Killing Eve Die for Me (Killing Eve #3) - Luke Jennings Page 0,3
in. Villanelle clocked him as Russian straight away, swung over to his table, and went to work. His name was Igor and his ship, as we’d hoped, was the Kirovo-Chepetsk, a Panamax-class container vessel bound for St. Petersburg. Villanelle didn’t waste any time. Poured a triple vodka into him and made her pitch. Igor didn’t look too surprised.
When we took him outside to see the bike, it had started snowing. Villanelle unzipped the waterproof cover, and Igor gave a low whistle. I don’t know one end of a motorcycle from the other, but the Ducati was a thing of beauty and riding on it behind Villanelle had been a dream.
“Want to try her out?” Villanelle asked, her breath vaporous. Igor nodded, slowly running his hands over the handlebar controls and the volcano-gray tank. Then he swung a leg over the saddle, thumbed the ignition switch, and took off on a whisper-quiet circuit of the car park, snowflakes whirling in the headlight beam. When he dismounted, clearly smitten, Villanelle pressed home her advantage in fast, idiomatic Russian. He answered in a murmur, shifting his weight uneasily.
“He’ll get us on board tomorrow night,” she said. “But the bike’s not going to be enough. He’ll do prison time if he’s caught.”
“What else does he want?”
“He wants to see your…” She nodded at my chest.
“My… No. No way!”
“Just one photo, for his private use. He says you remind him of his Aunty Galya.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. She drives a tram in Smolensk. Get them out.”
I looked around the car park. There was no one, except for the three of us. Unzipping my leather bike jacket, I pulled up my sweater, thermal undershirt and bra. Fuck, it was cold.
Staring, Igor fumbled in his track bottoms for his phone. It took him the best part of a minute of crouching and weaving to get the shot he wanted.
“Just make sure my face isn’t in the picture,” I said, shivering. Snow was blurring the lenses of my glasses.
“He’s not interested in your face. He says you have nice breasts, though. And I agree.”
“Well it’s nice that you’re both having such a lovely time, but I’m literally freezing my tits off here. Can I please get dressed?”
“Yeah, we’re good. He’ll help us.”
“When do they load this container onto the ship?” I whispered, as we hollowed ourselves out a nest in the clothing bales.
“Tomorrow, the driver said. Probably around midday.”
“Do you think anyone will check inside first?”
“They might. Are you afraid?”
“Right now, I just don’t want us to be caught.”
She said nothing.
“How long have you been planning this?” I said.
“I’ve always known that one day things might change and I might have to run. So I worked out escape routes. What I didn’t plan for was you coming too.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s OK. Your spoken Russian is shit, so when we get to St. Petersburg you can be mute. Maybe weak in the head. Maybe both. Take your leathers and boots off.”
“Why?”
“So you have something to put on tomorrow when you wake up. Also we have to keep each other warm, share body heat. Do what I say.”
“Please,” I said.
“Please what?”
“Please do what I say.”
She jerked herself away from my side. “Fuck ‘please,’ suchka. You want to stay alive, you obey me.”
“I see.”
“Obviously you don’t see. This is my world, OK?”
“It’s mine too, now. Whether I want it or not.”
“You want to leave? Fine. See how long you last, yebanutaya.”
I couldn’t see her. But I sensed her fury, radiating through the darkness.
“Villanelle,” I began. “Oxana—”
“Don’t ever call me that.”
“OK, I’m sorry, but—”
“But nothing, Polastri. I hope you freeze. I mean it, I hope you fucking die.”
I undid my jacket, trousers and boots and placed them where I could find them in the dark. Beside me, I could hear Villanelle doing the same. Shivering, I settled myself into the bales, about a meter away from her. As the minutes crept by, and the cold wrapped more and more tightly around me, I listened to the calm rise and fall of her breathing. Hateful bitch.
What was I doing? Why, knowing everything that I knew, had I trusted her? I clamped my teeth together, but was unable to prevent them chattering. I pressed my hand over my mouth, blinking away tears of hopeless, abject fury, and knew that I’d destroyed everything in my life that had value. That I’d ignored the inner voice that might have saved me, and thrown in my lot with an unfeeling monster who killed people without a