Reckoning Point, стр. 10
Her feet move of their own accord, as if displaced from her body. All thoughts of Brigitta have vanished now as she sidesteps the tourists and tracks Lev down the road.
All the while, she’s aware that her breathing is heavy but controlled, her steps are light, her eyes are sharp; she is the very epitome of stealth.
And the hunter is now the hunted.
9
LEV
SCHEVENINGEN
3.7.15 Lunchtime
Lev strides down the street, covering ground and distance easily and swiftly. He hums a Pink Floyd song, spitting out lyrics when he remembers them, something about teachers leaving kids alone and bricks in walls. He smiles, bopping his head to the beat, gleeful at the happiness that he feels here. And he got the apartment, that magical number 1058 is now his, and in his jubilation he does a little dance move as he walks.
He knew it would be perfect as soon as that woman told him about the murders. He has thought about tracking down more information on this Monaghan. Maybe his new neighbours will have more information. Not her, the nosy neighbour, but someone else, someone more like Lev himself.
But right now, he is checking out his new territory, for if he is planning to enjoy himself here in a way that might not be seen as socially acceptable, and get it away with it, and then repeat it, it is very important that he knows every alleyway, street and towpath. He has bought a street map from a shop in Javastraat, and he will study it later, but for now he wants to get a feel of the place.
He had taken the tram as far as Frederikstraat and his plan was to make his way back to his new apartment, giving himself another glance at the outside before moving in tomorrow. Now, almost back at the beach, he swings a left on Gevers Deynotweg, and makes his way over the tramlines to his new home.
To his consternation the plump woman is hanging around at the bottom of the stairs, talking rapidly into a mobile phone. Lev changes direction, but too late, she spots him and hangs up on her call.
“Hey, you, did you take the room?” She walks slowly over to him, rocking from side to side, looking to Lev as though her weight needs momentum to reach him.
He stops, reluctantly. “Yeah, I did.”
“Oh, well, that’s good. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, neighbour.” Her smile is coquettish, Lev realises with alarm.
He makes a non-committal noise and starts to move on, but she’s still talking.
“So when are you moving in?”
“Couple of days,” he replies and this time, though she is still poised for conversation, he walks away.
“I’ll look out for you, save you a cup of sugar, sugar,” she calls, her words ending in a tinkling, high pitched laugh. “My name’s Joy.”
Don’t hold your breath, Joy, he thinks as he makes his way across the streets criss-crossed with tram lines and lets out an involuntary shudder. She was leering at him, who does she think she is to behave like that? And Lev knows that he’ll have to be careful around Joy, her flirty behaviour could push him far enough to do something very stupid. He reminds himself of his rule, and has an uneasy feeling that he will have to keep telling himself that she’s off limits, especially for what he has in mind, though she would have the perfect body for it, all that skin …
He watches the local folk as he sits on the tram back to The Hague and is surprised by their behaviour. As soon as anyone elderly gets on the locals jump up and offer their seat. The same thing happens for women with prams or small children. Sometimes three or four people get up to offer their chair, and Lev knows that he has come to the right place. The people who live here are kind, considerate and most importantly, they are trusting.
Off the tram and back at the hotel, he muses further as he packs his bags ready to leave and move into his new home. It crosses his mind that he could walk out of here and move across town without paying his bill. But after careful consideration he dismisses the idea. He has work to do here in Holland; he does not want to be imprinted on anyone’s mind as anything other than a gentleman. He wants to fit in; outwardly he will be just like his countrymen; kind, considerate and trustworthy.
Inside, and in private, well, that will be a different Lev altogether.
10
ROLAND
5th January 2000
I watched Mark Braith at that party. He had a confidence about him, but it was different to that of my three Irish friends. They wanted everyone to have as good a time as they were having, they wanted to see everybody happy and dancing and fucking and drinking. Mark Braith, there was something different about him and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. So I settled myself into a corner and observed him.
I was very good at going unnoticed; it hadn’t been hard to learn either, being neither sexy nor funny, nobody really paid much attention to me unless they needed a job doing.
Mark Braith was a local, I could tell that from his accent and the way that everyone in the room seemed to know him. Again, here was a difference in how he was treated. The women didn’t drape themselves over Mark the way they did with the three brothers. They were respectful, as were the men. Instead of enveloping him in a bear hug, they shook his hand, practically bowed at him. I wondered what made this man so special.