THE LAST KILL

Part 5: Only Echoes

•••

Silas's internal struggle intensified, he was now being tormented by the irony of killing the daughter of a man he already killed. What was life turning into? But this was many years ago. And that teenage girl was now Eleanor Vance. God! Who would have thought they'd meet again? And meet like this.

His afternoons in London were not the kind of afternoons he'd always had, and now he needed his therapist. The last time he saw Dr. Anya was about two months ago, back in Moscow, and he missed her questions, and stories. He's tried reaching her for the past one month, but she's ended up unreachable, yesterday her phone went through, and his therapy sessions with Dr. Anya Sharma would now be conducted remotely.

He turned his laptop on and sat in front of it like a child, waiting to report to his mother what some boys at school have been doing.

“Hello, Elias Thorn?” She said, adjusting in her seat, he could see that she's got makeup on, she never had makeup on, and she looked a little more happier than how he'd left her.

“Doctor. You…”, he paused, “are you seeing someone?”

“Yes, Thorn.” She said, smiling sheepishly.

“Elias. Thorn. Ma'am.”

“Can't I just call you Thorn? I mean it's a worldwide thing, people find it okay, or more humanly to address someone by their surname.”

But Silas knew that that wasn't his name, neither was it his surname. His name was Silas Volkov, and if Dr. Anya knew who he was he doubted she’d stay another minute on this call.

He watched her rant all and about, “Okay,” she finally said, “I'll be more deliberate. Elias Thorn. Why did you set up a meeting? It's been two complete month since you left.”

“You just never wore makeup.” He said, “but you look beautiful.”

“You are just saying.”

“No, trust me, doctor.” He began talking, and deep into their conversation, he spoke of the ethics of necessary evils and also the burden of consequences, he made his words soft and he didn't fail to make them cryptic too, but they still hinted at his true predicament, and luckily for him, she understood. She would understand. She's been understanding for a long time. I mean, that was her job description. Understand and then help.

•••

A high-stakes data extraction from Vance's server farm goes awry. And the first call from NexusCore rang his phone.

“Security sir.” The voice spoke with some static, “there's a problem.”

Silas hurried, and as fate would have it, on reaching there, he entered the same elevator with Kira, “Hello, Mr Silas Volkov.” And then she smiled. He remembered her from yesterday.

Silas finds himself in a tense, and very,—very brutal cat-and-mouse game with Kira, who is actively trying to provoke him into making a mistake.

“Stop following me.” He warned.

“You, stop following me.” she warned.

He didn't understand, but the best way was to stop, and ask questions, a decent conversation would sort them out, and hopefully bring peace. They walked into the hallway leading to the Security Consultant office, he pulled his cap over his head, blocking every view to his face. Peace? Did he just think that an actual conversation with this lady would settle them out? He didn't even know her, or who sent her, or why she was following him. But it was only the both of them walking that hallway, so he quickly pulled her by the side, pinned her to the wall and put his pistol to her head. She stayed calm. Looking at him straight in the eye. Silas was now breathing hard.

“Is that all you've got, Mr Silas Volkov?”

“Shut the fuck up! You won't be the first to die like this.” He told her.

“You shut the fuck up, you won't kill me, not that you can't, you just won't. You know you need me.” She pushed the gun off her head, “move sire.”

And they both walked quite a distance towards the door to his office. Their silent communication became a dangerous fun like thing, like something between predator and protégé, she waited for him to swipe his ID Card, he hesitated, but did, and they both walked in.

“I had a call,” Silas began, sitting on his chair and tapping away on his keyboard, “that we've got a problem with security.”

“A breach, you mean?”

“I don't know.” He replied.

“Then find it.”

“You don't fuckin' tell me what to do!” He stood up to her, but she didn't budge, and it annoyed him, he had no reason to kill her, he could though, but he had no reason to.

“What about Vance?” she asked.

“Do you work here?” Silas asked right back.

“Are you going to kill her or should I do it myself?” She protested.

“Listen, I'm taking my time. Okay? Who the fuck are you? Who sent you? You are getting close and I don't even know you. I…I don't even know if I should trust you.”

“You are Silas Volkov, and you should be smarter than this.” she said, giving him all the hint of who sent her, and he got it.

“The Architect, huh?”

She smiled, “Now you are talking, look, I'm not here to harm you, or hurt you, if I was, I would have done it a long time ago.”

“Where is The Architect?” Silas asked.

She didn't say a word, but began walking out into the hallway again, “Finish the job, and you'll find him. If you don't, I'll find Lena.”

“Don't fuckin' touch Lena,” he yelled, and ran after her into the hallway, “not you, not anyone!”

Kira turned around and fired a shot at Silas, not to kill him, but to stop him from coming out after her, the hallway was sound proof, so nobody heard what was going on in there. Silas managed to escape Kira's shot and hid back inside the office, behind a desk, he peeped and fired his, but Kira was gone, and his bullet narrowly missed Detective Miller.

Miller is a weary but incorruptible police officer who happened to be conducting his own independent surveillance on Vance. He's been around since morning, and at this time was already tired of questioning every employee he'd met. Miller caught a fleeting glimpse of Silas, as he hid behind a shelf, “Kira!” Silas yelled, thinking the shadow in the hallway was her, "this is not how it was supposed to be between us both.”

Detective Miller saw Silas Volkov in Vance's premises, and that left him shaken and more determined than ever.