Hila
She sat in the half-empty room, the bottle of rum before her, drained with just a few drops remaining.
Running a hand through her short black hair, she swore as the tears welled up in her eyes. Drink always made her weak, causing the memories she had stifled with a strong hand, to rise to the surface and plague her.
She sniffled and stood up, swaying slightly as she made her way to the cupboard and took out another bottle. Her secret stash, to be used in emergencies, she had told herself, lips twisting contemptuously. Who was she kidding anyway?
With unsteady hands, Hila poured herself another large drink.
Alcohol was supposed to make you forget things, wasn’t it? Then why did she remember everything with such clarity when she had only been trying to forget those terrible incidents?
Staggering to her feet again, she swore loudly as she looked around the near-bare room, void of anything that could trace her. This was what her life had become; that of a ghost, a shadow, living out of suitcases, hiding, killing and then slipping away. Hila had never drummed up the courage to return home, to the house she had grown up in. Her cousin was taking care of the place, visiting occasionally to check. But that was all.
*
A wave of nausea engulfed her and she lurched to the bathroom. After having thrown up, she stood, trembling and stared at her reflection in the small mirror. The white face, the black eyes, the hair almost midnight black, the small mouth, bow-shaped and turned down at the corners. She looked older than her twenty years, she reflected. But death did that to you.
Scrubbing a hand across her eyes which were stinging with tears, she mumbled,
” Abba,’ she mumbled, “Abba…’
Sinking to the floor of the bathroom, she buried her face in her hands and wept for all the lost dreams, the days when she had believed that she would do something for her country when she would go on to have a family and raise children like her parents and their families before them.
All gone, in a flash.
*
Her family had been returning from the West Bank after offering their prayers a the holiest of the holy sites on the West Bank, the Western Wall; Abba and her brothers, Moshe Aaron and Lavi along with their wives. She had little memory of her mother, who had died of cancer when Hila was three years old. Her father, dear, gentle Abba had brought her up, almost single-handedly.
Her youngest sister-in-law Rivka had been pregnant with their first child and the family had been over the moon because they had waited for a long while for the baby. Moshe, who was older than Hila by seven years and her eldest brother Lavi, had been in the car park. She could guess that Abba had just been emerging from the holy site, the women and children standing beside the cars, chatting and laughing in all probability when a gunman had randomly opened fire. it had been an excursion by the extended family and a busload of people was also present. A chance attack by a misguided political activist who had been slain by the security forces as he tried to escape after his act of indiscriminate shooting, killing both old and young…
The attack had led to the deaths of thirteen people, those who had only come to pray. A few people survived. Moshe Aaron was one of them. But he was better off dead, thought Hila as she lurched to her feet after throwing up once more. Sick, she staggered out of the bathroom and collapsed on the sofa, face down.
Her brother had lost his mind after seeing his family die before his eyes. He was now in an institution, heavily sedated and helpless. Hila, who had been away when the incident took place, left the Mossad when she had heard of the incident. It had not been a knee-jerk reaction as her superior officer had told her reproachfully. the sight of her brother’s ravaged, blank face and the fact that the bodies had had to be disposed of before she could get there, all these matters had made her decide to take this way out.
*
Something died in her that day. She had been trained by the best and her skills were admirable. She could disguise herself and pass off as anyone of the common people around her as she wished, the ability to become like a chameleon, to blend into the crowd, that had been her forte. That and her expert marksmanship.
No, she wanted to kill in the way her family, poor innocent, gentle Abba, her brilliant brother Lavi, who had been a scientist and had come home on holiday from the USA, and his wife Liba, along with their two children, and of course, Moshe’s young wife Orina, had all been killed.
The police had issued a statement and had called it collateral damage but Hila fumed.
She was like a stray bullet after the incident. She could not focus, had taken to drink and had finally been gently asked to take psychiatric help by her handler. That was when she had decided to leave the Mossad.
She did not want to be reined in by authority; she would kill and kill again, relishing the fact that someone out there was suffering the way she had suffered, the way she was still suffering…
*
Maja
They found a small apartment in a respectable part of the city, with the help of Melissa Lord. She was the one who took Maja there, spoke to the realtor agent and helped them to shift. Proserpina Delano was definitely there to help but her husband made sure that she did not leave the guarded fortress which was the Delano mansion. Melissa Lord, on the other hand, was a woman who called the shots in her marriage and her husband, the handsome Tristan Lord, had given his wife carte blanche to assist Maja.
Once the thought, sneaky and unkind, did flit through Maja’s mind, that perhaps, Melissa was desperate to see Maja out of the house as she resented Proserpina’s generosity being dispensed in such a generous way. But she dismissed the thought quickly. It was hard to fault Melissa and her obvious affection and protectiveness towards Proserpina. And she had helped a lot to get Maja to settle down.
James Schwartz had also dropped in twice to see that they had settled and Proserpina had come on one occasion too, accompanied by a heavily armed pose of men.
It had been difficult for Maddie of course; she and Tara had become almost inseparable. But Proserpina had assured her that she could come and stay over as many times as she wished. The Don had not said a word, in fact, Maja wondered if he had even noticed that, they had left ;the band of gipsies which her family and she had appeared to be in his eyes.
*
Ria
When they reached the Hummer, Philippe climbed in behind the wheel, his body stiff with barely leashed anger. Ria frowned in puzzlement as she looked around for the driver who had been with them all the way from the house.
“Where s Joe?’ she asked frowning, looking around for the driver and then spotted him as he was getting into another vehicle behind them. The Capo met her eyes in the rear view mirror and said nothing. The snow was beginning t fall and the flakes were larger. She pulled her bright blue parka tightly across her body, the hood protecting her head effectively.
“Get in,’ the Capo spoke through gritted teeth and she felt a pang of fear. Had she pushed him too far wither harmless flirting?
When she made to get in behind him, he growled in a cold voice,
‘Get in front.’
Ria stopped, her small teeth sinking into her plump lower lip as she debated her options. Philippe watched her, his eyes hard and unreadable. The sight of that delectable mouth was driving him wild.
F*ck, the woman was a walking, talking stick of sexual dynamite.
“I said GET IN!’ he roared all at once as she hung outside, uncertainly and she jumped in hastily, fastening her seat belt with shaking fingers, trying not to look terrified. This was a side to the Capo that she had never experienced and she could sense his rage as it seemed to hit her in the solar plexus.
The white lines of tension that ran from his nose to his mouth made her swallow in trepidation. He was controlling himself with a great deal of effort. What had she done in her foolishness, she thought in sudden fear.
*
Clambering up into the passenger’s seat, she settled back, trying to clip the seat belt with shaking fingers, aware of the big man beside her, who was staring at her hands in irritation.
“F*ck!’ he grunted and swore savagely before twisting about in his seat and fastening the clasp for her himself, jerking her in a painful way. She gasped involuntarily.
“What do you…?’ she began to protest but he silenced her with a hard look. His face was so close; she could make out the irises of his eyes as he leant to her,
‘Just keep that saucy mouth of yours shut, Princess and we’re good,’ he snarled and the look of fury on his harsh face made her shrink back in fear, wide-eyed in alarm.
Ria had unzipped the parka as she climbed into the vehicle for it was warmer in the Hummer. Unwillingly, Philippe’s eyes went to her chest, where the now open parka revealed her shirt, as her body was straining under the belt, outlining her full breasts which were thrust out as she tried to avoid touching him.
Her face was hot as she saw the way his eyes lingered on her body and then, to her horror, she felt her nipples harden. He noticed it too and raised his eyes to meet her flustered face but her said nothing merely moved back and started the vehicle.
The engine of the big vehicle revved up ominously and it shot forward, Alarmed, she gripped the sides of her seat as Philippe drove out of the campus, his anger evident in the way he handled the large Hummer. The few people drifting along the paths of the campus leapt to the sides to avoid being hit by the man who was driving like a crazed person.
they rode in silence as the snow fell around them, the storm growing in intensity and she swallowed nervously as she stared outside, listening to the sound of the harsh breaths that the man beside her was taking in an effort to control himself.
Glancing at him nervously out of the corner of her eyes, Ria licked her lips fearfully.
“Where …where are we going?’ she said in a small voice as she realised that they were heading into the town, away from the road leading to her house. Whirling about, she looked out of the window in growing surprise.
And when he made no attempt to reply merely met her bewildered gaze with a stony silence, she cried imperiously, faking confidence,
“Philippe, stop the car right here, right now! Tell me where are you taking me?’