The Hunt series Boxset 2

by Tim Heath

  “Lose me?” She had never felt more like a piece of property.

  “Don’t look at me like that! We made promises to each other when we married, made a commitment.”

  “And when did that mean anything to you with your bloody election? I never wanted you to be President. I never wanted to leave London.”

  “And now you bloody well don’t need to, because you got your wish. I lost.” He hadn’t needed to repeat himself. She knew that was the case.

  “And if I refuse?” she said, wanting to bait him a little but a glance from Kaminski to the two men he’d brought with him told her all she needed to know. She was leaving one way or the other.

  “I don’t want to have to make this difficult,” he said.

  “Difficult?” she repeated as if it could be anything but difficult. She’d been having an affair with another man, someone she now was sure she loved, and yet a relationship that as things stood, never really had a future. And now her husband had come for her. Yes, there was a threat in front of her if she refused to follow him out of the room, but he did undoubtedly still love her. Despite all she’d done to him, he was willing to take her back. That had to mean something. Added to that, the fact he was through with the election, through with living in Russia, it seemed, and maybe things could return to what they had been once before? Return to a time where he wasn’t disappearing to meet with British spies or politicians. Where he wasn’t talking campaign agendas with his team and then needing to travel to Moscow. Gone was all talk of the election, and what might be. She’d always remained silent, until the last months when it was clear he was running. She’d only told him then she didn’t want to move to Moscow. She liked it in London. He’d said it would all be okay, pushed it under the carpet and moved on. She hadn’t. Now they were here.

  “Are you going to walk out this room with me now?” he asked, looking around the place, the few items she had there easily collectable by the men standing behind him.

  “Just leave?”

  “Yes, I’ll have everything collected.”

  “And Alex?” she said, risking saying the name of her lover, though certain Kaminski already knew who he was if he’d found out about the hotel.

  “The agent? What about him?”

  “You leave him alone.”

  “Leave him alone? What makes you think I haven’t already taken him out on the way up?”

  That response hung in the air for a while like a potent smell, Anastasia doing her best to read her husband, but failing to infer what he meant. “Fine, I’ll leave him for the time being, as long as you come home quietly. You walk out now, have no further contact with him, and I’ll leave him alone.”

  “Agreed,” she said instantly, without giving herself the time to think about it, for fear she would talk herself out of it. If they left Alex alone, if he was unharmed by her husband, she could sleep easy at night. She followed Kaminski out of the room, the two men remaining and soon heard collecting her things together. She followed her husband into the lift, the pair taking it down to the kitchen level, leaving the same way they’d come in––the same exit Alex had used––and were out onto the street in a few of minutes. It was the first time Anastasia had been in the fresh air for weeks. She felt that rush of freedom that a prisoner might experience walking from their incarceration for the first time. Kaminski’s car was waiting for them both less than thirty metres from the door. Dmitry held open the rear door for his wife, and she got in, Kaminski himself following her and sitting beside her. The driver pulled away seconds later. They were heading home, a building Anastasia thought she would never enter again, in a car with a man she thought she’d left for good. Now she wasn’t so sure about any of it. Taking her husband at his word, at least Alex was safe. She knew Alex would assume she was in Germany, so he wouldn’t be alarmed. He might not even find out. That thought troubled her. Maybe it was all for the best if he didn’t? Perhaps that was just easier? The only way to keep Alex safe, a man she did still love, despite her current predicament, despite the fact she was heading home with her husband. Despite all that, she couldn’t deny what she’d shared with the MI6 agent, and yet that all had to go away. Dmitry had given his word to her that he would not touch Alex if she came home. Keeping Alex safe meant she had to play the good wife. She couldn’t bear to think about what would happen otherwise. No, she determined, it was better this way. It was the only way to keep Alex safe. She would have to vanish, hope he never found her, and play happy families, and the man she now loved would be free.

  A week later Alex was out jogging on his own when the text came in. It was from his contact at the hotel from the kitchen, a man he would message when he needed access to the rear door. He was asking to see Alex that day.

  Alex knew what it would be about. The guy would be concerned that Anastasia had left though Alex knew she was heading to Germany. Alex didn’t respond straight away, carrying on his jog and picking up the pace to make up for the lost time he’d spent reading the message.

  He’d been running more since no longer seeing Anastasia. It had been a week since he’d last spoken to her. Sasha could tell there was something up though the two had done well to avoid talking about the elephant in the room. They were still flatmates, and the arrangement worked for them both. Sasha appreciated having Alex around, not knowing anyone else in London and having to be careful about who might find out he was there. The Russian community, primarily, was close, and word could soon get around to the wrong people that a former FSB agent was now in the British capital. That wasn’t anything Sasha, or his two colleagues, wanted to happen.

  Alex ran into Hyde Park, picking up his speed down one long side of the beautiful park before turning the corner, using the next two sides to regain his breath a little, before repeating the speed along a shorter path. He reached Green Park and did likewise, alternating between a fast sprint and a slow jog. There were runners and walkers all over the place, and the sunny weather had helped no end, he was sure. In the distance, Alex could see the crowds waiting outside Buckingham Palace, another change of the guards no doubt about to happen. Also, the latest Royal Wedding wasn’t that far away, though the Palace was always crowded with visitors, each trying to get a shot of someone inside on their cameras, though the absence of a flag on the pole on top of the iconic building told Alex, at least, that the Queen wasn’t home that day.

  As Alex left Green Park, the entrance to the tube station sharing the same name on his left, Mayfair just across the road, the crowds forced Alex to walk, and he dropped into a pace in keeping with the general mill of people while pulling out his phone again and typing a reply. I’ll be over later. Nothing to worry about, I assure you. Will explain when I see you.

  Alex used a gym that was local––it was a chain, though this was one of his favourites, located so near to the parks he ran in––and headed that way. He needed to shower and change before seeing anyone else.

  It was past two in the afternoon when Alex pulled up at the back of the hotel he’d not been to for a week––seven long days where he’d thought daily about Anastasia and where she was––and Alex approached the back door. He tapped the door, waiting just a few seconds before someone opened it. It wasn’t the man he was after, but they knew Alex by that point.

  “He’s in the office,” the chef said, nodding with his head towards the direction Alex needed, but Alex knew the office, he’d been there once before. Alex pulled the door closed behind him, let the chef walk away and then headed to the office. It was only his contact inside, and Alex shut the door behind him as he went in. The two men greeted each other.

  “I’ve been away,” he started, before Alex could say anything. “She’s gone, Alex. I just found out. I sent you a text right away.”

  “It’s okay, I know.” Alex was smiling. He was calm. This seemed to catch the other man by surprise.

  “You know?”

  “We planned it, the last time I was here. Anastasia couldn’t stay here forever. She knew
she needed space. Knew she wouldn’t be safe here and went. She’ll be in touch.”

  “Oh,” the man said, his whole tone now deflated. He felt silly for having contacted Alex in the first place if he knew about it all along.

  “How’s the family?” Alex said. He’d been getting to know the guy a little over the last weeks, wanting to keep the guy sweet as he was keeping Alex’s presence there a secret. Alex was happy for that to continue.

  “They are well. The kid’s turned two already.”

  They chatted for five minutes, but Alex was aware he had no reason to be there––nor had he had an official reason before, but that had never stopped him––and he needed to get back to the office. They both walked together towards the exit, the guy due in the kitchens himself, but aware it might be the last time he saw Alex as Anastasia was no longer hidden up on the top floor.

  “So you trust her with him?”

  Alex did not understand what he meant. “With who?”

  “The Russian.”

  “What Russian?”

  “She left with her husband. I thought you knew?”

  “Anastasia?” Alex was more confused than ever and needed clarity.

  “Yes. Kaminski came with two men, in through this same door, and she left with them.”

  “When?” There was panic showing on Alex’s face.

  “The same day you came. I didn’t let them in. It was someone else. I don’t know who. I’ve just got back. I heard what happened and wanted to let you know. I thought you knew, from what you said.”

  “The hell I did! Are you certain?”

  “Yes, no doubt. They came in up to half an hour after you left, probably less. We are busy, you know, but it was the same day. She left with the Russian, the one who ran for President, about ten minutes later. The other two came down with her bags maybe five minutes after that. That’s all I know.”

  “And you are just letting me know now?” Alex was angry.

  “Look, I’ve been doing you a favour, so don’t shoot the messenger. I was off work, I’ve told you, and came back in today. I heard talk about the Russians, asked what had happened, and they told me what I told you.”

  Alex swore, running out through the back door saying nothing else. He was already on the phone to Anissa.

  “Kaminski has Anastasia,” he said, his worst fears realised. Alex had been lying to his colleagues about his ongoing relationship with the wife of the Presidential-hopeful, but they’d seen through his lies and suspected it wasn’t over. “I’m on my way in.” Alex ended the call.

  It was later that same day when Alex was at home but about to go to the pub. He needed something substantial to drink and was out of stock in his apartment. Sasha was with Alex but Anissa was home with her own family. She’d said enough to Alex about the whole situation already. The two men walked in silence all the way until they entered the crowded pub, only chatting to the other as they worked out where there was a place to sit. Finding there wasn’t, Alex went to the bar––it was nearer to the drinks anyway––and they both found room to stand. Alex ordered two vodkas, a taste he hadn’t enjoyed before meeting Sasha, but something the Russian had educated him on, as long as the quality was decent.

  “I’m scared,” Alex said, the first shot already downed, the first sign of what was now going through the British agent’s mind. “There has been nothing about the pair in the news this last week. What if she’s being held captive?”

  “You said they saw her leaving with Kaminski.”

  “I know I said that but what if it was a trap?” Alex could not imagine that she could have gone with her husband willingly.

  “They are married, Alex, it’s not as if he was a total stranger.” Alex turned on Sasha at that moment, a little too aggressively if truth be told.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? She left him. She wanted to get away from here altogether. She wanted to start a new life with me.” Alex had said that much already to both Sasha and Anissa that day, the two just listening, not commenting. Maybe she was just ready to get back with her husband after all? Neither voiced that thought.

  “Alex, calm down,” Sasha said, the few heads that had turned now leaving the two men to their conversation. Sasha waved to the barman for another drink, who soon obliged by refilling their glasses. “I mean you must look at this objectively. No one is missing, no one reported a scene happening at the hotel. All you’ve told us is that she walked out of the exit with Kaminski.”

  “There were two other men with him, at least. She didn’t have a choice about it, I can assure you.”

  “That might well be the case, but there wasn’t a scene when she left. She walked out, which means she knew what she was doing. Plus, the man she left with is her husband. Remember, nobody knows your identity, and if you go at this, you’ll only give the vultures your name.”

  “So what are you saying? I have to let it drop?” Both Sasha and especially Anissa had been saying that for months. Alex was a fool for having let it go on for as long as it had.

  “I’m saying you have no choice, Alex. She knows what she’s doing.”

  “I don’t believe she does,” Alex said, downing the vodka and pushing the glass away. Having any more would be a mistake, and Anastasia might contact him at any point asking him to rescue her. He couldn’t accept the thought she’d left him to go back to her husband. There had to be another reason.

  Sasha ordered another drink for himself, Alex refusing the refill. Sasha sensed he might need the extra courage before the night was out, given the mood his colleague and housemate was in. Sasha decided not to mention anything about his own relationship, with a woman from the National Records Office, who he’d been dating over the last couple of months. It was nothing serious, yet, but Sasha could already see it becoming that.

  Alex walked away from the bar abruptly a little after eleven, Sasha downing the dregs of his vodka before chasing after his colleague. In the silence since their last words and the minutes before Alex took off, Sasha could tell a deep sadness was setting in. Alex was processing the possibility it was over, that his lover had chosen her husband over him, that Anastasia leaving the hotel had been amicable, and that it really was all over. Just like that. No final goodbye, no one last kiss. Nothing. She’d not loved him in the way he had loved her.

  Alex couldn’t be around a pub full of happy drinkers, laughter in his ears. He needed space.

  20

  The first images appeared of Dmitry and Anastasia Kaminski in the British papers––which still lapped up the scandal surrounding Lev Kaminski––two days after Alex had found out, a seemingly happy couple now through their differences. That was how it was being reported, anyway. Anissa did her best to hide the newspaper she’d been reading that morning from Alex when he walked in, but he’d apparently already seen the news. He was in a foul mood. The story had hit him hard the last few days, and she’d not had a proper chance to chat with her longstanding colleague before they reported this latest revelation.

  Thankfully for all, Alex’s name was not being splashed around the tabloids. It seemed, this time, Alex had got away with it.

  That was little consolation for a man whose heart was being broken in front of his closest friends, colleagues he’d been working with for a long time, but the only people Alex now had around him. He was sharing his apartment with Sasha. The two had grown closer since the Russian’s move to London.

  The press were focusing their attention on the working through of differences for a couple reportedly on the rocks. It was the same week as the Royal Wedding––Harry and Meghan had a little competition for column inches, but it didn’t last too long. Soon the papers were back onto the Royals, and Alex was at least spared the misery of seeing Anastasia’s beautiful face looking out from every article.

  He’d avoided trying to make contact. Alex had yet to work out what he wanted to do. A small part wanted to fight it all, but common sense––not to mention his Russian housemate––got the better of
him. He couldn’t have anything to do with her from now on. If the marriage was back on, if she was happy, and if the papers had finally dropped the whole spy-hunt for the elusive lover, then Alex should count his blessings and get on with his life.

  Two days after the last report appeared in the newspaper, however, it was a surprise for Alex to receive a message on his mobile from Anastasia. She wanted to meet.

  “You can’t see her,” Sasha said, looking to Anissa who was still speechless, the two having been told the news shortly before by Alex.

  “Sasha’s right, ignore it, Alex.”

  Alex could see the logic, but love was never logical. Alex had to know why she was contacting him.

  “If everything is so perfect, why does she want to see me?”

  “I don’t know, Alex, and I know you must be desperate for hope, but in case you haven’t been reading the papers, I have. They are back together. There was even one interview that Kaminski himself gave where he talked about it being time to start the family they never had a chance to have.” Alex had seen that interview, from a day before. He’d thrown the newspaper across the train carriage.

  “You know I have to see her,” Alex said, his puppy dog eyes wide and vulnerable.

  “I know you do, and that’s what worries me. It could be a trap.”

  “A trap?” Alex hadn’t even considered that, and as he did, dismissed it out of hand. “She wouldn’t do anything like that.”

  “You don’t know what she would do.”

  “I do!” he snapped back at Anissa, before catching his reaction. Too much emotion would not get him anywhere with these two, he knew that for sure. “I think I know her, Anissa, and I hear your concern. But she isn’t trying to set me up.”

  “Then why is she reaching out to you now?” Sasha asked.

  Alex thought that was obvious, but realised it was hope speaking more than sound logic. Because she still loves me. Because she recognises she’s made a colossal mistake. Because they have tricked her into it, drugged, threatened, anything that could explain away the last couple of weeks and her absence from his life. Anything that could explain why she was in every paper photographed alongside a man she’d told Alex she didn’t love, and yet they were talking about having children together.