The Third Woman. Mark Burnell

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СКАЧАТЬ and then halts.

      Please, no.

      My right hand searches for the grip. A window lowers.

       ‘Small world.’

      For a moment I’m too dazed to say anything. It’s Robert Newman.

       Behind me, and above us, there are more sirens. Decision time. What if there is no other way out?

       ‘Need a ride?’

      This can’t be right.

       But I smile sweetly anyway. ‘Sure. Thanks.’

       I climb into the back of the Audi, which is not what he’s expecting. He looks over his shoulder and says, ‘You can sit up front if you like. I promise I won’t …’

      Which is when he sees the gun.

       ‘Drive.’

       ‘What the …’

       ‘Trust me – you don’t have time to think about it.’

      He glances up the ramp.

      I thrust the tip of the Sigma into his cheek and yell: ‘Drive!’

      He accelerates towards street level.

       ‘Where to?’

       ‘Right. Go right.’

       ‘I can’t.’

      ‘What?’

       ‘It’s one-way.’

       ‘Then go left!’

       ‘And after that?’

       ‘Just do it! And whatever happens, don’t stop. If you do, I swear I’ll kill you.’

      We reach the ramp. He pulls out, past the black Renault, past two police cars, blue lights aflame. Officers hover on the street, a crowd gathers. I keep the gun out of sight. A young officer, eager to get us out of the way, waves us past. I peer through the rear window as the Lancaster recedes. At boulevard Haussmann we turn right.

      How did they get there so quickly? Yesterday at Passage du Caire, it was the same; uniformed police officers only moments away. I close my eyes. When I open them, I see him in the rear-view mirror.

      ‘Where are we going?’ he asks.

       ‘Nowhere. Just keep moving. And don’t do anything stupid.’

       ‘Looks like I already have.’

      ‘Pull over.’

      It was a quiet street off place de la porte de Champerret, just inside the périphérique. When Newman switched off the engine they could hear the rumble from the ring road. Almost an hour had passed, most of it in silence. Stephanie had tried to think but had found she couldn’t. There were too many competing questions. She couldn’t separate one from another, couldn’t focus on a single coherent thought. Gradually, however, Petra had emerged and cold clarity had replaced panic.

      ‘Put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them. Don’t take them off.’

      The street was empty. She tightened her grip on the gun and shifted her position so that she had a less awkward angle.

      ‘Okay. Who are you?’

      ‘You know who I am. Robert Newman.’

      ‘Believe me, your next cute answer’s going to be your last.’

      ‘I don’t know what else to say.’

      ‘Well you better think of something. And quick.’

      ‘My name’s Robert Newman. I’m a businessman.’

      ‘We meet at the bar then you’re driving up the ramp. Explain that.’

      He shrugged. ‘I can’t.’

      ‘Coincidence?’

      ‘I guess.’

      ‘I don’t believe in coincidence. You and Scheherazade Zahani – that must have been the quickest date in history.’

      Newman flinched at the mention of her name. ‘I wasn’t there to meet her. She just showed up. She was meeting a friend who’s staying at the Lancaster.’

      ‘Another coincidence?’

      He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it. Stephanie leaned forward and pressed the tip of the Smith & Wesson into the back of his neck, just above the collar.

      She said, ‘Let me explain something to you. Whoever you thought I was at the bar – she doesn’t exist. She never did.’

      ‘Look, I was due to meet someone. He called to cancel right after you left.’

      ‘I’m going to give you one more chance.’

      ‘See for yourself,’ he snapped, reaching inside his jacket.

       ‘Stop!’

      Newman froze. And then clamped his right hand back on the wheel. ‘Jesus Christ! Take it easy!’

      ‘What did I tell you?’

      ‘I know what you said. I was just going for my cell phone. So you could see. The number, the time.’

      Stephanie focused on her breathing for a second. Anything to slow the pulse. A couple were walking towards them, arm in arm, heads shrouded in frozen breath, hard heels clicking on the pavement. Stephanie placed the gun in her lap and shielded it with the black leather bag.

      ‘I need to disappear,’ she said.

      ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

      ‘Where do you live?’

      ‘Île Saint-Louis.’

      ‘Alone?’

      He hesitated. ‘Yeah.’

      ‘I’m going to ask that again. If we get there and there’s someone to meet us I’m going to kill them, no questions asked. So think before you speak. Do you live alone?’

      ‘Yes.’

      The couple strolled past the car.

      ‘Give me your wallet.’

      ‘It’s СКАЧАТЬ