Breath of Corruption

by Caro Fraser

  He’d only got into it because he was big and tough, and because the money had been better than anything else he could make. But it was shit work, dirty work. It was pretty boring, too. With Irina, he would get into something better, make more money for both of them. She was smart and beautiful, Irina – with her, he could do anything.

  He was so busy daydreaming that he almost forgot what he was meant to be doing. Shit – Viktor must have been in there nearly ten minutes. Marko jumped to his feet and went out into the corridor to Irina’s room. He rapped on the door.

  There was silence for a moment, then Viktor’s voice shouted, ‘What?’

  ‘It’s Marko, boss. I need a word.’

  Viktor came to the door in his shirtsleeves, not best pleased. ‘Yeah, what?’

  Marko had already worked out what he would say. ‘That guy’s downstairs. The one we sold the dope to yesterday. He says it’s no good. He wants to see you.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘He’s really mad, talking about sending some of his boys over. I think you should see him.’

  Viktor swore under his breath. ‘I’ll go down.’ He came out, closing the door behind him. Marko watched him go to the lift, wondering what he was meant to do next.

  Irina sat on the bed, staring at Viktor’s jacket. Should she? The idea was suddenly terrifying. What if he came back in and caught her? Had he gone downstairs or not? Why didn’t Marko tell her? God, Marko was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She got up and went to the door, putting her ear to it. She couldn’t hear voices. She went back to the chair and stared again at the jacket. Then, heart thumping, she slipped her hand into the inside pocket and it closed round a fat wallet. Yes! She pulled it out and flipped it open, and saw it was stuffed with notes. She had no idea what their value was, but they had the look of decent money. Credit cards too. She was about to move away from the chair, when the door opened. Terror tightened her throat. She turned, and it was Marko.

  ‘My God; you frightened me!’

  ‘Come on!’ Marko’s own eyes were wide and anxious. ‘Come on! There’s no one about. But move! He’ll come back up when he finds there’s no one there!’

  Irina grabbed her jacket from the wardrobe, and picked up her bag and stuffed Viktor’s wallet into it. Her hands were shaking so badly it made everything slow. Swearing, almost sobbing with fear, certain Viktor would be back in the room before she could even get out of it, she tugged the zip shut.

  ‘Come on!’ Marko’s voice was urgent, almost frantic. They both knew, in this moment, how bad it would be for them if things went wrong. She hurried to the door, and Marko took her hand, and the next thing they were heading along the corridor towards the staircase. If Viktor came out of the lift in the next ten seconds and found her gone, they wouldn’t even make it as far as the street. The stairwell seemed to go on forever, but at last they were at the bottom, and there was the door leading to the lobby.

  ‘What if he’s still out there?’ said Irina.

  ‘I’ll look,’ said Marko. ‘Hold on.’

  She let him go, counting the seconds. They seemed endless. And then he was back. ‘Come on. He’s gone up.’

  That Viktor had gone back up meant that they had very little time to get out and away. But as she walked as calmly as possible across the lobby, past the reception desk, she could see and smell the air of the street beyond, and taste her freedom.

  Then they were outside, and Marko was just about dragging her towards a taxi passing with its light on. They got in, and Marko told the driver to go to Euston Station.

  ‘Why did you say that place?’ asked Irina.

  Marko shrugged, his eyes still combing the street anxiously. ‘I don’t know. It’s a big station with trains that go to other cities.’

  She realised he had no kind of a plan, but it didn’t matter anyway. She was going to be rid of him soon enough.

  When they reached the station they went into a Starbucks, bought coffees and sat down. Irina took Viktor’s wallet from her bag and began to go through its contents. She pulled out the thick bundle of notes and showed it to Marko. ‘How much is this?’ she asked.

  Marko stared at his boss’s money with frightened eyes. A sheaf of fifties, and the rest twenties. ‘A lot.’ Then he added, ‘Put it away.’

  Irina stuffed the notes back in the wallet. She looked to see what else was in it. Receipts, credit cards … She pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. She read Leo’s name and address. ‘What’s this?’ she asked, showing it to Marko.

  Marko took the piece of paper. ‘Some guy. A lawyer. Viktor paid him a visit to make sure he kept quiet about some business or other. I drove him round there.’ He nodded. ‘Nice house. Expensive.’

  ‘He’s not a friend of Viktor’s?’

  ‘No way.’ Marko watched as Irina folded the paper up and put it back in the wallet. Suddenly Marko’s mobile phone began to buzz. He pulled it from his pocket and stared at the screen with anxious eyes. ‘Shit. It’s Viktor.’

  ‘Don’t answer it!’

  ‘You think I’m mad?’ He put the phone on the table, where it buzzed a few more times before falling silent. Marko rubbed his hands over his big face, trying to think. How long till Viktor put it all together? Maybe he already had. ‘Listen,’ said Marko, ‘we need to get out of London fast. We need to go right away, to some other city. I’m gonna see what trains there are and buy us tickets. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Irina nodded.

  She watched him cross the concourse, then disappear into the milling streams of people. Irina put Viktor’s wallet in her bag and got up. As she was about to leave, she saw Marko’s mobile still lying on the table. She picked it up and thrust it into her bag. She left the coffee shop, glanced once in the direction in which Marko had gone, then turned and headed quickly the other way towards the exit. In a few seconds she was out on the street and, without knowing where she was or where she was going, she turned right and started walking.

  Just keep walking, she thought, and he’ll never find you. But as the seconds passed she became convinced Marko had come out of the station looking for her, that he was behind her and would catch up with her any minute. She had to get away further and faster.

  She saw a black cab with its light on, like the one she and Marko had taken from the hotel, and waved her hand. It pulled over, and she got in.

  ‘Where to, love?’ asked the cabbie. She met his eye in the mirror. Her heart was beating painfully hard. Where was she to go? She knew no one in this city. She had no passport, no papers, nothing. She didn’t want to be arrested. She just wanted to get home, but she didn’t know how to do that. She needed someone to help her. She dived into her bag and pulled out Viktor’s wallet, and from it she took the piece of paper and unfolded it. She stared at it for a moment. A lawyer. From what Marko had said, this man was not Viktor’s friend. That didn’t necessarily make him her friend, but it was a name and an address, and it was worth trying. What had she to lose? There was nowhere else to go.

  She handed the paper to the cabbie and said, ‘Please. This place.’

  The cabbie set his meter running and drove off through the traffic in the direction of Chelsea.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  That evening, when he heard the doorbell ring, Leo took the precaution of looking through the little spyhole in the front door, something he had never bothered to do in the past, to make sure it wasn’t another Ukrainian gangster in a dodgy coat. What he saw on his doorstep was a worried-looking, dark-haired young woman, apparently on her own.

  Leo opened the door. The girl looked at him, saying nothing, her expression still anxious.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked Leo.

  Irina had no idea what she was getting into here. Anyone that Viktor knew, even an enemy of his, could be just as bad as he was. She stared at Leo. He was a handsome man, with silver hair and blue eyes, and a face that looked kind – but kind looks could mean nothing.

  ‘I need help,’ she ventured. Her voice was
hesitant, her accent very thick. Not another Eastern European, thought Leo wearily. They were everywhere these days. What did this one want? Was she collecting for something, or begging? She didn’t look like a beggar – her clothes were cheaply fashionable, and she herself was very attractive.

  ‘Look,’ said Leo, digging in his pocket, ‘this isn’t something I usually do, but take this. Go on – off you go.’ He held out a twenty-pound note.

  Irina looked at it, then at him. He had spoken so quickly she hadn’t understood anything he’d said. She shook her head. ‘No. Not money.’ Leo was nonplussed. Then the girl said, ‘You are Mr Davies?’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ asked Leo.

  She held out the piece of paper with his name and address on it. Leo took it and read it. Wondering what the hell was going on, he said, ‘You’d better come in.’

  He showed the girl into the living room and sat her down in a chair. He asked her name, and she told him.

  ‘Where are you from? Your country?’

  ‘Ukraine,’ she replied.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ he asked her, indicating the piece of paper.

  ‘A man – Viktor Kroitor,’ she replied. The name meant nothing to Leo, but it was evident that she must in some way be connected to the creep who’d come to his house a week ago.

  ‘Who is Viktor Kroitor?’ he asked.

  She swallowed hard, thinking. At length she said, ‘He is man who bring me from Ukraine to here, to London. I am to be dancer here. He take my – my – my – papers – I don’t know—’

  ‘Your passport,’ said Leo, beginning to get the picture.

  She nodded. ‘My passport.’ She gulped again, fighting back tears. ‘But no work. No dancer work. He keep me in hotel, and I have to – I have to—’ She floundered again, gesticulating in hopeless misery.

  ‘He made you a prostitute,’ said Leo.

  ‘Yes – yes. I am prostitute with other girls.’ She burst into tears, and Leo went to the kitchen to get her some water, hoping she wasn’t going to make off with all the valuables from the living room in his absence. She seemed utterly believable, however. Was Viktor Kroitor the man who had come to threaten him? It seemed likely, if something of a coincidence.

  He gave Irina the water and she drank it, and grew calmer. Leo pulled up a chair near to hers and sat down. She had begun to talk frantically in Ukrainian, and he had to stop her.

  ‘Calm down,’ he said, speaking slowly, ‘I can’t understand anything you say. Talk English, and tell me how you found me, how you got this piece of paper.’

  ‘There was man at hotel. Marko. Viktor’s man. He like me, he help me.’

  ‘He got you out of the hotel?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And where is he now, this man Marko?’ The last thing he wanted was yet another mad Ukrainian battering on his door tonight.

  Irina shrugged and said, ‘I lose him.’ She sincerely hoped that Marko was enjoying a miserable time wandering the streets of London in fear of his life, but she wouldn’t have said this to Leo Davies, even if she could. She dug in her bag and brought out Viktor’s wallet. ‘Viktor Kroitor’s. I take from hotel.’ She pointed to the piece of paper. ‘Your name is in it. Marko say – he say Viktor come here to – to – not be nice?’

  ‘To threaten me.’ Leo nodded. So this Viktor Kroitor was the man who’d come here, which was why she’d found his name and address in his wallet. It made sense. Not so much of a coincidence, after all.

  ‘So I think – you might be friend. You might help? I know nowhere else to go.’ Her eyes were fastened hopefully on his face.

  Leo looked inside the wallet. Who the hell carried this much cash around? Presumably only gangsters. He inspected the credit cards and put them back.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked Irina.

  She nodded hesitantly, smiling for the first time, and tears came to her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  Leo took her into the kitchen and made her an omelette and a cup of coffee. Gradually he learnt her story – how she hadn’t had enough money to carry on her studies in Odessa, how Viktor Kroitor had promised her work, and she had believed him, and what had happened to her since.

  Leo made himself some coffee and watched her as she ate. So she was a part of it all. This wretched girl represented the kind of profits that Viktor Kroitor was laundering through Sir Dudley Humble’s company. How many other girls had been tricked and enslaved by this man Kroitor? How much more misery did he deal in? Leo supposed that if he were a good, upstanding citizen, he would take her to the police, and let them deal with Viktor Kroitor. If they could find him.

  ‘Do you know where the hotel is? The one where Viktor Kroitor was keeping you?’ he asked Irina.

  She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t know.’

  So there was no way of leading the police straight to Kroitor. Anything could happen in the meantime. Kroitor obviously had connections and very good intelligence. If he found out Leo had taken Irina to the police, he might well carry out his threat to harm Rachel or Oliver.

  Leo poured Irina another cup of coffee. On one view, she was an unfortunate young woman who ought to be taken straight to the Ukrainian Embassy and put on a plane back home. On the other hand …

  Am I mad? thought Leo. Was there really anything to be gained by opening up negotiations with this criminal bastard Kroitor? He would have to think this out very carefully. He went out to the garden, where the mid-evening September air was already chilly, and paced the lawn, keeping an occasional eye on Irina through the window, weighing up the options. It was like a legal case, he told himself, another problem with a variety of solutions. All he had to do was maximise his chances of a favourable outcome. He pondered the matter for a while, and at length decided that the answer was the usual one – to seek a settlement with the other side, if possible.

  A movement caught his eye, and he glanced towards the kitchen to see Irina gesturing to him. He went inside.

  ‘Bell,’ she said, pointing to the hall in alarm. The doorbell sounded again.

  Christ, thought Leo, if the situation wasn’t so serious, it would be verging on the farcical. Cautiously he went to the door and looked through the spyhole. There on the doorstep stood Lola, dressed up to the nines. He opened the door.

  ‘Leo—’ She reached up and exchanged air kisses with him – ‘I was on my way to a do in Markham Square Gardens, and was in danger of being uncharacteristically on time, so I thought I’d drop in and see you.’ Leo opened the door wider to let her in. ‘I have to tell you I’m very worried about Anthea. I don’t care if you think I’m interfering, but she’s absolutely my best friend in the world, and I can’t bear to see her so miserable.’

  ‘You needn’t worry about Anthea. She’s upset for no reason. Her sister Lucy has been telling lies and making trouble. She admitted it to me. I’ve had a word with Lucy and it’s going to be sorted out in the next day or two, I promise you. I texted her, saying Lucy had something to tell her. Come through and have a drink.’

  ‘God, that kid’s a monster,’ said Lola, as she followed Leo into the kitchen. She began to shrug off her jacket, then paused when she saw Irina standing there. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you had—’

  ‘This is Irina. I’ve only just made her acquaintance. Irina, this is my friend Lola.’ He mixed Lola a gin and tonic and handed it to her. ‘Sit down and hear something. You happen to have walked into one of the most grotesque situations of my life. I’d like to explain it to someone, and it might as well be you.’

  And Leo, over the next ten minutes, told Lola everything that had happened to him since the day that Viktor Kroitor had come to the house. Why tell Lola? He had no idea, except that she was so extraneous to all of it, that he could think of no one better.

  Irina stood listening to the incomprehensible babble of their speedy English, picking up very little of what was going on. Her feelings of loneliness and insecurity were made even more intense by
being in this nice house, among these lucky people so sure of themselves and their place in the world. She had no idea what they were deciding on her behalf. Furtively she admired Lola’s expensive, fashionable clothes, and beautifully manicured hands and made-up face, and each time that Lola glanced in her direction, Irina gave a nervous, tentative smile.

  ‘My God, Leo,’ said Lola, when Leo had finished. ‘What a bloody awful situation. What are you going to do?’ She actually thought it was pretty exciting, given how mundane life generally was.

  ‘I was thinking about that just before you arrived. My priority is to make sure that this man Kroitor stops threatening my family. Inadvisable as it may sound, I intend to talk to him. But in order to do that effectively, I need to have Irina tucked away safely somewhere, as a potential witness. She’s my bargaining counter. I don’t care about Kroitor, or what he gets up to, so long as I can make sure he stays away from me and my family. Not very public-spirited, perhaps, but there it is.’

  ‘No, darling, I quite agree. I’m entirely on your side. But when you say “tucked away”—?’

  ‘Viktor Kroitor must have no idea of her possible whereabouts, so she can’t stay here.’

  Lola gave Irina another glance. This was all so intriguing, and really rather fun. ‘I suppose—’ She paused thoughtfully. ‘Have you any other friends, who know about this?’

  ‘Lola, darling, I’m not asking you to have her. Don’t worry.’