by AA Abbott
“As a suave man about town would, to impress the ladies,” Amy said, seemingly unimpressed. Whatever Ross may have been to her in the past, she evidently didn’t care much for him now. “As long as it’s white and dry, I’ll drink it.”
Just south of the BT Tower, Fitzrovia’s streets were mostly quiet and residential, but there were a few roads lined with media companies and buzzing bars. Friday night queues were already beginning. Without a booking, they were lucky to find seats in a new Mexican café around the corner from the flat.
“I can’t believe the prices,” Amy admitted, after they’d ordered enchiladas and a pitcher of margaritas. “They’re double what I’d pay in Birmingham.”
“We’ll stick it on my credit card. Ross pays it off every month,” Kat said. Her engagement ring sparkled in the candlelight, another reminder of her fiancé’s wealth and her dependence on him. “So, tell me all about the baby,” she commanded. “Isn’t it exciting?”
“I can’t wait to see him,” Amy said. “It was a shock when Dad told me, though. Even now, it doesn’t feel real. Most people have months to look forward to the arrival of a sibling. When I meet George tomorrow, I’ll have had a week.”
“You said it was a surprise to your father too,” Kat pointed out.
“Yes, he’d split up with Dee, and she didn’t tell him until she went into labour.” Amy gulped her margarita. “I guess she was cross with him. It’s ironic that he left her because he didn’t want to be tied down, but now he’s pining for her and she won’t take him back.”
“That’s too bad,” Kat said. “I thought you wanted him to get together with your mum again.”
“There’s no chance of that,” Amy said. “They’ve both moved on.”
Kat squeezed her hand. “At least you’ve still got both your parents.”
Amy returned the squeeze and topped up Kat’s glass. “Have another drink.”
The margaritas led inevitably to champagne back at the flat. Ross had indulged in a dual temperature wine fridge, stashing twelve bottles of Dom Pérignon in the cooler section.
Amy looked appreciative. “That’s eye-wateringly expensive. Ross won’t mind, will he?” she asked.
“He can afford it,” Kat said, pulling the cork and lavishly filling two flutes with bubbles. “Bottoms up!” They were soon giggling like schoolgirls.
“This is just like the old days,” Amy said.
“It was Prosecco then,” Kat said. “And vodka.” She sighed. “We never really spoke about Snow Mountain, did we? Has Erik said anything about it?”
“Only that he wished you’d forget it,” Amy said. “He was really upset when he found out you’d gone back to Bazakistan, especially without Ross.”
Kat poured herself more champagne. She knew Erik was right. “It was my dream to get the vodka distillery back,” she said. “I used to hang around there all the time as a child. The engineers explained how the plant worked. My father’s secretary showed me letters from foreign celebrities saying how much they enjoyed drinking Snow Mountain. I truly believed it was my destiny to make vodka and travel the world as an ambassador for the product.” She sniffed. Champagne usually lifted her mood, but not now. Tears were threatening. “Erik’s right, of course. Kireniat isn’t safe. My parents died. I was kidnapped. I can’t get ownership of Snow Mountain, and I’m lucky to be alive. I have to let my dream go.”
“Could you make vodka here, in London?” Amy asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m thinking. You can distil it anywhere with the right equipment,” Kat mused. “Marty said he could make it in Birmingham. I presumed he was joking.”
“Marty’s sharp,” Amy said. “I enjoy working for him, actually. He’s a good boss, not like the slave driver I had at Veritable Insurance.” She grimaced. “You seemed to detest him before, but he helped you escape from those terrorists in Bazakistan, didn’t he? Do you still hate him?”
“I don’t know,” Kat admitted. “I’d have gone insane in that cell without him. His sense of humour was all that made it bearable. And then…”
Remembering Ulan, she shivered. Marty hadn’t hesitated to fight him, despite being drugged. He’d been there when she needed him, but not for her parents. She shook her head, frowning. “I had to trust him then, but I can’t forget what he did in the past. He let my parents die simply to save his business. Erik’s naïve to put any faith in him.”
“Erik and Marty have different priorities,” Amy said. “Neither of them is perfect. Erik’s a talented scientist, but he’s also a saint, and that’s no way to earn living.”
Kat rolled her eyes. “He was always altruistic.”
“Precisely,” Amy said, “And Marty’s very focused on money, but they’ve figured out how to work together. You know, Marty’s basically kind-hearted. I can’t believe he wouldn’t have tried to save your parents.”
Kat pursed her lips. “Can we talk about something else?” she asked. Maybe she’d been wrong about Marty. She was beginning to think it wasn’t her only mistake. “Let’s open another bottle,” she suggested.
The second bottle slipped down as easily as the first. Ross would never miss it. There were another ten just like it in the fridge.
The predictable consequence was a hangover on Saturday morning. Kat staggered out of bed at ten, only thinking to shake Amy awake once she’d dosed herself with Nurofen and black coffee from Ross’ state of the art espresso machine. “What time are you seeing your father?” she asked.
“OMG,” Amy said. “In five minutes.” She named the coffee shop where they’d arranged to meet. Fortunately, it was on Charlotte Street.
“Look, I’ll pop down there to meet and greet him,” Kat said breezily. “Grab some ibuprofen, and join us when you’re ready to face the world.”
“That’ll be next week,” Amy complained.
Kat relented. “I’ll make you a coffee first. And stick some lippie on. I always say, if you look good, you feel good.”
The meeting place was modish, its walls bare brick, the décor faux-industrial. Kat easily recognised Charles. They’d enjoyed a cigarette together outside the Savoy at Saxton Brown’s Christmas party, a select but rather grand affair.
“Amy’s on her way,” she said, before he had a chance to ask. “Congratulations about the baby.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Can I get you anything?” He gestured to the counter, where beans from a single estate in Ecuador were fed into a grinder to order. Slate boards, prices chalked on them, displayed croissants and cakes.
Kat, who had subsisted on coffee and fresh air for most of her adult life, was suddenly hungry. She ordered a flaky pain au chocolat.
“So,” Charles said. “I suppose you’re glad to be back home with Ross?”
“He’s hardly been here,” Kat said ruefully.
Charles’ glance was knowing. “Of course. Anwen sent him to Bermuda, and then there’s the stag party. I suppose he’s a bit embarrassed as well. He’d hoped to bring you back from Bazakistan sooner, but his negotiation tactics didn’t work.”
Kat froze. “What tactics were those?”
“Based on poker,” Charles said. “He called their bluff and said he wouldn’t pay.”
Hastily, he added, “He didn’t mean a word of it, I can assure you. They wanted ten million for you, though, and Ross was going to struggle to lay his hands on that within a week. Why, even Dee couldn’t do it.”
“Really? Hasn’t she made a fortune from online yoga?” Kat asked, not really interested in Dee, but hoping to draw the conversation away from Ross. Inwardly, she fumed at being treated like a pawn in a card game.
“Yes, her business is massive,” Charles said. “Dee built it from nothing, you know. When she left school, she worked as an aerobics instructor and personal trainer. She was smart enough to see a market for videos and DVDs, and now online streaming.”
“How inspirational,” Kat said.
There was palpable pride in Charles’ voice as he talked abou
t Dee. Kat was surprised. Ross never spoke about her in that tone. “I guess you still see a lot of Dee?” she asked.
“Not as much as I’d like,” Charles said. “Amy wouldn’t want me to say this, and I’m very fond of her mother, naturally, but Dee was the love of my life. I behaved badly towards her, and she’s punishing me for it now.” He sighed. “I’ve only seen her and George on a handful of occasions since his birth. She’s agreed to a visit today merely because Amy’s travelled a hundred miles to see them.”
“Why aren’t you talking like this to Dee?” Kat asked, feeling awkward in her role as Charles’ confessor. On impulse, she pulled the diamond engagement ring off her finger. “Propose marriage to her if that’s the way you feel about her.”
He laughed. “That’s what all you girls want, is it?”
“Sometimes it’s the right thing to do,” she said. Other times, it wasn’t. “Go on, take the ring. As long as it’s back before Ross, what’s the harm?”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Charles said. He glanced at the door. “Is that Amy? We’d better be off to Primrose Hill.”
His daughter arrived, hangover apparently banished. She was clutching a bunch of white roses in a supermarket bag.
“Ready?” Charles asked, hugging Amy.
Kat winked at him.
Chapter 38
Kat
Kat gave them two hours before texting Amy. “What did Dee say?” she asked.
Amy texted back, “She’s thinking about it. How did you know?”
Kat grinned. She didn’t really care, actually, whether the ring was returned promptly or not.
She hadn’t told Amy everything about Bazakistan. Until her abduction, she’d thought Ross was crazy about her. He’d support her, no matter what happened. Ken and Ulan had seemed convinced Ross wouldn’t pay her ransom, though. Of course, as soon as she’d told Ross afterwards, he’d denied it outright. He’d said it was a misunderstanding. It was odd that misunderstandings, like the existence of Amy’s baby brother, so often turned out to be true.
Marriage suited some couples, like her parents. It might suit Charles and Dee. Anyone could see he loved her. When you found the right partner, it was for life.
If you harboured the tiniest seed of doubt about your lover, though, you’d be a fool to tie yourself to them forever. It didn’t matter how rich, clever and handsome they were; how treacherous your emotions when you looked into their deep blue eyes. Kat thought of that seed growing first into a sapling, then a tree, its tendrils seizing and strangling the love in a marriage.
When Charles returned the ring, she would pawn it. She began to consider what her other possessions would fetch. There was a wardrobe full of designer dresses that would sell easily. Regretfully, Kat recalled the beautiful, filmy fabrics, and the fun she’d had on each champagne-fuelled night when she’d worn them. Later, she would make sure to show them off to Amy and take a few selfies. The memories would see her through hard times. She’d been poor before, and now, when she left Ross, she’d be poor again. It wouldn’t last forever, though. Charles might even decide he owed her a favour, and invest in her new business.
Once her goods were sold, she’d use the cash to train as a distiller. After all, she could make vodka anywhere. Marty had taught her that. One day, Kat’s very own premium vodka brand would rival Snow Mountain.
The doorbell rang. Kat switched on the intercom.
“It’s Amy,” a familiar voice said.
“Great,” Kat replied. “I’m glad you’ve left the lovebirds behind. Wait down there. We’ll go to Charlotte Street and you can give me the latest.”
She still had plenty to tell Amy, too. Donning her spikiest stilettos before leaving the flat, Kat used the lift’s mirrored walls to apply her brightest lipstick.
“I know a bar that does a mean vodka martini,” she told Amy. “Coming?”
THE END
Thank you for reading The Vodka Trail - I hope you enjoyed it! I’d really appreciate it if you’d tell your friends by leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or your blog.
I’d love to stay in touch with you, too. Sign up for my newsletter at http://aaabbott.co.uk and I’ll send you a free e-book of short stories. You’ll also receive news about forthcoming books and live fiction events. I hope you can get to one; it would be wonderful to meet you.
You can also find me on Twitter (@AAAbbottStories) and Facebook, so please connect with me there.
You may also like my other books:
Up In Smoke – a thrilling tale of Big Tobacco, spies and smuggers
After The Interview – when business gets very personal…
The Bride’s Trail – who will find Kat first – her friends, or her killer?
The Grass Trail – it’s the highest-security prison in England – but Shaun’s desperate to escape…
Please check them out!
A.A. Abbott
THANK YOU TO MY TEAM!
It’s been a momentous year, and I miss three beautiful souls who can never read this book: Liz Ascott, Eileen Elsey, and Linda Wilson. I thank them for being part of my life.
Thanks also to everyone who helped me turn The Vodka Trail from a simple idea into an exciting thriller. You know who you are ??
A.A. Abbott
Contents
Prologue - 1991
Chapter 1 Kat
Chapter 2 Marty
Chapter 3 Davey
Chapter 4 Marty
Chapter 5 Davey
Chapter 6 Marty
Chapter 7 Davey
Chapter 8 Kat
Chapter 9 Davey
Chapter 10 Kat
Chapter 11 Marty
Chapter 12 Kat
Chapter 13 Ken
Chapter 14 Marty
Chapter 15 Ken
Chapter 16 Marty
Chapter 17 Kat
Chapter 18 Marty
Chapter 19 Davey
Chapter 20 Marty
Chapter 21 Davey
Chapter 22 Marty
Chapter 23 Davey
Chapter 24 Davey
Chapter 25 Kat
Chapter 26 Marty
Chapter 27 Ken
Chapter 28 Marty
Chapter 29 Kat
Chapter 30 Marty
Chapter 31 Marty
Chapter 32 Kat
Chapter 33 Marty
Chapter 34 Davey
Chapter 35 Marty
Chapter 36 Davey
Chapter 37 Kat
Chapter 38 Kat