by Faye Brann
‘Matisse thought you were dead, remember,’ Vicky said. ‘He must have found out some other way.’
‘I should have seen this coming.’
‘Yes, well now we know he knows, it changes things a little. We need to get you off this boat and away from danger.’ She spoke into her brooch. ‘Tariq, if you’re getting this, we need to figure out an extraction plan for Anatoli—’ She paused, feeling a slight vibration under her feet.
‘We’re moving!’ Anatoli sounded panicked. ‘What’s going on?’
The landscape in front of them was shifting as the boat backed out of its mooring spot. ‘We’re headed out to sea,’ Vicky said. ‘Don’t worry. Tariq’s got this. We have boats waiting to intercept. All we have to do is—’
‘I decided we should have dinner somewhere else, after all,’ Sacha said, coming back up from the lower deck and heading towards the hot tub. ‘Come back here everyone, sit and enjoy the view.’
With no choice but to shelve the conversation, Vicky and Anatoli got up from the bar and joined Sacha, Chris, William, and Helena. Matisse was still nowhere in sight as the yacht powered out of the marina. It took a wide sweep to the right, around the top of the Palm, as the guests sipped on their drinks and took in the view.
‘This is quite something,’ William said.
‘I hope it doesn’t get too choppy,’ Helena gripped on to the edges of the sofa until her knuckles were white.
‘It’s just a few little waves,’ Sacha said. He spoke into a walkie-talkie and the yacht pulled to a graceful halt on the far side of the Palm. The city stretched out in front of them; to their right, the Palm and the high-rise blocks of Dubai Marina, to the left, the financial city centre and the Burj Khalifa, stretching high into the clear starry sky. The Burj Al Arab was directly in front of them, the sail-shaped hotel lit up in greens, reds, yellows, and purples and the strange little sky restaurant sticking out like mission control at the very top.
‘I wonder why people eat there at night,’ William said, looking up at it. ‘Absolutely nothing to see except the dark of the ocean. Worst view in Dubai.’
‘But the best hotel, eh, Anatoli?’ Sacha gave a dirty laugh. ‘Aha! Here’s the missing piece of the puzzle. How are you feeling, my dear?’
Matisse picked her way up the stairs and perched on the corner of the sofa next to Sacha. She looked like she’d been crying.
‘I just realised,’ he continued, ‘that the last time you and Anatoli saw each other must have been in this very hotel.’ Sacha put his arm around her, looking every inch like a spider about to snare its prey. ‘In fact,’ he said, ‘I’ve asked the captain to stop here, so we can have dinner looking at the wonderful place where all the magic happened. We can relive the old times while we eat.’ He moved his arm and patted Matisse’s backside a little too hard, before turning to the rest of his guests. ‘Let’s get some more champagne while we drop anchor.’
He clicked his fingers. Four waiters appeared with champagne and trays of canapés. Vicky got up and walked past them towards the stairs, grabbing a smoked salmon blini as she went.
‘Where are you off to, Vicky?’ she could hear the desperation in Matisse’s voice.
‘I just want to get some photos.’ Vicky stopped and faced them all. ‘In fact, why don’t I get one of you all before we all get too drunk and fat. Say cheese!’
‘Ah, this is the life,’ William said, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere all around him. ‘Cheers, everyone.’
There was a clink of glasses and a pause in conversation while they all took a glug on their fizz. Vicky backed away from the group again and pretended to be photographing the view.
‘It’s a shame the children didn’t come after all.’ Sacha lit a cigar and took a puff. ‘It would have been nice to have them here. I don’t believe Anatoli has yet had the pleasure of meeting his son.’
William looked confused. The remaining colour drained from Matisse’s face.
‘Sacha, now is not the time—’
‘Oh, now is exactly the time,’ Sacha said. He got his phone out and turned it around to show everyone a close-up photo of Dmitri from the Christmas concert. ‘Remind you of anyone? It’s not difficult to see once you’ve got the bastard right in front of you.’
Helena gasped out loud, while William muttered, ‘Good God.’ Sacha was right: when you saw an image of both next to each other, the resemblance between Anatoli and Dmitri was unmistakable.
‘Shall we give him a quick call, so his daddy can say goodnight?’
‘Sacha, stop—’ Matisse stood up and Sacha squared off against her, his face boring into hers while he waved his phone around in his hand. Vicky took the moment to drop down the stairs and hide from sight, where the conversation continued above her.
‘Oh, you don’t want that, Matisse, for your son to finally know the truth of who he is?’
‘How did you know?’
‘You keep a door locked, I know you are hiding something behind it. When I first found the photos of you and your lover—’ he spat the words out and spittle landed on Matisse’s face— ‘my first instinct was to confront you there and then.’
‘So why didn’t you?’
‘Because I had other plans for you. I didn’t want to just leave and have some messy divorce and half my money gone out to you and your bastard son because a judge said so. I wanted to be able to disappear completely, with everything, and leave you with nothing.’ He waved a passport in the air. ‘So that’s exactly what I’m intending to do.’
‘What about me?’
‘Anatoli.’ Sacha smiled. ‘Yes. What about you? I needed you to finish this deal, of course. I figured I could leave it to my clients to put a bullet in your head when you’d outlived your usefulness, but they fucked up. And then, I thought, what a wonderful opportunity. I can get both traitors in the same place, and have the satisfaction of seeing their faces when they realise they are both completely fucked. And better still, let them play it out in front of their son.’ He hit a button on his phone.
Matisse lunged for the phone. ‘Do not call him, Sacha. I am warning you, if you do, I swear I will—’
‘You will what? Tell him how you slept with someone else and covered it up so I’d never find out?’
‘Maybe I will tell him how the pig I am married to pretended to have killed his father before he was even born.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t pretence, believe me. My people made a mistake, they got the wrong man. Do you think I would have let Anatoli live if I’d known it was him? Do you think I will let him live now?’
Someone – Matisse or Helena – gasped, and Vicky heard the familiar click of a gun cocking. Then another one. Then another one.
‘Tariq, you need to get on board now,’ she whispered, fishing the gun out of her handbag.
Sacha spoke again. ‘Phones. Put your phones in this bowl, all of you and move to the back of the boat.’
‘What do you want from us?’ Helena sounded terrified.
Anatoli’s voice sounded shaky too. ‘Sacha, it’s me you have the problem with. Just let the rest of them go. They didn’t do anything, they—’
‘Where’s Victoria?’ Sacha said.
‘Who?’ Another man, one of the crew, spoke up.
‘The other woman. She’s not here. Go and find her; and watch yourself. She’s more trouble than she looks.’
Vicky moved to hide behind the door of the living room. She crouched low, by the curtains, and scrambled in her bag. A gun would alert the remaining crew to her position and she didn’t want that. Thank God she had been furnished with a veritable arsenal of tools. She found what she was looking for just as the barman who’d served her the water earlier appeared. He had a gun tucked into the waistband of his trousers and was reaching for it when Vicky jumped on him from behind with a super-human speed she didn’t know she was still capable of. As he struggled against her, she pulled his arm up his back and jabbed him in the neck with a stun gun. The barman wobbled for a
moment until he fell forward and stopped moving.
‘One crew member down. I’m fine.’ She hoped Tariq could still hear her. She tucked her stun gun back into her bag and, with some effort, dragged her would-be assailant behind the sofa before cable tying his wrists and ankles. She was knackered, and sweating, and wishing she still had her combat pants when she felt the boat lurch. They were on the move again, faster this time. She made her way to the deck outside and stood in the shadows, trying to catch a hint of what was going on upstairs. Minus the one she had just knocked out, and assuming the other waiters were armed, that left four of them, plus Sacha and the captain, and the kitchen staff.
‘Where are we going?’ Chris spoke loudly, and Vicky guessed he was hoping she could still hear him. Which she could, just about. The wind was in their favour.
‘We’re taking a little ride to international waters,’ Sacha said. ‘I need a bit of privacy to deal with my friend Anatoli, and my ride will be waiting for me after, to take me on to a new life.’
‘I knew it,’ Matisse said. ‘Where is it you’re going to? Iran? Moscow?’
Sacha laughed. ‘If I tell you I’ll have to kill you,’ he said. ‘And I wouldn’t want to leave Dmitri an orphan. He’s a good kid, even if he’s not mine.’
‘Listen, Sacha, old chap, my wife’s really not looking all that well,’ piped up William. ‘And I’ll be honest, the guns are making me a little bit nervous.’
‘You have no reason to be nervous,’ Sacha said. ‘As long as you sit still and don’t do anything stupid. But, William, I know already that you are not the kind of man to make any grand gestures. You do not have the balls.’
Vicky heard Matisse mutter something but couldn’t catch what she said.
‘What did you say?’
‘I said, he has plenty of balls from what I could tell.’ Matisse spat the words out, sounding less nervous than before.
‘Are you blushing, William? Tell me that she didn’t fuck you as well?’
‘William?’ Helen’s voice was raised now, hysterical.
‘No, of course not,’ William blustered. ‘I mean, she’s an attractive lady, but I could never – would never—’
‘See, Anatoli? That’s a real friend,’ Sacha said. There was a pause. ‘Where is Victoria?’
‘She’s probably being held prisoner by that crew member you sent down after her, you bastard,’ Chris said.
‘Shut up.’ Vicky heard a thump and Chris groaned. ‘Go and make sure she’s secure,’ Sacha said, presumably ordering a second gunman down the stairs.
Vicky hid behind the treads as a pair of heavy feet came down them. As the gunman rounded the corner, she picked up a small fire extinguisher from the mounted collection next to her and bashed him over the head with it. He crumpled to the floor, onto a pile of beach towels, making barely a sound. Vicky took his gun and placed it on the tread of the stair nearest to her, then lifted a couple more cable ties out from her bag and fastened them about his wrists and legs, finishing the job with a large piece of gaffer tape to the mouth. She rolled him out of the way of the staircase, then piled all the towels on top of him so that he couldn’t be seen. Two down, three to go.
She was just about to go back up the stairs to see what the situation was up there when she saw movement from inside the boat. She grabbed the gun from the stair and, arms outstretched, waited.
Two men came out of the door, armed. The kitchen hands.
‘Vicky! Don’t shoot!’
It was Tariq and Jacob. She released her grip on the gun and tucked it into the back of her trousers. ‘Christ,’ she whispered, ‘I nearly shot you. Things are getting heated up there. I guess you dealt with the kitchen staff.’
‘It got a bit heated down there too,’ Tariq grimaced. ‘So, what’s the deal?’
‘Three crew remain upstairs, all armed, plus Kozlovsky.’ She lifted the towels to reveal the gunman and nodded towards the inside of the boat. ‘There’s another one in there. We have to move quickly. Sacha’s going to know something’s up when I don’t reappear.’
‘We’re still headed out to sea.’ Tariq motioned to Jacob. ‘Get up to the deck and stop the boat.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Jacob disappeared immediately into the darkness.
‘Let’s put this to bed,’ Tariq said. ‘Come on.’
‘We can use the bar as cover.’ Vicky took her gun from her handbag and left the bag on the floor. Both poised to fire, she and Tariq crept up the stairs.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Vicky risked a peek to assess the situation and immediately wished she hadn’t.
One of the crew was pointing his gun at Chris, whose head was bleeding from the knock he’d been given. He looked pale and frightened. She nearly cried out but forced the noise back inside her. She’d made a promise that they wouldn’t be in any danger and now she had to get Chris out of harm’s way; getting emotional wouldn’t help.
Taking a deep breath, she quickly scanned the rest of the group. A second gunman had his weapon trained on Matisse, and a third held William and Helena. Sacha was holding a knife to Anatoli’s throat.
‘Friends. We were friends, you bastard. I help you to build your business, I put my trust in you, I paid you good money … I thought they’d kill you at the Saudi border, then you wouldn’t be my problem anymore, but you are like the cockroach. So, what will you do once I am gone? Screw my wife again when I’m far away and you think it’s safe? No, no, no. I do not think so.’
Vicky felt the boat slowing down. Jacob must have taken control of the helm, which meant that Sacha and the three gunmen they had eyes on were the only ones left. She gripped her gun and braced herself.
Sacha didn’t seem to have noticed the drop in the wind, although a glance between Anatoli and Chris suggested they might have.
‘Just get it over with, Sacha,’ Anatoli said. ‘I am not afraid to die.’
‘Don’t talk shit, Anatoli,’ Sacha said. ‘I can feel you shaking.’
Tariq motioned to Vicky and they made their way to the two pillars that stood either side of the bar, flattening themselves so as not to be seen. Vicky hoped her arse wasn’t sticking out too much.
Matisse cleared her throat. ‘Sacha?’
‘Oh, she speaks at last. What’s the matter, my Zolotse? Scared I’m going to hurt your pretty boy lover?’
Matisse addressed Sacha in a cool, collected voice, the one Vicky remembered from the bar after paintballing, before they became friends.
‘I think you should let him go.’
‘I’m sure you do. But I’ve got no intention of doing that. Certainly not for you.’
‘If you let him go now, you can have your money back.’
Tariq looked over at Vicky, who gave a small shrug. She had no idea what Matisse was talking about. Neither did Sacha, obviously. He loosened his grip on Anatoli slightly and gave Matisse his full attention. ‘What?’
‘I said, if you let him go, you can have your money back.’
‘What money? If you mean the house, it’s yours, I can’t be bothered to go through the effort of getting you out of it. Although when I found those photos of you and your lover-boy over here, I thought about it.’
‘Oh, I don’t mean the house; it goes without saying that is mine. No, I’m talking about the money that’s busy being transferred out of your many accounts and as we speak.’
‘You’re bullshitting me.’
‘Oh I’m not. Right at this minute, every single penny you ever made from your crooked “transactions” is being wired to the National Crime Agency. Isn’t it, William?’
Vicky adjusted herself behind the pillar. She had a clear line of sight to Sacha now, and could see he had lowered the knife away from Anatoli and was pointing it at Matisse, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and anger.
Matisse continued, supremely confident. ‘You see, I had plans of my own, Sacha. Your dear friend William didn’t take much persuading when I asked him to help me. I think maybe he re
alised it was better to be on the right side of the law. Or he liked my white bikini.’ Sacha snarled, and William whimpered. Matisse continued, undaunted. ‘Your money, from this deal, and all the other little deals you’ve done over the years, is currently with the authorities. I planned on letting you find that out once you were gone already, but you’ve forced me to reveal my hand a little early. No matter. At least I get the pleasure of watching your face when I tell you of the gloriously legitimate millions William has very kindly wired to me. I’m pretty sure I have enough to get by.’
Sacha let go of Anatoli and lunged for Matisse.
‘You little bitch—’
Vicky saw Tariq signal her, but she was already out from behind the pillar.
‘Freeze! Don’t move!’
The gunman holding Chris released him and took a shot at Vicky. He didn’t manage more than a single badly aimed round, though, as Tariq opened fire in return. Vicky watched the gunman recoil in pain as the first bullet glanced off his arm. A second shot to his leg brought him down to the ground. Not a fatal shot, but enough to keep him down.
‘Chris! Run!’
Chris took flight as Tariq fired at the second gunman holding Matisse. Confident of Tariq’s aim, Vicky spun to aim squarely at the gunman holding William and Helena, who was, in light of everything that had just happened in the last five seconds, looking very unsure of what to do next. Vicky used his lack of a decision to make a snappy one of her own.
‘Get down!’ she shouted at William and Helena, and then she fired. It wasn’t the cleanest hit she’d ever made, but it was enough. The gunman staggered back clutching his shoulder, dropped his gun, and fell over the side with a loud splash. The water around them lit up like a Special Forces Christmas as Tariq shouted into his comms. ‘Suspect overboard. Get a recovery team in the water, now!’
Vicky turned her attention back to the deck as Special Forces went to work in the water. William and Helena were clinging onto each other for dear life, Helena looking like she really was going to throw up any second. Matisse was a shade paler than usual. Anatoli had picked up one of the guns from the deck, although he didn’t look like he knew how to use it. Sacha and Chris were nowhere to be seen.