Free Get Katja by Simon Logan Page B

the first place, he knew who I was or at least he said he did. He knew about the island.”
    “A friend of Szerynski or one of the other dealers?”
    “Who knows. He stank of cop,” she says. She selects a pair of baggy cargo pants and pulls them on. They slouch on her hips even after she pulls the belt tight.
    Next is a similarly oversized hooded top, black with a design which has flaked away. When she puts it on all shape is lost from her body. She laces her boots back up and lets the cargos drop down over them, almost entirely concealing them.
    “Whoever he was, if he knows about my involvement in what went on then he probably knows about yours too.”
    “What about the surgeon? He didn’t recognise me. And he didn’t seem to know who you were either.”
    She nods, accepting this. “Who knows what that freak wanted or why? Point is it could have just been luck that Fatso found me. Someone could have tipped him off about the squat and he knew that if he waited long enough I’d turn up. If he knew about the gig then he probably would have just waited and come for me there instead.”
    “That still doesn’t mean it’s safe to go through with it.”
    “You got a razor?”
    He points to a plastic cup. Inside is a worn toothbrush, a nail file, and disposable razor. She takes the razor and goes back to the mirror, starts shaving her scalp.
    “Anyway, the tranny has my guitar and if I don’t do the gig then I can’t get it back. And while we’re there you can tell her that the debt is yours.”
    “We?”
    “You’re coming too”, she says, tapping the razor to get rid of crumbly shavings.
    “I am?”
    “It’s your debt that’s gotten me into this mess in the first place isn’t it? You come down there and tell that psycho cross-dresser that this all has nothing to do with me. Don’t worry, once it’s all sorted we’ll go our separate ways and I’ll be out of your life again.”
    “Oh.”
    “What?”
    “Nothing,” he says. “I was just going to say . . . I could probably sort you out with a space here. If you needed it. Or wanted it.”
    She looks at the two beds.
    “Oh, I didn’t mean . . . I just meant in the building.”
    She shakes her head. “I’ll figure something out myself. All that matters just now is getting through the next few hours. They might have figured out where I’m staying but at least they won’t know where you are.”
    “Right,” he says. “You mean the fat guy.”
    “And the surgeon.”
    “And the surgeon,” he repeats. Then something obviously occurs to him. “Well . . .”
    Katja puts the razor down. Turns. “They couldn’t possibly know where you stay, right? We made sure nobody followed us.”
    Nikolai wriggles. Katja fixes him with a stare, takes a pace towards him. He takes a pace back.
    “Nik.”
    “The form,” he says. “The release form. The nurse that picked me up made me fill it out and it asked for my . . .”
    “
You gave them your fucking address? This address?
”
    “Well, the form asked for it.”
    “Jesus
fucking
Christ,” Katja says, already making her way out of the room.
    Nikolai chases after her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, they probably won’t even . . .”
    “Won’t even what?” she says, turning abruptly. “They won’t bother to come
looking
?
Nikolai, you’re as big a fuck-up as ever, you know that? We’ve got to get out of here
now
.”
    She climbs the short set of steps leading into the main corridor, leaving him behind.
    Then stops suddenly.
    A few metres in front of her, looking as shocked as Katja herself, is a woman in her early thirties.
    Pink hair and purple latex gloves.

23.
    Spending so much time in amongst the guinea pig community, Bridget has figured out how to let herself blend in with them and so despite still being dressed in her work uniform and heels she manages to enter the squat without raising suspicion. It’s all about the attitude.
    Once inside it’s a trickier prospect, no real