One of Us Is Dead

69 Wednesday 12 October 2022

‘Kill him?’

It was the way Paul said the words that shocked her the most. There was no emotion, just pure matter of fact. He could have been talking about cancelling a magazine subscription.

‘What exactly do you mean kill him, Paul?’

‘Is there some part of those two words you don’t understand, my gorgeous?’ he replied with an inane, almost simian grin. His voice sounded a little woozy from too much whisky. In a short while, he would be even more woozy after pouring that bottle of Corton-Charlemagne 2008 — which was currently on ice — to go with their evening meal of lobster salad.

She looked at him, feeling almost as if she was seeing him properly for the first time. As if up until now, beneath his carapace, she’d felt there was actually a decent person, just with very skewed morals. But she wasn’t thinking that any more.

‘Kill. Him,’ Shannon said, with perfect enunciation. ‘I understand both words perfectly, Paul. Explain something to me, you’re a linguist, aren’t you?’

‘A linguist? Me?’

‘You speak French, Spanish and German.’

‘Ein bisschen,’ he replied with a knowing grin.

‘What does that French expression le petit mort actually mean? I know that literally it means the little death. It refers to making love. Is it that the male falls asleep after coitus? Or is it that some men die on the job, as it were?’

‘I’m not quite sure of your point,’ he said.

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now we’re on the same page.’

‘On the same page? But different dictionaries?’

Shannon cocked her head and sipped some Champagne from her round glass. ‘Five minutes ago, we were talking about arranging the accidental death at sea of Toby Carlisle, who clearly is a shit. He fits your profile, or your moral code, he’s legit — in your warped view of what is legit.’

‘Warped view?’ he challenged, feigning a pained look.

She ignored him. ‘Now, having killed one of your Three Musketeers, you want to kill the other? Is this how you reward friendship?’

‘This is not a good time to go moral on me, Shannon. We have a major issue we have to deal with.’

‘Clearly.’ She drained her glass, walked over to the fridge, removed the bottle of Billecart-Salmon and emptied what was left into her glass.

‘What exactly is your problem?’ he asked.

She rounded on him, trying to hold down her pent-up fury. Fury at herself for allowing herself to have been so much taken in by him. And fury at his sheer callousness as the body count continued to rise. At the same time, she felt afraid of him. Afraid of this man who was her lover but was also a monster she felt she no longer knew — or perhaps never had known.

‘You know what my problem is, Paul. I signed up to this life because I thought you had principles. What I believed was your moral code. I never loved it but I tried my best to understand it, and because I love you, I went with it. But the more time I spend with you I’ve begun to realize that was all bullshit, you don’t actually have a moral code. You’ll sell guns to anyone who’ll pay your price. You will kill for anyone who will pay your price or kill anyone who might be a threat to you. What happens to me if I ever become a threat to you? Will I have a fatal accident too?’

He stared at her with what looked like genuine astonishment. ‘That’s what you really think? You know, Shannon, you ask a lot of questions.’

‘Because the more I know you, the more questions I have.’

‘I thought you were enjoying — you know — us,’ he said.

‘I was. Before I knew what you were really like. I should have guessed then, when Professor Llewellyn died.’

‘I thought it was what you wanted.’

‘I wanted him to suffer for what he did, but it wouldn’t have crossed my mind to kill him. Someone — I don’t know who — once said there are only two tragedies in life. The first is not getting what you want. The second is getting it, and that’s the real tragedy.’

‘I’ll tell you who said that,’ he replied with a triumphant smile. ‘Oscar Wilde!’

‘You surprise me.’

He smiled. ‘I’m full of surprises. So what surprises you about my knowing Oscar Wilde?’

She had to think for a moment. About the way to express it. The surprise was that he could be so brutal, callous, a cold-hearted killer one moment, then show himself to be cultured in another. ‘How well do you know his work?’

‘I did a thesis on him at school. I’ve always liked the bad boys.’

‘So you’ll know Wilde also said that each man kills the thing he loves?’ She looked at him pointedly. ‘Are you going to kill me one day too? Professor Llewellyn, Dermot Bryson, Tracey Dawson. Toby Carlisle. Then Shannon Kendall?’

He raised his hands. ‘Hang on, you’re now objecting to Toby Carlisle?’

‘Toby Carlisle is fine. But I’m telling you, I don’t want you killing James Taylor.’

‘It’s too dangerous not to, babe. Just as it’s too dangerous to stay still. We have to protect our backs, always. That asshole Barnie Wallace was taking photos of me. The police will be interrogating his camera, phone, computer. At some point, they’re going to figure it’s me and they’re going to be able to work out roughly where I am. And it’s not going to take them long to know that you are shoulder deep in this operation too. We’re not in the business of being nice to people, we’re in the business of not getting caught, whatever that takes.’

‘I’m telling you I don’t want you to kill him.’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ He gave her a look so full of arrogance she felt like throwing something at him. He stood and walked, a little unsteadily, over towards the bottle in the ice bucket. And suddenly looked so damned attractive. And hurt. Or was hurt her imagination?

God, she felt conflicted. Intoxicated on a combination of the Champagne and being in his presence.

‘Look, Paul, I am getting near breaking point here. I’m beginning to think I don’t want to be in this business any more.’

‘Well, as I’ve said before, don’t you think it’s a bit late for that?’ He lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and wiped it with a cloth.

She stayed silent.

‘Shannon? Come on, Shannon, talk to me.’

After some moments, to hell with it, she dropped the bombshell she’d been waiting to land. ‘I know about Fiona, and I know about your secret past.’

He spun around to face her. ‘How — how the hell? I mean, what do you know about Fiona?’ He was clearly flustered and frowning deeply. ‘You bugged me?’

She gave him a knowing smile, saying nothing for some moments, and could see that infuriated him.

‘You bugged me, right?’ He raised his voice to almost a shout.

‘I worked for three years programming espionage software. I was just being diligent. I know you are bound together by this pretty big secret, am I wrong?’ she said, glaring at him questioningly.

To her surprise, he backed off and seemed even to relax a little. Almost as if glad it was out in the open.

‘If you know about that, then, yes, we do have a big secret, but that is all, Shannon. I swear Fiona and I are not an item, and neither of us would want to be back together in any other way than for business.’

‘So you’re not fucking her then. That’s good to know. But there’s a small matter here that’s a bit awkward. From what I’ve discovered you’re supposed to be dead.’

He looked shocked. ‘That can never get out. Never. You, me and Fiona are the only ones who know this. We are all in it together and could destroy each other.’ He paused. ‘But we won’t, will we? Because then we’d all be fucked.’

Shannon sat there a while, smiling. Grinning. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’

‘What? What the hell’s so funny?’

‘How we’re the three now!’ she replied.

‘What do you mean? What three?’

‘The three of us now bound together. All for one and one for all, united we stand, divided we fall.’