by John Connor
‘You wait here,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘Wait here until I come back.’
She nodded frantically. Should she wish him luck or something? Should that be part of the act? It didn’t matter, because he was already getting out, already popping the boot, taking out the gun. It wasn’t even in a bag. He was a complete idiot. Crossing the road in full view with a gun.
An idiot, but not incapable of harm. He had been a soldier at some point, a paratrooper, he’d even been given a medal for doing something brutal, somewhere – possibly in the Falklands. He wouldn’t speak about it. But he knew how to shoot. He might kill Dima. Dima would be unarmed. Freddie was an idiot, but he was cunning. The way he had handled the police, to get them off Sara – that had been very assured. As if he had been concerned only for Sara’s safety. She couldn’t assume Dima and Max could handle him. It might be Freddie who walked out alive.
She watched him run into the yard. Wait for him? She should just drive off, leave them all to it. But she couldn’t. Freddie she could ignore, and Max. But Sara? Could she do this to Sara? She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to. She was realising that only now. It wasn’t the plan. And Dima – she would never get away from him. To cross him was insane. She took her phone out, her hands trembling. She could see Freddie trying to open the doors to Dima’s car. She assumed it was Dima’s car. She got his number up. She would have to warn him. She couldn’t let it happen like this. Warn him, then drive off. Get Sasha, get to the airport. Get away while it happened. Back to Russia without any of their money. She had some savings, her own money. That would have to do. She had to protect Sasha, get away from all this, start again. She didn’t want these people coming between them.
She started the engine. Freddie was running into the place now, disappearing into the rows of containers. It would take him a while. The place was massive. Maybe he would never find them. But she couldn’t take the chance. Dima would find her, wherever she was in the world, eventually he would find her. If she crossed him and he lived, he would get her. Get her, get Sasha. So she had to call him, warn him now. Tell him – lie to him – that Freddie knew her role, that he had monitored her phones, that he knew everything, that she had fled in fear of him, that he was coming here to kill right now. Warn him and then get out.
52
When the banging started Sara was concentrating on how she could get the shackle off her ankle. The crocodile clip was still lying there, just past the metal bench, where he’d kicked it. She couldn’t reach it now, so she had to get the shackle off instead. She had begged through tears to use a toilet, to see if that would do it. But that only led to him giving her a bucket and some paper, and turning his back. ‘I do the same,’ he said. ‘Now’s not the time for delicacy.’
Her tears bothered him, though, made him say reassuring things, make promises, give her more food, or water. She had some leverage because he didn’t want noise, she thought. Maybe no one could hear from outside, as he claimed – though she had noticed that the entire floor of the container was covered with thick rubberised matting, presumably to muffle any sound – but the noise still disturbed him. When he couldn’t stop her he didn’t start screaming at her or lashing out, he just sat at the bench with his head in his hands.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t used his mobile yet. She assumed he would have to, at some point, that he would speak in Russian and she would understand. Unless he went outside to speak. He hadn’t been out at all yet. If he went out it wouldn’t help her much – the shackle chain was so short she couldn’t even reach as far as the container walls – but she still hoped he would go, leave her alone for a moment to think clearly.
He was on his feet as soon as the banging started. She didn’t know what it was, but he obviously did. He produced a gun from behind the bench and pulled the slide back, cocking it. It looked like the same sort of thing he had been holding back on the island when she had shot his hand. He was using the other hand now. He didn’t point it at her. Instead, he padded to the far end of the container and started sliding the bolts across the door. Now she could hear someone shouting something outside. The door swung open and light flooded in. She had to squint. She heard him talking, then saw him moving forward, into the door frame. Her eyes started to adjust, but all she could see outside was the sides of more shipping containers, like the one she was in. She kept perfectly still, listening hard.
Someone was saying things to him in Russian, talking very loudly. Her head was clearer now and she got some of it – something about problems and a change of plan. When he replied she realised he was looking down, speaking to someone below him. Their container must be on top of something, raised off the ground. She wondered how he had got her up here. He would have needed help, she thought. She had been out cold, could recall nothing of the journey.
She understood all of his reply, perfectly. ‘Arisha has to call,’ he said. ‘We stay here until she calls.’
Vostrikova, he meant. What did she have to do with him? But that was right, she thought – she had seen him with her at some point.
‘Arisha told me she would call you,’ the other voice said, still in Russian. ‘She should already have called …’
‘She hasn’t called. I’ve heard nothing …’
‘You take your instructions from me, not her …’
‘Everything I’ve done on this I’ve had the instructions from her. You know that. I need to know what she thinks. This isn’t right …’
‘It’s a waste of time, Max. Do as I say. It’s no longer worth the risk …’
‘Why? Because of him?’
‘Not just him. You don’t know the detail. It’s not worth the risk to my interests. It’s too risky now. That’s my decision, my judgement …’
‘So you’ve done some deal with him. I understand that. But where does that leave me? I need to know the details. Where does it leave Arisha? Does she know anything about this?’
‘She knows everything. I told you – she will be here soon. But I told her to call you also. Was your phone off? Maybe the reception in there is bad. Check. See if she has called you …’
‘No one has called. And I don’t like it. What does your deal say about Arisha and me?’
‘Nothing. There’s no need. The deal is simple. We just call it off and we all walk away …’
‘Just like that? But she has seen me. She can identify me. And now he has seen me too. You should not have brought him here.’
Who were they referring to? she wondered.
‘He has seen me as well,’ the other said. ‘It doesn’t matter. He knows the situation. He knows what will happen. He can be trusted …’
‘But you made no deal with her. Can she be trusted? I don’t think so. This is sloppy, Dimitri Alexandrovich, sloppy and unusual. It’s not how I would handle it …’
‘It doesn’t matter how you would handle it. You are being impertinent …’
‘I’m sorry. But I can’t do it. I need to hear from Arisha. Ring her. Tell her that …’
‘You ring her.’
‘I have my hands full …’
Suddenly the argument was interrupted by another voice, shouting in English. ‘Is Sara in there? I want to see her. This goes no farther unless I see her. Right now.’ Tom. It was Tom. She felt her heart jump with sudden hope, some of the argument between the other two now making sense. Now she knew who they had been talking about. She was on the point of shouting to him, but just caught herself. The man – Max – was looking back at her.
‘I want to see her,’ Tom shouted again. ‘If you’ve hurt her in any way this is all off …’
‘You see,’ Max said in Russian. ‘You think you can trust him? He will see her and go crazy …’
‘She is not hurt, though,’ the other man said – the one Max had called Dimitri Alexandrovich.
‘She is cut,’ Max replied calmly. ‘Where I took out the transmitter … there is blood on her …’
‘It’s nothing. Let him come up and se
e her …’
‘No one comes up here until I’ve heard from Arisha …’
‘Why? Don’t be an idiot, Max. What are you going to do if you think I’m wrong? Shoot everyone? Don’t be fucking mad …’
‘No one comes up here. Contact Arisha. If I hear it from her – that we are safe, both of us – then I will do what you want. I’m sorry, Dimitri Alexandrovich. I have been with you many years, but this is different. I am exposed here …’
‘You have my word …’
‘And I know your word is good. But I can’t abandon Arisha. Call her …’
‘I’m walking,’ Tom shouted. ‘I’m going back. It’s off. I don’t like it …’
‘No, wait!’ It was the one called Dimitri, that she couldn’t see, who replied. ‘Wait a moment. Everything will be cool. Wait! Maxim Fedorovich, get her to shout or something. Get her to shout to him that she is OK …’
Max turned back to her and spoke in English; ‘Shout that you are OK. Now.’
She shrunk back and curled into a ball. It was a gamble. But it worked – he didn’t ask again.
‘Or bring her forward so he can see her,’ Dimitri yelled. ‘Do that, then I’ll call Arisha. She should be here soon anyway. Bring her forward so he waits until she gets here. Please.’
‘I can stop him leaving. I can make sure he waits.’
‘Not without shooting him, or coming down, so don’t be stupid. Just show him the fucking girl, then we’ll get Arisha here.’
Max turned back suddenly, away from the door, and strode over to her, one hand digging in his pocket. He looked very nervous now. He got a key out and his hand was shaking badly. ‘Any fucking around and I will kill you,’ he whispered. ‘You understand?’
She nodded her head frantically, like a terrified little useless girl, but her heart was racing, her mind supercharged with adrenalin. Now she would be able to act. The shackle was coming off. She watched him unlock it with difficulty, then her foot was out. There was a moment when she thought she might kick him right then, take her chances, but the gun was in her belly immediately and he was dragging her roughly to her feet. He marched her very quickly to the front – before she could even think about it – and then held her a little back from the entrance. She heard someone gasp outside, looked down, saw two men there, about ten to fifteen feet away, below her – Tom and someone she didn’t know. Tom was speaking to her, his face etched with distress as he looked at her. Then he was screaming at the other man, the one beside him.
‘She is completely unhurt,’ Max shouted down, in English. ‘She is alive and well …’ She realised from his stance and his grip on her that he was going to march her back, straight away, shackle her again. She couldn’t let that happen. But right at that moment the one called Dimitri – a short, squat, older man – pulled a mobile from a pocket and held it up. ‘It’s Arisha, Max,’ he shouted with obvious relief. ‘She’s calling now. Wait!’
He put the phone to his ear and started to speak to her in Russian, then shut up suddenly. At exactly the same time Sara heard the banging again, the same banging they had heard from inside. She knew now it must be the noise made by someone walking across the tops of the hollow containers. It meant someone was coming, someone else.
‘Who is coming?’ Max shouted. She could feel his body tightening with fear. ‘Who is it? Is that Arisha? Who is it?’
But Dimitri had closed the phone, his face suddenly pale. He started to walk quickly back to the edge of the area he was standing on. Tom was shouting some questions now, and Max had tightened his grip on Sara’s shoulder so that his splinted fingers were digging into her, hurting. Tom was asking her if she was OK, Dimitri was shouting something she couldn’t catch, in Russian. They were about ten feet below her and on the other side of a six-foot gap between stacked shipping containers. But the containers they were standing on, close against each other to make a kind of platform, were themselves piled on others and surrounded by even higher piles of the rusting metal boxes. Dimitri ran to the farthest edge of the platform, where there was a space at their level and the top of a ladder showing, but even as he got there a figure appeared to the side of them all, surprising everybody. He hadn’t come from the ladder Dimitri was heading for – he was on the roof of one of the higher containers. She looked up in shock.
It was her father, with a gun. He shouted down at them all and pointed the gun at the one called Dimitri. She thought he was going to just shoot him. There was a split second of stillness, everyone waiting for the shot, then Max spun round to bring his gun up. Dimitri shouted a warning. Tom started screaming something, his hands in the air. Max shifted his grip and pulled her brutally in front of him, holding the gun to her head. His damaged arm was round her neck now.
53
The gun was a shotgun, pointed at Barsukov. But Barsukov didn’t look frightened. Tom was right behind him. Tom was frightened. He stepped sideways, quickly, out of the line of fire.
‘Who is that?’ the man shouted. ‘Is that Lomax, the idiot who was with her?’
‘He’s police, Freddie,’ Barsukov said quickly, calmly.
To the side of Tom he heard Sara yelling, speaking for the first time since the man had dragged her forward. ‘Don’t kill anyone, Daddy. They’re going to free me. Don’t shoot.’
Barsukov started to laugh. Tom edged farther away from him. The man was Freddie Eaton, he realised.
‘You fucking double-crossing fuckers!’ Eaton shouted in crisp Etonian. ‘Trying to rip me off! Fucking Russian scum!’ He looked like he was drunk, but the gun was real, and was held perfectly steady. Two barrels, one on top of the other. Barsukov held his hands up, still laughing. Sara shouted something else, something about it all being under control.
‘I’m not police,’ Tom shouted up to him. ‘I came here to free your daughter …’
Barsukov laughed again. ‘He doesn’t want her free,’ he said, loud enough for Sara to hear. ‘He paid us to kill her. That’s how all this started – he paid Maxim to kill his daughter. Arranged it through Arisha.’
There was a terrible silence. Eaton had his eyes on Barsukov, the gun held steady. ‘Shut the fuck up,’ he said.
‘He has a son,’ Barsukov said. ‘He has a son with Arisha. So you’re in the way, Sara Eaton. On Friday every penny of your mother’s fortune goes to you – didn’t you know that? Freddie would have nothing left, so he paid Max to kill you. If you’re dead it all comes to him.’
Tom looked up at the open container. Sara was still standing in front of Sidurov, held there with a gun against her head. Her face was working, the muscles moving fast, clamping her jaw. She looked stunned. She’d heard it all.
‘We thought we would just take a little cash off him instead,’ Barsukov said, speaking to Sara, but looking up at Eaton. ‘That was Arisha’s idea.’
That seemed to have an impact. Eaton started to turn crimson.
‘You didn’t know that, Freddie?’ Barsukov went on. ‘Arisha came to me with your twisted idea – to kidnap and kill your own daughter. She suggested we twist it a little ourselves. Kidnap her, tell you we had her but wouldn’t kill her unless you paid us a little sweetener …’
‘You fucking Russian bastard,’ Eaton interrupted. ‘I told you I would pay you your stupid money. I told you I would pay you …’
‘But that’s not what I wanted. I wanted to rectify an injustice. We thought we would have you pay what was yours, everything that was yours, then simply release Miss Eaton. She would inherit and you would be fucked. That was what I wanted, Freddie. Nice scheme, eh? You have to admit it’s nice.’ He looked over at Sara. ‘We didn’t want to hurt you,’ he said. ‘In fact, if it hadn’t been for our little kidnap he’d have killed you already …’
‘Shut up, Barsukov!’ Eaton shouted. ‘Shut up!’
‘Don’t be stupid, Eaton. Put the gun down. We’ve all had our fun, but it’s over now. This story between us will have to continue elsewhere. You’re not going to start killing everybody here.
That’s not you. Besides, you only have two shots.’
‘Two is enough. One for you …’
‘And one for her?’ Barsukov interjected, then laughed again.
Sidurov shouted something in Russian, but Barsukov didn’t reply.
‘You do what we agreed you would do,’ Eaton yelled at Sidurov, glancing in his direction. ‘You carry it out as we agreed and we will all walk away.’
‘But what about him?’ Barsukov asked, pointing at Tom. ‘You’d have to kill him as well now.’
‘Daddy?’ Sara said, her voice tiny. ‘Daddy. What is going on? What are you telling him to do?’
‘Shut up, Sara,’ Eaton said, not even glancing at her.
‘He wants you dead,’ Barsukov said. ‘He’s telling Max to kill you, to do what he’s already paid him to do. Don’t you understand that? Aren’t you listening? That’s what this is all about. He paid us to kill you.’
‘Daddy? Tell me it’s not true …’
‘I’m not your father,’ Eaton snapped at her, brutally. But his eyes and the gun never left Barsukov. ‘Shut her up, Sidurov,’ he yelled. ‘Do what you were paid to do!’
Tom looked up at Sara. She was starting to cry. He himself felt nothing but confusion and fear. It looked like Sidurov was experiencing the same. He had a gun to Sara’s head, but it was dropping now. He was unsure where he stood. What was the point of holding her hostage when Eaton wanted him to shoot her anyway?
‘You’re not my blood,’ Eaton grunted, his mouth twisting. ‘You’re nothing to fucking do with me. I have a son to think of, a real son. He needs to live, he needs what is rightfully his. It’s not me you should be blaming. That mad bitch who was my wife has done all this. She left us nothing. While you’re alive we get nothing. She wanted it all to go to you. All she could see was you. It’s the most monstrous, unnatural spite I’ve ever come across. It’s insane. Because nothing belongs to you. Nothing. There’s not a drop of my blood in you. I swear that I shall die before you inherit a penny. I can’t allow it. I have my son to provide for. No father would allow it.’ He moved the gun suddenly away from Barsukov, turning it towards Sara. Tom saw her flinch, saw the surprise in Sidurov’s eyes. He was right behind her. If Eaton fired now it would kill them both. Sidurov shouted again in Russian, maybe asking Barsukov what to do. He sounded desperate.