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Better take that shower…
Clean and in fresh clothes, I pause in the doorway from my room.
Katya’s returned to the lounge, looking much more relaxed. Lounging in an armchair, she riffles through some magazine. After a few moments, she tosses it to one side and picks up her book.
From my spot by the door, I watch her; her body language; those invisible tells that something might be amiss that she’s not talking about.
And there’s…
… Nothing…
Why?
Spy in the camp?
Bullshit.
Romano doted on her. Showered her in diamonds.
What can this woman conceivably have done to threaten him?
She glances up. Smiles. “There you are. I was beginning to think you were going to dissolve in that shower.” Her eyes drop back down to her book.
The Glock in my pocket, but cradled in my hand, “Miss Masterson, is there something you want to tell me?”
She flips over a page, flicks me a glance… “Didn’t we agree it’s Katya?” Then, frowning, “Tell you? Like what?”
My fingers curl around the Glock. “Anything you think I should know. Something that… perhaps… you didn’t like to mention.”
The book dropping to her lap, she looks at me properly. “I’m sorry?” Brow creased up now, “You’ve lost me, Hickman. What are we talking about?”
Floundering, I rub at my forehead. It doesn't clear the growing ache. “Nothing… springs to mind… you think I should know?”
“Hickman, I’m sorry, but I have no idea where you think this is going.” Her expression is clear of anything but a faint irritation.
Christ…
“Miss Masterson, why does Leone Romano want you dead?”
Her mouth opens and closes. Then opens again. “Hickman, my apologies. I misheard you.”
“You didn’t mishear me. Why would Romano order me to kill you?”
Her gaze drops to the hand in my pocket. For a moment she sits, stares, simply frozen. Then she stands, the book sliding from her lap. “Ordered you? He ordered you to kill me?”
“Yes.”
Disbelief wars with fear behind her eyes. Lips pinching, she takes a step back from me. “Leone gave you instructions to murder me? Not his brother-in-law? Or some other of Angelina’s family?"
I drop my eyes. When I raise them again, “The question is, why? What have you done? He says you betrayed him to Mancini. I’m sure that’s not true. So… what?”
Pupils pricking, she pants. Short breaths as she raises hands to her mouth. “You’re sure you’ve not made a mistake? You might have misunderstood him.”
“There’s no mistake. I’ll ask again. Why?”
“He said it was alright,” she whispers. “That he was pleased.” Her eyes well. “He said… He said…”
“Katya, whatever he said, Romano sent you away to die. I want to know why.”
