Free Certain Death by Tanya Landman Page B

knew her at once. He told me to give myself up. He said he would cover for me no longer. But I cannot. I will not! Stand trial for doing my duty to my country? It is inconceivable! I borrowed his weapons to dispose of my enemies. He is not the only man here who is an excellent shot.”
    “So you killed Ana the way we thought,” I said. “And Peepo? Did you shoot him, too?”
    “Ah! Poor, foolish Peepo! He was obsessed with Irena. When he meddled with the posters and the adverts he was hot with anger. I knew that he was the perfect – how you say? – fall guy. If she was shot at, everyone would think he was to blame. A broken heart, a jealous rage – the same old story that has been told through the centuries. Yet Peepo saw what I had done. He tried to blackmail me. So he, too, had to die. I went to Irena’s caravan. I found the note he had written and saw at once how I could use it to my advantage. I tore it in half. I waited. I knew he would come. It was a habit of his to go there when she was absent. I killed him and climbed out of the window.”
    “And you hid the other half of the note in Yuri’s photo? What was the point of that?”
    The Dashing Blade shrugged. “A contingency plan. A second fall guy. If the police did not believe Peepo had killed himself, I needed a different direction to point them in.”
    “But you couldn’t have got away with that. If they’d arrested Yuri, he’d have told the police what you did in Stolijna. They’d have worked it out.”
    “Not if I silenced him first. Overcome with remorse, he shoots himself. Another suicide. Easy.”
    I was stunned by the man’s ruthlessness. “You’d be prepared to kill your own brother to save your skin?”
    “Not kill.
Execute
.” He spoke as if it made perfect sense. “He should have faced a firing squad many years ago.”
    “Excuse me,” said Graham politely, “but I don’t understand why you’re telling us all this. Your plan was working. We believed Yuri was guilty. You didn’t need to confess to us.”
    The Dashing Blade stepped forward and held the tip of his knife a millimetre from Graham’s throat. “I have met people like you before. Persistent, troublesome, nosy. So nosy! You are like terriers. British bulldogs. I have been watching you. I knew you would not rest until you had found out the truth. You give me no choice but to kill you.”
    “How are you going to do it?” I asked. My voice came out as a pathetic little whine.
    He ran his second knife across my cheek. “Regrettably I cannot use this on you. A knife wound would – how you say? – give the game away.” He sheathed both knives and balled his hands into fists. “I will knock you both senseless now. After the show tonight, the big top comes down. Accidents happen. You will be in the wrong place at the wrong time. When you are found, people will think you were crushed by a falling pole. Two foolish, nosy children who should not have been out on their own.”
    Before I could move or react, the Dashing Blade spun on his heel and struck Graham hard on the side of the head. Luckily Graham had seen it coming and ducked, so it was no more than a glancing blow. He was dazed and shocked, but still standing.
    “Run!” I shrieked, grabbing his arm. We sprinted for the exit. When we reached the curtain to the backstage bit, I let go of Graham and yanked it aside, pulling it off its rings, and sped through. A few more steps and we’d be safe!
    Then I heard Graham yelp. Dizzied by the knock to the head, he couldn’t keep up. The Dashing Blade had caught him from behind. His arm was around Graham’s neck. Graham’s face had turned a hideous shade of red. All thoughts of faking our accidental deaths seemed to have vanished. The Dashing Blade was so enraged that he was throttling my friend.
    I grabbed a big wooden cane off the table next to me and launched myself at Graham’s attacker, whacking the cane repeatedly into the backs of his legs with all my might. It