Killing Eve: Bloodline (10)

The tenth episode of a new Killing Eve adventure, published exclusively on Substack

            It's seven pm, and Johnny Fernandes has just ordered a whisky and soda in the Polo Bar of the Indian Military and Sports Club. When the woman walks in, there's a faint but detectible stirring amongst the club's mostly male members. She walks the length of the room to a table beneath a window, a model of quiet chic in her tailored jacket and skirt.

            Johnny stands and extends a hand. 'Bili, what a pleasure. What can I get you.'

            'A dry martini, I think, Johnny.' She seats herself. 'Himalayan gin if they've got it.'

            'I'm sure they have.' He signals to a waitress and orders Bili's drink. 'How have you been?'

            'All the better for getting to know our mutual friend.'

            'So how did that go?'

            'Rather well, I think. I went to that gym, as you suggested, and on the third evening there she was.'

            'And...'

            ‘We went back to that awful flat.’ Bili smiles faintly. 'Where one thing led to another.'

            'You have footage?'

            'I do.' She hands over a small flash drive.

            'Excellent. So what did you glean from your... time together.'

            'Well, that she still very much carries a torch for the Russian, and has no time at all for her partner, Mrs P. In fact she responded favourably to the idea that I inflict some sort of harm on her, but made it clear that she doesn't know where either of them are. I gave her a contact number, and she said she'd let me know the moment she found out. Which she hasn't yet done.'

            Bili's martini arrives, and she sips it appreciatively. 'Mm. That is really very good. Thank you.'

            'My pleasure. What do you think she thought of you?’

            'That I was who I was pretending to be. A cheerfully unsophisticated young woman, recently arrived in this country.’

            'What did you think of her?'

            'Reckless, for an intelligence officer. I got the impression that ours was by no means her first extra-marital adventure.'

            'Did you like her?'

            'She is… weirdly alluring.'

            'Don't tell me you've fallen under her spell.'

            'No, but she definitely has something. And I’d guess you underestimate her at your peril.'

            Johnny raises an eyebrow. 'I'll take your word for it.'

            'She successfully enticed the Russian.'

            'The Russian didn't take much enticing. At that stage.'

            'And now?'

            'Very much à deux with Mrs P.'

            'Hence our friend's distress. And clouded judgement.'

            'So it seems.'

            Bili finishes her drink. 'I should go.'

            'I can't talk you into one more?'

            'I have to get to the Wigmore Hall. I'm meeting a friend.'

            'What's on?'

            'It's a Schubert evening.' She stands. 'I'm a fan.'

            'Have fun. And let me know if...'

            'I will. The moment I learn anything.'

            When she's gone, Johnny orders himself a second whisky and soda, and drinks it reflectively. As he signs his bar-bill, he asks the waitress her name, and learns that it is Uttara. 

 

            At half past ten, the car draws out of the drive into Kensington Palace Gardens. Dimitri is at the wheel, next to Villanelle, who has pinned her hair up in a French roll. Eve and Valentin are in the back. It's a warm night, and for a while they proceed in silence.

            'Do we look all right?' Eve asks eventually. 'For your friend's party, I mean?'

            Valentin glances sideways at her. 'You look perfect,' he says. 'Beautiful.'

            In the front seat, Villanelle tenses. Eve tries to catch her eye but Villanelle stares straight ahead.

            'And the birthday boy. Nate Paget,' Eve continues. 'He was at school with you?'

            Valentin nods. 'Yes. Nice guy. No great brain. Wants to go into politics.'

            'Do you have any long-term plans?'

            'My father has plans for me.'

            'That's not quite the same thing. Is it?'

            'Not quite, no.'

            'What would you like to do if it was completely up to you?'

            'I'd... this is going to sound incredibly lame.'

            'Tell me.'

            'I'd like to be an artist.'

            'What kind of artist?'

            'I'd like to draw and paint birds. Wild birds. I actually already do that, but...' He shrugs, and looks away.

            Eve persists. 'Why birds?'

            'I've always loved them. It just seems so magical to me that a creature can fly.'

            'What's your favourite bird?'

            'Probably the lapwing. If you watch them in flight they're extraordinary, swinging through the air on these soft, wide wings. It's... I don't know. My life's not really my own. It never has been.' He turns his head abruptly towards the car window. The sulphur-yellow light of the Bayswater Road washes across his pale features.

            'In what sense?'

            'I'm in my family's debt,' he says, and rolls his head back towards Eve. His face is in shadow now, but she feels his gaze. 'You know I'm adopted?'

            'No, didn't.'

            'I'm not even a real Dominik. I'm a kukushka, a cuckoo. I wasn't born to this life.'

            Before Eve has time to react, Dmitri pulls into Upper Brook Street, and draws up outside an illuminated, pillared doorway. Stepping out of the car, Eve feels a cool breeze on her shoulders, and smells autumn in the air. Valentin touches a key fob to the intercom, and they are inside. 

            Eve gazes about her. The club is extraordinary. It's as if a manned space vehicle has crashed into an Edwardian country house. The lighting fades from acid green to soft peony pink, highlighting erotic paintings, stags' antlers, futuristic sculptures and tumbling floral displays. From somewhere beneath the floor comes a deep, pulsing bassline.

            Valentin catches Eve's eye. 'The tiniest bit over the top, would you say?'

            'Maybe the tiniest bit.'

            'It's one of my favourite clubs. The door policy's quite severe, so it's not overrun with the wrong kind of people. If you know what I mean.'

            'I hope I'm not the wrong kind of person.' Eve says.

            'How could you be?' He smiles. 'You're here.'

            Villanelle surreptitiously but viciously pinches Eve's bottom, and when Eve turns, stares at her furiously.

            'What?' Eve mouths.

            'You know what.'

            'No.' Eve's eyes widen. 'I don't.'

            Villanelle bares her teeth. 'Stop. Flirting. With. Him.'

            'Is everything OK?' Valentin asks.

            Eve smiles. 'Everything's perfect.'

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