Killing Eve: Bloodline (21)

The twenty-first episode of a new Killing Eve adventure, published exclusively on Substack

            Eve and Johnny watch as Villanelle leads Valentin towards the lifts.

            'I'm handing this situation over to Balice,' Johnny says, scanning the hospital corridor. 'I called her as soon as I got here. She can take the credit for stopping Peskov. She'll probably spin it as a counter-terrorist operation. And she can clean up the mess.'

            'Don't you have clean-up people?' Eve asks. She forces herself to smile at two figures hurrying past in surgical scrubs.

            'Of course we do. But Balice's career could do with a boost right now.'

            'Are you serious? Why would you give a damn about her career?'

            Johnny regards her thoughtfully. 'Because although she doesn't know it, she's a Twelve asset.'

            'How so?'

            'We've attached one of our people to her. Attached in the most brazen way possible. It was quite a coup.'

            'Explain.'

            'They're getting married.'

            'You're shitting me.'

            'Not at all. You'll meet her. A very smart young woman.'

            'And you say she’s marrying Balice? While reporting to you?'

            'Precisely.'

            Eve shakes her head. 'I have no words.'

            'But you can understand why I told Oxana that she couldn't kill Balice.'

            'Oxana asked you if she could do that?'

            'Yes. She'd just found out - from Balice herself, I think - that the bullet on the bridge was meant for you, not her. Oxana was... actually, she was very quiet, just a bit pale. But she had that steady look in her eye.'

            'I know the one.'

            'She said to me: 'I need to kill Balice.' She told me why. And I knew she was deadly serious.'

            'And?'

            'I told her no. Under no circumstances. And not to make a thing of it with you.'

            'Did you tell her what you've just told me? That Balice is your asset. Indirectly.'

            'No, it wasn’t the moment. I reminded her that Balice is a British intelligence officer. I told her that the British never forgive, and never forget, and that if she killed her, Balice’s people would hunt her to the ends of the earth. Which would mean saying goodbye to any life that the two of you might have planned together.'

            'So how did she take that?'

            'She saw the logic, I think.'

            'Trouble,' Eve says. 'Coming towards us on the left, in the white coat. That's Dr Sen. She's going to want to go in and check on Valentin.'

            'Leave her to me,' Johnny says.

            Eve waits nervously as Dr Sen approaches, and comes to a halt in front of them.

            'Do you mind?' she looks at Eve and Johnny testily. 'I need access to this room.'

            'I'm afraid that's impossible for the time being,' Johnny says.

            'Excuse me?'

            'I'm afraid you can't enter.'

            'Really? I’m a senior physician here. Who might you be?'

            'Metropolitan Police, ma'am.'

            'Can I see some identification?' Dr Sen glares at him.

            'That won't be necessary. I'll be taking over here,' says Balice, sweeping into view from behind them. She holds out a laminated card attached to a lanyard.

            'Home Office,' Dr Sen reads. 'May I ask why-'

            'You may not,' Balice says. 'Please leave us. Now.'

            'My patient's in there.'

            'Your patient has discharged himself.'

          Frowning, Dr Sen takes a phone from her coat pocket. After a brief conversation she slowly replaces it.

            'Now leave us,' Balice says, and watches, unmoving, until Dr Sen is out of sight. She flicks a glance at Johnny. 'I'm glad you called me. It was the smart thing to do.'

            He inclines his head courteously.

            'I need to check that it's definitely our man in there. Could you ensure I'm not interrupted?'

            'Of course.'

            Balice turns to Eve. 'You. In here with me, please.'

            Eve follows her into the room. From the mid-point of the anti-slip vinyl flooring, to which he is now glued by congealing blood and tissue, Gyorgiy Peskov stares sightlessly at the ceiling, the police-issue Glock inches from his hand.

            'Nice,' Balice says, touching a finger to the bullet hole in the bedside monitor. 'All your own work?'

            Eve nods.

            Balice peers at the corpse. 'Well, it's definitely our GRU officer. I'll call housekeeping.'

            As Balice stands at the window, murmuring into her phone, Eve stares at the brain spatter on the wall. With its drying blood-trails it looks like a giant brown jellyfish. She longs to be out of the place. The last twenty-four hours seem to have lasted forever. When Balice pockets her phone, Eve walks to the window and stands beside her. Balice smells faintly of jasmine scent.

            Eve sniffs. 'That's nice. What is it?'

            'Chloé. Nomade.'

      

            'I know you tried to kill me,' Eve says. 'And I want you to know, just for the record, that Oxana doesn't give a shit about you. She never did, and never will. You were just... sex. She's mine.'

            'You're welcome to her. I've other fish to fry.'

            'Charmingly put. Is that gorgeous nose the one you were born with, or have you had help with it.'

            Balice narrows her eyes.

            'I'm just asking.' Eve stares out over the rain-blurred city.

            'Girl to girl, I might be prepared to admit to a little work.'

            'How much would it cost me, a procedure like that.'

            'Put it this way. You're not going to see much change from twenty grand.'

            'Right. Well, in that case...' Drawing back her fist, Eve drives it as hard as she can into Balice's face. There's a crunching of cartilege and broken bone, and Balice sinks to her knees, blood running through the fingers covering her shattered nose. Eve watches her for a moment. 'I'll see you around, OK?'