Killing Eve: Bloodline (16)

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

'The goal of Sanctify,' Nikolai says, 'is to secure the election of Anna Volkonskaya. We need her to unseat Tikhomirov, and we need to make her invulnerable to any efforts by his people to unseat her. For that, we need massive popular support. We need to control the narrative.'

            He looks around him. Valentin is leaning back in his chair, his long legs crossed, his expression at once melancholy and resigned. Eve is looking concernedly at Villanelle, who is staring at the untended bed of lavender. 'Valentin tells me that you’re aware of his origins, and the fact that the holy blood of the Romanovs flows through his veins.’

            'The tainted blood of the Romanovs,' Valentin says. He inclines his head towards Eve with a weary smile. 'Did you know that haemophilia was once known as the royal disease, because it ran through so many of Europe's ruling families.'

            Eve lays her hand wordlessly over his. Villanelle glances at her briefly.

            'It’s your cross, and you bear it bravely,' Nikolai says. 'You know that Anastasia and I pray daily that a cure will be found.'

            'I know,' Valentin says. 'It just doesn't seem to work though, does it? Prayer, I mean.'

            Nikolai bows his head. 'The Romanov name will never be forgotten. It’s inscribed in the hearts of the Russian people.'

            'Not all of the Russian people,' Villanelle says, just audibly.

            'No, you're right, Oxana. Not all. But even the most fervent anti-monarchist is aware of its power. Could I ask you both to take out your phones, and search for an image of Anna Volkonskaya.'

            Eve does so. Multiple photographs reveal her to be a tall, fashionably-dressed young woman with sharp brown eyes, rimless glasses, and a determined tilt to her head. Eve passes her phone to Villanelle, who nods.

            'When the election gets under way next month,' Nikolai continues. 'Valentin will be at Anna’s side. In the Russian press, and amongst the Russian people, the word will spread concerning his holy bloodline. He will be Volkonskaya's consort and soon, God willing, her husband.'

            Eve's mouth opens. She stares incredulously at Nikolai. 'May I ask Valentin how he feels about this... this obligation?' she asks.

            'Please do.'

            She turns to Valentin, but his expression is unreadable. There's profound feeling there, but whether it's anger, apprehension or irony she can't tell.

            'I accept it,' he says quietly. 'It's the part I was born to play, if that doesn't sound too... Zendaya.'

            'You’ve met her? Anna?'

            'I have. I like and respect her very much.'

            Eve glances at Villanelle, who gives her a deep, unblinking gaze which Eve immediately recognises. She falls silent and the two of them stand. 'Thank you for confiding in us,' she says to Nikolai. She nods to Valentin. 'We'll be upstairs.'

---

---

            'So,' Bili says. 'I haven’t been completely truthful.'

            She and Balice are sitting at a corner table in a nondescript pub in Lambeth, South London. Bili is wearing a gym singlet, and her hair is damp. Balice has come straight from her Vauxhall office, and is dressed accordingly.

            'I was sent to spy on you,’ Bili continues. ‘To entrap you.'

            'I know you were.'

            'How?'

            'Because this is my world.'

            'So why did you...'

            'Why does anyone?' Balice shrugs fatalistically. 'What is it that you want?'

            Bili swirls her mineral water. 'I want you to be happy.'

            Balice frowns. 'Excuse me?'

            'You heard.'

            'I don't know what you mean, Bili? If that's your real name.'

            'It is my real name. And I do come from Targovishte. I'm just not the person I pretended to be.'

            'Go on.'

            'I was recruited to do undercover work in the course of an interview with the Home Office, when I first applied for British citizenship.'

            Balice takes a deep pull of her gin and tonic. 'Seriously?'

            'Seriously.'

            'Well, that wasn't my people. I hope you know that.'

            'I do now.'

            'Let's backtrack. First off, why do you want British citizenship?'

            'I like it here. I can be who I am.'

            'You can't in Bulgaria?'

            'No.'

            'So who approached you at the Home Office, and how?'

            'I was taken into an office. There was a man and a woman. They said they could fast-track my application if I... undertook certain tasks.'

            'Why you, do you think?'

            'They could tell that I was smart and resourceful. I spoke perfect English. And I was vulnerable.'

            'Everyone in that situation's vulnerable.'

            Bili shrugs.

            'Did they say who you'd be working for?'

            'British Intelligence.'

            'And did you ever find out who you were actually working for?'

            'No. But when I was told by my handler to entrap a senior MI6 officer, I began to wonder.'

            'What was his name, this handler?'

            'He called himself Johnny. Johnny Fernandes.'

            Careful, Balice. Be very careful. This could be the Twelve playing a long game. Planting an agent right next to me. Johnny Fernandes has my measure, clearly, and Bili could have been made for me, she's exactly my type. But instinct tells me she's sincere. She gave up Fernandes. That's a very high card to play, and it's not the Twelve's way of doing things. They don't sacrifice their own, because they know they'd never get people to work for them if they did. I so badly want to believe her. She has the strangest effect on me. She's not brutal like Villanelle. She doesn't have the same annihilating sex-power (and how does big-bum deal with that, I wonder). Perhaps I want to be more than just prey. Bili is so alive, so completely in-the-moment, the air seems to vibrate around her. Ultimately, it's a judgement call. Do I trust her this time round?

---

 

---

           Balice sits there, motionless. Finally she smiles. 'I'm glad you've told me the truth, Bili.'

            'I felt bad for you.'

             Balice nods. 'So...'

            'Yes?'

            'What do you mean exactly, you want me to be happy?'

            'Balice, you picked me up, a total stranger, in a gym. You thought I was some naive guest-worker no-one would ever know about. You got really drunk. You wanted me to pretend to be your ex. You clung to me like a child, all night.'

            Balice seems to sink in her chair.

            Bili leans forward. 'I told Johnny what we did. I told him about the Russian woman and Mrs Polastri. I didn't tell him how lonely you were. How desperate.'

            'Good, because I'm not either of those things.'

            Bili shrugs. 'OK, you're not.'

            'So what is it you want?'

            'I want to work for you.'

            'You want to double for MI6? Against Fernades and his organisation?'

            'No. I want a job with MI6. A proper office job, with my own coffee mug and  a pension plan.'

            'Bili, you're not a British citizen.'

            'I could be.'

            'It takes time. They don't just hand out UK passports.'

            'They would if I was married to a UK citizen...'

            'Like who?'

            'Like you. Obviously.'

            Balice stares at her. 'Bili, I'm already married. Besides-'

            'You're not happy. You don't love him.'

            Balice lifts her hands defensively. 'I...

            'We'd be perfect, Balice. You know we would. Just divorce him. He's fucking his assistant anyway.'

            'You're crazy.'

            'No, you're crazy. Living a life that makes you unhappy. When you could be so happy with me.' She reaches for Balice's drink, takes out the lemon peel, puts it in her mouth, and starts to chew. 'I want you, OK?'

            Balice looks at her. Takes in the wide-set gaze, the strong hands, the cheetah-like stillness. 'OK,' she says.