by Faye Brann
Matisse came out of the spa. ‘How was your massage? You didn’t want to wait inside for me?’
‘It was amazing. I think I blacked out from sheer joy at one point,’ Vicky said. She waggled her phone. ‘I decided to message Chris and tell him I was finished. Poor bloke is probably run ragged by now.’
‘It was very kind of him to look after all the kids while we went to the spa,’ Matisse said, as they headed to the lift. ‘Sacha would never dream of doing that for me.’
‘Chris might never do it again unless we get back to rescue him,’ Vicky said. ‘What’s the quickest way back to your room?’
‘We’ll get a golf buggy; they’ll call one for us at the front desk.’
They got in the lift and headed to reception. When the doors pinged open Vicky got out and headed straight for the main entrance. Matisse was following her, tapping something into her phone, when Vicky caught sight of Sacha with his back to her, headed towards the expensive jewellery store in the lobby. She guided Matisse around the back of a large marble pillar to avoid him seeing them and moved them quickly across the lobby to catch the cart.
‘Oh, look, there’s one already outside,’ Vicky said. ‘Come on, let’s grab it.’
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Kozlovsky, and her friend too,’ the driver said with a smile. ‘To the villa, I assume?’
‘Yes, please,’ Matisse said, still busy with her phone. ‘Sorry – I’ll be done in a minute. I just needed to send a couple of messages.’
‘No problem.’
‘Everyone ready? Hold tight.’ The driver hared off towards the Kozlovsky’s villa. As they pulled into the parking bay, he gave a quick wave to a man in a hat who was sitting under the shade of a palm tree in front of the opposite villa. It was Jacob. God, Tariq hadn’t lied about the twenty-four-hour cover; his people were everywhere.
*
The kids – Ollie, Dmitri, Evie and James – were all splashing about with Chris in the pool at the Kozlovsky villa, the warm Gulf waters lapping on the shore behind them. The afternoon sun was weak and disappearing at a rate of knots, but they didn’t show any signs of getting out.
‘You okay?’ she called to Chris.
‘Oh hi! Yes, never better,’ he replied, splashing Evie and Dmitri with a wave of water. ‘You?’
‘The spa was perfect – just what I needed,’ she said, hoping Chris would get the message that everything was okay.
Chris picked up James and bombed him into the water while the others screamed with delight. He shivered a little. ‘It might be time to go soon. It’s getting pretty chilly.’
‘Kids, you heard your dad,’ Vicky said. ‘A few more minutes and then it’s time to get out.’
The kids all ignored her and carried on playing. Out of the corner of her eye she sensed movement and turned to see Matisse sashaying her immaculate body towards the lounger next to her. She handed Vicky a cocktail and Vicky took a big slurp. It was the best drink she’d ever tasted.
‘Thanks, Matisse. And thank you for inviting us to hang out here today. This … it’s really very beautiful,’ Vicky said.
Matisse nodded. ‘Dmitri is loving the infinity pool, especially now he has friends to play with. It’s good for me, too. Sacha is spending the day working,’ she laughed, ‘but, in any case, I prefer your company.’
Matisse removed her hat and tossed her hair over her shoulders. Vicky studied her through her sunglasses. She still couldn’t quite believe Matisse was real sometimes. She was wearing the same bikini as she’d worn to the Halloween party, and it looked just as good on her in broad daylight as it had done in Becky’s dimly lit living room. Vicky shifted her kaftan to cover a few inches more of her dimpled thighs and sighed.
‘What is the matter, Vicky?’
‘Honestly, Matisse, one day you’re going to have to get old and fat like the rest of us. It’s lucky I enjoy your company because I’d hate your guts otherwise.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if it is more trouble than it is worth, to look this way. People have a very strange perception of you when you are attractive, as though you may not have any brains, or any feelings. Both are very untrue.’
‘Well, I don’t think of you that way,’ Vicky said.
‘Non, but you did,’ Matisse replied, and Vicky flushed in shame, knowing her friend was right. And they were friends now, she realised. No matter what differences and secrets lay between them.
‘Well they say you should never judge a book by its cover, but it’s true, people do it all the time,’ Vicky said. ‘I mean, look at me; I look like a slightly overfed housewife who baked too many cakes for the PTA.’ She wished she could tell Matisse the whole truth. Maybe once it was all over, she would. ‘I hate that people think that about me, that there’s nothing more to me than that,’ she continued. ‘William, for example, I know he’s Sacha’s friend, but he was such an arsehole. He always dominated everyone when he was on the PTA. Some of that was being a man, and a misogynistic one at that, but I think a big part of it was that he had a job and was surrounded by stay-at-home parents, and that somehow gave him a sense of superiority that I hated. And it wasn’t even that he put himself at the top of the ladder; sometimes, it was more that I hated being judged by what he saw, not what I knew about myself.’
‘This is exactly what I mean, Vicky,’ Matisse said. ‘Even my own husband cannot see beyond what is in front of him. He cannot see that there is more to me than this body, or these good looks; he cannot perceive that I may have grown and changed and learnt something in the many years since we met. One day he will regret that he didn’t look a little closer.’
‘Matisse … I may be way off base here, and you can tell me to mind my own business … but have you ever thought you might be better off without Sacha? You seem so unhappy.’
‘Ah non, in fact I am very happy at the moment,’ Matisse said, smiling and stretching her body along the length of the sunbed like a cat on a carpet. ‘I was not, it is true, but right at this moment, I am feeling extremely content—’ she pronounced it the French way, ‘—and for once it is my husband who has made me feel this way.’
‘How come?’
‘Sacha has been working on a very big deal, Vicky. I don’t know what it is, but I do know that it will make him very rich. Too rich. When it is done, he is going to—’
Sacha poked his head out of the patio doors.
‘Ah, you are back,’ Matisse looked uncomfortable, but Sacha seemed oblivious to what she’d been saying. ‘Where have you been? I thought you were still in the room on your phone, but when I went to find you, you were gone.’ She sniffed the air. ‘You smell of vodka.’
‘I had a drink and went to Reception to make some arrangements for tomorrow night. I just closed my deal … I thought a little celebration was in order.’
Matisse looked at him suspiciously. ‘What kind of celebration?’ she said.
‘The surprise kind.’
‘We’re having a surprise?’ Dmitri said, from the pool. Kids and their bat ears. You could ask them to get their shoes on for school a hundred times and they’d never hear you – mention the word ‘surprise’ one time and they’re like a dog straining at the leash after hearing ‘walkies’.
‘Yes, Dmitri, that’s right; we’re going to have a surprise party tomorrow night.’
‘Can Evie come?’
Chris stood in the pool and looked anxiously towards Vicky. ‘Well I’m not sure if that’s—’
‘Well, we’d be delighted if you could all come,’ Matisse said. ‘Right, darling?’
Sacha extended his arms out to encompass her entire family. ‘Of course, you are all more than welcome.’
There was no way their children would be going to this particular party. Vicky thought quickly about an attractive alternative.
‘How about you kids have your own thing – if that’s okay with you, of course,’ she offered, looking in Matisse’s direction. ‘You can do a big sleepover at our hotel room, we’ll get a sitter, and then
us adults can have a good time without worrying about looking after you all.’
‘Good idea,’ Matisse said. ‘But how about they all come to our villa instead? We have the pool, and a nanny, and it is a nicer hotel than yours.’
Vicky smarted a little at the comment, and then nodded. It had been obvious from their visit today that the villa was under constant surveillance, and fully protected by some of the finest men and women on the planet. ‘Sounds good. Does that sound good, kids?’
‘You can drop the children at Reception and a nanny will bring them to the villa. Matisse and I will meet you at the hotel jetty. Come tomorrow at 7 p.m.,’ Sacha said. ‘Then we will ride by boat to Dubai Marina.’
‘Well, if it’s not an intrusion,’ Chris said, catching Vicky’s eye. She nodded imperceptibly. It would be fine. She would make sure of it.
‘We’d love to join you,’ Vicky said. ‘A celebration, whatever the reason, is always good in my book. And it’s nearly Christmas too.’
‘Oui, all the more reason.’ Matisse settled back into her lounger. Vicky did the same, and the two women chinked their glasses. ‘To our surprise celebration,’ Matisse said. ‘Whatever it may be.’
‘To surprises,’ Vicky said. She wondered who, out of them all, would be getting the biggest one.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Matisse threw a brightly coloured silk dress over her head and watched in the mirror as it clung to all the right places on its way down her torso, coming to rest finally, perfectly, perched on her breasts and her hips. The hem draped delicately around her lower thighs. She slipped on a pair of gold Manolo Blahniks and fastened a gold and diamond bracelet around her wrist. The bracelet was new: Sacha had bought it from the jewellery store inside the hotel that afternoon. She wasn’t sure why he was still buying her gifts, and he would certainly stop if he found out what she’d done, but she didn’t care. Her husband was in a celebratory mood, and that meant only the best would do, for him, for her, for everyone invited on this little jaunt of his, even though she knew he really couldn’t give a shit about any of them.
She wondered what the catch would be. There was always a catch: Sacha always found something on which to focus his aggression, even in the face of glory. But this time, she didn’t care. Whatever he had planned, it was nothing in comparison to what she’d accomplished. She’d won. She’d taken a huge amount of money from him and he didn’t even know it, and it would be too late, by the time news reached him, for him to do anything about it.
William had been so easy to intercept; he’d been won over in a matter of minutes by a few weak compliments and a trail of light fingertips. She’d accosted him months ago, at the fancy-dress party, guessing that he was as vulnerable to a beautiful woman in a white bikini as any other man she’d ever met. She had pressed herself close to him, seen his arousal plainly through his ridiculous Batman Lycra, and brushed her fingers lightly across him as she put her request forward. William had been putty in her hands.
She’d waited until now to put the plan into action. William had taken his time with setting everything up, to make certain there would be no mistakes; he’d required a little more persuading than she’d originally thought, but by the time she discovered the fake passport and realised Sacha was planning to leave her, everything was ready. Matisse put the finishing touches to her lipstick, before popping it into her bag along with her phone. The thing that would hurt him the most, was for him to realise his money was gone, right when he needed it. William was teed up to drain his accounts of everything just as Sacha was making his escape; his entire fortune was destined to disappear before he spent a penny of it.
‘One more night of playing the whore,’ she said, and turned, satisfied, towards the door.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vicky and Tariq stood outside the door of Anatoli’s apartment. His shoulders slumped when he saw them.
‘You look like shit,’ Tariq said
‘I don’t want to go,’ Anatoli replied. ‘I’m done.’
He was sweaty and pale, and Vicky could see the strain of the past twenty-four hours had been too much. She put out her hand and gently touched his bandaged arm. ‘You have to, Anatoli. I’m sorry. But this is the most important part of the whole operation. We can’t have him suspect anything is wrong.’
Ali handed him a suit wrapped in a plastic dry-cleaning bag.
‘Take a shower and freshen up,’ Tariq said. ‘A driver will be waiting to take you to the marina.’
‘Is my paperwork ready?’
Tariq reached inside his own jacket and handed him an envelope. ‘Ink is just about dry on the passport. But you have to keep your cool, Anatoli. Kozlovsky needs to be in handcuffs before you go anywhere.’
‘I’d rather you put him in handcuffs when I’m not there. Sacha’s not just prone to grand gestures, he’s prone to grand violence.’ He looked at Vicky, who was ready for the evening, dressed in white flared trousers and a halter-neck top teamed with white trainers that hid her still-bandaged toe. ‘You shouldn’t be there either.’
Vicky’s phone buzzed. ‘It’s Jonathan. Excuse me for a minute.’
Tariq nodded.
Vicky listened as Jonathan relayed the latest information. Special Forces drones were on their way to take out the trucks that held the guns. It was only a matter of minutes before they went up in smoke, along with everyone involved.
‘I’ll text you final confirmation, but you have the green light on Kozlovsky.’
‘Thanks, Jonathan.’ She hung up and spoke to Tariq and Anatoli.
‘The trucks have arrived at their final destination. We can make our move on Sacha tonight.’
Tariq checked his watch. ‘I need to go. Vicky, I have something for you too.’ He fastened a brooch to her top.
‘A wire?’
‘So we can hear what’s going on. Wherever you are, we won’t be far away. Good luck. I’ll be in touch.’
Tariq left the apartment and Vicky stood to go as well. ‘I have to go and meet Chris,’ she said to Anatoli.
‘I’m not coming. You can’t make me.’
Vicky looked at him. ‘No, we can’t. I am not going to try and force you. Last time, that didn’t end well for anyone. But there’s so much riding on tonight.’
She could see there was something more he wanted to say.
‘Matisse … I … we were—’
‘I know.’
‘I haven’t seen her in nine years.’
‘It’s going to be a big shock for you both.’
‘What do you mean?’
It was no good. She needed to rip off the plaster and tell him. ‘Matisse thinks you are dead.’
‘I know,’ he said, miserably.
‘What?’
‘I knew Sacha was onto Matisse; I’d heard him on the phone to his henchmen a few days previously. I laid a trail, led him to the wrong conclusions … that day, the last day we were together, I saw Sacha’s men coming into the hotel. They killed a man, a Russian, he was a no-good crook but still, I knew it should have been me. I was … relieved … to be alive … I wanted to protect myself and her. I didn’t dare contact her. I thought he would kill us both.’
‘You spent all of these years knowing she thought you were dead?’
‘I thought – hoped – that maybe Sacha would mention me in passing and she would know I was alive, even if we couldn’t be together.’
‘You obviously loved her very much.’
‘She loved me too. Part of me hopes she still does. It’s why I decided to help MI6 in the end. He’s an evil man, and I want him to pay for what he did. I wanted to try and reconnect with her. Ask her to be with me. But I fear it’s too late. She has a child; she’s moved on with her life. And in a few hours, I will be on my way to a new life, like I never existed in this one at all.’
‘That’s not true, Anatoli. And if you come tonight, you’ll at least get to see her.’
‘I’m afraid to see her. I’m afraid that she won’t
feel the same way as me, and that all this will have been for nothing.’
Vicky tried again. She had to get Anatoli on this boat. Without him there, Sacha would smell a rat, and the whole operation could come crashing down.
‘When I was searching their house, I found old photos of you both, hidden away. She wouldn’t have kept them if she didn’t still care.’
Anatoli shook his head. ‘It’s not enough. It doesn’t prove anything.’ He sat back down. ‘No. I will not go.’
Vicky took a deep breath. There was only one thing left to do. It was a massive break of protocol, but Jonathan and Tariq could kill her later.
‘There’s something else you need to know. About Dmitri.’
When she had told him, she sat quietly next to him while he cried. She understood. To miss out on years of making happy memories, to miss being with the person you loved and being a family together …
‘I’m sorry, Anatoli. You understand why we didn’t want to tell you. It was too emotional, too personal. We are worried enough about you as it is.’
‘I am not worried about me. I have told enough lies to Sacha already. One more hardly matters.’
‘We didn’t want you to feel vulnerable.’
‘Vulnerable? Vika, how do you think I have been feeling for the past nine years? The man I work for tried to kill me. He murders, he lies, he takes what is not his. He thrives on other people’s fear, on his strength and money and power. I have watched him crush people and kill the ones who got in his way. I chose to betray him because I was tired of being scared, and tired of feeling vulnerable. This news, that I have a son, it makes me sad, because I do not know him, and because he has grown up thinking this bastard is his flesh and blood. And because Matisse has done it all alone when we could have been together. It makes me want to kill Sacha myself, not leave it to you and your people.’