Spider - Michael Morley [106]
Meanwhile, Jack King stood on the pavement of Beach Avenue, his nose pressed to Primorski’s window, imagining what Ludmila Zagalsky had been doing during her last moments of freedom almost a week earlier. It was important for him to know the mood she was in, the frame of mind that might have made her take a risk, or avoid one. First, he imagined the moment Lu saw Ramzan inside the restaurant. She waved at him, hoping he would come to the door and maybe invite her in, hoping her night would end in the arms of the big tall guy with good looks and a regular job. But for some reason he didn’t come.
So what, fuck him! An average end to an averageday.
He pictured Lu spinning around from the window and feeling rejected. But then what?
Jack turned away from Primorski’s window, trying to feel her pang of loneliness, trying to work out what she would do next.
Some guy was rolling up to use the ATM right next to her. ATMs were always hot pick-up spots for good-time girls. It was the perfect distraction for Lu. Why not? He looked harmless enough. Opportunity knocked.
Rejected by one man, she was likely to want to reassert her self-confidence by taking money and power from another.
Was Grazyna right? Had the machine been out of order?
Jack madea note to have it checked. Even if he used a false account, which was inevitable really, it would still contain precise information about where he was at certain times, and Jack always hung on to the hope that one day this son of a bitch would make a simple mistake. He looked at the machine; there was nothing directing users to the next one if it wasn’t working. Of course to BRK it wouldn’t have mattered. Even if the ATM had been working he’d have just pretended it wasn’t. The whole point was to get the girl in the car.
Did that mean he already knew where the other machines were? Had he checked out this area before? Maybe even been stalking Lu Zagalsky for a couple of days, just waiting for the right moment to inject himself into her life?
Jack was convinced it wasn’t a random snatch. He carried on building the scene.
BRK would have tracked this girl all day, maybe for several days; this was his moment, the streets were empty and she was alone. He’d have just slid his car to the kerb and walked over to her. Once she’d turned away from the restaurant window he’d have moved in for the kill.
Moved in for the kill – the phrase stuck in his thoughts. For serial murderers like BRK, the hunt-and-kill instinct seemed as strong and primitively undeniable as most decent people’s urges to meet and mate.
Jack looked up and down the shop walls for security cameras, hoping there might be at least one covering the ATM, but he was out of luck.
So, Lu, what did you do next? Jack slipped back into her time and space, the thoughts in her head that led her to make a fatal mistake.
The guy looks harmless enough; he’s going to have a roll of bills in his hands. He’s up late and after money, maybe he’s looking to spend it on some fun. Hey, aren’t I fun-shaped? Let’s get some action going. A little chat, show him where the next ATM is, then wham-bam-thank-you, Mam, something extra in the purse before calling it quits for the night.
Jack walked slowly east down Beach Avenue. Opposite him, a patrol car crawled along, ready to take him anywhere he wanted.
As he paced, he called Howie and found out where the next two nearest ATMs were. Somewhere between a DIY store that was closing down and a Russian-language video shop that was opening up, he stopped and fine-tuned his thoughts.
Where was she going to take him? Down an alley? Maybe bang him against a wall for a quick buck or blow him off next to a trash can? No, that didn’t figure somehow. Jack leant against a shop wall while Lu’s thoughts whispered in his mind.
Look at it like this, Jack: this sleazeball’s about to withdraw a whole bundle of bucks, and even though he’s acting all innocent he don’t fool no one, he’s sure as hell interested in spending some of them on yours truly. Look at the guy, he’s an easy trick, he’s in his late thirties, maybe forty-something,