Killing Ground (66 page)

There's a tighter rein on Rome now. You know how it all started? Of course, you don't.

You should know. Last December, the week before Christmas, there was a traffic accident in Palermo, a minor shunt. A uniformed, low-grade cop took the details. Held up in the queue behind the shunt was a carabiniere officer, an undercover man. The shunt involved a Seven series BMW - it's always amusing when a big BMW gets a shunt. The officer listened, and he heard the name of Giuseppe Ruggerio, and he knew that name. It was that much of a chance. He dug, he made the link with the name. Hear me, there's a bagful of agencies that would have been interested to know that Giuseppe Ruggerio was living in Palermo, but he didn't share. He went his own way, he came to us, to Axel Moen. The carabiniere officer should have shared you, and did not. We should have shared you, and did not. You were just part of a selfish little game, you were a figure that was moved across a board. It shouldn't have been asked of you.

Maybe you don't want to hear that, it's not your problem. What you should think, it was a good result.'

Would he leave her? Would he, please, get the fuck out?

That's heavy sort of writing, Miss Parsons, but it is what I believe. I thank you for your courage. I value what you gave me, more than you can understand. I wish you well in your future.

May your God watch over you.

Faithfully,

Axel Moen

'I appreciate you feel sore, us losing your letter. That's a very pretty watch. You should trash the other one, put it all behind you. You got the cheque?'

The cheque had reached her, had been cleared, was in her account.

'You shouldn't take offence at the time it took. You were very patient. The problem with any sort of money order that comes out of federal funds - well, you know how things are. Has to go through a jungle of committees, and there's a joker on each of them who wants to have his say. If it's not impertinent, what are you going to do with the money?'

She was starting next week at Edinburgh University. She was joining the law school.

The teaching was just to fill in the time, relief work. She had chosen Edinburgh because it was about as far from the south Devon coast as she could get. The course was for four years, commercial law. It was not impertinent of him to ask - she thought that a course in commercial law would open doors for her, provide good opportunities. Would he, please, pass her thanks to the committees who had authorized the payment to her?

'That's, if you don't mind my saying so, a very positive step. I don't think there's anything more. Good evening, miss.'

She watched him drive into the distance and the lights of the Jeep speared up the hill of the lane.

She left her schoolbooks on the front doorstep, under the porch.

She rode her scooter away from the bungalow. She took the coast route. The night was close around her.

She went to the place above the cliffs. She could not see in the darkness if the peregrine perched on its rock. She heard the crash of the waves below her . . . He had come back to her. The children made a circle and held hands and they danced around an old man with clear blue eyes. He was with her. The children danced faster and the old man spun with them until he fell. She had no more need for the power he had given her, nor for the story he had made for her, nor for the lie he had fashioned for her. He watched her and he willed her to do it. Charley took the watch from her wrist, felt the cold weight of it . . .

He was there, he listened, he waited.

She threw the watch, with her love, into the night, into the emptiness beyond the cliff, into the void above the sea.