Killing Eve: Bloodline (25)

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

The daylight is fading as Eve walks up the lane. The rain stopped an hour ago, but the hawthorn and elderberry bushes are bowed and heavy, showering her as she brushes past them. Above her the trees, steadily dripping, are dark against the sky. Now that she’s here, Eve feels profound misgivings. Has she read a meaning into Oxana’s note that was never there?

There’s a churchyard fringed with yews, and beyond it a gate. Eve follows the path through the gate into the farmyard, past high barns and the rusting hulk of a tractor, and into the flat, grey-brown landscape beyond. The shepherds’ huts stand, half-hidden by wet foliage, at the edge of a field of wheat-stubble. They look deserted, and Eve’s shoulders droop. This journey was a pointless waste of time. There’s no hidden message in the note, and now she must trudge back to the station in her damp shoes and return to London, to that oppressive, faintly sinister house. There, she will have to explain herself to Nikolai and Anastasia - and in the course of time Johnny - who will all, quite understandably, be very unhappy indeed. Valentin will still be missing. And so will Oxana.

She turns away from the huts, and surveys the fields. Narrowing her eyes, she scans the horizon. In the summer you could see the sea, a long knife-gleam of blue between land and sky, but now it’s invisible in the vapourous twilight haze. A skein of geese, wings beating as one, moves across her line of sight. She watches until they’re gone, and readies herself for the walk to the station. Then she hears a snapping twig, and the faint spatter of falling drops as the bushes part behind her. Strong arms enclose her, and a damp cheek is pressed to hers.

‘You came.’

‘Of course I came.’

---

---

The Swallow is a spit-and-sawdust village pub smelling of wet dogs and beer. As Valentin orders drinks and hot food at the bar, Oxana and Eve establish themselves at a corner table.

‘You definitely left both phones in London?’ Oxana asks.

‘Angel, please.’

‘I’m sorry, babe. I know you know what you’re doing.’

‘I know that we’re going to have the whole world on our tail when-’

‘When they find out we’ve skipped off with their Romanov prince?’

Eve nods. ‘There’ll be the Twelve, MI6, Volkonskaya’s people, the Dominiks…’ She takes off her wet coat, drapes it over the back of her chair, and sits down. ‘But why, my love. Why did you do this?’

‘Because…’ Oxana tilts her head thoughtfully. ‘Because I knew that, deep down, you hated what we had to do.’

‘Deliver Valentin to the wolves?’

‘Yes.’

Eve stares at her. ‘So you just… took him and ran? Knowing what the consequences would be?’

Oxana nods.

Eve looks from the steady grey eyes to the scarred cheekbone and spiky, disarrayed hair. ‘You amaze me, angel. You always will.’

Valentin lowers the drinks to the table. He’s unshaven, and wearing an old waterproof jacket. He has an artist’s portfolio slung over one shoulder. ‘I wanted to show you these,’ he tells Eve.

There are perhaps two dozen drawings, a few in pencil but mostly ink. Some have been worked and reworked - a hovering kestrel, an egret poised over water - and some appear to have been dashed off in seconds. A battalion of crows mobbing an owl, lapwings taking flight, a buzzard turning on the wing. ‘They’re beautiful,’ Eve tells him. Valentin smiles self-consciously, drink in hand, and it occurs to her that it’s the first time she’s seen him look truly happy.

---

---

In her London flat, Balice is lying on the sofa in Bili’s arms, absently stroking Alice, who is sitting, swollen-bellied, on a cushion beside her. All three of them are watching Strictly Come Dancing on the wide-screen TV.

‘I think you should enter this show,’ Bili says. ‘It would be good for MI6’s image.’

‘I don’t think the public want to see someone like me tripping over the feet of some chiselled guy in a see-through shirt, babe. It wouldn’t inspire confidence. Like, how’s she going to protect us from Russia if she can’t tell her left foot from her right? Besides, I haven’t got time.’ She settles herself against Bili’s shoulder. ‘Apart from work, I’ve got a wedding to organise, remember?’

‘I was thinking about that. What do you think about Westminster Abbey?’

‘Perhaps somewhere more intimate?’

‘It’s a pity we can’t ask Eve. She’s good at that sort of thing.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘Arranging stuff.’

‘I’m not involving that madwoman in our wedding. Apart from anything else, she’s disappeared, along with…’

‘Along with?’

‘Oxana Vorontsova. And the Dominik boy. They’ve all vanished.’

‘So why do you care?’

‘Because… It’s complicated.’

Bili stiffens. ‘You’re still in love with her?’

‘Who?’

‘You know who.’

‘No. I’m absolutely not. Not now I’ve got you.’

‘Good.’ Bili snuggles closer. ‘Do you have to go to work tomorrow.’

‘I’ve a meeting in Whitehall. Why?’

‘I thought we could have another Emily Blunt session.’

‘That’s super-tempting babe, but-’

‘Who are you meeting?’

‘The Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary.’

‘So maybe… Maybe I could come too?’

‘Mmm. Not really.’

Bili slumps and rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t think you love me at all.’

‘Bili…’

‘Why do you need to hang out with those guys, anyway? What’s so important?’

‘The Russian elections, for a start.’

‘OK. So who’s going to win?”

‘If you’d asked me a week ago, I’d have said Anna Volkonskaya. Now, unless things change…’ Balice frowns, her gaze distant.

‘Go on.’

Balice smiles. ‘You’re not interested in politics.’

‘I’m not. But you’re very cute when you talk about them. You make this serious little face, like Alice.’

Hearing her name spoken, Alice looks up and sniffs the air.

‘Really, babe?’ Balice asks.

‘Really. Talk to me about MI6.’

‘What do you want to know?’

Bili plants a kiss behind Balice’s ear, and runs a hand up her thigh. ‘Everything.’

FINAL ‘BLOODLINE’ POST NEXT WEEK…