A Cold Killing (Rosie Gilmour) by Anna Smith Page A

London.’
    Rosie gave him a sympathetic nod.
    ‘I’ve been on a diet for ten years anyway, so you’re doing me a favour . . . Ger—’ She paused. ‘Can I call you Gerard?’
    ‘Of course.’ He nodded.
    There was a little awkward moment as Rosie wondered if he was going to speak first, and when he didn’t she decided to start with a tactful question.
    ‘Gerard, have the police given you any kind of motive for or idea about why Tom was targeted in this way?’
    He said nothing, sipped his tea then looked at her.
    ‘They don’t have to. And, anyway, I don’t think the investigating officers have any idea what is going on.’
    Rosie gave him a confused look.
    He put his mug down on the table and took a deep breath then let it out slowly, examining the backs of his hands and picking at his fingernails, his eyes blinking several times as though he were afraid of what he was about to say but was at the same time bursting to say it.
    ‘Tom was assassinated, which we all know, Rosie. But . . . he was executed for a reason.’
    He went silent, either for effect, or because he was choosing his words carefully. Rosie waited, but he said nothing.
    ‘You mean, like the Eastern Europeans had been tracking him or something?’
    ‘Who knows for sure? How else would these men know we were in that café at that time? But there is more to it than that.’ He sat forward, clasping his hands, and looked Rosie in the eye. ‘Look. The only reason I let you in here is because you mentioned you knew about Katya.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What exactly do you know? Who have you spoken to?’
    ‘Well . . .’ Rosie swallowed, knowing she’d over-egged the pudding with her claim on the doorstep. ‘I spoke to a former student. Er . . . I don’t want to say who it is, Gerard, as I don’t want to betray her trust. But she did talk to me, and it was she who told me about Katya.’
    ‘Mari.’ He looked through her.
    Rosie didn’t answer and tried not to blink.
    He half smiled. ‘Ah Mari. Poor, beautiful, vivacious Mari. She fell for Tom the way everyone did – including me, if I’m honest. But then he met Katya and that was that, I’m afraid. Nothing was ever the same again.’
    Rosie didn’t really know where this was going, but she hoped he hadn’t let her into his house so he could talk to her about Mahoney’s philandering.
    ‘But who is Katya exactly?’ Rosie asked.
    Silence. Then Hawkins spoke.
    ‘Therein lies the story, Rosie.’
    Rosie waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. She felt a little stab of impatience.
    ‘Was Tom Mahoney a spy?’
    The question hung in the stillness of the room and Hawkins stared at the floor for so long Rosie glanced down in case there was something there. Then he raised his eyes slowly and looked at her.
    ‘Yes. He was.’
    ‘Really?’ Rosie hoped she didn’t sound as excited as she was. Silence again. He looked as though he was waiting for her to say more. She ventured, ‘I’ve been given information through a contact in London, suggesting that he was a spy. And that’s the truth, Gerard. So . . . so why do you think he was murdered?’
    Hawkins sighed, shaking his head, and didn’t speak for few seconds.
    ‘Because he was about to blow the whistle. He was about to go to the media over what happened to Katya. About everything. He was going to blow it all sky high.’ He picked up his mug and sipped from it. ‘The government couldn’t risk that.’
    A little wave of excitement flipped across Rosie’s stomach. She could see this on the front page.
    ‘Are you saying he was assassinated on the orders of the government?’
    Even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous.
    ‘Well, we’ll never prove that of course.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Or will we? Will you ever prove that?’
    ‘Not unless someone can give me a lot more than a claim that the government murdered him.’
    Hawkins stood up and crossed the room. He stared out of the window for a second, his back to Rosie. Then