A Necessary Kill (6 page)

I bet there’s some serious
crazy
in this place…

The guard steps to one side, and one of his colleagues follows us through to take the lead. “He’ll show you to her cell.” He turns and disappears back through the door, closing it firmly behind him. I hear the locks turn from the other side.

I look at the guard. He seems young, but has an air of fearlessness about him. “You worked here long?”

He nods. “Eighteen months, give or take.”

“Like it?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly.”

I smile uncomfortably and follow him as he walks across the corridor and up the stairs. We climb up, go left, and come out on the floor above. There’s no carpet here—just cold, hard tile. Facing the stairs is another desk. It’s a makeshift security station with two guards sitting behind it monitoring video feeds on their small screens.

The guard heads down the corridor. I move alongside him, my footsteps sounding loud in the unnerving silence that surrounds us.

“How come it’s so quiet?” I ask. “I figured this place would be alive with the sound of madness or something…”

“All the cells are soundproof. They have to be, otherwise it’d be like a goddamn zoo in here.”

“Huh… makes sense.”

There’s no natural light along the corridor. The fixtures overhead are motion activated, so in front and behind us is pitch-black—only the lights directly above us are lit up as we walk.

I snap my head sideways.

I swear I just heard something from the door nearest to me…

I frown, slowing as I take a cautious step toward it.

I think this place is starting to get to me. He
just
finished telling me the rooms are soundproof…

But I definitely heard—

“I’d keep away from the doors if I were you,” the guard says, distracting me.

I turn my head to meet his gaze. See, now he’s told me to keep away, I have an overwhelming urge to move closer and look through the letterbox window at eye level, blocked by a metal flap. It’s an almost spiteful curiosity.

Spiteful… stupid—same difference.

It’s in my nature to do the opposite of what people who think they’re in charge tell me to do. It’s an illness, I know. But, especially given the way everyone’s acting around here, I feel compelled to look inside one of these rooms, or cells—whatever they call them—just to get a glimpse of what I might be dealing with when I meet Ruby.

I move over to the door, listening closely. There’s a. I move my hand slowly toward it, turning the catch as quietly as possible, holding my breath… I lower it gently, grimacing as the metal hinge squeaks. I put my face close to the window and peer inside. It’s completely black. I can’t see anything… A bit of an anti-climax, I admit. I guess I was thinking I’d—

A pair of eyes opens right against the glass.

I jump back, raising my arms instinctively. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

My heart’s racing—that scared the shit out of me!

The eyes stare at me, the pupils gray as old stone and the whites stained with red streaks. They don’t move, they don’t blink—they just… watch me.

The guard appears and moves to the door. Without hesitating, or looking at the eyes, he bangs his nightstick against the glass before closing the flap.

He presses a button on the intercom, which is mounted on the wall to the side of the door. “Back away from the door! Now!” He turns to me. “I
did
warn you… ”

I’m laughing only to hide the embarrassment, not because I thought any part of that was fucking funny.

“Heh… yeah, I won’t be doing that again, don’t worry.”

We continue on. About halfway down a metal gate is blocking the way. The guard takes a key and opens it, allowing me through before following me and locking it behind us. We soon approach the end of the corridor. There’s a door in front of us. The guard stops next to it.

“Your cousin’s in that room,” he says, nodding to the door on my right. “But we don’t open it up without a full team. Instead, we keep her in this particular cell because, along with the one opposite, it’s linked to an observation room, where you can see her and communicate with her without having to step inside.”

I’m
really
tempted to look through the window… No—don’t do it, Adrian.

“Is that not overkill?” I ask. “Even for
this
place…?”

The guard unlocks the door, then looks back at me, frowning. “You don’t know what she’s in here for, do you?”

I shake my head. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this…

“She set fire to a care home,” he continues. “Killed everyone in there. All sixty-two of the old bastards. Courts ruled she was certifiable, so they sent her here instead of giving her the chair. She’s… tormented, to say the least.”

Holy…

“Shit… Well, like I said, I’m just… y’know… doing right by the family…”

I thought she was in the business? That’s pretty out there, even for an assassin. I wonder if Case made a mistake. Saying that, he
did
say she was a plan B…

Christ, can you imagine what she would do if I let her loose in the White House? I smile to myself at the thought. It would certainly be
one
way of stopping Cunningham—burn the building to the ground!

Hmm…

The guard opens the door and steps to the side. “You’ve got five minutes with her. Any longer than that and she tends to get a little… agitated.”

I smile and walk through. The door closes behind me. The room is long and has two temporary walls dividing it with cheap doors cut into the plasterboard. I open the one on the right. There are two chairs side by side facing a window currently hidden behind closed curtains. Other than that, the room is empty.

I move over to the window. I feel myself hesitate before reaching for the curtains. There could be anything behind these… I’m not entirely sure I want to know.

No—man up, Adrian, you fucking woman!

I pull them back to reveal Ruby DeSouza’s cell.

Huh…

It’s well-lit by the fluorescent lighting overhead. The walls are gray brick and the floor is tiled. Everywhere is clean, spotless—not a mark to be found on any surface. As I look, at the far end there’s a single bed, neatly made, in one corner, with the door in the other. Nearest me, next to the window, is a toilet and sink with a desk opposite.

In the center of the room, there’s a woman sitting quietly on a chair, facing the window. Facing me. She’s… well, she’s stunning, if I’m honest. But she’s staring right at me, which is kind of freaking me out a little.

And now she’s tilting her head slowly at an angle, not blinking…

Okay, I don’t like it…

I sit in one of the chairs and compose myself, taking a deep breath. This place is doing a number on me, and I need to get my shit together.

I take another breath.

She’s still staring at me.

Her hair is jet black and cut short into a bob that finishes level with her chin. Her eyes are green, with long, black lashes. She’s wearing—and don’t ask me how she got the outfit—a very short black dress. The kind of dress women wear to a nightclub. Her long toned legs are crossed, and her hands are clasped on her lap. She has no shoes on, and she’s bouncing her foot like she’s sitting in a doctor’s waiting room or something, idly passing the time.

What the…

“Ruby?”

The foot stops bouncing. She uncrosses and recrosses her legs the opposite way.

I get a brief image of
Basic Instinct
in my head and thank God she’s not Sharon Stone right now…

She moves her head slowly to a different angle, never taking her eyes off me.

“You’re not…
him
,” she says. Her voice is faint, like a whisper. “Where is he?”

I frown. “Where’s who?”

“The nice man in the hat and the suit and the power tie, which has four different pastel colors merging into each other. He comes here once a day, about this time, with his newspaper and his drink of tea. Oh, he likes his tea. Same cup, every day. The
same
cup. I hope he washes it after each use… It will become stained. Yes it will. Stained. Like blood. Bloodstains. They don’t wash out. No, no, no, they don’t. They don’t wash out.”

Wow.

That’s… ah… that’s some kind of crazy she has going on for herself!

She’s not moved. She’s still sitting all prim and proper like an English rose. But those eyes… man, I can see the demons in those eyes.

They’re impressive.

I know a thing or two about dealing with demons and about letting them out. Dear Ruby here seems to let them roam free 24-7.

Her emerald orbs are darting in all directions now, like she’s trying to track a fly that’s buzzing around her. But still she sits, all delicate.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I say. “But
I’m
here. I came to see you. To make sure you’re okay.”

Her eyes snap to me in an instant, her brow furrowing with an immediate, unjustified hatred. “And who the fuck are
you
? Heretic! What the
fuck
are you doing here?” She spits out the words with venom, saliva forming on her lips.

I’m starting to think this maybe wasn’t such a good idea.

So, I’m assuming the patience and understanding route probably isn’t going to get me anywhere. I’ll try another approach.

“Okay, Ruby, tone down the psycho—I’m better at it than you. And a helluva lot better at hiding it. I’m here to offer you a job. Do you know what I mean by that? When I say
job
?”

Her face relaxes, but the frown stays. I think more from confusion than anger, though. She tilts her head alternatively left and right, like a dog trying to understand its master’s command.

I sigh. “Look, I’ve only got a few minutes with you because, for some reason, the guards here seem to be scared of you. Why is that, do you think?”

A smile slowly creeps across her face and reaches her eyes, which light up with a fiendish glee. She stands, not bothering to shimmy her dress down. It’s ridden up a little, revealing most of her thighs. She walks casually toward me, up on her toes, placing one foot exaggeratedly in front of the other, like a ballerina, until she’s mere inches from the window.

She strokes her hand up and down the glass, playfully, before turning around and reaching behind her, grabbing the zipper near the base of her neck, and pulling it down all the way to the top of her ass.

I shift in my seat, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Hey, what are you doing? Don’t be doing that, now. Come on.”

She slips the dress off one shoulder, then the other… slowly, like she’s putting on a show. She shakes her hips as she ushers it down her body.

She’s naked underneath.

I quickly look to the floor, putting my head in my hand. “Oh, sweet Jesus…”

I’m a man, like any other—in
some
ways, at least. Ruby is an attractive woman, and she’s now naked in front of me. I don’t want to see her like that but there’s really nowhere else to look—the window runs pretty much the full width of the wall and almost floor to ceiling.

This is weird. Like, really,
really
, weird.

Josh would be loving this. Not only for the gratuitous nudity, but also for my obvious discomfort.

She steps out of the dress and walks back toward her chair, stopping just in front of it. She puts her arms out to the sides, moving them slowly up and over her head as she bends her knees and arches her back, stretching. She stands up straight and turns around.

I jump in my seat. “Fuck me!”

Her, frankly, incredible body is covered from throat to groin in a network of scars. Self-inflicted wounds in the shape of a thousand pentagrams tattoo her chest and stomach. The freshly healed cuts are a deep red.

“This is how I keep my demons locked inside,” she says seductively. “It stops them coming out to play. Do you like my demons?”

I shrug, squirming in my seat. “Ah… not really, no. It’s a little bizarre, if I’m honest.”

She frowns. “You do not like me? You do not
want
me? Why are you here? The people who come here always like me… always want me. They cheer for me, beg me for more… And they visit me. Late at night when they think I’m asleep, they visit. They try to unlock my door with their key. Try to let my demons out. But I don’t let them come out. No, no, no… They stay locked behind my door. Yes they do.” She pauses to giggle like a little girl, putting one hand to her mouth. “Their keys aren’t big enough to open
my
door. But I don’t tell them they’re wasting their time. It’s fun watching them try.”

I shake my head and smile, which gradually gives way to a laugh.

Sonofabitch.

It’s the eyes. They never lie. And Ruby DeSouza’s eyes are no different. I’m not saying she isn’t a little… out there… but this—it’s an act. A very elaborate, very clever act. I don’t know the reason behind it. But I know it’s all for show. She had me—hook, line, and sinker—right until the double entendre about the guards interfering with her at night. I could see her struggling to keep a straight face. Her eyes betrayed her.

I stand and applaud.

She stops, frozen in place and naked, staring at me, genuinely confused.

“Very good,” I say. “You should be an actress. Now put your fucking clothes on, sit your ass down, and listen to what I have to say.”

She doesn’t move for a moment, frowning at me. Eventually, she gives in, moving quickly over to her dress and putting it back on. “Who are you?”

Her voice sounds drastically different now. More down to earth. More…
sane
.

“I’m Adrian Hell.”

Her mouth drops open with shock. “Get the fuck outta here! Really?”

I smile and nod.

“No shit! What are
you
doing here? And, hey, how did you know I was faking it?”

I shrug. “You’re good, don’t get me wrong. And the whole naked thing—nice touch.
Very
nice touch… But I could see it in your eyes, trying not to laugh. You couldn’t quite stay in character.”

“Damn it… ” She sighs as she zips her dress back up. “So what do you want?”

I must admit, as far as she’s concerned at least, I feel much better about potentially having her on board. I think her natural talent for deception probably makes her a formidable killer. And she’s definitely crazy enough to want in.