Killing Eve: Bloodline (19)

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

            Eve is asleep in her room when Villanelle rings from the hospital. For a moment Eve is disoriented. The daylight has faded and rain is beating steadily against the window.

            'What's happening?'

            'Valentin’s up, and feeling better. Nikolai and Anastasia are here. And you'll never guess who also showed up.'

            'Tell me.'

            'Balice.'

            'How lovely for you.'

            'She brought some guy with her. A police close-protection officer.'

            'For her, or for Valentin?'

            'For him.'

            'So how was Balice? Looking cute?' Eve can feel the anger knotting inside her.

            'Don't, babe.'

            'Did you talk to her?'

            'Yes. Although it was difficult with Nikolai and Anastasia there. I took her outside in the corridor and asked her straight. That night, on the bridge, was she trying to kill me or you.'

            'Oh my God. What did she say?'

            'She said that she would never hurt me.'

            For a moment, Eve can't quite breathe. 'So what did you say?' she whispers.

            'I told her to go. I told her that she was lucky to be alive, and that if she ever harms you in any way again, or tries to, I'd tear her fucking throat out.'

            'That probably turned her on. Crazy bitch.'

            'She's gone, detka.'

            Eve breathes out. 'OK. Right. I'll just have a shower, then I'll come to the hospital.'

            'You'll find our friend under Valentin’s bed.'

            For a moment Eve wonders what she's talking about, then realises that Villanelle is referring to the Pernach automatic, formerly owned by the GRU officer Denis Borzhko, that she spirited away from the Poodlefaker club.

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            Valentin is back in bed by the time Eve gets there, but looking stronger and less pale. His parents have left, and Balice's police guard is sitting outside the room, playing Candy Crush on his phone. He's a large guy, tough and grizzled, and as Eve reaches under the hospital bed for the shoebox containing the Pernach handgun, she wonders what his precise brief is. Does it include reporting back on her and Villanelle?

            'Did you eat the sandwiches Oxana made you?' she asks Valentin.

            'To be honest I didn't have an appetite, so she ate them. I still don't think I could face hospital food.'

            'I've brought supper from the house. You should eat something.'

            He smiles. 'I'll try.'

            She's brought a picnic basket. Warm blinis and fresh dill folded in a napkin, a large tin of Royal Siberian caviar, two lemons, a chilled tub of soured cream, plates, spoons and knives.

            'You're such a star, Eve. You didn't bring any vodka, did you?

            'I didn't. Your parents would kill me. And the vodka would probably kill you.'

            'Well, thank you anyway.'

            'It's just what was in the fridge.'

            'I hope Oxana appreciates you. She's a lucky woman.'

            'She is. Shall we eat?'

            Ten minutes later, Valentin lays his knife on his plate and sinks back against the pillows.

            'Better?' Eve asks.

            'Much better.' He hesitates. 'What I said about going to Russia...'

            'Mmm?'

            'I know I said I was up for it, but that was for my dad. Truth is, I'm dreading it.'

            'I guessed.'

           He gives her a wry smile. 'Do you think if I sent a sick note, they might call the whole thing off?'

            'I think that, in a horrible kind of way, your haemophilia is good for them. It's your guarantee of authenticity.'

            'But I'm not authentic. Not even slightly.'

            'You have Romanov blood in your veins.'

            He nods despondently. 'That's true. But it's also a fantasy. You can't turn back history.'

            'You'd be a symbol. A living symbol.'

            'Of what?'

            'Of reconciliation? Of a return to the old values.'

            'Which old values?'

            'Honour, tradition...'

            'That's bullshit, Eve, and you know it.'

            'I do. But I also know that it would play strongly to a certain sector of the Russian public. Strongly enough to make all the difference to Anna Volkonskaya.'

            'You know what all this comes down to, in the end?'

            'Tell me.'

            'Money. It all comes down to money.'

            Eve takes the last blini, adds a dollop of caviar, and tops it with sour cream. 'Well, you're the economics whizz.'

            Valentin watches as she bites, and momentarily closes her eyes. 'It doesn't take a whizz to see how much leverage Nikolai and his people will get if Anna becomes president of Russia. And how much of a financial advantage. But honestly, Eve, would you describe my father as a happy man?''

            Eve considers. 'You know him better than I do.'

            'He says I have no ambition. That I don't appreciate the advantages of my situation. But that's not true. I have strong ambitions. Just not the kind he understands.' He inclines his head towards the window, and gazes out at the grey, rain-swept cityscape. When he turns back to face her, it's as if he's cast away the last of his masks. 'I have to trust you, because there's no one else. I can't do this. I can't be the symbol you were talking about. I can't do any of it.'

            Eve looks back at him, and for a long moment they both remain motionless. Then anxiety pierces her like a shaft of ice. Walking to the door, she looks out. The police officer and his Candy Crush game have gone. An unoccupied chair stands at a slight angle to the wall. For a few moments Eve reviews the possibilities, envisaging the man lumbering down the corridor towards the toilets, but she quickly dismisses these thoughts. Stepping back into the room, she pulls out her phone. Villanelle answers within seconds. 'Come now,' Eve says. 'Trouble.'

            'On my way. Shall I call Mr Green?'

            'Yes.'  Eve is momentarily reassured by the reference to Johnny Fernandes. She pulls the loaded Pernach from her jeans pocket, and feels its warm weight in her hand. In the high-tech hospital bed Valentin is lying back, drowsy-eyed, against the pillows. Eve's heart pounds. She knows exactly who she's up against. Gyorgiy Peskov, who despite his injuries has somehow escaped from police custody, and is now in this building, waiting to complete his mission.

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           Please hurry, my love. I'm alone here, so sick with fear that I can barely function. I have no doubt that Peskov, when he's finished with the police bodyguard, and before he makes off with Valentin, will kill me. How he will do these things, incapacitated as he is, I don't know, but he is clearly a man of resourcefulness and determination. He will find a way. Will I be able to defend myself? I check, but there's no lock on the door. A reinforced glass panel provides a seventy-five percent sightline down both directions of the corridor. I thumb the Pernach's fire selection catch from safe to fully automatic. When it happens it will happen fast. Hurry, my love. Hurry.