Teschmaker needed no further prompting and headed down the stairs with Jane close behind him. At the bottom he glanced back at Ilya standing on the landing, feeling that he should say something, but the Russian just shrugged and turned away.
Outside sat Jane’s VW Golf. ‘Get in,’ she snapped. ‘And tell me what the fuck that was all about.’
‘I really don’t know,’ he said truthfully.
‘He knew I was bluffing.’ She looked totally perplexed. ‘Here, put this damn thing in the glove box.’ She handed him the pistol and, without another word, started the car and drove down the driveway and out onto the road, not stopping to close the gate.
‘So why did you come back?’ Teschmaker asked, just as bewildered. He checked that the safety catch was off and opened the glove box, but what little room there was was taken up by a robust-looking flashlight, so he slipped the pistol into the pocket in the side of the door.
‘Not because of you, so don’t get the wrong impression.’ She glanced at him and he could see by her expression that she was telling the truth.
‘Then why?’
‘Because the rules have changed. That bastard has my daughter.’
‘Rusak?’
‘Of course Rusak. Who the hell did you think I meant?’
‘Look, I haven’t a clue what all this is about,’ Teschmaker protested.
‘Haven’t a clue is right. Why the hell were you following me?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, her anger driving her on. ‘You know they were on to you from day one.’
‘I was just interested in finding out what had become of you. What kind of person you had turned into.’ Teschmaker knew it sounded weak. He also knew it was more complex than that, but now didn’t seem to be the right time.
‘You didn’t have to stalk me to —’
‘I wasn’t stalking you. Jesus! I know it sounds silly, but you are Oliver Sinclair’s wife and from what I could find out you keep an extremely low profile. How was I to know if you even remembered who I was?’
He stopped and stared at the road ahead. After what he had been through he was damned if he was going to justify himself to this woman.
‘Remember you! You’re the bastard that fucked up my life from day one; of course I remember you. The only reason you’re here is that I hate you marginally less than Rusak. It’s just that everything is so screwed up and now I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t know how long I can keep going and there’s nobody else to turn to . . .’
For a moment he nearly confronted her with all the questions he had about why she hated him so much, then decided that this was definitely not the right time. All he could think of was to get as far from her anger as possible.
‘Then just stop the car and let me out. Go to the police.’
‘Police! Oh, for Christ’s sake, Teschmaker, you really are stupid. I have been blackmailed, compromised and gone through hell in order to stop my father being killed or exposed and to avoid losing custody of Melanie. Oliver has photographs of me that he will give to the media if I breathe a word of this to anyone.’
‘I know, I’ve seen some of them.’
‘Yes? Well, I bet he hasn’t shown you the choice ones.’
‘But why did you go along with it? Why did you let yourself be compromised?’
She shot him a sideways glance. ‘You don’t have children, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Then how the hell do you think you can judge me?’
‘I’m not —’ Teschmaker began, but she was in full flight.
‘I could have dealt with anything — public ridicule, shame and disgrace — but I was damned if I was going to let Oliver walk away with everything. It wasn’t even the money. The bottom line was I couldn’t deal with losing my daughter and her trust. How do you think she would feel about the mother that exists in those photographs? How would she feel about a mother who’s betrayed her own father? And all the time I was pushed further and further into Grice and Oliver’s disgusting little games, thinking that if only I went along with it I’d find a way out. But instead I got deeper in the shit.’
‘And now . . . What on earth are you going to do?’
‘Not me, we. We are going to get my daughter back.’
‘You don’t really think they’ll harm her?’
‘They won’t as long as they still think there’s a chance they can get what they’re after. The problem is that once they have it, everybody else becomes superfluous.’
‘And what’s that? What are they after?’
‘Something my father knows.’
‘I meant exactly.’
‘For Christ’s sake! If I knew that I wouldn’t be in this mess.’
Teschmaker was confused. Hadn’t she been visiting her father to find out something? She must have known what they wanted. ‘You mean, you don’t even know what they are after?’
‘No. I mean, I know it’s something to do with his work . . .’ She glanced at him again. ‘You do know what he was doing?’
‘Only the bare bones. From what I’ve pieced together, he defected to the Soviets years ago and was working on their nuclear program.’
‘Yes. But it was something that happened at the end of his career. Or something that brought his career to an end — I can’t be certain which. Apparently he was working with a small team of specialists on a very secret project. From what I can gather, the other team members are all dead and Rusak thinks that my father can tell him about the project.’
‘What’s Rusak got to gain from it? I thought he was up to his neck in rackets or something.’
‘He is,’ Jane replied. They had been driving fast and already the lights of Daleborough were twinkling in the distance. ‘But whatever this project is, it must have produced something worth an absolute fortune because Rusak is desperate to get his hands on it. He told my father he would kill me if he didn’t cooperate, and told me he would make my father suffer if I didn’t convince him to give Rusak the information he wanted.’
‘I’m beginning to think that Rusak’s answer to any problem is to kill someone.’
Jane glared at him. ‘It’s no joke.’
‘I’m not joking,’ Teschmaker said flatly. ‘You never found out anything?’
‘Nothing. Believe me, I’ve spent days going over this with Dad but all I get is muddled stories of gardeners and —’
‘Bouquets and little flowers?’
‘He told you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, at least he’s consistent,’ she said bitterly.
For a couple of kilometres they drove in silence, Jane concentrating on the twisting road and Teschmaker trying to stop his mind racing in the chaos of confusion that threatened to overwhelm him. After a time he came back to their present predicament.
‘Surely you don’t think that Oliver will let Rusak harm Melanie?’
‘Oliver doesn’t know. He thinks she’s with me and Rusak has made it crystal clear that if I breathe a word to Oliver then Mel will suffer.’
‘So what do we do now?’
‘Well, I don’t think we have a hope in hell of finding where Rusak has Mel, so we have to organise a trade.’
‘Sure. And what exactly have you got to offer?’ He was too exhausted to hide the sarcasm. Jane simply ignored it.
‘We have to find out what the project was and then swap the information for Mel.’
‘Fine.’ For a moment he had thought she might have a feasible plan of action. ‘Let’s do it now and then I can get home to bed.’
That did it. Furious, Jane pulled the car to a screeching halt at the side of the road.
‘Listen, you bastard. You don’t have a choice in this. In case it hadn’t dawned on you, you are now in some of the photographs and I can’t tell you how much Oliver gloated when he got your fingerprints all over the others. One bloody slip-up and you’re there on the front pages, as a pornographer and blackmailer. I’ll go down as well, but I’ll bloody well drag you with me. If they ask, I�
�ll say that, sure, Teschmaker was the one who arranged all that sick stuff. Now spare me all the sarcastic crap and work with me.’
‘Okay,’ he surrendered, but it wasn’t good enough for Jane.
‘Okay? Is that all you have to offer?’ She glared at him.
For a fraction of a second he considered telling her that Rusak’s real agenda was for them both to end up dead, but he resisted. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m really exhausted and not thinking straight. I promise you I’ll help.’
For a moment she eyed him suspiciously, then pulled back onto the road again. ‘I’m tired too, Teschmaker. I have been for months. I want it to be over, but I can’t stop until I have Mel back. After that I don’t give a shit what happens between Oliver and me.’
‘Sure, I understand. What about your father though?’
‘I nearly brought him with us, but he’s probably better off there. They certainly won’t hurt him until they get what they’re after. We couldn’t look after him and work this out too. I’m sorry if it sounds cruel, but this is partly of his making, and Mel is my first priority.’
‘So what do we do once we get back to the city?’
‘Go to ground until we’ve worked out how the hell we’re going to tackle this. I can’t go to my house and Rusak will have his men swarming over your place.’
‘So?’
‘My partner, Sarah Norrby, is in Europe for the next six weeks. She gave me her key so that I could pop in and keep an eye on the place. It’s ideal — nice and secure and with separate bedrooms.’
The last comment struck him as unnecessary. The notion hadn’t even entered his head. Another time and in a different situation it might have, but now all he wanted was food and sleep. ‘Fine,’ he said. But he shot a glance at her. She was still angry and still attractive. No, she was beautiful. For an instant he thought he could see the young girl he remembered from years before. Jane must have sensed his train of thought.
‘I’ve changed. Changed far more than you could ever imagine, Teschmaker, and not all for the good.’
He was going to respond, but his attention was suddenly attracted by a flash of light. Someone was coming up behind them, moving fast. He swung around in time to see the red and blue lights on top of a police car switch on. The car’s headlights flashed and its siren screamed at them.
‘Shit!’ Jane hissed. ‘What the hell . . .’
She slowed down and began to pull over but the police car overtook them and continued on towards the Airport Freeway in pursuit of other quarry. ‘Christ! I hate it when they do that. For some reason I immediately think I’m guilty of something.’
Teschmaker saw she was trembling. ‘Even when you’re not.’ He laughed; not that he saw anything funny in the situation but as a reflex discharge of tension. ‘I felt the same. Why do you think we automatically assume our own guilt?’
‘Because, deep down, it’s true. We are all guilty. It’s just a matter of degree.’
‘Guilty of what?’
‘Let’s hope we never find out.’
They drove on in silence. As they entered the city Jane headed east on the Ring Road and then took the Lincoln exit. Teschmaker remembered following her around the CBD.
‘Where did you learn to drive the way you do?’
‘You mean my ducking and weaving?’ It was the first time she had smiled at him.
‘One of the first times I was on your tail you damn near gave me the slip.’
She shrugged. ‘Oliver insisted that I learn. He hired some outfit that trains drivers for government and corporate clients. You know the sort of thing — ex-SAS guys teaching wealthy types how to avoid kidnap and assassination.’ She shot him a look. ‘I guess I failed, huh?’
‘Not at all. Actually I was impressed. But it did make me more curious about you.’
Jane didn’t reply. A couple of minutes later they pulled into the car park under the newly renovated Dansen Brewery.
For decades the old factory had lain empty, except for a period during the eighties when the squatters had moved in. A fatal fire in what had been the riverside office section had put an end to the squatters. Another ten years passed before the developers moved in and turned it into a very trendy address, complete with internet cafés, bars and designer clothing outlets. Though the original plum-coloured brick facade remained, the inside was themed in lime-washed blues and yellows with raw steel and old machinery parts. ‘Industrial Chic’ the reviewers had cooed and, despite the post-industrial price tags, the units had sold out in a month. Sarah Norrby’s was on the top floor and would have had a great view of the river if the city’s building code hadn’t been flexible enough to absorb kickbacks from other developers who, despite the city’s genesis in a swamp, had bribed their way up to fifteen storeys.
‘Hope you can stand slumming,’ Jane said with heavy irony as they entered the apartment.
The vast expanse of polished Baltic pine was patched tastefully with several tribal rugs. Teschmaker wasn’t sure which tribe but he guessed that whatever the original artisans had been paid it would have been the wrong side of the decimal point on the price tag. The masks on the walls seemed to indicate that Ms Norrby was either a very extensive traveller, very wealthy, or both. Teschmaker plumped for the latter option. When it came to cultural plunder, he had to admit that her taste was exquisite.
‘No, I always feel at home in museums of folk art. Mind you, I assume you are used to living in such luxury.’
‘Money and taste were mutually exclusive in Oliver’s case.’
‘What about his house?’
‘I rest my case.’
‘But surely it wasn’t as bad on the inside?’ Teschmaker asked as she led the way through to the kitchen — a sea of stainless-steel benches and appliances.
‘Seriously gross. I told him Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt wouldn’t have been my first choice as interior decorators.’ She caught the look of disbelief on his face. ‘The place was like a bordello, right down to breast-shaped, pink toilet deodorisers.’
‘Ouch!’
‘Enough. I’m famished. I’ll open the wine. Can you do something with eggs and whatever you find in the vegetable drawer?’ She turned and peered at him. ‘I take it you can cook?’
‘One Spanish omelette coming up, madam.’
He executed a mock bow and immediately felt foolish. Fortunately Jane had turned away to open the small wine fridge.
Teschmaker knew he was running on the remnants of adrenalin. The last . . . How long had it been? Only a couple of days? It seemed far longer. The last couple of days had drained him and he was ready to crash out. But hunger was competing with his desire to switch off the world and hibernate. He took a deep breath and set about the task at hand.
Jane passed him a glass of wine and retreated to the lounge to make some phone calls. From the snippets he heard, she appeared to be ringing contacts in Moscow. She came back ten minutes later and he could tell by the look on her face that she had hit a brick wall.
‘I thought I could call in some favours,’ she explained. ‘But nobody wants to go near it. Apparently Putin has just done a big reorganisation of security and anyone working in a sensitive area has their head down.’
‘I thought there was a whole new industry in releasing files from the bad old days?’
‘There was. Past tense.’
In the end the meal and the wine were fine but they both ate mechanically, in silence. Teschmaker knew it was only partly the tiredness. Jane’s anxiety about her daughter was visible in her face and her body. She hunched over her plate, pushing at the meal with her fork.
‘Sorry,’ she said quietly as she left half the food on her plate. ‘I guess I just can’t eat.’
‘I understand.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she replied, but there was no anger in her voice, just emptiness.
She stood up. ‘I’m going to try and sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.’ She gestured to the far end of the main room. ‘There’s a bed mad
e up in there. It has an en suite. Just help yourself to the towels and things.’ She took her plate and glass over to the sink.
‘We’ll sort this out, Jane,’ Teschmaker said in an attempt at reassurance. But she just kept walking towards her bedroom. She probably didn’t believe him, he thought, but then why should she? He didn’t.
PART THREE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Teschmaker awoke to what under other circumstances would have been a glorious morning. The sun was streaming in, reflecting off the polished floors and bathing the bedroom in a golden glow. Struggling against his instinctive desire to roll over and go back to sleep, he forced himself to sit up. For a moment he rubbed at his eyes and squinted out through the windows. Reluctantly he got dressed, opened up the French doors onto the balcony that ran the length of the apartment and went out into the sunshine. The sun was already well above the buildings and between them he caught a glimpse of the sparkling waters of the Charlotte flowing away to his right. The air was soft and balmy.
A coffee and the papers would be the ideal way to spend the next hour, he thought. Then he realised he could smell coffee. He wasn’t sure if it was coming from the kitchen or one of the apartments below, so he walked along the balcony to where the double doors to the main room were latched back. He went in and found Jane dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, squeezing an orange in the kitchen.
‘Good morning, what’s for breakfast?’
She didn’t bother to look up. ‘I don’t know. What are you making?’
‘Sorry I asked,’ he replied frostily.
‘I’m not playing wife for anyone, okay?’ She stood at the bench and drained the glass of juice.
‘Fine by me.’ Teschmaker shrugged. ‘I’ll just go down to one of the cafés and get something to eat.’
‘I thought we were going to decide what to do —’
‘When I’ve had breakfast. Is there a key? I’d hate to put you to the trouble of opening the door.’ He immediately regretted saying it, knowing it was petty, but he was in no mood to keep butting heads with Jane. If she wanted to maintain the antagonism, then so be it.
‘There’s a key on a stand by the door.’
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