creased. He’d propped his spectacles up on top of his head and his eyes were puffy, pupils blown.
He smiled blearily as he laid her new banking cards, driver’s licence and passport on the counter in front of her like he was spreading a deck of playing cards. He added an embossed card containing a National Insurance number as well as a birth certificate. Everything was in the name Kate Elizabeth Ryan.
‘Disappearance 101. Consider this your starter pack.’
‘What about money?’
‘I’ve placed a small amount of funds in a current account for you. Your own cash is shuttling between banks and jurisdictions. Once it’s stable, I’ll send you more details.’
Becca leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. She was freshly made up and dressed in a scooped pink blouse and Capri pants, her hair kinking out in lush brown coils.
‘How are you feeling, honey?’
‘Groggy.’
She winked. ‘And how was last night?’
Kate got what she was really asking but she wasn’t about to play the game. She tore off a chunk of breakfast roll and popped it in her mouth.
‘I slept OK.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, once you’re done eating, I’ve picked out some contact lenses for you to try. Brown tint. Right now, your eyes are kind of a pow. We have to dial them down a couple of notches.’
Kate felt the breakfast roll bulge in her throat. She washed it back with coffee, wondering if there was going to be anything of her left before the day was through.
A door swung back at the far side of the room and Miller stepped out of the bathroom. He had on a blue shirt with white stripes over faded blue jeans. There was a towel coiled round his neck, his hair was damp and his head was tilted to one side as he patted his ear dry.
Kate found herself wondering what he’d look like clean-shaven, with his hair clipped short, dressed in a fitted suit. Then she was struck by the realisation that perhaps he used to groom himself that way. He’d told her that he was in hiding, too, so it stood to reason that he’d need his own disguise. Maybe the mountain-man aesthetic was something Becca was responsible for.
‘Hey, you’re up.’
‘Mm-hmm.’ Kate looked down into her coffee. She could feel a burn in her cheeks.
‘Hanson, do you have the information I asked for?’
‘Hey, Hanson,’ Hanson said, in a pretty good imitation of Miller’s gruff baritone. ‘ Great job on Kate’s new ID. I know you haven’t slept, and I’m being totally unreasonable, but why don’t you show me what else you have?’
He circled behind his tables of computers and tapped a key to wake a desktop, then swivelled the monitor for them all to see. Displayed onscreen was a washed-out photograph of the man Kate had shot. She could tell by the gory hole in the man’s throat and the black balaclava rolled up on his forehead.
She set her breakfast to one side.
‘If I’d had a little longer, I’d have more to go on. But this is definitely our guy.’
Hanson hit another button and a fresh image appeared in a new window. He lined the photographs up next to one another. The second image was a side profile of the same man, showing him in a suit and tie, opening the rear door of a dark saloon car in the middle of a city street. It was fuzzy and looked like it had been cropped from surveillance-camera footage.
‘Ooh, he’s cute,’ Becca said, and when everyone turned to her, she added, ‘What? I’m talking about the before image, obviously.’
‘Keep going,’ Miller told Hanson, ‘before she says something distasteful.’
‘His name is Ivan Pavlenko. Russian KGB. An active field agent with multiple kills against his name.’
Kate felt herself teeter on her stool.
‘Nah, just messing with you, Kate.’ Hanson grinned at her stupidly. ‘His real name was Duncan North, an ex-squaddie from Peterborough. Low-level scumbag.’
‘That’s supposed to be funny?’
‘North has served time for GBH. This shot was taken from outside Connor Lane’s central
He smiled blearily as he laid her new banking cards, driver’s licence and passport on the counter in front of her like he was spreading a deck of playing cards. He added an embossed card containing a National Insurance number as well as a birth certificate. Everything was in the name Kate Elizabeth Ryan.
‘Disappearance 101. Consider this your starter pack.’
‘What about money?’
‘I’ve placed a small amount of funds in a current account for you. Your own cash is shuttling between banks and jurisdictions. Once it’s stable, I’ll send you more details.’
Becca leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. She was freshly made up and dressed in a scooped pink blouse and Capri pants, her hair kinking out in lush brown coils.
‘How are you feeling, honey?’
‘Groggy.’
She winked. ‘And how was last night?’
Kate got what she was really asking but she wasn’t about to play the game. She tore off a chunk of breakfast roll and popped it in her mouth.
‘I slept OK.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, once you’re done eating, I’ve picked out some contact lenses for you to try. Brown tint. Right now, your eyes are kind of a pow. We have to dial them down a couple of notches.’
Kate felt the breakfast roll bulge in her throat. She washed it back with coffee, wondering if there was going to be anything of her left before the day was through.
A door swung back at the far side of the room and Miller stepped out of the bathroom. He had on a blue shirt with white stripes over faded blue jeans. There was a towel coiled round his neck, his hair was damp and his head was tilted to one side as he patted his ear dry.
Kate found herself wondering what he’d look like clean-shaven, with his hair clipped short, dressed in a fitted suit. Then she was struck by the realisation that perhaps he used to groom himself that way. He’d told her that he was in hiding, too, so it stood to reason that he’d need his own disguise. Maybe the mountain-man aesthetic was something Becca was responsible for.
‘Hey, you’re up.’
‘Mm-hmm.’ Kate looked down into her coffee. She could feel a burn in her cheeks.
‘Hanson, do you have the information I asked for?’
‘Hey, Hanson,’ Hanson said, in a pretty good imitation of Miller’s gruff baritone. ‘ Great job on Kate’s new ID. I know you haven’t slept, and I’m being totally unreasonable, but why don’t you show me what else you have?’
He circled behind his tables of computers and tapped a key to wake a desktop, then swivelled the monitor for them all to see. Displayed onscreen was a washed-out photograph of the man Kate had shot. She could tell by the gory hole in the man’s throat and the black balaclava rolled up on his forehead.
She set her breakfast to one side.
‘If I’d had a little longer, I’d have more to go on. But this is definitely our guy.’
Hanson hit another button and a fresh image appeared in a new window. He lined the photographs up next to one another. The second image was a side profile of the same man, showing him in a suit and tie, opening the rear door of a dark saloon car in the middle of a city street. It was fuzzy and looked like it had been cropped from surveillance-camera footage.
‘Ooh, he’s cute,’ Becca said, and when everyone turned to her, she added, ‘What? I’m talking about the before image, obviously.’
‘Keep going,’ Miller told Hanson, ‘before she says something distasteful.’
‘His name is Ivan Pavlenko. Russian KGB. An active field agent with multiple kills against his name.’
Kate felt herself teeter on her stool.
‘Nah, just messing with you, Kate.’ Hanson grinned at her stupidly. ‘His real name was Duncan North, an ex-squaddie from Peterborough. Low-level scumbag.’
‘That’s supposed to be funny?’
‘North has served time for GBH. This shot was taken from outside Connor Lane’s central
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