Secret Intentions

by Caitlyn Nicholas

  He called to her when she reached the top of the stairs.

  “Please don’t be afraid. When I’ve sorted out this little matter with your brother you’ll be free to go. I mean you no harm.” With that he disappeared back into his study. Zani digested his words then took herself back to her room.

  Her bedroom door, which she was sure she’d left open, had been closed. She crept up to it and listened carefully, convinced she could hear someone breathing on the other side. She gently turned the handle and shoved the door open. “Awwww, fucking hell, me nose,” squawked a strident voice.

  “Marion?” asked Zani. “Darling are you all right? Is the baby okay? I’m sorry, did I hurt you? I thought you were still staying with Corbin.”

  “Serves me right for listening at doors,” muttered Marion, sitting on the bed and clutching a handkerchief to her nose, which she checked frequently for blood.

  “What are you doing here?” they asked each other at once.

  “Men came to Corbin’s house this morning, said they were taking me to Paul, that he’d arranged it.”

  “And you just went with them?” Zani tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice.

  “No,” Marion deadpanned. “I tried out a few of my karate moves, but they overpowered me.”

  Zani managed a smile, and Marion became serious.

  “They were such a scary looking pair that I thought it best if I didn’t argue. They gave me Paul’s ring as proof.” She showed Zani a large ring which she’d optimistically placed on her wedding ring finger. “He showed it to me once, said it was a family heirloom. Then they said Paul was waiting for his Maid Marion. I thought it was him. I mean how would a couple of thugs like that know his nickname for me?” Her voice trembled.

  “Hey, we’re going to be okay,” said Zani as confidently as she could. “Tell me what happened next.”

  “We drove to Gatwick airport, got on this very neat little plane and landed here a couple of hours later. Then this nice gentleman met me, said he was very sorry and he hoped the baby hadn’t minded the flight. That he was waiting for Paul and when he arrived I could go home. Then he talked on and on about Russian tea. I told him a nice cup of Tetley’s suited me and weren’t those bags you could squeeze without burning your fingers neat. The ones with the strings. He looked a bit cross then and sent me off to my room to watch the television. He’s got satellite. Forty-one channels.” She looked very impressed.

  “And you’ve been here ever since?”

  Marion nodded. “That thin witch came a short time ago and showed me I could get to your room via the bathroom. She grunted ‘wait’ at me then left. So I waited. I hoped you were Paul. I want to go home.”

  “We’ll be out of here in no time,” said Zani optimistically. “I wish I knew what was going on.”

  There was a tap on the door and a tall thin woman brought in a tray loaded with pots of tea and thick slices of fruit cake. She said something in Russian, smiled pleasantly and left. Zani’s stomach rumbled.

  “I’m starving, too. Do you think it’s safe to eat?” asked Marion.

  Zani hesitated. “Yes, this is all to do with Paul. Klebnikoff doesn’t want us dead.” She poured tea for Marion, who perched on the edge of the bed looking tired and extremely pregnant.

  “Come sit in the armchair, you’ll be more comfortable. The baby was due a few days ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Marion tearfully, but then rallied. “And I can tell you one thing, Zani, I’m not bloody well having the little bugger here.”

  Zani laughed again. “Right, well, we’ll just have to figure out how to get home, then.”

  They sipped tea in silence for a moment. What did you talk about when held captive in a remote Dacha in the middle of Russia?

  “I don’t understand what Klebnikoff wants Paul for? I mean, I thought he was my client. I saw him on Dateline. He was just after a boat to impress his friends. How does Paul come into all this?” wondered Zani out loud.

  “I know,” Marion blurted.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I know what’s going on,” Marion muttered, pleating the edge of her voluminous maternity top.

  “You do?”

  “Yes, I know everything. In fact, it’s all my fault.” Marion’s lower lip trembled and she dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. Zani was close enough to sourly note the initials embroidered into it: CdV. Hmph.

  “Well, I wish somebody would explain it to me. I’m getting pretty tired of wandering around clueless,” Zani said, more sharply than she’d intended. Marion didn’t seem to notice.

  “When I met your brother, years ago, I thought I’d never met anyone so glamorous. I fell in love on the spot. But I knew he wasn’t for me. So instead I worked for him. He’s taken me from one job to another and I thought, well, if this is near enough then it’s good enough for me.”

  “Oh, Marion,” said Zani. There was a stool by a mirrored dresser in one corner and she quickly fetched it and sat beside Marion, wanting to be close instead of miles away in the other chair.

  “We became lovers, oh, years ago now. I bought my little house where he told me to, and every week or so he’d pop in. He’d always stay the night. When he wasn’t there, I’d pretend he was a truck driver or something, driving through the night. Thinking of me,” she said wistfully.

  “Then…” prompted Zani.

  “Then a year ago, he became involved in an investment scheme. He was raising money to fund an oil field in Guatemala.”

  “I had no idea he was into that sort of thing,” said Zani in amazement.

  “Well, he was just acting as middle man. Once the deal was done he’d walk away with his ten percent commission of the thirty million pounds.”

  “Holy crap,” said Zani.

  “Anyway. It was all going to plan, but there was an insurgence in Guatemala and a local rebel leader took over the oil field. Paul had already handed over twenty million pounds to the owners and they subsequently disappeared without a trace.”

  Light began to dawn on Zani.

  “The insurance for the venture was in excess of a million pounds, so Paul decided to risk it and not pay the money. He was left in the middle owing five million pounds to small investors…”

  “…and fifteen million to Vladimir Klebnikoff,” finished Zani. All the pieces fell into place. Marion nodded.

  “I tried everything I could to fix it. I sold my little house, all the assets I had. And then…” She stopped talking suddenly and looked down, stroking her pregnant tummy. “…and then I took the Sunberri game and sold it to Vivre for five million pounds.”

  Zani dropped her teacup on the carpet and watched with some satisfaction as a brown stain spread.

  “Holy crap,” she said again.

  There was silence for a moment, then Marion began to sob quietly.

  “I had no idea he’d taken all the money he could find and invested in Sunberri. If he’d told me, I’d never have done it. His scheme would have worked.”

  “Yes, but you were trying to help,” said Zani, helplessly wondering what she could say to comfort her.

  “I tried to make the game worthless to Vivre by leaking the secrets to the gamingsecrets blog and tried to warn Corbin by leaving him a USB key with copies of the blog, so he’d realise it was someone in the company. But it was too little too late. I don’t think he ever found it.”

  “Oh, Marion,” whispered Zani. She was appalled, horrified.

  Paul was to blame for this. Paul and his pathetic greed.

  “You must hate me. I’ve ruined you, your father, Sunberri.” The kindly, gentle woman Zani knew disappeared, and a haunted, guilty person stared back at her. “If it wasn’t for this baby I’d kill myself. I want to die. I can’t bear it.”

  “Yes, you can,” snapped Zani. “That would be the coward’s way out. If you really want to make up for your mistakes. Yes…” she forestalled Marion. “Mistakes. Then you’ll pull yourself together, face up t
o what’s happened and try to sort it out. I will not let this disaster become a tragedy,” she said forcefully.

  Marion wiped her eyes, and Zani saw a zephyr of hope glimmer there.

  “Everything happens for a reason, Marion. We’ll both survive this, and we’ve got the baby. You, me, Dad, Paul and the baby.”

  “And Corbin,” added Marion, smiling affectionately.

  Unsure of what to say to that, Zani said nothing. The intensity of the conversation had left her feeling drained. She stood and stretched and wandered around the room.

  Paul owed the Russian Mafia fifteen million pounds. She could see the situation clearly now. In an effort to earn back Klebnikoff’s money, he’d persuaded her father to invest everything in Sunberri. Then, when the game was released and the share price went up they could sell their shares at a profit and repay the money. But Marion had stolen the game and sold it to Vivre, so now the share price would never go up, it would go down, and realizing this Paul had chosen to save himself.

  Oddly she felt no anger toward Paul, no furious resentment. Instead, regret gnawed at her, and pity. He was a weak and foolish man. He could’ve stayed. They would’ve figured something out. But he’d chosen a life on the run instead.

  She glanced at Marion. The baby was going to change everything. The limbo her family had endured was shifting. From now on the focus was going to be forward, to the next generation. It was time to put the past behind them.

  “The bathroom’s through there and my room is on the other side,” said Marion.

  Zani went to investigate. The bathroom was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Entirely done in pink marble, everything that couldn’t be made of stone was gold. There was a massive bath, big enough for ten people, and a huge flat screen television took up one wall. Even the ceiling was covered in pink marble.

  “It’s a bit like walking into a womb,” Zani called back to Marion.

  “Well, if the baby comes, we can do a water birth in the bath,” said Marion, and Zani snorted at the thought.

  “Imagine old Klebnikoff’s face, if you had to tell him. “Excuse me, Vladimir old chap, but I appear to have had a baby in your bathtub.” Thinking of the fastidious man, Zani giggled. Marion began to laugh and within a second they were both rolling around.

  “Oh, oh,” gasped Marion, clutching her round stomach.

  “What?” asked Zani, sobering fast and rushing back to Marion in consternation.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve just not got much room and laughing is making the baby kick.”

  Zani relaxed slightly. Keeping a wary eye on Marion, she perched back on her stool. “We need a plan. Otherwise you’re going to be having the baby here.”

  “Do you think we can escape?” Marion asked in a whisper.

  “No. It’s too risky. We’re going to have to think of a way to talk ourselves out of here.”

  They began to discuss plans.

  “Everwood must be worth more than fifteen million pounds,” said Zani.

  “But it’s the family seat,” said Marion in awed tones.

  “It’s just a house.” Zani barely restrained herself from letting her impatience show. Marion was the worst kind of snob, one who only saw a title and nothing else. It was the main reason Zani never ever mentioned her family background.

  “But it’s your home, where your mother died,” said Marion sympathetically.

  “What matters is getting my family out from under the thumb of Vladimir Klebnikoff. He’s got his hooks into everything. My business, Paul, Dad. He’s been watching me. I kept thinking it was my imagination, but I’m sure of it now. He’s been watching me and he’s had someone go through my house.”

  “I think he’s been watching me, too. I kept seeing a very tall, dark man. I thought I was just pregnant and paranoid. But it makes sense.” Marion paled. “He frightens me.”

  Zani could see Marion hovering on the edge of panic. It was infectious, and she had to take a slow deep breath.

  “We have to pay him off and then we’ll be free of him. There’s no other option. Dad is in no state to do anything. Paul’s gone, so power of attorney falls to me. I can sign the house deeds over to him. All he wants is his money.” Zani’s lips twisted into a thin line. It would work. It had to.

  “But your dad has taken out a mortgage on Everwood, and his own house.”

  Zani froze. How could she have forgotten? She wavered for a moment, overcome by panic. Think clearly. There is something. It came to her in a flash of relief.

  “The bank won’t have lent one hundred percent of the value. It’ll be more like seventy five, so that’s a start,” she said confidently. “I’m sure he’ll let us go if we promise to sell the house and pay back the rest as we can. I’ll have to sell my business.”

  The thin woman appeared to clear away the tea things and frown over the stain on the carpet. Zani smiled sweetly at her.

  “Dinner, downstairs. One hour,” she said with a thick accent.

  They got their arguments ready. Convinced they’d be able to compel Klebnikoff to let them go, they arrived for dinner full of hope. The minutes ticked past. Borsch, then a hearty stew appeared. Klebnikoff, however, did not. As Zani’s hope faded to disappointment, she began to wilt. Marion wiped away an occasional tear and they picked at their food in silence. As soon as they were able, they escaped to their rooms.

  Sitting in the huge bed, Zani checked her mobile again. Still no coverage. She lay back and stared at the ceiling. Convinced she’d be in for a long sleepless night, she wondered what Corbin was doing. The last few days, the few times they’d met, they tiptoed around one another awkwardly. They’d both been preoccupied. She’d spent most of the time at the hospital, and he’d been busy with work. Despite the fact he’d been asked to take some holidays, he couldn’t stay away from the office. Sunberri was in major damage control. The financial papers grimly predicted bankruptcy.

  Each evening he’d arrive at the hospital, have dinner in the cafeteria then quietly take his leave. There’d been no reference or suggestion of the conversation they’d had in the children’s playground at the hospital. But Zani could see, in his eyes that were shadowed by stress and tiredness, a warmth that seemed to caress her.

  She was still unsure. Not of her feeling for him. But sometimes it was so hard to believe he felt the same way. He treated her with such gentle consideration, completely at odds with the harshness she was accustomed to. She wondered how she could have not fallen in love with him. I didn’t have a chance.

  Knowing it was useless, but taking some comfort from it anyway, she keyed in a text message.

  Help! Marion and I kidnapped! At Klebnikoff’s Russian Dacha. Paul owes fifteen million pounds. Cannot leave until he pays up. Baby due any minute. I love you. Z.

  She found Corbin in the address list and hopefully hit send. Tucking the phone under the pillow, she closed her eyes and, despite the stress and worry, drifted to sleep.

  Secret Intentions

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning the sound of a plane passing low overhead woke Zani. She threw back the covers, scrambled out of bed and rushed to the window. Frustratingly, the scene which greeted her hadn’t changed since the afternoon before. A frozen grey landscape, lit with a thin grey light. No sign of where the plane had gone, if it had landed or if it meant anything at all.

  She shivered, but was reluctant to leave the window, and kept searching the featureless landscape for any hint of rescue. Nothing changed, and eventually cold and a deep sense of helplessness drove her back to the warmth of the bed. She couldn’t think what to do. Rushing outside and writing HELP in the snow might provide some entertainment value for Klebnikoff and the thin witch, but it probably wouldn’t be visible from the air. She’d read somewhere that you could signal a jumbo up in the jet streams by reflecting light off a mirror. Rarely wearing makeup she didn’t have a mirror to hand. She eyed the dresser in the corner. It had a mirror. Perhaps she could break a bit off?


  Sighing at her own ridiculousness, she abandoned hopes for a miracle rescue. Her main focus had to be on getting Klebnikoff to allow Marion and herself back to England before the baby arrived.

  Clearly, sitting in bed was not going to further that cause in the near future, and so with a bad tempered grimace she declared the day officially underway, and stamped into the sumptuous bathroom for a shower. She had to hand it to Klebnikoff she thought as she dried herself with a thick pink towel, there was little difference between his Dacha and a five star hotel. Back in her room she dressed quickly, wishing she had something more awe-inspiring than jeans, a thin jumper and a brown suede jacket, and after electing to wear contact lenses, she combed her hair with her fingers and girded her loins for battle.

  Thinking over the escape plans that she and Marion had discussed the night before, she strode confidently to the door, grabbed the handle and turned. Nothing happened. She rattled it, none too gently. Maybe it was stuck? She turned and pulled. Nothing. Knowing it was pointless, she peered through the keyhole. The draft made her eye water, and there was no sign of a key. Someone had locked her in. Furious, she kicked the door. Her toe throbbed and she swore. It didn’t help.

  “I think we’ve been locked in,” she said to Marion as she hurried into her room. “I don’t understand why he’s locked us in.” She fruitlessly twisted Marion’s door handle.

  Marion, who hadn’t moved from the bed, ran her hands over her belly.

  “I think I just had a contraction,” she said.

  “Don’t. Please don’t say that,” begged Zani, forgetting the locked doors.

  “Well maybe it was a Braxton Hicks, you know, a practice contraction. But I’ve been having them for a while and this felt…sharper,” said Marion with a worried frown.

  “A Braxton what? Oh, God.”

  Dizzy with fear, Zani rushed back into her own room and laid into the door with all her strength.

  “Let me out. Let me out. Let me out. You can’t do this to me,” she yelled at the top of her voice. The thought of playing midwife to Marion lent extra power to her kicks. She hammered with her fists until her hands hurt. “Let. Me. Out. Let. Me. Out.”