Russia 9 - The Thames

Chapter 8 here ... Chapter 10 here

HOME


I

Next morning was too magnificent for words and in London you learn to take advantage of opportunities like that.

Hugh’s resolution to lay low and fully recuperate simply flew out the window, Greenwich demanded a stroll and anyway, there were always people on that route and there was safety in numbers.

The stroll up Tranquil Vale and onto the heath took it out of him a bit but he crossed the grass, past some sort of kite flying convention, to the A2, crossed that and went past the donkey rides, in through the main gates and down the main tract, over the ridge, past the observatory and there was Greenwich in the distance.

With half the job done, he took a breather and sat under a tree, considering it good to be alive.

Now the last stretch before the lower gate and he was across the road and into the village proper.

Walking into the TexMex café now, thirty seconds before he did, was Frederika, on the arm of a nasty looking bruiser. The adrenalin rising, Hugh followed his would-be killer, as her beefy minder ordered some nachos and guacamole.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself on the footpath leading to the riverside, ten metres behind Frederika and the Side of Beef, who was deep in conversation with her. That little murderess with the masses of dark hair was a honey, there were no two ways about that.

He didn’t hold with the cold-blooded execution of another human, even if she had tried to snuff out his life. He didn’t hold with even the slightest degree of maiming or scarring or any other deeply satisfying revenge, for that matter either. But he did want to shock the hell out of her and he did want to make love to her.

The thought ran through his mind that she was aware of him and was keeping him within range for a second shot at finishing the job. If so, they’d have to decoy him to a quiet area but two could play at that game. Funny how anger could drive out fear, wasn’t it?

He was going to force the issue.

As she and the guy turned into the undercover market, he had to concede that this was an excellent blind for splitting, doubling back and catching him unawares. This could be the end and he didn’t want to die yet - he had things to do first.

But now they didn’t seem to be splitting up and were well within view and looking through things on a vendor’s stall with little apparent awareness of what was going on around them. Was her intelligence that he was still in the hospital? Or maybe in Lea Terrace?

He saw a replica derringer on a vendor’s stall and slapped a tenner down before the man could raise a gasp, then swung into the crowd and bored his way through to her – they’d already left the market area proper. She took a bit of catching and as he drew closer, he started to get a cooler head.

Yes, he would force the issue but not here, not with that guy around. Then, bless her little cotton socks, she and the guy parted and she headed in the direction of the Cutty Sark, Gypsy Moth and the boats. Hugh scrutinized through 360 degrees and decided to go ahead with it.

Moving up to her right, he simultaneously put his left arm firmly around her, shoved the end of the derringer into her hard, unyielding waist with the other, pointing up towards her heart and hissed into her ear: ‘Keep your eyes up, look like your enjoying the walk with me and keep going in the direction of the boats. We’re going for a little cruise, Frederika, honey.’

She didn’t struggle, she didn’t demur, she just smiled and kept walking, with Hugh attached to her like a limpet. ‘Hugh, you do it so well. Can you handle that gun?’

‘No, not at all. It might go off any second, mightn’t it?’

Her broad feet in the open sandals padded along not unlike a panther’s might and he knew he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

II

Ludmilla Valerievna was more than surprised when the one she considered her opposite number, though hardly in a section such as she administered, agreed to fly to meet her. Ludmilla had taken it as read that the queen never leaves the hive but clearly the French did things differently, at least in Section 37.

She began to wonder if Geneviève was high enough to deal with and whether it might not be better to concentrate on the woman’s superior. Then again, as part of the discussion was going to involve just that superior, she felt it should go ahead as planned. What she could not have known was that Section 37 was an internal section, dealing with specifically French matters and would hardly be of interest in Russia, not even for ransom.

It was agreed that they’d meet at Borovoya Matiushina, the riverside resort, at the dacha of one of her friends. It was defendable from both water and the road and flanked by other houses but best of all, it was built like a bunker during the cold war.

When Geneviève and entourage were dropped at the military drome, a hovercraft collected her and took her downstream to the appointed residence. Marc was already inside.

The luncheon was traditional and ritualized – both Russian and local cuisine - she enjoyed the Moldavian red and gorbusha fish the best.

Now relaxed on one of the two divans, separated by the glass-topped table, interpreters in position, they discussed both their respective problems and tried to find if there was any common ground. They pooled knowledge on Seymour, Deputatov, Marc, Hugh, the girl who’d been hit twice, the mysterious Frenchman in Shadzhara and the woman at the university.

Geneviève came clean on their original aim of following the cash trail and gave as close to an honest account of how far they’d got. Ludmilla spoke of rival companies, of the clinic outside Shadzhara and of attempts to set operatives against one another. There didn’t appear to be any specifically jihadi thing in this nor any anti-Russian thing. It all seemed a commercial matter in the end.

Still, they’d keep an eye on things and agreed to cooperate as far as national interest permitted. On the matter of Dilyara, Ludmilla was of the opinion that precious little would happen now that it was known that security was an interested party.

It had been a good discussion.

They parted with a plan to set up a hotline between the two sections for their mutual benefit.

Marc debriefed Geneviève and it was agreed he’d stay on for some time – everyone back home gave their love. They kissed and parted.

Dilyara was back home, the parents had returned to the forest, the brother had taken the hint once Marc had come back and the two could at last talk, covering many issues, with him fussing around her in a way she said she could get used to.

Then she became serious. ‘We’re no further forward, are we, Marc?

He thought of half a dozen replies but settled, in the end, for ‘No.’

She gazed at him from her propped up position on the divan. ‘Every time I ask you, you never tell me about the women in your life. I’d like to know, Marc.’

He smiled, ‘It’s a very boring topic.’

She waited patiently.

III

Ksenia returned from St. Petersburg with a brother overseas, Hugh also overseas and Ludmilla having entertained French intelligence.

It wasn’t any of her business, any of it, until a colleague told her the Denpasar girl had flown to London with her ‘protégé’, as the others described Hugh. She knew he’d done some reckless things but this just took the biscuit. She contacted Zhenya immediately and was relieved he was on the job already.

She was fretting, walking up and down the corridor, not only on account of his imminent danger but just the whole thing - she hated this. She hated what he was doing and she hated her own feelings about him doing it. It was time to play one of her cards in reserve - she knew Anya's mobile number and as hers was unknown to Anya, the chances were she'd answer.

That's exactly what happened and to say Anya was shocked was an understatement. When she heard that he had gone to London with a killer, fear for Hugh and anger vied for vindication. 'Not a nice feeling, is it, Ksenia?'

'No, it's not.' Ksenia was direct and asked for Lisa's number. Anya would phone. No, it was her job this time, as Anya well knew. Hugh didn't know she knew Anya's number. Anya saw the force of that and then thought it might be good anyway if Ksenia learnt the hard way what it was like to be with Hugh - the uncertainty, the way he went with women. Let her have the worry and humiliation for once. Utter fool Hugh was.

She gave the number, Ksenia thanked her and called Lisa. To say Lisa was shocked and appalled by Hugh was an understatement but what she couldn't understand was that if her brother was seeing her, why Ksenia couldn't have got the number from him, rather than through Anya. How was Anya, by the way?

Ksenia simply hadn't known he'd made contact with Lisa, hadn't thought it one of the possibilities and Anya was fine.

IV

Hugh and Frederika walked on in silence for some time and all the while, out of the corner of his eye, he scrutinized her face for tell tale signs, also keeping an eye half-cocked on where they were going.

Then he caught the vaguest of flickers in her eye and glanced over to the other side of the road, where the buses stop. Yep, it was her guy, pacing them both but also keeping his distance behind them.

One up to me, Hugh thought and then immediately rejected his smugness - that smugness would get him killed.

They remained silent as they continued. Close to the boat came the difficult part. She was given her instructions – how to buy the tickets, what to do and what not to do, what would happen if she defaulted. She behaved impeccably and this worried him even more.

.o0o.

They waited by the quayside, eventually the boat pulled in and the city passengers alighted along the rickety walkway. Now, after their boarding had been completed, Hugh was starting to feel that she was either putting her faith in the other guy or else she was relying on her own professional ability to get out of this.

Hugh withdrew the derringer and they sat by the window, opposite one another.

It came home to him - where was an end to all this? To end it, he’d have to kill her - there was no choice in the matter. Was she playing the odds that he couldn’t do that in cold blood, let alone having no weapon of note? But she could do it in cold blood without the slightest remorse and now she began to look distinctly feline.

Maybe she was going along just to size him up for the kill. Maybe it pleased her, amused her and now he inwardly wavered. Maybe she actually enjoyed this stuff. Maybe it was how she got her thrills. Maybe she no longer had any brief on him.

Maybe a lot of things.

How could a woman get this way? Professionals generally have back up and if they don’t, then they must be pretty darned good. He hated to admit he was dead scared. ‘You feel so good, Frederika, honey. I’d rather be making love to you.’

At that, she glanced across and smiled a not unkind smile. ‘Do you really mean that?’

‘Yes.’

‘After the airport?’

‘Especially after the airport.’

He was feeling more and more foolish with every passing minute but his only chance now was to stick it out. A momentary glance around revealed that, five seats back on the other side of the boat, Side of Beef was nonchalantly looking out of the window – he’d be a mongrel to tangle with.

Nice couple – they deserved one other.

He looked back at her and she was staring straight at him, impassive, a smile playing around the corner of her lips, which was the most unnerving part. Hugh half hoped she’d just jump out of the boat window into the Thames and save them all the trouble of taking this thing to its logical conclusion.

She didn’t jump though - she just obeyed.

Taking his bag with him, Hugh went for a little walk towards the back of the boat, then across and up the other aisle and her eyes followed him in genuine astonishment as he stopped behind her friend’s shoulder, bobbed down and whispered something into his ear.

The guy’s body went stiff, then relaxed. He nodded his understanding.

Hugh continued on to the bar, situated at the front of the passenger area, bought sandwiches and coffee and returned to Frederika, whom he’d kept an eye on the whole time. The guy kept his word and didn’t exchange even a glance with her. Again strange. Why were people obeying him all of a sudden?

Frederika broke her silence. ‘All right Sweety,’ Hugh winced at that, ‘what did you say to him?’ Now it was Hugh’s turn to smile. ‘I’ll know before long,’ she muttered.

‘You’re right there, Sweety,’ returned Hugh. ‘You actually will know before long.’ If that remark had intrigued her, she didn’t show it.

V

‘Girlfriends? Ha.’ Marc was bemused. ‘I was born in Warminster, as you know, went back to Châtelet-en-Brie when I was four, I went to school in Melun but we left again for Grand Bretagne when I was eight and then travelled on and off for years. I didn’t have the chance for a girlfriend which you’d call regular until I was eighteen.’

‘And then you broke loose?

‘There are so many strange ideas about Frenchmen – that we are all fabulous lovers, elegantly dressed, hot tempered, passionate. It’s somewhere there in the national character but we’re just as diverse as you. I’m happiest in my work and that’s not what a girl usually wants to hear. I didn’t have my first lover until I was 29.’

Dilyara concealed her shock. ‘Well, you’ve made up for lost time.’

‘I’ll save you the question, Dilya. Not counting the drunken first time - apart from an aperitif, I don’t drink – I’ve had three lovers, three girlfriends. The last was Mary-Ange and I loved her with a passion. Maybe we look for similar qualities in our lovers but she was not unlike you to look at.’

‘And to hold?’

‘Different. She died and for eight years I’ve looked at no woman seriously, though I’m surrounded by them at work.’

‘Nicolette?’

‘Non, she’s my sister, my friend.’

‘Do you want to speak about Marie-Ange?’

‘Non. But I will.’ He got up from the chair and went to make coffee in the kitchen, bringing back two cups and the pot.

He spoke as he poured. ‘If you were a man, I’d pour out my heart about her but you understand …’ She nodded. ‘She was ordinary, vulnerable, wilful, impossible, wonderful. She loved company, which I don’t. She loved travel, which I can take or leave. She thought I was cruel to neglect her but when I went to work for Mademoiselle, this took much of my time.

Marie-Ange loved me, I am sure of that and I loved her but she wanted me beside her all the time. I don’t know if we’d still be together now if the … well … alors. I can’t say it.’

He sipped on his coffee and gathered himself. ‘Some time after I went to work for the section, some months, there’d been a bad night with Marie-Ange and she’d cried most of it. She was too consuming, too consuming. We parted badly the next morning and I was sharp with her. I turned on my heel and went to work. I was sorry and phoned her late in the morning but she didn’t answer; I knew she’d said she’d be at home that morning.

By lunchtime I could stand it no longer and Mademoiselle told me to go home to mend the situation. I did not have long to wait, once I turned the key in the door. She was on her knees, with her lower legs a little bit out; she was leaning against the divan and her head was resting against the armrest.

There was a hole and blood over her forehead. It was not suicide.’

Dilyara was at a loss. She couldn’t reach him from where she was lying and she couldn’t move all that well, so she lay back and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, she asked him to come to her.

VI

At the little stop on the left bank, just before Tower Bridge, Frederika’s henchman suddenly got up and left the boat, glancing across at the two of them as he went.

‘What did you say to him, Jensen? I want to know,’ she demanded between clenched teeth, as the boat took off again on the leg to Tower Bridge.

‘My business. Now give me your handbag.’

‘Do gentlemen do that?’ She gazed at him and passed the bag across. He rummaged around inside; just the usual women’s stuff. ‘Definitely not a gentleman.’

Then he spotted it, not in her handbag at all but under her loose T shirt, poked into her jeans. ‘Take it out of your jeans, put it into the handbag and don’t insult my intelligence.’

She complied and he noticed the slightest softness to her tummy. Perhaps she wasn’t all that hard after all. Perhaps she liked her pastries a little too much.

‘Now give me the bag.’

She complied again. Too easy, too easy, he thought. She’d given up her gun just like that. Next thing he’d flung the handbag out of the open window, just as the boat was coming into dock at Tower Bridge. ‘Oh wonderful, Hugh, thank you so much. All my cards, all my money and my mother’s photo were in there.’

‘There was no photo and no purse.’

She’d now tired of the game, sighing, ‘Hugh, you put a ridiculous replica into my waist, pretending it was loaded. I went along for the ride but now I have to tell you, darling, what you must already realize - you’re not long for this world. I really liked you – I really did.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning you have nowhere to run, honey, nowhere to hide, not here, not in Russia and not in Australia. You can’t kill. I don’t mean that you’re not brave enough - I mean you have scruples.’

She leaned towards him and spoke in a low, earnest voice, ‘But I don’t have scruples. Think about my family situation in the village outside Denpasar. Think about our combined income. What do you think girls do to bring home the money to the family?’

He raised his eyebrows and she continued. ‘Not me, though. I took a different course and that’s called necessity. I’m good, I get the job done. If I stuff up, I make reparation later. I don’t like loose ends.’

‘Am I a loose end now?’

‘Need you ask?’

The boat had tied up. They were walking up the gangplank together, then, along the walkway, she threw an arm around him and from who knew where, he could feel the point of something suspiciously like a gun under his ribs. ‘Now this is how it’s actually done, Sweety. We’re going for a little walk up near those office buildings.’

She used her body to push, to guide him along away from people. He desperately resisted the pressure and his greater body mass actually began to tell. He pushed hard against her, which made her give up one of the turns she wanted them to take left but he knew there'd be more later.

Any moment he expected a searing pain in the side, the awful wrenching of his gut he imagined he’d have before he blacked out, having never died before.

Now they were up near Mincing Lane and the time of day was such that they'd be in their offices, the tourists had thinned out, a foreign couple who'd been strolling along behnd them had turned off and suddenly, passing a concrete buttress, she swung him in and the Beretta went to his head.

Hugh truly saw the end. Why, he didn’t know but a sudden wave of resentment at the unfairness of this swept over him. ‘Stop! I haven’t eaten since this morning - let’s at least get something to eat first before you kill me.’

She stared hard at him, her cruel, thin lips a contrast to his aggrieved face. She lowered the pistol, muttered, ‘What the hell. Let’s go to McDonalds.'

He looked at her and the only possible option was to go along with it. 'I'm buying,' he said.

VII

Marc was seated on the floor, back to Dilyara’s divan and her hand rested on his shoulder.

‘You’re going to leave me here, aren’t you, Marc?’

‘I can’t see how I can be here and be there at the same time. This work of mine – well, you see, I’m not really qualified for anything else. You are so important to me but we can’t live on love alone.’

‘And you think I don’t understand that?’

He swung round. ‘Not many do.’

‘I do. I don’t like it but I see how you feel. I think Geneviève took you in like a family and it’s more real than your own family.’

‘I’m the only child of the marriage and both my parents were only children. It’s a small family. My father died of a stroke and my mother still lives in Fontainebleu. She’s in good health and doesn’t need me to be there every day but I don’t like to be far for long. For some months maybe. Not permanently.’

‘You don’t seem a mummy’s boy.’

‘I think that’s a silly expression. Why shouldn’t a son love his mother?’

‘He should, he should,’ she said hastily. ‘But maybe not to the exclusion of anyone else.’

‘Look, Dilya, she’s not the type to want me close by. She prefers me to be out making a life. I know you needed to ask all this but what it comes to, in the end, is whether we stay together. For that, we need a plan. We need to be clear in our heads where we are going and we’re not clear because I’m not.

There’s fog and I can’t see clearly. I’m with you now, maybe even for months and years but it will be a strain on both of us. I seriously don’t want anyone else except you – my work consumes my other time.’

‘I see.’

VIII

It was surreal, sitting, eating McChicken Meals and ice cream desserts with a woman who’d now twice tried to snuff his life out but he was also on some kind of adrenalin high. ‘Is it over now?’

‘No, I’m afraid not, not for you. It’s over for me though and for Georges, whom you met. We both stuffed up.’

Hugh detested her coarse speech and wondered why he cared. It came home to him that he did care for her. ‘It won’t be on this trip, you can be sure,’ she broke him out of his revery.

‘I understand how he did but how did you? I mean - why?’

‘Why not? Emotionally involved with the target. Can’t be done. Rule number one. It happens.’

Hugh looked at her. ‘Really?’

‘Really. But I have a little piece of advice for you, Hughie, darling,’ she added in a quiet, sincere voice, ‘you were never in any position to escape. You sussed out Georges and dealt with him on the boat, good but you didn't see Malik and Riya behind you.'

'That couple?'

'Yep. They were already at the wharf - Georges obviously phoned them - and there was a third on a bike, a motorbike who'd most likely gone to the end of the lane we were in. You stood no chance whatever.'

'People would have seen.'

'Malik and Riya were waiting for you to retrace your steps, if you'd escaped me. That would have been a shot from a sideroad, a lane. If it had been the rider, he'd have dumped the bike, changed out of the bike gear and walked away. You seriously had no chance. They weren't there to kill you but they were there to protect me. I pay them to, wherever I go.'

He had no words and his expression was blank. She leaned forward to him, speaking softly. 'I'd already decided this at the top of the escalator at the airport. When I put the capsule in your mouth, I knew you could still spit it out. I didn't hold it in there until I knew it had dissolved. You see, something inside made me want to give you that small chance.'

'Were you paid?'

'I put in the demand but they told me you were still alive. In our language, that meant one more chance for me to make amends. Now, today, you've caused me enormous problems - my reputation took a dive today. My reliability will now be questioned. Those in the game will know what happened but those paying aren't interested. They might even take me out now, in case I've been turned.'

'Were you planning ... taking me out?'

'What choice did I have? I know where you're staying, Malik is good with the gun but as it's not me and as it was my job to finish things off, it would go down as an untidy kill, even if you were dead. I'd have been given one more assignment and if I'd come good again, then it might have been all right.

The best move for you, the only move really, was to move in close as you did and tell me you wanted to make love to me. That threw me off.’

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

‘Where?’

‘Um, how about a film in Leicester Square, then we’ll work it out from there?’

She smiled and when she did that, it was impossible to think of her as a coldblooded killer.

.o0o.

Later, he took her back to Blackheath to occupy the room opposite him on the upper floor - Susan was glad of the extra income for five days.

They went to the Chinese and he recommended the Peking duck, which she was not averse to, even if the Chinese were not the flavour of the month back home. The cuisine was broad enough for her tastes and seated at a double table by the wall, as distinct from the multi-place tables dominating the room, they were in a perfect position to observe Zhenya and Lisa coming in on the upper level.

Frederika grinned a Cheshire grin and waited for the inevitable recognition from Zhenya who, in terms of their current contractual obligations, was diametrically opposed to her and might prove a handful very, very quickly.

Actually, it was Lisa who recognized Hugh first, she was about to say, ‘Giving the blondes a rest, Hugh?’ when Zhenya suddenly caught sight of her, swore under his breath, grabbed Lisa's arm and hurried her from the restaurant forthwith.

Frederika chuckled. ‘That shook him up. Did you see his eyes?’

‘What did that signify?’

‘He’ll be in a sniper position somewhere opposite when we emerge. You’ll have to block me, Hugh, unless you want the dead body of a girl to drag back to the B&B. He likes headshots, Sharov. If he gets the idea you’re protecting me, it will sow doubts in his mind that he’s missed some new development, some new directive, as he can’t possibly have guessed about today.

He’ll then follow us back and try to get you aside.

Put me inside the B&B and then wait for his girl and him. Do you know her? He’ll explain the mortal danger you’re in with me and you can tell him I tried to kill you today but decided not to at the last moment.

Then he’ll relax because he knows the game - that once we’ve refused, that’s an end to the matter this time. It will reassure him more than anything else you can say. He’ll probably tell you what you have on your hands. Understood?’

IX

Ksenia returned to Shadzhara and briefed Ludmilla Valerievna about the Stephen Morgan push into St Petersburg. So far it appeared to have nothing whatever to do with Deputatov but did have a lot to do with Yevgeny Usmanov and that was not something anyone wanted to get tangled up in.

‘You look tired,’ were Ludmilla’s concluding words. ‘More than usual. What’s on your mind?’

Ksenia was seated the other side of the discoloured wooden table on one of the rickety chairs the service still had to endure and now she drew herself up and fixed her superior with a not unkind look. ‘Zhenya, of course.’

‘I don’t suppose it’s his safety you’re concerned with?’

‘It is and it isn’t. Like you, I’m concerned how far he’s in with this company and whether he sees beyond tomorrow. I’m more concerned about you, Ludmilla Valerievna because if you can’t hold him in the section, he won’t be held at all and he’ll go over to them, as his first loyalty.’

‘Putting him at odds with you, Ksusha?’ she asked. Or not?’

Ksenia paused one moment and answered, ‘You need have no fear on that score, as long as I’m not the one sent after him. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?’

Petrova did not smile a reassuring smile but she did lean forward in her chair. ‘Ksusha, you’re the best insinuator we have. Zhenya is the most capable hound we have – he has this knack of finding out the truth very quickly and he’s a wizard in a tight place.

Look at me, Ksenia Vladimirovna. My superiors depend on me running a tight section. That’s all there is to it. I have no deadly plans, neither of you is in a T23 file but I have to tell you that Zhenya is in a P18. You must see that.’

Ksenia’s throat went dry.

‘Go home, KsenVladmirvna. Get some rest.’

‘LudValievna, I have to ask. Hugh Jensen is over there with Djamato, the Indonesian.'

'We know. Zhenya's onto it.'

She visibly relaxed.

X

It panned out exactly as Frederika had predicted and when Zhenya saw Hugh ostentatiously, symbolically protecting her face with one of the restaurant menus, he followed them back, saw Hugh blanket Frederika with his body and let her slip into the B&B and he was mightily puzzled.

Zhenya walked up, opened both palms in a ‘WTF’ gesture, shaking his head, then began to explain to Hugh about how dangerous the woman was. Lisa was far more unforgiving. ‘We came to protect you, Hugh but if you’re going to hob-nob with your executioner, then I throw up my hands and give up.’

He took those hands, ‘I have to stay friendly with her, Lisa, so she doesn’t complete the contract. She has to stay close to me to justify to herself why she didn’t. This is protection in itself.’

She looked doubtfully at Zhenya but he was nodding. ‘Da, that's true. Let’s go up and see her – I’ll go first.’

Lisa was the most reticent but as the victim himself didn’t seem too fazed by the idea, she shrugged and followed them both. Susan came out, greeted them and advised about visiting hours – it was a family house, after all - and they all agreed. Plus, they all seemed respectable enough.

At the head of the stairs, Zhenya told them both to lie on the stairs, beneath the lowest angle of a shot and he asked Hugh, with a gesture, which room she was in - the one to the left. Suddenly, Zhenya burst into the room on the right, pistol pointed, with both hands, straight at the head of the rigid, upright form of Frederika, also pointing her Beretta, with both hands, back at him.

After a few moments, both grinned, lowered their weapons and Zhenya called in the others. ‘Well, Frederika, who’d ever have thought it?’

‘Zhenya,’ she acknowledged, still not completely at ease. ‘Does this mean that all bets are off?’

‘I suppose it does for now,’ he replied.

‘Good,’ and she put away her weapon, an article of trust in him and he did the same. ‘I’ll be here five days, until Hugh goes back. You know he’ll be safe, don’t you?’

Zhenya nodded, even shaking her hand, indicated their departure to Lisa who didn’t know if she was coming or going and they left with a final, ‘We’ll look in again tomorrow.’

.o0o.

At the B&B, finally left to themselves, Hugh and Frederika had coffee and biscuits and poured a little of the Baileys she now took from her pack.

She spoke of Bali, where her family lived, handy for trips overseas, of the village mentality, of how she’d had to get out of there and of how a passing Brit had rescued her. Strangely, it was no tale of vice and prostitution and naughty foreigners. She’d been a good girl and quite modest. Hugh could believe that.

Frederika was sexy in herself, undeniably so, she didn’t dress immodestly, she dressed for comfort and with a modicum of style. Her colours were quite light, including her jeans, and it threw her swarthy features into sharp relief. She favoured whites and blues, her dark locks tumbled over the light coloured fabric and her slender hands were hard, with a suggestion of length in the nails and a pinkish hue of polish.

Frederika was OK - that is, if she didn't happen to be a cold-blooded killer.

‘I’d like something better for you than this life,’ he started.

‘Are you going to offer that kind of money to me?’ He lapsed back into his chair in silence. ‘Don't try to dissuade me that way. There's only one way you could succeed.’

She came up to where he was sitting on her bed and stood between his knees, looking straight ahead of her, over his shoulder.

When he failed to respond, she raised her eyes to the ceiling, sighed and undid her big belt buckle. As he got to work, he noticed the tattoo on her upper left thigh and near her left shoulder.

She was a hard lover and her short, hard thrusts, in the opposite direction to his, bruised both their bodies.

During a pause, she asked, ‘Why didn’t you try it on - on the plane I mean?’

‘Well – I – er – I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d –’

‘If we’d done that, I could never have killed you.’

‘Would you have let me?’

‘Oh yes, I’d have let you. I’ve always wanted to join the Mile High Club. Exciting in the exit row.’

He smiled and made a mental note for future reference.

XI

Zhenya woke up on the divan and reflected on the previous night.

Interesting indeed, he smiled to himself, as he jumped up and went to the bathroom, passing Lisa, heading for the kitchen.

Having stashed his things in his bag, he joined her in the kitchenette and straddled a stool, reminiscent of Blackheath days. She was feeling a bit confused but laid out a good breakfast.

‘So, Zhenya,’ she finally looked him in the eye and made light of it, ‘Are you going to make an honest woman of me?’

He didn’t understand the expression but understood the import and guffawed. ‘I told you I can’t settle.’

‘Maybe it’s time you did.’

‘You don’t understand. My job takes me here, there, everywhere, at a moment’s notice. No woman’s going to stand for that.’

‘How do you know? Some might quite like the lifestyle.’

He glanced at her. ‘You don’t know me. I can be dangerous.’

‘I know – I can see it and that’s exactly why you need a woman to keep you straight. You don’t frighten me.’

He gazed at her with new eyes and gave it more than a moment’s thought. She cut across his thoughts. ‘Hugh and that woman – what do you think?’

‘I don’t like it.’ His voice became grimmer. ‘He should stick to one woman.’

‘Meaning Ksenia?’

He thought for a moment and then repeated. ‘He should stick to one woman.’

XII

Hugh and Frederika had been to the city for the day and decided to take the last boat back. Boats didn’t go from Westminster after a certain hour, so they’d have to walk to the Tower.

The first chill of night air blew across the water; he took off his black silk jacket and put it over her shoulders. ‘Are you a night person?’ he asked.

‘I’m a ‘candlelit dinner’ type of person,’ she lied.

‘Let’s do that in Greenwich. Best to get out of here now, agreed?’

‘Greenwich it is.’

They went Mexican but the music made conversation well nigh impossible and she tugged on his sleeve, both thinking the same thing. They couldn’t go back through Greenwich Park, because it was closed for the night, but it was a nice enough walk beside the long, red brick wall.

.o0o.

Once back near the village, they hit the Princess of Wales for nachos and a curry, then, on the way up through the village, he pulled her into the French brasserie on the left assuring her the dessert was well worth it - and it was too. The crepes, coffee and cognac hit the spot, they did a little shopping, then it was back to the B&B.

That night he began with her forehead but halfway through, she stopped him and said, ‘Just hold me.’

She’d prepared her words. ‘I don’t want you getting upset with what I’m going to say. All right?’

He glanced down at her head on his chest and grunted, ‘Right.’

‘This is not you.’

‘Eh?’

‘This is not you, taking lovers as you jetset round the world. This ain’t you. The way you made love to me was with love, do you understand what I mean? You weren’t in it for the sex, were you? You have to have feelings for a girl before you can do it. Am I right?’

He smiled.

‘You need one woman. Don’t get me wrong. The sex was sweet and I want more in a minute but you need something different.’ He went to answer and she continued, ‘I mean a regular woman, not someone like me. I’m too far gone, I take my sex where I can. I don’t want this for you, Hugh. Is there no one in Russia or over here? What happened to the girl in the photos? Was it Anya?’

‘She went away.’

‘No one else?’

‘Well, there is, actually. Zhenya’s sister and I have an understanding.’

‘What! Ksenia Sharova?’

‘Yes.’

She stared at him with disbelief but then realized he'd not be making something like this up. 'Have you ... ah ... made love?'

‘Yes.’

She whistled. 'Then Zhenya is not going to like you and me one little bit. Hugh, you might be in danger from him.'

'No. She loves me and I love her.'

'Loves you? Ksenia? She's a killer, Hugh.'

'So are you and you have feelings.'

She whistled again. 'You're seriously not in the real world. She really loves you?'

'We made love on the concourse at the airport - not sex, just love.'

Frederika was goggle eyed. 'Then how can you make l ... ah, I see and I don't think I like what I see. You betrayed her because you thought I wouldn't kill you if you made love to me. That's ... low.'

'I don't think I needed to make love to you to be safe with you. I accepted what you said at McDonalds - that I was already safe -'

'Well why then?'

'For you, I might have just been another kill. For me, it was a deeply personal thing and I'm not being funny. It was an emotional thing with you, all mixed up with me wanting you. I can't explain it and if I did, it wouldn't sound very good.'

'You're confused, aren't you?'

'Yes.'

'So am I. For now. For this time together. Look Hugh, I can't help my contract on you - well I can but you know what I mean - I can't help what happened today and I can't help these feelings now. We've already had sex so you've already done wrong. Let's go to the end of the week and then leave it at that, all right? As I said, you're not cut out for this. Go home to Ksenia and treat her properly. Will you promise me you will?'

'Yes.'

XIII

‘Crab salad please, Zhenya.’

Zhenya looked about the Travellers Arms and imagined his sister’s meeting with Hugh in this pub. He ordered a steak for himself, got the drinks and came back to the table. ‘Is this the same table?’

She didn’t immediately answer but sat, elbows on the table, chin cupped in hands and awaited the next move, which had the effect of unsettling him until she asked, ‘Would you kill me?’

He recovered himself and breathed to her, ‘Lisa, you really must lay off that topic.’

‘But it’s interesting to a girl.’

‘Enough all right? We have our job, you have yours. You’re not on any list, if that’s what you mean. Now, tell me what I need to know about this Riccardo.’

She sized him up, thought a few moments more and then plunged into her narrative.

XIV

Zhenya flew back the day before Hugh and was soon sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. He knew his sister was fishing, he was incensed with Jensen and was going to drop him in it.

It only took her first lightly probing question. 'How did it finish up with Hugh and Frederika?'

'He was fucking her all week.' He saw her shoulders slump, ignored it and asked, ‘Any more coffee, Ksush?’

‘You have two hands. I’ll be back in a minute.’

He nodded to himself, his worst fears confirmed.

XV

The day of Hugh’s flight came round and it was a day neither seemed particularly inclined to see come around. They went to the airport together and she stood with him at the barrier for some considerable time, hand in hand.

The last kiss was sad and then he was gone. She stayed staring after him for some time and many thoughts passed through her mind.

.o0o.

In Moscow, he took the train from Shadzharniy Vaksal and then, the following morning, Shadzhara came into view yet again.

No one came for him, he returned to his house, went in to the lift, got out on his landing, found his keys, opened the door, licked off his shoes and deposited his things in the hallway. Quickly going round the flat, just in case there was any sign of ... anyone ... anyone female ... he saw there was not, just a coating of dust over the furniture and the refrigerator with the door open, just as he'd left it.

All his elaborate little hairs over cupboard doors, things stacked in certain ways he remembered, all of it - indicated that he was a man alone and one who probably had been, in terms of relationships, for some time now.

He sat down on the end of his bed, turned up the quilt and looked at the green underlay. Aliya was long part of the past now. He reasoned that Ksusha had probably been told by Zhenya and that's why she had not come to the airport, perhaps she was still overseas.

Anya was his first call and here came a shock - her mobile was no longer in operation. He knew she sometimes hadn't paid and had been cut off but this was not that - the message said the line had been disconnected. He'd have to wait for her to call. He could phone her mother but that would be counterproductive.

What the hell. He did call, they conversed about his return and he wished for her mother to pass on his greetings. She would.

Now, whether to phone Ksusha.

He had to.

It rang for a long time and then auto-ended the call.

He tried again.

And again.

The fourth time he rang, after a minute, the receiver was picked up and he was about to speak when it was put down again - he heard the click and then the dial tone.

He pulled back the quilt, climbed onto the underlay, pulled the quilt back over him and went to sleep.


Chapter 8 here ... Chapter 10 here

HOME