The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club #3)(41)

‘And this is where he lives?’ asks Joyce. ‘Viktor?’

‘That’s the information I have.’

‘Do you think he’ll let us have a go in the pool?

‘Do you have your costume, Joyce?’

‘I didn’t think to. Do you think we’ll be coming back any time?’

Elizabeth feels the weight of the gun in her handbag again. ‘Not for a while, no.’

They walk in through the huge double doors of one of the residential buildings, and make their way across the marble lobby, to the burnished walnut-and-copper concierge desk. The whole place feels very expensive yet deeply inoffensive, like a business hotel a divorcee might choose to kill himself in.

The concierge is very beautiful, East African, perhaps? Elizabeth gives her friendliest smile. She’s no Joyce, but she does her best.

‘We’re here to see Mr Illyich.’

The concierge looks at Elizabeth very pleasantly, but very certainly. ‘I’m afraid we have no Mr Illyich in the building.’

That would actually make sense, thinks Elizabeth. Viktor Illyich had a hundred names. Why use the real one here?

‘You’re very beautiful,’ says Joyce to the concierge.

‘Thank you,’ says the concierge. ‘As are you. Is there anything else I can do to help you today?’

Elizabeth’s phone buzzes. The Viking again. She looks at the message.

I hear you are in his building. Killing him at home is a nice touch. I look forward to hearing from you shortly.



How to get upstairs?

‘Have you ever used the pool?’ Joyce asks the concierge.

‘Many times,’ says the concierge. ‘Just to let you know, a member of our staff is on his way to escort you to the exit at your earliest convenience.’

‘I think I’m more impressed with it than Elizabeth,’ says Joyce.

‘Elizabeth?’ says the concierge. ‘Elizabeth Best?’

‘Yes, dear,’ says Elizabeth. Things are looking up.

‘Mr Illyich told me if an Elizabeth Best were to visit, to show her up straight away. He said she might also be called’ – the concierge looks down at a list – ‘Dorothy D’Angelo, Marion Schulz, Konstantina Plishkova or the Reverend Helen Smith. He also told me to watch and learn, because Elizabeth Best is the cleverest woman he has ever known.’

Elizabeth sees Joyce roll her eyes.

‘You didn’t think, when we walked in, asking for Viktor Illyich, that I might be Elizabeth Best? That didn’t cross your mind?’

‘I’m terribly sorry, no. The way Mr Illyich spoke about you, I thought Elizabeth Best must be a much younger woman.’

‘Well,’ says Elizabeth. ‘I used to be much younger, so you’re excused.’

‘Mr Illyich is in the penthouse. I will show you up myself.’ The concierge turns to Joyce. ‘And I will show you the swimming pool when you leave. There are spare costumes for guests.’

Elizabeth sees the delight on her friend’s face. There will be no swimming today. But they might need towels.

After the trip up in a lift the size of a suburban sitting room, Viktor Illyich answers the door himself, thanks the concierge, and lets Elizabeth and Joyce into his penthouse. He couldn’t look more thrilled to see them.

‘There she is! How did I get so lucky? How long has it been, Elizabeth?’

‘Twenty years?’ says Elizabeth.

‘Twenty years, twenty years,’ nods Viktor, and kisses her on both cheeks. ‘I look so terribly old. Don’t you think?’

‘You always looked terribly old,’ says Elizabeth.

Viktor laughs. ‘I did! Always! Finally I am old. Finally I make sense. Now, I think you are Joyce Meadowcroft?’

Joyce reaches out a hand, but Viktor kisses her on each cheek.

‘Lovely to meet you, Viktor,’ says Joyce. ‘Do you know they kiss three times in Belgium? I only found that out recently.’

Viktor smiles, and takes her elbow.

‘Please, come with me and sit. It is too cold to sit outside, but we can enjoy the view. I hope you like grey clouds and red buses?’

Viktor leads Joyce over to a sunken sofa which, hypothetically, looks out over a huge vista of London. The grey clouds obscure most of the view today. The only things near enough to be made out are the building sites of Battersea Power Station, as a whole new swathe of London takes shape on the banks of the river. Elizabeth follows behind them.

‘Joyce,’ says Viktor. ‘I think you would like a gin and tonic? That’s what I think. Tell me if I’m right?’

‘You’re right!’ says Joyce.

‘Then that’s what we will have. I am so happy to have you both here. Elizabeth, you will join us?’

‘Sit down, Viktor,’ says Elizabeth.

‘I will, I will,’ says Viktor. ‘Come on, I’m excited. Let me make the drinks, then we can sit and talk. Two old spies. We can make Joyce’s hair curl with our tales!’

‘Sit down, Viktor,’ says Elizabeth again, her gun now in her hand.





35





‘I speak, then you speak,’ says the producer. He is called Carwyn Price, and DCI Chris Hudson has been left in no doubt of that, because Carwyn Price likes to refer to Carwyn Price in the third person. ‘I speak, you speak; I speak, you speak; I speak, you speak.’