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“I remember my training.” Another memory. This one is much darker. The lashes across my back. Isobel being taken from me, screaming my name, sobbing as they drag her away. The electric shocks. The solitary confinement. The training. The lack of a choice in any of it. All of those memories race through my head in an instant.
Imelda’s back on her feet, looking at me funny. “If I wasn’t me, I’d think you were feeling something,” she says. “Something happen at work I should know about?”
“It’s nothing. Forget it.”
“Nothing? You want to be careful, Jack. She could describe you pretty accurately if she got that close to you.”
That jars me, but it shouldn’t. Imelda knows everything that happens to me. She’s my handler for a reason.
“She won’t be telling anyone about me.”
“You sure about that?”
“Even if she does, so what? Clean kill. No witnesses in the room.”
“You want to keep your cock out of your work, Jack. Fuck some random woman on the street. Don’t pick a girl who was at the fucking scene of the crime. I don’t want to tell you again.”
“Hey, it’s been a month. You said there was no heat coming my way.”
“What’s your point?”
“She’s not talking. No one is. No suspects.”
“For now. Had to respray that car before selling it on. Who gave you permission to steal the catering boss’s car? No, don’t answer. No one did. You fuck up like that again and it might be the last thing you do.”
“That you talking or the big guys?”
“I speak for the organization. You know that. Keep your mind on the job.”
“Or I die, I know.”
She finishes the last of the ice cream. “The world is a cruel place, Jack. That’s why you fit in so well. You know that. You’re better off staying away from civilians like her. They don’t see behind the curtain, don’t know how nasty things can get. Try jerking off instead next time. Fewer complications.”
“You done?”
“You’re not James Bond. You can’t just fuck every woman you like the look of. We taught you to maintain standards.
She takes the envelope and the assignment from me. “Flight leaves tonight at ten. Be sure to pack enough heat.”
She walks away from me, heading toward the far side of the bluff. There’s no path there, but I know her well. At the edge, she grabs hold of a rope that was hidden behind a jutting out rock. “See you when you get back,” she says before leaping off the side and vanishing from sight.
I get a sudden urge to go over and untie the rope before she can belay her way down, watch her fall to her death.
What would be the point? I’d get another handler who wouldn’t know me as well as Imelda does. Might decide I’m too old for this and take me out before I have time to retire. Kill Isobel too, in order to tidy up all the loose ends.
A couple more jobs and I’ll have enough saved to buy her back. Then we’re gone and life will be simple. No more looking over my shoulder. No more interruptions from Imelda when I’m trying to forget. Nothing but peace and trying to make it up to Isobel for what happened to her parents.
I run faster downhill than up, still trying to wipe the feelings out. My pulse never gets above ninety on the way back to the car.
I climb in, ignoring the flight tickets left for me on the passenger seat. I drive hard, heading straight for the hairpin bend in front of me. I race toward it, two seconds from plunging into the ravine beyond.
At the last moment, I yank the wheel to the left and skid around the gravel, spinning out on the edge briefly before the tires grip again and I’m racing back along the track.
A glance at my watch. Pulse is still going down.
Yet the touch of Clarissa’s hands over the lash marks on my back? My heart pounding as she looked up at me, almost asking how I got them.
I’ll forget her soon enough. Because Imelda’s right. She could identify me. Could make things complicated.
