“And you?”
“Me too.” Zain ignored the pain in his lip when he smiled.
Once inside the building, Zain quickly became disorientated as they moved along corridors and down steps. He heard the sound of voices in the room they were approaching, but not Roman’s. Please let him be safe. Qashim pushed open a metal door and pulled Zain through. Roman hung by his wrists from a rope. His shirt had been ripped and hung from his waist, and his face was bloody. His eyes were closed and it was all Zain could do not to race over to him, but he had to stretch this out as long as he could. Helen will come.
“So you’re Zain.”
Zain turned to face the man who’d spoken. An older guy wearing a smart grey coat. Arkady.
“Yes.” Zain sensed Roman opening his eyes and turned to see him looking at him. Not happiness in his face, but despair. Don’t give up.
There were two other men, one of them was Dima, the other was built like a rhinoceros.
“What’s all this about?” Zain asked. “What are you doing to Roman?”
“See!” Dima laughed. “I told you they knew one another. As to what we’re doing, we’re extracting information.” Dima turned to Qashim. “Did you take his phone?”
“He doesn’t have one.”
Dima huffed and strode to Zain. “The phone we took from Roman isn’t Roman’s. Cheap thing. They probably swapped phones.”
Dima yanked Zain out of his jacket, checked the pockets and pulled out the test results. He tossed them and the jacket aside before running his hands down Zain’s arms, over his T-shirt and finally down his legs. When he found the phone, he glared at Qashim, shoved the phone in his pocket then wrenched Zain into his arms. Zain felt something hard press into his side and looked down to see the muzzle of a gun. Oh God.
“Time for the truth,” Dima said.
“Is this really necessary?” Arkady snapped.
“Of course it is.” Dima twisted the muzzle against Zain’s ribs and Zain cried out.
“Dima.” Qashim spoke quietly but with clear warning in his voice.
Did that mean Qashim wouldn’t let Dima hurt him? Or that Qashim wanted to do it? Dima pressed the gun harder against Zain and he yelped.
“Don’t—” Qashim said.
“Shut up,” Dima snapped and shoved Zain into the arms of the rhino.
Struggling got him nowhere, so he stopped.
“Get on with this.” Arkady crossed his arms. “Why is Roman strung up like a piece of meat?”
“Because he’s betrayed me and he’s betrayed you.” Dima glowered at his father. “All this time he was supposed to be looking for Zain and he knew exactly where he was. The two of them have been fucking like bunnies. Roman had the means to destroy us both and he intended to keep hold of Zain until he needed to use him. It was Roman who’s wrecked every deal of yours that’s gone wrong and every deal of mine. Too many coincidences. He’s a snitch.”
“Dima—” Arkady started to speak but Dima talked over him.
“You’ve always thought of him like a son. You’ve treated him better than me. You’ve trusted him over me. Well, you fucked up. I’ve sorted this out. It ends today. I’ve done you a favour. You can see who’s the better son.”
Arkady bent to pick up the piece of paper Dima had tossed aside. He looked at it and then stared at Zain. “What’s this?”
“A test I had to take to apply for medical school.”
“You want to be a doctor?” Arkady asked.
“We’re not here to chat,” Dima barked. He pulled the phone he’d taken from Zain from his pocket and turned to Roman. “What’s your password.”
When Roman said nothing, the guy holding Zain squeezed hard. The air was forced out of his lungs and he couldn’t take another breath. Oh God.
“7910,” Roman croaked.
Dima looked as though he was typing it in but he suddenly stopped and switched it off instead. “I don’t trust you. I need an expert looking at it first. Faddei?” Dima nodded to the rhino and while he didn’t let Zain go, he loosened his hold so that Zain could at least breathe.
“Switch off phones,” Faddei said. “They can be tracked.”
Arkady rolled his eyes. “Who’d be tracking them?”
But when Dima switched off both phones, Zain swallowed his sigh.
“Dima, you’re behaving like a child,” Arkady said. “What evidence do you have that Roman has been acting against either of us?”
“Isn’t the fact that he’s been fucking this little bitch enough?” Dima yelled. “I can’t believe you’re taking his side over mine—again.”
“Where’s your proof?” Arkady shouted back.
Dima thumped Roman in the stomach. “Tell him.”
Roman gasped.
“Need an incentive? Faddei, give him one.”
The rhino wrapped his arm around Zain’s neck and Zain caught a glimpse of a knife in his hand just before it was dragged across his chest. It cut through the T-shirt in a red line. Then it hurt and Zain’s whimper turned into a moan. His knees buckled but Faddei didn’t let him fall.
“Zain!” Roman croaked.
Qashim glared at Dima. “We said—”
“I know what we said.” Dima turned to Roman. “Who are you working for? The longer you wait to tell me, the deeper the cuts will get.”
Once he realised that the cut wasn’t deep, Zain calmed down. He thought about telling them it was him working for the British authorities and not Roman, but they’d kill them both anyway. He had to wait for the right opportunity and above all else—delay.
“What are you talking about?” Zain mumbled. “Why have you cut me? What have I done?”
It might not be a bad cut, but it still hurt.
“What’s happening?” Zain kept going. “I don’t understand. What’s the gun for?”
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll show you what the gun’s for!” Dima yelled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Roman wished he was dead, because if Dima had already killed him, he wouldn’t be able to see Zain being hurt. If Roman told the truth, and admitted who he’d been working for, they were both dead anyway. If he said nothing, they’d keep hurting Zain until Roman said what they wanted to hear. And he would. He’d say anything even though the outcome was inevitable.
The one ray of hope had come from Zain having hidden the phone. It might be powered down now but if Zain had called Helen, it could have been on long enough. If he hadn’t called Helen, then all she’d eventually find were their bodies.
Possibly. Unless Dima had learned a lesson from Sheripov and put them where they’d never be found.
All that had flashed through his mind in an instant. But too long an instant because Zain had flung his head back against Faddei and made his nose bleed. It would take more than that to stop a guy of his size and Roman watched in horror as Faddei threw Zain to the floor and kicked into his ribs where he’d cut him. Zain cried out as he jackknifed, blood splattering the concrete.
But as Roman opened his mouth to beg him to stop, that he’d tell them what they wanted to know, Qash slammed his fist into Faddei’s side and the two big guys squared off. Dima was screaming at them. Arkady stood motionless and Zain lay clutching his stomach. Roman had never thought he’d want Qash to succeed at anything, but Qash didn’t want Zain hurt. He and Roman were almost on the same side.
Qash was quicker, stronger and faster. Faddei’s knife clattered to the ground and Qash kicked it away. A moment later, Faddei dropped to his knees, a crimson waterfall pouring from his neck. Qash dragged Zain across the floor away from the pooling blood.
“Really?” Dima gaped at him.
“Zain was not to be hurt,” Qash snapped. “You said. You lie.”
Faddei collapsed facedown and struggled for a moment, thrashing and gurgling. Then he stopped making any noise at all.
“Dima! What the hell are you doing?” Arkady didn’t look as if he could believe what he was seeing.
Dima shrugge
d. “Faddei’s no loss to you. He’s been working for me for the last year.”
Arkady let loose a flood of Russian swear words.
“You’re such a bad judge of character.” Dima continued in Russian. “Roman’s father was a prick who showed no respect and yet you thought the sun shone out of his arse. The day he died was a good day but it would have been a perfect day if his spawn had died with him. Roman forgets his saxophone and it saves his life. Not what I’d planned.”
It was a couple of seconds before Roman took in what Dima had said. He killed my father? Roman yanked his wrists, struggling to get loose but couldn’t free himself from the rope. Fucking Dima? He wanted to kill us both? Roman’s heart couldn’t decide whether to beat hard enough to fly out his mouth and into Dima’s to suffocate him or stop altogether. You fucking, fucking bastard.
“You wondering what I said?” Dima changed to English and glanced at Qash and Zain. “I killed Roman’s father.”
Zain struggled to a sitting position, his arm clamped around his stomach, his face pale with shock.
“Dima?” Arkady whispered. “What are you saying?”
“I did it. Fuck!” Dima waved his gun around. “I’ve waited so long to be able to tell you. What a sweet moment.”
Roman couldn’t hold back the bellow of rage that surged from his mouth.
“But you were a boy,” Arkady said.
“A boy with money. Not hard to find someone to turn off cameras and plant a bomb in a car. You were away. I spent the night elsewhere. I knew his father would take him to school. The car was insured. No loss. You got a new one.”
It might have flitted through Roman’s mind that Dima could be responsible but the thought had never taken root. It should have.
“Why did you do it?” Arkady had bewilderment written all over his face.
“Because you thought more of Roman than you did of me. I was your son, not him.” Spittle flew from Dima’s lips. “But all I heard was Roman’s a good student. Roman’s respectful. Roman’s faster, smarter, funnier, taller, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t fuck around, doesn’t take drugs… The son you would have preferred. There was nothing I was better at and you made sure you shoved that down my throat at every opportunity. And then, fuck you, you sent him to school with me in England.”
This was like watching a plane fall from the sky and being unable to do anything about it. Now Roman knew who’d killed his father, a door closed in his head, but there were more important things. He looked at Zain and as if Zain could tell he was under scrutiny, he lifted his head and stared at Roman with those beautiful eyes. Please let him be okay. Please please please please. Zain glanced at Faddei’s knife, which lay next to the wall where Qash had kicked it.
No! What did the idiot think he was going to do? He’d get himself killed.
“I told everyone at school he was my servant.” Dima was still on a roll.
Roman wondered if Dima could see how horrified Arkady was. He doesn’t care. But the longer Dima talked, the better chance they had that Helen would come. But the more time it gave Zain to edge towards that knife. He’d already moved a few inches. Shit. Roman was torn between wanting Zain to get it so he could defend himself and wanting him to leave the fucking thing alone.
“I treated him like the piece of shit he is and convinced my friends to do the same. I thought he’d come bellyaching to you but he didn’t. Your little dog did just what you asked of him and kept an eye on me, lied for me, got me out of trouble. It encouraged me to get into trouble, just for the fun of watching Roman struggle to sort it out. The one thing I missed seeing…” He gave a short laugh. “…was that he’s a fucking faggot.”
“He has a girlfriend,” Arkady shouted. “Are you a fucking idiot? Stop this now. Whatever harm you think Roman has done to you, you did far worse to him. Let him go. Let this young man go.”
He’s not going to do that. He’s not going to let any of us go. Not even you, Arkady. Nor Qash.
Dima pointed the gun at Roman. “After all this, after you walk away from my father with all the knowledge of his business, the power to destroy him in your hand, and the idiot is still blind.”
“Dima, don’t,” Arkady said.
“You should have asked him why he was running away.” He shoved the gun into Roman’s ribs and Roman grunted in pain. “Why did you?”
“I wasn’t running.”
“Then where’ve you been for the last three days?”
“On holiday. Your father told me to take a break and I did.”
Dima snorted. “Where’s your defence, Roman? Where’s your anger? Your indignation?” Dima pushed the gun against Roman’s neck and dragged it down the column of his throat.
“You wouldn’t believe anything I said.” Roman swallowed hard as the muzzle pressed against his Adam’s apple. “If you hurt Zain or me, you won’t be able to believe what I say. You want me to tell you the sky is purple? It’s purple. That your cock is bigger than mine? It is.”
Dima scowled, then the lines on his face smoothed out. “I’m interested to hear you try to worm out of this.”
“What exactly am I supposed to have done?” Delay delay delay. He felt as if his arms were coming out of their sockets. His toes were barely touching the ground.
“The minibus that was stopped at Dover last May?”
Shit. “How is that my fault?” Roman asked.
“They knew which vehicle to pick out of the line.”
Because Roman had told Helen. “You can’t expect to get every delivery through.” Roman’s chest heaved from the effort of speaking. “Fate dictates you’ll fall foul of a random check sooner or later.”
“He’s right,” Arkady said.
“They fucking knew,” Dima yelled right into Roman’s face, spraying him with spittle and pressing the gun under his chin to force his head back.
“Not from me,” Roman gasped.
“Vasily Popov. Client of my father.” Dima stared into Roman’s eyes. “His house purchase was blocked. He was investigated. Slapped with an Unexplained Wealth Order.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he did. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
Dima stepped back. “Let him down. Untie him.”
It was Arkady who heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
There was nothing to be relieved about. Roman wondered what Dima was planning now. Qash loosened the rope so that Roman stood on his feet, albeit unsteadily, his arms aching. The pain as he lowered them made him bite his lip to stop from crying out. His view of Zain was blocked. Had he picked up that knife?
No, because Qash had kicked it away. Qash took out a knife of his own, cut the rope around Roman’s wrists and stepped away. Maybe if Dima hadn’t turned his gun on Zain, Roman would have tried something but he didn’t. Not the right time and there would likely be only one chance. He pulled free of the strands of rope and rubbed his arms, wrists and hands back to life.
“Let’s forget this ever happened,” Arkady said.
“Yes, let’s.” Dima laughed and spun round to face Roman.
Everything happened so fast. The loud noise as Dima fired twice, Roman being propelled sideways by something, a sharp pain in his arm, his head and Zain lying on top of him.
And there was blood.
For a heart-stopping moment, he thought Zain had been shot until he realised it was him who’d been hit in the arm. And the head. Fuck.
“Two for one.” Dima grinned.
But as Dima lifted the gun, a knife flew across the room and slammed into his chest. Dima still fired, but his aim was off. The bullet hit the wall, ricocheted and Arkady cried out. Roman tried to cover Zain with his body and Zain seemed to be trying to do the same to him.
Dima crumpled but the gun went off twice more as he fell. Then there was silence. No one remained on their feet.
“Oh God.” Zain spun in Roman’s arms.
“Are you hit?” Roman asked.
“No. You are.”
Zain looked at Roman’s head, then his arm. “The bullet only grazed your head, but the other went through your arm.” He wrenched his T-shirt over his head, pressed it against Roman’s head, then tied it around his arm.
Roman flinched and sucked in his cheeks.
“Your head will be fine. Hold your arm to your body and press against it with your other hand. Hard. I’ll see if I can help the others.”
“I need my phone.” Roman struggled to a sitting position and wiped blood out of his eye.
Zain moved first to Arkady, then Qash, and went back to Arkady. Roman shuffled over to Dima. The knife was still sticking out of his chest.
“Pull. It. Out.” Blood trickled from the corner of Dima’s mouth.
“Better left in,” Roman said. I want to fucking twist it. “I don’t want my fingerprints on it.”
Dima chuckled. “Damn. At least I tried. Am I dying?”
“I fucking hope so.”
Roman felt in Dima’s pocket and pulled out two phones. He switched his own on, tapped in the code and called the emergency services.
“Ambulance,” Roman said. “And police.” Blood dripped into his eye and he wiped his face with his uninjured arm. “Where the fuck are we?”
Dima stared at him through half-open eyes. “Hawaii.”
“North side of the Thames estuary,” Zain said. “Near the river. Coldharbour Lane. Past a building with three yellow cranes. This unit is one of eight identical ones. There’s a white van and there were three dark cars parked in front of it. I saw an H for heliport.”
Roman repeated the information and added, “Three shot, two stabbed, one dead. Critical injuries.”
The pool of blood Dima lay in grew bigger and bigger.
“Truth,” Dima slurred. “Sukatch?” Russian for snitch.
“No. I wish this was more painful for you, you fucking bastard. My father did nothing to hurt you. He put up with your shit, took the blame for you being late when it wasn’t his fault. And you fucking blow him up?”
“Better than any computer game. All…this…time…” Dima’s breathing was ragged. “I enjoyed…you not knowing.”
Whatever It Takes Page 33