The Grayson Trilogy

by Georgia Rose

  With Orlov’s head so close to mine as he answered the call I could hear Trent’s voice anyway, but Orlov obligingly flicked it on to loudspeaker so I got the full benefit of Trent’s threats as to what he would do to him if he hurt me.

  “I have no intention of hurting her, Trent. I’m very much looking forward to making her mine. Among other things, Trent, we share the same taste in women. I can feel her body against mine, firm as I like it, but soft in all the right places.” My flesh crawled with fear. “Of course, I can’t be held responsible for what will happen when I have had enough of her and give her to my boys.”

  I knew he was smiling as he taunted Trent and I didn’t want to think about what my future might hold.

  “I’m coming to get you, Emma.” Trent’s words were fiercely spoken, though futile, knowing what I knew and he didn’t. Then his tone turned deadly. “And you, Orlov.” The phone went dead.

  Orlov chuckled behind me. “Ah, Emma, life with me won’t be so very different, you know. Trent and I, we are like the same.”

  “He is nothing like you, he would never behave like you do,” I spat.

  His voice came back roughly. “Oh, don’t kid yourself, Emma, he is just like me, and he behaves just like me. You are a fool if you don’t believe that.”

  As we caught up with the others, the chest was pushed to the side and the door opened as Orlov looked to check all was clear. I tried to pull my head back to give someone the chance to blow his off, but no one did. I couldn’t believe they were going to be able to walk out of here, though I guessed it was hardly likely anyone would take a chance on shooting with us being used as shields.

  We stepped out into the wall of sound that came from the aircraft, although we couldn’t see it yet, and started towards the way out of the courtyard. Dawn was coming; it was still a long way off, but the depth of colour in the sky had lightened. I could hear the whip of the blades turning, the sound increasing as we passed through the entrance, and I gasped as I took my first look at the strangest aircraft I’d ever seen. Its grey body was shaped like that of a large helicopter, but it had plane-like wings attached in one long spread across the top of the fuselage. On the end of each wing was mounted a large vertical distorted ovoid like a misshapen pod with a set of shortened helicopter blades fixed to the top. I’d never seen such a thing before.

  I watched as Ugly, carrying Grace, herded the children along in front of us. Panic rose in me as I tried to resist, my heels digging in, scuffing up gravel and dirt as I scrabbled for purchase. Orlov, feeling my resistance, increased the hold he had on me. My hands, balled into fists, were uncomfortably trapped between our bodies, the cable tie biting into my skin, my shoulders strained from having my hands tied behind me. He forced me towards the plane, lifting my feet from the ground as he half-carried me, still struggling, cursing as he growled in my ear, “Be still.”

  As we approached the side steps, the back of the plane started opening, gaping as if it yawned. I tried to watch what was happening, but Orlov kept my head tipped to one side with the knife at my throat. I could only see from the corner of my eye, but it was enough, and I saw a body as it tumbled out of the gap and fell heavily on to the grass. There was no further movement. A sob caught in my throat in horror as Orlov continued, against my renewed struggles, in his battle to get me on the plane.

  And then I saw him. Trent. I saw him as he leapt out of the pickup even before it came to a halt inside the treeline. A silhouette against the headlights that I would recognise anywhere, closely followed by others who dashed to catch him when he didn’t stop. They grabbed his arms as he lunged towards me, and held him back under the protection of the trees. Even from this distance I could feel his fury. My own anger rose up in reaction to Orlov’s chuckle, his hot breath against my neck. I willed Trent to stay put, to stay safe.

  We’d reached the steps. Ugly had already taken Grace and the children through the doorway and I continued to make life difficult for Orlov by bracing my feet against the steps. Orlov had had enough. I felt the sting of his blade slicing through the skin of my neck, the sharp pain bringing tears to my eyes as I cried out. My legs weakened and Orlov seized the opportunity to force me through the door and into the bare shell of a plane. Grey and utilitarian, it was fitted with a row of basic bench-type seating down each side. Ugly had taken Grace and the children to the furthest bench, and Grace had been laid out along the seating, a lap belt round her waist to keep her in place. I saw him roughly push each of the children on to the bench next to her, and they sat, pale and frightened.

  Orlov ordered me to sit on the bench opposite and I did so. There was little point in resisting now. My arm was throbbing and my neck stung where he’d cut me, but I was pleased to see by his laboured breathing that he’d had to exert himself manhandling me on to the plane. I knew there was still a glimmer of hope for us because he had my phone in his pocket and we could be tracked from that. But as if he’d read my thoughts, he pulled the phone out of his pocket, and threw it out of the door before slamming it closed. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me throughout, and now smiled at the disappointment I couldn’t hide.

  That was that then. The fight went out of me and my head dropped in despair. He crouched on his haunches in front of me, his knees each side of mine as he lifted my chin. I tried not to flinch away from him as he murmured, “Never mind, Emma, you can forget Trent. Now you are mine, and I know how to look after you.” He reached out to me. I did flinch this time, but he merely picked up the two halves of my lap belt and clicked them closed across my lap. Then he stood up and crossed to the small door at the front. Glancing back, his eyes met mine briefly, then defeated I looked away, dropping my gaze before he disappeared into the cockpit, satisfied, knowing I was beaten.

  But it would be a long time before I was that.

  Chapter 9

  The light was dim in the enclosed space, the air damp and cold. I looked over at the children, trying to give them a comforting smile. “It’s all right,” I lied, “your Dad and Trent and all the others are going to come and find us. We’ll be fine.” I hoped I sounded more convincing than I felt. They didn’t respond. I told them how to do up their lap belts, which gave them something to do for a few moments, but they were soon still again and there was nothing more I could think of.

  Ugly was staying with us, which was a shame. He’d taken up a standing position by the cockpit door as soon as Orlov had passed through it, and almost immediately I heard the engine noise increase, and as we started to lift from the ground I slumped back on the bench. Struggling with Orlov had caused me to break out in a sweat again, but already I was cooling, the chill of the air stripping the heat from my body. The cable tie had bitten into the skin of my wrists as I’d fought against Orlov, and I could feel my skin chafed and stinging as sweat mingled with blood. I unclamped my fingers from around the object Sophia had forced into my hand, having to clench and unclench the fingers of alternate hands to force movement back into them. By the feel of it, I recognised the object as one of the multitools I had given to the children for Christmas. Sophia was looking at me, and checking Ugly wasn’t watching I mouthed at her, “Well done!” I was pleased to see the glimmer of a smile touch her lips.

  In the handle of the multitool was a blade, and I tried to ease it out of its casing. My fingers were slippery, though I wasn’t sure what with, hoping for sweat rather than blood. Trying to stay still and appear as if I was behaving myself for Ugly’s sake, my fingers worked as quickly as they could. I got the blade out, then turned the tool in my hand until I was sure I had the blade up against the cable tie. Though it was at an awkward angle, I started moving my hand up and down, concentrating on the task of cutting through. I had to rest every couple of minutes because my hand kept cramping. I had to stretch it out, wiggle my fingers, and then find the place where I’d started to make a notch and start again, unable to put as much force against the cable as I wanted to because of the angle I had to hold it. After what felt like an excruciat
ingly long time I suddenly felt the tie loosen. I managed to catch and hold it in my fingers so it didn’t drop through the gap in the seat to the floor and give me away. I sat for a moment before folding the blade away, and tucked the tool and the cable tie into the top of my jodhpurs. Now I needed to bide my time. I surreptitiously looked around to see what I had at my disposal. It wasn’t a lot. Unsurprisingly everything was bolted down, and there wasn’t a handy supply of obvious weapons available. I would have to be creative.

  I kept my arms behind me, flexing my wrists and hands while I watched Ugly. The engine noise in our section was a loud continual droning. I could feel the reverberations of the engines coming through the floor, and although it had always been cold in here, it was now getting colder. The aircraft looked like it was used for troop transportation and there didn’t appear to be much by way of insulation or any other comforts. I wondered how long we would be flying for. I wondered who else would be in the cockpit beside Orlov. I thought there would probably only be one. Three of them in all. My timing would have to be good.

  I’d kept a close eye on Grace and saw the first signs of her coming round. Her eyelids flickered, then opened quickly and widened in alarm as she tried to make sense of where she was. The children realised she was awake, Sophia crying as she tried to hug her. Grace took in the noise, the vibration, the cold. She groaned as she tried to sit up too quickly, struggling in her attempts to do so with her hands tied. I mouthed the words “Are you all right?” She nodded vacantly, still pretty much out of it. She looked around, saw Ugly, her eyes flicking away from him, and automatically comforted the children who cuddled up close. I closed my eyes, feeling a sudden pang of loss and of being alone.

  We’d been flying for perhaps half an hour when Ugly suddenly turned and pulled open the cockpit door. It appeared he’d been summoned, though how he could have heard anyone calling over the level of noise in this small space was beyond me. The door blocked me from his sight as he leaned into the cockpit, and I took my chance. I leapt up, my legs unsteady as I grabbed the small fire extinguisher, ripping it out of the strapping that held it beside the door, and moved towards Ugly, standing behind him so as to be ready. With all we’d already been through, I felt weak and concerned I wouldn’t have enough strength. There would be no second chances – he would be on me in a shot, and that thought alone was enough to make me feel like jelly. My reactions were slow, and so deep was I in my thoughts I almost missed the moment. Whatever exchange he’d been having with the pilots had ended. He’d withdrawn his head from the doorway and was closing the door. I waited until it clicked shut, then brought the fire extinguisher smashing down on the back of his head. Nothing happened. He just froze. Oh God, I hadn’t hit him hard enough! Then, almost in slow motion, his knees collapsed and he fell like a tree in a forest, out cold.

  I worked quickly, taking his gun away, then checking through his pockets. I found a bundle of cable ties, and it was satisfying to bind his wrists and ankles, drag him across the floor and use more ties to attach him to the struts under the bench seats opposite Grace and the children.

  I went over to the others. Grace was looking a little brighter, and I hugged Sophia and Reuben who were more responsive now, though they looked tearstained and exhausted. I cut the cable tie binding Grace’s hands, and after rubbing her wrists and moving her shoulders to ease the stiffness, she used one hand to steady herself. The other she brought to her head, which must have been pounding, and carefully felt her wound, the blood encrusted in her hair. I told them all to try and keep warm, then filled them in on my plan. Grace hugged the children closer to her, and I gave them the job of keeping an eye on Ugly.

  I had no idea how the next part of my plan would work out, but I couldn’t think of any other option, so I picked up the fire extinguisher again and stood ready behind the cockpit door, hoping that someone would eventually come through it.

  I waited, and waited, becoming more and more impatient, knowing that with every moment that passed that we were travelling further and further from home. I wondered what would happen if I forced the situation and went into the cockpit. Could I deal with both men before one of them disabled me? I didn’t think it was a feasible solution, but the thoughts and plans kept going round and round in my head.

  Shouts came from the other side of the door. Startled, I realised that in my exhaustion I’d nearly fallen asleep on my feet and missed the moment I’d been waiting for: the moment where Ugly would be wanted, and when he didn’t come, someone would come looking for him. It was simple. The best plans always were. What could possibly go wrong? I asked myself.

  More shouts, and I stood ready, thinking of the timing, the door opening, hoping whoever came through it wouldn’t turn as they closed the door and see me. I braced myself as I saw the handle move. The door flew open. Whoever was coming through it was not happy. He stopped abruptly, slamming the door shut, seeing Grace and the children who sat up straight, alarmed at his entrance. Before he had a chance to see Ugly, I hit him, with the same result. He toppled and fell at the feet of Grace and the children.

  It wasn’t Orlov, which was a pity. I didn’t really want to have to confront him, and that was the next part of the plan, but putting that out of my mind for the moment I bound my second victim of the night and relieved him of his gun.

  I had a couple of weapons to choose from now, but had no idea which would be the best to use, or even if either of them had any bullets in them. Having nothing else to go on I went with eeny meeny miny mo before picking the bigger and heavier one, hoping I wouldn’t have to fire it.

  The children gave me thumbs up signs, and I was spurred on. Grace asked if she could do anything to help, and while I admired and was encouraged by her determination, she was in no condition for action so I shook my head. Turning to face the door, I took a deep breath and grabbed the handle. I opened it as sharply as the last man had, stepped inside and closed it firmly behind me. Ignoring everything else, I focused on Orlov, who barked out something which sounded like a curse, but he didn’t bother to turn round, so confident was he that we had all been neutralised. I stood still, holding the gun like I’d seen tough people do in films, two-handed and straight-armed, hoping I looked more confident than I felt and that my rigid stance would stop my knees shaking. My hands were clammy on the gun.

  Obviously wondering why his co-pilot hadn’t taken his seat, Orlov glanced back. His eyes widened as he saw me, then, quickly regaining his composure, he said calmly, “It seems I underestimated you, Emma.”

  “Yes...and now you are mine.” I hoped my voice didn’t come out as weak and feeble as I was feeling. It sounded okay.

  “What are you expecting of me?”

  “I’m expecting you to turn this plane around and return to Melton.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “I can make you do that.” I waved the gun slightly as if maybe he hadn’t noticed I was holding it.

  “You think so? I don’t, Emma. I don’t think you would fire that in here. That would be dangerous for all of you.”

  I thought about it. I’d heard of people being sucked out of planes when windows were broken. Was that true, or merely a myth? I didn’t know, and didn’t want to find out. I tried one last time.

  “Turn the plane around.”

  “No.” He hesitated, as if coming to a decision before continuing, and he sounded resigned. “Emma, you don’t know the people I work for. I can’t return without the hostages. If I turned round now that would be seen as a failure and certain death for me. So, I either continue on our fixed course or...if you force the situation I take this plane down, and at least my death will be at my own hand.”

  Shock was not the word for what I felt then. I hadn’t anticipated the fact that Grace, the children and I were trapped in a plane with a suicidal madman. As my great plan splintered around me, I saw his hand move, reaching for something. A weapon? I lunged at him, yelling “Neither scenario works for me,” and whacked him on the side of the
head. It wasn’t like taking out the others with the extinguisher – that had seemed at a distance, somehow. Now up close I could feel the heat of his body, his hair on my fingers as the gun made contact once, twice...and he was still.

  Shaking, I collapsed to my knees, nausea rising as I retched, my poor empty stomach unable to provide anything to throw up.

  What the hell was I going to do now? I hadn’t imagined this ending at all. In my happy-ever-after, Orlov was going to fly us all back home safely and then be locked away forever.

  No time to dwell on that now. I needed to get a grip, and I struggled back to my exhausted feet. Quick assessment: unconscious man in cockpit but plane still flying as if nothing had happened, so I reasoned it must be on autopilot. We were therefore okay for the time being. Second quick assessment: Grace, though willing, was not yet with it; quite understandable, but not particularly helpful in the current situation. The children were, of course, children, and therefore not of much help with what was needed. So that left me to sort this out. The responsibility I’d felt all night continued to weigh heavy.

  First things first: get Orlov out of the cockpit. It would be tough, but I didn’t want him in there. Even if I tied him up, it would be distracting if he regained consciousness. I removed the headset he was wearing and put it down on his far side. Reaching across him I released his harness and pulled it down over his arms. Standing behind his seat, I put my hands under his armpits, and then shoved my arms under before wrapping them across his chest as I locked my hands together, his head lolling against mine. I braced myself, then hauled with all my might, feeling his body lift, getting it on to the armrest. I suddenly felt resistance and stopped to regain my breath. Taking the weight of his upper body across my chest I reached under him, feeling along the armrest. His pocket had snared on the end. I released it, then stood back up and took the strain again. His body came towards me in a rush now he was over the pivotal point, his backside crashing to the floor, his legs following, floppy and long. If this treatment didn’t wake him up, I didn’t know what would. I had to tie him up as quickly as possible. I dragged him to the door, kicking it wide as I pulled him through before depositing him on the floor. Collapsing to my knees beside him, I gasped for breath as my chest heaved with the effort.