by Zoe Sharp
When he was seated again he said, “I’d been following the kidnappings since they started, so when Heidi was snatched I already had a pretty good idea that Gregor Venko was the man behind the operation. I also knew that Heidi’s chances of survival were very poor.” He allowed his distaste to show through. “The man’s a monster.”
I watched him sample his drink. He saw me watching and set the glass aside, as though he’d had enough already. “Anyway, I had Dieter going ballistic for me to do something, so I pulled in a few favours with contacts in the security services. Getting anywhere near Venko himself was going to be impossible without months of preparation, but I did manage to find out the location of his son, Ivan.”
He scanned me for any sign that I considered the targeting of Gregor’s only child made him a monster, too. I kept my face neutral.
“Taking him seemed the logical thing to do at the time.” He gave a wry smile. “Perhaps if I’d had the chance to think things through more I would have hesitated, but I didn’t. We had less than a week to put a team together. Salter was here when Dieter arrived, overheard enough to know what was going on and volunteered immediately.”
There was a hint of something close to admiration in the Major’s voice as he reached for his drink again. “I was glad to have him,” he muttered fiercely. “Damned good soldier.”
“So what happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Gilby admitted. “We had a plan of attack. Not a foolproof one, by any means, but a good plan nonetheless. Somewhere along the line somebody blew it. We were compromised. It was a miracle we made it out with so few casualties and still managed to achieve our objective.”
“And Kirk was one of those casualties?”
The Major lifted his head and looked straight through me, his eyes blank to everything but the recall. “He was last man out,” he agreed. “Told us he’d cover our withdrawal, but the field of fire they put down was incredible. They were using machine pistols and just emptying magazine after magazine at us. Made the Gulf look like a picnic.” He shook his head, grim-faced at the memory. “We got him into the truck, did everything we could, but our medic was injured too. Salter didn’t make it.”
Our medic? Ah, so that was the problem with O’Neill.
“So you dumped Kirk’s body in the forest,” I said. I didn’t think I had any feelings about that, one way or the other. I was mildly surprised therefore, to hear the contempt in my voice. “Nice way to treat a damned good soldier.”
Gilby ducked his head in acknowledgement of the jibe, but he didn’t flinch. “I agree,” he said. “Officially, we couldn’t explain to the authorities what we’d been up to, so we left him. It was a tactical decision, but not an easy one, I can assure you. Making choices like that is one of the burdens of command.” It should have sounded pompous, but somehow it didn’t.
I sat in silence for a while. So there it was. The gospel of Kirk’s death, according to Gilby. If I believed him then my work here was done. And if I had any sense I would report back to Sean and get the hell out of there before the shooting started.
I didn’t even have to explain my departure to the other students. They’d all heard Todd telling me I was finished. They were all fully expecting me just to pack up and leave . . .
But then there was just the small matter of my promise to Gregor Venko. A promise bound by blood, in all its forms.
“Who were the men in the Peugeot?” I said suddenly. “The ones who ambushed us in the forest. Were they Venko’s men?”
“Father, or son?”
“Either,” I returned, just as succinctly, “or both.”
“Son. His bodyguards, I believe. I rather think Venko sent them to try and intimidate or force us to give him back without having to use him to trade for Heidi. It’s only after their attempts failed that he’s come prepared to make a deal. It would explain why we haven’t come under significant fire until now.”
I remembered again Blakemore’s words to the Peugeot driver. “Try this shit again and next time we send you the kid’s ears.” It all made such perfect sense now. How would they have talked that one away to a man like Gregor Venko?
“And now Gregor’s decided to handle things personally,” I murmured.
Gilby inclined his head. “As you’ve seen.”
“So, if that’s the case,” I said slowly, “who was behind Blakemore’s death?”
“That was an accident,” Gilby said quickly. Much too quickly.
I met the Major’s gaze level, held it there. He had the grace to break away first. “You looked at the scene as much as I did – probably more. The fact he was hit before he went over isn’t in doubt,” I said. And because the need to know was deep and biting, I added with an edge dipped in acid, “And now you’ve lost another man. Your forces are being depleted, Major, at a faster rate than you can sustain.”
The hit was a direct one, but the response wasn’t quite what I expected. “Oh, Mr Rebanks isn’t lost,” he said tightly, a flush forming along his pale cheekbones. “Although in my opinion he more than deserves to be dead.” Shock kept me silent, and my silence pulled more out of the Major than questions would have done.
“Dealing weapons from my school,” Gilby gritted out with quiet vehemence, more to himself than to me. “Dealing them to the very men who would use them against us!” He sucked in a breath, fought for control. After a few moments his colour began to subside, calming as his temper ebbed.
Rebanks was still alive. Thank God for that!
“Oh yes,” he went on bitterly, “he deserves to be dead.” He looked up sharply then and I can’t have hidden the emotions that were rioting through my mind.
Astonishment and disbelief came and went across the Major’s own features. “Good God,” he said softly. “It was you.” As he said it another realisation came riding in on the back of the first. “You thought you’d killed him,” he said and I saw him take another mental step back.
“Yes,” I said. There wasn’t much else I could say. I could only hope to distract him. “What’s happened to Rebanks?”
Gilby gave a grunt. “This place was built to house an extensive wine cellar,” he said, briefly showing his teeth. “Mr Rebanks is languishing in new underground quarters until I’ve cooled down enough to decide exactly what to do with him. You probably did me a favour there.” His voice was mild. Only the expression on his face told me he might be lying.
“I wasn’t the only one at the armoury last night,” I said quickly. “Somebody else set that damned fire alarm off. You do know you’ve got the German security services on your tail, don’t you?”
“I couldn’t ignore the possibility,” he acknowledged, but his face darkened at this new infringement on his territory. “They indicated that they would allow me to act with autonomy in this matter until Heidi was released. I should have known they wouldn’t play by the rules.”
Startled, I asked, “They know you’ve kidnapped Ivan?”
The Major inclined his head reluctantly. “Not officially, of course, but yes, they know we’ve got him, all right. In the manner of governments the world over,” he added, his voice sour, “they’re more than happy to overlook it – providing I hand him over when the girl is safe.”
I sat up straight, feeling my scalp prickle with apprehension, ignoring the aching protest of all corners of my body. “Does that mean you’ve no intention of going through with this exchange?” I said carefully.
Something like a spasm twisted across the Major’s face. He passed a hand across it, then let it drop into his lap, his shoulders rounding in defeat.
“God knows,” he said. He tried a smile but couldn’t really raise it. “The words ‘rock’ and ‘hard place’ spring to mind. I’m down on manpower and running out of options.” He eyed me again. “You seem to be the one with all the answers today,” he said with heavy irony. “Any suggestions?”
It was thrown down carelessly, so he could snatch it back without dishonour, but underneath I kne
w the Major wasn’t joking. He was deadly serious.
For a few moments I sat without speaking, then said, “Have you heard of a man called Sean Meyer?”
“Of course,” Gilby said promptly. The name had resonance for him, I saw. It changed things. “After that business in Colombia last spring, how could I not? The whole industry was buzzing with it.”
I’d no idea what had gone on in Colombia, or what Sean’s involvement might have been, but now didn’t seem the time to ask.
Instead I said, “Well Sean’s the reason I’m here. He asked me to come and find out what happened to Kirk.”
He looked surprised at that, and not a little sceptical. “But why, of all the highly-trained personnel undoubtedly at his disposal, did someone as good as Meyer choose you for such a mission?”
I shrugged, and learned that I hadn’t loosened up much since the last time I’d tried it. “Sean was one of my instructors in the army,” I said. “He felt that someone from outside the industry, as you put it, would stand a better chance of passing unnoticed.”
The Major said, “Ah,” and the way he said it spoke volumes. I remembered, too late perhaps, our conversation after the abortive first-aid sim, and the excuse I’d given then for leaving the services. I knew I couldn’t deny the link he’d just made without it seeming that I did protest too much. Better to keep quiet and hope I could gloss over the significance.
“Sean’s here,” I said now. At Gilby’s raised eyebrow, I added, “In Germany. I can give you his number. Call him.”
Still he hesitated. I leaned forwards in my seat, picked up a pen and scrawled the digits across the corner of his virgin blotter.
“Look, you’ve just said yourself that he’s good. Let’s face it – against Gregor Venko’s private army you’re going to need all the help you can get.”
“Including you?” the Major asked, and his voice was wry again.
“Including me,” I concurred.
I got to my feet, trying not to stagger, trying not to groan out loud. Movement outside the window caught my eye. When I looked, in the distance I saw the first of the pupils beginning to straggle back from the assault course.
The Major caught my distracted gaze and turned his head, following their progress across the grounds.
“You might have a bit of a problem with Todd about keeping me on,” I admitted, somewhat belatedly. “That’s the reason I’m back early. He thinks you’re going to send me packing because I’m injured.”
The Major turned back to me, raked dubious eyes up and down. “Injured?”
I explained briefly about my fall from the rope bridge and the cracked breastbone such a move had exacerbated.
“Well, I wouldn’t have guessed, but perhaps it might be best if you weren’t in this fight,” he said, but there was no enthusiasm in his tone. “You’ve done enough.”
“Oh no,” I shot back, fast and fierce. “I’m the one who gave Gregor my word on this. It’s my neck on the line just as much as yours. I hardly think he’s the kind of man who’d accept a sick note from my mother if I don’t show. I’m in this now, whether you like it or not, and I’ll see it through.”
For an agonising few seconds Gilby hesitated, then he nodded slowly. “All right, Miss Fox,” he said and, more purposeful, “Leave Mr Todd to me.”
I started for the door. If I could manage to break into a jog up the stairs I might even be able to snatch the bathroom before Elsa and Jan got back. I wasn’t banking on it, though.
“Oh, Miss Fox.” The Major’s voice caught me when I’d nearly made my exit. “If what I’ve just seen is anything to go by, I’d rather have you when you’re injured than half the men I’ve worked with when they’re fully fit.”
He was back on top, his voice clipped, shoulders straight. Any hint of weariness was gone. He was already reaching for the phone to dial the number I’d given him for Sean.
In his eyes I read a new determination. For the first time since Gregor Venko had left that study, I could see that Gilby really believed he might win this.
I hoped to God he was right.
Twenty-two
Even with a head start, I didn’t make it to the shower first. Elsa easily beat me to it without having to resort to any undignified elbowing techniques. While she was in there, Jan collared me with all the concentrated determination of an average domestic cat faced with a wounded sparrow.
“Come on then, Charlie, what happened when you got back here?” she demanded. “Give me all the gory details!”
For a moment I stared stupidly at her, thinking she somehow knew about Gregor Venko’s armed invasion. It took a couple of seconds for my brain to click round into the right gear.
Actually, I thought she was being thoroughly nosy considering how closed-mouthed she was about her own motives for being on the course, but I refrained from saying so. In truth, I suppose I was glad of the opportunity to try out the rhythm of my concocted story on her before I faced the third degree from Elsa. The German woman, I’d discovered, was not easy to lie to. Maybe I just found the fact that she’d been in the police instinctively intimidating.
So, I told Jan how Major Gilby had decided to exercise his executive power and let me stay on, as he had done when McKenna had concussed himself during the ambush in the forest. It was a recall of a conversation Gilby and I had never spoken, but I was pretty sure it was what he would have said, if he’d thought of it at the time.
I told her how it was up to me to prove I was fit enough to complete the course, how there’d be no quarter asked nor given. There was a certain ring of truth to that last bit, bearing in mind the kind of stick I just knew I was going to have to take from Todd, but still she frowned at the rest of it. I shrugged and didn’t try too hard to persuade her. I was too tired to put up much of a fight, in any case.
My near-indifference must have worked, though, because when Elsa appeared, her wet hair combed back flat from her face, it was Jan who told her I was staying, with hardly a hint of cynicism in her voice. Elsa raised an enquiring eyebrow in my direction and I repeated the bones of my story for her benefit.
When I was through Elsa regarded me gravely for a few moments, then nodded. “Good,” was all she said, almost cryptic. “It is right that you should be here.”
In light of the morning’s events, that could have been read in any number of ways.
The three of us went down to lunch together. When I walked in to the dining room I swear the conversation dried up in direct response. As I walked across to the hot buffet I was self-consciously aware of the eyes following my progress. I was glad of the show of solidarity from the two women flanking me, whatever their private doubts might have been.
I received a few cheery nods of encouragement, though. Declan gave me a “Good on you, girl.” Craddock’s reaction was one of relief rather than pleasure, and I realised he’d been feeling guilty about letting me fall in the first place.
I was more wary about the behaviour of the domestic staff than of anyone else, but fortunately they seemed unaware that I’d played any particular role in the proceedings. I don’t know exactly what it was that the Major said to them after Venko’s thugs had gone, but if you knew where to look and did so very closely you could just about spot that they’d all had the fright of their lives.
Now, I held my plate out and Ronnie slapped a couple of slices of roast beef onto it, his movements jerky, his normally good-natured whistling silenced. When I glanced round I saw that all of them were much the same, but very few of the pupils seemed to have noticed anything was amiss. It’s amazing how often people dismiss waiters and porters and cooks without really looking at them.
Elsa, Jan and I sat together at the end of a half-occupied table. There seemed to be more empty spaces than filled seats down here now and I tried to work out how many had left the course so far. I wondered if the Major calculated his costs on the basis that half the students would drop out before the end of the two weeks.
The doors opened and t
he instructors came stalking in. I could see straight away that Gilby had filled them in and they hadn’t liked what he’d had to say. Some of them less than others. O’Neill was glowering at everybody in general and – when his eye lighted on the three of us women – at us in particular.
“Looks like you’ve ruffled a few feathers, Charlie,” Romundstad commented from along the table. I gave him a wan smile. Oh yes, Tor, but not quite in the way you’re expecting.
In fact, I wasn’t sure that Gilby’s pride would let him tell his men about my intervention, but it wasn’t until Todd swung by the end of our table that I found out for sure.
The bulky phys instructor paused so close to my chair I had to lean back slightly and crane my neck to look up at him. His whole body seemed to be vibrating with anger.
“So what did you have to do to get him to let you stay, Fox?” he muttered, his voice tight and nasty. “Give the old man a blow job?”