“Get up.” Mairead snarled at her, pulling on her arm. “Or the prod goes right in your ear and I hold it there.”
“Please,” Asya groaned. “I think I’m going to pass out or throw up.”
“Bullshit. You’re nowhere near that stage yet. Last chance. One… two…”
“The door to the foyer squeaked opened and a man strolled in, wearing a long tailored black coat over a suit, and carrying a briefcase. He was tall and looked to be in his fifties with a full head of dark greying hair, a moustache and beard.
Mairead dropped down to crouch by Asya’s side, hiding the gun behind her. She put her arm around her shoulders.
“Come on, Sophie,” she said sweetly, keeping the man in her sight. “I’ll get you back to my place. You’ll feel better.”
The man stopped at the elevator, pushed the button and gave them a disapproving glance.
Mairead smiled at him. “Too much to drink.”
The man snorted quietly and returned his attention to the elevator. When the doors opened, he stepped in and Mairead watched until the doors had closed again. Her heart was pounding.
“Now fucking get up.” She pulled Asya’s arm savagely enough to get her back on her feet. “And walk.”
It was more of a shuffle, and Mairead stopped to swap gun for prod, thinking one quick zap might liven her up. They got to the door.
“Open it,” Mairead demanded, moving closer to her.
Outside, she would be an open target and she wanted Asya shielding her as much as possible, but it was going to make slow going.
The door squeaked open and Mairead held onto her, watching and listening to the traffic outside. The thought of being picked off by a bullet was unnerving her, stopping her from taking that next step. She barely noticed the soft ding of a bell behind her, distracted by Asya’s soft laughter and lack of resistance.
“What the hell is so funny?” Mairead demanded.
Only at the last second did she hear the hurried, approaching steps behind her. Mairead barely had time to move when the arm went around her neck and tightened, dragging her upwards until her feet were barely touching the floor. Her finger was not on the trigger of the prod, but she brought it up savagely, hoping to connect with her unseen assailant. It was snatched from her grip and tossed aside.
Mairead grasped at the arm about her neck, kicking her feet up and back to rock and slam back against the body behind her. She didn’t budge him, and rapidly her chances of fighting back were becoming impossible, through pain and lack of air. She made a desperate attempt to pull at the chokehold and failed. Precious air continued to be torturously denied, until her face felt as if it was about to explode. Her mind was soon clouding over, until an avalanche of blackness poured over her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Dylan steered the van into the driveway and drove straight out to the back of the house and into the high grass. He was out of the van and striding to the door which he forced open with one solid kick. Once inside, he went straight through to the other door out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Getting his bearings he flung open another door.
In a corner of the empty room, Melanie was standing there screaming, and suddenly he was being attacked from the side. His hand flew up to catch the iron poker that was about to descend on him.
Esther’s mouth fell open. “Master…”
He eyed her angrily. “The moment you heard my van, you should have been in that cellar.”
She stared at him, and then dissolved into tears as she seized him into a tight embrace. Dylan put his arm around her and allowed her to hold him for a moment as he looked to Melanie, sliding down the wall, terrified and bawling.
“Esther,” he said gently, stroking her hair. “You need to attend to Melanie. Come on, now.”
Her grip on him relaxed and she nodded, still sobbing as she went to take Melanie into an embrace. Dylan watched her speak quietly to her, but the fear remained in her eyes. Esther turned her away and looked back at him, her arms locked about her friend.
He returned a sheepish grin. “I could hardly knock, could I?”
“She’ll be alright,” Esther replied, kissing Melanie’s head. “Won’t you, Melanie? It’s Dylan and nobody is going to hurt us, I promise.” She turned an angry gaze to him. “I don’t understand. I didn’t know what had happened…”
“A lot has happened, Esther, and I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you sooner. I’ll do my best to tell you everything. Where’s Mairead?”
Esther’s mouth fell open. “She’s gone. Oh, my god, you have to go after her. She’s about to do something.” She steered Melanie back to the corner. “Melanie, I have to talk to Dylan. Can you just sit there, please? It’s so important.”
Melanie nodded and seemed content to sit in her corner as Esther went to Dylan.
“Esther, where is Mairead?”
Esther’s face crumpled. “I don’t know. I don’t know. She’s gone after some Russian woman… to kidnap her. I don’t know who or where or anything. If you had been here, if you had just fucking been here…”
“Calm down, Esther. You have a right to be angry, but now is not the time. What did Mairead say to you?”
Esther gasped in a breath and nodded her head. “Um…” Her face lit up. “She gave me something for you, when I walked her out, a package.”
“Good,” Dylan nodded, keeping his voice calm. “Where is it?”
“The cellar.”
Dylan went to another corner of the room and threw the carpet back. There was iron ring flush with the floor which he pulled up, opening the cellar door. He descended the stairs and clicked a switch on the wall, lighting up the dark space. On an old wooden chair he saw a thick, yellow package.
Melanie had grown quieter when he climbed out and put the door and carpet back in place. Tearing open the package, he took out a cell phone, a charger and a folded piece of paper. He opened and read it.
Dylan,
Why aren’t you here? Do I have to do everything myself? Well, hopefully you’re reading this in time. I know you must be hurting bad for Tammy, but you should have worked it out by now, how they found us that day. Vanessa’s girlfriend, Sophie, is Asya Ivanchenko. Who else could have possibly learned of our plans? I know Vanessa wouldn’t have told her, but Asya must have known something was up with Vanessa using the old car. All it would have taken was putting a tracer on it. This was only a theory, but then I went to her apartment and found a Russian driver’s licence with Asya’s name on it.
“Fuck.” Dylan heaved a sigh. He’d failed to do what Mairead had done so easily, by examining what had gone wrong that day. It should have been the first thing he’d asked himself, but his grief for Tammy had overridden everything. He cursed again and resumed his reading.
So I’m going to get the bitch. I’m going to throw her in the boot of a car and I’d rather not be the one to interrogate her. That’s the plan. Just in case it doesn’t go like that, I’ve sewn a tracker into my bra and set up the tracking software on that phone and charged it up for you, so please come find me. Other than that, can you tell James that I did my best and I love him so much it hurts? Don’t leave him in prison. Break him out if you have to. Anything.
Love Mairead
His hand was still trembling as he powered up the phone and started searching through the apps.
“Master,” Esther called softly. “Are you alright? What did it say?”
Dylan pursed his lips tightly, shook his head and continued to search, until they were all startled by the echoing knock at the front door. Esther shrugged and shook her head fearfully.
“Get Melanie down into the cellar and stay silent.” Dylan pocketed the phone and quietly left the room. Instead of going to the front door, he returned to the kitchen, peering out from the side of the window for any movement.
After a while, the knock came again. Dylan slipped out the back, sweeping his gaze about everywhere and pausing to listen. Slowly, he made his way up the side of the
house to the front and sneaked a look.
A young Maori girl stood at the front door, waiting and looking back at the road nervously. He did his own thorough survey before looking back at her.
The girl knocked again harder and leaned into the door. “Please, someone open the door. I’m looking for Esther. Mairead sent me. She said you would help me.”
Dylan wasn’t sure what bothered him more, her request or her accent. The girl sighed deeply, turned and started walking towards him. Dylan knew she was going to try her luck at the back door and quickly pressed himself back against the wall.
The moment she rounded the corner, he had her, pulling her against himself with his gloved hand going over her mouth. Instantly, she was struggling and managed to sink her teeth into his hand, crushing his fingers as she tried to reach back and claw his face. Holding his head back, he swivelled and pushed her up against the wall.
He leaned his face into her. “Get your fucking teeth off of my hand.”
She bit harder and shoved back, stomping down ineffectively on his steel capped boots. Using his body to push her harder into the wall, he reached down and snatched out his knife, bringing it up to rest the point of the blade at the base of her chin. Her struggle ended.
On a whim, he spoke to her in Russian. “Who are you?”
He felt her tense up, before she replied in Russian. “Go to hell, you fucking pig.”
He grinned, before he continued. “And how many of your Russian friends are with you?”
“I have no Russian friends. I am Ukrainian and I am here alone.”
Dylan frowned and addressed his next statement to her in Ukrainian. “You have one more chance to tell me who you are, before I shove this knife up your arse.”
“My name is Greta… Greta Petrenko. I came here to get help.”
He dropped the knife away from her throat, more in shock than from anything deliberate.
* * * * *
It was as if she was standing on hot coals with flames licking at her body. Mairead came awake with a yell that sounded more like a croak. She was instantly aware of the pain in her throat and neck, and was struggling to get a decent breath. She tried to move, only to realise that her hands and feet were bound, and someone was holding her. She snapped her head about and understood she was in the back of a van. It was moving, and there were other voices coming from the front, separated by a thick wire mesh.
Asya was lying on a blanket in front of her. She looked drunkenly smug, softly laughing and holding the cattle prod. Mairead scowled, realising she had used the prod on her ankle, which explained the fierce burning. She was pushed forward as her captor snatched the prod from Asya, leaving her pouting like a sulky child. A deep masculine voice spoke angrily in Russian and Asya laid her head down, closing her drooping eyes.
Mairead tensed as the voice came close to her ear. “And you just sit tight and don’t give me a reason to snap your neck.”
Her throat felt swollen, but she managed to speak. “Please, I need water.”
There was no reply and she spoke louder, ignoring the pain it caused her. “Please, I’m pregnant. I need water.”
“What the fuck did you say?” The male voice spoke close to her ear.
“I’m pregnant.”
The man spoke out in Russian and another male replied from the front of the van, before her captor spoke to her again.
“That’s bullshit.”
“Ask Asya,” Mairead said. “She knows.”
Another exchange of Russian conversation went on for a minute with the men up front, at one stage getting heated and then settling down again.
The man spoke again. “So you’re pregnant. Big fucking deal. What has that got to do with anything?”
“Because I will do anything to save my child. I will tell you everything you want to know, as much as I know. Dylan would want me to… because this is his child.”
She felt her captor’s grip tighten and wondered if she had made a grave mistake and only made things worse for herself. It was a terrifying gamble of which she didn’t want to imagine the repercussions.
Someone spoke from the front and immediately the conversation became animated and heated. Her captor seemed to have the authority as his angry words quickly subdued the others.
“If you are lying to me,” he told her quietly. “I will personally make you suffer. I will get you water but then you can shut the fuck up. You’ll have plenty of talking to do later.”
Mairead trembled with relief, wondering if her lie had made any difference to the situation. It probably didn’t matter.
* * * * *
Esther handed a steaming cup to Greta who took it in trembling hands and muttered her thanks. She was still shooting venomous glances towards Dylan who stood watching her. When he was satisfied that she wasn’t about to kill everyone, he went back to the kitchen and brought out the phone.
He turned on the GPS tracking system. A map came up and he was relieved to see a glowing red dot moving steadily on it. Provided the tracker was still with Mairead, she was only a kilometre from Wellington airport. It didn’t make sense, but neither did the fact that Lena’s daughter was now sitting in the lounge.
Pocketing the phone, he returned to the lounge and instantly received a harsh glare from Greta.
“What time did you see Mairead?”
“About twelve,” Greta replied “She brought a bike to the charity shop to get rid of it, but I had seen her before that. That’s why she recognised me.”
“When?”
Greta paused. “When I was with a client at her night club. We spoke for a moment. Her husband was kind to me.” She gave Dylan a look of contempt. “Unlike most men.”
Dylan nodded. “James is a good man, and he has a lot more patience than I do, so keep talking.”
“What the fuck do you want to know? I am told that I will get help here. Mairead tells me this.”
“And you will, but right now I am more interested in helping Mairead. She’s in a fuck load of trouble with an unfriendly bunch of Russians and I need to get to her.”
“But she was alright. How does she get into this trouble you talk of?”
“Because she has gone after these people on her own.”
Greta shook her head, bewildered. “I tell her. I tell her these men are dangerous. She wants to know who they are, but all I can tell her is about Leo.”
“Leo who, and why would Mairead be headed for the airport?”
“Because that is where Leo has his helicopter that brings us girls from the house to the city.”
Dylan’s blood chilled and he was silent long enough for Esther to look at him anxiously. “Is Mairead alright?”
He frowned and stared down at the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do,” Esther shouted back at him. “Tell me. Tell me what’s happened to Mairead.”
“I said I don’t fucking know,” he glared back at her, and gritted his teeth as she dissolved into tears. Melanie went to her and his attention turned to Greta who was looking equally distressed and confused. “Leo who?”
“Ashrukov,” she told him tearfully. “You can’t let her be with him.”
“I don’t plan to, but the best chance Mairead has is by me knowing everything you can tell me about Leo, starting with his location.”
“I have no idea. We are flown to the city and transported by car to meet clients. A bag is placed over our heads, until we are back at the house. In the year I have been there, I know enough that it is near the coast. Some days you smell the salt in the air and there are always seagulls about. There is a forest behind the house and once I’ve been aware of being driven through it for a very long time.”
“How long does the flight take?”
“Just over an hour.”
“And I suppose there are more girls like you there?”
“Eight of us before I escaped, and most of them, younger than me.”
“Are you kept separate from the house?”
> “Always. We are kept in a large shed.” She scowled. “It used to be a stable for horses, but it is guarded day and night. The whole place is guarded. Leo has men, guns...”
“I want you to draw a layout of the place and write down anything you can remember. Even the names of the men.” He looked at Melanie. “Do you have paper, pens that she can use?”
Melanie nodded and started to get up, but was reluctant to leave Esther who was hanging her head.
“Esther.” Dylan called to her gently. “I want you to come outside with me.”
She nodded and got up. As she approached, he pulled her into a tight embrace and looked at the other girls.
“Mairead is going to be alright. You have my word.” He lifted Esther’s chin and smiled at her. “Have I ever broken my word?”
“No, Master,” she whispered, only loud enough for him.
“Let’s go.”
Esther followed him through the house and out to the van. He threw a side door open and she watched as he pulled up the carpeting and opened a hatch in the floor. Her heart picked up pace at the sight of the tactical weapons before her. She watched him pick up a pistol.
“You’ve used this one before with me. Do you still remember how to use it?”
Esther nodded blankly. “Safety off, aim, squeeze.”
“A tight grip with both hands.”
“The recoil,” she nodded.
Dylan smiled. “How many rounds?”
“Fifteen.”
“Good girl.” He placed it in her hands. “Don’t let the others see it.”
“This is all real isn’t it?” Her voice faltered as she stared at the pistol.
“Merely precautionary. This place has not come under their radar. There is no reason they should find any of you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m up to this. I’m afraid. If anything happens to you now…”
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