at any moment.
She took the long silver specimen case out of the inside pocket of her suit.
She put it on the bedside table, and turned Martha over. Her mouth and eyes were wide open. Blood was pouring from her neck. Xena put her gloved hand into Martha’s mouth and gripped her slippery tongue. It was swollen from her asphyxiation, but it came forward enough when Xena pulled it, hard.
Xena sliced at it, about halfway along. The knife was sharp. Blood pumped out of the raw pink stump. It filled the dead woman’s mouth and began drooling out.
Xena already had the tongue in the container and had slipped it back into her jacket pocket.
After washing and wiping everything she had touched, she headed for the fire exit stairs.
Two floors down she went back into the corridor and called the elevator. She got out a further three floors down.
She had no wig on when she arrived back at the room where Lord Bidoner was waiting. She simply looked into the room and headed for the street. Lord Bidoner followed her a few minutes later. They took separate taxis to Central Park and mingled with the tourists at the obelisk.
As they travelled back downtown together Lord Bidoner asked her, ‘Do you have it?’
Xena simply tapped her jacket pocket in reply.
28
The young policeman in his fluorescent yellow jacket looked at the tax disc on the windscreen, stared at Isabel for a few seconds, then let them through with a nod. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
‘That was your driving they pulled us over for,’ said George. ‘That’s the last time I take a ride with you.’ He laughed to himself, turned in his seat, and stared out the back window.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
She’d be lucky, she knew, to get anything useful out of him. He directed her to a parking space on a narrow street with five and six-storey red-brick mansions on each side. The empty space was well past the building he pointed out, where his apartment was, but that was his problem.
‘Women drivers, you’re useless,’ he said.
She’d had enough of his crap.
‘What kind of a sick bastard are you?’ She didn’t wait for him to respond. ‘You work with Sean, but you don’t give a damn what happens to him. Well, I hope you get what’s coming to you. You don’t deserve to be a part of the human race.’
He stepped back, examined her.
‘You think you did me a favour?’ His tone was taunting.
‘Those cops back there weren’t looking for drunks, darling. They were looking for drug dealers, pimps with sub-machine guns. You haven’t been to Kilburn in a while, have you? I bet you didn’t even notice the armoured vest that cop was wearing.’
She stared at him. The wind whistled around them. Above, great cloth-of-coal clouds were moving fast. Any second the hail was going to start again.
‘You think you deserve help because you look sweet? Well, stand in line, honey.’
With that he turned, walked away.
She couldn’t resist it.
She went after him.
‘This is your last chance to be a decent human being, George. The City of London police were at my house earlier. You better tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to call them, tell them that you’re up to your neck in whatever it is they’re investigating. And the first journalist who camps on my door, when all this gets out, is going to get your address and your phone number and every detail about how many calls Sean made to you.’ Her finger was shaking as she jabbed it towards him.
‘My, my, you are a fiery one, aren’t you?’
‘What’s happening at BXH, George?’
‘Don’t you watch any TV?’
‘As little as possible.’
‘Shame. You’re missing a lot of good programs.’
‘What’s happening with the merger, George? Is it under threat?’
He smiled, then his eyelids drooped.
‘Why is BXH’s share price crashing?’ She leaned forward.
‘It’s all about the money, honey.’
‘That’s it? What about Sean? He isn’t involved in
She took the long silver specimen case out of the inside pocket of her suit.
She put it on the bedside table, and turned Martha over. Her mouth and eyes were wide open. Blood was pouring from her neck. Xena put her gloved hand into Martha’s mouth and gripped her slippery tongue. It was swollen from her asphyxiation, but it came forward enough when Xena pulled it, hard.
Xena sliced at it, about halfway along. The knife was sharp. Blood pumped out of the raw pink stump. It filled the dead woman’s mouth and began drooling out.
Xena already had the tongue in the container and had slipped it back into her jacket pocket.
After washing and wiping everything she had touched, she headed for the fire exit stairs.
Two floors down she went back into the corridor and called the elevator. She got out a further three floors down.
She had no wig on when she arrived back at the room where Lord Bidoner was waiting. She simply looked into the room and headed for the street. Lord Bidoner followed her a few minutes later. They took separate taxis to Central Park and mingled with the tourists at the obelisk.
As they travelled back downtown together Lord Bidoner asked her, ‘Do you have it?’
Xena simply tapped her jacket pocket in reply.
28
The young policeman in his fluorescent yellow jacket looked at the tax disc on the windscreen, stared at Isabel for a few seconds, then let them through with a nod. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
‘That was your driving they pulled us over for,’ said George. ‘That’s the last time I take a ride with you.’ He laughed to himself, turned in his seat, and stared out the back window.
She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
She’d be lucky, she knew, to get anything useful out of him. He directed her to a parking space on a narrow street with five and six-storey red-brick mansions on each side. The empty space was well past the building he pointed out, where his apartment was, but that was his problem.
‘Women drivers, you’re useless,’ he said.
She’d had enough of his crap.
‘What kind of a sick bastard are you?’ She didn’t wait for him to respond. ‘You work with Sean, but you don’t give a damn what happens to him. Well, I hope you get what’s coming to you. You don’t deserve to be a part of the human race.’
He stepped back, examined her.
‘You think you did me a favour?’ His tone was taunting.
‘Those cops back there weren’t looking for drunks, darling. They were looking for drug dealers, pimps with sub-machine guns. You haven’t been to Kilburn in a while, have you? I bet you didn’t even notice the armoured vest that cop was wearing.’
She stared at him. The wind whistled around them. Above, great cloth-of-coal clouds were moving fast. Any second the hail was going to start again.
‘You think you deserve help because you look sweet? Well, stand in line, honey.’
With that he turned, walked away.
She couldn’t resist it.
She went after him.
‘This is your last chance to be a decent human being, George. The City of London police were at my house earlier. You better tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to call them, tell them that you’re up to your neck in whatever it is they’re investigating. And the first journalist who camps on my door, when all this gets out, is going to get your address and your phone number and every detail about how many calls Sean made to you.’ Her finger was shaking as she jabbed it towards him.
‘My, my, you are a fiery one, aren’t you?’
‘What’s happening at BXH, George?’
‘Don’t you watch any TV?’
‘As little as possible.’
‘Shame. You’re missing a lot of good programs.’
‘What’s happening with the merger, George? Is it under threat?’
He smiled, then his eyelids drooped.
‘Why is BXH’s share price crashing?’ She leaned forward.
‘It’s all about the money, honey.’
‘That’s it? What about Sean? He isn’t involved in
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