The Berlin Agent (John Cook #2)

59

Kate’s house was dark. The barns round the back sagged under blackened thatch. I forced the door into the smaller barn.

There was an abandoned log pile in a dark corner. It smelt of mildew. I kicked a log and my foot sunk into it, like pressing on a sponge. A thick rat’s tail disappeared into the darkness. I was about to give up when I found what I’d been looking for. An ash handle, a foot long, grey with age. I grabbed it and pulled. The hachet came away from the log without any resistance. The blade was brown with rust. It would do.

I left the note on the front door at eye level, held up by the hachet, buried an inch deep in the oak door. A promise, and a challenge.

Your next.

*

I stopped on the way home, outside a small, dark cottage on Snatt’s Road. I sat in the van. Kate’s housemaid was as much a victim of Victor as the Leckies were. It would be wrong to involve her.

While I wrestled with my conscience, the front door opened. The maid ran out, pulled at the passenger door of the van, and climbed in.

We sat in silence. I turned off the ignition and the engine ticked as it cooled.

‘He’s coming for me,’ she said. ‘After he’s sorted you out. We’re going north. He’s got a friend in Letchworth. Says he can get him a job in a factory.’

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘Money,’ she said. She thought more. ‘Pride.’

‘Do you want to go with him?’

She shook her head.

‘I’ve been looking for someone to do for us,’ I said. ‘Know anyone?’

‘What’s the pay?’

‘Board and lodging. Two bob a week.’

‘Three.’

‘Two and six. If you’re a good worker we’ll see about a raise at Christmas.’

‘All right.

The silence returned. It didn’t bother me, and I got the sense it didn’t bother her either. She was used to living quietly.

‘What about him?’ she asked.

‘You won’t hear from him again,’ I said.

‘How do you know?’

‘I know,’ I said.