In the end, they flew to Canada separately. With his Canadian passport open, Anna trimmed his beard and hair so he looked a little bit more like the photo. Then he packed his travel bag, donned one of the new suits paid for on Dieter Römermann's tab and left her at the hotel room door with a lingering kiss.
"Be careful," he said.
"Always," she answered.
"I'll pick you up at the airport in Montreal tomorrow, okay? I'll think about this, I'll come up with something."
Anna nodded and raised a hand to cup his cheek.
"Don't think too much," she said. "We'll find a way, we always do."
He dipped his head down and rested his forehead against hers for a moment, then straightened up and left.
Anna knew her German passport was good and her backstory was solid, but it didn't stop her feeling nervous as she passed through immigration. She tried to look impatient, but not nervous; just bored enough to look mildly irritated, but not irritated enough to look suspicious. She answered officials' questions politely, all the time aware that she didn't know whether her name or face or passport number had been placed on some warning list or would signal some alert. But nothing happened. She was checked and waved through, collected her small suitcase and made her way out of the terminal to the carpark.
John was waiting by his car, leaning against the driver's door, watching the cars going in and out of the carpark. It was bitterly cold, he was wearing a thick black scarf around his neck, his old leather jacket was pulled tight around him. Anna moved faster when she saw him, wanting to get into the warm car and be near him again. When he spotted her, he stood up and a look of pleasure crossed his face before he seemed to shake himself and settle his features into a more neutral expression. By the time she was standing in front of him, he had a guarded smile on his face and Anna knew something was wrong.
"What's up?" she said by way of greeting.
"Nothing. Get in, it's cold."
He took her bag and stowed it in the trunk of the car. Anna slipped inside and fiddled with the heaters.
"Did you have a nice flight?" he asked politely and then, "We're heading straight for New York. If we leave now, we'll be there by nightfall. There won't be much border traffic on a Tuesday evening. That okay by you?"
"Sure," she answered distractedly. "Are you okay, John?"
She wriggled around in her seat so she was facing him, then reached a hand out to touch his leg.
"Yes, fine," he said and moved his leg, pressing the gas pedal. Anna pulled her hand back as though she'd been stung.
"I told you not to think," she said icily. "That included not thinking about what happened between you and me and what this thing between us is and what's going to happen between us. And what did you do? Spent the night brooding about it like a damn pre-teen. For fuck's sake, John."
He said nothing.
"I know you, man. I bet you were awake half the night, fretting. What's going on between us? What does this mean? What would Helen say?"
"Leave Helen out of it," he muttered.
"How can I leave her out?" Anna snapped. "What do you think Helen would say? Did you come to any conclusions in your long, sleepless night?"
He didn't answer, he just signalled to overtake a car in front of him, his eyes fixed on the road. Anna stared at him, his straight nose, dark hair falling into his dark eyes, and he tried to ignore her. But the very pale pink that tinged his cheeks was the telltale sign that she was bothering him. She looked away, out her window, too annoyed to make him squirm.
"You never told me you met her," he said finally and Anna whipped her head around.
"What?"
"Before she died, Helen said she met you. Like, a long time ago. Before we were married."
This time, Anna felt her cheeks redden.
"Yeah. So? What did she say?"
"She just told me that she met you and you talked. She said you were nice."
Anna snorted. "Yeah, right."
"So what did happen?"
"It's a long time ago, it doesn't matter any more."
"It matters to me," he said quietly.
"Fine, okay. So, one night I was coming back from a job – this was before I hooked up properly with Pfeiffer, I was doing some smaller jobs for the Agency till they could reassign me. I get back to the Continental and Charon just gives me a look – you know that look? – and says, 'Madam, there is a lady here to see you about Mr Wick.'
Yeah, so I look around and there she is, sitting at one of the little tables looking absolutely terrified. Bear in mind that I've just come in from a job, so I'm covered in blood and God-knows-what-else, but Char gives me the once over and a nod, so I know I'm not dripping brains or whatever. I went over and sat down opposite her."
Anna stopped and closed her eyes for a second. Helen had been wearing a pair of cream pants and a darker cream shirt, rolled up to her elbows to reveal her neatly manicured hands and the tasteful gold watch that hung loosely around her wrist, moving up and down her arm like a bangle. In the dark foyer of The Continental, where people hung about in dark corners and darker clothes, she looked as bright and unsullied as an angel. Her face, when she saw Anna, was curious and apologetic. As Anna pretended to fix the cushion on the chair before she sat down, she was aware that the other woman was taking her all in: the long, tightly-fitting black coat with the double-breasted buttoned-front, the high black boots and the skin-tight black jeans beneath them. With her hair chopped short and dyed a dark plum, Anna was aware that she looked like the antithesis of the other woman, who was smiling at her reassuringly, the way you might carefully approach a vicious dog.
"Are you Anna Quinn?" she asked.
"Depends on who's asking," Anna answered.
The woman laughed apologetically and introduced herself – her name was Helen. She was a friend of John's, John Wick. A good friend. Well, more than a friend. They were engaged.
And she held out her hand to show Anna the ring, a band of gold with a cluster of smaller diamonds around a big one. Rumours were true: John was doing well.
"How can I help you?" Anna asked, not bothering to examine it.
"I ... I'm looking for some information," she said. "About John."
She raised her chin up, a touch defiantly.
"Has he gone missing or something?" Anna said, playing dumb.
"No, it's just that ... well, can I be honest with you?"
"Knock yourself out."
"He doesn't tell me much about himself. I mean, he tells me about himself but he won't tell me what he does for a living, except to say he works in security. He seems to make a lot of money for a guy who works in security."
She laughed, a fake laugh that rang tinny in the muted silence of the foyer.
Anna looked at her, assessing her.
"How did you get my name? Why are you asking me about him?" she asked.
Helen bit her upper lip, leaving a trace of her carefully-applied lipstick on her teeth.
"He had the flu a couple of weeks ago and he was taking some really strong medication. I guess it made him a bit loopy because he woke in the middle of the night and he called me Quinn. He kept saying, 'Is someone there, Quinn?'"
Anna felt a trickle of icy cold run down her back.
"I found your number on his phone. Actually, your number was disconnected but he'd saved the number of this place under your name as well. So I just came here and that nice gentleman told me to wait."
She glanced up at Mr Charon and smiled. He smiled his courteous smile in return; Anna glared at him through slitted eyes and he looked away, suddenly busy with his computer.
"I kind of figured you might be a woman if he expected to find you in his bed, but I was really hoping you wouldn't be."
Again, the apologetic laugh.
"I guess I was just hoping you might be able to tell me about the business he is – you are – involved in."
She bit her lip once more. "I know it sounds crazy, I know you must think I'm one of those crazy stalkery women – but before I marry him, you know..."
Anna looked at her. She had a nice smile – a kind smile. She looked like the kind of woman who laughed at his jokes, stared at him adoringly, did stuff with him that bored Anna to tears – go to the opera or to the theatre to watch dour Scandinavian plays, trail around churches and cathedrals wondering if arches were Gothic or Romanesque. She probably made him happy, with her kind smile and sweet disposition, no biting remarks or sarcasm. No teasing or good-natured taunting. Anna suddenly felt happy for him – she felt relieved, if truth be told. She looked at the anxious woman in front of her and smiled brightly, sitting up carefully so her coat wouldn't open and reveal the blood splatters beneath.
"No, I understand perfectly," she said. "To an outsider, it probably seems very cloak and dagger-ish, yeah?"
Helen nodded.
"I presume he told you that we do high-end security detail, am I right?"
It was the standard tale trotted out to any curious family members or friends.
"Well," Anna said in the same bright tone, "that's basically it. He and I were often paired up to work together and we covered some people from the upper echelons of society. Politicians. Business people." She lowered her voice. "Celebrities."
Helen's eyes widened.
"We'd have to stand in as decoys when things get a bit hairy or if they receive some kind of threat. There are some serious nutjobs out there, you know. And, obviously, in our business, people pay top dollar for absolute secrecy. We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone, not even our partners or spouses."
She smiled sympathetically at Helen. "Suffice it to say, it's a lot less exciting than it sounds. A lot of waiting around, hoping something exciting will happen."
Helen smoothed her pants, straightening the wrinkles with her hands.
"That's a relief," she said. "I just thought – I was just afraid he was doing something – " she lowered her voice, "- illegal."
"John? Do something illegal? He wouldn't even park illegally," Anna cried.
Helen laughed in agreement.
"Well, he's planning on a career change in a year or two, so we can, you know, spend more time together. Maybe plan a family," she added shyly.
Anna's stomach sank. John had obviously not told her that he would never have children; children made you vulnerable. Children were the chink in the armour of any professional, even a retired one. This woman would never be a mother, at least not with this man.
The other woman hesitated, then said, "And can I ask you one last thing?"
"Sure," Anna replied, knowing the question before it was even asked.
"Were you and him... I mean, were you two ever – "
"Lovers?" she supplied. "Ugh, no. No offence but, um, no. So not my type."
Helen laughed again, but this time it was a real laugh and it rang out across the lobby, causing other people to look up and look appreciatively at the woman in cream.
Helen apologised again for coming but Anna brushed the apology off, standing up to show the conversation was over.
"Congratulations on your engagement," she said. "I'm sure you two will be very happy together."
Helen's face shone. "He's very special," she said. "I'm lucky to have found him, he's such a sweet and gentle guy."
To avoid comment, Anna smiled.
"Give him my best regards," she said, but the future Mrs Wick looked at her purse, fiddling with the clasp, and Anna suddenly realised that this conversation would never be reported to their mutual acquaintance. Which was fine by her. She took her leave and watched Helen leave, her dark hair swinging, smiling politely at the people who looked up to watch her pass. She walked down the steps of the Continental and back to her life with John.
When she turned, Mr Charon was staring at her, his face implacable and unreadable. She glared at him again, but this time he held her gaze for a moment or two before turning slowly from her to look at his computer screen.
- - -
"So what did she want?" John asked gruffly.
"She wanted me to confirm that you were, in fact, a bodyguard for Russian oligarchs," she said lightly. "She just wanted reassurance that you weren't doing anything illegal."
"And that's what you told her?"
"Of course."
He drove on in silence, then said, "Thank you."
Anna nodded.
"She liked you," John said suddenly. "She didn't tell me about it till she was dying, but she said you were very beautiful. Like a doll, she said."
It made Anna feel embarrassed. Over the years she'd heard that she was attractive, though mostly from people who wanted something from her. Or with her. The dead woman's assessment of her appearance was strangely touching.
"And this is what you've been torturing yourself with?" Anna snapped. "Worrying about what Helen would think?"
He sighed.
"It's very soon," he said finally. "I'm not over her, Anna. It's too fresh. It was a mistake."
Anna turned her face from him and looked at the window.
"Fine," she said.
"I need time," he said in a conciliatory tone. "Just give me time."
"Yeah." It came out a bitter monosyllable. "Take all the time you need. It's the one thing we have lots of."
He glanced over at her.
"Not," she added and switched on the car radio. "I'm sick of this conversation. Do you want me to drive? Otherwise, I'm going to sleep."
"No, sleep," he answered. "I'll wake you at the border."
She turned her back to him and place a hand under her cheek, closing her eyes.
John glanced at her once or twice but he couldn't see her face. He turned back to the road ahead and drove on.