I just bet I am, she thought, smiling back at him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Staring out of the bedroom window, Tarasov turned and glared at the slave girl as she placed his clothes on the bed. This one had puzzled him for a while, she reminded him of someone from way back.
‘Where do you originate from, peasant?’ he suddenly snapped.
Startled, she dropped his shirt on the floor.
‘Clumsy. Repress it.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Quickly, she picked the shirt up and hurried into the small utility room.
‘Come back.’
She appeared in the doorway a second later, shirt still in hand, a terrified look on her face.
‘You have not answered my question.’
She swallowed hard. ‘From, from Newcastle, sir.’
‘Newcastle?’ He had memories of Newcastle. ’Newcastle in the northeast of England?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Did you know the girl who escaped?’
‘Not really, sir.’
Tarasov stared at her, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind had wandered off to a woman he had once loved. The only woman he had ever loved. Not his wife, Juliana - that had only been a marriage of convenience, with one of the families. She had given birth to his two legal children, then conveniently died.
No, this woman had somehow found her way into his heart as no other person ever had. Then, shortly after giving birth to the outbreed Mike Yorke, she had disappeared. No matter how hard he’d tried, with every resource on earth, he had never found her. Could this girl somehow be related to her?
She comes from the same city.
‘Your parents, you know both?’
She nodded.
‘Speak, girl. Tell me about them.’
His heart had dipped for a moment when she’d indicated that she had both parents, but that meant absolutely nothing. She could have been adopted.
‘Are they your real parents?’
She nodded again.
‘Speak, girl, or I’ll have you beaten.’
Quickly she replied, ‘They are both still alive.’
‘And living where?’
‘New…Newcastle.’ She stared wide-eyed at him. ‘Please don’t hurt them.’
‘Are you adopted?’
She shook her head.
‘Is that no, you’re not, or no, you don’t know?’
‘I’m not…Please don’t hurt them.’
‘I have no intentions of doing so.’ He waved his hand at her. 'Get on with your work.’
He filled a glass with brandy, and sat down on a brown leather chair facing a huge TV screen. It was early, even by his standards, for alcohol, but he didn’t intend on socialising where he would have to keep his wits about him. His intentions were to dwell on the past and a certain woman, and how she had managed to remain hidden from him for all these years.
It had been hot that day, all those years ago, a day much like today, when she’d disappeared into thin air on a trip to the north of England. He had not known she’d been pregnant at the time. It wasn’t until the child had been in his twenties that, through a regular blood test that one of the family doctors had been carrying out, Mike Yorke had come to his notice.
But she had been the one who had changed him, the one person that had made him see that the way of the families was wrong. It had been easy to keep the pretence up, though once or twice he had nearly slipped up and had received a few strange looks from family members. It had only been recently that he’d been able to get his point across that the way was wrong.
He had instigated the change, and knew a few others thought the same as him. Definitely others down the centuries had thought the same, also. Ten years ago, the inner wheel of agents had been formed. So far they had managed to foil a few assassinations, which would have led to a lot more wars going on around the world. Plus his money, and that of a few others, were keeping solvent the safe houses scattered around the world.
He sipped from his glass, taking a moment to savour the fine old brandy. The wretched girl had certainly reminded him of Melissa. Same beautiful eyes, same face structure - though Melissa had never been cowed. Melissa had an air about her that screamed, 'Enjoy me while you can, ‘cos I’m not stopping long.'
He smiled. She hadn’t stopped long either, one beautiful summer and she had escaped.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mike narrowed his eyes as the bedroom door opened and a small fair-haired woman, he guessed somewhere in her early twenties, slipped in.
Not another relative, he thought.
Ella quickly reached his bedside. ‘Mike Yorke?’
‘Yes, that’s me. But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.’
Ella looked him over and grinning, said, ’Yeah, rather.’
Putting the clothes she carried onto the bottom of the bed, she grabbed the key off the bedside table and set about loosening the handcuffs.
A few minutes later, Mike was fully dressed in a waiter's uniform. He flexed his arms. The black jacket was slightly tight across his shoulders and arms, but it did the job.
Ella nodded her head in satisfaction. ‘You’ll pass.’
‘I better had. So what’s the plan, and who are you working for?’
‘Aunt May.’
‘What?’ Mike reeled with the news. ‘You mean, my--’
‘Yes.’
She stared at him as he digested what she’d said. She could see it was a problem, but one he would have to contemplate later. Time was of the essence. If they had any chance of escape without her being compromised, it had to be now.
‘Come on, we’ve got to move. Remember, if we bump into anyone, anyone at all, keep your head down. Do not, unless it’s demanded, look at their face… And you are not with me. I do not know you.’ She expressed her words with feeling, and cut short what she was about to say - that for the greater good of all, everyone was expendable, even Mike Yorke.
Mike nodded. ‘OK, I get it.’
He followed her to the door. Slowly Ella opened it and looked up and down the corridor. Slipping quickly outside, she left Mike to close the door behind them, and hurried along to the lift. Close behind her, Mike’s mind was racing, putting two and two together, only they added up to nothing.
‘Damn! What the fucking hell is it that I don’t know?’ he muttered.
Reaching the lift without mishap, Ella frowned at him as she pressed the basement button. ‘Remember, if there’s anybody about, in the lift or downstairs, we don’t know each other.’
‘So what do I say if anyone asks?’
‘You’re new here OK. Better still, can you speak any foreign languages?’
‘A smattering of German, really just a few basic words.’
‘That’ll do. Not many Germans here, but perhaps a couple who are fluent, so pray we don’t bump into them.’
The lift arrived. Both of them held their breath as the doors slowly opened, Ella nearly collapsing with relief when it was empty. Inside, she pressed the button for the basement.
‘You could live in here,’ Mike said, looking around the luxurious lift. ‘What the hell's the rest of the place like, if the lift is as good as this?’
‘Way more than luxurious,’ Ella replied. The next moment, the lift slowed down and came to a stop on floor three.
‘Shit,’ she muttered, her heartbeat doubling as the doors started to open.
NORTHUMBERLAND
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Susan Cleverly ran down the small incline, and reached the bottom at the same time as Rafferty stopped rolling. Grabbing her top with both hands, she hauled the shaken woman to her feet.
Rafferty tried to fight her off. Slapping Susan’s face with her right hand, she reached for her hair with her left. But Susan, trained in more than one martial art, was too quick for her. Slipping her right foot behind Rafferty’s right leg, she pushed hard against both of her shoulders, sending Rafferty back down to the ground. Rolling away from
her, Rafferty jumped up and faced Susan.
‘Back off, now! You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I mean it. One phone call, that’s all it will take.’
Susan laughed in her face. ’Oh, I know only too well who I’m dealing with here. It’s you who hasn’t got a clue.’ She stepped forward, her hands raised, just as Rafferty was about to run at her. Susan leapt forward, grabbed Rafferty’s neck and twisted hard.
The strength needed to break someone’s neck is much more than the average person has, even one trained in martial arts. As a slowing down tactic it worked well, though, giving Susan time to pull a knife from her pocket. She thrust upwards, stabbing Rafferty under her ribcage and into her heart. Twisting the blade, her face at first close to Rafferty’s, Susan made eye contact, and watched the life disappear from Rafferty's eyes as she slowly slid to the ground.
‘Now you know,’ she muttered.
Stepping quickly back, she looked around. There was no one in sight. Taking a moment to wipe the blood off her knife and her hands on the grass, she then put the knife away, and quickly headed off in the direction taken by Kristina. In less than a minute, she was outside the blue-washed cottage.
The door was pulled open before she had a chance to knock. The man who stood there, fisherman Patrick Logan, smiled at her through his heavy black beard. Although in his late fifties, Patrick also had a full head of black hair. He stepped back, ushering her through, rummaging in his brown corduroy trousers for his pipe as he did so.
‘Where did you come from?’ Kristina asked, slightly amazed by Susan’s appearance when she had been expecting Rafferty. She was still getting over the fact that Patrick had been expecting her and had welcomed her into his cottage with open arms, offering her a cup of tea, telling her in the same breath that they would be sailing in less than an hour with the tide. There would be no time, and it would be far too dangerous, to take her back home to pick up some of her belongings. With the tea, Patrick had brought a bowl of water and clean cloths for Katrina to wash the blood off her face, which is what she had been doing when Cleverly entered the cottage.
‘There’s a clean-up job for you back there, Patrick, two minutes walk in one of the dips to the right,’ Susan said, indicating with her head the direction in which she’d left Rafferty.
Patrick nodded, knocking the spent tobacco out of his pipe in preparation of a new batch. ‘I expected as much.’ He looked at Kristina, with raised eyebrows. ‘I won't be long.’
‘Care to tell me just what the hell is going on?’ Kristina asked, looking at Susan, when Patrick had closed the door behind him.
‘Guess I’m gonna have to leave that to Aunt May. Really got to get back and cover my tracks, though I doubt anyone at the station is ever going to miss Sergeant Rafferty.’
Kristina frowned. ‘Why, what have you done to her?’
‘My job.’
Inside Kristina shivered. Constable Cleverly was no more the mild-mannered constable she’d thought she was. Just what the hell have I been missing?
‘So what exactly is that?’
‘Mainly to look after you, whatever it takes.’
Katrina raised her eyebrows. ‘On whose orders?’
‘Aunt May’s.’
Kristina mulled it over for a minute, then asked, ‘Just where does Aunt May fit into all of this?’
‘Everywhere.’
‘OK…’
‘Look, just be patient. It’s a long story. Aunt May will put you right when you get there.’
‘Where?’
‘Norwich.’
‘OK, so--’
‘Please. Here’s Patrick… Come on, move it. Sorted?’ Susan asked, as Patrick appeared in the doorway.
‘Yes, just need a few things and we’re off.’
A minute later, two of them were heading for Patrick’s boat, while the third headed back to her car.
LONDON
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
After filling the car up, receiving countless stares and ignoring them all, Rita strutted in her best pink high heels past the cars that were pulling up for petrol in the garage. She’d dumped the yellow sundress and settled for white jeans and a pink top, with huge pink and white hoop earrings.
The plan was to stock up on sandwiches, pop and crisps to save them stopping for dinner on the two-and-a-half hour journey to Norwich, which in reality, with the traffic, would probably be three hours. She winked at a big hairy white-van driver filling up at the last pump. She knew he was about to whistle, until he realised what she was and nearly had a heart attack. Grinning to herself, she went inside, picked a basket up and started filling it with the requested goodies for Danny and Smiler, not forgetting dog chews for Tiny.
She paid at the till with one of her many credit cards, marvelling to herself how she remembered each card number. The next time she needed one in London it would be a different card, so that she couldn’t be traced from one place to the other.
Back in the car, Danny gently pushed Tiny’s head away from his face as the dog seemed to be determined to lick him to death.
‘Don’t hurt him,’ Smiler snapped, scowling at Danny.
‘I’m not,’ Danny snapped back. ‘Wouldn’t anyhow. What the fuck makes you think I would hurt any dog? I’m not a fucking monster, you know.’
‘How do I know that, eh? Don’t fucking know who you are. Could be a fucking paedo for all I know.’
Danny, his face red with anger, was about to retort when Rita came back. Handing a carrier bag over to Danny, she said, ‘Come on now, girls, play nice please. And you sit down, Tiny. Now.’
Tiny immediately sat down and, tongue lolling out, tail whipping up a mini tornado, looked hopefully at Rita. Rita had deliberately seated Smiler and Danny together in the back of the car, hoping that they would get to know each other, and at least form a truce of sorts. She guessed that so far it wasn’t working, judging by the looks they kept throwing at each other, along with the insults they kept trading when they did speak.
‘Tell shit for brains I ain't no fucking paedo, will you? Before I just get up and fucking go,’ Danny shouted at Rita.
‘Smiler!’ Rita said, glaring at him. ‘What’s got into you? Danny’s nothing of the sort.’
Smiler tutted and looked the other way, while Danny pulled a face as he rummaged through the bag, pulling out a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, a Mars bar and a can of Diet Coke before handing the bag over to Smiler. Taking the bag Smiler, watched by Tiny, opened the dog chews first.
Most of the journey was spent in silence. No matter how many times Rita tried to start a conversation, on whatever subject, neither Danny nor Smiler were in the mood for small talk. Both of them sat staring out of the windows, a stubborn look on both their faces.
Giving up, Rita put on a CD of the Eagles' Greatest Hits and, turning the volume up high, thought, 'Like it or lump it, guys'.
About half an hour from Norwich, Rita pulled into another garage. Jumping out of the car, she went round to the boot and took a dark blue holdall out.
Danny heaved an impatient sigh, and gave a couldn’t-care-less, one-shouldered shrug as Rita said, 'Won't be a minute, guys.’
‘Tiny needs more water, Rita,’ Smiler shouted after her.
‘I’m on it,’ she shouted back over her shoulder.
Ten minutes later, when she still wasn’t back, Danny said, ‘So where the hell is she…he?’
‘She. When it’s Rita, it’s she, and when it’s Robert, it's…’
That was as far as he got. A tall, dark-haired young man in black jeans and t-shirt strode out of the garage, up to the car and opened the door.
‘What the fuck?’ Danny yelled, scrambling to get out of the car. ’It’s them. It’s them… Quick, get out. Now, Smiler, move it! The bastard's one of them. Told you we wasn’t safe anywhere. They must have topped that Rita bloke. Come on, man, move it.’
‘It’s all right, don’t panic. It’s me.’ Robert threw the holdall onto the floor of the front se
at. ‘Danny, it’s all right - it’s me.’
But Danny wasn’t listening. As Robert grabbed the car door handle in an attempt to keep it shut, Danny, in a state of panic, found strength he never knew he had, pushing the door open, and ripping one of Robert’s nails off in the process. Shrugging Smiler off as he grabbed for his cardigan, he was out of the car and bolting for the exit before either of them could do anything.
‘Shit!’ Robert said. ‘I should have told him what I was going to do, but never gave it a thought.’
‘We better get after him,’ Smiler said, pulling the door shut.
Robert jumped into the car. ‘Which way did he go?’
‘Actually, changed me mind. Let the scruffy fucker go, ‘cos I’m not really bothered. He stinks worse than Tiny does when he’s been out in the rain.’
‘Smiler!’
‘What?’
Robert glared at him.
‘OK… OK… He turned left.’
Robert drove out of the petrol station. ‘Can you see him?’
Smiler rose up in his seat and, leaning forward, peered out the front window. ‘Not yet.’
‘He must have turned off. But which way?’
‘Left, go left. Here, this one,’ Smiler almost shouted. ‘He’s gone left, I can fucking well smell him.’
Pulling a face at Smiler in the rear view mirror, Robert spun the wheel, just missing an old man and his black-and-white Jack Russell as they stepped off the path. Yelling, ‘Sorry!’ and sucking his little finger with the missing nail, he drove on down a tree-lined avenue with large houses on each side. ‘Any sign yet?’
‘No. Keep moving.’
‘Shit. We’ve got to find him before they do.’
‘There he is! Just beside that red car, about seven houses down.’
‘OK… Got him.’
Robert pressed the accelerator. A moment later, he was spinning in front of the red car and blocking the road off. They both jumped out of the car, Smiler running round the back while Robert ran around the front end, and they managed to trap Danny between them.
Holy Island Trilogy 03 - The Final Countdown Page 11