[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
in his eyes. He wasn t afraid of me. He d seen worse than me be-
fore, if only in his dreams.
I m afraid I m a bit in the dark, he said.
That makes two of us. Tell me about Mrs. Ricks s death.
What? Again?
No, this time I want the truth. You weren t surprised she
died, were you?
No.
Why was that?
He pouted, his lips touching the tips of his fingers. Then he
sat back in his chair, touching its sides with his arms. You killed
her? he said.
Yes. I didn t mind him knowing, not now. If he was going
to be honest with me, he d expect me to be honest too. In fact,
he d demand it.
I see, he said. In that case, I ve something for you. He
stood up and went to his safe. It was a freestanding model, dark
green with a brass maker s plate, like you see the bank robbers
dynamite in old cowboy films. He unlocked it with a key and
turned the handle. When he looked round at me, I was pointing
a pistol straight at him. It didn t faze him, though last night it had
fazed Scotty Shattuck when I d relieved him of it.
There s no need for that, Johns said quietly. He opened the
safe wide so I could see inside it. It was packed full of papers and
large manila envelopes. He lifted the top envelope out and
handed it to me. It didn t have a name or anything on it, and felt
flimsy in my hand. I gestured for him to return to his chair, then
sat myself down. I put the gun on the desktop and tore open the
envelope. There were two typed sheets inside, written as a letter.
The signature at the bottom read Eleanor Ricks.
I started to read.
If you re reading this, you ve done well, and you re sitting
in Geoffrey s office. Maybe you ve got a gun trained on
him. Maybe you intend him some harm as vengeance for
367
Ian Rankin
what you ve been through. Please, believe me when I say
he doesn t know anything. I m leaving this with him as
proof of that. If you re here, you probably intend him
some harm. I wouldn t like anything to happen to
Geoffrey, so please read this before you do anything.
Another reason, I suppose, is that I feel this tremen-
dous need to get it all down, to tell someone . . . even if it
has to be you. Indeed, I can think of no better figure for
my confessor.
Actually, I say Geoffrey doesn t know anything, but
by now he probably knows quite a lot. I didn t tell him
anything, but he s not stupid, and I needed his help, so he
knows a little.
For example, I asked him to call the police at a cer-
tain time, some minutes before I would be walking out of
the hotel with Molly Prendergast. That will be the hard-
est thing to do, walk out of there knowing you re waiting
for me. I know that when I walk out of that hotel, dressed
in the colors you re expecting, I ll be trembling. But I d
rather know why I m afraid, and know something s going
to stop me being scared and angry and in pain. Rather
that than the slow, internal death.
All the same, I ll be shaking. I hope I make it out of
the door. I hope I make an easy target for you. Please, I
hope I didn t linger. I found out several months ago that
my condition is terminal. I didn t tell anyone. I didn t
want that. But I felt this flow of frustration within me,
anger that there would be so many projects left unfin-
ished. . . including this one, my present one.
I got the idea from Scotty Shattuck. Or, rather, think-
ing of Scotty, I came up with the idea. If you re reading
this, you ve probably spoken with Scotty.
I paused and looked up at Geoffrey Johns. He was staring out
of the window. Oh, I d spoken with Scotty. I d done a lot more
than that, too. But he was alive, and it s amazing what they can
do in hospitals these days, isn t it? I started reading again.
368
Bleeding Hearts
Scotty helped me. I knew him from assignments in
the Falklands, when he was a soldier, and later in ex-
Yugoslavia, when he was a mercenary. I knew I could never
commit suicide, not self-inflicted suicide. My will to live,
you see, is strong. It s the pain I can t stand. I asked Scotty
if he thought he could kill someone for money. He ram-
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]