HUCKLEBERRY HAX
Some children were playing in their socks on the glass, their parents watching them with a mixture of pride that their offspring were so trusting of the engineering and utter terror that, well, their offspring were so trusting of the engineering. Beneath them was a one hundred metre drop. I walked to the edge and looked down at the tiny dots moving around underneath us. It made me feel sick. She was looking at her watch. Another couple of loads of people from the elevator and she would probably start wondering if she’d been stood up. I’d come this far; it was inconceivable to me that I would now back out. But I could still back out. I could still walk away from the whole thing and, for a moment, I was sorely tempted. I had a strong feeling from somewhere that if I made contact with this woman then I would pass some sort of point of no return. When I’d left my flat in the morning, I’d actually wondered if I would ever see it again. Something in the back of my mind was repeating ‘Hewson’ over and over. Why had Hewson disappeared? What was it he’d said to me at the club that had unnerved me? Assumption was stunning, yes, and she looked perfectly ordinary. And yet she was a murderer, just like me. Two murders within a single room. I wondered if there were any more in the vicinity. Well, who knew? My heart thudding, I walked up to her. Our eyes met. She smiled. “Lyra,” she said. “Hello Assumption,” I replied, my mouth so sticky that it struggled to form the syllables.
223