I thought for a long moment, keeping my eyes on her face.
'I should want to kill you.'
Sylvie pulled the lid from a can of hairspray, flicked her ash into it and gave the smile that had dazzled me in Berlin. It was still worth seeing.
'I guessed you’d wash up in London.'
'Is that why you came here?'
'Perhaps.'
'Perhaps?'
Sylvie shrugged.
'It’s a small world, smaller business. I guessed we’d run into each other sooner or later.'
Disbelief caught in the back of my throat.
'You guessed we’d run into each other?' She drew on her cigarette and her eyes narrowed against the smoke.
'You could of found me William, if you’d cared to look.' She laughed and held her hands out, indicating the tawdry room. 'Seek and you shall find.'
'Have you any idea of what you did to me, Sylvie?' I shook my head, stumbling for words. 'Christ, I don’t know what to ask first. Why or how? How? How did you manage it?'
Sylvie smiled wearily.
'Smoke and mirrors, auto-suggestion. I primed you, planted the seed that everything was going to go wrong, then when Dix set off the effect you believed it. You were on your knees and in shock practically before I hit the deck.'
'I still don’t understand. Why Sylvie? Did I do something to deserve it?'
She looked at her feet and wiggled her toes.
'Do you think we get what we deserve? No, you didn’t deserve it. It was necessary. The show was the price Dix had to pay to clear his debts.'
'Then why not let me in on it? I thought I’d killed you.' I added emphasis to my words.
'I thought I was a murderer. Have you any idea how horrible that feels?'
'I guess not.' She raised her head. 'Sorry, William, your reaction was central to the effect.' She smiled. 'You couldn’t have faked it.'
My voice was bitter.
'No, I guess not.'
Sylvie sighed.
'Dix got out of his depth. The men he was in debt to wanted to make a tape that would recoup what he owed and punish him at the same time.' She leant over and touched my hand. 'You were the opposite of a murderer and I was grateful… very grateful. I made Dix leave you a whole bunch of money.'
I slid my hand from under hers.
'Money I thought was covered in your blood.' Sylvie looked at her feet again and I asked, 'So Dix made on the deal?'
Her voice took on a brittle, jaunty tone.
'You know Dix, always an eye to an angle. For every official watcher there’ll be others in the wings, for every video there’ll be a dozen copies.'
The thought of the episode captured on countless tapes, trapped in the worldwide web, sweated over by an infinite audience of nameless viewers struck me. The realisation must have shown in my expression because Sylvie said, 'Don’t worry, the only face on show is mine.'
I forced my voice calm.
'How is Dix?'
Sylvie looked away.
'He’s fine.'
'A rich man?'
She smiled.
'You know money, it has a habit of evaporating.'
'Hence…'
I looked around at the dressing-room.
'Yes,' she smiled. 'Hence.'
'So,' I asked the question I’d wanted to know the answer to even in the first shock of our reunion, 'Dix is here with you?'
Sylvie nodded.
