Tell Me A Lie (The Dan Forrester series)

by CJ Carver

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Sunday 1 February

  Dan saw the Audi was still moving. Several people were watching but nobody came to help. He wished he had a gun. He wanted to be proactive, not a fixed target for whatever assassin had been sent. He put one arm beneath Ekaterina’s shoulders, the other beneath her knees. With a surge of strength he rose to his feet, holding her in his arms. He was about to head back to the church, the only shelter he could think of, when a woman shouted.

  ‘Daniel!’

  He glanced round to see a woman standing beside the Audi. She was waving frantically.

  ‘Get in!’

  It was Ekaterina’s elfin friend from last night. Her stunning companion who’d been at the bar. She ran to open the rear door. Nobody appeared to be inside.

  ‘Quick!’ she shouted. She leaped back into the driver’s seat, edging the car closer to him, shouting for him to hurry!

  He charged for the Audi. Another shot rang out. He hadn’t been hit. What about Ekaterina? No time to think. He scrambled on to the back seat, still clutching Ekaterina, and slammed the door behind him. Her friend immediately took off with the rear fishtailing in the slush before settling on to the road.

  A clank of metal told him a bullet had hit the car. Then the driver’s window shattered, spraying glass, but although the woman gave a small scream, she was gutsy and didn’t pause. She drove hard to the end of the street and spun right, gunned down the next street. Dan looked through the rear window but couldn’t see anyone following. Had a sniper been in place? Hidden somewhere unobtrusive and static? Was that why they weren’t being chased?

  ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

  ‘Call me Maria.’

  ‘Maria, where are we going?’

  ‘A friend’s place. Katya told me that if anything went wrong, we should go there.’

  Dan settled Ekaterina better on his lap. He was soaked in sweat and his coat and hands were covered in blood. He hadn’t realised he’d taken off his gloves. He had no idea where he’d put them. He put his hand over her wound and pressed hard, trying to slow the blood flow. Then he saw another wound, lower down. She’d been shot twice. His heart clenched. ‘She needs a hospital.’

  ‘We cannot. They will find her.’

  ‘Who is “they”?’

  ‘Katya told me no matter what happens we must not go to a hospital or to any authority. No police, nobody official or they will find out.’

  He repeated his question. ‘Who is “they”?’

  She said, ‘The FSB.’ Her voice was scared.

  Russia’s domestic intelligence agency. Which had fingers in every security pie from the police to border control and counter-espionage. Dan let the information settle in his mind. He said, ‘Does this friend of Ekaterina’s know a doctor?’

  Maria didn’t answer.

  ‘Who shot her?’ Dan asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her voice shook. He looked at her in the rear-view mirror. Her mouth was trembling, her enormous eyes wide with fear.

  ‘You’re doing great,’ he said. ‘You saved our lives.’

  ‘She said it might be dangerous. I didn’t really believe her. I thought she was exaggerating.’

  ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘I drove us to the church. Katya, she asked me to look out for her. She was worried that she was being watched. I thought she was being paranoid. I didn’t realise . . .’ She paused as she ran a red light. Sounded the horn as a pedestrian began to cross the road.

  ‘Who’s watching her?’

  ‘All she said was that she needed my help. I went with her last night, as a cover. So she could meet you discreetly.’

  ‘She told those men I was her pimp.’

  Maria met his eyes in the mirror. ‘We are not prostitutes.’ She said it very flat.

  The Audi crossed the Moskva River. They appeared to be heading west. It started to snow.

  ‘How is she?’ Maria asked.

  Ekaterina’s face was paper-white. Her breathing was shallow, her pulse weakening. ‘How long until we reach your friend?’

  ‘Ten minutes.’

  ‘Don’t give up,’ he told Ekaterina fiercely. ‘Keep fighting, OK? We’ll get you to a doctor. They’ll fix you up.’

  He felt Maria looking at him in the mirror. He met her gaze. ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Tell me everything she told you about me.’

  ‘She was nervous at seeing you. She wasn’t sure how you’d react.’

  ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘That to meet you was the most important thing in her life.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She didn’t say.’

  Raising his gaze he saw the streets were less busy and that Maria had increased her speed, the Audi rocketing along. Finally she slowed and turned right, and at the end of the next street, pulled up outside a block of apartments. Without saying anything, she got outside, jogged to the front door and pressed an intercom button. Spoke briefly.

  Thirty seconds later, no more, a lanky man in his forties came out and hurried to the car. Thick dark hair going grey at the temples, dark eyes, sallow skin. He wore a green patterned sweater over a pair of grey trousers. When he saw Ekaterina, his face went tight with shock.

  ‘Katen’ka,’ he whispered. He rounded on Maria, who spoke urgently. The man looked dismayed, then horrified. He snapped something at Maria, who said to Dan, ‘We must get Katya inside.’

  Between them they carried Ekaterina into the building and up two sets of stairs. Into an apartment that smelled of stew and cigarettes. Into a double bedroom. Piles of clothes everywhere, CDs and books. They placed her gently on the bed. The man and Maria spoke swiftly in Russian. When the man referred to Ekaterina he used the diminutive Katen’ka. Where Maria used Katya, appropriate for friends and work colleagues, Katen’ka was only used by close family members. Or lovers.

  ‘How do you know Ekaterina?’ Dan asked the man.

  ‘I’m her brother.’

  His name was Fyodor. He was a playwright, divorced with two children – who apparently lived with their mother – but he didn’t say any more. Maria stayed with Ekaterina while Fyodor went to a phone on the wall and made a call.

  ‘Who are you ringing?’ asked Dan.

  ‘A doctor.’

  The doctor arrived fifteen minutes later. Small and thin, with angry red spots around his nose, he looked about eighteen, but he was confident and gave the impression that he knew what he was doing. When he had finished, the doctor moved into the kitchen where he and Fyodor spoke. Their voices rose. Fyodor seemed to be pleading with the doctor who responded with angry gestures.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Dan asked.

  The doctor shrugged, picked up his bag and made to leave.

  ‘Katen’ka needs blood,’ Fyodor said. His fists were clenched. ‘He wants a thousand dollars. I don’t have this.’

  ‘What do you have?’

  ‘I only have roubles. Four thousand.’

  Approximately a hundred and thirty dollars.

  Dan brought out four hundred dollars from his own wallet and combined the amounts. ‘That brings it to over five hundred dollars.’

  Dan went and stood next to the doctor. Showed him the money. ‘This is enough, yes?’

  The doctor licked his lips.

  Dan looked down at the man, waiting.

  The doctor swallowed. Took the money.

  ‘Da.’ Yes.

  He scurried outside.

  Dan tried to think what to do next. He’d come to Moscow to meet Lynx, who had been shot before she’d managed to impart much information. He recalled her questions about Jenny, her nod of satisfaction as she said, I’m sorry. I had to make sure. But it’s not her so much as –

  As what? How was his wife involved?

  He brought out his phone and although he was tempted to ring Jenny, he didn’t want to risk it. He might not have been shot but Ekaterina had, twice. Was Jenny in imminent danger? He felt an urgency descend upon him. He
had to get home. Make sure she and Aimee were safe.

  Dan looked around for Maria but couldn’t see her.

  ‘She left,’ Fyodor said.

  Dan moved to the window to see Maria’s brave red Audi was no longer there. She must have slipped away when they’d moved into the kitchen with the doctor. ‘What’s her real name?’

  ‘I’ve never seen her before,’ said Fyodor with a shake of his head.

  ‘How do I contact her?’

  Fyodor shrugged. ‘She is a stranger to me. You will have to wait for Ekaterina to wake up.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Milena Zhukov brushed the glass from the driver’s seat of her car and drove straight to the Audi dealership. She was grateful it took over an hour to get there. An hour for her to stop shaking. An hour to get her head around what had happened. Which was for Katya to get shot while meeting the Englishman.

  She’d thought the church visit a romantic tryst until she’d seen who Katya was with. She’d thought Katya’s references to danger were allusions to Edik’s temper should he find out she was being unfaithful. And with a Westerner! He hated Western capitalists. He’d like to see them lined up and shot, tossed into a pit and their bodies burned. Little wonder Katya had wanted to keep her meeting with Dan Forrester secret.

  She could remember when they’d first met him, at an embassy party over ten years ago. He was a good-looking man with humour on his lips and promise in his eyes, but what caught their attention was the aura of danger that surrounded him. Instantly attracted, they’d both made a play for him. Subtly of course, so Edik wouldn’t hear of it, but the Englishman hadn’t been interested. He’d flirted, to be sure, obviously flattered at their attention, but neither of them had scored.

  At least that’s what Milena had thought, but now she wasn’t so sure. What was Dan Forrester doing here now? Was it coincidence he’d been at the Radisson, or had Katya organised it? Perhaps he’d been the one to make contact. Perhaps he and Katya had had an affair – or were even still involved – and Edik had found out and ordered Katya to be killed? He could be violent, jealous and brutal but he had a soft spot for them, which they occasionally exploited, but carefully, and never in excess. And what about Dan Forrester? If Edik had gone after Katya, wouldn’t he have killed him as well? But instead Katya had taken two bullets and Dan none.

  Nothing made any sense.

  Fear roiled in her belly as she thought of Edik. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut when he’d asked what was up with Katya. She’d been unusually flighty and nervous over the past week or so and he was concerned.

  She hasn’t got herself into something she shouldn’t? he’d asked.

  Milena had said no, she didn’t think so, but then Edik said, I wanted to see her on Saturday night but she said she’s busy. She’s never been busy to me before.

  And, stupid woman that she was, Milena had told him that they were going on a girls’ night out at the Radisson. She hadn’t known Dan Forrester would be there. She’d thought Katya just wanted to kick up her heels and have a night out without their guardian. A night of freedom. Edik had seemed to understand, but now she remembered how paranoid he was, how he saw spies under every bed, eavesdroppers in each crevice of every wall. Had he spied on Katya, found out she was seeing the Englishman today? With a lurch of terror she realised this was highly likely.

  She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white. Why had she told him where they were going? Why, why, why?

  For the same reason that Katya hadn’t told her to keep their night out a secret, she realised. It was always far better to be open with Edik so you didn’t get caught in a lie. Early on he’d had them followed when they’d said they were going shopping, and again when they’d told him they were away for the weekend helping a friend move house. Those were the times when they’d known they were being spied on but now Milena guessed they’d been kept under surveillance more than they’d realised.

  And what about her? What was Edik going to do now she’d helped Katya and Dan? She felt sick with fear. Started shaking again. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Why had she helped them? What in God’s name had made her act the way she did? She wasn’t any kind of heroine . . . When she’d heard the shots ring out, for a moment she’d almost fled, but then she’d seen Katya fall. She hated herself for it, but she’d hesitated. She’d nearly driven away, abandoning her childhood friend to bleed on the pavement. That was what their current life had done to them. Made them venal and selfish, only thinking of keeping their own skins safe. Dan Forrester hadn’t run away. He’d sheltered Katya with his body. Then he’d picked up her friend and even though it was probably futile, had begun to run for the church. It was as though he’d demonstrated to Milena what she should be doing. Showing her what true courage was.

  She wasn’t brave. She was terrified.

  What should she do? She pictured Edik, sitting in his high-backed leather chair with his feet resting on the skin of a grey wolf he’d shot five years ago at the Kingisepp camp. His dirty blond hair. His broad knuckles with starbursts of scars. His seemingly friendly smile that could turn as mean and hungry as an alligator’s.

  They’d met Edik when they’d been nineteen, fresh from Irkutsk and as naive as a pair of kittens. They’d just been signed up by a modelling agency and were celebrating at the Simachev Bar when Edik had walked in. They’d been dazzled by him, his power, the way everybody kowtowed, toadying to his every whim. He’d flattered them, spoiled them, showering them with praise and presents. They’d lapped it up, secretly thrilled to have found such a wealthy benefactor, someone powerful who would protect as well as indulge them. An old man of fifty at that, who was married to a woman the same age as him, but who was rarely seen. No kids. Not that they would have cared.

  They immersed themselves in his life, pampered and pandered, always thankful that he didn’t demand sexual marathons or any disgusting or unnatural acts, just basic rutting sex and the occasional performance between the two of them, which was no big deal. They weren’t lesbians, but it didn’t bother them, not when he paid for their apartment, their cars and clothes. He’d bought them, they knew that, and they’d never regretted it. Not until today.

  What would Edik do?

  Would he forgive her? She didn’t want to have to abandon their beautiful apartment, turn her back on her luxurious and privileged lifestyle. She revelled in the parliamentary parties, the trips away, rubbing shoulders with influential people who spoke unguardedly in front of them, their discretion trusted and proven over the years. Milena began to cry. She couldn’t bear it if she had to start again. She still did a bit of modelling but nothing like she used to, and although she knew she was still beautiful, there were younger and more beautiful girls out there now. How could she avert the disaster heading her way? What miracle should she start praying for?

  She wiped her eyes as she pulled into the Audi garage, making a concerted effort to bring her emotions under control. She had to hide her distress or the sharks would start to circle. Using the vanity mirror, she reapplied her make-up before taking a deep breath and climbing out of her car. She demanded to see the service manager.

  ‘A hunting accident,’ she told him with an arrogant flick of her fingers. ‘My boyfriend. He’s a jerk.’

  He surveyed the blown-out window and bullet hole in the rear wing without expression.

  ‘It’ll need valeting,’ she added. ‘His friend bled all over the back seat on the way to hospital.’

  His face still held no expression. ‘We’ll need it for a few days.’

  ‘I want a perfect job. He’s paying.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She wasn’t looking at him but she felt his eyes slip past her coat and latch on to her breasts, her waist. She gave him a small, practised smile, the one she used when she wanted a man to feel as though they shared a secret, that she thought he was special, to keep him on side. He flushed. Good boy. He’d make sure of a top job.

  Milena let
him order a taxi for her. She felt better now she was out of the blood-soaked car. The bitter air helped clear her head. A nugget of hope edged into her mind. What if it hadn’t been Edik who’d arranged the shooting? What if it was someone else? She mulled this over for a while and eventually decided she’d go to Edik and confess everything. He’d know what to do, and if he had arranged the shooting, surely he’d reward her for trying to help Katya in all innocence, as well as being honest?

  She decided to wear her primrose silk dress, his favourite, and the vintage white-gold earrings he’d bought her in the summer. But first she needed a bath, to wash off the stench of fear that clung to her.

  The taxi dropped her off outside their apartment, and she was walking to the front door, keys in her hand and still planning what to say to Edik, when two strong arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her off the ground. She took a breath to scream but another man suddenly appeared and before she could move, punched her straight in the face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ‘Mummy?’ Aimee whispered. ‘Are you awake?’

  Jenny heard her daughter through the fog of sleep. ‘Not really,’ she mumbled. She just needed another twenty minutes or so. That was all.

  ‘Can I watch cartoons?’

  Normally she didn’t like Aimee watching junk TV, but after Dan letting them down yesterday she thought Aimee could do with a bit of a treat. ‘Sure.’

  She didn’t hear Aimee leave but the TV blared downstairs briefly before the volume was hurriedly turned down. Jenny closed her eyes.

  The next she knew, sunlight was flooding the room. She blinked a couple of times, surprised, before she took in the time. Ten o’clock! She hadn’t slept in for as long as she could remember. Was it because she was pregnant? She didn’t think she’d ever overslept when she was carrying Aimee but for some reason this baby took more energy out of her than Aimee had. She remembered Luke had had the same effect. Was it really going to be a boy? When she’d got the test results back she’d been told so, but she’d been sceptical. How could they be so definite so soon?