Ian Rankin [Jack Harvey 02] Bleeding Hearts (v4.0) (pdf)

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The question threw him, so I smiled reassuringly. We re still
wondering if maybe the assassin mistook her for Mrs.
Prendergast.
I see what you mean, Lainie wearing the kind of clothes
Prendergast would normally wear. He nodded to himself.
Well, I know one thing, she did like to empathize with her in-
terviewees, and that could sometimes mean dressing like them.
As to favorite colors . . . He shook his head. The best I can
come up with is bright colors, reds, blues, yellows. Primary
colors.
I nodded. I d been told to look for yellow and blue. I stared
at Draper, trying to see something behind his eyes, some inkling
of guilt. But where was his motive? No, there was nothing there.
What about Mrs. Prendergast? Bel inquired suddenly.
What about her? Draper asked back.
She s a public figure, and she s tough, plus she s got an in-
terest in the cult. Draper still didn t get it. She might be per-
suaded to take over where Ms. Ricks left off.
Draper leaped to his feet. I thought he was going to vault the
desk, but he just leaned over it toward Bel.
Brilliant! he shrieked. That s fucking brilliant! He slapped
the desk with both hands and shook his head wildly. He was
somewhere in the hinterland between laughter and tears. That
is just so brilliant. Why didn t I think of it?
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Ian Rankin
Bel s look toward me confirmed she thought this a tautology.
Draper couldn t get us out of there quick enough, but all the time
trying to be polite. He had his hand on Bel s shoulder and one on
my back. He was telling her to think about fronting his docu-
mentary series.
All right, she said, I ll think about it.
You d be a great loss to the force, I told her as we left.
Outside, I headed for the first newspaper kiosk I saw, and
bought up several of the dailies. I wanted more on the Tottenham
shoot-out. I didn t think Harry would have said anything, but
how could I be sure? Without a trip to Tottenham, the answer
was, I couldn t.
I told Bel she deserved some time to herself, and managed to
press �50 on her, which in Knightsbridge would just about pay
for a passable lunch. Then I headed north. I knew this was one of
the most stupid things I d ever done, but I couldn t talk myself
out of it. One thing I did know was that if I was going to meet
Hoffer, I didn t want Bel around. No matter that she was my best
form of camouflage, I d promised she wouldn t be in danger.
Before we separated, she made me make a phone call.
Afterward, I said I d see her back at our hotel. She kissed my
cheek, and I pressed a finger to her chin. She didn t tell me to be
careful, but I knew what she was thinking.
All the way to Tottenham, I found myself doing something I
never ever do. I thought of the past. Not the distant past, I don t
mind that, but the more recent past, and my life as an assassin.
Well, what else was I going to do with my life? I d never fancied
being deskbound, but the army weren t going to have me. As a
teenager I was clever but easily bored, and I was frustrated that I
couldn t play soccer or rugby. I did try to take part in games
sometimes, but the other kids knew about me, and they wouldn t
come near. They were being kind in their way, I suppose, but I
couldn t see it at the time. All I saw was that I was different. I
started to spend more time on the gun range, and I acquired a
marketable skill.
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Bleeding Hearts
My father had started me off, despite my mother s warnings.
He was a top-class target shooter himself. He started me with air
pistols and air rifles, then we moved up to real ammo, small cal-
iber at first. Funny to think those afternoons of bonding had led
me here.
Here, thinking about my victims.
I had never had much of a conscience. Like I say, everyone
bleeds. But then I d missed a target and killed an innocent girl.
That was when word started to go round that I was losing it. I d
cried about that girl. I d sat by a hotel swimming pool in the
Bahamas and played it through in my head, over and over again, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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