‘I’m not a dancer.’
The leering one comes forward. ‘What are you then?’ he asks. His accent is English.
‘I’m here to see Dimitri Semenov.’
The leering guy sniggers. ‘Sorry darlin’. Even if you suck my cock you can’t hope to see him.’
I stare at him as haughtily as I can, as my father would have done.
Keeping my expression blank I issue my instruction. ‘Tell him Tasha Evanoff is here to see him.’
‘I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England, you’re not going in, little pussycat.’
‘Did you say Evanoff?’ the expressionless bouncer cuts in suddenly.
‘Yes.’
The bouncer who was laughing at his own joke stops abruptly.
‘You’re Nikita Evanoff’s daughter,’ he repeats incredulously.
‘That’s right.’
‘Got any ID to prove that?’
I hand over my driver’s license.
He looks at it. ‘I’ll just hold on to this for a minute.’
‘Of course,’ I say coolly.
He unhooks the red rope and stands aside. ‘I’m sorry about my colleague’s behavior, Miss Evanoff,’ he says in Russian. ‘He didn't know who you were and meant no harm. He’s English.’
‘Of course,’ I say graciously.
‘Perhaps you’d like a drink while I tell him you are here.’
‘Thank you, no,’ I say.
As I follow him I hear the rude bouncer ask the admiring bouncer, ‘Who the hell is Nikita Evanoff?’
I don’t hear his reply.
‘Please wait here,’ he says, and disappears into a dark door.
I look around me. I’ve never been to a strip club. There is something sad and desperate about the women and the men. Both moving towards each other like magnets but connected only by the currency of money. I watch a woman on a pole.
‘Come this way please,’ the bouncer says close to my ear.
I follow him and we walk in silence along a darkened hallway, the sounds of our footsteps on the wooden floors creating an eerie feel. I feel my stomach churn again. At the end of the hallway we take a lift to the top. The door opens to a large room that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a French palace. It is a startling contrast to the rest of the club.
‘I’m going to have to frisk you, I’m afraid,’ he says politely.
I hold my arms out as he brushes his hands down my sides, under my breasts, around my waist, and down my thighs. He stops at my knees. He is very professional about it, and I feel as cold as ice.
‘This way,’ he says. He opens a set of double doors and we enter a large, expensively decorated room.
Dimitri Semenov is sitting on a long sofa with two topless blonde girls wearing thongs. They look frightened. I imagine them to be girls trafficked from Ukraine or Russia. He is carelessly fondling the breasts of one of them as he watches me with small, curious eyes.
‘Come in and sit down, Tasha,’ he invites cordially.
Then in a completely psychotic about-turn, he harshly orders the man who had shown me in to get out.
My eyebrows rise in surprise and he smiles. A sly, ugly smile. A shudder goes through me. I have heard this man is an utterly ruthless monster. I also know that other than me, no one hates my father more than him, and I have come to see him because of the old maxim.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend.
‘So what can I do for Nikita’s beloved only daughter?’ He says the words as if he is slurping them. He can hardly hide his delight that I have come to see him. He understands exactly what it means when your enemy’s daughter comes to see you.
‘I cannot speak to you in the presence of anyone else,’ I say quietly.
He slaps the breast he was just fondling. ‘You heard her. What are you waiting for?’ Both women jump up and literally run out of the room.
He picks up his glass of amber liquid and takes a sip. ‘There you go. Just you and me. Now speak.’
‘I need to hire two of your most silent men for a day.’
His eyes narrow. ‘All my men are silent.’ Then to make sure that he has not misunderstood the situation, he asks, ‘Does your father know you are here?’
I shake my head.
He smiles slowly. ‘What sort of … expertise should they possess?’
‘Heavy lifting. They must be able to lift, help transport, and completely dispose of a heavy object.’
His smile widens even further. ‘Do you know I have a pig farm? Those greedy beasts will eat anything. Back in Russia we used to feed them sawdust. Naturally, they enjoy a change to their diet as much as the next man.’ His eyes glitter with cruelty.
‘How much will it cost me?’ I ask.
‘For Nikita Evanoff’s daughter … nothing,’ he declares grandly, then he laughs again with the glee of knowing he is looking at the face of the instrument of his enemy’s downfall.
Tasha Evanoff
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_rZ9rHFwGY
You Ruin Me
It is not I, but Baba who invites my father to join us for dinner. He might have thought it suspicious if the invitation came from me, but since it is Baba, Baba who has loved him ever since he was born, Baba, who would have walked over hot coals for him, it never crosses his mind that she is inviting him to his last supper. He simply assumes she is trying to make peace between her warring kin.
To seal the deal, she tells him that the Chef is preparing his favorite pork shashlik, chunks of barbequed meat marinated in pomegranate juice.
He comes in smiling, confident … happy. Not a thought for the harmless, innocent dog he butchered. Not just any creature. My baby. It’s not even like he didn’t know how much I adored that dog. I look up at him in wonder. This is my father. Incredible how he had completely brainwashed and manipulated me into accepting what he did to my mother.
It is almost as if the love he deliberately withheld from me put me under a spell where all I wanted to do was obey him and please him. Or perhaps my sub-conscious mind assimilated that scene with my mother better than I properly understood it. Fall out of line and get kicked out of the house forever. So I became the bird in a gilded cage. The world assumed I sang, but I was gray inside.
If I hadn’t had the courage to turn up at Noah’s office that night, I might still be under his spell. But I’ve had a taste of what lies outside the cage. He crossed the line when he murdered my Sergei. I will never forgive him for that.
He looks at me directly and smiles. ‘You look well, Solnyshko.’
‘Thank you, Papa,’ I reply with lowered eyes.
He asks our server to bring him two bottles of Tsimlansky Black. Baba approves. The smoky, dusty red redolent with the smell of forest floor is perfect with chargrilled meat.
The wine is uncorked and left to breathe, and our glasses are filled with anisette. My father raises his glass and makes a toast.
‘To the wealth of this family.’
I dutifully throw the drink down my throat.
He looks directly at me. ‘One day, you will understand me.’
We stare at each other and suddenly we are locked in a vortex. There is no one else but us in this spinning world. The powerful bonds of love, hate, fear, loyalty, duty, deceit keeps us joined together as we swirl inexorably. Surely it must be clear to him that I am the child who has turned against its own father? It is impossible that he has not guessed his meek daughter and loving mother are about to kiss his cheek and betray him. I can’t breathe. My lungs feel as if they are bursting.
Then he turns his eyes away from mine and reaches for a piece of black bread. I exhale the breath I was holding slowly. I look at his flushed face and, no, he has no idea. We are only chess pieces on his board. His arrogance would never allow him to believe that we could pick up our own skirts and move ourselves, or the other pieces.
The wine is poured, the food is brought in. There is not just shashlik but kulebyakas (pies made with meat, chicken,
and cheese), a variety of blinis, pastries, fritters, meat jellies, paté, boneless duck with cucumber, two types of ukhas (soup). It is clear that each dish has been lovingly prepared and beautifully presented.
How I do, I do not know, but I consume the feast. As does Baba. Once my father stops to take a phone call, my eyes collide with Baba’s and my heart stops. For an instant, it looks as if she has changed her mind and cannot bring herself to go through with our plan, but then she forces herself to smile at me. It is a relief to know that seeing Papa at his most charming has not changed her mind.
The desserts arrive, chocolate mousse, another favorite of Papa’s. A sweet Hungarian wine Tokaj is opened and our glasses filled.
More anisette is poured, more toasts are made.
Baba looks at Papa. ‘Where there is love, there is no sin,’ she says. We down our drinks.
He fills our glasses again. ‘To love,’ Papa says, holding his glass out to Baba.
‘To long life,’ I say, and we empty our glasses again. The alcohol burns my throat.
Then I watch him eat the mousse. He appears to enjoy it and not notice the aftertaste of the pills I got from Dimitri. I had been worried he would detect it, but he has eaten and drunk so much his senses have been significantly dulled. By the time coffee is served my father starts slurring his words. Baba asks one of the servants to help him up to his room.
Most of the servants start preparing to go home.
I go to my room and change into jeans, a T-shirt, and a thick sweater and sneakers.
10.15pm: it is the change-over time. For now only a skeleton staff of two guards at the entrance and, of course, the prowling dogs. Then in less than an hour, all stations, back, front and sides, will be fully manned again.
10.20pm: I go out and call to the dogs. I bring them into the storeroom where I have put meat left over from our meal and close them in. Then I jam the camera by putting a piece of wood on the arm that moves it on its one-hundred-and-eighty-degree journey. It is unlikely that the men in the guardhouse will notice that the camera has stopped turning. If they do, I’m dead.
I wait.
10.30: I throw the rope ladder over the wall. Dimitri’s men, Kiri and Vasluv, all dressed in black, climb silently over the wall. I pull the rope ladder back. I point at the stick holding the camera from moving and one of the men pulls it off. We slip into the dark kitchen and put the rope ladder and the stick into the bag.
10.34: I lead them to my father’s room and stand watching as they inject my father with a longer lasting, deeper sedative. Then they pick him up and carry him down the stairs. They stop at the front door and wait for me.
10.40: I go out to the storeroom and let the dogs loose.
10.45: I see first the dogs, then both guards, their alarms bleeping, their guns at the ready, racing towards the back entrance. The computer screen is showing the back entrance has been breached. There may be an intruder in the grounds.
10.46: Baba cuts the electricity. The entire house goes dark. The cameras stop working. With my heart pounding, I run out to my father’s car, start the engine, and open the trunk. The two men carry my father out of the house. They move surprisingly quickly considering my father’s bulk. They stuff him into the trunk and close it. Vasluv uses the key to open the electric gates that are stuck shut without electricity. Then he waits for us by the gates. Oh, shit. I see that one of my father’s socks has dropped to the ground.
‘The sock,’ I whisper, pointing to it lying on the driveway.
‘Fuck,’ Kiri curses. He jumps out of the car, runs to it, and picks it up.
‘Hurry up,’ I urge, looking nervously towards the back of the house. Soon the guards and dogs will return.
‘Come on, come on,’ I say, my voice full of panic. I can already hear the dogs coming around the side of the house. They will tear Kiri to bits if they find him running in the compound. As he nears, I put my foot on the pedal and the car starts moving. The rest of the guards should be arriving soon. I pray they don’t arrive early.
Kiri lunges into the open car door and slams it closed as I drive through the gates. Vasluv gets the gates to clang into place just as the dogs slam themselves against it in such a frenzy of barking that their mouths froth. In the rear mirror I see one of them running to where the sock dropped, sniffing the ground at the scent left by Kiri.
My palms are sweating so much they slip on the steering wheel. I wipe them on my jeans one by one as I slowly drive down the road and pick up Vasluv. After driving around the block I park the car and call Baba.
10.59: ‘Is it still okay?’ I ask.
‘Nothing to worry about, child. I’ve spoken to the guards. Apparently, it was just a false alarm. There was a glitch and the electricity went off. It’s back on again and everybody is back at their stations.’
I breathe a sigh of relief and with shaking hands start the engine again.
Tasha Evanoff
It is a strange, almost surreal feeling to know that I have defeated a ruthless Mafia gangster’s security system, though to be fair to the gangster, I had an unfair advantage. One he never considered when he was setting up his security system. That he would be betrayed by his own family.
I think of my father sleeping like a baby in the trunk of the car while he takes his last journey on this earth, and don’t feel the least bit frightened or regretful. In fact, I feel nothing. Not even anger in my heart. My father has already taken all that I loved away from me. I don’t allow my mind to dwell on Noah even for a second. The loss is too great, too profound. I don’t think I have started to come to terms with the idea that he might be gone, just like Sergei. Part of a dream. No, I’d rather push it away and deal with it later when I am able to.
I focus my mind on the task at hand as we head to the outer rim of the city where I have only gone once. Then I was sixteen years old. I sat in the back of my father’s car and paid careful attention as he told me to learn the route by heart. This is the Evanoff safe house. Only he and I know of it. Not even Baba does.
‘If ever there is any kind of trouble, I want you to come here and wait until I come and get you.’
What a strange and twisted turn of fate that the very house that is meant to be a safe house for him and me, will end up as the most unsafe place for him.
It is dark and things don’t look the same as they did in the bright light of day, but one by one the landmarks come into view, and one by one I tick them off. Bridge. Shell gas station. Vauxhall tube station. NCP carpark. Railway crossing. Weeping willow tree in the Seven-Eleven carpark. Block of Council estate apartments.
The men remain ducked. Almost an hour after we began our journey, I spot the row of industrial looking warehouse and mechanics. The area is badly lit and isolated. My father picked it because it is a place that you’d struggle to find without directions. It is also a place he is not known. A rough, depressed place where poor people live and work. We pass foraging foxes near some bins, a couple of beggars sleeping rough, and a group of kids drinking and smoking.
The roads are bad, filled with pot holes and I slow right down as I don’t want to go past the entrance and have to double back. The more invisible we are the less attention we will attract. I peer worriedly out of the window. All these storefronts look so similar in the dark. Dimitri said the tranquilizer would keep my father out for up to three hours, and since it’s now been an hour-and-a-half since it was administered, I’m anxious that we get him into the building and secured before he comes around.
‘Here it is,’ I announce with relief as I spot the narrow doorway. I fish into my pocket for the key that he gave me, and take the small torch I brought.
I tell the men to wait in the car as I walk in the path of the headlights towards the entrance door. The heavy lock looks rusted and I pray that the key will work. With a little persuasion the key goes in and thankfully turns. I have to use my shoulder to open the heavy door and then step inside. I shine my torch to the left and then the right, locate the light s
witches and pull them.
Yes!
Bravo Papa. You paid your bills.
The lights are not wonderful, but adequate and I start looking around for the door to the basement that he said was virtually soundproof. I spot it at the far end of the warehouse. The door is locked, but I find a key in my bunch and I open it. The air smells damp and stale. I shine my torch to the sides and find the light switch on the left of the door. I turn it on.
It’s eerily silent. I take a few steps and nearly scream when something brushes my leg, Ugh, rats. Cobwebs catch my hair and send a shiver down my spine. Obviously no one has been here for a long time. I duck my head and see that the room itself is exactly as I remember it. There is a fridge, a cupboard, a bed, chairs, tables. Everything you could possibly need for a week’s stay.
I go back outside and wave to the men to bring him in. While they are lifting my father from the trunk, I reach for the rucksack that I placed in the car earlier in the evening.
I watch as they each take an arm from the inert man and wrap it over their shoulders. Then they rush him through the door. Once inside they let his sleeping body rest against a timber beam.
‘What do you want us to do with him?’ Kiri asks.
‘Down here,’ I call as I make my way down the short flight of steps. I turn around and watch them lie him on his back on the steps and simply let go. My father’s body bumps all the way down. To be honest their roughness horrifies me and then I realize what a mad thought that is.
‘Where next?’ Kiri asks, standing next to my father’s body. His voice is loud as it echoes and reverberates around us.
I scan the cold concrete room again. ‘Put him on the chair and tie him up securely. The ropes are in the rucksack,’ I point out.
‘Okay, Miss Evanoff.’
I look at my father as he sleeps on the chair and I am suddenly moved by his sleeping form. This is my father. What am I doing? I grasp my throat with my hand and remember what he did to Sergei. And my Noah. This is not my Papa. This man is a stranger. Don’t be fooled, Tasha. Behind that peaceful sleeping face lies the heart of an evil monster.
Blackmailed by the beast Page 28