“But people like the Lazarovs wouldn’t take a job like this without a sweetener,” Mary Alice added. “So you gave them our names—and Lilian Flanders’s—so they could get a little revenge for their father’s death at the same time.”
“Working it out on paper is a little different than real life,” Helen said in a soothing tone. “Isn’t it, Marilyn? You’ve thrown in with people who would kill you without hesitating, and you have only just now realized how dangerous that is.”
Marilyn rubbed a cuff over her face and it came away damp. Sweat or tears, or possibly both. “I knew they were dangerous,” she said with a touch of defiance. I actually did feel sorry for her then. She really thought she could play in this particular sandbox and not get hurt.
“You know,” Nat said from the open window, “that’s a good point, Helen.” She looked at Galina. “Why haven’t you killed her yet? You have the painting. What do you need her for?”
Marilyn’s show of bravado was brief. She gave a little choked scream and clutched at her backpack.
“Because I’m betting that Marilyn is the only one who knows where the drop is,” I said. “She intercepted the information about who Muric’s man was meeting in Athens. If she’s smart, she’s set up an account for the purchase money to be wired directly—I’m guessing Switzerland? The Caymans?” Marilyn didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t deny it either. I went on. “If she has any sense of self-preservation, she’ll leave the second the money hits her account, putting as much distance as she can between herself and Galina. Then Galina will get her share once Marilyn calls the buyer from a place of safety.”
Marilyn’s expression told me I’d hit a bull’s-eye. It wasn’t hard to figure out; it’s what anybody would have done in the situation. “Of course,” I added, turning to Galina, “she’s probably got the information in her phone, and phone security can easily be hacked. You don’t even need to keep her alive. Basic biometrics like Face ID and fingerprint scanners work for a bit after death.”
“It’s not on my phone!” Marilyn said, just in case anybody got the bright idea of murdering her in the next few minutes, I supposed. “I memorized the details of the drop. If I die, nobody gets the sale.”
“The buyer will be expecting Muric’s man,” I said thoughtfully. “Why would he buy a painting from somebody he doesn’t know?”
“I contacted him from the courier’s phone and told him there was a change of personnel for the job.”
That accounted for why the courier’s phone was missing from his jacket. I gave her a skeptical look. “And he bought that?”
“He wants the painting,” she snapped. “He is buying it under the table. He isn’t exactly in a position to make demands. But if anything happens to me, he will not do a deal with anyone else. You need me,” she added to Galina. “Or you’ll never see that money.”
Her gaze darted from Galina to where Tamara still stood, springy as a cat. Her muscles were so tightly coiled, it was clear she wasdyingto take a pop at Marilyn and only Galina’s instructions were keeping her in line. Nat still hung at the window, and I realized she must be standing with her toes on a ledge, watching it all with interest from her perch.
“I do not care for threats,” Galina said politely.
“Especially when she can’t back them up,” I said. I turned back to Marilyn, keeping my voice kinder than I felt. She was already spooked enough. There was no point in making her more nervous because nervous people are unpredictable at best, and I didn’t need her doing something stupid. “Galina has her own contacts. She doesn’t actually need you to sell the painting. She can take it off you by force and move it herself. You’ve got to see it’s hopeless, Marilyn. You tried, and full marks for a hell of a ballsy move. But you’re swinging in the majors with a Nerf bat. You’re in over your head. We can give you a way out. Just hand over the painting.”
Her expression hardened. “You think I can’t do this? I orchestrated this entire deal. I’m the one who found the information, who put all the pieces together. I did this,” she said, puffing her chest a little and finding her confidence at last. “Idid this.”
I shrugged, palms out to show her I wasn’t picking a fight. “Okay. You did this. Fair play. But what’s your next move?”
She darted her eyes around again, assessing, before she turned to me. “I’ll cut you in. The four of you,” she clarified, gathering Mary Alice, Helen, and Nat in with a glance. “There’s plenty of money. Just act as my bodyguards, protect me until we get the deal finished. Make sure I get safely on a plane to wherever I want to go when it’s finished, and you can have a share of the proceeds.”
Looking back, I’m sure Galina would have had something scathing to say about that. She might have even unleashed Tamara to do her worst. I was about to laugh in Marilyn’s face, but just then the train gave another sudden lurch, throwing us all off-balance. Helen fell backwards into the corridor while Mary Alice landed at Galina’s feet. The train bucked again, and suddenly we were moving, and not just moving, moving fast, picking up speed as we headed towards the viaduct.
“Jesus Christ, Natalie!” I sprang towards the window where Nat was still hanging on, eyes wide and knuckles white to the bone as she gripped for dear life. As I leapt, Galina grabbed my leg, yanking me down. I fell across her and we landed on the berth, close enough I could smell her breath—black coffee and mouthwash—and powerless to do anything but watch what happened next. It was over in a matter of seconds. We hit the viaduct bridge with a thunderous roar, and Tamara went for Nat. She kicked out, once for each hand, landing the heel of her boot squarely on Nat’s fingers.
Nat screamed, but she held on.
Until she didn’t.
One second she was there, the next she was gone.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It should have been me,going after Tamara, but before I could even fix my fingers to gouge her eyes, Mary Alice launched herself, scrambling to her feet and vaulting clean over the tangle of the rest of us. She grabbed Tamara by the throat and shoved her up against the window.
“That was myfriend, you bitch,” she snarled. I’d never seen Mary Alice like that. Sure, she could be cranky as a grizzly on meth if she got up on the wrong side of the bed, and Nat was usually the one who caught the brunt of it. (Because she was usually the one to provoke it, which Nat herself would be the first to tell you.) Everybody knew Mary Alice was really all bark and no bite.
But something about seeing Tamara go after Natalie meant Mary Alice found her fangs. She had a good thirty pounds on Tamara and she used every one of them, lifting the smaller woman clean off the floor and slamming her so hard into thewindow, the glass cracked into a pattern like a spiderweb. One of Tamara’s hands clutched at Mary Alice’s, trying to loosen her grip. The other went into her pocket and came out with a knife. A quick slash and she was free, Mary Alice’s wrist dripping blood.
“Oh,nowI’m mad,” Mary Alice told her. She reached out and slapped Tamara so hard Tamara’s head cracked the glass a second time. The spiderweb spread to the corners of the window where pockets of rust seemed to be the only thing holding it together. Tamara slashed again with the knife, but Mary Alice threw up her left arm, blocking the blow as she hit fast with the edge of her right hand, aiming for Tamara’s throat. Tamara jammed her knee up into Mary Alice’s pubic bone and went for her again with the knife, slashing back and forth wildly.
With the rest of us distracted by the fight between Mary Alice and Tamara, Marilyn took the opportunity to bolt, grabbing the enormous backpack in both arms and scurrying out the door. Helen, looking a little dazed, shoved herself up from the floor and went after her. Galina tried to do the same, getting as far as the corridor before I grabbed her by the hair, yanking hard.