Until the game ran out, that is. It had been increasingly hard to find, and when they did catch something, it was leaner with less meat on it. But they couldn’t blame the animals; they were all leaner as well. Ulyana Ivanovna was now taller than she was broad, something she lamented every time she had to fasten another cord around her ballooning clothes. Emilia seemed to have shot up a couple of inches but gone in an equal amount, and she was very tall and lean and strong. Jackson had the sort of body he’d only ever dreamt of, and he hadn’t had to fork out a single gym fee. A diet consisting of almost zero carbohydrates had, despite what some doubters would argue, turned them all into lean and incredibly fit individuals. But a diet entirely without carbs had to be filled with good meat, and theirs, increasingly, was not. Despite Ben and Nikolas’s best efforts, they couldn’t keep them all fed. They started to go hungry. It was harder to walk each day.
§ § §
They arrived in the logging camp the second week of November. It was entirely deserted and clearly had been for some time. They stopped at the edge of the clearing and sat on a pile of logs. No one said anything. They were months away from the nearest occupied settlement, they were all hungry, and winter had only started to play with them.
Both Nikolas and Ben knew, although they hadn’t told the others, they were now very unlikely to leave the taiga alive. They were starving, weak, and beginning to suffer from minor injuries, which would inevitably now turn into serious ones. They were in a very, very precarious state indeed.
Nikolas rose to his feet and announced he was going to break into the sheds and see if he could find anything useful. Ben went with him. He could sense despair in the set of Nikolas’s shoulders—to have come so far and done so much to survive…And the terrible knowledge was with both of them that without their companions weighing them down, both he and Nikolas would survive.
As they were approaching the largest of the logging huts, Ben stopped and frowned. “What’s that?”
Nikolas followed his gaze. There was graffiti on the side of the building. It appeared to be a falling angel—their logo. Besides the painting was an arrow, and it pointed to a box. Ben ran; Nikolas wasn’t far behind. The box was labelled:
PROPERTY OF ANGEL – Camp Domyn 28 of 387.
They prised open the box and found a satellite phone and hand charger. And a letter. It read:
Use the phone. ANGEL has base now in Bratsk. Will send pick up immediately. Next time get someone else to look after your dog for a few days. Hope you had a good time and the weather was great. Love, Tim.
Under the phone was an assortment of survival food. And chocolate.
§ § §
Tim later told them he and Squeezy had arranged for satellite phones to be placed and left in every logging camp, town or settlement known in the taiga on the route between Bratsk and their destination. Michael had contended that if Ben or Nikolas were alive, they’d find a camp, and he’d been right. They’d placed three hundred and eighty-seven phones, and had established a base in the city with a helicopter and medic on standby.
§ § §
They caused some considerable media interest when the survivors were flown into Bratsk a few days later. The billionaire owner of a privately funded foundation going missing was big news. Even bigger news was one of their own going missing, and media person ex-Special-Forces-Expert Ben Rider’s disappearance into the Russian Siberian forest had been the source of endless conjecture. Experts had been brought in to discuss survival in such terrain. Plane crash survivors had argued on the chances of surviving the initial crash. It all remained speculation, however; for the six people that came out of the forest were remarkably reticent, yet consistent, with their stories. They were the only ones who’d survived the initial crash, and they’d just walked out. No real drama.
§ § §
It was difficult to say good-bye. When the morning came for Emilia and her grandmother to fly onward to their destination, Ulyana Ivanovna couldn’t decide who she wanted to hug more and swapped between Ben and Nikolas, sometimes grabbing them both together. Emilia was packed and ready to go and squeezed a fond farewell to Ben. She only gave Nikolas a nod, however, and then walked toward the taxi, which was taking them to the airfield. Nikolas smiled to himself privately.
When the women were on their way, Ulyana Ivanovna waving through her side window and Emilia staring stoically out of hers, Ben turned, slightly puzzled to Nikolas. “That was odd. She hardly said a thing to you.”
Nikolas turned away, smiling more openly now. “On the contrary, Benjamin, she was showing me that she’d listened to the very best advice I gave her. It’s something I need to start putting back into practice with you.”
PART TWO
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Their return from Russia brought changes to their lives, not least of all changes to the company. A week after they got back, Nikolas recruited Jackson Keane as the foundation’s lawyer. If this was more to do with the fact he wanted Jackson effectively gagged about events that had seen them walking out of a Siberian winter completely unscathed, expect for being a little hungry, than it did with feeling the company needed a legal team, who was going to call him on it?
As well as this personnel change, Nikolas wanted to give ANGEL a new focus. It had occurred to him, whilst on the flight back to Heathrow, they’d only survived because of the knowledge he and Ben had. Knowledge was precious, but it could be passed on without diminishing. He wanted to set up training courses for people to learn to survive, and to do this he needed a new headquarters. As much as he’d like to reduce the population of London a little, it was fairly obvious teaching people to hunt, gut and butcher prey might be a little awkward from the glass tower complex.
It was convenient, therefore, he knew someone who was about to inherit a large, empty manor house on the fringes of Dartmoor, one of the few remote wildernesses left in England. He knew this person rather well, in fact; so well he actually put the plan to him one night when they were entangled together in bed.
It was a particularly good time to ask, because Ben was obviously falling comfortably asleep, well used and running on empty. If Nikolas wanted Ben’s unwitting compliance on important issues it was best to approach post-shagged Ben or pre-fed Ben. Predictably, Ben only mumbled, “Sure, whatever you want.”
Which was just what Nikolas had hoped he’d say, for he hadn’t actually told Ben yet the probate was settled, and Ben was free, therefore, to move into or sell the house anytime he wanted. He’d planned to tell him before he left for Russia, but that plan, obviously, had had to change. This was even better. So now he just kissed Ben’s hair and began to imagine how he’d renovate his very convenient new headquarters.
§ § §
Over breakfast the next morning, he pushed a sketch over to Ben. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know. What is it?”
Nikolas took it back and studied it. It was obvious what it was. Ben was being obtuse. “It’s a plan for a new accommodation block.”
Ben frowned and actually glanced out at the small courtyard garden. Nikolas sighed. “At Horse Tor.”
“At my house?”
“Having a conversation with you is like trying to have one with that stupid dog of ours. Yes, your house. You agreed last night. We’d make the house our new headquarters. I’ll need a stable block first, of course, but then I’ll build this…”
“No. What? When last night? Wait. You mean the will thing has been settled?”
“Yes. Do you ever listen to anything I say? You’re very annoying sometimes, Benjamin.”
Ben gave him one of his most withering looks. “I’ve been slightly preoccupied recently? Cannibals? Nearly losing my leg?”
Nikolas made a small dismissive sound and muttered something he knew Ben wouldn’t understand in Russian.
“So the house is actually mine now? I can go there? Legally this time, I mean. My God. Then I’m going…Today?”
Nikolas shrugged. “Goo
d idea. We could have a builder meet us.”
“No.” Ben got up and went to the sink, ostensibly washing out his mug. “I don’t want to use my house as a headquarters.” He turned quickly. “Not until I’ve had it for a while, anyway. It’s kinda…new, yeah?”
“I used my house as our headquarters as soon as we moved in.”
This was such a distortion of the truth he knew Ben would be utterly unable to refute it. He repressed a smirk at Ben’s confused expression. “Well, let me just move in first? What do you need a new headquarters for anyway? What about the tower?”
Nikolas just stared at him. “That’s it. You’re sacked.” He went back to his morning paper, but watched Ben surreptitiously as he jogged up the stairs to pack.
§ § §
A lot had happened to Ben since Nikolas had told him about the house at Horse Tor. He hadn’t forgotten about it, but something else had always seemed to come up to distract him from pushing Nikolas on why it was taking so long to settle. He’d always felt a little embarrassed that Nikolas was dealing with this for him, just as he dealt with everything else. Sometimes, Ben wondered if Nikolas would like to take over from his circuitry system, beat his heart for him, or pump his blood around. He wanted Nikolas obsessed with him, but he also wanted…respect. He had the sneaking suspicion you didn’t hold onto someone like Nikolas Mikkelsen without that. And he wanted to hold onto Nikolas for a very, very long time.
So the house had stayed in his mind throughout their horrific time in Denmark, all through the tsunami, and even in the snowy bleakness of Siberia. It remained in his memory, perhaps not surprisingly now that he thought about it as a haven of peace and serenity surrounded by bracken and gorse and wild moorland grass. In Ben’s mind the sun always shone on Horse Tor House. He’d never thought of himself as a romantic, for romantics, by and large, didn’t join the army; or if they did, they tended to join the cavalry, but he’d fallen in love with the house the moment they’d crested the ridge of the valley in which it sat in all its ancient state, despite the argument that’d been souring the atmosphere in the car at the time. It was the last time he’d believed Nikolas to be a Danish diplomat called Sir Nikolas Mikkelsen. Perhaps the house represented innocence. That he should then discover he’d once lived there with his mother, and his father had left it to him in his will, only cemented for Ben the deep belief he’d always harboured in fate. It was fate that’d led him to the house, and it was fate that was going to make it his sanctuary.
He looked up from his packing, staring at the wall. He wanted it to be his home again. It was not going to be Nikolas’s new headquarters. He pouted. Best not to mention this just yet. Instead he’d string Nik along and keep him distracted with sex. Ben screwed his face up. Distracting Nikolas with sex hadn’t worked all that well for the last six years—hence, possibly, the aforementioned incident in Denmark, the tsunami and the mutant Siberian cannibals. And he could add in a small shooting incident with psychotic Russians and some minor torture by badger-lovers. And let’s not forget the Iraqi hit squad. He did feel a little guilty blaming Nikolas for the tsunami, but the rest of it was definitely his fault. So, either he needed to step up his sexual allure, or he needed to think of another way to entertain Nikolas.
He couldn’t think how a tranquil country house could offer much amusement. It was going to have to be the sex then. He was willing to make the sacrifice.
“What’re you doing?”
Ben flicked his expression back to neutral and indicated his bag, leaving it to Nikolas’s razor-sharp mind to work the rest out.
“Are you taking Radulf?”
“If he wants to come.”
“How will you tell if he does?”
“He’ll probably come up here, bothering me when I’m packing.”
Nikolas pouted. “I invited you to accompany me to Russia.”
Ben quirked his lips. “Yes, and I’m still thanking you for that. Nikolas, I’m going to Devon. Would you like to come?”
§ § §
The three of them arrived at the house toward the end of the afternoon, Radulf in his favourite position, head stuck out of the window, feeling the wind lifting his jowls. The stream of saliva he let fly never improved the obsidian black paintwork, but none of them cared all that much. They could always buy another Merc when this one needed cleaning.
Although it was the last week of November, Ben intended to stay in the house and had brought equipment to camp out. Nikolas had brought a list of five-star hotels. He actually had no intention of sleeping apart from Ben, and was fairly sure when Ben fully took on board the house was his, and that he could come and go as he pleased, he’d be only too happy to go more than come. Or if he was sharing a bed with Nikolas, come more than go…
They pulled right up to the big oak door. Ben sat for a while, staring at the rather bleak appearance of the place in November. “It’s going to take hell of a lot of money to set right, isn’t it?”
Nikolas knew only too well how much a house such as this would cost, but it was pretty immaterial, given the amount of money he actually had. They clambered out and opened the back door for Radulf. Nikolas clicked his fingers to keep the dog close while they tried the key. Radulf was fine when he got to know a place but his very poor eyesight tended to make the discovery process a little hairy. It was exactly how they remembered it—dark, cold, and empty of furniture. It was still in good repair though, sound wooden floors, panelling, and all the glass still in place.
“Do you really not remember this at all from your childhood? Most people can remember things from when they were four.” Nikolas was casting his eye around the kitchen where they’d spent a lot of time the previous year while he recovered from being shot.
“Can you?”
“Of course. I can remember being born.”
“Bollocks.”
“It’s true. And I remember fleeing to Denmark, although I was only a few months old.”
Ben frowned. “And this from the man who doesn’t appear to remember we own a washing machine.”
Nikolas shrugged. “Why do I need to? I own you.” He dodged and made it to the back door in one piece. Chuckling at Ben’s expression, he wandered over toward the tor. “I wonder if your dam is still holding.” It was. Nikolas threw a pebble into the pool. Lake Aleksey was looking good, too.
Nikolas was hungry. This was still a relatively new experience for him. He’d started eating properly for the first time only a year before, and his gradual acceptance of the fact that appetite wasn’t weakness, and didn’t bring punishment, had only been helped by the months he’d just spent in Siberia, hunting and killing every mouthful of food he’d eaten. That direct and very visceral relationship between food and life had finally helped him banish ghosts he’d harboured since his first time in that distant place. He could now think about food, eat it, and occasionally enjoy it, without wondering what he was going to have to do to deserve it. He also knew the best way to get Ben to a luxury hotel for the night and into his bed and hopefully into him was to bribe him with food.
“Are you hungry?”
Ben took this at face value, as Nikolas was hoping he would, but the plan began to fail when Ben returned to the car and pulled out a cool box. There was nothing, in Nikolas’s experience, ever worth eating that came out of a cool box. He watched Ben carry it in though, pondering his strategy. He glanced to the dog for support. If there was one thing he knew about Radulf, it was this dog liked his luxury. He preferred Range Rovers to Ladas. He liked hotels that offered dog baskets and biscuits to canine guests. He didn’t like sleeping on cold, hard floors. He’d come from a shelter. He knew what was what. Nikolas watched Ben carrying in his sleeping bag and roll mat. “Did Radulf eat anything bad by the pond?”
Ben turned. “Why?”
“He was just sick. It’s probably nothing.”
Ben put down his equipment and clicked his fingers for the dog. Radulf trotted closer apparently trying to look a little queasy. Ben felt him
over. Nikolas idly twirled the lead. “He felt a bit hot earlier, but we did have the heating up in the car.”
“Yeah. He is hot.”
“What! Is he? Well, yes. Never mind. No doubt he’s brought that disgusting blanket of his. You can lay that down if the floor is cold.”
Ben turned to him. “Maybe you should take him to the hotel with you.”
“He’d whine all night for you. You know what he’s like.”
Ben frowned. As Nikolas had planned, Ben couldn’t refute something that happened when he wasn’t there. Sometimes, Nikolas missed his skills being truly tested. Benjamin Rider was just too easy a target to manipulate.
Ben glanced behind at the stuff he’d carried in. “Maybe if I come over with you, get him used to the room, then I can come back here this evening.”
“If you want. I don’t mind whatever you do. I hear the lobster at Leigh Park is locally caught. Perhaps stay for dinner and then return? But whatever you want, of course.”
The Bridge of Silver Wings Page 15