The Hunter's Prayer (14 page)

‘I told you before, no payments.’ She didn’t even see him draw his gun, just heard the sudden ear-cracking of the shot, a sound so violent it startled her. When she recovered, she looked at Novakovic. He was lying on his back, his body contorted and in tight relief against his T-shirt, forced that way by the obstacle of his own arms handcuffed behind him. It reminded her of one of those Michelangelo statues they’d seen in Italy, a dying slave—except for his face, mashed with blood, stripped of form, no longer looking human.

She felt more satisfied than she’d expected, having erased the only extant memory of her family’s final moments and death. And she knew also now that the struggle she’d been having between the desires for justice and revenge had been a false one.

This had been both. In her mind, she wanted justice for her family but in her gut she wanted revenge, and both were measured on the same scale, achievable by the same means. And though she’d finally broken the law, she knew she’d done right.

Novakovic was dead but she felt an uncontrollable urge now to hit him, to spit on him, or to do what Lucas had done, to fire a bullet into him. A part of her wanted to feel what it was like, but more than that, she wanted in some small way to claim this first act of revenge for herself. She felt a mix of shame and excitement at the thought of it, but she wanted his blood on her hands.

Lucas was still holding the gun at his side. She held out her hand and said, ‘Do you mind?’

He seemed puzzled and glanced at the body as if to make sure he was dead. Then he gave her the gun. Holding it in both hands, she aimed at the bloody mess of Novakovic’s head. She closed her eyes as she started to squeeze the trigger, but forced herself to open them again.

The noise and force of the shot still came as a shock, and she didn’t see if she’d hit him. His face didn’t look any different so she turned to Lucas and said, ‘Did I hit him?’ He nodded and reached out to take the gun from her. ‘Thanks. I’m sure it seems sick but . . .’ She felt weak suddenly, like a blood-sugar dive, ambushed in mid-sentence by a shakiness and a swell of emotion. She tried to rally herself, not wanting Lucas to think it had anything to do with seeing Novakovic killed. ‘I had to.’ That was all her voice would allow.

‘Sure.’ He put the gun away and walked out. Once they were sitting in the car, he said, ‘Don’t ever ask me to do that for you again.’

She wasn’t sure why he was unhappy with her. ‘I thought that’s what we came here for. And I didn’t ask you to do it for me. I asked you to do it for my family.’

‘I appreciate that, but don’t ask me again. I’m finished with killing people.’ He started the car and pulled away.

‘But what about when we find the person who . . .’

‘I’ll make an exception, but only the one. This is revenge, not therapy. You need to work something out of your system, join a gym.’

‘Sorry.’ She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing, except that she felt chastened, uncomfortable with the thought that she might have earned his disapproval. She didn’t know what he expected of her, but she was disappointed that she’d fallen short in some way.

Trying to move the conversation on, she said, ‘You were pleased when he told you who’d sent him.’

‘Bruno Brodsky. He’s a fixer, based in Budapest. Some of these people can be slippery but I’ve known Bruno a long time; he’ll tell us what he knows.’

‘So we’re going to Budapest?’

‘There’s no need for you to go. I thought you’d want to see the killer.’ He laughed. ‘And boy, did you want to see him. But there’s no reason for you to see Bruno.’

‘I want to. I mean, I’ll only sit here wondering otherwise. And I wanna hear what he’s got to say because I wanna understand. I need to know everything.’

‘Okay. There’s no reason you shouldn’t come if you want to. I’m warning you, though, don’t even think of asking me to kill Brodsky. He’s a middleman, that’s all, and he’s going to help us find who ordered the hit. You have to respect that.’

‘I will.’

They were back on the road now and she relaxed into her seat. She was strangely content, fulfilled. They were getting somewhere. Lucas seemed to be having doubts, maybe out of some desire to shield her. She was certain he’d come around, though. He had to, because she was determined these people would pay for what they’d done, all of them, and she could see no reason to make an exception for Bruno Brodsky or anybody else.

Chapter Fourteen

L
ucas sat in the limousine. Ella’s flight from London had landed so he didn’t expect her to be long. He’d considered going to see Bruno before Ella arrived but had stopped himself. The way she’d acted with Novakovic had thrown him but that was no reason to start cutting her out of the loop.

He’d tried to imagine himself in her position. She’d led a sheltered life, only to see her security violated, so maybe she deserved a little hunger for revenge. And it had been born out of love, a love for her parents and brother that he couldn’t begin to comprehend.

He could think of only two people in the world he’d be that desperate to avenge and yet one of them couldn’t bear to look at him and the other barely knew he existed. That didn’t leave him in much of a position to judge Ella for her bitterness.

The door opened and she got into the back seat next to him, smiling, saying hello, a few words about the flight. She was wearing a vaguely oriental-looking trouser suit, still casual but smarter than he was used to seeing her.

They chatted on their way into Budapest, about her flight, about the city, but all she wanted was to see Bruno. When they got to the hotel, she said, ‘I’ll just take a quick shower and get rid of my bags. Half an hour?’

‘Sure. I’ll wait here.’

The lobby was modern and spacious. He took a seat on the far side, next to two portholes in the wall that looked in on a large aquarium with a reef and tropical fish. For a while, he looked out at the businessmen and well-heeled tourists who occupied a handful of the other tables in the lobby. When he tired of looking at them, he turned to the coral reef behind the two portholes.

He’d been staring at it for a few minutes, studying the movements of the fish, before he realized it wasn’t one large aquarium but two separate tanks next to each other, the sides of each mirrored to produce an appearance of continuity.

Right now a large silver fish with yellow fins was looking at its own reflection, mesmerized. It was the only one of its kind in the tank but there was another in the neighboring tank, an isolation that seemed profoundly cruel.

None of these fish, no matter how sentient they might be, could have any concept of the other tank’s existence, let alone the existence of tropical oceans far away. It disturbed him, and then it disturbed him more to look around the lobby and see all these people, none of whom had even noticed it.

He’d read enough books to know why it troubled him, to recognize it as a metaphor for his own life, life in general. That made it no less disturbing, though, no less full of truth. He was left feeling restless and full of urgency, as if he’d suddenly realized that he didn’t have enough time, that with every passing minute it was becoming too late.

Yet here he was, being pulled back into the world he’d supposedly rejected, sitting in a hotel lobby in Budapest, waiting to meet Bruno Brodsky. It was like he’d thrown away the last four years, justifying Madeleine’s rejection of him in the process.

Ella had changed when she came back down. It took him a second to recognize the sarong-style skirt, the one they’d bought in Florence, the one she’d worn on the journey to Switzerland. He’d been vaguely attracted to her back then. Now he found her almost like someone with a scent of illness about her. ‘It’s a nice day; I thought we’d walk to Bruno’s.’

‘Sounds good. I could do with the walk.’ She looked over at the portholes and for a moment he thought she’d say something about them, but she looked away blankly. That was the point, he supposed—that people weren’t meant to show an interest, merely to register them as part of the relaxing ambiance. It made him want to shoot the place up.

It was a nice walk to Bruno’s, the city warm, full of light, lively. It was looking good too—moneyed, the way it always should have been. Ella seemed impressed, drinking it all in like a tourist, pointing things out to him, a glimpse of the Ella he’d encountered at the beginning of the summer, the girl who’d been lost somewhere in the intervening grief.

At one point she said, ‘Chris and I were gonna come here this summer.’

‘I know.’

‘Of course.’ She laughed and said, ‘If you’d told me then that this is how I’d finally visit Budapest! Kind of like
To the Lighthouse
.’

He nodded and said, ‘Virginia Woolf—boy, am I glad she’s dead.’ Ella laughed again. He liked to see her laugh. ‘It’s just along here.’

‘Oh, right.’ As he pressed the buzzer for Bruno’s apartment, she said, ‘Do you know for sure that he’s here? Perhaps he’s away.’

Lucas kept listening for a pickup at the other end but shook his head and said, ‘As far as I know he hasn’t been out of the city in twenty-five years; that’s when his wife died. He visits her grave every morning, without fail.’

‘So he’s quite old?’

Lucas took a moment to work out where she was coming from before saying, ‘No, no, she died when they were both really young—he’s only about fifty now.’

She nodded towards the intercom and said, ‘Doesn’t look like he’s in, though.’

‘No.’

‘How did she die?’

‘I don’t know. I never asked.’ He looked around, wondering which of his haunts to try first, spurred finally by the feel of the sun on his face. ‘Terrace of the cafe at the Gellert—that’s where he’ll be on a day like today.’

He started walking and she said, ‘You seem to know him pretty well.’

‘I know his routine.’ He couldn’t be sure of that anymore, though, and was beginning to think he should have done some checking before coming out here, to feel nervous of looking amateurish and out of touch.

They picked up a taxi and as soon as they got out at the Gellert, he knew he should never have doubted himself. He could already see Bruno sitting on the terrace to the left of the main entrance, talking away into his phone, doing business.

He looked like he’d lost some weight but he was still a big guy, wide and heavy-boned. His hair was thinning too but still so black it looked like it had been dyed. He looked pretty healthy, tanned, relaxed as he chatted away.

He kept talking as they approached but glanced up and then seized, muttering something into the phone before ending the call. Lucas knew what he was thinking and was impressed by how calm he looked under the circumstances.

He didn’t say anything until Lucas had reached the table and then simply, ‘Is this it?’ It almost made Lucas feel nostalgic for the past, for the power he’d had over people’s lives.

‘No. How are you, Bruno?’ Only now did his nervousness show, his hand shaking as he reached for his iced tea, a twitching smile struggling to take control of his face. A waitress walked over as they sat down and Lucas said, ‘Iced tea for me, please.’

‘Make that two,’ said Ella.

Bruno finally laughed and said, ‘I wish you’d called first.’

‘I don’t think that would have been a wise move. Do you?’

‘Potentially not. I’m hearing nothing about you for over two years and then the grapevine is telling me you’re the one who interferes with one of my jobs in Italy. Three good people.’

‘They weren’t that good.’

Bruno shrugged and said, ‘Could be so. Two Albanians. The young Italian, he could have shown some promise. But I expected a bodyguard, not a Lucas.’

He felt a slight twinge of unease because the young Italian really had shown some promise, slipping undetected beneath his radar. But it was buried by something more significant: the fact that Bruno had expected a bodyguard.

‘You knew she’d have a bodyguard?’

Bruno looked confused for a second and said, ‘Not before the job started, but obviously, somebody took the two Albanians down—I didn’t think it was a member of the public.’

‘Oh.’ Lucas gestured towards Ella and said, ‘This is the job I interfered with.’

Bruno was clearly captivated. ‘So you’re Ella Hatto. You look different from your pictures. Prettier. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He shook her hand. Ella looked uncomfortable and Lucas realized how inappropriate this whole conversation was. ‘Also, I’m sorry about your family.’

‘You ordered their murders.’ Her voice was forceful, full of indignation.

‘I arranged them. That might not seem a distinction to you, but it is. And I am sorry.’ The waitress arrived with the drinks, a welcome diversion, and then Bruno lifted his glass and said to Lucas, ‘To business.’

‘To retirement.’

Bruno laughed and said, ‘I don’t think so. It’s like soldiers—old hitmen never die; they simply disappear.’

‘Who killed my family?’

He looked at Ella, acknowledging the interruption with a small nod, and said to both of them, ‘That’s why you’re here?’

‘That’s why we’re here,’ said Lucas. ‘The calling in of favors.’

‘I wasn’t aware I owed you any.’ He smiled and said, ‘It was all done anonymously. Payment came from a numbered account. But you’re in luck. I recognized the number, you know, a familiar pattern of digits. So I’m curious to know who this was and I check my records.’

‘Who was it?’

Lucas had asked the question but Bruno looked at Ella as he said, ‘The contract to kill your family, and you also, came from London, from Larsen Grohl.’

She turned to Lucas. ‘Have you heard of him?’

Before he could answer Bruno said, ‘Not
him
. Larsen Grohl is a company, corporate security. They’ve used my services on two previous occasions, not for contracts, just security personnel in the East. For those two occasions, the man who contacted me was named Cooper. This last time, of course, no names.’

Lucas said, ‘So it’s unusual for this company to take a contract, even for a client?’

‘It’s my experience. Okay, maybe they’re using other people on other occasions but why come to me for this job? No, this is a departure, which I think makes life easier for you.’

‘Maybe so,’ said Lucas. ‘I’ll need that bank account number.’

‘Call me later, but Lucas, please be quiet about this. If it had been a regular client, you know I wouldn’t have given it to you.’

‘Sure.’ He looked out briefly at the mix of tourists and locals strolling to the thermal baths. There they were with their towels and bags, oblivious—he didn’t know whether he envied them or not. ‘So long, Bruno.’ He shook his hand and got up. Ella seemed surprised, caught mid-gulp. She stood quickly but Bruno remained in his seat and they didn’t shake hands.

‘If you do come out of retirement, you’ll call me first?’

‘Better for both of us if I don’t.’ He hesitated, giving Ella the chance to say something if she wanted to. But she simply walked back toward the waiting taxis and Lucas wondered if she fully appreciated how useful Bruno had been to them.

In the taxi she said, ‘Don’t believe in hanging around, do you?’

‘I did say there was no need for you to come.’ It was true, though: he was in a hurry, like he could feel the time running out.

‘No, I don’t mind. So what now?’

‘I’ll make some phone calls, find out about Larsen Grohl. We’re getting close; it’s a big break Bruno’s given us.’ He could see she was unhappy. And he knew why: because they’d left Bruno happy and healthy on that sunny cafe terrace and she couldn’t deal with it. She couldn’t understand why they were leaving him unpunished, why they weren’t repaying him for the death he’d so efficiently delivered into the Hatto family home. ‘What’s troubling you?’

She looked out the window at the river, then back to him, hesitating. ‘I know he’s helped us and I know what you said in London. But surely you understand how it makes me feel to sit and listen to him joking with you about business. Business! Killing people. How can I not hold him responsible?’

‘If someone dies in a plane crash you sue the airline, not the travel agent who sold the ticket.’

‘You do if the travel agent knew the plane would crash.’ Lucas was annoyed with himself for coming up with such a feeble analogy. Maybe she was right anyway; maybe revenge should be merciless and unyielding and he’d been in the business too long to keep sight of that.

He thought of Isabelle, a child he’d given too little thought to during her lifetime. And yet with only the recent locket memories he had of her—walking down the street, sitting in a cafe with friends—he knew that he’d want the same kind of revenge if anything happened to her.

Ella wanted Bruno dead because she’d loved her family and he’d arranged their deaths. Lucas wanted to deflect her from that course, though, for his own selfish reasons, because he didn’t want to get dragged back in any further than he had to go.

‘All I ask is this. Let’s find out who ordered the hit and deal with them first. Avenge your family through them, and after that, if you still feel people like Bruno Brodsky should die too, then so be it.’

She nodded and said, ‘Okay, but I want a gun to keep in my room tonight, like before.’

‘You don’t need a gun,’ he said, alarmed by the possibility that she was thinking of doing this on her own.

‘How do you know that? For all we know, the contract is still on my head. Brodsky knows I’m in Budapest; he could see it as a chance to clear up unfinished business.’

‘I doubt it, but if it makes you happy I’ll bring one to your room when we get back.’ Still suspicious, he added, ‘Did you want to do anything this evening? River cruise, opera, dinner?’

She smiled and said, ‘I think I’ll just have dinner in my room and have an early night. I’ve got a few hours before my flight in the morning—I might do some sightseeing then.’

‘Sure.’ She was lying badly, and it saddened him and left him suspicious that she’d been lying to him since she’d called for his help.

Anger had made her want to see Novakovic dead but he wondered if her urge to shoot him in the head afterwards had been for practice, a premeditated dry run for the acts of revenge she imagined performing.

‘Lucas?’ He turned to her. She looked defiantly like the innocent he’d first encountered. ‘If you’d been paid to kill me, would you have done it?’

‘Until four years ago, without even hesitating. Then I became picky, then I got out altogether. Helping your dad was a special favor. So is this.’

He thought she might acknowledge what he’d said, maybe thank him, but she said, ‘What happened four years ago?’