PART ONE - LONDON
- 6 -
Gabe let out an audible sigh of relief as the taxi pulled away and left the two tall, angry men standing by the roadside far behind. It was only then that he was able to collect his thoughts and turn to his companion on the back seat. He suddenly realised that he was now basically alone with the woman he had considered dangerous and potentially violent. He had told nobody what he was doing. He could just disappear completely and nobody would know. Still, at least now was a chance to confront her, to understand finally what on earth was going on here. He opened his mouth to speak but she got in first.
"So," she turned to him, an edge of aggression in those precise, educated tones, "Who the hell are you? And why the fuck are you following me?"
The swearword sounded odd, out of place in her well-educated accent, giving it perhaps an extra edge. Gabe was shocked. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't figure out what on earth to say. It wasn't important anyway, as she seemed quite happy to carry on.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for you helping me out of that sticky situation back there, but I don't take kindly to being stalked. I can take care of myself pretty well, especially from the likes of you, pretty boy," she glared at him, a challenge obvious in her voice.
"I think you're the one who owes me an explanation," Gabe shot back, given courage by her aggressive delivery, "I've just saved your life, the least you could do is tell me who those guys were and what this is all about?"
"Me? How the fuck should I know?" she said, seeming genuinely surprised that he would expect her to be aware of the situation, "They just came out of fucking nowhere. I'm just minding my own bloody business and still I seem a target for any perv and sicko who fancies their chances."
She shot Gabe a glance to indicate that she didn't entirely consider him exempt from this categorisation. He decided to go on the offensive, to lay before her what he knew about her involvement in the murder that was plastered across all the papers.
"Hmm, maybe it's got something to do with the murder," he said, getting progressively angrier and red in the face, "You know, the one at the National Gallery that everybody's talking about. The one where you were seen fleeing the scene of the crime. The one where the victim drew the symbol on your tattoo onto the wall. Maybe, it's something to do with that."
"How the bloody hell do you know what's on my tattoos?" she said equally angrily, she was wearing a leather jacket today that completely covered her arms so the symbol was not visible, "Or that I witnessed the murder? How long have you been following me for, freak?"
Gabe hadn't been expecting this level of aggressive defensiveness or these counter accusations. Still, he knew that he had to keep up the pressure, he could be close to discovering the truth.
"So, you don't deny it then?" he countered, "That the symbol on your tattoo matches the one the victim drew on the wall?"
"Which tattoo? What are you talking about?"
He grabbed her jacket and yanked it open and half way down her arm, revealing the bare skin and some of her different tattoos. On her left upper arm, he saw the circle and the cross he was looking for. As he leaned in for a closer look, she hit him. It was a forceful punch that landed square on his jaw and sent him back to the other side of the taxi.
"Back off, creep," she said, both of them now as confrontational as each other.
"There!" he pointed at the inked design on her arm and demanded accusingly "That's the one. Just the same as the dead girl drew. What is it? What does it mean? Some sort of conspiracy? A secret order?"
"Ha!" she laughed loudly in his face, her anger seeming mixed with genuine mirth, "That!" she pointed at her arm, jabbing the symbol with her index finger, "That is the symbol for female, you idiot! It means womanhood. Feminism. That's your secret fucking society. The international conspiracy of womankind not to be molested by creeps in the back of cabs!"
Gabe backed off. His mind was spinning with thoughts. Now that he looked again at the completely uncovered tattoo, he could tell that it wasn't quite the same as the symbol drawn in blood. The circle with a cross beneath it was all there was, the dead woman's symbol had an arrow pointing from the other side of the circle. He didn't know what to think. The main reason for his suspicions over this woman had just been blown out of the water and yet she had just been attacked in public by a couple of thugs clearly after her for something.
