The Pure

leather.
    ‘Liberty,’ said Uzi.
    ‘You’ve been doing your homework,’ she said in a languid American purr. ‘When we met, I said I was called Eve.’
    ‘I Googled you. You’ve obviously Googled me, too.’
    ‘You could say that,’ she said, a note of seeming warmth in her voice. ‘Join me here on the back seat, Adam.’
    Uzi paused and weighed up his options. If things turned nasty he didn’t stand much of a chance; Liberty was armed last time, and she was likely to be armed now as well, not to mention her men. He could try to talk his way out of it. But why? He had nothing to lose any more.
    He made his decision and got into the back of the car, sliding across the seat. Two of the men got in the front. The doors slammed with muffled thuds and Uzi had the sudden sensation of sitting inside a jewellery case. The engine whispered as the car moved off. There was a strong smell of aniseed. Liberty was wearing a white blouse this time, and gold gleamed at her throat and fingers. Her hair was twisted over one shoulder, exposing her caramel neck, and her eyes burnt with a dark fire. Her handbag was resting on her lap.
    ‘I heard what you did to Andrzej and his friends,’ she said. ‘Everyone’s talking about it. Very effective. Original, too. The number plates were a nice touch.’
    ‘I knew we were being watched.’
    ‘I’m impressed.’
    ‘Don’t patronise me, Liberty.’
    ‘Relax, Adam. Drink?’ she said, gesturing towards a minibar.
    ‘Vodka,’ said Uzi. ‘Can I smoke?’
    ‘This is England, remember?’
    He looked at her sharply.
    ‘OK, OK,’ she said, ‘if you must. I’ll have the car cleaned later.’
    Uzi lit the cigarette he had been holding between his teeth, accepted the vodka and sat back. Liberty arranged herself in the seat like a child about to watch a film, looking at him intently. She was holding a whisky tumbler containing a cloudy white liquid, in which was a bright red straw.
    ‘What’s that?’ he asked, blowing smoke from his nose.
    ‘Pernod and water.’
    ‘I thought I could smell aniseed,’ said Uzi. ‘Foul. Reminds me of Arak.’
    She regarded him levelly and he noticed the smallest of quivers in her lip. Then she laughed gently. ‘No accounting for taste.’
    ‘How do you know my real name?’ said Uzi.
    ‘Always so blunt,’ said Liberty, ‘you Israelis.’ She took a sip of her Pernod through the straw, looked out of the window, looked back. ‘You shouldn’t be asking me questions. You should be thanking me.’
    ‘What for?’
    She laughed again. ‘For saving your life.’
    ‘I don’t know who you are, or why you did what you did. But you want something, that’s for sure. You’re no Good Samaritan.’
    ‘Everybody wants something,’ said Liberty, touching him lightly on the arm.
    He drank the vodka and placed the empty glass in its holder. ‘Enough,’ he said. ‘Just talk.’
    Liberty leaned towards him. ‘I know who you are, Adam Feldman,’ she said, and sat back again, watching his face. ‘Now tell me what you know of me.’
    ‘I don’t know anything.’
    ‘Come on, Adam. You’re a spy.’
    ‘Not any more.’
    ‘Once a spy, always a spy. It’s a curse. You’re cursed.’
    ‘I’m less cursed than I was.’
    She sighed. ‘So you know that people call me Liberty,’ she said. ‘Do you also know that I’m ex-CIA?’
    ‘What do you want from me?’
    ‘I may be a black horse, but I still have contacts in the intelligence community. I’ve seen your CIA profile. We’re the same, you and I. Both ex-intelligence. Jewish. Both disillusioned with our governments. Both in the substance business, albeit on a different scale. Both out for ourselves now, and only ourselves. Fuck everyone else. Fuck the world. Am I right?’
    ‘You tell me.’
    ‘We’ve been trained to operate as machines. We’ve done things that took away our humanity. We know things that could get us killed.’
    ‘What do you want?’
    ‘OK, I’ll put my cards on the table. I want you to work with me. I’m running a gang of Russians, getting the goods into the UK, selling it on. I’m making a lot of money. And you know what that means: lots of people wanting a piece of the pie. I can’t trust these fucking Russians. I need someone who can speak their language, someone who has experience. Someone who isn’t scared of using direct methods where necessary. I want you to be my eyes and ears, to work to protect my interests.’
    ‘I protect my own interests.