‘Orange juice would be great.’
‘Do you mind if I have a glass of wine?’
‘Not at all.’
In the sitting room, Kate put her tray on the floor in front of the gas fire and pulled across a small coffee table from alongside the sofa; she then lifted her tray on to the table and sat down cross-legged. Rafi looked down at her; she was wrapped in an old, fluffy pink dressing gown, with a nondescript towel wrapped tightly around her head – but she looked gorgeous.
Rafi sat on the sofa and felt the warmth of the fire. He tucked into the food – it tasted good. He watched Kate open a bottle of wine, fill her glass and sip at its contents.
She caught him watching her. ‘Have you ever drunk alcohol?’
‘Not really. My parents, well my mother in particular, were strict Muslims and I grew up in a teetotal household. I suppose it was at university that I decided not to drink. I saw too many people getting smashed for no good reason, which really put me off.’
The conversation switched to their journey to Cornwall. Kate was amused to find that he didn’t have a car. ‘How about I drive and you pay for the petrol…? Deal?’ asked Kate.
‘But remember I’m unemployed!’ chuckled Rafi.
‘Yes, but thankfully you have a bank balance which should tide you over for a year or three.’ She yawned. ‘Sorry, I have been surviving on catnaps for the past few days. If I stay up much longer, I won’t be able to see straight, driving down to Cornwall tomorrow.’
There was a lull in the conversation which was soon broken by Rafi. ‘Would you mind if I went and showered?’ he asked.
‘Good idea. I’ll clear up. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘More orange juice would be nice, please.’
‘I’ve put a spare towel on the chair in the bathroom. It looks old but it should be OK, I hope.’
He saw what she meant. The towel had definitely seen better days. He picked it up and was surprised to find that its shabbiness belied its softness. Definitely fit for purpose, he thought.
Rafi shed his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. His wrist still looked puffy and badly bruised. It was still an angry purply-blue colour. He’d got rid of the bandage as it had become the object of too much attention. From what he could see, his back boasted some seriously impressive bruises, but thankfully they all looked far worse than they now felt.
The shower cubicle was compact. At the third attempt he worked out how to get in and turn the water on without wetting the floor or getting dowsed in very hot or very cold water. He stood there, enjoying the warm water splashing over him. He looked around for some shampoo, washed his hair and picked up the bar of soap. It smelt of exotic eastern fragrances – very feminine. He gave himself a good scrub from head to foot, rinsed off the soap suds, turned off the shower and stepped out into a steam-filled room. He dried and walked out into a dark corridor with the towel around his waist.
He could see a small strip of light coming from under Kate’s bedroom door and headed for it. Slowly, he opened the door. Kate was sitting in front of her dressing table looking into the mirror. She turned and looked at him. Her tired, freckled face was devoid of make-up -; she still looked lovely.
He walked over to his side of the bed, shed his towel and climbed in.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said and with that the light on the dressing table went off. The room was now only lit by the small light on her bedside table. She walked over to the door, unwrapped the towel from around her head, took off her dressing gown and hung them both on the back of the door.
Rafi lay in bed spellbound. The curves on her slim body were accentuated by the soft lighting. She turned her head and caught him ogling at her naked behind.
She slowly stepped backwards, then sideways. He felt his pulse race. She had a great body.
‘Do you like?’
He was captivated. ‘Yes, very much!’ he eventually added.
‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’
Rafi watched as she climbed into bed. She turned off the light, disappeared under the duvet and came up for air with her head on his chest. The curtains were drawn but small shafts of dappled light came in around the edges from the lights outside. She slowly moved up and kissed him. ‘I’m a very lucky girl…’ Her voice trailed off as she sat up, letting the duvet slide off her shoulders. She ran her finger tips across his exposed chest. His body twitched, as inch by sensual inch she drew imaginary patterns on his torso. He gazed at her lovely face framed by a mass of silky hair.
Kate lent forward and kisses followed the lines her fingers had taken, lingering along the way at his small dark nipples. Little electric shocks raced through his body. Her fingers, meanwhile, had moved on with their gentle caresses.
Rafi was in seventh heaven. He felt her kisses gradually move back up his chest to his neck and the hollow beneath his right ear.
‘When I first laid eyes on you a week ago, in my wildest
dreams I’d never have guessed that you and I would get this close.’
Rafi awoke to the sound of light-hearted singing coming from the kitchen. Kate’s dressing gown was no longer on the back of the door. He sat up and looked around her bedroom.
The door opened quietly. Kate slowly put her head around it. ‘Oh, good, you’re awake. I wondered when you were going to come around. I’ve got a cup of black coffee for you. Thought you could do with a caffeine boost. Did you sleep well?’
Rafi smiled and nodded as she came to sit next to him.
‘I’ve finished packing. I didn’t know what I’d need so I’m travelling light; a good excuse for some shopping. And I’ve rung the Savoy and they said all our belongings are packed up and ready for collection. And some good news: MI5 have spoken to the hotel and asked for the bill to be sent to them. They left you a message: Thank you and sorry we roughed you up.’
Rafi grinned and sipped at his hot coffee. Kate leant over and gave him a kiss.
‘How long do you need to get ready?’
‘Would fifteen minutes be OK?’
‘Great. I thought that we could eat brunch on the way.’
Kate’s car was a small, old-looking, Volvo. She drove through the London traffic quickly and confidently. They arrived at the Savoy in what seemed like record time and stopped near the front door.
Rafi walked behind Kate into the crowded hotel foyer.
At the main desk they were greeted by the manager, who seemed pleased to see them.
‘I’m sorry you’re leaving us. I hope you had a pleasant stay.’
‘Every bit as good as I hoped,’ Rafi replied.
‘Your luggage is being collected as we speak and will be waiting for you at the front door. I hope you will visit us again soon; it was a pleasure to have you both here… I’m sorry, I nearly forgot – I have some messages for you.’
There were messages from Kate’s parents and from Emma and Saara sending their best wishes. None of these needed an immediate reply. The last one, though, was from Jeremy. Kate read it and passed it to Rafi.
As he read the message, Rafi felt the colour drain out of his face. Their nightmare had not ended. The terrorist from Heysham had escaped from hospital - heaven only knew what he was capable of doing, even with a broken arm and collar bone. ‘So now what?’ he said in a shocked tone.
‘Doesn’t look good, does it? We’ll speak to Jeremy in the car and take it from there.’
They said their goodbyes to the manager and put the luggage, which seemed far more than Rafi could remember, into the Volvo’s boot and across the back seat.
They turned into the traffic on the Strand and headed west towards the Hogath Roundabout and the M4.
As they drove along the raised section of the M4, Kate turned on her hands-free phone and called Jeremy. His phone went to voicemail, so she left a message. ‘Hi, Kate here. I’m on my mobile. Chat soon.’
The traffic on the motorway was surprisingly light and they made good progress out of Lo
ndon, past Heathrow and on towards Reading.
‘How about brunch?’ asked Kate.
‘Great idea,’ replied Rafi.
‘There’s a service station coming up shortly – is that alright with you?’
Rafi nodded. Baked beans and service station food, both in the space of twenty-four hours – how things were changing for him!
As Kate was pulling over towards the service station exit, her phone rang.
‘Hi, Kate,’ said Jeremy in a businesslike tone, ‘Sorry to break in on your well-earned holiday, but something has come up. Aslan Popovskaya, the terrorist we captured at Heysham, has escaped from hospital. We haven’t got a clue where he’s heading, but given all that has been going on recently he’s likely to be like a bear with a sore head. Where are you off to?’
Kate gave Jeremy the hotel details.
‘I’ll get a fax sent with his mugshot, just in case.’
Kate passed the service station, indicating to Rafi that they would stop at the next one.
There was a stony silence in the car.
‘Why would he come after us?’ Kate asked Jeremy.
‘Well, I suspect it is Rafi he’s after. Who has had their face plastered over the papers recently? And who, according to the news coverage, helped the police and messed up the terrorists’ plans, robbing them of their multibillion payout?’
‘OK, I get your line of thinking. But no one knows where we’re going – or do they?’
‘No, you’re right, but better safe than sorry.’
‘Do you have any leads on where Popovskaya might be?’
‘We have one long shot which we’re following up. Colonel Matlik and his Russian contacts have sent us details of all the other mercenaries that they have on their most wanted list. We have distributed the photos and names to all airports and ports, just in case one of them comes over to help Popovskaya. The new face recognition and gait assessment software at Heathrow airport has picked up a potential match. A brute of a man travelling on a Polish passport arrived there from Budapest an hour and a half ago. He has an uncanny resemblance to a former Chechen army officer, Radu Dranoff, and is on the list we have just received. We gave his and several other passengers’ luggage a spot check, and at the same time picked up his mobile phone number. I have a team tracking his mobile phone calls and his movements. At the moment he is on a coach heading for Oxford. I have got another call… Must go. Do please keep in contact.’
‘Will do and thanks for the call.’ Kate flicked off her phone. They sat in silence until they arrived at the service station just after Swindon.
‘Well, what a way to start our holiday!’ said Rafi who looked across at Kate’s strained face.
‘You know what our problem is?’
‘No,’ he replied.
‘You and I have become too hot a story. One sniff of us being in Cornwall and the flaming paparazzi will be all over us like locusts. Hey presto, within less than twenty-four hours the terrorists will know where we are.’
Rafi nodded. ‘Well, at least Jeremy has a lead and the new Chechen arrival is probably only here to get Popovskaya safely out of the UK.’
‘I hope you are right. Do you know what I love about you, Rafi? It’s your optimism.’ Kate leant across and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Come on, my tummy is rumbling. I need to keep my energy levels up for all the exercise we’re going to take in Cornwall.’
They chose their food in the cafeteria, Rafi pulled out his wallet and paid at the till. Then he noticed that in amongst his other banknotes was a damaged £20 note which hadn’t been there when he had last looked. Attached to it was a Post-it with a scribbled message: ‘You might like to frame this as a souvenir!’ It was signed by Jeremy. Rafi smiled to himself.
Breakfast was far better than he’d imagined. Kate tucked into a full English breakfast. He looked across at her slender frame and wondered where she managed to put all that food. She scowled as she caught him staring.
‘I wish I had your metabolism,’ he chuckled.
‘Is that why you were staring? What a disappointment – I thought you were ogling!’
The journey was uneventful but then, thirty miles from Newquay, Jeremy phoned again.
‘Hi guys!’ He sounded upbeat. ‘I’ve got some news for you. Our Chechen with the Polish passport received a phone call half an hour ago. It was from a mobile phone which we’ve traced to outside Lancaster, which is near where we had Popovskaya in a secure hospital unit. Putting two and two together we think that our two Chechen mercenaries are on their way to meet up. Thought you might like to know. I’ve sent a fax with their details to the hotel. I’ll keep you posted. Goodbye.’
It had been a one-sided phone call as Kate hadn’t been able to get a word in. Jeremy had sounded upbeat, but both Kate and Rafi felt it had been an act. She put her hand on Rafi’s knee. ‘Even if we jump to the conclusion that they are after you, at least we’ll have one, maybe two days before they’ll know where we are. Jeremy and his team will look after us; don’t worry.’
Rafi sat staring out of the window.
Kate looked subdued. ‘This is no way to start a relationship. Let’s chill out for the next couple of days and I promise you, Jeremy will keep an eye on our backs. If you want to start worrying, save it until after the paparazzi have found us. Then we’ll both be in the frame.’
Rafi looked into Kate’s eyes and at her lovely face. ‘I’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind. But at least I’ve got you with me. I agree. No worrying until our whereabouts are common knowledge.’
For the last half-hour of the journey they played a game, trying to guess what the hotel would be like. They knew it stood on its own headland and overlooked a long, sandy bay.
‘You’re a pessimist,’ concluded Rafi.
‘Yes, but with low expectations things must get better.’
‘Is that why you decided on me as your new boyfriend?’
‘Of course, how much worse could it have got? A man locked up as a suspect in a terrorism case, uncooperative and with a useless wrist to boot. Plus, smelly – no, really smelly – unkempt, and that’s just for starters.’ They laughed and the mood in the car became lighter.
In contrast, outside the weather had turned foul. They followed the signs to Fistral Beach, drove past a windswept golf club and there in front of them was the Headland Hotel, an imposing Victorian-style red brick building, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the surfers’ paradise, Fistral Bay. Its long driveway went through its own small golf course.
The strength of the wind was driving the rain horizontally. Kate drew her car up near the front door and they sat for a while looking at the heavy rain. She looked at Rafi with a grin. ‘Where did we put the overcoats?’
He smiled. ‘In the boot, of course!’
‘Will we get more soaked making a dash for the front door, or getting our coats out of the boot?’
‘I have a better idea.’ He picked up Kate’s phone and dialled a number. When he got through he asked whoever was on the other end of the line, ‘Would you by any chance have a spare umbrella or two? We’re stuck ten metres away from your front door and we…’
A friendly voice interrupted him. ‘It is rather nasty outside. I’ll get the porter to come and help you in.’
Wielding a large umbrella in high winds and driving rain was a skill that Rafi hadn’t considered until then. They were ferried one at a time into the hotel. Kate went first and Rafi followed, wet at the edges but not soaked.
He walked into the reception area. Kate was standing in front of a roaring open fire. She was beaming.
‘This is just brilliant. I think I’m going to like it here.’
To his surprise she bounced over and flung her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that was more appropriate to the privacy of one’s own room. Kate finished her show of affection and drew back, noticing that Rafi had started to blush.
‘Oops, I seem to get a bit carried away at times,’ she said to no one in particul
ar. The hotel was busy for off-season February. Rafi wondered if, like the Savoy, it had also taken more than its fair share of those left homeless.
At the reception desk they were greeted by an attentive receptionist who arranged for their luggage to be taken up to their room. Next to their key was Jeremy’s fax. It contained mug shots of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya. Rafi studied Kate’s serious face as she read it. She then passed the fax to him. The three pages of information made disconcerting reading. Popovskaya was made of stern stuff. In his fall from the scaffolding tower he had fractured his left collar bone and broken his left wrist and arm in several places. And now he and Dranoff were on the loose, most likely after them.
‘Shame that Popovskaya is right handed…’ Kate was politely interrupted by the receptionist.
‘We’ve filled up since last week. Please forgive us if the service is a little slower than normal. We’ve managed to find you a comfortable bedroom, though.’
Rafi took the key and, holding Kate’s hand walked across to the small lift. They got out on the second floor. The corridor leading to the room was spacious and newly carpeted. Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand in anticipation as they stood in front of the door. He opened it and they walked in. In front of them was a modest-sized sitting room with stunning views over the long sandy beach and the ocean. A large arrangement of flowers on the side table added to the welcoming atmosphere.
‘Where is the bed?’ asked Kate, sounding like a young girl itching to explore. ‘How about I try this door?’ she said with a bounce in her step and disappeared into the next room. ‘Rafi, look what I’ve found!’
He followed her and there in front of him was the wonderful sight of Kate lying on her back, spread eagled across a large king-sized bed, and bouncing up and down.
‘This is great! I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d tried. Nice, comfy bed – let me change that, a nice, big, comfy bed – great views and peace and quiet. Fantastic!’ Kate rolled off the bed, stood up in front of Rafi, and looked into his eyes. ‘Promise me one thing,’ she said. ‘Let’s forget the terrorists and enjoy the now. Tomorrow can look after itself. It usually does.’
LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge Page 40