Alex looks out of the window, all the surfers with their boards rammed under an arm as they make their way to the beach, mingling with the holidaymakers and the locals.
“I never heard of this place, Scheveningen, it’s like a resort.” Alex wishes he was on holiday here with Elian. “It’s a really nice place, prostitute killers aside.”
“It wasn’t always a nice place, in the Second World War the Germans invaded, took over them town for themselves. They built a wall, the Atlantikwall. They flooded our fields, made them like moats so Allied tanks couldn’t get in. The tunnels, they’re the most impressive though.” Erik looks over at Alex and Alex tilts his head in surprise at the animated look on the man’s face. For the first time since Naomi’s attack and the subsequent awful news of the baby that’s not Erik’s, he actually looks alert, interested. Alex always finds that this is the way with foreigners; they are so knowledgeable and proud of their history. Alex thinks of all the famous landmarks in London. Rarely does he talk about them. With a rueful smile Alex encourages Erik to talk further.
“What are the tunnels, like for tanks and military vehicles?”
Erik shakes his head emphatically. “No, man-made tunnels underground, separated by bunkers. The wall stretches thousands of kilometres, almost three-thousand, from Norway, through Denmark, the Netherlands, Belgium and France, right up to the border of Spain. The tunnels are a maze, at some points the rooms are still standing, actual bunker rooms, toilets, kitchen facilities, like you’ll still find a Nazi soldier in there, left over from the war. Some parts are blocked in now by fallen earth, but you can walk from Den Haag right down to Scheveningen Pier. It’s amazing, part of the tunnels are a museum now, down by the Wagenaarweg tram stop. It’s in a very nice neighbourhood, step off the grass verge and poof, tunnels and bunkers.” Erik broke off, squinted through the windscreen. “Here we are, Doctor Bastiaan’s office.”
Alex looks over to the row of slightly shabby buildings. He had been so caught up in Erik’s war-time story he hadn’t noticed that they had left the carefree, sunny area where he was staying and had arrived in someplace that looks distinctly seedier.
“It’s … different to Scheveningen.”
Erik nods as he takes the keys from the ignition. “This is Holland Spoor. This is where most of my police work happens.”
Alex gets it, better than anyone he knows the thin line that segregates an affluent area from a rough estate.
But as Alex gets out of the car he feels uneasy, in a way that he can’t even explain to himself. He looks around, up and down the deserted street, unable to shake the feeling that someone is watching him. When he turns around he sees that indeed, someone is watching him: Erik. And there must have been something on Alex’s face, as Erik is frowning in his direction.
“You all right?” he asks, gruffly.
Finally Alex remembers who he is, where he is, and why he is here.
Elian.
He straightens his shoulders, tries to remember who he used to be, because back then, when he was uncaring and unfeeling he did his job so much better.
“I’m ready, let’s go,” he replies, roughly.
58
ELIAN AND LEV
A BASEMENT IN HOLLAND SPOOOR
14.7.15 Dusk
“Why are you here?”
At the sound of his voice, a thousand bugs crawl over Elian’s skin and burrow inside her. Bile rises in her throat and she swallows it down. She thinks of the other words he has said to her, no – not to her, at her. About her.
But now, she sees he is not in control. He is no longer able to force her head down and climb on her back and rip at her clothes. Now he is tied up. Bound. Imprisoned.
A flare of something makes its way up her body, until it is quashed by the realisation that she, too, is tied up, bound and imprisoned.
Again.
But … why is he here, in this basement? She doesn’t know why she, herself is, but him, Lev? Has someone else discovered that he is the murderer, that he is the Scheveningen Street Strangler? Is whoever it is exacting a vigilante type justice?
But if so, why is she here, too?
“Do you live here? Is this where you come from?” Lev’s voice has risen an octave.
With a deep breath she replies, “No, I came here for you.” She lets a smile twitch at her full lips, though the action feels false and she’s sure he sees the tremor that runs through her body, it has the desired effect as she hears a sharp intake of breath from him. “But someone else got to you first, didn’t they?”
When he doesn’t answer her, she feels a little braver. “Why did you do it? Kill all those women? Is it your history, because you’ve forgotten the way that normal people live, out there in the Chernobyl wilderness?”
He snaps his head up, and in the darkness she can see the whites of his eyes.
“But my family there, they stayed there, they are still normal people. They didn’t turn into murderers.”
“What women? I didn’t …” His voice is a whine, high pitched, Elian wonders if he is pouting over there in the gloom.
“You did!” The rage is filling her now, sending pins and needles through her body that had felt numb for so long. “Gabi and Cilla and Amber,
