out the back of its skull, and put another two bullets in its chest to make sure. Nadia would never forget the look of horror on her motherâs face.
But a bear wasnât a person.
Her father had been a killer. Sheâd not known before his death, but had found out later. Her mother had made sure of it. Maybe some of those heâd murdered had deserved it. But one had been a journalist doing an anti-corruption piece on the government. Later, during a short break from Kadinskyâs training camp, Nadia had gone to see his widow, tried to give her money. It didnât go well, once the woman realised who Nadia was.
âI donât want your fucking money, suka , I want my husband back!â Sheâd slapped Nadiaâsface hard, then attacked her. Nadia could have defended herself, had been trained to, but she didnât, just let the blows rain down on her. After a while the widow, exhausted, tears in her eyes, held up a trembling hand in the crude shape of a pistol, her second finger the trigger. âBack of the head. Just a small movementâ â she made a clicking sound with her tongue â âand my manâs life was gone.â She looked down at Nadia. âWhy the fuck are you crying?â
âI donât know,â Nadia answered, because she didnât. She left the money on the table, went to a bar and got seriously drunk.
But the question remained. Could she kill?
Next time.
She got up and walked around the crumbling edge of the dock. The horn-blast of the Scillonian, the massive blue and white ferry bound for the remote Scilly Isles, made the seagulls take flight. The Scillies. Her hideaway destination. Off the mainland. Smallville. Most people on the run wouldnât go there, because it was difficult to get away from. Like retreating into the corner of a chessboard. Limited moves remaining. But that also made it a blind spot for the authorities, and the local police there would be little more than village bobbies. No detectives, no serious military presence.
Sheâd considered taking the ferry, until the heightened security made her think again. The heliport was out of the question. Hopping down a few steps onto the creaking gangplanks of the floating jetty, she searched for a smaller boat, âScilly Boyâ. Sheâd met Mike, the boatâs red-haired skipper, in a bar the night before. Heâd said he was heading to the Isles. Mike had shown interest in her, though heâd seemed shy. Sheâd noticed that his second finger had a ring-shaped patch less sunburned than the rest of his hand. Probably married. Only wore his ring when back home. Not that she was interested. Since the ordeal with Slick and Pox, sheâd forged herself into the female equivalent of a eunuch. Besides, Katya more than made up for Nadiaâs abstinence. Maybe when this was all over.
Maybe.
At the end of the jetty she spied him preparing to leave. âYou headed where I think you are?â she shouted.
Mike raised his head. On seeing her, his freckled face lit up.
âSt Maryâs, Hugh Town.â He paused, as if gauging his luck. âYou want a ride? Itâs a long trip, wonât be there till dark. The ferryâs much faster.â Mike appeared to be standing perfectly still, despite the rocking of the boat. âYou get seasick?â
âOnly on large boats.â Flashing a smile, she passed her backpack down to him.
âHey, itâs pretty heavy; what have you got in there?â
Nadia locked her smile into place. âOh, you know, lipstick. Girl stuff.â
Mike shook his head. âWhatever you say.â He set it down on the short bench at the back of the boat, helped her in, and began casting off. She knew heâd be busy slaloming his way