The Killer

FIFTY-EIGHT

London, United Kingdom

Thursday

04:02 CET

Reed stood next to his hotel-room window, peering into the city through the crack between wall and curtain. In the sliver of glass he could see the reflection of bare skin, limbs splayed on the sheets. The girl had her face toward the door, away from him, the golden waves of her hair spread across the pillow. The diffused light smoothed away what little imperfections she carried. Except to roll over, she hadn’t moved since he had climbed out of bed. He could see in the window the rise and fall of her chest, intermittent, not regular. Awake.

He took a sip from his drink as he watched her. In silence they had played this game for some time, of her pretending to sleep and his pretending not to watch. Reed slowly flexed the muscles of his arms from shoulder to wrist.

When she finally broke the silence, her voice was quiet. “Why are you watching me?”

Reed took another sip from his drink. “Why do you allow me to watch?”

She turned her head to look at him from over one slender shoulder. “Do you want to do me again?”

And she had displayed such elegance on arrival. Reed shook his head. He pivoted and leaned against the wall next to the window. It was cool against his naked back.

“I shall respectfully decline.”

She laughed. “I just love the way you guy’s talk.”

Reed found it quite derisory that his acute Englishness impressed her. She claimed to be twenty-one, but she was certainly younger. An Australian. He kept his contempt to himself and acknowledged her remark with a small nod. After finishing his London assignment Reed had remained in the city while he waited for the next update. The girl helped pass the time.

She reached for the remote and turned on the television.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

Reed shook his head once. “Be my guest.”

She flicked through the channels with barely a half a second’s pause on each. Her eyes were transfixed by the flashing images and constantly changing sound. He watched in quiet bewilderment of her simple pleasure.

There was a flash of blue in the dim light that immediately grabbed his attention. Reed walked to the source and took the smartphone from where he had left it on the sideboard. He opened the e-mail. He read the message carefully, then a second time before opening the attached files. He would go through them as soon as he had left. He started picking up his clothes from the floor.

“I have to leave,” he said.

She pushed her small breasts together with her arms and pouted. “You sure?”

“Alas, yes.”

To his surprise the girl looked genuinely disappointed. She sat up to better watch him dress. “Why?”

“Work.”

“But it’s late. Do you have to?”

“I’m afraid so.”

She sighed. “You never told me what you do.”

Reed’s answer was honest.

“I solve problems.”