Tahir spreads his hands. ‘It’s yours, my son.’ He smiles. ‘It always was. But why are you here, Defne? This is no place?—’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,Baba,’ Defne says. ‘That’s where you’ve always been wrong.’
‘Defne, kizim…’
She gazes at her father for a moment, her dark eyes sad. Then she draws an automatic pistol from the waistband of her jeans, levels it unwaveringly, and shoots him between the eyes.
43
In the departures hall at Koropi, the heliport of Athens, Eve stares impatiently through the plate glass doors at the sky. Weather conditions over the Aegean, and particularly over the Cyclades group of islands, have made helicopter flights impossible for several hours. In that time Eve has drunk three cups of pitch-black Greek coffee, checked the local weather forecast on her phone every quarter of an hour, and dragged her cabin case the length of the hall more times than she can count.
I’m starving, but the refreshment counter’s only got sweet things. There’s a whole tray of baklava, pastries made with pistachio nuts and honey, and although that’s not really what I feel like I may well end up ordering a couple out of sheer greed. In fact, unless my flight’s called in the next minute, I definitely will.
I feel terrible about Jack Demerell, who hugged me so hard when I left Philippa’s place, and looked so broken, and still managed a grin to try and make me feel OK. He’s a good man,but I have a terrible record with good men. And Philippa, my favourite witch. What to say? I’ll miss her so much.
But right now, I can’t think about them. Right now, I’m aching for Oxana, and though I know that she’s terrible, and a bad person through and through, I also know, in a way that overrides all sense and logic, that we belong together. So there’s that. Not that I’m not going to be incandescently fucking furious when I see her. I am. She’s not going to get away with her lying ways for a single second longer, evil little bitch that she is. But there’s no getting around the fact that she is, and always will be, my evil little bitch.
44
On the beach, Oxana, Defne and Emir watch as theMedusa’s launch grows closer. The sun is edging from the clouds, hazy and fiercely hot, and the sand is drying.
‘You look terrible,’ Defne says. She touches Oxana’s blood-caked neck. She turns to Emir. ‘Can we patch her up on theMedusa?’
‘No,’ Emir says flatly. ‘She stays here. We’ve got enough to deal with.’
Defne smiles obliquely. ‘We’ve certainly got some explaining to do.’
‘What are you going to tell everyone?’ Oxana asks.
Defne looks at the horizon. ‘That’s not your concern. None of this is your concern any more.’
Oxana smiles. ‘So you’re a mafiosa princess now.’
Defne touches the butt of the automatic in her waistband. ‘You saw who I was up there.’
‘And the Defne I knew?’
‘The Defne you thought you knew, Oxana.’ She shrugs. ‘You told me to be myself. To take what I wanted. Well, this is who I am. And this is what I want.’
‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’ Oxana shades her eyes with her hand. ‘I love that silk top, by the way. You should always wear leopard prints.’
‘And you should always wear wetsuits.’ Defne traces a curving line in the sand with her Hermès beach sandal and smiles sadly. ‘In the end, neither of us was who she pretended to be.’
‘So… how will it work? You and Emir will run the organisation together?’
‘We’re family. That’s how it’s always worked.’
‘And your father. He wasn’t family?’
‘He was going to betray us to the Albanians and the N’Drangheta,’ Emir says. ‘Which is why I got in touch with your people.’
‘Without telling Defne?’
‘She knows everything now. Obviously.’
‘And you’re not worried that word will get out about what happened here?’
Emir polishes his sunglasses on his shirt. ‘I hope it does. In fact, I’m counting on it. It’ll tell the world exactly who they’re dealing with.’