Kill Me if You Can - James Patterson [49]
I bought two first-class train tickets to Milan and reserved a sleeper car for the second leg of the trip.
We sat down to wait at a little coffee bar. I ordered a cappuccino. Katherine had a caffè con panna, which is basically espresso topped with sweet whipped cream.
“Do you remember what we were talking about in our hotel room before we were so rudely interrupted?” I said.
“Do I remember? First you nearly gave me a heart attack when you showed me what was inside your little doctor kit, then you said something like—but wait, that’s not all. You were going to tell me another big secret, when the door crashed in.” She sipped her espresso. “Are you going to tell me now?”
I nodded. “Walter Zelvas—the guy who got killed at Grand Central—was a professional killer,” I said. “He worked for the Russian mob. Among other things, they run a global diamond-smuggling operation, and Zelvas was taking off with a bag full of diamonds that he stole from them. They found out, and they hired another hit man to kill him. Zelvas didn’t die from a bomb blast. He was professionally terminated.”
Katherine put her hand up to her mouth. “You’re…you’re telling me the truth, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I swear.”
“But how do you know? How did you find out?”
“I’m the person…they hired to kill Zelvas.”
Her body started to shake. “No. No. No. It can’t be possible. No.”
“Katherine, first of all, it’s true,” I said. “I can’t expect you to understand, but I love you too much to keep it from you. And after what happened in our hotel room, you have to know. That woman’s name is Marta Krall. The people who hired me to kill Zelvas hired her to kill me and get their diamonds back.”
“This can’t be happening,” Katherine whispered. She was staring at the floor now, not at me. She couldn’t look me in the eye.
“I think I know what you’re going through,” I said. “The night I got out of the Marines, my father told me that he’d been a professional hit man. He made it sound almost all right. Logical. He only killed bad people, he said. It was like being an executioner in a prison—a really well-paid executioner. He wanted me to think about doing it, too. At first I wouldn’t even consider it. But eventually he turned me. I kill evil men like Walter Zelvas. And the money I get paid lets me follow my dream—it lets me paint.”
Katherine was in shock. Her face looked tortured. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t believe it. You kill people? For money? And your father was doing it before you?” She paused, and then she hit me with the same question I had asked my father. “Did he ever tell your mother?”
“Yes,” I said. “He said it took her years to get used to it.”
“Well, I’m not your mother,” she said, sobbing. “Good-bye, Matthew.”
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and started walking.
I jumped up and followed her. “Where are you going?”
“Away from you. There’s a bus that goes to the Venice airport. I’m buying a ticket and flying to New York. I’m going home. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Ever.”
I ran after her, took her by the shoulders, and spun her around. “Please, Katherine. Don’t leave.”
I stared into her eyes, but the eyes that looked back at me were empty, lifeless. My mind told me to let her go. She would be safer in New York. But my chest was heaving, my heart was breaking, and the emotions I’ve always managed to keep bottled up inside began spilling out.
“You know how much I love you?” I said, my voice cracking. “Please don’t leave. I’ll change. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
“Take your hands off me,” Katherine said. “Or I’ll scream.”
My hands dropped to my sides. “Katherine, what I do…what I did…it’s a job, like being in the Marine Corps was a job. But it’s not who I am. You know the real me. Nothing is more important to me than our relationship.”
“You’re wrong, Matthew. I never knew the real you. And our relationship has been built on a mountain of lies.