Tell Me A Lie

by CJ Carver

  She went back to trudging through the snow. One foot, then the other. Plod-plod-plod. But the base of her neck was tingling as if a bony finger was toying with the fine hairs there. She glanced over her shoulder and pushed back her hood to listen.

  The sound came again. The faintest buzz of a helicopter.

  Ekaterina broke into a shambling run but she was so tired she lost control of her legs and went sprawling face down. She forced herself upright. Concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other as fast as she could. She didn’t look around again. She needed every ounce of mental energy focused on walking.

  She had to get to the village.

  The engine sound gradually approached, but slowly. They were following her tracks. They didn’t want to lose them.

  Ekaterina’s head was down. All she could hear was the crunch of the snow and the brush of her snowsuit. Her breathing. She was sweating heavily. She felt sick. She kept going.

  She didn’t stop walking until one of the guards grabbed her arm, and even then she shook him off and kept going. He had to pin both her arms behind her back and haul her bodily into the air.

  ‘Come on, Ekaterina,’ he said. ‘The game’s up.’

  Her mind hummed.

  It was Nik. The youngest of the guards. He had a sweet face and soft, Spaniel eyes.

  ‘Shoot me,’ she told him.

  ‘I can’t.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve been ordered to bring you back.’

  ‘You know what he will do to me.’

  He went rigid, staring at her.

  She brought her hand up to her face. ‘He will do something worse than this. Much worse.’

  Nik’s eyes shut for a second.

  The humming became a strimmer reverberating in her skull. She thought if she moved, took another breath, she would splinter into a thousand icicles. Her mind flailed, trying to find something to say to persuade him.

  ‘Tell him I fought. I tried to stab you. You did it in self-defence . . . Shoot me in the head. The back. Anywhere . . . you can show him the evidence . . .’

  Nik shook his head. He wouldn’t meet her eye. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Please.’ She hadn’t wanted to beg, but she couldn’t help it. She fell to her knees. ‘Nik, don’t let him turn you into something you’re not. You’re a good man. Yesikov is . . . driven by something else.’

  Edik’s voice suddenly shouted behind them.

  ‘Davai, blyat, dvigaisya!’ Oi! Get a fucking move on!

  Nik’s face closed. He stepped forward and in two swift movements lifted her up and carried her into the helicopter. He could have been carrying a pillow of goose down for all the effort it seemed to take him. As he strapped her in, she said softly, ‘It’s OK, Nik. I understand. I forgive you,’ but he pretended not to hear.

  She closed her eyes as the helicopter took off, not opening them until she felt a slight bump. An air pocket? Or was it something else?

  She looked out of the window to see they were flying above the wood of spruce trees where she’d hidden the snow machine. They were flying low, five hundred feet, and she could make out each individual branch.

  They were still over the wood when the helicopter’s engine note changed. Her heart soared but she didn’t move, give anything away. Please, make it happen. Please.

  At the same time a klaxon sounded in the front. The pilot said, ‘What the hell . . .’

  Ekaterina closed her eyes. It was happening. Thank God, it was happening at last.

  Seconds later, the engine note changed again. It sounded as if it was winding down.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ said Edik. His voice was frightened.

  The pilot was frantically working the controls. The rotor was still chop-chopping, the klaxon blaring, but the engines were silent.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Edik shouted.

  The pilot didn’t answer. The other men also remained quiet but they were gripping the armrests hard, their knuckles white, their faces rigid with terror. She saw the pilot’s left arm jerk down and at the same time his right hand slammed forward the control column. The helicopter’s nose bucked violently.

  Nik let out a panicking yell. The men started shout.

  ‘Land this thing!’

  ‘Get us down!’

  Ekaterina looked down at the spruces below, their sharp branches jutting through the snow. She couldn’t see anywhere safe they could land. Not unless the pilot managed to work the aircraft free of the wood, which wasn’t possible. They were falling out of the sky, heading straight down.

  All she could hear was wind against the fuselage, and the slow whap-whap of the rotor.

  ‘Shit!’ yelled Edik.

  ‘Mayday Mayday Mayday,’ the pilot spoke into the radio. ‘RA70965 declaring an emergency.’ He rattled off the coordinates but Ekaterina was no longer listening as the machine plummeted towards the trees at a terrifying rate.

  As they careened downwards out of the sky, she felt as though her brain was shutting down. Nothing seemed real. Nik was weeping silently, tears streaming down his face. The others were screaming.

  She had no concept of time, whether seconds were passing, or minutes. She tried to think of Milena but her mind was blank. Outside, the solid mass of dense foliage and wood was approaching fast.

  She hoped it would be quick.

  She closed her eyes. Out of nowhere a vision of Daniel filled her mind. He was lying next to her in bed. His grey eyes were calm, his expression kind and loving. He was brushing back a tendril of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

  Don’t be afraid, he whispered.

  She heard metal tearing, a noise louder than she’d heard before. She felt the underbelly of the aircraft begin to break up. The helicopter tumbled, rolling over and over. Objects flew at her; headsets, branches, a pistol, fragments of metal.

  A smell of burning filled her senses and at the same time there was a dull whump! Flames burst inside the cockpit and then came a pause as though the world was holding its breath – and the aircraft was abruptly engulfed in a fireball.

  Daniel tenderly pressed a kiss against her forehead.

  Don’t be afraid.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  When the trapdoor lifted, flooding the crawl space with light, Jenny hunkered as low as she could and closed her eyes in case they gleamed, and gave her away.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ called Yesikov. Then he barked something in Russian.

  A man replied. She heard rustling sounds, then the man said, ‘Come.’

  She cracked open an eye to see a pistol aimed straight at her. She’d never had a gun pointed at her before and her insides felt as though they were going to melt.

  ‘Come,’ he said again.

  She didn’t have a choice.

  She raised both hands. He lowered the pistol a fraction. Jerked his chin at the trapdoor. Pushing aside the duvet, she wriggled across the floor. Worked her way down the ladder. The warmth of the kitchen felt incredible.

  ‘So.’ Yesikov surveyed her. ‘You seem none the worse for wear from your little adventure.’

  She didn’t respond.

  ‘Milena,’ he commanded. ‘Bring us tea and cake. By the fire in the library. My granddaughter is cold.’

  Without taking his eyes off her, he gestured ahead, to the corridor. Jenny tried to catch Milena’s eye but the woman kept her head averted. Traitor, she thought, but then she saw the woman was trembling. Head to toe, she was shaking and her skin was the colour of dusty chalk. She looked so close to fainting Jenny felt a stab of shame. How could she blame her? Yesikov was controlling and terrifying and having to look at his handiwork on Ekaterina’s face every day must have had a devastating effect.

  In the library, she took the chair with its back to the window so it would make her expression harder to read. Yesikov sat opposite. She tried not to appear glad to sit in a soft chair, or revel in the heat radiating around her. She kept her chin high, her gaze level.

  ‘It was Ekat
erina’s idea, wasn’t it,’ he said.

  Jenny decided to remain silent.

  ‘They’re flying her back,’ he said. ‘They found her just outside a village. She must have been bitterly disappointed she didn’t make it. She really thought she’d beat me. Ha!’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘As if that would happen.’ He looked enormously pleased.

  Jenny tried to work out what would happen next. Ekaterina would be tortured, maybe killed on her return. And what about Milena? She suddenly felt terribly protective of the petite Russian and hoped Yesikov would spare her.

  ‘After this little attempt, I’m going to bring in more men,’ he told her. ‘I’m going to install video cameras in every room, and have someone watch the feed every minute of every day. You will not be allowed more than a hundred yards from the house . . .’

  As he dictated the prison he was going to build for her, Milena came in with a tray piled high with cakes and chunks of bread and cheese. She set it down on the table between Yesikov and Jenny and then stepped to the fire and picked up a metal poker. Jenny was fully expecting her to stoke the fire but instead, in one graceful movement, she spun on her heel and with her arms quite straight, swung it at the old man’s head.

  There was a sharp cracking sound, like a giant egg being broken. Milena gave a shriek and dropped the poker. Her hands went to her face.

  Yesikov looked stunned.

  He said, ‘What . . .?’

  Milena started to make a keening sound. She looked as though she was about to vomit.

  Yesikov’s eyes turned glassy and rolled up into his head. He slumped to one side. Saliva drooled from the side of his mouth and down his chin.

  Stunned, Jenny stared at Yesikov’s unconscious form.

  Milena started rocking. The keening continued. She sounded like a wounded animal. The noise pulled Jenny to her feet. She was trembling and felt sick but she forced the sensations aside. They had no time to spare. She said, ‘We have to get out of here.’

  Milena looked at her blankly.

  ‘The helicopter’s on its way back,’ Jenny added. She gave Milena a little shake. ‘We’ve got to go.’

  No response.

  Yesikov made a moaning sound. Jenny’s senses switched to high alert. She said, ‘Milena. We have to tie him up. Where can I find some tape or rope? Milena!’ She snapped her fingers in front of her face. ‘Listen to me!’

  Nothing.

  ‘Milena!’ Jenny patted the woman’s cheeks sharply. ‘I need some rope!’

  At last, Milena came to. She stared at Yesikov. ‘He’s not d-dead?’

  ‘No! Which is why we need to tie him up!’

  ‘The u-utility r-room,’ she said. The woman was shaking so hard she could barely speak. ‘I will f-fetch it.’

  ‘Wait!’ Jenny said, ‘Where’s the guard?’

  ‘H-he’s in Katen’ka’s room. I g-gave him a sedative, then a big shot of m-morphine.’

  Unsteadily, she walked into the corridor. Jenny stood over Yesikov, watching him. She didn’t know what she’d do if he regained consciousness and tried to get up. Did she have the courage to use the poker like Milena had?

  When Milena returned she was still ashen but she seemed to be functioning OK. She’d brought a roll of duct tape. Perfect.

  Together they secured Yesikov to his chair. Being elderly and muscle-weakened, he would find it impossible to free himself. He’d have to wait until his bodyguard recovered. Milena stood over him.

  ‘I wanted to kill him,’ she said. She turned an anguished gaze to Jenny. ‘For what he did to Katen’ka. To me. Why couldn’t I?’ Tears filled her eyes. ‘Why am I so weak?’

  ‘You’re not weak,’ Jenny told her. ‘You’re a decent person.’

  ‘No, I’m not.’ The tears fell faster. ‘I betrayed Katen’ka. I betrayed you . . .’

  Jenny gripped her shoulder. ‘You did well, OK? Now, we’ve got to go before the guards return. Have you tied up his bodyguard?’

  ‘No. He won’t move for hours. No problem.’

  ‘Let’s do it anyway.’

  Once they’d secured the bodyguard, Jenny said, ‘OK. Where’s the satphone? Maybe we can ring for help . . .’

  Milena brightened. She hastened outside. Jenny followed her into the kitchen, where the satphone lay on the table. Milena picked it up. She looked at Jenny. ‘I need to know . . .’ A look of anguish crossed her face. ‘About Ekaterina.’

  Jenny didn’t move. She didn’t say anything.

  Milena studied the phone for a second, then pressed some buttons. ‘I will call the other satphone,’ she told Jenny. ‘Which the guards took on the helicopter. Edik answered last time . . .’

  She stood still, listening.

  Impatience crawled through Jenny and she had to quash the urge to stride up and down the kitchen. ‘Are you through?’ she asked.

  ‘It just rings and rings.’

  Jenny looked at her.

  Milena looked back.

  Neither wanted to say the words, but they were both thinking the same thing.

  Had the helicopter crashed?

  Long, gnawing silence.

  Suddenly, Milena gave a shake, like a dog coming out of a river. ‘We may never know.’ She turned brisk. ‘If it is gone, then it is gone. Katen’ka would not want us sitting around worrying. She would want us to go.’ Milena started walking for the door. ‘I will get ready.’

  Jenny picked up the satphone. She didn’t know Dan’s mobile number so she decided to ring the only number she knew by heart. She tried dialling double-zero for an international code but the call failed. She ran after Milena. ‘What should I dial if I’m calling overseas? England?’

  Milena paused in the doorway to her room. ‘The prefix is eight. Wait for a dialling tone then dial ten and then the number you want.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  With trembling fingers, Jenny dialled. Several clicks came on the line, which she hoped meant she was being connected. Was it really this easy? Another loud click and she heard a phone ringing. Was it really England? What time was it? The UK was an hour behind Russia here, which would make it mid-morning. They could be in having their elevenses; percolated coffee and biscuits. Or they could be playing with Aimee in the conservatory. They had to be in . . .

  She held her breath as the phone was picked up.

  ‘Hello?’

  One word from her father and the lid she’d kept on her emotions flew sky-high.

  ‘Dad,’ she said on a sob.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The second Dan rang Jenny and got the lodge’s coordinates from Milena, he ordered the helicopter pilot to fly straight there and pick up Jenny and Milena’s snow-machine tracks. The women hadn’t wanted to stay in the lodge. They were too frightened of the guards returning, so he’d told them to head west, towards the Finnish border. Should Yesikov’s guards follow them, he’d tackle the problem when the time came. In the meantime, he was willing the chopper to fly faster, faster.

  Finally, in the distance, he saw a dot in the expanse of snow. He craned his neck and blinked, praying he wasn’t imagining it. Soon, it became clear. A snow machine with two riders. Dan told the helicopter pilot to swing side-on to the snow machine so Jenny could read its registration number, and see that it was a different machine from the one Yesikov had used.

  The second the pilot turned, he saw the snow machine’s passenger bang the driver on the shoulder. The machine stopped and both riders clambered off. His heart clenched when he saw the taller rider pull off their helmet and balaclava and shake their blond hair free.

  Jenny.

  His wife.

  His love.

  Unsure of the ground, the pilot didn’t set the machine down but hovered so Dan could leap out. He ran to Jenny. Scooped her into his arms and held her tightly. She smelled of woodsmoke and snow. She was crying.

  ‘Sorry, my love,’ he said. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her lips. ‘But we have to go.’

  �
��I know.’ Her eyes held his. Relief mingled with joy. She turned to Milena. ‘Milena, this is Dan –’

  ‘Yes,’ said Milena. ‘I know.’

  Dan nodded.

  Jenny looked between them. He could see curiosity flaring in her eyes but they didn’t have time.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’ He looked at Milena. ‘You’re OK to come with us, all the way?’

  She blinked.

  ‘To England,’ he added. He didn’t want there to be any confusion.

  ‘London?’ Disbelief rose in her expression along with something else he didn’t recognise for a moment. Hope.

  ‘If you want,’ he said.

  ‘London is good.’ Her voice was definite.

  They scrambled on board. Buckled up. Dan wanted to return to the lodge and Yesikov, to hit him or kill him he didn’t know, but he knew it would be indulgent and foolish. His priority was to get them all to safety.

  He got the pilot to fly them across the border and on to Ivalo, a small town nestled on the banks of the Ivalo River in Finland. Jenny couldn’t stop looking at him. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She’d lost weight but she was as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her.

  ‘How is he?’ He glanced at her belly and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘As far as I can tell, he’s fine.’ She smiled.

  They landed at the airport twelve miles south of Ivalo. From there they caught a flight to Helsinki, and thence to Heathrow, where Emily was waiting for them, planeside.

  ‘We’d like to see you in the office first thing tomorrow,’ she told Dan.

  He nodded.

  ‘Welcome home,’ she said to Jenny, handing over her passport.

  Jenny nodded. ‘Thanks.’

  Emily turned to Milena. ‘Please, if you would come with me.’

  Milena sent Dan a look of panic.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘You’ll be fine. Emily will look after you, won’t you, Emily?’

  ‘Of course.’ She looked insulted that he’d asked.

  Using a pen of Emily’s and one of her cards, Dan scribbled his mobile number down on the reverse and gave it to Milena. ‘I’ll bring you a phone tomorrow but in the meantime I’ll keep in touch through Emily, OK?’