Either way, Vas was determined that he would rescue his friend no matter what.
Indeed, if Allan Gillespie did commute into The City on Monday mornings, then Vas wanted to be sure to see him go. But he would undoubtedly leave early, so Vas arrived at an unGodly hour and sat in his car a short distance from the Gillespie residence and waited.
Sure enough, at 5.30am, the front door opened and Allan Gillespie stepped out. Vas then watched as Miri’s husband reversed his bottle green Jaguar out of the driveway and sped off down the street, presumably heading to the nearest station where he would board the early train to London.
Vas gave it another fifteen minutes, just to be sure that Gillespie would not be returning, then edged his own car further down the street until it was parked directly in front of Miri’s house.
A moment later, he was standing outside her front door, baseball bat in hand, just in case her husband returned unexpectedly.
He knocked on the door and waited, aware that the curtains were twitching in the bedrooms of the two neighbouring houses. But he did not care and knocked again, this time louder.
When there was still no response, he bent down and shouted through the letterbox, “Miri, it’s me!” He yelled. “It’s Vas - I’ve come to get you. You’ll be safe, I promise.”
He heard movement from inside, the sound of someone coming down the stairs. “That’s it, Miri. Open the door. It’ll be okay, I swear.”
A few seconds passed before he finally heard the sound of the latch.
Then, a moment later the door opened and Miriam stood there before him.
“Oh my God, you poor, sweet girl,” Vas exclaimed as he saw his friend properly for the first time in many years. “What the hell has that monster done to you?”
Miri was in her nightdress and through the sheer material he could see large bruises on her stomach and ribs. She had further bruising on her upper arms and the tops of her legs.
Her beautiful face was gaunt and worry-worn and her lip was split. What is more, she now had another black eye to match the one Vas had seen two days earlier.
But she was alive.
She looked at Vas but could not speak. Then her bottom lip began to quiver and she started to sob.
Immediately Vas dropped the bat and opened his arms. Miri paused for a second, momentarily stunned, as she stared at him standing there on the doorstep, not quite able to believe that her old friend had come back for her just as he promised. Then the realisation she was being saved suddenly hit her and she let out a cry of wild, untethered emotion as she flung herself bodily into Vas’ protective embrace, her shoulders heaving as she threw her arms around his thick neck and hugged him so tightly that he could hardly breathe. As she clung onto him for dear life, she wept with the overwhelming relief of it all, sobbing deeply and never wanting to let go.
“I’ve got you,” Vas whispered. “You’re safe now. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. I promise.”
Miri could still not speak as tears streamed from her bruised eyes and ran down her sallow cheeks; her arms locked around Vas’ neck as if her very life depended on it.
He held her for a long time, letting the emotion flow out of her; the two of them standing there on the driveway in full view of anyone who might be watching; the neighbours getting a good show.
When at last her sobs abated, Vas said, “Go grab your stuff and let’s go home.”
Finally, Miri released the vice-like grip on his neck and looked him directly in the eyes, the rims of her own red from crying.
“There is nothing here that I want, mon ami. Nothing at all.”
Vas did not question it. “Very well,” he said, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her slender shoulders, “then let’s get going.”
With that, leaving the front door to Allan Gillespie’s home wide open, he led her gently to his car and helped her into the passenger seat. He then climbed in beside her and drove away.
Miri did not look back.
***
Allan Gillespie had no sooner arrived at the hospital when one of his ‘good samaritan’ neighbours, who neither he nor Miri had ever met, took it upon themselves to phone him. They already knew from the newspapers that he was a surgeon at the hospital and could not wait to tell him exactly what had happened, the delicious anticipation of yet another scandal too much to resist.
Gillespie may have been a social pariah, but he still had many influential connections so it did not take him too long to discover exactly where Vasily Voronin lived.
And it took him a mere fraction of that time to decide what he must do upon learning that information.
***
Traffic into the centre of London was dreadful at that time on a Monday morning; the roads clogged with tired commuters all heading into The City to begin another busy week of work.
Cars were lined nose to tail as they inched slowly towards their final destination but instead of queueing with them, Vas pulled into a Drive-thru McDonalds and bought himself and Miri some breakfast. He then pulled up in the car park where they ate, drank coffee and chatted for a long time about what they had been doing in the nine years since they had last seen each other.
Miri told Vas how devastated she had been when Sam failed to telephone her from New Hampshire on that Christmas Day back in 1994 and how no subsequent word from either of them had left her depressed and reclusive. Her confidence dented, she tried to fill the void of their absence with a new position in London but it had little effect and served only to make her feel more alone.
It was why she was initially so dazzled by Allan Gillespie; flattered that he was interested in her when he could have had his pick of any girl. She admitted that she had fallen for his charms when at her lowest ebb and, as a result, was quickly swept up in his glamorous world, naively believing that Gillespie’s unusual sexual tastes were nothing more than a form of role play; that of master and servant or dominant and submissive - and she played along because she thought he loved her.
Yet even though the severity of his ‘punishments’ increased significantly over the brief time that they dated she still stupidly refused to see the truth of what he was, blind to any of the blatant warning signs.
Indeed, it was not until after they were married that his truly sadistic nature revealed itself fully but by then it was too late. She was trapped and too afraid of him to run. Her only hope was that someone might rescue her.
Now, almost six years after marrying Allan Gillespie, her prayers had finally been answered.
Vasily listened to every word his friend had to say, wracked with guilt for not being there when she needed him most and suspecting that if he had been she would not have suffered so terribly.
What is more, he blamed himself and Sam for what she had been through. If not for them deserting her then she would never have chosen the path she had.
Yet no one could have foreseen how things would turn out.
After Miri had finished speaking, it was time for Vas to explain what he and Sam had been up to since they had last seen her and exactly why they had not been in touch.
He started with the Christmas Day back in 1994, assuring Miri that Sam had every intention of calling her as promised but unforeseen circumstances had made it unwise for him to do so.
Vas then told her that shortly after arriving in New Hampshire he and Sam discovered their lives were in danger - possibly Miri’s too - and it was deemed safer to sever all contact with her for the sake of her own protection.
Vas said it was a decision that had haunted them both for years, which neither had ever forgiven themselves for, but it was made with Miri’s best interests at heart.
After escaping from New Hampshire, Vas told Miri that they then flew to Russia, relating how Vladimir, his father, had located Brendan Williams in a notorious Siberian prison and how Sam had purposely conspired to get hims
elf incarcerated in the same hell hole in a bid to kill him.
Vas said it was Sam’s hope that Miri would forget him and move on with her life, reasoning that it was grossly unfair to ask her to wait for him when he faced the possibility of being locked up for many years.
As it turned out, he was, in fact, imprisoned for a total of four years, held in terrible conditions with very little hope of release until Marcus Ellison intervened using his connections with the Russian government.
Miriam was astonished by this, it seemed almost inconceivable, yet she knew how committed Sam was to avenging Claudette, so did not doubt the truth of what Vas was saying.
But he had not yet finished his extraordinary tale and went onto say that just a few weeks after Sam’s eventual release he had then flown to Africa to follow a lead on yet another of Claudette’s killers.
Vas concluded by saying that to the best of his knowledge, Sam was still there.
Furthermore, another four years had passed and Sam was now somewhere in the war torn depths of The Congo hot on the trail of Darius Purcell. But it had been many months since Vas had last heard from him and he was now more than a little concerned that his friend might be dead.
It was heavy news to drop in Miriam’s lap considering all that she had been through but he could not help himself as fear for Sam’s wellbeing was eating him alive.
By the time Vas had finished relating his story Miriam had put aside any bitterness she had mistakenly felt towards her friends for deserting her. Indeed, she had quite forgotten her own woes and was now far more concerned about Sam.
Be that as it may, there was little either she or Vas could do to help him from a McDonalds car park on the outskirts of London, so two hours after leaving her home in Surbiton, and with the traffic now flowing more freely, they set off once more, both determined to do what they could to find their friend - unaware that Sam was actually quite safe and much closer to them than either could possibly imagine.
Nevertheless, it was after 10.30am by the time Vas parked up outside the Kensington Gardens apartment he shared with Alina.
However, in the time it had taken them to get there, Allan Gillespie had been appraised of the facts and had already taken measures to get his wife back.
Seeing red, he had immediately flown into a blind rage, throwing out all sense and reason as the fury of Miriam’s betrayal boiled within him. How dare she leave him? How dare she flout his authority? It was almost inconceivable that she would do such a thing even though she had clearly been aided by the fat fool who called at their house two days earlier.
But now both of them would pay. No one made an idiot of Allan Gillespie or humiliated him in such a fashion.
What is more, he had always threatened to kill his wife should she ever attempt such an act of rebellion and now that she had he intended to make good on his threat - and if her friend got in the way then he would have to die too.
Gillespie was so incensed, so hell bent on exerting his power over his wife, that he was mindless to any consequences which might result from his actions.
Indeed, armed with a lethally sharp carving knife taken from the pristine kitchen of his Knightsbridge flat, he had arrived at Kensington Gardens just moments before, fuelled by madness and blood lust.
Furthermore, he was currently in the elevator, heading up to Vasily and Alina’s apartment.
Chapter Forty-Two
Alina could not stop smiling as she walked back into the living room with a tray loaded with tea and biscuits, the delight she felt in her heart putting a definite spring in her step.
After placing the tray down on the table, she was just about to pour the tea when the doorbell rang.
Alina assumed it to be Vasily returning from his early morning excursion, although curious as to why he had not used his door key. Nonetheless, almost bursting with excitement, she eagerly jumped up from her comfy chair and hurried to let him in.
She very nearly ran down the hallway of their spacious apartment before unlatching the front door and flinging it open, her face a picture of joy.
However, her happy expression quickly changed to one of shock because instead of the bulky form of her husband standing before her she saw a tall, dark-haired stranger.
“Oh,” she said, her disappointment undisguised and her heavy accent betraying her Russian roots. “I sorry - I expect someone else. I help you?”
“Where is she?” Demanded Allan Gillespie, his eyes burning with rage and his hand clutching the plastic handle of the carving knife in his pocket.
“Sorry, I not understand. Where who?” Queried Alina.
“Don’t you play innocent with me you Russian bitch,” Gillespie snarled. “I’ve come for my fucking wife - now where is she?”
The insult was not lost on Alina but she kept her cool, the stranger was clearly confused and not in his right mind. “Your wife? You make mistake, I think. You’re wife not here - you have wrong address—“
“Liar!” Shouted Gillespie, attempting to barge past her, to seek out Miriam whom he was convinced was inside. But Alina was a big woman; broad and strong with muscles to rival the fittest of men and she made herself large in the doorway and slammed her hands into Gillespie’s chest pushing him back across the corridor so that he slammed against the opposite wall.
“I tell you - she not here. Now leave - please!” Said Alina firmly.
“Fucking bitch!” Growled Gillespie, suddenly pulling the carving knife from his pocket and about to lunge at her, unaware of the distant ‘ping’ of the elevator doors opening several yards away, down the corridor.
“Hey!” Yelled Vas as he stepped out the lift with Miriam by his side, both of them seeing Gillespie immediately and the danger Alina was in. “Leave her alone!”
Startled, Allan Gillespie turned at the sound of Vas’ voice, his eyes, full of violent intent as they instantly locked onto the terrified face of Miri.
“You fucking whore!” Gillespie roared at Miriam through clenched teeth, foamy spittle spraying from his snarling lips. “How dare you leave me!” Suddenly forgetting all about Alina, he then turned on his heels and thundered off down the corridor towards Vas and Miri, the knife locked murderously in his grip.
Without consideration for himself, Vas flung himself in front of Miri, his only thought to protect her, but as Allan Gillespie charged towards him, he realised that in power and agility he was greatly outmatched.
Furthermore, he was also unarmed and his opponent had a knife.
Indeed, as the incensed image of Allan Gillespie loomed ever larger, Vas suddenly wished he had not left his baseball bat behind because the odds of his survival did not look good at all.
***
Sam could not hide his disappointment when the door opened. He had been convinced of seeing the familiar face of his best friend standing there but instead saw a heavily built, very formidable looking woman.
He soon found out, however, that she was, in fact, Alina Voronin, Vasily’s wife. Indeed, when he introduced himself she threw her arms around him and held him in a tight bear hug for several long uncomfortable seconds as if he was her own long lost brother. A moment later, she pulled him inside and dragged him down the wide hallway to their spacious living room.
Alina was clearly delighted to meet him and once Sam had recovered from her very boisterous welcome, he was equally pleased to meet her, immediately seeing that she was exactly Vasily’s type, which could best be described as pretty but sturdy.
However, Alina seemed extremely nice and quickly explained to Sam that she had awoken earlier that morning to find her husband missing and a note to say he had gone to help a friend but would be back soon. Unfortunately that was all she could offer as she knew no more.
In return, Sam told her how he had flown in from New York the day before especially to surprise his old friend. Alina was clearly thrilled by this and co
uld barely contain her excitement knowing how pleased Vas would be to see him - and no doubt very relieved, too.
Nonetheless, after a brief chat, she sat Sam down in an armchair and insisted on making him a pot of English tea - which she had become quite partial to since moving to London.
Sam was happy to indulge her and with nothing else to do was quite content to wait until Vas came home - eager to be reunited with him.
A few minutes later, Alina returned from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with a teapot, two decorative bone china teacups and a plate piled high with biscuits.
She set the tray down on the polished mahogany coffee table in front of Sam, then sat down in the chair next to his.
However, as she reached for the teapot, the doorbell rang.
Alina’s excitement was clear to see as she jumped up in anticipation of her husband’s return. “That will be him,” she beamed, “please excuse while I answer door.”
Sam nodded and returned her smile, a flutter of excitement in his own stomach. “Of course,” he said.
He watched as Alina left the room and listened as she bounded down the hallway to answer the front door.
A moment later he heard her turn the latch and waited expectantly for the familiar boom of Vasily’s voice.
But instead, he heard something entirely different and quickly sprang to his feet, immediately rushing to Alina’s aid, knowing her to be in danger.
***
Sam arrived beside her mere seconds after Gillespie had run off down the corridor. Quickly, he checked to make sure Alina was unharmed then dashed out of the doorway in pursuit of the stranger.
However, as he raced after him, just a few strides behind, Sam noticed the two people exiting the elevator whom Gillespie was about to attack.
At that moment, he recognised Vas. What is more, he also recognised the badly bruised, clearly petrified woman his best friend was with and saw the terrible danger they were both in.
Perfect Day Page 41