She froze, and for the first time gave attention to his words.
'I just want to talk. Do you understand? Nod if you understand.'
She nodded.
She felt the grip round her waist loosen, slightly, though the hand clamped over her mouth kept up its pressure. She wondered about trying to make use of the greater freedom to try to break free, but thought better of it. He could tighten his grip again in an instant. Besides, she was beginning to think that perhaps, just perhaps, things were not as she had first thought. Could it be that she may even live through this? After all, if he had intended to kill her he could have done so by now.
'I am going to take my hand away from your mouth, but I don’t want you to scream. Nod if you understand.' She nodded. 'You won’t be in any danger, but you mustn’t make a noise. Nod if you understand.' She nodded again.
She felt the hand lift away and it was all she could do stifle the reflex that made her want to scream out as soon as she knew she could. She swallowed, hard, and stayed silent, frozen to the spot. As the hand moved further away from her face, the pressure round her waist also fell away. She turned to face him.
She recognised him at once.
CHAPTER 24
Though Marianna Podruznig’s previous and only sighting of him had been fleeting - the day he panicked them all with his charge to the gates - she had got a good enough look when he turned his face up to the window. She had thought then he didn’t look much like the deluded madman Valerik had spoken of. In fact, she’d thought his ruggedly-handsome features, together with the easy way he carried himself - remarkable given what was happening - spoke more of someone who got things done through a quiet determination, rather than threats of violence. She also remembered how, on that occasion, she thought there was a certain sadness about him. Something in his face as he came up the drive. The way he stopped to stare at the fountain. It had made her wonder if Valerik had told her everything when he described how the house’s previous would-be purchaser had defaulted, time after time, on his agreement with the builder, Klerides.
But even if she had been right, there was no trace of sadness in him now. In its place was a grim determination, offset by a look that seemed intended to convey he meant her no harm. She was almost convinced.
'Wh-what you want?' She kept her voice low, almost a whisper. She didn’t want to provoke him.
'Like I said, I just want to talk.'
'About what?'
'Your husband. You. Your daughter. The house.'
'The house is nothing to do with me. You must talk to my husband.'
'I’m afraid the time for talking may be over.'
She remembered his latest attack, a few days before and surprised herself again by daring to let the anger she’d felt then show. 'You should have thought about that before you started shooting at us. My daughter plays in our garden. You could have killed her.' As she spoke, his eyes narrowed, almost a puzzled look. 'Please do not treat me like an idiot,' she continued. 'I get enough of that at home.'
He raised an index finger. It was a curious, yet under the circumstances somehow convincing, way of marking conviction. 'Believe me. I would never do anything that might cause harm to you, or your daughter.'
'So you think that shooting holes in my husband’s car is not dangerous? What if she had been there? She could have been inside for all you know.'
For what seemed a long time he didn’t answer, but stood looking down at her, as if digesting her words. Or working up a defence? Eventually the quizzical look faded. She thought she caught the merest hint of something else in his blue eyes – surely not amusement? But then it too was gone.
'As I said, I would not do anything to harm you or your daughter. My argument is with your husband.'
'Then please, argue with him and leave me and my daughter out of it.' She turned, emboldened enough now to make to leave. But his hand stretched over her shoulder to press against the door.
'That is what I intend to do. And why I am here.'
She turned back to him. Though preventing her from leaving, she had no sense now that he posed any threat to her. For the first time she began to relax, curiosity taking over.
'What do you mean?'
He hesitated, as if weighing his words. 'Your husband is not the sort of man who responds well to argument.'
Her tongue ran around her lips. A nervous reflex. She never, ever, spoke about Valerik to others. She didn’t dare. Too many spies. 'Maybe not. But that is nothing I can do anything about.'
'And I cannot give up what is rightfully mine.'
She was about to argue, but knew this was not the time. 'So what does that mean?'
'It means things will get worse.'
She squared up to him as far as she was able. He stood a good six inches over her. 'I am not frightened by threats, Mr…-.' She struggled to recall the name Valerik had mentioned.
'My name is Peter. And I am not trying to threaten, or frighten you. I just want to make sure that innocent people, like you and your daughter, do not end up getting hurt because of your husband’s wrongdoing.'
Now it was her eyes that narrowed. 'What do you mean, wrongdoing?'
He took a long deep breath. 'What has your husband told you about me?'
At the bottom of the stairs, Max turned, looking up to see if there was any sign of her. He could not understand how women could spend so long, so often, just taking a leak. What the fuck do they do in there?
He looked across to where the others sat waiting, and saw the other woman, the one with the even bigger tits and the snotty kid, glance in his direction. Even she seemed to be becoming impatient. As Max waited, Ivan, their team leader for the day, lifted his head and spread his hands. What gives?
Max shrugged back. Search me. Ivan shook his head, showing his disdain for the former Chechnian soldier. The only representative of his country in the entire squad, Max sometimes felt the ribbing getting to him - but the money was good. He threw Ivan a look he hoped would say, If you’re so fucking clever why don’t you go up there and drag her out?
A minute later, Ivan raised himself from the chair to wander over.
'What the fuck’s taking her so long?'
'What the fuck do you think? Playing with herself for all I know.'
Ivan sneered, looked back at the other woman and the two girls, before turning back.
'Go tell her to move her arse. I’m supposed to take Mr P. to Limassol this afternoon. If I’m late back, I’ll blame you.'
'Fuck-all to do with me.'
'Just tell her.'
Muttering oaths, Max turned and started up the stairs.
At the table in the corner, the ginger-haired man reading his paper stretched out a finger and pressed a button on his mobile’s screen.
Marianna stared up at the Englishman, still not sure how much she should trust him. His story had the ring of truth about it. Yet if it were true it would mean… it was all her fault. Was that possible? Her crestfallen look must have betrayed her thoughts as he suddenly gave a half-smile.
'It wasn’t your fault, Mrs Podruznig. Your husband wouldn’t have told you the house was already spoken for.'
'But if I had known, I wouldn’t have-'
'You didn’t. Don’t worry about it.'
She looked puzzled. 'So why are you telling me this n-?'
His hand came up to her mouth, but lightly, shutting off her words. As she’d been speaking she’d caught the sound of a low buzzing somewhere. They waited. Seconds later she heard footsteps on the landing.
A knock, hesitant, on the door.
Alarm flooded her face.
'Mrs Podruznig? Are you alright?'
She took a steadying breath. 'Yes Max, I’m fine. I’ll be down in a minute.'
Through the door came a grunt of acknowledgement, but no sounds of him moving away. After several seconds there was another knock.
'Mrs Podruznig?'
She feigned annoyance. 'What now?'
A pause. 'Ar
e you-? Is someone else… in there?'
'Don’t be stupid Max. Go away. You’re becoming annoying.'
'Sorry Mrs Podruznig, just checking. I’ll see you downstairs then.' She let him wait.
'Yes.'
Another pause.
'Okay then.'
They heard his heavy tread descending the stairs. She breathed out.
'I still don’t understand what you want from me. I have no control over what my husband does.'
He nodded, thoughtfully, as if coming to a decision.
'I wanted to warn you.'
'Warn me? About what?'
'About what will probably happen.'
Fear in her face now. 'What do you mean?'
'I am afraid that people may start getting hurt.'
'Which people? Me? My daughter?'
'That is why I’m here. I wouldn’t want that.'
'You think Valerik would?'
'Let’s put it this way, if things became more… heated, would he let you move away? To somewhere safe?'
She thought about it. She didn’t like her conclusion.
He read her silence. 'That is why it would be better if you and your daughter weren’t around.'
Her eyes widened. 'You are telling me I should leave my husband?' He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Suddenly overcome with shock, she could hardly put words together. Her breath started to come in gasps. 'I could never-. He would never-. He would find me. He would-.' He pressed a finger to her lips, quieting her. She had been on the verge of panicking. The thought of what he would do. He had told her many times. 'If you ever try to leave, or take Sasha away….' She couldn’t even complete the thought. It was too terrible.
'I know things about your husband, Mr Podruznig.'
'What… sort of… things?'
'What he does… to you.' She felt herself beginning to blush. 'And about… the girls.' Reddening even faster, she shook her head, trying to blank it out.
'I can help you Mrs Podruznig.'
She looked up at him sharply. 'What makes you think I need your help?'
He waited what seemed a long time before answering. 'Are you saying you don’t?'
She swallowed. So many things whizzing through her mind all at once. Shock. Fear. Hope.
She bowed her head, looking at the floor, biting her lip. She looked up into his face. It was a strong, kind face. A face that for the first time in a long time - and in entirely different circumstances - she may even be tempted to kiss. 'Why would you help me?'
He smiled at her. A nice smile as well.
'Because I think you may be able to help me.'
'Help you? How?'
Ivan had had enough. This was becoming ridiculous. It was bad enough having to hang around listening to their gossip, the stupid kids’ babbling, never mind waiting all this time while she takes a dump, changes her towel, whatever. He marched over to Max.
'Well?'
'She said she’d be down in a minute.'
'That was five minutes ago. What’s she doing up there?'
'How do I know? She’s talking to herself.'
Ivan stiffened. 'What do you mean, talking to herself?'
'I don’t know I just heard her, talking to herself.'
'On her phone?' Ivan looked back to where she was sitting. It wouldn’t be the first time she had tried to contact her family without permission. But her mobile was where she’d left it, on the table.
Ria saw them looking, got up, came over.
'Is Marianna alright? She seems to be taking a long time?'
Ivan regarded Max as if he were a simpleton.
'Talking to herself?’ He shook his head, disdain showing. ‘Come on.'
The pair mounted the stairs.
As they reached the top, Max thought he heard a scuffling noise. Ivan stopped at the door marked with a woman’s outline, knocked once, hard.
'Mrs Podruznig?'
Silence.
'Mrs Podruznig?' He tried the door. It was locked.
'Mrs Podruznig?' Louder now, growing urgent.
He stepped back, about to throw his weight against the door, when it opened. She was standing in front of the mirror putting the finishing touches to her hair. She turned to give the two men a scolding look.
'Really. Can I not be left in peace while I put right what the wind has done to my hair?'
Ivan looked at her, blinking, unsure what to say. Her hair had seemed alright to him. And far as he could remember there’d been only the lightest of breezes when they arrived. But Hell, what did he know about women’s hair?
Jamming her comb back into her handbag she stepped out, giving them both a final, withering look.
'Men.'
As she stomped downstairs, Ivan muttered to Max. 'Whore-bitch.'
From the top of the stairs, Max watched his team leader follow her down, before disappearing into the bar. He turned, looking across the landing at the door to the ladies, now closed. Re-tracing his steps he stopped outside again. Taking a breath, he pushed against the door. It swung open. The washroom was empty, the door to the inner cubicle pushed closed. He stepped inside.
Standing back from the cubicle, he reached inside his waistband, ready, just in case. Then he gave the door to the cubicle a hard shove and tensed. The door swung back with a bang to reveal, nothing. Max relaxed.
He took one last look around then, satisfied everything was as it had been when he checked it before she came in, he turned to head back downstairs. He didn’t look up. Even if he had, all he would have seen was a closed skylight.
Downstairs, Ria scoffed at Marianna’s complaint about the wind ruining her hair. What wind?
'Nonsense, Maria. It’s fine. In fact, it’s gorgeous. You are becoming too fussy about such things. That is what happens when you have too much time on your hands. You must get out more.'
Marianna smiled at her friend, showing how grateful she was for her supportive comments.
In reality, Ria’s well-meaning words barely registered. Rather, Marianna’s attention was all on Sasha as, laughing and smiling she showed her best friend, Anna, her new mobile. And as she watched the beautiful little girl with the pixie nose and long blond hair, all she could think about was her future, their future, what he had said to her, and what he had asked her to do.
CHAPTER 25
The black Samsung was Podruznig’s ‘business’ phone. He was surprised therefore when the voice he didn’t recognise said, 'It doesn’t matter who I am, just shut up and listen.' This in reply to his demand the caller identify himself. Not taken to following orders - certainly not from some idiot who thinks he’s safe on the other end of a phone - Podruznig put even more into sounding threatening than usual.
'No one talks to me like that. How did you get this number? I’ll-.'
'You’ll do nothing. And if you want to find the man you’re looking for, you’ll shut the fuck up, RIGHT NOW.'
Podruznig had learned long ago how not to miss an opportunity, however it may be packaged. Biting back words, he clamped his lips together. He would deal with whoever this prick was in due course.
'That’s better. Now, have you got a pen?'
As Podruznig listened and scribbled, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t ask how the man knew what he was telling him, or how he even knew of his interest. He didn’t care. All men have enemies. Had it not been so, he could never have achieved so much in such a relatively short lifetime. And by the time the caller rang off, Podruznig had managed to put aside thoughts about discovering his identity and how he’d managed to get his closely-guarded number - for now at least.
For minutes he stood there, phone in hand, not moving, face turned to the sea, sparkling away, peacefully, beyond the curved windows. His eyes were glazed as the thought-processes the call had set in motion whirred and clashed, as they always did when something excited him. And the information the caller had imparted was, definitely, exciting.
'URI,' he yelled, eventually, still not turning.
Seco
nds later, the wooden doors opened. Lantzeff stood there, primed, waiting.
'Get Shokov here. Now.'
Though surprised to receive such an order without having been party to any prior discussion, Uri didn’t question why Shokov was needed. Given the Muscovite’s particular area of expertise, the answer to the question was self-evident. And given recent events, Uri could think of only one target towards whom Shokov’s skills may be directed. But he did wonder what had happened to prompt such a command? Nevertheless, he didn’t probe. That would appear weak. An acknowledgement that on this occasion, his boss’s resources may have proved more effective than his own. Instead he nodded once, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Wasting no time, Lantzeff made his way, swiftly, to the basement command centre. From there he could not only begin the task of tracking Shokov down – the last he’d heard he was involved in something in Madrid - he could also re-run the CCTV footage to see what had happened in the run up to him being summoned. He was all but certain it had to be a phone call. There had been no visitors that morning, and Podruznig wasn’t the sort to sit around contemplating options once he had enough information to come to a decision.
A few minutes later, as Lantzeff watched his employer taking the call on his mobile, the duty operator, one of the Ukrainians, confirmed it was the only one in the previous fifteen minutes.
Lantzeff congratulated himself on his foresight in convincing Podruznig that it was in his own and, especially, his family’s interests, to allow the whole house to be monitored, twenty-four-seven. The camera in their bedroom was, of course, fitted with an ‘off’ switch, though Lantzeff was now convinced that given the regularity with which Podruznig 'forgot' to switch it off, he had to be deriving some perverted pleasure from knowing that the ‘games’ he got his wife to play every now and then were not only being witnessed, but also recorded. And despite his low regard for her, Lantzeff was equally certain that she was wholly ignorant that her humiliations were being so captured. Slut though she undoubtedly was, even she would be horrified if she ever learned what went on in the Command Centre those times her husband chose to let those working for him see how adept he could be at bending her to his will. Lantzeff was just glad that, so far as he knew, none of the recordings had appeared on-line yet. Given their content, it was only a matter of time. He sometimes wondered what Podruznig’s reaction would be if and when he found out. Outrage, followed by retribution, swift and brutal, would fit the usual pattern. But given the way Podruznig seemed to be almost deliberately leaving the way open for such a betrayal, Lantzeff was no longer so sure.
A Killing Place in the Sun Page 13