‘Hey, sleeping beauty,’ says Viktor, as the Viking wakes. ‘Hey.’
The Viking opens his eyes, just a touch. Then closes them again, unable to immediately accept what he sees.
‘It’s OK,’ says Viktor. ‘You can open them. You want some water?’
The Viking opens his eyes once again, and tries to focus on Joyce’s carpet. With effort, he raises his head and looks towards Joyce. ‘You drugged me.’
‘I did,’ admits Joyce.
‘You said you wouldn’t,’ says the Viking.
‘Forgive me,’ says Joyce. ‘You were going to kill Viktor. And you’re very imposing.’
‘That is a fine beard,’ says Ibrahim. ‘How do you go about growing a beard such as that? Do you use oils?’
‘Maybe a question for another time, Ibrahim,’ says Viktor.
‘Anyone can grow a beard,’ says Ron.
Viktor gets down on his haunches. Ron remembers a time when he could get down on his haunches. Viktor has been lucky with his knees. ‘What’s your name, Viking?’
‘No one shall ever know my name,’ says the Viking.
‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ says Viktor.
‘No one shall ever speak my name,’ says the Viking, and lets out a roar.
‘Well, someone’s woken up,’ says Joyce. Alan wanders in from the bedroom to investigate the noise.
Ron gives Pauline a reassuring wink. She is sitting forward, enjoying the theatre.
‘Best date ever, Ron,’ she says.
‘Let’s talk about why you want to kill me so much,’ says Viktor. ‘OK?’
‘You will regret this,’ says the Viking. ‘Every one of you will regret this.’
‘I cost you money, I understand that,’ says Viktor. ‘I refuse to recommend you. But you understand why? Cryptocurrency is risky.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ says Joyce. ‘Someone’s been reading the mainstream media.’ She ruffles Alan’s hair. ‘Haven’t they, Alan? Yes, they have.’
‘You’re living in the past,’ says the Viking.
‘There is truth in that,’ says Viktor. ‘I live where I am comfortable. I live where my skills are. You will be the same in thirty, forty years. Talking about cryptocurrency while the youngsters laugh at you. But you know what is good for you here? I live in the past because I’m old. I am old, my Viking friend, and you know what that means? It means you don’t have to kill me, you just have to be patient. The cells in my body, they atrophy as we speak. Everyone you see before you will be dead before you know it.’
‘Keep it light, Viktor,’ says Pauline.
‘So I’m a fool. So I’m in your way, I cost you some money.’ Viktor shrugs. ‘You’re doing OK, I heard about your house. Just go about your business – you do it well, I know. You know why no one has killed me yet?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I never kill anyone,’ says Viktor. ‘Honestly, once you start, that’s it, you have to keep killing.’
‘That’s like lip salve,’ says Pauline. ‘Once you start using it, your lips dry out, and so you have to keep using it.’
Viktor gestures towards Pauline to show his point is proven. ‘So here is my suggestion. You get on with your life, launder money, enjoy your house, don’t kill people. I’ll get on with my life, do my job, then die of natural causes in five to seven years if you’re lucky.’
‘And if I disagree? If I still think you cost me too much money?’
‘Then kill me,’ says Viktor. ‘I’ll put the word out today, to my many friends and associates, that you wish to kill me. And when my body is found, they will come to their own conclusions, and they will track you down and murder you.’
A key turns in Joyce’s door. Viktor throws himself on the ground, pointing his gun towards it. As it opens, Bogdan walks in, and Viktor reholsters the gun. Walking behind Bogdan is Stephen, looking very dapper in a suit. The Viking is focusing on Viktor, however.
‘Your friends won’t find me,’ says the Viking. ‘No one knows me. Look at you, a KGB colonel, and you have found out nothing about me. And you’ – he turns to Elizabeth – ‘an MI6 officer, you have found out nothing about me. I am a ghost. You can’t kill a ghost.’
As the Viking makes his speech, Ron sees Stephen take a seat on one of Joyce’s dining chairs. He pulls a notepad out of his pocket. Ron sees that Stephen’s hands are shaking. But not from fear.
‘Ghost are you, chief?’ says Stephen, tapping his notebook. He has the immediate attention of the room. ‘Nice to see you again by the way. This is the Viking you were talking about, then, Elizabeth.’
‘Yes, dear,’ says Elizabeth. ‘The very one.’
‘Henrik Mikael Hansen, born in Norrk?ping on 4 May 1989.’ Stephen reads from his notebook. ‘Mum a pastry chef, dad a librarian. What do you say to that?’
‘You are wrong,’ says Henrik Mikael Hansen of Norrk?ping. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m Swedish, but apart from that. No one is a pastry chef.’
‘You love books, Henrik,’ says Stephen. ‘I love them too. You have quite the collection. A lot of them unique. And with unique books you can usually find a record of their sale. Nowadays you buy them all through a holding company, but, when you first started collecting, you used your own name, and that’s how we discovered your identity. It was a first edition of Wind in the Willows that gave you away.’
‘No,’ says Henrik. ‘This is impossible.’
‘Far from it, Henrik. It is an admirable way to get caught, at least. Once we had the name, everything else fell into our laps. Your sister is currently skiing, for example,’ says Stephen. ‘That’s from Facebook.’
‘Stephen,’ says Elizabeth. ‘Stephen.’
‘Just doing my bit,’ says Stephen. ‘Mainly Kuldesh. We owe them dinner.’
‘You’ve really been to see Kuldesh?’
‘I told you I had,’ says Stephen.
‘Yes, I –’ says Elizabeth.
‘We drove down,’ says Bogdan. ‘Was a secret.’
Elizabeth fixes Bogdan with a stare. ‘Full of little secrets at the moment, aren’t you, Bogdan?’
Everyone else has turned to look at Henrik Hansen.
Ron is glad he was invited to witness this whole scene. Previously it’s the sort of thing Elizabeth and Joyce would have taken care of themselves, only to fill him in the next morning. He is aware he hasn’t yet been helpful, but he is grateful to be in the room.
‘I am not Henrik Hansen,’ says Henrik Hansen.
‘I think you probably are,’ says Elizabeth. ‘My husband doesn’t get an awful lot wrong.’
‘Henrik, we can be friends,’ says Viktor. ‘Or, if not friends, then acquaintances who choose not to kill each other. If you leave me in peace, I will make sure my many clients leave you in peace too.’
‘No, I am not Henrik,’ says Henrik again, his anger rising. ‘You are all wrong, and you are all dead. Every single one of you.’
‘Henrik,’ says Joyce, kindly, ‘you couldn’t even kill me.’
‘Then I won’t kill all of you. I will kill one of you,’ says Henrik. ‘Yes. As a lesson for the others. The second you let me go, the hunt begins.’
Henrik’s eyes scan the room, looking for prey. They settle on Ron.
‘You,’ says Henrik. ‘I will kill you.’
Ron rolls his eyes. ‘It’s always me.’
‘You will never see me coming,’ says Henrik.
Pauline stands, slowly and calmly. She walks over to Henrik and places a hand on either side of his face. The room falls silent.
‘Henrik, listen to me carefully, my darling. I’ve met a thousand men like you, and I know you need things spelled out for you. So here goes. If you even dream of touching a hair on Ron’s head, I will kill you. That man is under my protection, and if any harm comes to him I will put bullets in your knees, and then in your elbows, and then, when I’ve tired of hearing you screaming, which will take a long, long time, I will put a bullet in your head to finish you off. In fact, if Ron wakes up with so much as a cough, I will find you, and I will cut out your heart and eat it. And I will send the video evidence to your mum, the pastry chef. Do we have the beginnings of an understanding?’
Henrik is losing heart quickly. He points at Ibrahim now. ‘Then I will kill him.’
Pauline squeezes his face even tighter. ‘That’s Ron’s best friend. Which makes him my best friend too.’