Katarina

By Peter Barns

Pursued by a shadowy organisation, the young Katarina fights for her life.

Pio wants a quiet life back in England.
Mary and Julita want a successful life for their daughter.
Katarina wants to know why she's so different from those around her.

Miles wants them all dead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peter Barns
• Release date: May 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005121167

Peter Barns

Author - Poet - VersifierBorn in Harlsden on the outskirts of London in 1943, Peter Barns spent his formative years living beside Regent's Park.Educated at a Secondary Modern school, he left with just one qualification in 'O' Level Art.Passing through a variety of occupations after leaving school, he finally ended up working in the construction industry as an electrician. After taking his City & Guilds, he became an electrical engineer and spent the next twenty years working on building sites. Somewhere in there he got married and divorced - a couple of times - and had two children.He moved to the Highlands of Scotland in the late 1980's along with his partner. With the move came a new occupation - counselling people with alcohol and drug problems - which he did for six years before managing a charitable company recycling redundant computers back into the community.Now retired he spends his time writing, and refurbishing houses.I love my mind: it takes me to fabulous places where strange creatures roam. A land unseen and unexplored. A visage reflecting the faces I've seen, the words I've heard and dreams yet to come.Peter Barns 2014

Book preview

Chapter 1

No Kat, push that key. There, that's it. Julita smiled, watching her daughter's face light up when Pio appeared on the iPad.

Well say hello, poppet.

Hi, Uncle Pio. Katarina waved her hand, acting grown up in front of her uncle. And don't call me poppet. My name's Katarina.

My and don't you look all dressed up with nowhere to go.

But I have somewhere to go, Uncle Pio. I'm going on a school trip today.

Really? I didn't think you were old enough yet.

Katarina sighed and turned to Julita. Tell him mum!

Pio, stop teasing. It's enough of a job getting her to school as it is, without your wind ups.

What's this, don't like school?

All the kids are so boring and childish, Pio. Another sigh.

Julita frowned. Uncle Pio, if you don't mind, young lady.

Pio chuckled. Ducking out of sight, he reappeared with a parcel in his hand. He shook it, a big smile on his face.

What's that, Uncle Pio?

It's a present for the birthday girl, but before I post it I need to know she's been good enough to get it. Pio raised his eyebrows, dark brown eyes twinkling.

Oh, I have, haven't I mum? Tell him. Please!

Julita, surprised by the small child now staring from her daughter's eyes, smiled. Yes, you deserve it, darling.

See? See? Katarina pleaded into the screen.

Right then, poppet. It's on its way. Now I need a word with your mummy on her own. Okay?

It's my birthday party, isn't it? Katarina bounced up and down in excitement.

Pio chuckled, tilting his hand back and forth. Maybe, maybe not.

Julita tousled her daughter's hair. Why don't you cut along to the kitchen and see how Mary's getting on with your breakfast, so your Uncle Pio and I can have a little chat?

Katarina ran off across the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She was an exuberant child, full of energy and disturbingly adult in her behaviour, but Pio always brought out the little girl in her.

You okay, Julita?

Pio's question cut across Julita's thoughts. Huh? She swept a hand through her hair and nodded. Oh yeah. Fine.

She's a sweet kid.

Yes, she is. Mary and I have been lucky.

Luck has nothing to do with it. You're just great mothers.

And yet... Julita hesitated, not sure where she was going with the thought.

Something wrong?

No, it's just me being anxious, I guess. What was it you wanted to talk about?

I'm coming back to the UK next week. I've decided to start a security company there. With the contacts I've made in Kabul over the last five years, and the money I've put by, I reckon I'm ready. Before I do, I wanted to check if it was okay to stay with you for a couple of months. Just until I find a place of my own.

That's wonderful. Of course you can. There's room enough. You can have the spare bedroom. I'll give it a lick of paint before you get here. When where you and Sarah thinking of coming over?

Thanks sis, that's nice of you. But I'm afraid it'll only be me.

Will she be coming over later?

Sarah won't be coming at all. It'll be me and my trusty bergan.

Julita frowned. When would her brother settle down? And why did he have so much trouble committing to relationships? Whenever things got serious, he always backed away.

Okay sis, enough frowns. Things are what they are, okay?

I want to be an aunty someday.

Huh, fat chance of that. Anyway, gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow with the details. Will you be in? And don't tell Kat. I want it to be a surprise. I'm planning to be there for her birthday.

That'd be fabulous, Pio. She'll love that. And yes, I've got a shift off tomorrow, so I'll be in all afternoon.

Bye sis.

Bye, Pio. And thanks for Skyping. Kat really enjoys talking to you.

And me her. See you soon.

Julita sat awhile, staring at the screen where a few minutes before her brother's striking face looked out at her. She closed the lid and placed the laptop on the dressing table, then smoothed the front of her skirt. Just time to enjoy a quick bowl of breakfast flakes before taking Kat to school.

As she made her way along the corridor to the kitchen, her thoughts returned to her daughter's unusual behaviour over the past few weeks. She wasn't being naughty or anything like that — far from it — it was... Not completing the thought, she opened the kitchen door.

* * *

Mary looked up from the sandwich she was making. Julita entered, giving her one of those looks. What? she asked.

Julita stood facing her, hands on hips, legs spread. She was a striking woman. Thirty-three, slim, small-breasted, 178 centimetres, olive skinned, diamond shaped face under dark brown hair worn in a ponytail. It was her full lips and unusual green eyes that drew Mary to her when they first met eleven years earlier. No wonder she fell head-over-heels in love.

Kat has to go to school this morning, Mary, not this afternoon. Why on earth are you preparing so many sandwiches? We're not feeding the entire street. A quick snack would have done.

Mary shrugged. I don't know. She glanced at Katarina, who was listening with eyes far too intelligent for a small child. It's... She searched for an explanation that Julita might understand, but couldn't think of one.

Julita tipped her head, smiling at their daughter. Okay darling, let's get you some breakfast, shall we?

Yes, mum.

Right? Julita checked with Mary.

Mary shrugged, smiled and nodded. When Julita took control, it made her feel safe and warm.

* * *

Pio stared through the small window. The clouds were deep; big boiling puffs of white, streaked with grey. The pilot announced he was preparing to descend, and passengers should return to their seats. They would land in twenty minutes.

The flight from Kabul to London, Heathrow, via Istanbul, had taken twelve hours, during which Pio worried about his sister. He checked his watch. Just after four pm. He wondered when Julita's shift finished and whether she'd be free to pick him up.

Pio and Julita were close. Being twins gave them a unique bond. He knew when something was amiss with her. It was a feeling shared by both. He frowned, remembering when she was stabbed as a youngster. It was like somebody had stabbed him. The memories made him think about their childhood and the various orphanages they were in as children. Their parents died in a train crash when they were Katarina's age.

Thoughts of Katarina brought a faint smile to his lips. She was a gifted girl. Precocious, but great to be around. Not that he was around much during her childhood. Since his discharge from the army, his work in Kabul had kept him busy, but that was going to change. When he got his new company off the ground, he'd make time to be part of her life.

He sat back and closed his eyes, trying to unburden his mind; right now, a useless exercise. During the past few months, a dread had grown on him; an ache gnawing away at his guts. Even in his worst moments serving in Afghanistan, it hadn't been this bad.

Somehow it was connected to his sister. Something dreadful was going to happen. It was the reason he was going home.

* * *

I'm sorry sir, I still don't follow. Fraser said.

Miles pursed his lips. He was getting increasingly agitated with his second-in-command. The man lacked any imagination. He could follow orders to the letter, but had no ability for lateral thinking. Pursing his lips, he wondered if it was worth the effort of trying to make Fraser understand. He was stuck with him now, so had to make the best of the situation.

Look, I know she's only a young child, but she's dangerous, Miles said. She's on the loose somewhere, and if we don't find her, she could do irreparable damage.

Yes, I understand what you're saying, sir. I just don't see how a small child could cause that much chaos.

Miles realised he'd either have to share the ultra-secret information with Fraser, or run the operation on his own. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he considered his dilemma.

Okay. What I'm about to tell you stays in this office, Fraser. It'll be hard to believe at first. Hell, I had trouble believing it when I first got involved in this project, even when faced with the proof. Let me start by showing you something. He tapped at his computer keyboard for a few minutes, entering several keywords to gain access to the information he wanted. Okay, he said, turning the screen so Fraser could see. This recording was made in 1973 at the Canadian Secret Intelligence Service's HQ in Ottawa, Ontario. There's no sound, but that doesn't matter. What I want you to concentrate on is the interrogator's actions.

The screen showed a large room. A metal table stood in the middle. A middle-aged man sat at it, his wrists restrained by thick leather straps, handcuffed to a bar attached to the tabletop. His ankles were cuffed to the metal chair. A slim man sat on the opposite side of the table, holding a thick stick.

That's a cattle prod, Miles commented. The forerunner to our modern taser. Gives quite a nasty jolt. Miles tapped a key. The video started. It was grainy and jerky. Watch the interrogator, he said.

The slim man asked a question. The prisoner stared at him, unmoving. Leaning forward, the man jabbed the prod into the prisoner's forehead, drawing blood. The prisoner's eyes rolled upward until only the whites showed. His body jerked in spasms, blood and froth issuing from his mouth. The prisoner had bitten his tongue, but the interrogator kept up the attack, allowing him no respite.

What...?

Just watch, Miles ordered.

The interrogator dropped the prod and stood up, his body rigid. He stared down at the prisoner, unmoving. The prisoner's eyes flickered open, locking onto his tormentor.

How the hell is he still conscious? Fraser muttered.

Shh.

The slim man struggled to move, every muscle in his body jerking and shaking. The prisoner's mouth twitched, turning into a gentle smile, one that in other circumstances would be beatific.

And here it comes, Miles said, almost breathing his words.

Turning towards the wall, the interrogator lowered his head and ran full tilt at it. Even though he knew what was coming, Miles closed his eyes as the man's head connected with the hard surface. He knew from Fraser's sharp intake of breath when the man's skull cracked. Bouncing off the wall, the man regained his balance, backed across the room, then repeated his head down run. This time, he slid down the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base. Blood and brains left a long, wet trail down the plasterwork. A few seconds later the door burst open and three guards rushed in, their weapons on automatic fire. The prisoner practically disintegrated under the hail of bullets. Miles stopped the recording and sat back, looking at Fraser with raised eyebrows. He could see from the whiteness of Fraser's face how shocked he was.

The interrogator had a psychotic episode and killed himself. Okay, I get that. It's unusual, I grant you. But why shoot the prisoner, and in such a manner? Christ, there was hardly anything left of him when they'd finished!

Miles gave a heavy sigh. You're missing the point, Fraser. That man, the prisoner, was at the height of his powers. The interrogator didn't commit suicide, he was murdered. The prisoner used the own man's fears against him. Leaning forward, Miles stared hard into Fraser's eyes. It takes a long time for them to develop their powers to such a height. But now we have a ten-year-old girl at almost the same stage of development. Miles paused, taking a shuddering breath. Can you understand how dangerous she is, Fraser? Why we have to destroy her before she destroys us?

Who the hell are these people? Fraser whispered.

Chapter 2

Julita drove the small Fiat 500 through the London traffic on her way home from her weekly Krav Maga classes. Cyclists were weaving in and out of the congested traffic. One clipped her wing mirror. She slapped the horn, receiving a middle finger in response. She shook her head, turning into the mews towards her flat, car tyres rumbling over flint cobblestones.

She left the car parked against the tiny kerb and opened a small door set into the larger double garage doors. Flicking on the lights, she made her way across the concrete floor, passed Mary's cute little ForTwo electric car. The ridiculously compact car inevitably made Julita chuckle, and the smile was still on her lips as she ascended the steep staircase to the flat above. She called out a greeting.

Hello my lovely, Mary responded from the kitchen. How did the class go today? Is that attractive Jewish instructor of yours still trying to convert you back to the straight and narrow?

Julita entered the kitchen and shook her head. It's about time you came along and found out for yourself, you lazy girl.

Mary giggled. If you think you'll get me throwing men over my shoulder, you've got another think coming. At any rate, I've always found an engaging smile gets me out of trouble. No need for all that aggression.

Turning on the coffee machine, Julita grabbed a small cup and saucer from the overhead cupboard by the sink. It not about that, Mary. It helps get rid of the weight I keep piling on after eating all your dinners!

Yeah, that's what you say. Oh, I'm delighted to hear your brother will make it over for Kat's birthday. It'll be nice to see him again.

And you're certain you don't mind him using the spare room until he gets settled back in?

Mary crossed the small kitchen and stood behind Julita as she poured herself a double shot of coffee. She wrapped her arms round Julita's waist, snuggling her face into the back of her neck. As long as you're here, that's all I care about. You and Kat. You know you're my world, right?

Turning, Julita pecked Mary on the lips and tapped the end of her nose. And you're mine. She leant back in Mary's arms, studying her face.

Mary raised her eyebrows, nodding towards the bedroom.

Julita giggled, checking the wall clock hanging above the kitchen table. No time. We have to pick Kat up in half-an-hour.

Mary laughed. Since when have you ever lasted half-an-hour?

Come on, cut it out. You want an espresso before I have my shower?

Yuck. I don't know how you can drink that stuff, but an Americano would go down nicely right now.

* * *

The weather had turned bitter, threatening snow again. Julita wrapped her thick coat tighter.

You know I enjoy it when we can both pick up Kat from school like this, Mary said, breath condensing on the frosty air.

Julita pecked her on the cheek, ignoring the disapproving glances from some mothers gathered around the school gate. Yeah, so do I. It's a shame so few of my shifts allow me to do it.

Perhaps when you make Matron, you'll have more time?

Looking at the standard of the nurses we're getting these days, probably less. In any event, I have to pass the exams first.

Mary took Julita's hand and squeezed it. Oh, you will. You're the brainy one.

Look, there she is.

The next minute a bundled up little girl threw herself into Mary's arms. Oh, I'm so glad to see you mummy. You too mum, she said, looking at Julita.

Julita studied her daughter's anxious face. What's happened, Kat? Has someone upset you?

Katarina cuddled further into Mary's arms, shaking her head.

The first time her daughter did this Julita was jealous, but over the years she'd learnt when Kat became upset she invariably turned to Mary, seeking comfort in her arms. Now Julita joked Mary was their Earth Mother.

So, what is it then darling? Mary brushed Katarina's hair back off her face.

There's a mean man, and he's coming to get us.

Julita heard the tears in her daughter's voice and caressed her back. What man? Did he say something to you? Did you tell the teacher?

No mum, the teacher wouldn't have believed me.

Straightening up, Mary took Katarina's hand. Was it one of your special feelings then, darling?

Katarina took hold of Julita's hand, so she was walking between them as they headed for the car. She gave a solemn nod. Yes.

Okay then. Why don't we talk about it when we get home?

Okay. Katarina ran off towards their car, as if she didn't have a care in the world anymore.

Be careful, Kat. The pavement's turned slippery, Mary called.

Wonder what that was all about? Julita said, slipping the car keys out of her pocket.

Don't know, but I guess we'll find out when we get home.

* * *

The wipers clunked and squeaked, clearing the snow from the windscreen. Julita hated driving in such atrocious weather. In the last few minutes, the snow had thickened; big flakes swirling in a white blanket. At the traffic lights, she tapped the steering wheel.

Turn on the blower, Mary. The screen's getting all steamed up. Julita wiped her sleeve across the windscreen to clear the condensation, peering out at the busy intersection.

Why don't we stop at McDonald's and I'll buy us all a burger and French fries for tea? Mary suggested.

The lights changed. Julita slipped the car into gear, speeding up. Yeah, I think I'd...

A huge lorry crashed into their car. The impact hurled it across the intersection. It smashed into another car, flipped over and skidded down the road on its roof. Glass and plastic peppered Julita's skin. The air bags inflated and deflated, leaving the car full of swirling smoke.

Julita hung upside down from her seat belt, too shaken to react, but screamed a warning when she saw another lorry heading straight for them. It hit, the noise so loud it stunned her. Her head bounced off the dashboard and she felt blood flowing down her cheek. The car completed the roll, landing back on its wheels with a thump. The lorry kept coming, riding up on top, its weight crushing the car roof down on them.

The last sound Julita heard was the screeching of metal on metal.

* * *

A few seconds before the lorry hit, Katarina was overcome with dread. Snapping open her seatbelt, she squeezed down between the back seats, covering her head with her arms. It saved her life.

Thrown clear through the shattered side window, she landed on the tarmac, rolling over and over until she fetched up against the tyre of a large