Dying Wishes - Medway Council

Dying Wishes
By
Steve Goldsack
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Copyright © Steve Goldsack 2011
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Acknowledgements
Thank you to Frankie Sutton for your editorial work and good
advice.
My darling wife Sarah for putting up with me while I worked
on this, for pushing me to do something with it and reading it in its
rawest form and not complaining too much about the terrible
grammar and typos.
My three beautiful children for putting up with me sitting in
my corner, bashing away at my laptop while they were trying to
watch something or talk to me.
Bryan and Shiv for supporting my work and generally being
great friends.
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Chapter One
Join the Army and see the world, the ad had said back then.
See the arse end of the world thought Tom, as he sat listening to
his sergeant going over some operational detail for one of the other
teams. He was sitting in a thrown together shack in a quiet corner
of an operational base that he couldn’t remember the name of, in
the arse end of Helmand province Afghanistan. He had been to
some shitty places in his career, from the gloomy streets of the
province as a Para, to the sweaty jungles of Thailand and South
America, but this was his worst one by far. It was hot and cold in
equal measure, there was dust in everything, especially food and
drinks and the locals were the most inhospitable he had
encountered, even having little kids from the Falls Road throwing
stones at him was preferable to these bastards.
Apparently, this hadn’t always been the case. Back in 2001
when the British had first arrived in Helmand, the locals had
blessed them as saviours from the fundamentalist Taliban regime;
they gave out presents and welcomed the soldiers into their homes
for tea, a great honour for anyone in this country.
Slowly over years of constant fighting, bullying by Taliban
insurgents, and accidental killings by allied troops, the tide had
turned. They were now pariahs, no longer welcome in any of the
small villages around the region. Tom had only been on the ground
a few days, and that was long enough, as far as he was concerned.
But a couple of the guys from 6 troop had been here a month and
had nothing good to say about anything, they were well known
whingers but he had to admit he couldn’t fault anything they had
said, yet.
His attention flitted back to the orders being handed out. They
had not gotten to him yet, Jules looked thoroughly bored. The heat
in the room was unbearable in isolation, but with twenty-four men,
all sweating and breathing at once it ramped things up to a whole
new level of discomfort. Yes, they’d been trained to handle all
temperatures and environments, but that was on operations and it
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didn’t stand you in good stead for briefings in the middle of a
fucking desert.
The talk finally came around to Tom and Jules’s mission.
They listened as they wrote down the relevant details. They were
to be dropped in the mountains near a small village, which didn’t
have a name it was so insignificant, where they were to get eyes on
some likely characters, spotted by ISAF, the International Security
Assistance Force, the name for the UN’s operations in
Afghanistan.
There was a constant stream of intelligence, known
informally as intel, and images that were beamed in to ISAF, by
drones that flew over the whole of the country, searching for signs
that would give away anything of value, from a military
standpoint. The mission was to be self-contained and would be
covert, radio contact would only be permitted once a day, at eleven
fifteen and any orders would be conveyed by encoded signal at that
time.
They looked at each other, no need to speak to convey the arse
ache this kind of job usually turned out to be. Hours of lying in
some cold hole in the ground, to find out that one of the locals
knew a cousin of someone who had once been the driver of Osama
Bin Laden’s best mate.
Intel was nearly always shit, and they were well and truly
bored of never getting anything of value from the targets they were
sent to spy on. As they finished the meeting with a general pep talk
from the operational commander, Colonel Graves, a short stocky
man who would have looked at home in the front row of one of the
regimental rugby teams, all bent nose and wonky teeth, he
emphasised the need for success in the intelligence war. The words
were delivered in his plum in the mouth style, his posh accent
belying his private school education. The end of his speech was a
rousing call to arms, that wouldn’t have been out of place at
Rorke’s Drift, it didn’t get quite the response he was hoping for but
it did raise a cynical smile from the career soldiers, who had been
in enough of these briefings to recognise an officer on his way up,
doing his best to get noticed by Top Brass.
The rest of the day was set aside for getting the necessary kit
together, rations had to be drawn and weapons checked and double
checked, munitions loaded into bergens along with the specialist
4

listening equipment and most important, the satellite phone that
was their link to the Head Shed, the operational headquarters back
at base.
Once done, they met in the mess for some warm brown stuff
that was nominally called a chilli, to talk about anything, but their
respective jobs. This wasn’t new or exciting to these guys and
there were plenty of more interesting things to discuss, like who
was shagging who, where the other lads were working, and by
others they meant ex colleagues. There was always news of guys
who had left the regiment and were now working on the circuit,
how much they were earning these days, how piss easy they had
things, and wouldn’t it be better to leave the regiment and join
them. It was all talk, no one really settled down into civvy life after
being in the regiment. The buzz wasn’t replaceable with bodyguard
duty for some rich Saudi prince or a celebrity, even the work in
places like Kabul or Baghdad wasn’t as exciting as it sounded.
Tom was now 29 and had been a soldier for thirteen years. On
joining the SAS he was one of the youngest troopers in the
regiment, but he had earned his place the hard way. He had been a
bit of a beanpole when he joined the Army straight from school,
tall at 6’3” but apart from broad shoulders, which made him look
like he had a coat hanger in his jacket, he was nothing to look at.
His hair was neatly shorn in his usual style, he couldn’t remember
ever having hair as a kid, his mum shaved it to the bone every two
weeks to avoid nits, then as he got older, he just kept it up because
it was tidy and low maintenance. When he did finally grow it, he
had to look less military when he worked in the Province, it was a
light brown colour, which Jules described as dog shit brown. He
had an open honest face, a bit flat nosed but not ugly, just easily
forgettable which came in very handy working undercover.
The years of rigorous training had added significant bulk to
his long frame and he was a fine figure of a man, especially with
his shirt off. They called him the Plonker Adonis back in Hereford,
and he took it with good grace, even though he’d had to look up
what Adonis meant.
Four years in the regular Army serving in the Royal Anglian’s
as a rifleman, where he worked his way up to lance corporal, were
followed by another four in the Parachute regiment. P selection
had been tough; his best mate from his old regiment had to be
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invalided out, due to an accident while training. Tom had scraped
through though, and was as proud as punch to wear the red beret.
He thought at the time he’d reached his pinnacle as a Lance
Corporal, he didn’t envisage climbing much higher in the ranks
and Para’s were the bee’s knees of the British Army, or so he
thought.
He was on duty in Crossmaglen, a small town on the borders
of Northern Ireland when he first met Welsh Dave, a scrawny,
odd-looking guy who was in and out of the compound at irregular
hours. He had terrible dress sense, his ginger hair was always a
mess and he looked more like the enemy than the enemy did, if
that was even possible. As it turned out, this was exactly the look
he was going for. He was on secondment to the Para’s for some
intel stuff, and his full time job was an SAS trooper with the
Detachment, a covert operations team tasked with hunting out and
destroying the Paramilitary organisations, who were targeting
British interests both on the Sceptred Isle and the mainland.
At first, Dave had been aloof, not really saying much to the
rank and file guys. However, as he stayed longer, he became one
of the regulars in the NAAFI bar, which was really just a table with
some optics and a small fridge in the main hall. When sober, he
would be quite reserved, but after a skin full of scotch, he would
begin to regale the lads with tales of the infamous SAS, or the
regiment, as it was known by service men, except those in the RAF
who had their own regiment, which wasn’t anywhere near as
impressive.
To Tom, this sounded brilliant, the tales of derring do, allied
to raucous stories of risky japes pulled out on training exercises
was all he needed to hear, where he was sure he had reached the
top of the tree before, now, he was aware there was a penthouse
suite as it were, and the SAS were now his new target. He did his
homework, grilled Dave for all he was worth about selection and
stuff, then set out on the path to ultimate glory. He had to interrupt
the training for a short while due to his mother dying, but this
spurred him on even harder. After twelve months of hard graft,
constant fitness training and stamina work, he was allowed to enter
selection, an almost mythical test of soldiering, that few passed and
those that did, did so very rarely on their first attempt. Tom had
been one of only six guys on his set to get the sand coloured beret.
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Forty had started out, many of them fellow Para’s, some marines
and even the odd regular Army soldier. The six that finished were
three Para’s, a signaller and two Royal Marines. He had never felt
as proud as he did the day of his confirmation into the ranks of the
Special Air Service.
Now, five years later, he had managed to get back up to lance
corporal in rank and had been around the world a couple of times,
spending time in Asia, South and North America, and even some
time in Australia and New Zealand. The work wasn’t easy, but it
was rewarding, and knowing you were the envy of almost every
professional soldier out there was a good feeling. The downside
was the shitty jobs you were given, always in the most ludicrously
inhospitable places, icy tundra, hot deserts and sweltering jungle.
There never seemed to be a nice temperate climate, where you
could wear your old-fashioned BDUs, and feel comfortable for a
while. SAS soldiering wasn’t all that he had imagined. The guys
who had brought the unit to public recognition in the Iranian
Embassy siege had been lucky, in so far as they had been on a real
high profile mission with the attention of the world, this was the
stuff of legends for them, the rest of the time it was gruelling work
in God awful places for little or no thanks at all.
As they finished their meal and put their plates on the shelf for
the catering staff to clean, they said their farewells, no emphasis
was put on the dangers they each might be facing. This was work
and as such, just a regular day with regular goodbyes, a snide
comment here, a boasting retort there, not so much machismo as
banter from guys focused on their own task at hand.
Tom and Jules went through a couple of things before turning
in. A hammock slung under a mossy net a few feet apart was the
best they could manage for a bed. As the bugs chirruped in the
darkness, Jules looked across at Tom, trying to see through the
poor light and opaque netting if he was awake still.
“Mate you still there? Tom you up mate?” he spoke quietly so
as to not disturb anyone outside of their little corner of the
compound, although the other guys were still rattling around,
sorting stuff or just chatting over a fag and brew before they turned
in.
“Yeah mate still here, can’t sleep for these fucking insects
banging on about shit to each other, what’s up, you got pre mission
7

nerves again? Am I gonna have to give you one of the Guvnor’s
pep talks?”
There was a slightly sarcastic tone that Jules recognised, but
he was in the mood for some serious talking and brushed past the
attempt at banter.
“Nothing so simple mate. I’ve been talking to Ellen recently,
and before you say anything she called me, I was as surprised as
you to hear from her.”
Tom snorted at this and was about to speak.
“Anyway, she called me just before we rotated out of
Hereford. She’s back in Yorkshire now, the wanker she left with
has gone and she needed to speak to me, I couldn’t very well tell
her to fuck off, could I?”
“Yes, you fucking could mate, and that’s what you should
have done. That lowlife slapper isn’t worth your fucking time.
What’d she want; some fucking money I suppose?”
Jules took a short breath. He was prepared for this response
and had wondered how he would get Tom to listen without
continuous interruptions.
“Listen mate, this is important, I know what a cow she was to
me. After all, it was me who kicked her out, but she wasn’t asking
for anything, not for herself anyway, she was looking for Saffy.”
Tom rolled onto his side to look at Jules.
“What’s up with Saffy? She was fine last time we spoke,
enjoying her course and stuff, living the high life of a student from
what she said. Didn’t have a good word to say about her mother
either, I might add.”
Jules was getting impatient with Tom, he wanted to say his
piece, but knew if he was going to get Tom on board he would
have to let him have his say.
“Listen mate, it’s not as simple as that, she says that they
haven’t spoken in months, literally six months, and when she tried
to get her at her digs they said she’d moved out, left the uni
altogether, when she rang the pastoral people they confirmed she
had gone.”
Tom had shut up now as his interest was piqued.
“They couldn’t explain it either, she was ahead of the game
academically, she hadn’t even left an explanation, Ellen is really
worried about her.”
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Jules was concerned to, Tom could hear it in his voice but he
was trying not to let it show. Tom thought back, it had been even
longer since he had spoken to her himself.
“I wouldn’t worry mate, she’s a smart kid, maybe she just had
enough and wanted to do a gap year or something, and why would
she tell her mum, they don’t exactly have daily chats since she
fucked you over, so it’s not a surprise she isn’t filling her in on
anything and everything.”
He was speaking to Jules but trying to convince himself at the
same time, “I reckon she’s probably let herself into your place
back in town, we’ll get someone to pop in and check while we’re
out here, yeah?”
Tom hoped he was right, he felt terrible it hadn’t occurred to
him to call her. Saffron had always been a wilful girl and upping
sticks and leaving her university because she felt like it was just
like her.
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right mate, but I’m worried about her.
She took the whole break up really hard and she don’t have
anything to do with Ellen anymore. I can’t let this just go Tom,
they are all they’ve got if anything happens to me. I need them to
be there for each other, I need a favour mate, you can say no if you
like, but it would mean a lot to me.”
He paused to ensure there was no ambiguity about his words;
he had Tom’s full attention.
“I want you to talk to Saffy for me, she loves you and listens
to you like a big brother, you don’t have to give her a load of
flannel about her mum. I know how you feel, but just point out
what’s going on, we could bite it anytime and they need to be back
together so I don’t have to worry about them both separately, just
try for me mate, it would really be doing me a huge one, what do
you say mate? Tom?”
Tom groaned theatrically and rolled back onto his back, the
hammock swinging wildly as he moved. He deliberately left Jules
waiting, as he went through the idea in his head, he wasn’t just
Ellen's biggest critic, he fucking hated her, although they had been
best of friends before she screwed Jules over. How was he going to
be able to speak to Saffron, a girl he loved dearly but he knew
hated her mum right now and try and get them to be on good terms
again, this was an epic mission as far as he was concerned.
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“Okay mate, this is what I’ll do. I’ll have a word in her shell
like but I’m not going to put her under any pressure. I don’t think
Ellen deserves her, but if it’s what’s gonna get you to shut up and
let me get some shut eye, I’m willing to have a go, yeah, that good
enough for you?”
Jules’s teeth could be clearly seen in the darkness as he
smiled, Tom was an arsehole sometimes, but he was a good mate,
a great mate in fact.
“Yeah that’s great, I’ll let you sleep now, do you want a
lullaby or you planning on another wet dream tonight?”
Tom just grunted in response, turned onto his other side
swinging as he did so, he then proceeded to make snoring noises
much to Jules’s delight.
They both woke at first light. As soldiers, they had gotten used
to the drill while on operations and exercises of mustering before
first light, this wasn’t necessary anymore, and the regiment didn’t
require any antiquated proof of their men’s discipline. What they
needed, was stone cold killers who could carry out any number of
tasks. Time keeping wasn’t important outside of operations and
making them get up just to prove they could, wasn’t an issue.
Tom rolled off of the would be bed, stretching his back to
relieve the stiffness. In a hammock, any movement was
accentuated tenfold so you got used to staying still; this led to a
sore back and neck more often than not. Once the little wrinkles of
a night sleeping in hell had been stretched out, they got a brew on.
They started to roll stuff up and put it into their huge bergens, these
would be a life support system out on ops, if they couldn’t find it
in there they didn’t have it basically, so they took great care to
make sure they forgot nothing of note.
“You still okay with what we talked about last night mate? I
know you was half asleep and all, but I just wanna check you’re all
good for this one?”
Tom tutted as he looked up from forcing something into the
top of the already tightly packed rucksack.
“Yeah, yeah mate, I get it fine, do my Jerry Springer thing and
reunite the family for you, no problems, you know I’m famous for
my people skills don’t you?”
This made them both laugh, Tom was infamous for being
quiet, he could banter with the lads no problems, but in any social
10

situation he was a nightmare. He had a couple of girlfriends in the
past, but he rarely managed to pull on a night out because he just
didn’t get into anything with women. Other members of the troop
were like cartoon characters when it came to the women, all the
cheesy chat, open necked shirts, the lot. They would give little
hints as to who they were, it was strictly forbidden to say you were
in the regiment, security issues and all that, but it didn’t stop some
of them giving it large to some half wasted young lady in a bar or
club. Tom on the other hand usually told them he was an office
clerk or something, if he even went as far as saying anything at all.
“I know you’re not gonna enjoy it mate, I get it, but Ellen is
her mum and until now, she’s done a grand job, so try your best for
me and Saffy, yeah?”
Tom just nodded and got on with his last minute stuff. His
weapon was lying on the ground between his legs. An MP5K, a
shortened version of the Heckler and Koch machine pistol popular
with police forces throughout Europe, this version was tiny, no
stock to speak of and about an inch of barrel protruding from the
front. It wasn’t an accurate weapon, but highly effective in close
quarters which was just the job for these kind of ops. Tom picked
his up and went through the maintenance drill, checking what there
was of the barrel and firing mechanism, etc.
Jules’s was within reach, so he did the same. You were
supposed to do your own, so you knew for certain it was in good
nick if it got heavy, but Jules knew Tom was adept at this stuff and
was happy to put his trust in his mate’s skills on this matter.
They spoke very little as they awaited the order to assemble,
the kit had been checked and double-checked and there was
nothing much to be said or done at this point. They took the
opportunity to have a last cup of tea, it was unlikely they would be
drinking anything hot for a while, and then sat on top of their
bergens in the main assembly area awaiting the Chinook that was
going to drop them a few kilometres from their target. There was
no sense of anticipation or excitement, because this was just
another shitty job, and they would be back here in a few days
complaining to everyone else how hot or cold they had been, and
what a pain in the arse the other trooper had been, or so they
thought.
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Chapter Two
As they laid in the dark, a draught blowing through the
doorway was picking up spirals of dirt from the floor; Tom looked
to at Jules’s back. The cold was breath-taking and Tom was
begrudging Jules his current point of recumbence, he was laying
further into the dwelling, up against the internal wall.
The positions were not accidental, as it was quickly
established that the occupants were Arabs, and therefore not
speaking Pashtu, the local language. Jules was the more fluent in
Arabic, and therefore, most likely to pick up what was being said.
“Typical,” thought Tom.
He spent weeks upgrading his Pashtu just for this tour, and the
fuckers turn out to be Arabs, or A-rabs as Jules called them.
They had snuck into the cave, cum hut, once they were sure
the men they had followed were inside the rear room, which was
buried into the mountainside. The targets had been identified the
night before by ISAF, as being of importance, this was all they had
been told at this point, but it wasn’t unusual to be treated like
mushrooms Tom thought, kept in the dark and fed on shit.
Once they had received the go from ISAF, they moved out
into the deserted area of the village they had been sent to
reconnoitre. Basically, the adobe huts were all empty, the few
remaining residents preferring to live in the troglodyte fashion, i.e.,
caveman style. This had been a boon to the two man team from the
get go, allowing them to have the ultimate luxury for a special ops
team on close proximity observation (CPO), that being a fire and
habitable accommodation.
They had very carefully checked the visibility of any smoke
and for light contamination, which was not a problem, as the only
other residents of this mountain hamlet were all on the farthest side
of the village, and no matter where they looked from; there was no
evidence of their presence.
It wasn’t strictly the done thing, but they had both learned
long ago to adjust the interpretation of the rules to suit their current
predicament. The time spent in the squat hut was not to be
12

described as pleasant under any circumstances, but the two men
knew that elsewhere throughout the region, their compatriots’
would be laying down under crappy stinking rags or in shallow
delves, shitting into plastic bags and eating nothing but chocolate
bars. They would sit close to the small fire and laugh about the
other lads, doing impersonations of those with reputations of never
shouldering the crap parts of the job without a good old moan,
always slagging off the officers for the fact they have to be stuck in
their current shitty locales.
They were all good men but in any group you had the
whinger, and theirs was no exception. Well trained, extremely
professional, just moaning bastards at the same time. Both of them
knew they had been extremely fortuitous in finding this village so
rundown and under populated. The fact that they could have the
comparative luxury of the squalor they were in. The fire was more
for light than anything else, as it generated very little heat. The fuel
for the fire was found within the many derelict huts around their
own, it was some form of dung in little cakes, which when dry
burnt slowly and stank to high heaven.
Their first few nights were spent tentatively searching out the
surrounding area, moving slowly and carefully, as it turned out
quite pointlessly, as they found out by venturing out a little earlier
one evening. They saw the ten or so men, and three women
disappear into the only three occupied caves well before sundown.
The Predator had informed them of the number of bodies likely to
be around, but the proximity to the caves meant the Intel was not
accurate enough to trust entirely. Personal clarification was the
only way the troopers could be sure they were safe to move, albeit
surreptitiously, during the darkest hours. The earlier call from
ISAF was unexpected, breaking a routine, which was beginning to
become unhealthy. In their current situation, anything routine
could cause complacency, and that was likely to result in a
mistake.
They had just eaten some warmed through beans they had
been hoarding since the first night on the ground. They had
realised they would be able to have them warm at some point, and
this evening they had decided to crack them open before going out
into the gloom.
13

The satellite receiver hummed to make them aware, the
annoying beep having been turned off, for obvious reasons. There
had been a vehicle tracked all the way from Kandahar, stopping at
various encampments along the way. It was thought they would
have missed this particular set of dwellings out altogether, and
head further on towards the Pakistani border, but it had turned off
the beaten track and headed into the mountains. What the troopers
didn’t know was these travellers were believed to be Al-Qaida,
which would have alerted them to the need for Arabic.
There were three men in the clapped out old pickup truck,
there seemed to be a proliferation of these old, usually white
trucks. Tom had wondered if they had decommissioned all of
these, then the Taliban would have had to give up, such was their
importance to the Afghans. There was something loaded onto the
rear, which was covered in a sheet of canvas which may have been
why they were of interest at this time.
They pulled up as close to the caves as they could, and the
men of the village came to greet them, bowing and hugging as
appropriate. The three men, aided by the local men, carried their
load into the most frequented of the three caves in use.
Jules headed back into the village to ensure the men were not
being trailed by counter intelligence, something not unknown in
the regiment’s dealings with Al-Qaida.
Tom stayed eyes on the doorway, hidden behind the closest of
the huts to the cave entrance. His job was to make sure they hadn’t
just stopped to have a cuppa with their old school mates, and were
going to jump back into the ramshackle pickup truck, which had
amazingly brought them so far across the dust strewn landscape.
With all necessary checks made, the men crawled slowly
through the doorway, pushing aside the heavy curtain hanging in
place of a door. Wood wasn’t exactly easy to come by, and wasting
it on doors was something they wouldn’t have considered. The
cave in question, took the regular pattern they had recced on
previous nights in the disused version further up the mountainside
they were perched against.
There was a vestibule of sorts, usually about six to eight feet
deep, and then a wall made of adobe bricks with another blanketcovering
the opening into the rear of the cave. They had surmised
from previous night’s work that the porches, as Jules called them,
14

were seldom used, at least not during the colder months. There was
usually a pile of blankets and other smelly crap thrown out there,
the area behind the blankets was still a mystery as each of the
caves would be naturally different, after all they were caves and
not man made.
As they slowly, and meticulously worked their way into the
ante-room, Jules climbed silently into the pile of rags, while Tom,
with his next to useless knowledge of the local tongue, stayed near
the doorway ensuring they were not stumbled upon by a random
night caller.
Although previous night’s experience had shown that no one
was willing to venture out in the dark, maybe they knew about the
Predators flying up in the night sky, or they just didn’t have the
need. It was bitterly cold, and although the darkness wasn’t
complete, the people they had seen were not young and maybe
couldn’t see so well.
As a conversation continued within the rear room, Jules placed
his ultrasonic listening device as close to the hanging blanket as he
dared. The talking was audible as a distant grumbling to Tom, and
he could discern that things were not all rosy behind the curtain.
He would have asked Jules for a sit rep, but he knew that he
needed to keep his attention on the room. Although they were
recording everything, on a digital device attached to the receiver, it
was vital he kept up with everything in case they just upped and
decided to leave, thereby compromising the entire Op.
They had been there for a good forty minutes, when Jules
started to look worried, the voices quietened unexpectedly, then a
sudden cry rent the air. Tom looked across at Jules with a
questioning shrug, the light was poor, but they could see each other
well enough and Jules shushed him with a waving gesture, while
he cupped the earphone to cut out any outside noise. The cry was
followed by a deathly silence, which to Tom went on for what
seemed like minutes, but Jules was already picking up hushed
exchanges in the cave seemingly, from further back, and whatever
he heard was not good, if his expression was any indicator.
Jules then leaned towards Tom, beckoning him to go further
away, which in the current positions would be out of the doorway,
as speech was forbidden they tried to communicate by sign, and
this was a struggle as the light and the odd situation meant the
15

signing wasn’t conclusive. All Tom could fathom was Jules
wanted him to back away from his current location but he couldn’t
discern why. Not being one to doubt the skills of his long time
mate, he checked through the blanket that the coast was clear, out
of habit, rather than necessity, then crawled backwards out through
the hole in the adobe walls, finally come to rest standing up against
outside wall. He hoped the shadows cast by the shrouded moon
would conceal him, while whatever Jules was working on got
sorted.
The unexpected move back out into the exposed mountain air
gave Tom a moment of discomfort, as the chilled air caught in his
throat. He had just managed to bring himself back on track, when
breaking all rules of close ops, Jules trundled out of the doorway
and whistled into the darkness, his eyes unable to adjust to the
change in the light.
Tom, momentarily shocked by the speed and noise of Jules’s
departure from the cave dwelling, reached out and pulled at his
shoulder. Jules drew down with his Glock, but seeing it was Tom,
dropped it back into his leg holster.
He leant into toward Tom, “We gotta get the fuck outta here
mate!”
He was speaking in a loud whisper, the type used in films
when the operatives are arguing outside a top-secret base just prior
to going in, not something you did outside an actual enemy
position, whether going in or getting out.
“What the fucks going on mate, you been spotted? We
compromised?”
Whatever it was, the look on Jules’s face was hard to read in
the shadows.
“Listen, we need to get as far from here as we can, I can’t
explain now just fucking leg it” The last part, he practically
shouted. No attempt to disguise their whereabouts no thought for
the other dwellings they would soon be running through. There
seemed to be no concern about any of the other village residents
being disturbed by the sudden shout or clomping of heavy boots as
Tom ran through the small alleys on the hard track.
Tom automatically headed towards the Laying Up Point
(LUP), He assumed this was the plan Jules had in mind. After all
they would need as much of their kit as possible if they were going
16

to be out on the mountains for any length of time. They would
certainly rue the lack of anything important when they had to
survive the night, possibly under hostile enemy fire. Their firearms
were hidden beneath the rugs and blankets that had been in the hut
when they found it, if this had gone noisy, and it appeared it had,
then they would need the firepower to get away from these Arabs
without losing their lives.
As he turned onto the last section of alley before their hut,
Tom looked back to see where Jules was. He wasn’t anywhere to
be seen. Had he fallen? Or was he now in front of Tom?
There was a maze of small alleys and Tom may have not taken
the quickest route. He jumped through the blanketed entrance to
their LUP, pulling the dusty old rag in behind him. The room was
evidently still empty and the only light came from the dying
embers of the fire, not enough to cast even the merest of glows.
Luckily, the removal of the blanket let some of the moons light
through, and it allowed Tom to see where their packs were stashed,
but also to see that Jules was not here. He grabbed his Bergen,
checking it was closed, and then lifted his small MP5K from
beneath the stinking pile of rotten old blankets, checking the
magazine was in place.
He paused, should he take Jules’s weapon too? If he went
back and didn’t find him it could cause problems, Jules might
reach the hut and finding his weapon missing assume Tom had
been compromised or captured, but on the other hand, if he did
locate Jules, he would be severely handicapped in a fire fight,
relying solely on his side arm.
Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his ears full with
the sound of his fast beating heart. He could hear no other sounds
and he fought to calm himself, knowing that the easiest one to kill
was the man who didn’t hear it coming, and at the moment a giant
in hob nailed boots could have come up behind him, such was the
internal noise. He opened his mouth slightly to allow himself to
hear a little more, the jaw made your ears play tricks, and Tom
needed to be sure of everything he heard from this point on.
Thus far, there was nothing to suggest that Jules’s outburst had
been heard by any of the Arabs or the other villagers, no shouts,
calls of enquiry, nothing. What had gone down in there? Why had
Jules been so quick to get away? What had caused him to forgo his
17

training and go noisy right outside a targets location and why had
he not followed Tom to the hut?
If Jules had heard something that had suggested the operation
at the hut had been compromised, he would have made that clear to
Tom. He knew that they would have needed their kit to survive
even for a short time out in the open, especially if the locals were
going to be searching for them, it didn’t make sense. His instincts
were screaming at him to get out onto the mountain. Jules was a
pro, an old hand at this, and he would be doing whatever he
thought best for the mission and himself, invariably in that order,
knowing Jules.
Tom was worried. What if he had fallen and injured himself,
or been in a contact with one of the villagers? He might be unable
to extricate himself.
He wondered what had caused the sudden panic. There was no
other word for it; he had been adamant that putting some distance
between themselves and the target was urgent. Thus far, he hadn’t
followed his own order, at least not yet, Tom shouldn’t have been
concerned about him. It was a ridiculous situation for an
experienced trooper to be in, but humans can’t always control their
emotions, not even the most drilled, tested soldiers on God’s green
earth could account for everything they would experience in a
combat situation, which he had to assume this was. Although he
hadn’t heard so much as one of the women tutting, let alone a
report from a fire arm, or angry shouts in the local lingo.
The easy and correct option was to leg it to the emergency RV
(rendez vous point) they had agreed on, four days earlier on their
egress into the isolated collection of huts and caves. The
emergency rendezvous was a shallow dip covered by scrub and
bushes, deep enough for three men with full kit to be hidden well
enough from sight. The rocks and density of the foliage still
allowed them to have eyes on the nearest of the huts.
Tom thought for a moment, weighing up his options he
decided to follow Jules's example and break with procedure. He
would argue the semantics of his decision later over a cold beer
back in camp, but for now, he was going to find out where Jules
was and get him to the ERV.
The moon had been partially covered by cloud up until then,
and the sudden increase in light caused Tom to involuntarily jump.
18

It was still dark, but the difference was as if a torch had been
replaced with a night sun from a helicopter.
The alleys running up towards the caves were still in complete
darkness, and as Tom ran through them towards where he had last
seen Jules, he was aware that any number of X rays could have
been crouched down in the darkness. They would have been able
to gut him like a fish before he could have been aware of them, a
stark thought but not enough to deter his foolhardy break neck run
through the village.
At the intersection they had last crossed together, he stopped,
although he was super fit as all the troopers were, the thinner air
and less than perfect diet over the past few days, along with long
periods of inactivity, were taking their toll. He forgot all efforts to
conceal himself and fell onto his knees, puffing and wheezing, he
felt weaker than he should but shrugged this off. His head
thumping as the blood was hurtling round his body. The noise he
was making seemed to be the only sounds in the village, and again,
he fought to control his functions enough to give him a chance to
hear the background sounds that often gave people away. The
rustle of two legs in a pair of trousers, the gentle wheeze of air
from a closed mouth, the crack of a floorboard as the prey shifts
their weight. As his awareness increased, the sounds came to him.
There was nothing untoward or out of place. The insects that spent
the night buzzing about could still be heard, as could the distant
sighing of the wind through the twin peaks of the mountain, it was
what was missing that concerned Tom. The usual background
noises of the people in the caves was gone, the clatter of a pan,
some shouted remark, the arguing of the women, it just wasn’t
there.
He stood for a moment, obscured by the shadow in the alley,
looking out into the open ground where he had last seen Jules. He
could make out some small details that he thought could be boot
prints, but the light cast by the moon wasn’t strong enough. He
willed himself to notice something of use, anything that he could
piece together to get any idea of where Jules had gone. He had
turned his head towards the edge of the village; away from where
they had been working, hoping he had simply taken the quickest
route out of Dodge.
19

The night was suddenly alive with the unmistakeable crack of
small arms fire, the entrance of the cave was suddenly lit with
bursts of light followed by a halo left on the eye, showing the
sudden absence of the bright light.
As Tom began to run toward the gunfire, he raised his small
compact machine pistol and cracked the firing pin into position. As
he crossed the last few yards, the safety was flicked into automatic,
he didn’t know what was going down, but he sure as hell was
going to be ready for anything once he got there.
There was mere seconds between the first shots being fired
and Tom getting outside the cave entrance. A deep whoomping
sound began. The unmistakeable sound of an AK 47, 7.62 rounds,
could be heard crashing into rock and clay, the blanket must have
been shot down, as light suddenly burst from the entrance, and
Tom took a deep breath then swung himself round the edge of the
entrance, gun up into his shoulder ready to fire.
The scene before him was utter chaos. There were four or five
men lying across a small fire, clearly dead or dying. All wore the
linen rags that passed for clothes in this part of the world. Two, of
the fives heads were covered in traditional Arab style, blood was
seeping through the rags onto their faces, others were bleeding out
of their chest. Another man trying to stand despite a wound to his
chest, was waving the AK47 shouting something about Allah,
while just inside the door, Jules was on his side on the ground. His
pistol out in front, the trigger was engaged but it had emptied its
magazine and he was at the Arabs mercy. Tom sighted down his
short barrel and opened up into the man’s chest and stomach,
centre body mass it was called in drills, and it was your best
chance of taking someone down with such a small weapon.
Headshots look good, but if there is a miss, there won’t be a
chance to adjust the aim. So, hit the big heavy target zone and most
likely, one would not have to worry about return fire.
As the Arab fell back under the impact of the rounds, Tom
rushed forward into the cave; he quickly reconnoitred the room and
ascertained there were no further X-rays, then jumped down beside
Jules to check his vitals.
Jules was conscious, although he had to be relieved of his
pistol, as he wouldn’t let go of the trigger. Tom rolled him onto his
back, and ran his eyes over him, looking for the wounds he knew
20

he would find. The most obvious place was his chest, which was a
mess of torn BDU and blood. There was another wound to the
shoulder, which seemed less serious and Tom went into medic
mode, tearing stuff from his Bergen to push into the wound, while
fumbling around for the morphine injection in his kit.
He worked for about ten minutes, always aware of the threat
of some more of the villagers coming to see what had happened,
but concentrating on doing what was required to give Jules the best
chance of surviving until the medivac team could be brought in.
Satisfied he had done the most immediate work necessary, he
got onto the satellite receiver and called in the details of the
contact, and Jules current condition. The voice on the other end of
the radio was calm and almost disinterested as Tom literally
shouted his requirements into the receiver’s microphone.
“He’s conscious but losing lots of blood. He’s O neg, tell them
that and get them here fast, no combatants are in the area to the
best of my knowledge. I’ll put a beacon out as soon as I can leave
him for a minute, over.”
His throat was dry and his voice croaky, but he knew the
young lady at the other end was trained to deal with this kind of
stuff. In fact, it was far too common in this day and age and she
would have gotten the important details.
“The helicopter is on its way, eta fifteen minutes; they’ll need
that beacon to land so get it out there ASAP, over.”
Tom looked down at Jules, his colour wasn’t good, he was
pale, and his breathing was wheezy and laboured. He seemed
awake, but wasn’t looking at anything particular, just open eyes
staring into the gloom outside the cave front.
Seeing as he had no choice, Tom pulled a beacon from his
pack and headed to the area of the ERV. They had chosen it not
just for the good cover, but the fact there was room to land a
chopper. No good meeting miles from safety was there, he dumped
the beacon into the middle of the open ground and ran back to the
cave. If he was going to get Jules to the chopper, he was going to
have to move him soon. They wouldn’t want to hang around on the
ground any longer than necessary, in case their obvious presence
attracted a local with an old rifle to have a crack at them for the
hell of it, it happened often and any bullet is a danger especially in
a helicopter.
21

He checked Jules breathing and spoke loudly and clearly
“Sorry mate this is gonna hurt like hell but I gotta get you up to the
ERV, the choppers on route and we need to be there when they
arrive, okay?”
Jules looked at him vaguely, aware of his words but unable to
nod or answer. The morphine could do that just as much as any
wounds Tom thought, he felt better thinking that. The copter was
audible for a few minutes before it was possible to make out the
blinking lights of it undercarriage. Tom could almost have wept to
see them. Jules hadn’t moved since he had laid him as gently as he
could onto the dusty ground.
He ran back to the hut to reclaim his Bergen, then went to
their hut and got Jules’s along with his MP5K, it wouldn’t do to
have some crack pot Taliban finding it and using it on one of Toms
allies, and there would be an inquiry at the very least, if any
equipment was lost to the enemy on a supposed undercover
operation.
The beacon had done its job and the choppers downwash
threw dust and grit into the air.
Tom looked at Jules. He hadn’t even closed his eyes to avoid
the debris. He was breathing, but only just and as the medic
jumped onto the ground, Tom was relieved to have some
professional company for his mate.
22

Chapter Three
The Medical block was the coolest building in the massive
complex, where everywhere else was dust covered and sweaty,
these halls and rooms were clean and airy. In normal
circumstances, this would have been a good thing, but Tom had no
time to bless his newly found comfort. He was worn out, having
been awake for the last thirty odd hours and worrying about Jules
had only increased the stress, and therefore the fatigue. He was
dog tired, and he was still struggling with his breathing. The
exertions clearly taking more of a toll than seemed normal.
The chopper had taken what seemed like an age to get to the
heli pad outside the medical unit, although it had been less than
twenty minutes to everyone else involved. The rush from the
medivac site into the ER room was a blur, as questions were
shouted at him, no time in between to gather his thoughts or ask
anything himself. They wanted to know the ins and outs of a gnats
arse as far as Tom could tell. He got the obvious ones but there
were some just stupid questions that he struggled to answer, and as
he stumbled over the words they rushed him on, it was like a new
viscous form of interrogation he hadn’t been trained to withstand.
As they disappeared into a brightly lit room, Tom was told to
sit outside and await any further questions. An orderly fetched him
a cup of cheap vending machine coffee, and he sat and tried to
gather himself.
Jules had lost a lot of blood that much he knew. They had
given him an emergency transfusion on the chopper, the blood
group info had been used, thank God, but what else Jules was
facing he couldn’t guess. The wound wasn’t the same as a regular
blast wound. A smallish hole with lots of blood pumping out, and
usually an exit wound, many times the size of the entry, Jules had
no exit wound and the front of his chest was a mess of torn flesh.
Whatever hit him was designed to cause maximum damage, but
was it intended to penetrate? If he felt like guessing, he would have
judged it a shotgun wound, although not all the characteristics
were consistent, but he had heard the AK, and seen it in the Arabs
23

hands. He had been firing the fucking thing when he killed him,
there wasn’t anything else that could have done the damage and
not if he was making sense of the evidence he had seen and heard
at the scene of the contact. He would have to get his head around
this stuff pretty soon as they would be grilling him pretty hard
about why the contact had occurred, and why exactly Jules had
opened up on the X rays. Fact was Tom had no idea. No one did,
except Jules, and he was knee deep in his own emergency right
now. Maybe the data off of the listening device would shed some
light on it, if not, he was fucked if he couldn’t explain any of it.
The cool air was making Tom sneeze, air conditioning didn’t
suit everyone and his fatigue was starting to slow everything down.
He felt drowsy and dirty and his eyes seemed to have a desert’s
worth of sand under the eyelids, he was wheezing a little but
couldn’t worry about any of this right now.
A nurse walked by and into the room, and seconds later a few
others came out, all in the same green scrubs, no sign of who was
senior or in charge. To Tom’s sensibilities this was fucked up, you
always had to be able to identify your commander. He saw
everything in terms of military life, and as this was an Army
hospital, he thought the same rules should apply. As the big double
doors were opened a crack to let someone else out, he looked into
the room hoping for some idea of how things were going inside. It
was when he realized that the room was emptying of staff, that he
became worried. He tried to get someone’s attention but they all
walked on by, weary expressions on their faces, it had been a good
four hours since they had started on Jules, so it was understandable
they would be drained by the intensity of their work.
Tom could sympathise, but he wanted to know what was
going on. He knew he must have looked like shit, but he wasn’t in
the mood to be treated like it. He stood up and put himself in front
of one of the green-garbed men, obstructing his path.
“Listen mate, what’s going on, how is he? I’m his oppo, I
brought him in, I'm like family, and you can tell me.”
The doctor, a tall handsome Australian surgeon, seemed
annoyed to be accosted in this way but bit his lip as he replied,
“We did everything we could for him, he’s still alive but he’s not
expected to pull through, I’m sorry.”
24

He paused to allow Tom to process his words and then said,
“They have taken him through to ICU where they’ll make him
comfortable for now, if you wait five minutes, one of the nurses
will take you round to him. I’m sorry, but I have to go, we’ve got
another couple of lads from an IED on the way in.”
He pushed past Tom, who was stunned by his words.
“Not likely to pull through, was that the same as dead, or was
there an outside chance for him? If he was dying he would have
said as much, surely,” Tom thought aloud.
He sat back down heavily into the moulded plastic chair.
Jules couldn’t be dying, that was preposterous, he was the most
alive bloke Tom knew.
“He had been through absolute hell and come out unscathed
time and time again, there was no way he could be on the way out,
a mistake, that’s what it was, they hadn’t reckoned on Jules’s
survival instincts, that’s all. Easy mistake to make, no, he would go
round to see him in a minute or so and he’d probably be sitting up
with that big white grin of his,” Tom thought.
Tom had met Jules years before he had joined the regiment, at
an exercise in Germany for the Para’s and Royal Marines. It had
been a complete fuck up, the weather had turned bad and most of
the exercise had to be cancelled, the snow had fallen in drifts and
although they were equipped for anything, men were caught out in
the worst November blizzards in modern history. Tom had
managed to avoid the worst of the storm and was one of the guys
tasked with locating the rest of his squadron.
With him, had been a lanky older guy from the marines, Jules
DeSavery. Jules was mixed race.
His father was a Grenadian, who had left the island life to be a
soldier.
Jules had been born in Germany, on an Army base to his white
mother, a farm girl from Norwich, and spent his early life moving
from base to base around Europe and occasionally spending
summers in Grenada with his grandparents. He had signed on to
the Navy when he was old enough to do so without his mother’s
permission.
Jules’s dad had left them years ago, leaving the service had hit
him hard and he took to the drink, eventually ending up a wino on
the streets of Leeds. He had intended to be a sailor, but while he
25

was sitting filling in the forms, a marine recruitment officer sat
next to him and began selling him on life in the marine
commandos. There was a bit of a rivalry amongst the recruiters, so
when the Navy guy came out and saw he had lost out on another
recruit, there was a fair bit of slagging off the green berets to Jules
while he sat and waited for the aptitude test.
Jules had been the ideal candidate for the glory boys of the
Marines. He was tall, slim with pale brown skin, and he was very
handsome. His charming smile could open many doors and when
Tom first met him, he too had just been promoted, to sergeant.
They had worked all night together on the search and rescue,
and in the end everyone agreed this had been a much more useful
experience than the intended exercises. They had enjoyed working
together and enjoyed each other’s company, swapping barrack
room tales and generally bitching as soldiers will always do when
given the chance.
They didn’t meet up again until Jules waltzed into the mess
room at the Lines, just a few weeks after Tom had joined the
regiment. They had become great friends in the intervening years.
Tom spent weekends at Jules’s house, with Ellen and young
Saffron, as well as a few holidays. He loved to be around the
normal life these people seemed to have, they loved each other and
let it show in so many ways, and this had been alien to Tom.
His mother had smothered him and he never felt loved just
mollycoddled and restricted, which would have destroyed her if
she had known. Over the years, Tom had grown to love Jules’s
family as much as they did him, and Jules was like a brother he
never had. He couldn’t have imagined the day when Jules found
out Ellen, up until now a model wife and mother had been
shagging some little wanker who worked at her office.
Jules had been utterly devastated at the time, and Tom spent
many a night sharing a bottle of rum while his mate sobbed and
begged him to find a way to make things better again. They had
discussed finding the bastard but Jules finally succumbed to logic,
he wasn’t the cheat she was.
This had been a year ago, and the subject was still a little raw
for the pair of them, although mainly because Jules seemed to have
forgiven her and moved on. Whereas, Tom was still very angry
with Ellen about it all, in truth, she had smashed his newly found
26

family apart and he was as angry for himself as he was for Jules
and Saffy.
His eyes were beginning to droop, when a young man in a
crisp uniform came along the corridor to take Tom to the ICU, the
short walk felt twice as far to Tom. He was bone tired but had to
stay together and with it, to be of any use to Jules. They turned into
another corridor then along past a bank of rooms with service
personnel in differing states of health, some hooked up to
machines, others just lying there with white sheets covering where
their missing legs would have been.
They got to the last door on the left and turned into it. The
lighting was a lot dimmer than in the hall, and a huge lamp
attached to his headboard lighted Jules. There was a bank of
screens to his left and a huge bag of black red blood on a hook to
his right. Tubes seemed to be coming out of every available
orifice; his arms were plumbed in as well for good measure. The
nurse just pointed out the plastic chair near the foot of the bed and
turned without comment. Tom wanted to ask questions but his
fuddled mind couldn’t think of anything sensible. Jules was pale,
which for a man of colour was a neat trick, instead of the creamy
brown caramel his skin was almost oriental in caste, a sickly
yellow that didn’t bode well in Toms mind.
The room was very quiet, none of the rhythmic beeping he had
seen in TV shows. The screens were constantly changing as data
was fed from sensors attached to Jules’s chest and head, but there
was no noise except Jules’s heavy rasping breath. He had tubes up
his nostrils and a pipe in his mouth but otherwise his face was
exposed, he looked peaceful, like he had just dropped off for a
power nap, he was always power napping on ops. Tom would give
him hell for it, but it was all harmless fun, they were Jules’s stress
reliever and he was never so far gone as to be of no use in an
emergency.
“Hello mate, it’s me, “He paused to give Jules a chance to
react, he wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to but it was polite
to do so. “You’ve gone and fucked up this time ain’t you mate?
They ain’t gonna give you a promotion anytime soon if you can’t
even go on a simple spying mission without getting yourself
fucked up are they?”
27

He was smiling as he spoke and didn’t know why, he didn’t
feel like there was anything worth smiling about but he just
assumed you should put on a cheerful face for the patient, it would
make them feel more confident if you could smile about things
still.
“I’ve been thinking about your little mission for me mate, and
I reckon we might need to do a bit of double teaming on this one. I
do good cop, you do bad, and Saffy won’t know what way to turn.
She’ll go running back to mum just to have someone on her side,
what do you reckon mate? Good idea, yeah?”
The machines carried on switching from screen to screen and
nothing else in the room changed, Jules just laid there. His
breathing even but weak, the bag of fluid next to the bed had a
small drip of condensation running along its edge that dripped
slowly onto the sterile floors. Tom felt totally helpless and he
didn’t like it, he was the master of his world, he had trained to do
things most people couldn’t even conceive of, yet here he was
unable to even get his mate to wake up and speak to him. He sat in
the cheap blue chair and settled down for a moment, just a few
seconds of shuteye while he waited for someone to come in and
give him some news.
Three and half hours had passed when Tom woke with a start,
he had been reliving the extraction from the mission. Jules had
been able to talk in his dream, and all he kept speaking about was
Tom getting Saffy and Ellen back together, nothing about the
wound or what had made him react the way he did, just Saffy and
Ellen.
They had managed to get into the chopper but instead of
medics, it had been filled with Taliban, as one of them pulled a pin
on an old fashion pineapple grenade, Tom jumped awake.
There was an older nurse in the room, a typical matronlylooking
lady with a set of the ubiquitous green scrubs on.
“You’re awake then? There’s been a couple of officers
looking for you. The surgeon told us to leave them looking for a
while, as your up, I’ll let them know where you are.”
She flicked the tube of drugs running from the drip; the clear
liquid bubbled for a moment then settled back down.
“How is he? Any change?”
28

She turned towards him a practiced smile on her face, her
sympathetic face she called it, “ No son, there’s not likely to be
any change unfortunately, we’re just making him comfortable until
he slips away, it’s hard I know but he won’t be feeling anything.”
Tom gulped, his throat was parched but he had a lump there
and he looked at his feet to hide his emotions.
“Are you saying there’s no chance then? He’s a fighter this
one, if anyone could get through this it’s him. I mean, if there’s
even a tiniest chance he could pull through I wouldn’t bet against
him.”
She shook her head, again with the sympathetic smile, “It’s
not like that, there is simply no chance he could survive the
internal injuries he sustained, let alone the blood loss and possible
brain damage that would have caused.”
She checked the screen one last time and patted Tom on the
shoulder as she walked past him towards the door, “I’ll get
someone to bring you a cuppa before we tell the guys looking for
you where you are.”
“Thanks love,” Tom looked again at his feet.
He had never felt so completely useless in his life, here he was
right there next to his best mate with some of the best people in
their fields right there under the same roof and he was going to die,
just to think of the words brought tears to his eyes. He had lost
mates before, of course, but this was different. Jules had seemed
immortal somehow, whenever the shit hit the fan, he never once
worried about Jules. He was the super soldier the regiment had
built its reputation on.
Tom finally got up out the chair, his back was stiff from sitting
on the uncomfortable plastic and he groaned as he stretched out his
tired muscles. He needed a piss and he had to stretch his legs, Jules
hadn’t so much as blinked since he last looked at him, so he was
confident nothing untoward would happen if he stepped out for a
moment or two. The cuppa hadn’t materialized yet, he was
desperately thirsty, a little hungry, and there was a slightly
nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He wandered out into the hall and stopped a harassed looking
nurse on her way past him to ask where the canteen was. He knew
there would be a head nearby so couldn’t be arsed to try and get
two sets of directions at once. Satisfied he could navigate there
29

with the instructions in hand, it still took him five minutes to get
there. The homogenous aspect of the building made working out
where you were difficult, so getting from A to B was nigh on
impossible without decent instructions, and nurses may be adept at
all things physical but giving directions was clearly not their
strongest point.
In the end, his nose gave him the final clue. The enticing
aroma of hot food, a mixture of many differing smells all at once
drew Tom through the last set of double doors into the dining hall.
As expected, two signed doors were just outside that denoted the
male and female toilets. He took a quick pee, and then moved on
into the queue for food. It was just as he had picked up his tray, a
huge American marine was in front of him chatting away loudly
into his mobile phone, that he realized he had no money on him.
Apart from his uniform and dog tags, he was naked, his bergen
had been dumped inside the entrance as they had arrived. The
emphasis on Jules meant he hadn’t really cared at the time, but
now he was standing in a queue for food without any way of
paying for it, and he was fucking starving by now. This had to be
rectified and at once, but how was he going to manage it.
He poked the shoulder of the big guy in front and said, “Mate,
is this a pay restaurant or what, is it like a mess hall cos I'm
barrasic, and I need some grub urgently.”
The yank looked bemused for a moment, and just shook his
head and said, “Sorry buddy, I didn’t get a word of that, something
about bars or something.”
Tom was just about to try again when he was poked in the
back by a short ginger guy in scrubs, with his freckled face and
shaven head he could have been anything from twelve to twenty
five.
“There’s no charge in here mate, it’s service personnel only,
so it’s a mess hall technically, just take what you need and go back
if you want more, never seen anyone go back for seconds, yet
mind,” he smiled as he spoke.
He had a thick Northern Irish accent that may have been hard
for someone to understand but Toms time in the province stood
him in good stead this once.
30

“Cheers pal, I might just break tradition, I’ve been eating
nothing but beans and MRE for a week, and nothing since, I think
it was yesterday morning, what day is it anyway?”
“Saturday, you look like you need a good night’s sleep as
much as grub mate, no offence or anything.”
Tom nodded, he was close to the front now and the smells
were making him salivate. He could see the trays of food as he
managed to look past the substantial girth of the American, the
bright lights illuminated a plethora of meats in sauces with what
seemed to be pasta and rice, and what looked like mashed potatoes
and of course chips.
“I don’t care what it is I’m gonna have a fucking huge pile of
it and something sweet to drink as well,” he thought as the yank
asked if there were any French fries available.
“There’s fucking chips mate” the server barked back.
Suitably informed, the yank pushed his tray along the rail, and
Tom began to direct the server’s spoon to as many things as he
could get onto his plate.
Just as he finished his second bottle of chocolate milk, his
food almost all gone, a pair of officious looking men entered
through a door opposite the one Tom had used. They looked
around for a moment and homed in on Tom. He wondered how
they could have spotted him, but then realized he was still caked in
dust and shit and must have stood out like a sore thumb amongst
the hospital staff and occasional visitor.
“Tom Goulding I presume?” The younger of the two men
spoke first.
Tom stood to attention as he recognized one of the Captains
from 6 troop, the other guy he didn’t know but assumed he was an
officer.
“Yessir, just getting some tucker before going back to
Sergeant DeSavery, sir.”
“Sit lance corporal, you’ve earned a bit of grub I should think
after a week in the fucking mountains, been a fucking tough night
in one way or another I understand?”
They took the seats opposite Tom across the melamine surface
of the canteen table.
“You could say that sir, I’ve definitely had better nights, have
they told you about Jules, I mean Sergeant DeSavery sir?”
31

The other older man spoke next, “Yes, very unfortunate stuff,
all part of the game I suppose, but terribly sad nonetheless. I'm
Major Carson by the way, in charge of the Intel side of things for
the Op you guys were on. I have a couple of quick questions for
you lance corporal, if you don’t mind?”
Tom looked at each of the men. They were dressed identically
in black, as if they were about to go on ops in a night-time raid of
some sort. Carson was a typical officer type, average height with
tidy dark hair and the obligatory moustache, neatly clipped of
course. Captain Brooks on the other hand was out of place in the
ranks of commissioned officers. He was especially tall and broad,
to the point that it looked uncomfortable to be that big. He had a
cleanly shaven head and pock marked face, he gleamed in the
artificial light and Tom couldn’t help thinking of his nickname
among the lads, ‘Gollum the Giant’.
“Of course sir, anything I can help with I’m only too happy,
problem is I don’t really know what happened at all. Jules came
out of the cave and told me to scarper. He didn’t follow me back to
our LUP, so I gathered my gear and retraced my steps, that’s when
things went noisy and the next thing I knew, I was putting down
some Arab and Jules was already down. I didn’t see him get hit
and I certainly don’t know what got him so excited in the first
place, he never said a word sir.”
Both men looked at each other; this wasn’t what they’d
wanted to hear, clearly.
“Well, do you at least know how many x rays there were in
the cave? Was there any listening devices in place we might be
able to get data from? Anything like that?” the tone wasn’t as
pleasant as they had been at the start, but it was clear they were
frustrated by Toms ignorance of the facts.
“Yeah, we had a listening device with a recorder, Jules was
using it as he was closer to the back of the cave, they were
speaking Arabic and I’m a Pashtu speaker, sods law I guess. So he
took the lead role, I was just eyes on, checking we weren’t
disturbed by a visitor from one of the other caves. Sir, as for how
many, I think I counted six in total, three from the pickup truck and
three we had been watching all week. That left a few unaccounted
for, but they weren’t in the cave we were listening in on for sure
sir.”
32

Carson nodded, “so three were definitely from our bogey
vehicle, we were right to think something was a foot with those
guys, remind me to commend Jonesy for the good call, captain,
when we get back.”
Brooks nodded and pulled out a folder he had been carrying.
He opened it up and removed some photos, putting them down in
front of Tom, who was pushing his plates out of the way to make
space.
Each one was a grainy shot, clearly taken from a distance, in
black and white with three different men, all wearing traditional
Afghan dress and heavily bearded in the Islamic style.
“Any of these your visitors from Kandahar? We think we may
have been very lucky with this one, at least from an operational
point of view, not discounting Sergeant DeSavery’s condition of
course.”
Tom picked the photos up to get a better look, his eyes felt
terrible, as if he had rubbed sand into them all night, so he found it
hard to focus very well. This and the poor quality made it hard to
identify any of the men positively.
“It’s possible, sir, we were quite a way back when we spotted
them going into the cave, they certainly could be, but if you’ll
pardon the implication sir, they all look the fucking same to me,
big beards and head scarves, sorry I can’t be any more help, sir.”
Carson tutted and shook his head, “ I know what you’re saying
Goulding, but it’s very important we identify these men, if it was
them your mate sprung in on, then this could be big news for the
allies. These men are top-level Al-Qaida and proof we have taken
them out would be a huge coup, not just for the regiment but the
war effort in general. I suppose we will have to send in a team to
recce the scene but the chances of finding them are almost nil, but
there may be some DNA or something we can use. Any idea where
the listening equipment is right now?”
Tom shook his head, “Sorry sir, if it was on Jules, then it’s
probably in his trauma bag. If not it’ll be lying around the cave I
expect. It wasn’t a priority at the time, I just wanted to get him to
the chopper as soon as I could, I did retrieve his kit and weapon
though, sir, so no worries on that front.”
Brooks looked thoroughly pissed off by that.
33

“I wouldn’t worry about some random soldiers kit Lance
Corporal. That listening device is the most vital thing right now, it
could hold the key to all of this, it would have been a higher
priority than you imagined. I’d have thought you as a professional
would have understood that at the time, to say I’m disappointed
isn’t putting it in anywhere harsh enough terms.”
Tom flushed red at the insinuation, “Sorry, sir.”
He was fighting to control his temper and not raise his voice,
“I have always been lead to believe that our comrades are our
priority. I get that this is a major pain for your guys, but I fail to
see how I was supposed to have been expected go looking for
some piece of cheap as shit equipment, when my oppos life is on
the line.”
Carson raised a placatory hand, as he looked at Brooks.
“I’m sorry Goulding. I can see this is a bad time for us to have
this chat, but I think you need to realise this isn’t about two
soldiers in an anonymous mountain village anymore, it’s a much
bigger deal than that. What Capt. Brooks is trying to convey is our
disappointment that the Intel wasn’t extricated along with your
injured friend, this is hard for us too, we put you guys out there at
risk and we don’t take any casualty lightly, especially not someone
as highly rated as DeSavery.”
Brooks nodded along as he spoke and Tom could feel the
hours of fatigue building up within him. He couldn’t give a shit
about the apparent loss of some Intel, his best mate was all but
dead and he just wanted to be there at the end then go and sleep for
a month.
“I’m sorry, sirs, I didn’t mean to be rude, it’s just I haven’t
had a proper kip for days, Jules is not just another trooper, he’s my
best mate and if I could help, I would, honestly, but right now I
don’t have anything of use for you. If you leave the pics, I’ll have a
better look after I’ve had a rest. I might be able to confirm them
then, it’s the best I can do right now sir, sorry, sirs.”
The two officers shared a knowing look; Carson spoke as they
rose from their seats, leaving the three pics behind.
“You have nothing to apologize for young man. We
understand the pressures you’re under, we do, so just take your
time, look at the photos and get back to us. We’ll need to do a full
34

debrief, anyway. In the meantime check DeSavery’s kit and gear
for the device and let us know if you find anything.”
They plodded out of the canteen without looking back,
seemingly locked in discussion as they went. Tom lifted his arms
above his head to stretch out and sighed. This was turning out to be
a truly shit day.
35

Chapter Four
Jules DeSavery died in the early hours of Sunday morning.
Tom was at his side and a couple of guys not on ops had come in
to the room as well. They stood around chatting about the same old
shit, trying to include Jules in their chats. Asking if he remembered
this or that event, some crazy scrape they had gotten out of before,
or when so and so had fucked up, and they had been required to
cover for them.
When he did pass, they pulled out a few cans of lager and
toasted him there and then. Tom shed a few sneaky tears and the
other guys pretended not to notice, there wasn’t the big macho
thing within the regiment as there was in other units, but it was still
a private moment for a man to lose such a close friend, especially
after such a hard effort to save his life.
Once the formalities were dealt with, the recording device was
nowhere to be seen, they drove Tom back through the Afghan
night to their operational base. He said very little on the drive, he
slept for a while but he kept replaying his dream, each time
something different woke him but it was always the same theme,
failure.
The next few days had been spent on debrief and arranging for
Jules’s stuff to be packed up and sent home, Tom was gutted to
learn his stuff would be sent to Ellen. As they hadn’t divorced, and
he hadn’t changed any of his next of kin information, she was still
technically his closest relative.
Tom had tried to get in touch with Saffy on the mobile number
he had for her but it said that it was out of use, this was typical of
her generation, a new contract every year to get the latest bells and
whistles mobile. With it came a new number, and they seldom told
everyone they should of the changeover. He wasn’t too pleased but
not unduly concerned, he just wanted her to know he’d been there
at the end and although he couldn’t give her any real detail, he
wouldn’t have been able to explain the reasons he’d died, he
thought she’d like to know what he did know.
36

He didn’t have anything to base this assumption on, but none
the less he was intending to speak to her.
The special team had combed the cave where it had all gone
down. They no longer worried about alerting the rest of the
villagers of their interest in the now deceased inhabitants of the
cave. Those who hadn’t been involved in the incident appeared to
have upped sticks and gone elsewhere, taking with them anything
of real interest from the scene. There was no sign of the data
recorder, although they found some pieces of smashed electronics,
which suggested that the equipment had been hit when Jules was
shot. The guns had been taken, along with the bodies, but there
was plenty of DNA evidence lying around. Blood splatter, hair and
the contents of bowels that had been released in their death throes.
As they didn’t have much in the way of evidence that the dead
Arabs had been the three they had suspected, Tom assumed they
would have just left it as it was, but the yanks had released details
of the “confirmed kill” of the likely suspects. As usual, no mention
of the regiments work, just an allied operation that had resulted in
the deaths of three major players. It was always the same with the
Yanks, if they had carried it out it was an American operation, but
if they weren’t involved on the ground, it was them and their allies.
Tom couldn’t have given a shit who claimed responsibility, they
were dead, tough shit, and all he cared about was losing Jules.
No one could explain why he reacted the way he did, what
could have been going on that had made him break operational
rules, and then instead of just bugging out, go back, without a
proper assault weapon and take on six terrorists. It made no sense,
and none of the theories bandied about made much sense,
The guys talked about this stuff all the time, what if this
happened, or that, but it was barrack room bullshit and none of
them could really have any decent idea of the events. Tom was
there and didn’t have the foggiest.
He encountered Carson and Brooks again, but it was clear they
didn’t have anything to say to him. He had fucked up in their eyes,
so they just sat in on the debrief, asked a couple of inane questions
about operational stuff but nothing too deep.
Tom was at a loss as to the reasons things went the way they
did. He did a thorough break down on the X ray he’d personally
finished off, this was now the norm, gone were the days when you
37

shot the enemy and moved on. Now, there had to be an enquiry,
fair enough it was just a procedural thing, but in the circumstances
it was just a pain in the arse.
As the other guys came back from their own ops, they all
heard the news. There was plenty of shoulder patting going on,
they all got on with Jules, some had served in the marines with him
and they all took it badly, but it was part of the life they led and
things soon went back to the bantering and mildly racist abuse they
subjected each other to.
It was towards the end of the Sunday morning that Tom began
to feel a bit sick, nothing was coming up but he had the same
nauseous feeling he’d had at the hospital. He’d assumed it had
been stress and hunger that had caused it then, but now he wasn’t
so sure. It continued for a few more days before he took any real
notice. He had been shot, hit by bricks and thrown from a moving
vehicle without any big drama, he wasn’t going to let a bit of
queasiness get him down.
By the following Wednesday, he was aware of a few other
things that alone wouldn’t have meant anything. His appetite was
gone, he put this down to the nausea but he wasn’t drinking as
often as he should either, he had a bit of wheeziness when he woke
in the morning that was taking longer and longer to subside and he
generally felt weak and shitty. He had always been very fit,
possibly a bit obsessive about it in the past, so he wasn’t used to
the feeling this malaise had caused. The base had a medical officer,
but what was he supposed to say? “I’m a bit sick and not up to
much.”
Man flu in other words, at least in Toms mind anyway. So he
didn’t bother and carried on with the rigmarole of daily life,
weapons training, daily meetings and poor food and little else to do
other than lie in his hammock and read some outrageously bad
action thrillers.
By the Saturday, a week after the incident he was looking pale
and sweaty, he had that shiny gleam of the unwell, although being
in a desert this wasn’t picked up as anything unusual. He had been
quiet, quieter than usual, but again he had just lost a dear friend.
What would you expect in the circumstance?, In short, no one was
paying any attention to his slow descent physically, and he wasn’t
about to tell anyone how he was feeling, it was just not his way. It
38

was coming up to noon and they had been over to the main part of
the base, where the Americans had set up a McDonalds, Starbucks
and the like.
The grocery store sold everything they could imagine and the
lads went a couple of times a week to stock up on the kind of crap
they all should have been avoiding, if they wanted to keep their
fitness levels up.
Tom was driving, as some of the lads had been on the beer the
night before, and he had a stinking headache that bright sunlight
only exacerbated, even through his Bausch and Lomb’s. They
pulled up outside the wooden shack that served as a base and Tom
threw the keys of the jeep to a waiting colleague who had been
asked to take some gear over to the main base. As he turned away,
he lost his footing and fell heavily onto the deck, he had no time to
put out his hands and fell with a heavy head onto the hard packed
dirt, grazing his forehead and cheek in the process.
The two other lads laughed at first, it was just a comical slip to
them but when he struggled to get up and couldn’t co-ordinate his
arms and legs they rushed over to help him up. They at first
thought he had concussed himself in the fall and helped him into
the shade one of them went to grab something cold to put onto the
swollen area on his forehead. He was conscious but not coherent
and they began to worry he had done some real damage in the fall.
A senior officer came out, assuming he had been on the beer the
night before and was just suffering a bit; he wasn’t very
sympathetic until he looked into Toms eyes and saw their
glassiness. He was out on his feet, awake but barely able to make
any sense, this didn’t seem like a simple head wound and he got
the communications officer to raise a medical team to have a good
look at him.
While they were waiting, some of the other lads on their way
into the mess for some lunch, stopped to see what the score was,
they weren’t too worried and made jokes with each other, called
Tom a few choice names and generally tried to make light of
things. It was the way of things in the military, they meant no
harm, and if they knew the full circumstances, they wouldn’t have
been any different most likely. Tom was only vaguely aware of
any of this at the time. He could hear voices and make out
indistinct shapes in his field of vision but he couldn’t speak
39

properly to ask what was happening, he was panicking, thinking he
was drugged or poisoned but that made no sense, he was in the
base, as safe a place as you could get in a war zone, and the area
they were shacked up in was off limits to everyone else. No one
could have got to him, even if they had by some strange quirk of
fate wanted to, his body was shutting down, the heat, although he
was shaded was still ridiculously high and he was pouring with
sweat. He had no fluids to replace those seeping out of him, and he
could feel his throat as a separate part of him, like a blazing hot
tube had been rammed down it. Breathing felt as if there was
someone pouring lava into his lungs. He wanted to speak, tell those
around him, whoever they were that he was dying. That he knew
he was poisoned and they should be finding some antidote as soon
as they could. His last thought, was they had managed to get to
him in the base, that no one was safe. As he slipped into
unconsciousness, he was wondering who “they” were.
It was late on the Sunday evening, when he finally woke up.
He was attached to a drip through his wrist and he had a mask over
his face. He was disoriented, and couldn’t remember where he had
been the last time he was awake. He was aware he was in a
hospital room. Only a week ago he had been in one just like it with
Jules but why and where was a mystery to him. He moved his head
to the side to get a better view around him. There was just a single
screen this time, with a few coloured lines moving up and down,
nothing like the bank of screens that had been in Jules room.
He wasn’t dying then, he thought, but what had happened?
When had he ended up here? Had he been in a contact or an IED
incident? Had he been injured? He felt soreness on his face, his
forehead had been patched up, his head ached, but he didn’t feel
hurt anywhere else. Surely, if he’d been hurt he would have felt the
pain. As he tried to make some sense of what small amount of
information he did have, a nurse popped in through the door
opposite where he lay.
“Oh, you’ve woken up, great I’ll just get a doctor, be a second
Hun ok?”
Before Tom could say a word, she had turned and left. As the
door slowly closed, he could hear faint sounds of the corridor
beyond, some talking and a squeaky trolley wheel, nothing to tell
him anything he could make sense of.
40

A few minutes lapsed, and then the nurse returned with
another lady, donned in greens scrubs. She looked to be in her
early thirties, although her hair was pulled so tightly into a blonde
ponytail it would have been hard to be certain. She was attractive
in a horsey kind of way and her small rimless spectacles gave her a
look of implied intelligence.
“Ah Mr. Goulding, you’re back with us, great to meet you at
last. I’m Dr. Susan Grey; have you any idea where you are?”
Tom looked around himself, and shook his head.
“In hospital, that’s it” he croaked weakly.
“Well yes, you’re in Kandahar at the Army medical Centre,
you passed out on Saturday lunch time, at Fob ROB as far as I
know, that make any sense to you?”
He nodded but didn’t speak, his throat was extremely sore and
he didn’t have anything to add.
“Well you were brought here for testing because they couldn’t
work out what had happened. I understand you had a bereavement
last week, and you were quite dehydrated as well, but that
wouldn’t explain everything that you were displaying, medically,
at least. We had to run some tests but we wanted you to be
conscious because they don’t tell us everything in isolation, out of
context if you get my meaning?”
Tom thought he did, but still didn’t get what had happened.
“Are you saying I’m ill, properly like not just a bout of
something, like a flu kind of thing?”
It hurt to speak, but he had to get some kind of idea of what
was happening to him. Dr Grey shook her head as she shined a
small pen light into his eyes, “We’re not saying anything just yet
Tom, you don’t mind if I call you Tom, do you?”
She didn’t wait for an answer as she carried on. “We just don’t
have enough information about you to make an informed
diagnosis; it’s not anything trivial that’s for sure.” She was looking
at his charts as she spoke, “ your blood tests tell us there is
something wrong, so be rest assured you’re not wasting our time
with a case of influenza, we won’t know anything until we do
some tests and x rays, just rest up and let us do our job.”
She turned to the other lady, also in scrubs, “Nurse Jenkins,
can you get him something to drink. I know he’s on fluids, but his
41

throat must be like the bottom of a bird’s cage right now, isn’t that
right Tom?”
He nodded his head gently smiling to show his agreement, he
didn’t feel any hunger funnily enough which considering he’d been
a long time without proper grub surprised him.
Over the next two days, he was subjected to all manner of
scans and X rays, he had more blood taken and although he wasn’t
hungry they forced him to eat a watery soup three times a day and
he was still connected to the fluid drip. He got to know a few of the
nurses. There was Gail Jenkins who he met when he first woke up,
and Deanna, an American Black woman who was super friendly
and very positive. They fussed over him for a few minutes then
disappeared for hours. He got no visitors, the lads were all
prepping for the next round of ops he guessed, and he was persona
non grata with the Ruperts as they called the officers, rather
disparagingly.
The lying in bed was boring and even when they wheeled in a
TV for him to watch, it was just old American reruns of the A
Team, Quincy and Magnum PI.
He slept a lot, which wasn’t normal for him, he tried not to
spend any length of time in bed, as he believed you had to use
every moment to its fullest. He was especially wound up on long
ops when lying in the same spot, but that was work, so he could
deal with it and he needed to keep his wits about him on
operations.
When he had been for his final set of scans, an MRI, he was
extremely fed up. He was getting impatient with the constant tests
without any feedback from the medical staff. Dr. Grey had popped
in on him the day before, and she spent a while chatting about
unrelated stuff.
She had been brought up in London not far from Tom’s home.
She was from Dulwich, he was a Brixton boy which although
geographically close, were poles apart on the social spectrum. The
chat was pleasant and a distraction but it left him feeling like she
was just being nice, because she knew something was wrong and
felt sorry for him. She was engaged to a major in the Green
Jackets, so he knew she wasn’t flirting or anything of the sort.
There had to be a reason for her chumminess and he could only
imagine it was sympathy, but what for?
42

When he finally got the news, he was thrown completely,
there had been a meeting of medical specialists in his room. Dr
Grey was there and a few high ranking medical people all looking
very serious.
“As you are all aware, Lance Corporal Goulding was brought
in from FOB Rob on Saturday evening, after apparently passing
out at noon the same day. He was assessed by the onsite medic
who wasn’t happy with what was being presented, so he forwarded
him onto us,” she licked her lips, the air conditioning playing
havoc with the moisture in her mouth.
“He was unconscious on arrival, we did immediate blood
works and awaited his return to conscious, the blood works threw
up some questions, and we proceeded to do some follow up tests.
He has had a CT scan, MRI and X rays to the chest, head and
thorax, which I believe you’ve all had access to?”
There was a round of nodding from all gathered. “We are here
to discuss the results, and explain to Mr. Goulding what we believe
is happening, and where we go from here. Dr. Khan, if you would
please start us off.”
Tom hadn’t even tried to remember the names of each
specialist, so was surprised when Dr. Khan turned out not to be the
short Asian looking doctor, but a tall balding white man.
“Well, Lance Corporal, we have looked at the results of our
MRI and the chest X Rays and there appeared to be a shadow on
your lungs, which we needed to look at and having investigated
everything, my colleagues and I believe we have found a tumor of
significant size.”
He paused to let Tom soak this in, looking around at the faces
of the other doctors. Tom hadn’t got anywhere near understanding
this tall well-spoken man. A tumor? That was like cancer, he didn’t
have cancer, he couldn’t, he didn’t smoke or do anything, they
were mistaken.
“I’m sorry, this must come as a shock to you, and I am sure
you will have some questions you need answering, but be rest
assured the Army is going to do everything possible to help you
through this. We have access to some of the finest specialists in the
world and if there is anything to be done, I can assure you it will
be”
43

“What do you mean can be done, you mean will be done
surely, sir, there must be something, I mean what’s a tumor doing
in my lungs that can’t be right can it? That’s like cancer isn’t it?”
He was getting flustered as he fought to come to terms with
what was being said.
Dr. Grey leaned forward to reassure him, “Calm down Tom,
Dr. Khan is saying we don’t yet know whether this is as serious as
cancer, it may be benign, we’ll have to do some surgery to find out
what we’re dealing with. Dr. Kapuur here is going to open you up
and do a biopsy on the tumor.”
She indicated the Asian gentleman to Toms left.
“I will be prepping you for surgery later this morning Mr.
Goulding, and I will see what we are truly dealing with. If
possible, I’ll remove any growths as a matter of course and
hopefully that will be that, of course if there is any malignancy,
there may be some follow up therapies, but let’s cross that bridge
when we come to it yes?”
“Quite right, “Khan piped up, “We only know that there is
something there and until we have done a thorough biopsy we
can’t start to make any decisions on follow up treatment,” he
looked around his colleagues as if looking for support for his
words “Again Tom, just be assured that you are in the very best of
hands here, we take your welfare extremely seriously and won’t
leave any stone unturned, as it were, to get you well again.” They
looked at each other again, the two that hadn’t spoken yet just
shrugged, Dr. Khan gestured for them all to leave and Tom was
alone for a moment. He was aware of Dr. Grey talking in hushed
tones outside the door, and then she came back in, a sympathetic
smile on her face.
“Are you okay Tom? I know you’re not, but I mean do you
understand everything? Is there anything I can do to help you
understand what’s going on?”
He was still dumbfounded, but he did have questions,
hundreds of them.
“I’m okay Susan I think. I don’t fully get what they were on
about, but I understand I’m going to have some surgery today,
right?”
She nodded, “ yes probably in about half an hour or so,
someone will be here to give you the pre op meds, then you’ll be
44

going under Captain Kapuur’s knife sometime after that” “ “Yeah,
I got that, but why do they need to do a biopsy, I’m not a smoker
why would they think it was cancer? I’ve not got anything else that
says it’s cancer do I? It doesn’t make sense why they think it’s
cancer.”
She sat with him for about twenty minutes trying to explain
the development of cancerous tissue, the link with smoking being
only one small part of the reasons people develop these tumors,
and when she finally left, he had a somewhat better idea of what
was going on, but he still couldn’t imagine how he fitted into this
whole situation. He wasn’t worried at any time, though. He
couldn’t see anything as simple as cancer killing him. He was
SAS; they didn’t get killed in mundane normal ways. It was bullets
and glory, yeah, a few suicides, but nothing as unglamorous as
cancer.
45

Chapter Five
It was raining outside, and the dripping of water from the
guttering was winding Saffron up. She lay in her bed, desperate to
sleep, but constantly aware of the tap, tap, tap of the water as it hit
a plastic bin lid beneath the leaking gutters. She needed to get
some sleep, she was exhausted and the longer she went without,
the worse she felt. Not just the physical fatigue, but the mental
sluggishness that could only be beaten with a bit of speed, ah
speed, just saying it made her feel a little bit of buzz. That was the
answer to her ills and she knew it, and she knew where to get it,
then again no, she couldn’t go there, he would tell Vitaly she’d
been there and it wouldn’t take him long to find her then, even here
she felt in danger. She had moved into the refuge a couple of days
ago, she had been referred by a lady at the health centre, Fiona or
something, she tried to remember, she was nice, very sympathetic
and understanding. Even if she knew next to nothing about Saffy
and her problems she pretended she did, and that was what nice
people did, she thought.
When she looked back over the last couple of days she wept.
A week ago things had seemed okay, they were far from it, but
banging out of her head on top quality opiates made things seem
good and Eva was there, alive and well and things were bearable.
Just thinking of Eva brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her
throat. They hadn’t been friends long, four months or so, but they
were close as you could get. Whenever Vitaly or Yuri threw a
wobbler, they had been there for each other, washing away the
blood and putting cooling compress on each other’s lumps and
bruises, they were like sisters and now, she was gone.
Saffron still couldn’t quite believe the year she’d had. It had
started well, a new year’s party with some of her uni mates, then a
new part time job at the fancy coffee shop near campus. It was as if
she had rubbed a fairy and gotten all the luck she needed at once.
There wasn’t a man on the scene, but even that was good, because
she fancied loads of the fit uni guys, and didn’t have to make a
46

choice about which one she wanted, she’d had a few of them and
didn’t feel the least bit slutty about it either.
Apart from back home, things were good. There, things were
completely shitty, but she wasn’t there, and out of sight, was out of
mind as far as she was concerned. She’d had to learn to be that
way because of dad’s job. He was a soldier, and that meant months
away from home and constant risk of death. Once, she had to have
some counselling, and the lady had told her that constantly
worrying about him would only make his job harder. He would be
worrying about her, worrying about him, this could lead to
mistakes, and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes in his job. So
she toughened up and let her dad know she had done so. She still
had a niggling little worry at the back of her mind but he didn’t
need to see it and she hoped it made his life a bit easier. If she
could manage to forget her dad was out there somewhere risking
his life, as it happened he was right now. Then, forgetting her bitch
of a mother and her sanctimonious bullshit was a breeze.
She remembered the day she had first met Vitaly. She was
working the tables so Sharon could have a go on the coffee
machine. She was pregnant and couldn’t be walking around the
tables all day, it was her job, but Saffy didn’t mind letting her have
a rest. He had ordered his drink, a double espresso, and sat by the
window looking out onto Tottenham Court Road. He hadn’t waited
for his coffee at the counter, which was what most people did. He
just indicated to Sharon with a nod of his head where he was going
to be, and then walked off. Rude sod, Saffy thought at first,
although to fair on him, most people took one look at Sharon and
immediately disliked her.
She had that white trashy sort of face, all bad teeth, bad hair
and bad attitude, her crappy complexion didn’t add to the allure
any, and her customer service skills left a lot to be desired. When
she thought back, he hadn’t been very alluring himself that day. He
had clearly not been to sleep. His face was an ashen grey and he
smelt of stale tobacco and marijuana smoke. He was wearing a suit
that looked like he’d gotten it from the discount shop on the corner
of Oxford Street, certainly not tailored. When she took him his
little cup of coffee, he grunted in acknowledgement and carried on
looking out the window. He appeared to be engrossed by the
entrance to one of the flats that had front doors next to the shop
47

fronts. He drank his coffee in two short gulps and looked at the
counter trying to get Sharon’s attention.
Saffy was just passing him, when he grabbed her sleeve, a bit
roughly for her liking, and spoke, “Can I have another espresso, a
double one and a muffin as well?”
He was heavily accented, eastern European of some sort.
Saffy knew a few Polish girls and a Lithuanian, but couldn’t tell
their accents apart. He sounded like them, and suffered with the
same social problem of no manners as well. She dragged her arm
away from him, giving him a filthy look in the process.
“Yeah, I’ll get that for you, but only if you keep your hands
off of me, we don’t touch people in this country you know.”
He smiled back at her and she saw something in this that made
her smile back, it was involuntary and she tried to stifle it straight
away, but there had been a connection there and he knew it too.
“Sorry, pretty girl, I am tired and need coffee, no offence
meant by me honestly, you get me, yes?”
Saffy nodded her assent and went to fetch his order. They
didn’t speak again, but he left a fiver tip on his tray for her, she’d
remember that one for sure.
How long ago had that been? She couldn’t quite remember
exactly, a year? Less? She was loathe to try and figure it out. They
had met again in the spring she remembered that much, because
the second time she had seen him, he was wearing shorts and tee
shirt.
It had been sunny for all of five minutes, the temperature had
just about hit 15 degrees, and here he was sitting on one of the
outside tables in beach dress. He had already been served when she
came on shift, and it wasn’t until he came in for a refill that they
met again. He smiled once he recognised her and she couldn’t help
but return it, flushing red at her cheeks as she did.
Saffron had a beautiful brown skin tone, light like milky
coffee, one of the benefits of being mixed race. There weren’t any
others she could find to list. At nearly six feet tall she was lithe,
athletic and extremely attractive, she had that air of confidence that
came with natural charm and beauty. She wasn’t at all vain and
there was no hint of arrogance about her, when she blushed it was
plainly obvious and Vitaly picked up on it immediately.
“You’re the beautiful lady who teaches me manner, yes?”
48

He had a glint in his eye she found attractive, and she nodded
clumsily, trying to spoon the milk onto a frothy cappuccino in the
process.
“Yeah, I wasn’t being funny, it’s just we get a lot of disrespect
here and I was probably having a bad day, sorry.”
She hadn’t commented on the fact he’d said she was beautiful,
that would have been bad form. He stepped aside to allow the
person behind him to get served, and moved towards the coffee
machine through the gap in the counter, where she was busily
trying to look unflustered by his attentions. He wasn’t a classic
good looker in her mind, he had a plain looking face, high
cheekbones that spoke of some oriental kind of origin. His skin
was a golden colour, possibly tanned, she couldn’t tell. What she
did like, was he was about her height, maybe an inch taller and
although he was dressed for a sweltering summer day that wasn’t
likely to materialise, his threads were all quality gear and she liked
a man who dressed well. He was quite fit as well from where she
was standing, nicely toned arms with nice size muscles, not too
big, just well-cut and he had a slim waist beneath broadish
shoulders. He kept his hair very short, but not too tight to the head,
not a skinhead like Tom, just enough to show its colour which was
a dark brown.
They chatted idly for a few minutes when a huge guy, bigger
than was humanly necessary, turned up and called him from the
doorway. He asked for her number and she wrote it onto one of the
loyalty cards for him. As he got to the door, he spoke to his large
friend and they both looked back at her, the big man nodding in
appreciation as they walked over the road and into the door he had
been watching the first time they had met.
He called her the next day and invited her to a club he claimed
to be a shareholder in. His thick accent made phone conversation
difficult but she managed to get the address, she didn’t for one
minute believe he owned part of a night club, but she was just
happy to be going on a date with someone who wasn’t studying
medicine or law for a change.
He met her at the door and nodded to the two huge bouncers
as he ushered her in. She was wearing a knee length dress that
clung to her, accentuating her slim but well-formed body, he was
49

in a different suit, no better than his previous one, but this one at
least didn’t stink.
She was suitably impressed on first impressions and the night
had been excellent from then onward. He did indeed seem to be
someone of importance in the bar, which was one of those trance
music clubs where people seemed to sway madly, to weird euro
beat music. It wasn’t to her taste but she enjoyed it all the same.
There were many very beautiful women walking around in very
revealing outfits, but Vitaly paid them no notice at all, he was
attentive and courteous and she gushed about him to her flatmates
the next day.
They met up regularly after this, either going to his club or a
restaurant where he knew the owner. He was from Russia, but his
parents were from Tajikistan. He had been orphaned quite young
and grew up in boys homes. He had made a living for himself
despite his hard start in life and she felt this made her like him
even more. The only strange element of the relationship was he
always took her home early, not silly early, but by London
standards, midnight or so. Also, he kissed her now and then, but
didn’t get fresh at all. The fact he was always dropping her off
didn’t help the situation, no opportunity for intimacy came up and
she was left feeling he didn’t really fancy her that way by the third
week. If only she had used her nous back then, she could have
saved herself and Eva so much heartache, but he was just so
charming and considerate and she couldn’t have known, could she?
The problems started one night at the club, Bar Ruskie. He had
told her to make herself especially gorgeous that night as he had
some special friends coming over he wanted to impress. She was
thrilled; he must have liked her if he was showing her off to
friends. Her doubts about the lack of intimacy were temporarily
put on the back burner. She went out and blew her whole weeks
wages on a dress from a boutique just off Covent Garden, way
more than she should have been spending but it was worth it for
Vitaly. Now that she thought about it, there were indications that
things were going wrong very early in the night. He had been his
usual charming self when he met her in the lobby, he looked her up
and down admiringly and she felt a shiver of pleasure under his
gaze, he liked it, it had been worth the money regardless of missing
out on this week’s rent. He took her through the bar to the VIP area
50

they always sat in. There was an ice bucket with a bottle of
champagne beside their regular table and three men were sat there
with a glass each of the bubbly stuff.
They all stood as she approached, it was a little uncomfortable
the way they leered at her, Vitaly didn’t seem to be bothered by
this and they all gently shook her hand as they were introduced.
Their names were unpronounceable Russian ones, and they seemed
to have no English between them. As the night wore on, the three
men spoke in each other’s ears and leant over to speak to Vitaly.
One of them, a grossly fat man whose chin wasn’t discernible from
his chest, stared at Saffy, licking his lips lasciviously every now
and then. His suit was definitely more expensive than the type
Vitaly wore and he rolled huge bundles of notes from his pocket
every now and then to tip the very pretty waitress who was serving
them copious amounts of champagne. If he was obvious with his
attentions, the scariest one was his exact opposite, a short skinny
little man with a shiny baldhead and ears that would have been the
butt of endless jokes in an English school playground. He had
beady eyes that were always moving, he watched every woman
walk past, eyed the waitress up incessantly and when he thought
she wasn’t looking stared at Saffron. His apparent wealth
obviously gave him the opinion he could do as he pleased, as he
tapped the waitress on her arse as she left the table, she almost
reacted but looked at Vitaly who merely gave a small nod and she
walked off, fuming. He was creepy and Saffron was struggling to
see how these men were related in anyway, to her Vitaly, apart
from the fact they were all Russian, there didn’t seem to be
anything tying them together.
Vitaly explained that the three of them were Oil magnates, on
a visit to London to help negotiate a new pipeline through one of
the former soviet republics. The third man, who she remembered
was called Olgenkov was also a fat man, not as much as his
comrade, but he was taller and carried it better. He hadn’t paid her
any attention at all since the initial introductions and he was her
favourite of the three, He was apparently one of Russia’s richest
men and a keen football fan. He had heard that a Premiership club
was up for sale and wanted Vitaly to find out how much he would
have to pay. Russians loved the English football, especially since
one of their compatriots had bought Chelsea and made them so
51

successful. She failed to see what help Vitaly could be in this, he
was a part owner of a club and a bit of an entrepreneur, but that
didn’t qualify him to negotiate deals worth tens of millions did it.
The night was feeling different to others they had spent
together. For a start, there was no attempt to take Saffy home, he
was quite happily plying her with champagne and laughing
raucously with his friends. She was getting quite drunk in the end
and wanted to switch to mineral water, but Vitaly was adamant she
have a good drink.
“This drink is best money can buy,” he said, waving his hand
to indicate the label on the large bottle he was currently pouring
into the flutes laid out before him.
It was getting late by Saffy’s reckoning and the Russians were
getting fidgety. There was something up and she couldn’t work out
what, had they had enough as well and wanted to leave? What she
knew about Russians was all about how they loved to drink, maybe
they were worried about looking like lightweights in each other
eyes or something. Vitaly came back from a trip to the bar, he was
still working after all, he had an orange drink in his hand, he gave
it to Saffy with a wink, he whispered into her ear, “ For you, make
you good and strong for tonight yes?”
She blushed and took the drink, it was just orange juice as far
as she could tell, although there was a bitter aftertaste that she
couldn’t identify, she was chuffed Vitaly had thought about her
wellbeing, orange juice would help her get over any hang over the
champagne may leave her with. Her recollection of the next part of
the evening was still hazy after all this time and she was quite glad
of this now.
To the best of her knowledge, they left the club and got into a
taxi that took them to a hotel on Park Lane, she knew this because
it was where she woke the next day. There had been the three
Russians and Vitaly, and possibly Yuri the freakishly large man
she had seen in the coffee shop, he seemed always to be there
when Vitaly was up to something. She shuddered to think of what
happened next.
Vitaly had taken great pleasure in revealing the details to her
the next day.
52

The oil magnates had taken her up to a suite Vitaly had
provided for them and proceeded to, as Vitaly put it “ Fuck you
like they life depend on it.”
He had laughed, as he spoke she had screamed. She was aware
of an ache in her groin, she was getting some bloody discharge and
didn’t want to imagine what had happened. She vainly hoped that
she had slept with Vitaly and just forgotten in her drunken state.
The truth was indescribably terrible. They had all used her, in her
pliant state she had engaged in heinous acts that she shivered to
remember. Her body had been utterly violated by these perverted
pigs, and all the while, Vitaly had watched, and horror of horrors
filmed some of it. He had laughed as she cried into her hands, she
hadn’t ever noticed before, but he had a sick-teasing laugh, he
obviously revelled in her disgust and she couldn’t bear to look at
him. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her,
she rocked gently as she cried, how could this have happened?
She wasn’t some naïve country bumpkin, she had been
brought up to be street smart. Dad and Tom had drilled it into her
the need to be aware of your surroundings, to be suspicious of
anything and everyone until you knew they were okay. She used to
make fun of their over protective speeches, but now she was here,
in real trouble and they would be furious with her, no, disgusted
more likely. She had allowed this to happen to her and they would
both be so disappointed with her, which was almost as unbearable
as thinking of what had actually happened.
As she tried to compose herself, Vitaly got on his mobile and
started to gob off in Russian. He was laughing and gesticulating as
he spoke, he turned every now and then to see what Saffy was up
to, but she was just sitting there in the foetal position. He smiled to
himself as he turned away. Just as she thought things couldn’t get
any worse, Yuri came in with a compact disc, he shook his head as
he smiled at Saffy tutting, and waving the disc at her, he laughed
and handed it to Vitaly. They were speaking Russian, but she could
tell they were both quite pleased with themselves.
Vitaly put the disc into a DVD player and sat back on the
hotels luxurious sofa. He had a remote control and once the disc
had loaded up, he pressed play. There were some scenes of the
men walking into the room, Saffy watched herself stumble in and
laugh out loud to herself as they took of their coats and poured
53

some drinks from the bar, no mini bar in these luxury suites. He
forwarded through the preliminaries and only slowed it when it
was apparent the action had started.
Saffy was sitting on the edge of a huge bed swaying to some
unheard music, the sound was down on the TV as Vitaly didn’t
want his comrades in the next room to know he had recorded the
session. The fatter of the three men walked across the cameras line
of sight and obscured Saffy from view temporarily, when he
stepped to the side she was topless, swaying as she got into the
rhythm of whatever tune was playing. Her nudity hadn’t fazed her
and as skinny man walked over and began massaging her breasts,
she smiled at him and spoke to him, and then he pushed her back
onto the bed and pulled the dress down over her hips, and threw it
onto the floor. Olgenkov then came into the scene, pushing Skinny
aside and pulling her knickers down, roughly with no thought for
her, what followed was etched into her mind forever, all three men
repeatedly raped her.
Vitaly appeared every now and then, looking knowingly into
the hidden camera. She was pushed from one position to another,
seemingly compliant with their every whim. She was put through a
degrading couple of hours at the hands of these sick rich bastards.
One by one, they walked out of the scene and she was left alone
with skinny for a short time. He had pulled out a mobile phone and
was taking shots of her laying spread eagled on the bed, her
usually neatly tied up hair was strewn about and she had passed out
in a most unlikely position. He was laughing to someone off
camera as he did so, even going as far as moving one of her legs to
get a better shot for his collection. She felt as if the whole thing
had happened again. Vitaly knew what sort of torture he was
putting her through and seemed to be enjoying it, he would say
something to Yuri, who would look at her and laugh along. The
disc stopped, and he smiled and nodded theatrically to himself.
This was exactly what he had wanted when he set the camera up,
whatever he had in mind, this was going to plan and he was in a
good mood. Saffy spoke for the first time since he told her what
had been going on.
“Why would you do this to me? How can you even imagine
such a thing, its disgusting Vitaly, I thought you liked me, we had
something special going here.”
54

She was distraught and her voice was screechy, “Why?”
“What’s the matter with you, you were loving this yes, watch
the TV, you no complain once all night, you very good girl for
them yes, very friendly.”
Yuri laughed as Saffy looked on incredulous to his words.
“That wasn’t me, it was someone else, I can’t have done that, I
wouldn’t have, never.”
Her words were hollow; she knew the truth but couldn’t
believe it.
“You want to see again? To make sure? I was here baby, it
was you and you love every minute of it, whimper like a puppy for
more, ask Yuri, you see her too, yes?”
Yuri looked at her like she was a piece of shit from his shoe
and nodded, “You want more I think, yes.”
There was a cup of something just in reach and she picked it
up and threw at Yuri. He ducked as it flew over his head, a trail of
brown liquid in its wake, some of which went into his face. His
face reddened and he stepped forward to deliver a stinging slap to
her left cheek. She yelped in surprise and pain, throwing herself
further back into the armchair. She looked to Vitaly for help,
foolishly still thinking he would be there for her.
“Enough Yuri, no more.”
He then spoke very quickly in Russian and Yuri raised his
hand again in threat and sat back down.
55

Chapter Six
Where was she? That was his first thought whenever he woke
from one of his drug induced sleeps. She had done the unthinkable,
and now he had to get her back, back in front of the other girls,
then he would punish her, beat her and get Yuri to do some of his
specialist work on her. She would be seen for what she was, a
stupid bitch who couldn’t ever expect to leave Vitaly behind, not
her, not anyone could do this, he would ensure they all knew that.
His throat was dry and his pillow stank, he had to get up off this
bed, he needed some water and a shower to get the stink of this
fetid room off of him. As he carefully lifted his head, it throbbed in
defiance, his world was all wobbly and he thought he might throw
up if he didn’t get something to drink. His hands hurt as he exerted
them against the thin mattress, the knuckles were sore and he
pushed against the pain until he was sitting on the edge of the
single bed, it was an old Army surplus bunk, cheap and hard, but
fit for these dirty whores. He didn’t usually end up sleeping in one,
so cared little for the lack of quality, until now. His back arched as
he tried to stretch out the little niggles of sleeping on such a thin
piece of crap, his head still ached and the need for some moisture
was all-consuming.
He looked at the foot of the bed. The bloody piece of beaten
human flesh hadn’t moved in the hours he had slept. She had been
beautiful, this girl, he thought, like her, that negro bitch, but not
anymore, now she was a mess, pulped up features and broken
teeth, just like she would be once he got his hands on her, no one
would ever think she was beautiful again, not even her black
bastard of a father.
What was he again, a soldier, who was still a soldier at that
age, he just didn’t want to be at home with his family is all that is.
He managed to stumble past the prostrate girl into the hall, the
kitchen was opposite and he filled a used glass with tap water, it
was cloudy and warm but he gulped it down, he gulped in air as he
drank and let out a painful burp. He looked around smiled. He was
still amused by the silly things like burping and farting aloud. He
56

drank another glass, this time a little cooler as the tap had been
running a little while but the milky colour was still there, was this
some kind of poison the government put into the tap water in this
shitty country? He shook his head, but drank it all anyway.
He wandered back to the room where his watch and stuff were
still on the small table beside the bed, there was a small religious
icon next to his stuff, the stupid bitches all had these things. How
could they believe there was a God when they had to endure hell
every day? He stepped over the body, not bothering to check if she
still lived, he couldn’t have given a shit to be honest, Yuri would
sort it regardless. He had learned not to care from a young age and
death was just a side effect of the life he led, never his death
though, he laughed to himself.
His watch back on, wallet in his pocket and the mobile phone
switched off silent, he gave the poor girl a kick as he walked by
her.
“Get up, you fucking useless whore, why make the place so
messy?” he laughed again, aloud this time, not caring if he
disturbed the other girls who bunked down in the shitty flat behind
the club.
The air was cold in the street, and he was surprised, he was
obviously spending too much money on heating that place. He’d
get Yuri to sort that, it wasn’t he didn’t have the money, he just
didn’t want to waste it on those retched bitches, better he buy a
new gadget than waste it on them.
There was very little traffic on the streets and even fewer
people. Sunday morning was always like this, it would soon start
to get busy. The workers would be coming in for the ten o’clock
start, then the tourists and shoppers, clambering over each other to
spend money on useless shit. I heart London Tee shirts and
sweaters, toy red buses and black taxis, it was all shit and had
nothing to do with the reality, the shitty smelling streets with
muggers on every corner, the blacks and Pakis with their stinking
food, the Arabs and their disgusting desires. This was London to
him, and he loved that side of it, he could profit from these things
not from red buses and black taxis. He walked back up the main
drag towards Piccadilly Circus, he wanted to check in on Yuri,
make sure he was getting things done. The search had been going
on for over a week and he was sure they weren’t getting how
57

important it was she was found. To them, it was just another one of
Vitaly’s girls, but to him she was a rebel, and like all rebels, she
needed to be struck off the face of the earth, an example for those
who would rebel next.
He wasn’t really dressed for a cold morning walk, his suit was
lightweight cotton and his shoes had slippery leather soles. There
was steam rising from his head and his breath clouded in front of
him, he was cold but wouldn’t admit it to himself, that was a
weakness and he learned long ago to deny such things, any
weakness was an opportunity for others to exploit. He remembered
the day he had been taken from his grandmother’s home by the
lady in the dark grey suit, she was a mean looking bitch and first
impressions were correct as far as he was concerned. They had
stopped outside a long building with wooded shuttered windows,
he was told to stay still as she closed the car door.
His sister Afsana was pulled out and forcibly dragged away
into a small door, not the main entrance but some kind of
tradesmen’s entrance. She was kicking and screaming as she
reached back towards him in the car. He tried to get out of the car
but it was locked. He was still trying to work out how to escape
twenty minutes later, when the woman returned alone.
“Where have you taken her, you bitch what’s going on?”
She had just shushed him, not deigning to speak to him, he
was beneath her, a Tajik immigrant child who was spoiling her
working day by existing. Their next stop was outside a huge grey
building, it was just a concrete rectangle with windows added. He
was deposited in an anteroom, while the grey lady went off with a
man in a uniform, not like a soldier or policeman. Something
medical, although it didn’t smell like any hospital Vitaly had heard
of.
The Moscow district home for orphaned boys was its grand
title. Vitaly had its initials in Cyrillic’s stamped onto everything he
wore or slept in and on. It was full to the brim with the dregs of
Russia’s great city, there were a few other Tajiks, but they didn’t
seem to want to make friends anytime soon. A larger number of
Chechens and the rest seemed to be peasant Russian stock. The
staff was all Russian except for a Chechen orderly who was in
charge of the exercise yard, he managed activities like football
matches and hockey in the winter. The bigger boys took serious
58

liberties with the younger smaller ones and Vitaly came into both
categories. Add to that his ethnicity; then he had little chance of
ever escaping their attention and in short time, he was under their
respective coshes. He didn’t go down lightly though, he fought
tooth and nail to get away from the viscous bullies and this spirit
endeared him to a number of the larger Chechen boys. They were
immune to the Russians by dint of their size and ferocity, they
liked this little outsider who had decided to change his name from
Vishtasb a traditional Tajik one, to a Russian sounding one, Vitaly,
They allowed him to sit with them for meals and play on their
team in the yard games. As time wore on Vitaly gave up asking
staff for word on his sister, she was in another establishment and
was therefore of no interest to them. He missed her. They had
never been apart, even after the death of their mother, victim of a
drug-addled customer in her brothel, they had managed to get their
grandmother, an evil drunk who hated life in the city and
bemoaned the loss of her homeland every day of her life, to take
them both in. She had been wicked in ways he never knew
possible, beating them, leaving them in summer clothes right up
until the snows came, no blankets for their bed until visitors came
and enquired where they were. Life had seemed hard then, not now
though; he relished those as halcyon days in comparison to the life
he now lived. He grew up fast in the home, the food was awful but
plentiful and he gained weight and height. By the time he was
thirteen, he had outgrown many of the older boys and even some
staff, except for the special ones who were employed on account of
their bulk, they were enforcers and needed to be big.
The Chechen kids he hung around with were smart cookies,
they had a hand in all sorts of pies, stealing cars, drug dealing and
procurement of prostitutes for anyone with the where withal to pay
them. They catered for all perversions, young girls or boys, they
even had access to a transsexual who was remarkably popular.
Their involvement in these activities gave the boys access to
money, which in turn gave them the means to bribe the staff at the
home, they lived a semi luxurious life compared to the other kids
and were held in awe by them.
It was about the time of his fourteenth birthday that Vitaly
managed to get word of where his sister was being kept. Her
original home hadn’t stayed open long and she had been placed
59

into another facility far to North of the city itself. They had pretty
much carte blanche when it came to going out of the home, so he
got together three of his older Chechen friends, Ilyas, Akhmad and
Ramzan, then stole a car and drove out to try and find her. He
hadn’t put any thought into how he would get into the building, he
assumed it would be semi secure like their own residence but he
had some money and hoped he could bribe his way in. His friends
didn’t really get what they were doing, they were smoking weed
and just enjoying the drive. If Vitaly had a plan they would go
along, he was cool and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for
each other.
After a longer than necessary journey, none of the boys had
ever been out of the city since they had been incarcerated at the
home, so directions were a problem. They eventually fell upon the
site by luck rather than judgement, they thought it was a military
base when they happened upon it but a huge sign proclaimed it be
a special facility for young ladies. There was a gatekeeper in a
sentry hut at the entrance but he just waved them through without
even looking. The red and white barrier was cantilevered so he had
to just nudge it and it rose into the air.
The boys he was with were all a little older and typical of their
race they had already started to show moustaches, not thick but
enough to make them seem old enough he guessed, this came in
handy as they approached the entrance. There was a man sitting on
a chair, not quite a doorman, but obviously in charge of preventing
unauthorised entry. He stopped the boys, looking them up and
down, they were all dressed the same, dark shirts and trousers, they
could afford some cheap out door clothes, so avoided wearing the
tracksuit that was the homes uniform. This turned out to be a boon
as the man simply asked if they had any money, a few of them did
and showed him their small wads, he nodded and gestured them
through, Vitaly was getting anxious at this stage, why would they
have to have money to get into a home. If it was for a bribe why
did he not ask for one himself, he had a heavy feeling in the pit of
his stomach.
The entrance opened out into a large foyer where there was a
small bar against one of the walls, a few mangy looking sofa and
chairs and some typical institution style double doors off of the
room in three directions. There were a few men sitting around, a
60

couple of obvious heavies near the bar and some young girls
wearing negligees just walking around.
Vitaly’s sick feeling increased, this was something he knew all
about.
His mother had been a prostitute from before he was born,
and he had been to her work place when she had to collect some
wages. He had been young and she probably didn’t think he would
notice or even remember, but he had and this was reminiscent of
that day.
The girls looked dazed, the men were mostly older guys,
poorly dressed although they were probably wearing their going
out clothes for the occasion of visiting a brothel. As they stepped
further into the room to make room for another new arrival, his
friends looked at him, huge grins on their faces, they thought he
had planned this excursion deliberately, he could have gone to any
of the local brothels, why this one? As they took in the scene, one
of the big guys wandered over.
“What are you doing? You can’t just stand there looking; you
must buy a drink, minimum price 10 roubles.”
This was steep, but they knew enough about these things to
know the girls were included in the price of a drink, not so
expensive after all.
“Is this all the girls you have? I don’t like these ones, where
are the good ones?” He tried to appear cocky.
He knew that these places always had wannabe gangsters in
and the security guys would be used to this sort of blown up punk
throwing his weight around.
“We have all sorts of girls for you, many ages and size, you
tell me what you like and we’ll go get it for you”, he turned and
indicated the bar, “first though you by a drink, for you 15 roubles,
that buys a special drink.”
As he directed them he called a small weasely looking man
who they hadn’t noticed before, he whispered in his ear and the
man nodded exaggeratedly. As they ordered vodka each, the small
man came over to Vitaly and asked what he was looking for.
“Something young, maybe twelve and Tajik maybe, Asian,
anyway.”
The man did his big nodding thing again and looked as if he
was considering something. “This may be a bit more expensive
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than usual, maybe 25 roubles, it’s a very special thing you ask for
you know?”
Vitaly scowled, “I won’t pay more than 17 roubles for any
girl, in Moscow this is the right price for these things. I won’t be
held for ransom by you people, we have important friends you
know, vor v zakone, you understand me now, friend?”
The man blanched at the use of the name of the Chechen
crime syndicate, especially from this young man, maybe even a
boy who was no doubt with Chechens, should he push his luck this
time, something in the boys eyes told him not to.
“Well as you are friends of our friends, we won’t charge the
full price, just this once.”
Vitaly was sweating big time, he wasn’t connected to any
Chechen mafia, but he knew his friends were at a low level. He
had taken a risk and for now it was paying off, he hadn’t thought
any further ahead of finding his sister and now he was knee deep in
some serious shit. He didn’t want to believe she was still here, at
the mercy of these bastards but if she was, he was sure as hell
taking her home with him. The fact he didn’t have a home to take
her too wasn’t much in his mind at that point. He pulled the other
guys together and whispered quietly “Do any of you have any
weapons? Guns knives anything?”
They leant in, Ilyas opened his jacket to reveal a handle of a
knife, Ramzan had nothing but some knuckle-dusters and Akhmad
shook his head. They were confused, but excited by the thought of
some real action. They had been small time for years and this was
a clear step up in the realms of the criminal world, if they managed
to get away with whatever Vitaly had in mind. Just as they broke
from the impromptu huddle, the doors to the far left corridor
opened, and three young girls were pushed forward into the lobby
by another thug. He was clearly the leader of the guards, he was
clean-shaven, including his head and his aggressive demeanour
and tightly fitted shirt showing off muscle upon muscles led Vitaly
to reason he would be a threat, also there were the edges of some
tattoos showing on his bull neck, that wasn’t a good sign, Vitaly
thought.
He was soon past worrying as he took in the three new
arrivals. All three were Asiatic in appearance, long black hair,
small build and tiny dirty feet. He looked hard for something that
62

would identify Afsana, he would know her again surely, but these
girls were younger than he’d asked for, they were ten at the most,
he was angry.
“Why do you insult me with these babies? Do I look like a
man that fucks babies? I should kill you now, you insolent
bastard.”
Weasel man was screwing big time, this boy frightened him,
but he was trying his best to accommodate him.
“I’m sorry my friend, I misunderstood your request, it is my
error entirely, no offence was meant I assure you. Please believe
me, we have no need to get angry, there are a couple of older girls
that maybe to your liking, Andre go fetch the older girls, you know
the two I mean.”
While this exchange had been going on, the head honcho of
the guards had reached into his jacket, most likely intending to
draw down on Vitaly if it went heavy, he was obviously Andre,
that weasel was speaking to as he looked at the man with murder in
his eyes. He clearly didn’t take kindly to being told what to do by
this runt, but he acceded, letting his hand fall back to his sides as
he walked away, looking over his shoulder to throw a nasty look
back at Vitaly and the weak little runt who was ordering him
about. For some reason the three young girls hadn’t moved, they
just stood in the middle of the foyer shaking from head to toe, they
had believed one of them was about to be violated by a local
farmer or factory worker, now they were left there, forgotten for a
moment.
They had been saved by their youth, this wasn’t always the
case and they each held onto the others hands while their fate was
decided by Nikodem, the whoremaster and manager of the brothel.
Vitaly became hyper aware of everything, his eyes searching every
corner of the room, assessing the other men lounging about on the
shitty sofas and chairs, they hadn’t moved during the exchange
with the smaller man. They would not be a problem, if things
kicked off. The two burly guards were also showing some tattoos
on their forearms, their ill-fitting suits rode up their arms a bit and
he could make out some disturbingly familiar designs, they were
connected guys, maybe even top drawer, if he did have to kill them
he would not want their comrades knowing it had been him and his
lads.
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He turned back to the three girls, he felt bad for them, this may
have been their first time in the main room, but it was just as likely
not.
“Girls, go and sit on the floor in the corner, don’t stand there
in the draught you will get cold,” he spoke in Tajik so the guards
wouldn’t understand him.
Only two of them understood but they pulled the other girl
with them, this man knew their language and seemed to be one of
them, maybe he could rescue them from this nightmare, them and
the other girls who were locked into this supposedly benevolent
facility for orphaned young girls.
The big door opened up and again there were girls being
pushed along, hard and uncaring. Andre clearly liked to bully
them, he was the type who got off on that sort of thing, but his
days of pushing whores about was about to end, especially as
Vitaly noticed the second girl as she had entered into the room.
Taller than the other girl and slightly skinnier, she had a familiar
gait that Vitaly had seen before, a way of holding herself, albeit
more subdued than he remembered but he was sure it was her.
“Girl come over here, let me look at you.”
She looked at him pretending not to understand. André was
getting ready to slap her for insolence in the presence of a
customer, he may have been a royal pain in the ass, but he was a
customer and that meant money for André and the other lads, as he
moved his arm in an arc that threatened to smack the back of her
head. Vitaly moved like lightening to block the move, the clash of
arms was audible above the hushed murmurs in the room.
“Lay a finger on that girl and we will not pay full price for her,
I don’t want damaged goods. You don’t worry I’m not so sensitive
that a little Tajik girl can bother me, I like her feistiness, maybe it
make her better at fucking yes?”
Andre had an uneasy feeling, why would he care if the girl
was struck or not, it would have been the back of her head, no
bruised face to put him off. He wanted to react to Vitaly but he
knew he would need his comrades, one of them was getting a drink
from the bar and the other was chatting to the three younger girls.
Always trying to fuck the merchandise, that was Pavel and now he
was going for the younger ones.
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No one noticed Vitaly pull the lank greasy hair away from the
face of the taller girl, it took him a nanosecond to know it was her.
Her eyes were glassy and ringed with black shadows. Her face,
with those high cheekbones was hollow and there was no sign of
recognition of him at all. Anger welled up inside him he hadn’t felt
in all his life, fury flooded into his mind and red mist literally fell
before his eyes. Before he said another word, he turned toward
Andre, lifting his forearm level with his neck, smashing into his
windpipe, temporarily disabling him and allowing Vitaly to make a
move for the concealed pistol. At the same time the other lads
made their move, Ramzan had sidled up to the man at the bar, as
he turned to see what was happening he struck him hard on the
temple with his knuckle-dusted fist. The man dropped like a stone,
he also went for the gun the man had been wearing in a shoulder
holster. Ilyas was a little away from his target and had to lunge for
him with his big hunter’s knife, the ten inch blade had a serrated
blade and wickedly sharp edge.
The man was reaching for his weapon, whilst trying to dodge
the knife, it was then Akhmad acted, he was behind the man
grabbing him around the throat. Pavel had to lift his huge hands
away from the pistol to get the smaller Chechen off his back. The
diversion was all they needed. Ilyas pushed the blade hilt deep into
the man’s stomach, twisted it and pulled it out again. His hand was
covered in the warm gushing blood, he pulled the blade back and
slashed it across the guard’s throat. Akhmad had stepped back at
this point, luckily, or he would have been slashed as well.
Andre was still choking on the floor as Vitaly pulled the pistol
from his waistband. It was in a pancake holster right up against his
hip and took some effort to get it out, the big man tried to claw it
from his hands, but Vitaly delivered a hard kick into his chest,
doubling him up in pain. With gun in hand and his friends
similarly armed, they thought they had cracked it, the lads still
didn’t get what was going down but they were grinning at each
other as they watched Pavel kick and writhe on the floor, blood
pooling around him on the parquet floor. Then a shot rang out, a
loud cracking sound that startled everyone, then another.
The weasel had teeth apparently, and he was crouched behind
the bar firing over the top without looking to see where his enemy
may be, as Akhmad hit the deck Ilyas shot back in the general
65

direction of the bar, with little effect. Andre took the chance to
grab at Vitaly’s leg hoping to pull him to the ground, The younger
man just looked at him and casually fired his pistol into his face,
the gun packed a great deal more power than Nickodem’s little
pistol and the noise was ten times louder. There was a small hole in
the front of Andre’s forehead but a sticky mess of skull and brains
on the floor beneath him.
Vitaly kicked his arms out of his way and took a knee, aware
that the other shots were going into the air. There was quiet for a
moment, the smaller girls were whimpering in fear, but Afsana and
the other girl just stood there, seemingly unaware of anything that
was happening. Nickodem had thought the sudden cessation of
shooting was his cue to get up and give them his good news, he got
to his feet and let go with the final eight rounds in his magazine.
His aim was appalling and he fired all around the room, he
managed to catch one of the farmers who had been slow to dive
behind the couches. Vitaly was calmness personified, as he took
aim and fired. He watched with grim fascination as the bullet hit
the other man’s shoulder, throwing him around towards the wall,
then he heard the bang. He fired again into his back, the wall in
front of him showered with blood as the bullet opened him up. He
hit the wall and fell sidelong down it, smearing it with blood as he
slumped behind the bar.
They looked at each other, not believing what had gone down.
They were on the verge of laughing when Vitaly noticed his sister
had fallen down. The other girl seemed unconcerned and walked
over to sit with the other girls who were all crying and hugging
each other. He was across the floor to where she lay; picking her
up as he knelt towards her, she weighed nothing. He would have to
feed her up now that he had her back. It was then he noticed her
back was wet where his hand held her. He pulled it out to see it
was covered in dark arterial blood, the blackness confused him for
a moment, he pulled her arms away from her chest to reveal a
small puddle of blood spreading from a hole in her chest. He cried
out, an agonised yell that caused the girls to scream and hug even
tighter in the corner. He pulled her hair out of her face and spoke
to her softly, he didn’t know what to do and couldn’t think about
calling the authorities, they had killed three men and this would get
back to whoever they had paid to run this place.
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“Afsana, it’s me, Vishtasb, your big brother, do you know me
my beautiful dove, can you see me?”
He was speaking in Tajik and the other lads were looking on
confused, who was this girl to be bothering him so. Sure, it was sad
but life was hard, shit happened.
“I never stopped thinking of you, I tried to find you always,
but never had any idea where you were, I came to save you, to take
you back to Moscow but now I have failed you.” He was crying at
this point, tears and snot running down onto her face as he clung to
her
“You three, shoot the last guard and those fucking animals, we
can’t allow these people to be witness’s to what we have done.”
They looked at each other confused, in his pain he had spoken
to them in his mother’s tongue.
“What are you saying Vitaly, are we going to rob this place
now, who is the girl?”
They finally prised him away from the poor girl’s lifeless
body. He hadn’t spoken and the younger girls had been taken out
by the girl who had accompanied Afsana, the remaining customers
were fussing over the man hit in the crossfire, and the guard
Ramzan had pole axed was still out cold. Vitaly allowed himself to
be pulled up onto his feet; there was blood on his hands and trouser
legs.
“She was my little sister, how could I have been alive while
she was subjected to this life, what sort of brother was I, that she
had to die because of me? I want these men dead, you understand
me, kill them all.”
The older boys were uncomfortable with being ordered about
by this cock sure Tajik, but they knew he was right. They couldn’t
risk being identified, the authorities were not a problem, they
wouldn’t even bother to look for them most likely, but these guys
had the tattoos of organised criminals and they would have
brethren who would be out to avenge their deaths.
The farmers had looked round upon hearing Vitaly’s raised
voice, but they were unsure of his motives. Surely, he didn’t want
them dead, just the staff, they would have meant to leave them
alone surely.
“What are you waiting for Ramzan, go and silence those
perverted pigs while I deal with the big guy by the bar.”
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As they spoke, two of the farmers tried to make a run for the
entrance, Ilyas fired two shots straight at them, hitting them both in
the back. They fell forward onto the hard wooden floor landing on
top of each other, as Ramzan walked toward the remaining men.
Vitaly stepped over the bodies and fired a shot into each head.
Vitaly then poured water from an ice bucket into the face of the
prostate guard. He woke in a start, unsure of what had transpired,
Vitaly waited for him to get his senses back before holding the
pistol against the side of his head. As the bullet tore through his
skull spattering Vitaly with blood and gore, he smiled a triumphant
smile that he would repeat often in his life.
They managed to find two more staff members bunking in a
room off the main dormitory. These too, they executed. Once done,
they released the girls who were under lock and key, leaving them
to their own devices, not caring how they would fare in the outside
world. That night had been the beginning of something for Vitaly,
the loss of Afsana had opened a hole in his life that he sought to
fill with violence and pain. In a few short years, he had turned
from an enterprising young boy into a feared killer, their actions
that fateful night had consequences for them all. They had
forgotten the doorman the night they had killed all the witness’s,
he had gone along with the gate keeper back to their employers
with tales of Chechen maniacs running rampant through the halls
of the facilities.
Within six months Ilyas was dead, Ramzan was imprisoned
and Akhmad had disappeared, supposedly gone to fight the
Russians in his homeland. Of the four who had carried out the
killings, only Vitaly remained, and he was too young to be
suspected. The Russians took out reprisals against Chechen
interests in the city, killing numerous men and women to prove
that it was not without consequence to mess with their businesses.
It was in the vacuum of connected men that Vitaly took up the
reigns and fought for his adopted people, he killed entire families
for his Chechen puppet masters, he had no qualms about the death
of a child, after all his Afsana was a child and that had not saved
her. So, why should the Russian pigs expect any better for their
children? If they didn’t want to lose their offspring, they shouldn’t
have had them, he knew the value of the pain these losses incurred
and it gave him great pleasure to be the architect of such pain.
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He arrived at the small offices at the back of The Pink
Elephant. They used them to run all their business interests. Yuri
was there, he had been there for hours, coordinating the various
sources that were looking for the mullato bitch. There had been no
news, Vitaly threw a strop threatening to kill every one of the lazy
bastards who took his money and didn’t deliver. His reminiscing
had put him in a bad mood and Yuri knew better than to try to
placate him.
It was in a lull in the tirades that Yuri’s phone rang, it was
Olga at the flat, she had found Valeria in her room, and she was
dead, beaten to death. He looked at his boss, he knew he had been
with her when they had left last night, he put two and two together.
“Shut her door, do not tell the girls anything, I will be there as
quickly as I can, and do not call an ambulance or the Pigs.”
Vitaly had picked up what was being spoken about, he smiled,
“Oh yes, I forget, that girl from Georgia, she isn’t very good, I may
have hurt her, you’ll sort it out okay?”
There was a smile on his face but his eyes were cold and
uncaring, he was pure evil Yuri thought as he fetched his coat.
“Ok Boss, I’ll sort it now, no problem.”
69

Chapter Seven
Her memories fought in her head. There were the fantasies she
had used to get herself through the hell of her life, then there was
the reality which for some reason didn’t ring true, maybe her
delusion had been complete and her mind had folded in on itself.
She looked around the dingy room, at the smoke stained walls,
how did she ever end up with this life, she had been such a happy
girl growing up, a loving family, yeah she missed dad sometimes
but once she had the therapy stuff she had been okay. There was a
real feeling of being loved. Tom was always there too, quietly
sitting there while everyone chatted about anything and everything,
he spoke to Saffy quite a bit but not in company, he had a
nickname dad had said, but she couldn’t remember it now,
something to do with being a mute, not the mean one about
Adonis, whatever, it didn’t matter anymore. She would never see
him again, would she, or dad, they were gone from her now. She
couldn’t be with them ever again. She was tainted, damaged
beyond reasoning. They could never look at her as their little
princess ever again. This as much as anything tore her apart.
She lay there in her bed, the rain had stopped but the drip
hadn’t gone anywhere. She would have gone and moved the bin if
she could have been bothered, but that would mean going outside
and she wasn’t ready for that. He might be out there, he would be
looking for her, of that she was certain, and Yuri, wherever Vitaly
went, Yuri would be following. Doing his masters bidding like a
guard dog. Eva believed she could get him to leave with her, that
they were in love and she could be with him in the real world,
away from the disgusting life of drugs and illicit sex, but she had
been wrong, so very wrong. His betrayal was complete, he led her
to believe he was willing to go, lied about arranging passage out of
the country, she had been excited when they last spoke, thrilled to
escape Vitaly, the beating and everything else, but Yuri had fooled
her completely.
She had walked straight into Vitaly, been dragged into his car
screaming and that was the last Saffy knew about it until her body
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was washed up on the beach in front of the London Eye. She was
just a nameless girl, tortured and beaten to death, then thrown into
the dark murky waters of the great old river. The police had said
she was anonymous, no one had reported her missing. The case
was effectively over before it began. No one would be looking to
solve this one, another tart dropped in the Thames by her pimp.
Saffy knew her name. She knew what she liked to eat for
breakfast and tea, and how much she spent on her hair every
month; everything that mattered to a friend and now she was dead.
She couldn’t help feeling partly responsible for it. She hadn’t tried
to dissuade her, she hadn’t spotted the trap she was lured into and
now she was gone forever.
Somewhere in an unmarked grave, no one to put flowers out
for her or raise a glass on her birthday. When she looked back, she
realised they should have known what would have happened.
There had been other girls who had just disappeared; no one asked
where they went because deep down, they were just glad it wasn’t
them. They had even made horrible jokes about it, not to be mean,
just to put their own minds at ease, to convince themselves they
were okay. Somehow immune to the trouble of the other girls,
Vitaly and Yuri used for their business. She tried to remember how
she’d been tricked into this life, the hotel incident should have sent
her running for the hills, or the very least a police station. She had
seen that they were cruel and devious men. Yuri had struck her and
Vitaly hadn’t acted on it, no move to defend her just a half-hearted
put down, more a suggestion than an order.
She had left the hotel in a daze, the walk from Park Lane was
like a weird trippy nightmare. Vitaly had given her some money
for a cab, fifty pound would cover her trouble he said, then he
handed her some small white tablets, they would help with the pain
and get her some sleep. She had decided that she couldn’t face a
cab driver right now, any man would be a trial to be honest. She
walked aimlessly through London’s affluent West End, past
homeless people sleeping in shop fronts and wealthy old ladies
walking pampered dogs around the fenced in greenery in the heart
of the many squares. Her flat was in Camden, not the trendy part
where the children of the rich had their town pads. She was in a
grubby terraced house with flaky paint on the tired old window
frames, piles of other people’s crap in the front garden, if that was
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what you called the eighteen inches of space between the
overgrown bush that ran the length of their front wall and the bay
window.
It was a half hours walk, tops, from where she had started out,
but it was three hours before she finally put her key into the rusty
Yale lock. The knack of twisting it three times before finally
revolving the barrel had past her by and she nearly snapped the key
in half before getting through into the familiar surroundings of her
digs.
There had been someone in the lounge watching daytime TV
but she just rushed up the stairs into the bathroom, desperate for a
shower. She had to cleanse herself of the filth she imagined coated
her entire body, as she ran the shower for a while to get the heat
going, she sat down to use the toilet, her inner thighs were sore and
it hurt when she peed. She could feel her inner parts throbbing, but
knew there wasn’t anything to be done for it, there simply wasn’t
anything strong enough to relieve the sort of pain she was
suffering.
She stepped into the steaming shower and scrubbed at herself
until it hurt too much to continue. She then went along the corridor
into her room and locked the door behind her. She didn’t want to
face anyone right then. It was as she laid her stuff onto the chair
she remembered the pills Vitaly had given her, maybe they would
help. They couldn’t do any harm after what she’d been through
nothing could make it worse, surely.
Even as she looked back, thinking of those tiny white pills
made her uncomfortable. It seemed like Alice in Wonderland all
over again, the big ‘Drink me’ convincing her it would be good
idea. We all knew how that one turned out. The first time she took
one it did what she had hoped, she shut down completely, no
thoughts of any kind, a genuine escape from her traumatic thoughts
and she liked it, a little too much as it turned out. He had only
given her three pills and she had used them all by the end of the
day.
When she woke the next morning, she was affronted by her
memories, both physical and emotional. She ached in places she
couldn’t reach to rub better. Her head was spinning with scenes
from that DVD. The way she was waving her arms along to the
music as they pawed her made her the most disgusted. She hadn’t
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even tried to protect herself, surely that would have been the very
least she should have done. Her self-esteem, which had never been
an issue, even when the other girls were developing bigger rounder
breasts and she had small pert ones, she hadn’t minded. She liked
them the way they were and the little bits of teasing made her
laugh, not now, she was shit in her eyes, little more than a whore,
she would have killed herself then, but she knew there was another
answer to her pain.
Those little white pills made it all better and she knew where
she could get some more, didn’t she? Vitaly owed her, surely he
wouldn’t hold back, not now, he couldn’t do anything worse to her
now, so there was no danger in approaching him for some more,
what was the worst that could happen right? She shook her head as
she lay there remembering how naïve she had been, there was
much worse to come girl. You should have just topped yourself
then and there. Vitaly had sounded genuinely pleased to hear from
her, some of the old charm kicked in and he made no reference to
the previous day, just a pleasant light weight chat about nothing,
was she working today, had she been okay, then the real reason for
the call. Had the pills worked? Oh, they had? Yes, they were good
weren’t they, maybe she needed a few more, he could sort that out
easily enough, he would meet her after work, take her for some
dinner and stuff. She knew it was a bad idea, her revulsion of what
he’d done to her hadn’t abated any but the chance of some relief
from her emotional trauma was worth the aggravation wasn’t it?
The meeting had been convivial enough, he reverted back to
charming Vitaly, and there was no hint of the monster he had
portrayed a couple of nights ago.
Maybe it was Yuri who was the problem, he had been the
aggressive one after all, he’d struck her hadn’t he, and although
Vitaly didn’t do much he had told him to stop hadn’t he. She fell
for his bullshit hook line and sinker. They didn’t mention anything
about the hotel incident and Saffy waited a while before
mentioning the pills. She wanted to sound uninterested in them, as
if they were just a little bit of casual relief and they didn’t mean
much at all, in her scheme of things. Vitaly knew what she was
after, he had played this game many times before with different
girls, some were already slutty, others demure and classy, like
Saffy, but once they had been broken they always went the same
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way. He gave them all the pills as a freebie, a light relief for them,
he understood these things took time to digest and the pills allowed
them to sleep and forget, but what they didn’t realise was those
pills were specially created by a very clever Russian professor for
the European market. They were a pharmaceutical marvel that
would have earned a Noble prize, if they had been for any other
purpose.
As he had planned, Saffy enquired about the pills, were there
any more, he’d said there was some more right? He played her
very well, casual and friendly, oh, the white pills, yeah, he could
get some more for her, maybe, only a few though, four at the most,
because they were expensive, but he was happy to help her out just
this once.
They parted outside the restaurant, a peck on the cheek then
she walked back through the shoppers, and he smiled to himself as
he watched her back disappear into the crowd. She walked as
quickly as she could, the small container with the all-important
pills gripped firmly in her fist inside her pocket. By the time she
had used all four of the pills she was back in the same state as
before, no worse, because she had the feeling of wanting
something desperately, knowing what it was but trying to believe
she hadn’t needed them? It was the little white pills wasn’t it? No,
it wasn’t the pills, it was the oblivion they gave her. She wanted
that so very badly and knew of only one place she could get them
from, she would have to try and convince Vitaly to get her some
more. She could pay this time, she had some money left in her
savings and in a few weeks it was payday again, the rent could
wait a week couldn’t it?
He was patiently waiting for her call, she realised now. This
had all been part of a plan. He had probably decided on his course
of action the first time he’d met her and she, like the unwitting fool
she was, had fallen straight into his trap. It had seemed a fair
enough exchange to start with, he needed girls for his other bar, the
one he hadn’t mentioned to her before, The Pink Elephant; a far
seedier establishment in the streets behind Cambridge Circus. She
would be a waitress for a few nights a week, skimpy outfit maybe,
but not too bad he said, she would get the pills and still earn good
money as well, it was win, win. She agreed to at least try it out, not
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her first mistake, not her worst or last either, but she rued it almost
straight away.
She didn’t like the job, but she needed the pills, it had been a
couple of days without them and she was desperate by the time
Vitaly turned up to pay her, and give her a couple of the special
little pills she craved. By speaking to a couple of the other girls,
she found out that they weren’t a commercially available drug, no
one else was dealing them, if you wanted them you had to be on
Vitaly’s good side. The waitressing was just a front it turned out,
the girls, at least the other girls she met were just displaying their
charms for the clients. There were lap dancers as well, always two
girls working the pole up on the main stage but they were off limits
to clients, at least in the main bar. If you paid some extra cash,
things were upgraded a great deal, and the dancers were also on the
menu, but to the bulk of punters the waitresses were the menu for
the evening.
She hadn’t been asked to turn tricks for the first couple of
nights she worked there, a few customers had tried to grope her but
the bouncers shooed them away politely, they did however pass on
their interest to Vitaly who formulated his next step. The pills were
getting hard to get hold of, she would need to pay more for them,
more than she could earn with a few hours waitressing, she would
need to find some more money and quick before the price went up
again. She was flummoxed, she was already feeling degraded by
her job, she was working more than studying as it was, and still
had no money for rent and food, that fucking dress had been a
complete waste of funds, she knew that now, but it was done and
she needed to find another revenue stream very fast.
Vitaly of course, had an idea for her. She could do something
special for him. It was like the other girls but she wouldn’t have to
have sex with anyone she didn’t want to. She baulked straight
away, no way was she going down that road, she knew girls who
had fallen foul to this crap, but then she reflected on her position.
She was desperate for money, not just for the Pills, although they
were vitally important right now, but also rent and food.
The comedown from the pills was awful and she hadn’t been
able to get to her job at the coffee shop recently, so there was less
money and more outlay than before. She was stuck in a hole and
had no idea of where to turn. Vitaly hadn’t pushed the idea, just
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thrown it out as a suggestion, a helpful hint on making some more
dough but she couldn’t help thinking he had planned it. Now, she
knew she was right, but back then, needs overrode common sense
and she agreed to at least talk about it. She would be expected to
be filmed naked in a studio setting, while men sent her messages
via the internet suggesting poses and the like, it was harmless stuff
and she would be paid a percentage of the fee these men paid
which could be very good money, especially with her unique
looks. There was no mention of any sex at this point and although
she was hating the idea, she knew it was easier than trying to
increase her earnings elsewhere, she might even have enough to
dedicate some more time to course work, with a heavy heart she
agreed and her descent into hell started.
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Chapter Eight
The whole time he’d been travelling home, he had wondered
about what he would actually do once he got there, wherever there
was. He had no family to go to, except Saffy, and she was
incommunicado at the moment. Thinking about Saffy brought
Jules back to him. All this furore about his health had kind of
overshadowed the whole Jules dying, he wasn’t fit enough to
attend the funeral. The lads had sent him a few details of the event,
who came, the weather, that sort of thing. Saffron hadn’t been
there, she wasn’t even aware of what had happened to the best of
anyone’s knowledge. Ellen had played the tearful wife, received all
the condolences from the Top Brass, it made him sick to think of
it, in many ways he was glad to have missed it, he would have
probably had to say something and it would have put a black mark
on the day. He wouldn’t have wanted to do that to his mate, he had
forgiven her, so who was he to interject on his behalf. This also
brought back to him his promise to Jules, both the conversation
they had the night before the op, and at his bedside, the one way
conversation, he’d made a solemn promise, hadn’t he? Just
because he hadn’t heard him, didn’t make it any less important, but
he hadn’t known, he himself was dying too. Jules would have
forgiven him his failure if he knew, he was a great guy, and he
would’ve understood that he couldn’t do it anymore, not in his
condition.
He had to report to Selly Oak to see a specialist oncologist on
the Wednesday, but that gave him two days to fill and he wasn’t
feeling too great. He didn’t fancy going back to Hereford just for a
day or two, it was a long journey and he struggled with being
cooped up these days. The operation hadn’t gone well, the tumour
was firmly embedded into his lungs and surrounding area, the
biopsy was academic for Dr Kapuur, he knew malignancy when he
saw it.
The prognosis wasn’t good and Dr Grey had seemed close to
tears as she explained the situation to a stunned Tom. He had never
considered the chance it would be cancer, he was sure it was all
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just a mistake and he would be back out on ops any day soon. They
didn’t say as much but they never used words like death did they,
inoperable tumour didn’t have any other end result did it, if they
couldn’t get rid of it, then it wasn’t going to volunteer to leave, it
was a simple bit of deduction to work out, he was going to die. He
just wondered at how long he’d have and whether he’d be buried
with the rest of his regiment or in one of the nearby plots, favoured
by families of ex members.
The Army had arranged for repatriation as soon as he was fit
to fly, he had a raft of pills to help him function, and relieve the
pain he was expected to start to feel very soon. They made him
light headed at first, but he was now used to them and apart from
paleness, he shouldn’t have had after weeks in the Afghan sun, he
felt and looked fine.
He had enjoyed the flight back, bantering with the aircrew that
handled the flight out of Kandahar. They were usually good lads
and had a lot of time for regiment guys. He didn’t let on what was
wrong and allowed them to wind him up for going home early. He
was a conscientious objector or had got one of the female soldiers
knocked up. He laughed along and wished they had been true. It
was cold and grey at Northolt when he disembarked the plane, a
wave to the guys and check through the formalities of passports
and stuff and he was free. For the first time in thirteen years he
didn’t have to answer to someone, he had an appointment which he
was expected to keep, but even the Army knew he was pretty much
unpunishable in his present state, so if he didn’t show up what the
fuck would they do?
The M40 ran along the bottom edge of the runway at Northolt
so getting a coach to Birmingham was no great problem. He could
have waited around for the next plane which had some amputees
also bound for Selly Oak, but he couldn’t face these poor bastards,
knowing he looked as fit as a fiddle to them, he’d look a complete
mug getting on the disabled express to Birmingham.
The coach journey was a proper welcome home to Blighty.
There were a few commuters who had done this journey every day
for years, they had earphones attached to IPods listening to
anything from drum and bass for the younger office dolly’s, to
Beethoven and Bach for the old fogies from accounts. As well as
the quite experienced travellers, there were white trash families
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taking advantage of the latest deal on cheap coach travel to spread
their unpleasant presence around the country. There were a few
hoodie wearing black kids who tried to be as intimidating as
possible, but were failing due to their ridiculous baseball caps and
terrible attempts at bling. The noise from the inbred looking kids
was intolerable and Tom wished he too had an IPod. Saffy would
crack up seeing him plugged into one of the little white credit card
sized machines with a bit of Bruce Springsteen rocking in his ears.
Nah, it wasn’t him really, he would just have to put up with
this screeching and yelling until he fell asleep, which he was doing
a lot recently. He coughed, a hard racking convulsion which was
another new feature of his life, he hadn’t realised he had been
coughing quite a bit before his visit to the medical centre. Jules had
complained once or twice about him possibly giving them away by
coughing, but he hadn’t thought about it, even before then he
remembered having a bit of a tickle, but again he thought nothing
of it, until now. Jules had also complained he was making noises in
his sleep. He said it was like a weird snoring, more of a wheeze but
he just told him to fuck off and stop whining. The problem with
this time on his own, was he had time to reminisce about things he
should have noticed, dissect the possible outcomes of knowing
sooner, would he have been able to get it cured? He would never
know and knew that even considering it was only adding fuel to
the self-pity fire he was determined to do without.
A load of the scumbags got off in Coventry along with the
boys from the hood, he pitied the folks of that city. Hitler hadn’t
exerted as much destruction on them as these low lives could
manage in a few days. He had managed a nap and was surprised to
find he was only half an hour from Birmingham. He got out his
little book on all things Birmingham and looked again at the choice
of hotels he could reasonably afford for the next few nights. He
didn’t want to stay too far out of town as that would be leaving him
reliant on cabs, etc., and his time in Northern Ireland had left him
wary of any private hire arrangement. There were a couple of the
big chain hotels near to the Bullring, and he could put up with their
generically sterile hospitality for a few nights. Hell, he’d slept in
bogs and swamps little more than inches above the ground, a
pillow and duvet alone would have been beyond luxurious to him
at this point.
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He tried to avoid thinking about his promise, it weighed
heavily on him, and in a way gave him something to think about
other than his cancer, but it didn’t really make him feel any better.
As he walked the small distance to the Top Lodge Hotel, he had
rung ahead to book, he wondered if Saffy was okay? It broke his
heart she hadn’t been informed of her father’s noble death, that’s
what it was, wasn’t it? A noble death fighting an enemy of
unknown strength on their home turf, he had to think it wasn’t a
waste, to believe there had been a higher purpose.
Where could she be? He knew London a lot better than she did
and knew the pitfalls of hanging in the wrong crowds. The
possibilities available to find trouble, even when you didn’t go
looking for it were endless. She was a smart kid though, super
intelligent, she had aced her A levels and waltzed into uni, her first
choice of School. She wouldn’t fall into any of the traps that were
set for girls like her in the capital, and he and Jules had grilled her
on everything she needed to be aware of, and given her some
lessons in self-defence. She was all set, he didn’t have anything to
worry about, not with Saffy. He was trying to convince himself he
believed it could be true. He was fighting with himself over his
promise, he was torn by the desire to fulfil his best friend’s last
wish, but he was dying for Christ sakes. He couldn’t even begin to
start to heal this rift could he? He hated Ellen and couldn’t even
find Saffy, how was he supposed to get into this problem while
dealing with his own failing health. The hotel room was fine, not
better, not worse, just fine and for less than fifty quid a night he
couldn’t expect any more, and needed even less. He didn’t bother
with the large screen TV, he could care less about the news,
everything about Afghanistan was heavily spun before it was
released and he hated to hear about the deaths of the young men
and women. They were in a hell of a situation and couldn’t really
do anything to prevent their own deaths, the IED problem was
unsolvable at the moment and it depressed him to see it on screen.
The bed was huge and he tried to have a little lie down, just a
short nap but he was buzzing with thoughts of what to do next,
there was the possibility of treatment, it would slow down the
cancer and prolong his life by as much as a year, but it would be
gruelling stuff. He would be unable to do very much whilst in
treatment, the Army would be looking after him financially, so he
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didn’t have to worry too much. He had the house back in Hereford,
and his other property and investments left to him by his family, he
wouldn’t need any more than he had, but that was the least of his
worries. There was the Saffy problem, while he was trying to
convince himself things would eventually sort themselves out, she
was still missing. They wouldn’t be getting any better while she
was out of touch and he would eventually have to speak to Ellen, if
he was to find anything out at all. Last known address and the
likes. Jules hadn’t meant for him to have to deal with Ellen, he
would have been the intermediary allowing him to ask questions
and get any details that may have helped him, but he went got
himself shot didn’t he, useless bastard.
After half an hour of lying down, his breathing became
laboured and he opened up his little medicine bag and withdrew an
inhaler, which he took two hard puffs from. The wheezing
subsided and he got up and went into the shower room, he wasn’t
tired although that could change at any time. He ran the shower
and went back for his wash bag. The room was full of steam when
he came back in and it obscured the mirror, he was glad, no one
else might be able to see the change in him yet, but he was
uncomfortably aware of it, his pallor was evident and the
cheekbones were noticeable. He had never been fat, but had a
chubby well-rounded face, did have anyway.
After a long shower, he sat on the bed covered in the white
hotel towels, enjoying the coolness of the room. He had spent
weeks showering only to come out and sweat for hours, this time
he felt like he would be clean for a while at least. He was never
hungry these days, but he did have a need to sit down and try to
eat, to hold onto the habitual act of meal times, he would eat a little
each sitting even though he invariably vomited afterwards. He had
seen a familiar fast food chicken restaurant over the road on his
way into the building and he loved the smell as much as the food,
this would be a good place to spend a couple of hours
anonymously sitting, he had done so many times on operations,
following suspects around cities.
He ordered himself a small meal, it had a side order and he
went for the corn on the cob, may as well be colourful on its way
back up he thought cheerily, it was amazing what you could accept
as normal after a short time. The chicken smelled lovely, he
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actually felt a twinge of hunger as he began to salivate, maybe this
was the better option, he thought, the gassy drink would play
havoc with his innards, but he was always thirsty, so he gulped in
huge mouthfuls of diet cola. Why diet he couldn’t answer, weight
gain wasn’t a worry at this point but he always had drunk it, so he
saw no need to change a habit of a lifetime. You couldn’t let a
small thing like dying change your way of life after all.
The restaurant was quite busy although very few of the diners
were sitting in, this was primarily a take away and the mix of
customers was like a small Petri dish of Birmingham. There were
your office workers of all races on their ways home wanting a
quick fix, fat families with screaming toddlers who would have
fitted right in on the coach trip, a mixed group of youths, some
black, some white and everything in between. They were loud and
overtly brash, trying to get the attention of everyone else in the
queue. There was an Asian family quietly waiting their turn,
obviously wishing to avoid the attention of the rather intimidating
youths. They weren’t out for any bother, Tom had known kids like
this, they were just having a bite to eat and larking about, yeah,
they were loud but that was youthful exuberance not aggression. If
they had been quiet, he would have been more worried. He had
seen the brooding angry kids before, they wanted to hurt someone,
for no better reason than they had been hurt themselves somehow
and wanted to get back at the world by dishing out a bit of pain.
There was a pair of tourists from the east, confused by the menu
but trying not to look too out of place, they had probably been
advised, quite rightly, to not draw attention to the fact they were
outsiders, it was the same all over the world, if you gave the
impression you were fitting in, then folks tended to ignore you.
The chicken was a little greasy and the southern fried coating
came off in one piece as he bit into it. It was too hot really, but he
had started, so he had to finish, as they once said on a TV show
somewhere. He had eaten the easily digestible fries first, the salt
sachet had been just enough for him. He watched agog as a fat
sweaty man had poured three of them onto his fries, here he was fit
as a fiddle, he had trained basically every available opportunity for
the last eleven or twelve years and he was dying, this fat fucker
was an advert for what not to do to survive, and he was sitting
there happily ingesting a week’s worth of salt. He’d probably get
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mild indigestion at the very worst, thought Tom, bloody typical.
He managed to get the drumstick eaten and washed down with a
few swigs of the cola, the ice had started to melt which made it
taste funny but it did what he needed it to.
He had eaten a lot quicker than he imagined he would. He had
wanted an excuse to sit where he was for a while, he liked to watch
people going about their usual business, it had been part of his job.
He always amused himself with how unaware they were of the
threats around them, they may have been in the company of a
terrorist or a serial killer, as long as he paid for his chicken like the
rest of them, they wouldn’t be interested in knowing. He used to sit
there, in whatever grimy shithole he was tasked with watching,
armed and alert, able to kill as many as fifteen to eighteen people,
dependant on which gun he was carrying, he felt like a wolf among
lambs. Yeah, he had the wool and stuff to hide himself but he was
essentially a professional killer. Was, that word haunted him, he
was no longer an SAS trooper, yes, he was still technically part of
the regiment, they hadn’t abandoned him to his fate. He had
received plenty of good wishes from the guys and stuff but he
wouldn’t ever be able to experience the buzz that came with that
life, he was now a civvy by any other measure and a dying one to
boot.
He went back up to the counter and bought an extra-large diet
cola this time, it was a huge bucket like cup, almost half of which
was ice. This would give him a good reason for sitting there, not
that he imagined the staff, mostly young Indian looking guys, were
going to turf him out. The restaurant wasn’t busy on the eat in side,
and they probably could have cared less what he was up to
anyway, as long as they didn’t have to interact with him they
would be happy enough. There was a lull in activity and he was
left alone with his thoughts, something he actively sought not to
do. He had only come out at all to get away from them, by going
into a busy establishment he thought he would be preoccupied by
the hum drum existences of those people he had striven so hard to
protect all these years, but there they were.
He wanted to see Saffy, not even for her sake, to tell her about
Jules, but because he truly felt she was a part of his life. As good
as flesh and blood to him, and he knew she felt the same way, he
wasn’t her uncle, not even remotely related but he had always been
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her Uncle Tom. The connotation of the name was lost on her but
not Jules, he laughed every time it was brought up. Right then he
knew he would have to find her, to get in touch and let her know
what had gone down both to her dad but also him. She was the
only person he thought would give a shit really, there were plenty
of people who were offering sympathetic platitudes but this was
expected of them. Saffy would genuinely be gutted, this thought
upset him, was he being selfish here? Why tell her if he knew it
would upset her so much, was it attention seeking? Maybe, but he
still felt compelled to see her, one last time, and if he could help
heal the rift, then that was all well and good, he would fulfil his
promise and salve himself in the process.
It felt good to have made a decision, to have jumped in and
gone for it. He had no plan in mind, didn’t have a clue where to
start his search, should he see Ellen? He didn’t want to but it may
give him a start. He decided he would go and see her at the
weekend after his hospital appointment was over with. He didn’t
envisage having to stay in Birmingham any longer than the
appointed day, and he wasn’t in a rush to go back to Hereford.
There would be constant reminders of what he was no longer a part
of. With this all tied up in his head, he reverted back to people
watching, a couple of policemen came in and had a suspicious look
around as they waited for their party bucket to be filled.
It was second nature to them, they would be gutted if they
actually saw something for them to deal with. They were obviously
on their way back to the nick with supplies. Tom had worked with
the police quite a lot over the years; both here and abroad and they
were the same everywhere, gone was the day of the noble soul
wanting to make a difference. It was a profession now and work
was work, they did as little or as much as necessary, and for the
rewards offered who could blame them.
The night ran away from him sitting in the cheap plastic
chairs, not unlike the medical centre in Kandahar. It was almost
eleven when he checked his watch. He was feeling a bit nauseous,
but that was fine, he had held this meal down quite well, maybe the
answer was junk food. He could live with that for his remaining
time. He threw his empty cup and box of chicken bones into the
overflowing bin beside the door, nodded a farewell to the young
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guy behind the counter, who was amazed someone had voluntarily
used the bin, and crossed over into the garishly lit reception.
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Chapter Nine
The street was poorly lit and although not quite dark, it was
still heavily shadowed and visibility wasn’t what it should have
been. There pervaded a feeling of foreboding, the few people
walking the street were hunched up, heads down, unwilling to
make eye contact with their fellow streetwalkers. To Tom, this was
unsettling; he had known these streets as a regular visitor to Jules’s
home. The area had fallen on hard times; the old feeling of
community contentment was clearly no longer there, neither
physically or mentally. Why it had changed was no surprise. The
industrial estate was now a retail park and all the local factories
had closed down. This much he could see with his own eyes, but
the cause of unease that was evident in the demeanour of the locals
was less obvious, and Tom was concerned that getting Saffron to
come back here was unlikely to be a good move for her at all.
The front gardens of some of the houses had dilapidated cars
or engine parts on the scraggy patch of ground which passed for a
front lawn. On others, mattresses and general household waste
were strewn about, in fact of the twenty or so front gardens on the
side of the road Ellen lived on, only three had anything like tidy
lawns, and one of those was block paved, this one was Ellen's as it
turned out. There was an old-fashioned style street lamp on the
driveway, which shed a poor orange glow onto the red block
paving, offering nothing but a fake sense of security, but in reality,
doing nothing whatsoever. The door had an ornate iron gate in
front of it with a heavy looking lock.
There was an intercom type doorbell on the whitewashed wall
beside the door, and it appeared to have a small camera lens at the
top. Tom took a look around as he walked onto the path, a habitual
action that was borne of constantly moving in and out of safe
houses over the years in the province and the Balkans. The paving
had a separate pathway of grey blocks leading to the door, which
Tom followed as if it were a bridge. As he pressed the small silver
button on the intercom, he turned and had a quick glance around,
to see if he was being watched or whether his presence was raising
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any attention in the small groups of walkers out on the street. No
one appeared the least bit interested, but Tom knew that wasn’t
necessarily the case.
“Hello, who’s there?”
A small light came on above the little black spot, which was
the lens. Tom turned towards the lens and leaned in, “It’s Tom
Ellen, Tom Goulding.”
He heard a crackling sound then a click as the gate latch was
released, probably a magnetic set up, the light on the intercom
slowly faded as the sound of locks being undone on the heavy
looking black door alerted him to movement inside. There must
have been at least three deadlocks on the door, although only one
Yale type keyhole on the facade itself, clearly a worried lady, Tom
thought.
As the door opened tentatively, he still couldn’t see Ellen. The
passage was in darkness and the lamppost offered nowhere near
enough illumination to see inside.
“Tom, is that really you? Why are you here? I know about
Jules.”
He leaned toward the small crack, trying to keep his voice as
low as possible. Another piece of tradecraft he hadn’t been able to
avoid as habit.
“Yeah it’s me Ellen, I’ve come to talk about Saffron not Jules,
but I don’t want to do it on the front doorstep.”
He tried to sound calm, but he was impatient to get inside. He
felt exposed with his back to the street and wanted to get inside
straight away. He heard her shuffling her feet and the door
widened slightly to allow him into the passage.
The small hallway was still dark and although he could see
Ellen in front of him, he couldn’t really identify her as the woman
he knew. No features were visible and it could easily have been
anyone standing there, he reached out to the wall where he knew
the light switch was and flicked it, a loud click, and then nothing.
He looked up and saw the empty ceiling fitment, no bulb.
“I took it out so I don’t accidently let anyone see in, you know
when I do my milk bottles or the bins, can’t let the nosy bastards
round here know anything about what you’ve got.”
She turned as she spoke and opened the door behind herself
that led into the kitchen diner, there was a soft glow from within,
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again too little to assist in making out any details within the
hallway.
“They already wonder what I’ve got that needs an iron gate to
protect it.”
As he stepped in behind her she indicated he should close the
door, a nervous almost twitchy gesture that implied an obsessive
need for the door being shut.
She looked terrible, that was the first thing Tom thought and
tried to hide it, her usually manicured fingernails were short and
bitten, she had no makeup on whatsoever. The first time Tom had
ever seen her without, and her eyes were red and heavy lidded, she
looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks.
“Well Tom? What’s brought you to my door, you’re the last
person I thought I’d see,” she fidgeted as she spoke. “I was
surprised when the company commander came by, apparently I’m
still on Jules’s next of kin documents, can you believe that? He
never changed them after all I did.”
She was nervously trying to get a cigarette out of a crumpled
packet on the work surface of the messy kitchen units; the place
was a mess.
“That why you came? He tell you to get all his stuff back from
me? I knew it wasn’t right, I never even unpacked the boxes in
case you or Saffy came for them.”
Tom was shocked, firstly by Ellen's appearance, then by the
state of the kitchen. She was a meticulous woman all the while he
had known her, both before and after her wedding to Jules. She had
nagged Jules incessantly about him being a slob, which was
something of a joke around the lads as he was known as being
fastidious by the lads, but Ellen's standards were set even higher
than that of the British Army. He was feeling a little breathless so
he took a seat on a high stool beside the breakfast bar.
“I’m not here for Jules’s stuff, he genuinely wanted you to be
his beneficiary, the papers were only signed six weeks before we
flew out.”
He hoped she wasn’t paying attention to the fact he was
breathing heavily and leaning on the stool.
“It wasn’t an oversight, an old instruction, we did our death
instructions regularly and he never took you off of his, good old
Jules, always a bigger man than the rest of us.”
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He wasn’t sure if this was actually correct, they did do their
death instructions so it was likely a fact, but he saw no harm in
making an assumption.
“Was always, I think you mean.”
There was a bite to her voice, a resentment that was barely
concealed, the magnanimity was a last kick in her ribs from a man
who was always too kind to her regardless of her behaviour.
“Yeah, okay, was, if you want to be like that Ellen, but I think
you could be a bit less of a shit about it,” he was enraged by her
attitude.
“He may have been old news to you, but he was a brother to
me, so cut the fucking sniping okay?”
She glowered at him for a moment, a glimpse of the old Ellen
he knew well, then she receded into herself and nodded gently.
“You’re right Tom, I’m sorry. He was a good husband to me
as well, I may be a bitch but I knew he was too good for me long
before he ever did.”
“He never did see that Ellen, that’s why you were still in his
thoughts right up till the end. His last thoughts were about you and
Saffron, that’s why I came.”
At the mention of Saffron she physically blanched, setting
Tom’s instincts on alert, if she was being interrogated that would
have been a big signal from the mark that they were on the right
track of a guilty secret, odd, he thought for a mother to react so.
He bit on this and went for her straight away.
“What’s wrong Ellen? Why does me mentioning your own
daughter set you on edge, and don’t bullshit me, I’m an expert at
getting information remember, you just about screamed, body
language wise. What’s been happening?”
She fidgeted nervously, her eyes looking anywhere but at
Tom, she was trying to think of a believable lie, he knew it and she
would be trying hard to get him to believe it, but why? “Don’t sit
there fucking about, Ellen. You aren’t going to be able to fob me
off with some bollocks you’ve just thought of. I want to know
what’s the big fucking deal about me mentioning Saffy all of a
sudden?”
Her eyes darted to the window as she leant forward and spoke
almost in a whisper.
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“I can’t just tell you Tom, you don’t understand, they have
been spying on me, trying to get me to let on where she is, they are
sneaky. I don’t know about bugging or any of that stuff, but I read
online that it was pretty easy to do, you can buy the gear on Ebay
and use it within hours.”
She was looking over his shoulder as if she expected someone
to come through the door. Tom was now on edge, “Who the fuck
would be spying on you Ellen, you’re not exactly in the fucking
loop anymore. No one and I mean no one gives a fuck about what
you do or don’t do, and why would anyone want to know about
Saffy. I know she’s off the radar at the moment, but she’s not
exactly the fucking fugitive yet.”
He was almost shouting in his annoyance, this stupid woman
was wasting his time with a Paranoid fantasy she had concocted to
fill her pathetic life with.
“You don’t get it Tom, they do want Saffy, she is valuable to
them, they told me she had been bad and they needed to get her
back for her own safety, they even knew stuff about her university
courses and things like that, they know everything.”
He was well and truly pissed off by this stage and was on the
verge of screaming at her to wake up and make sense.
“I can show you the things they told me about, she’s been a
real bad girl Tom, she’s not the innocent wide eyed girl you and
Jules thought she was you know?”
As she spoke, she turned her chair to face the small table with
the PC on it that was behind her, the screen saver was an old photo
of Ellen in a bikini. Tom had been there when it was taken and it
didn’t bring back happy memories, self-centred bitch even had her
own photo as her desktop, vain arsehole. She pulled the chair up
close so her knees were under the table, and then began tapping out
a few instructions on the keyboard. Internet explorer came up and
she highlighted the address bar, she was inputting a web address
with some strange symbols for a website. The screen transfixed her
and he was getting impatient, he coughed and noticed small flecks
of blood in the sputum on his palm, he casually ran his hand down
his trouser leg, he wasn’t in the mood to explain anything to
anyone and especially not Ellen.
“There see? Tom it’s disgusting but you have to look, I’ve
seen it and I was horrified.” On the screen was what appeared to be
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a porn site, the words were not in English, it could have been
Russian or possibly something Arabic, he hadn’t learned the
alphabets very well and Cyrillic looked pretty similar to Arabic to
him. He manoeuvred around to stand alongside her and took a
close look at the screen.
“What’s with the fucking porn Ellen, you can’t expect me to
look at this shit, surely?” She became agitated, he was reminded of
junkies he had dealt with, the furtive eyes and jerky motions, she
pointed at a spot on the screen with a picture above it.
“Look who that is Tom, really look, it took me a while to see
it but it’s her, it’s my Saffy.”
He stopped watching her and concentrated on the small image,
yes sure it was a mixed race girl, and her hair was similar to how
Saffy had it sometimes, but Christ, he knew at least half a dozen
girls who reminded him of her. That was one of the horrible things
about not seeing her, the constant reminders every time he saw
someone like her.
“That could be any girl with similar skin colour, the hairs
always going to be afro for them ain't it, its tiny how do you expect
to make a positive ID from that?”
He was incredulous, “you’ve been conned Ellen, you must
know she wouldn’t be involved in something like this, this sick
perverted shit.”
He was furious, he could feel his breathing starting to quicken
and he was becoming light headed, the exertion of his anger was
sapping him of strength.
Ellen looked at the screen again, then back to Tom.
“Listen to me, there’s more Tom, but I don’t want to see it, I
can’t believe it either, but I don’t want to look again. You click on
the writing and call me when you’ve seen enough to believe me,
it’s horrible Tom, but you need to see it.”
She got up and walked to the back of the kitchen, her face
away from the screen. She managed to get another cigarette out
and lit it with difficulty, her hands were shaking so much.
Tom looked from the screen to her and back again, she was
clearly serious in her beliefs, but he didn’t need to look to know
she was wrong, did he? He pulled the chair out a little further. He
was too tall for his legs to fit underneath. He twisted to the side to
reach easier and clicked the mouse icon onto the weird writing.
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The page started to load quickly and he had a sinking feeling as the
larger picture began to build up from the top down, it worked like a
fancy knitting machine, adding details as it carried on down the
pane. The picture was displaying the hair first, yes, he knew the
hair was similar so what, the face started to appear and he started
to doubt his resolve, what was the point of looking when he knew
she wasn’t going to be there on the screen, never. He turned back
to see Ellen still facing away, her shame was evident, he would
look once the thing had loaded and be sure in one go, not watch as
it built up. He felt grubby about the whole thing anyway without
the added pressure of having a woman in the room, one who he
despised more than anyone. He judged he had given it enough time
and turned towards the screen again, sure of what he would see.
It was as if someone had smashed him in his guts with an iron
bar, the air belched out of him explosively, his head swam and he
fought for air, all of a sudden he could feel the cancer throbbing
within, the weakness washed over him, he wanted to cry out, to
scream in anger and rage. This wasn’t happening, this was some
fucked up nightmare, he couldn’t even focus, that was what it was,
he wasn’t seeing right.
He looked back at the screen expecting to see something else,
not what he had thought, he’d been tricked by Ellen into believing
that what he saw was somehow familiar, there in the centre of the
page was what appeared to be Saffron. She was nude, her buttocks
held high towards the camera, her intimate parts exposed, her
breast just visible as she looked over her shoulder, it was a pose
he’d seen hundreds of times in various jazz mags and web pages.
There was plenty of porn around in the military, he wasn’t a
big fan but he knew stuff, and this was porn 101, there was a
collection of smaller images below, he couldn’t read the words but
he guessed click here for more would be just about right. It wasn’t
Saffy, he told himself over and over. Yes, it was uncanny the
likeness but she never had been into makeup, so he didn’t know
what she would have looked like made up like a tart. He couldn’t
look any further, he clicked the cross on the top right corner and
the image disappeared, just like that in a blink of the eye, and it
was gone, but not forgotten. It was etched into his mind, and he felt
sick that he could have such an image in his head, whether it was
Saffy or not, and he was still sure it wasn’t, then he should be able
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to censor his own mind surely? He had the power to do this simple
thing.
“Do you believe me now? Now, you’ve seen what she’s gotten
up to, do you get why they want her back?”
He heard her as a crowing bully, the told you so was
insinuated if not professed.
“Fuck off Ellen, that can’t be her, she’s not like that, she
wouldn’t even know where to start, for Christ’s sake you can’t
believe this, this crap. I don’t need to look at a picture of a girl who
yeah, looks like our Saffy, to know it’s not her.”
He wanted to slap her, to make her wake up and realise this
was a trick, but why would someone want to do this? What was in
it for them, and how had they known enough to link this girl to
Saffy, something stunk here and he wasn’t going to just sit here
and accept this shit, he wanted answers, right now.
He took a breath, which hurt, and resolved to push on.
“Ellen, who the fuck have you been talking to? Who are these
THEY, you keep speaking of? I want names, details, you can’t just
get a phone call and hey presto there’s a girl who looks like your
daughter on the fucking internet, with her cunt hanging out for the
world to see.”
She flinched at his use of the word.
“You don’t just hear this sort of thing and go for it, there had
to be more, there must be and you better fucking start talking now
you piece of shit, because I’m gonna find whoever set this up and
I’m going to fucking kill them, “ he was getting breathless as he
raged. “Christ’s sake, I could fucking kill you myself right now, I
bet you haven’t told the police or anyone at the Lines have you.
You just sat here and cried about being spied on, you disgust me as
much as that filth.”
He had stood and moved across the room toward her, he was
twice her size and she cowered under his onslaught. She couldn’t
have known the cost this was taking on him, he was struggling to
stay upright and his lungs were burning, it was only the adrenaline
of his anger that kept him from falling down where he stood.
“They said they’d kill her if I called anyone, I wanted to, God
help me, don’t you think I wanted to, but she isn’t safe and I
couldn’t risk them hurting her, even after she’d done this horrible
thing, she is still my, our Saffy.”
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Tom had stopped and leant back against another stool for
support.
“Why do you believe them, what do you see I can’t, yes it’s a
good likeness but I don’t see anything conclusive, nothing that
would have me even for a second, believing this crazy shit.”
She was weeping and dabbed at her eyes as she looked Tom in
the face, a steeliness that wasn’t there before.
“You saw one picture Tom, you didn’t look at the others and
there are lots of others, I know my girl, I powdered her and washed
her every day for years.”
She was weeping by now.
“I bathed her and clothed her, she has marks on her that only I
would know about, things unique to her, they’re there Tom, I’ve
seen them. I’d know them without looking, no one else could know
that sort of thing Tom, they couldn’t have faked it, and it’s her. I
don’t like it any more than you, but I know it’s her.”
She met his gaze and held it for a moment, was she relishing
the point proven, he thought there was something there but it was
gone as quickly as it had come.
“Are you trying to tell me that you are 100 percent certain,
beyond all shadow of any fucking doubt that that’s Saffron
DeSavery, your own daughter displaying herself to the world on
that web site, you’re totally sure Ellen?”
She sobbed as she nodded, a gentle rock of the head barely
perceptible but there nonetheless. Tom sat back into the stool, all
his resolve destroyed. His certainty, fragile as it had been, was
gone forever. He had known, he didn’t want to admit it even now,
but he was in some way aware. His heart was racing and he
couldn’t take in enough air, the pain was tearing through him but
he couldn’t let her see his vulnerability, not her of all people.
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Chapter Ten
Ellen was looking at Tom, her tears replaced by uncertainty.
What was wrong with him, was it the shock, had he just been pole
axed by it all? Maybe he needed a second to get his breath back?
His anger seemed to have melted away. She leaned toward
him about to offer some solace for the pain he was going through.
She had felt the same, no worse, it was her child. She knew he
loved her as much as anything in the world. As her hand was
creeping towards his arm, she jumped out of her skin as her mobile
phone broke the intensity of the moment. Her ringtone was some
crappy R&B song.
Tom was aware of the sound, but couldn’t get his head into
gear. Was it the shock or his illness that was laying him low?
Ellen reached into her handbag, which hung from a chair and
pulled the glowing phone out. She looked at the screen and cried
out. She physically jumped and dropped the phone onto the
linoleum, it bounced once and lay there still kicking out some
bump and grind anthem that was wholly unsuitable for a woman in
her mid-forties.
“It’s them,” she said.
Her hands wringing as she spoke, her nerves were obvious
even in Toms weakened state. He tried to reach down to pick up
the ringing mobile but he wasn’t able, it was a stretch and he felt
too unsteady to risk the movement.
Ellen was just shaking, clenching and unclenching her fists.
“For fuck sake, Ellen pick it up, I need to know who these
cunts are, don’t just fucking look at it.”
She was startled by his abruptness, and tentatively retrieved
the phone, the song had begun again and Tom was silently thankful
she didn’t have a divert or message service set up. She looked at
the screen, holding the phone out in front of her as if it was
diseased or something.
He grabbed it from her probably a little too roughly, but he
was beyond niceties. His whole world was being turned upside
down and whoever was on the end of this call, was in receipt of a
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great deal more information than he had right now and that wasn’t
acceptable.
“Hello, who is this?”
He tried to control his voice, he wanted to sound as if he was
clueless, that he had just chanced upon Ellen's phone ringing and
answered for her.
“Hello, this is Ellen's phone, are you still there?” there was a
brief pause, he thought they might disconnect but then they spoke.
“Yes, my friend. I was ringing for Helena, yes, you put her on.
She will want to speak to me I think, yes?”
Eastern European was his first thought, it made sense of the
Cyrillic on the website, he handed the phone to Ellen and he
mouthed the words speakerphone as she accepted it. Shaking her
head, trying to refuse the call, he put his hand over the area he
judged the microphone.
“Just fucking talk to him, I need to know what the fucks going
on and he seems to be the go to man right now. Put the loud
speaker on and do as I say.”
She looked at the screen for a moment and pressed a button,
Tom could now here some background noise, he was in a bar or
club, but not in the main room, a toilet or office maybe.
“Hello, Helena are you there? It is me, Saffy’s friend, Yuri,
You remember, we speak last week, yes?”
She was shaking and her voice quivered as she replied, “Yes, I
remember you, Yuri is it? Yes, of course, what do you want, it’s
quite late to be calling.”
Tom nodded to encourage her, this was a good tack to take,
not surprised just aggravated by him, it would put him on the back
foot he hoped.
“Sorry, I work only late shift, yes. This is my time for
working, I call to see if you hear from Saf, she no speak to us and I
worried still, you understand? You seen her web photos? We need
to find her, yes?”
Ellen was physically exhausted by the last half hour and she
wanted to throw the phone away.
“No love, not yet. I will send you a message at the address you
gave me. I have it here don’t worry. Do you know anything else,
like who she might have gone with, anything like that.”?
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Tom was encouraging her as she spoke; his mind was racing
with possibilities. He wasn’t at work, but that didn’t mean he
couldn’t use some of the same techniques did it?
“We know nothing, except she gone and in trouble maybe,
you not speak to police do you? Or anyone else, like your friend
there?”
Was it a coincidence they had rung at that exact moment or
were there eyes on the house? Tom was weighing up the odds,
hoping his head was clear enough to get something from this call.
“No, he’s just a friend of my ex’s. Just come to pick up some
stuff he left behind, I haven’t told anyone, like you said.”
“Ok, good, yes very good, and your friend his name, what is it.
Maybe Saffy has told me about him.”
He shook his head as she looked at him for direction, he
mouth Mick and she nodded,
“He’s Mick, a work mate, he never really had anything to do
with her, she wouldn’t have spoken about him, I wouldn’t have
thought anyway.”
“Ah, this is not Tom, her father’s friend then? I think maybe it
was him. She talks about him to me, very good man, dangerous too
like her father, yes. She likes him very much, you not spoken to
him, have you? That would be bad for everyone, you understand,
yes?”
Tom decided he needed to do something or the call would end
without anything of use, it depended on whether he could get some
outside help and he wasn’t sure where that would come from just
yet.
He pulled the phone off of Ellen and began to speak, “Listen,
Yuri is it? I think you may have been wrong about all this, and I
just wanted to check you had the right track. You say that Saffy is
a friend of yours, but you tell her mother to look at a pornographic
website. Then, you tell her to keep quiet and tell only you if she
gets in touch, can you see why this might be a little difficult to
understand mate, can you?”
There was another pause, he was trying to think on his feet
and this usually meant a mistake was on the cards, most people
aren’t smart enough to tell believable lies without preparation.
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“I think maybe this is Tom. We thought you would come
eventually, maybe we expect you sooner, but still now you come
and we want you to stay out of this thing,”
Tom looked at Ellen; she looked frightened.
“We deal with Helena, she her mother, she wants her safe, you
are nothing, just a friend, why you so interested,” Yuri laughed.
“Maybe, you like the pictures of her, yes?
“You think maybe you’d like her back for yourself? She very
beautiful and she is not your family. There would be nothing
against law in this you think, you should stay out, yes?” Tom was
enraged by the suggestion, as was intended, but he kept his
composure, “You’re right on one thing Yuri, this is Tom. On the
rest of it you’re miles out I’m afraid. I’m a little pissed off you
would suggest such a thing but you don’t know me so I will let this
go for now.”
Ellen was looking worried by his tone, he could be winding
them up and making things worse.
“Just explain to me how you know Saffron? How did she end
up on that site? Do you go to the uni as well? No, I don’t think
that’s it, maybe a work colleague? Do you serve coffee with a
smile, Yuri? Is that your job? I’m not feeling that one either.”
There was a little chuckle in response and the background
noise suddenly increased then dropped away again, so he was in
another room where the door led into a bar of some sort, this was
useful to know, if he could get some technical help from outside.
“So we know you’re not from work don’t we? Are you a
photographer then? Maybe you took the pictures and have a bit of
a crush on our Saffy, you wouldn’t be the first to fall for her, is it
something like that Yuri?”
He laughed down the line, then he spoke to someone, whoever
had opened and closed the door. It was in Russian, which Tom had
studied a few years back but it was heavily accented, he thought he
got the gist, but could be wrong. Something about going in and
getting them, he definitely heard the word back; they were
planning something even as he spoke. Tom immediately jumped
up to look into the darkness outside; the rear wall put the whole
garden into darkness. It wasn’t a huge patch, just twenty or so feet
deep by the same wide. There was a back gate but it was still shut,
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the house was terraced so there was no side gate just next doors
party wall.
“Yuri, you’re not being very helpful, are you mate? Maybe
you should allow me to come and see you, where are you? Leeds
maybe, Manchester even? Just give me a postcode and I’ll Satnav
it and be there in no time.”
He knew it was a load of bullshit but he needed time to think,
if they were within striking distance he had to prepare without
alerting them to the fact he was ready.
“Sorry my friend, I feel like we friend because we both close
to Saffron, yes? But I am a long way from you right now, but
maybe we see you soon if you lucky.”
He was half laughing at his insinuation believing Tom was
unaware of the planned events. This was easy for whoever he had
sent to watch Ellen’s house, even with her security doors she was
vulnerable at the back where the doors were nothing more than
glass and plastic. He hoped to keep him talking long enough to
hear them crash in on them, he was disappointed.
Tom clicked end call and threw it to Ellen, she just managed
to pull it from the air.
“Get onto the old bill, tell them nothing other than we are
being threatened with a home invasion, play up the drama, it’ll get
them running a little faster than usual.”
As he spoke, he was running his hands over the handles of the
blades in Ellen expensive looking knife block, pulling out two big
ones. The cleaver would be useless to him but Ellen might be able
to get some use out of it. He put it onto the worktop beside her as
she practically screamed in hysteria to the 999 operator. The blades
were better than nothing, and he felt dangerously overmatched at
that point. He was sure there would be at least two X-rays and they
may be armed, if as he suspected they were Russians they may
well be packing heavy heat.
The garden was still too dark to make out any movement, as
they waited for any sign that they were trying to gain entry he tried
to calm Ellen down. Her panicking would be a major handicap in a
close quarters battle, his training was a distinct advantage though.
He was worried he wouldn’t have the strength he’d need to get the
job done, but this was survival, not just for him, there was Ellen
and most important of all, Saffy.
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Tom had decided to turn all the lights off to give them a
chance to see the attackers and also obscure their own location. He
tried to reassure Ellen he was on the ball and wouldn’t let her die,
Jules would have expected him to take care of Ellen. The ambient
light was better inside and they ducked down in case they could be
seen and give away the element of surprise.
His Russian was poor, but he’d done recon on a mafia figure
in the past, and he had picked up a few key phrases. When they
came, Tom was starting to flag a bit. He was breathing far too
loudly. He imagined everybody with ears within 50 yards could
hear his noisy intake.
They made so much noise he was easily missed in their rush to
steam in through the back door. Only two were taking part in this
bit of the operation but they looked formidable. The leading player
was tall, not quite as tall as Tom, with big broad shoulders, and his
hair was cut into a French style crop. He was showing a few tattoos
on his bare forearm and around his neck. The second was cut from
the same cloth, big and brawny again, his short sleeves showed
tattoos. They leapt the six-foot fence and realising they could be
seen, they rushed forward and without missing a step, put a size
thirteen boot into the back door, causing it to smash inward with a
tremendous crash, sending chards of the supposedly safe glass
flying into the kitchen.
The darkness in the room was different to outside, so they
paused a moment to get themselves acclimatised.
Tom used the element of surprise to reach forward and grab
the leader, lifting the big chopping knife and punching it into his
lower abdomen. The wound was most likely fatal, he hadn’t
considered not using such an aggressive manoeuvre. This was
something he was excellent at, and he wanted to send a message
back to, Yuri. He had called the cavalry in and the first assailant
was down groaning heavily.
Tom disengaged and ducked out of sight for a moment, he had
his trusty carving knife primed and ready to go to work on bogey
number two.
The second man had slowed down due to the attack on his
comrade. He entered the room slowly, realising he would be reliant
only on himself.
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The English soldier was in fact very tough. He was bottling it,
his heart was racing and he shook with nerves.
The assailant pulled what appeared to be a firearm from his
inside pocket.
Ellen, who was pressed up against the pillar separating the
room into two halves, panicked, she swung her cleaver down onto
the man’s arm. He was yelling in pain as Tom stepped up from his
crouching position, the exertion nearly finishing him and stuck the
first of his blades into his chest, while he rammed the other one up
under his chin. Blooded poured from the wound to his head, while
Tom had to turn the knife to release the one in the chest.
The first assailant was down for good, but still breathing. He
was groaning in pain as Tom hit the light switch to get a better
look. There was a faint sound of sirens coming from over the
garden wall.
“Ellen, go out front and scream and wail a bit, I need to talk to
my big friend here before he bleeds out.”
She looked down at the big muscled man, she was still in
shock, she had cut someone. There had been guns and stabbing and
blood. This wasn’t her world; she knew what Jules was but never
considered this as anything she would ever see for herself.
“Don’t just stand there woman, fucking move, I need as long
as you can get me, understand.”
She nodded, and headed out into her hall. She was glad to be
out of there and once she opened the front door, toiling away at the
locks for a moment, the fresh air was a blessing. Tom picked up
one of the knives and moved to kneel over the prone henchman,
“So, not quite as simple as you thought to take me on, was it?”
The Russian looked up barely able to hear, being preoccupied
with the excruciating pain in his stomach.
Tom grabbed his head, finding no purchase with his hair. He
caught hold of the neck, dragging it up to meet his baleful glare.
“Who is this Yuri? Where does he live? You start talking and
you may survive until the ambulance gets here, start talking you
fucking mug.”
He took the knife and shoved it into his shoulder, the man
screamed, unable to control himself. Tom smelt the urine, he shook
his head in disgust.
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“This how you thought you’d end up? Dying at the hands of a
sick frail man, and for what, to keep Yuri safe. You need to start
thinking about how much you want to live mate, cos I’m not going
to stop until either you tell me what I want to know, or you die.
Don’t misunderstand me mate, you won’t be the first.”
The Russian spoke a few words, not in English and too quiet
for him to hear above the now much louder sirens. He had a few
minutes’ tops, and wasn’t going to waste this chance at
information.
“Speak up comrade, and in fucking English, you cunt, I
haven’t got all fucking day.”
He pushed the knife in a bit harder and twisted the blade
slightly.
“He in London, he has big club, very famous for my people,
please stop, you not have to kill me, I tell you, no problem, please
stop.”
Tom eased off the blade, leant in his face mere inches from his
prey. “Where? London’s a big fucking place pal, you’ve told me
nothing yet, I need details. Is he the big boss or was it someone
else, he a leader or a follower?”
The man was failing fast, he would be losing pints of blood
very quickly and Tom wasn’t in the mood to offer first aid.
“Come on brother, start talking. I’m losing my patience here.”
“I told you London, near to Soho, I don’t know name of street,
but it near Soho. Yuri my boss but he has boss also, Vitaly, he
called Vitaly and he very bad man, you be very scared if he want
you dead, he very bad.”
He let the man go, removing the blade just as a policeman in a
high visibility jacket steamed in, screaming at Tom to step back
from the victim. He duly obliged, even going as far as kneeling
without being asked. In truth, he was dead on his feet but he
managed to speak quickly, explaining he was with the householder
when they attacked. It took a few minutes of too-ing and fro-ing to
ascertain his position in the scheme of things.
He wasn’t immediately released, but they were much more
interested in the two dead Russians. Tom’s informant finally
giving up the ghost before the medics could do anything, he was
dead from the moment he’d been stabbed. The wound was meant
to be fatal, they didn’t train the SAS to maim people, did they?
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Tom was taken back to the local nick, he had killed two men
after all and although they were both carrying pistols, there was
procedure and questions to be answered, and maybe even charges
to be laid. He was grateful to be away from Ellen for the time
being, he knew the FME would give him some treatment, pain
killers and the like and he wasn’t worried about a night in the cells,
he hadn’t sourced any accommodation anyway.
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Chapter Eleven
The radio was thumping through the paper-thin walls of the
refuge. Her nearest neighbour had a young baby and was awake
early, so apparently was everyone else now. She had decided to
soothe her little cherub with the dulcet tones of Cheryl Crowe’s
Sweet child of mine she had slept eventually, her exhaustion had
finally taken over and given her dreamless sleep for three hours,
she would have gone longer, but little baby Chloe had woken up
the stupid thoughtless cow next door.
She felt a little sick and climbed out of the single bed, it
looked like the type you got for a kids room. Formica style wood
surrounded the mattress, usually to stop little Johnny from rolling
out in the night. It wasn’t the worst she had slept in, but she was
hoping to not be here too much longer.
The bathroom was along the hall, it was early and despite the
pop concert coming out of the next room, most of the other girls
were still in bed. It was quiet as she padded along bare foot to the
glaringly white bathroom. There was a sterile smell in the room
which made her want to wretch, the refuge was technically a
medical facility and the bathroom had been decked out exactly like
a hospital, with a panic button and a ‘help needed’ draw string
hanging above the bath itself.
She couldn’t hold on any longer and vomited into the toilet
pan, it was mainly hot acrid bile, and it hurt her throat as she
gagged. The smell was making her wretch again in a seemingly
endless circle of gagging, smelling, and gagging. This was the
third day in a row she’d been sick, she hadn’t had a period for
ages, the drugs caused that according to few of the more sensible
girls she met, but this was worrying her, she couldn’t be pregnant
could she?
Yes, she had been sexually active but not necessarily
consensually and she wouldn’t be that unlucky as to fall pregnant
by Vitaly. Surely, God wouldn’t be so cruel. He had clearly
forsaken her, but even he wouldn’t be so unreservedly evil to her.
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She finished with the toilet and flushed the stinking yellow
muck away. She stood and looked into the huge mirror mounted
upon the wall opposite the toilet, not over the basin, which would
have made sense, but this was the NHS, so sense wasn’t required
was it?
She was pale, her beautiful complexion she had been so proud
of was gone, she looked more yellow than brown, and the rings
around her eyes made her look as if she’d been in a fight. It was a
wonder the woman hadn’t doubted her story, she hadn’t asked for
any corroboration from anyone else, she accepted her version of
events, which was highly edited to avoid any involvement with the
police.
Fiona had been lovely to her and she had felt so emotional.
Just the fact she had accepted her without any outward judgement
meant everything to her right now. She had known unconditional
love from her parents and probably Tom as well, but she had left
that behind. No longer would they see her as the same girl they had
felt so strongly for, she was evil and disgusting and they would be
ashamed to be associated with her. No one cared anymore and she
would have to accept this, she was alone but she had Fiona for
now. She would help her and get her to where she needed to be.
What if she was pregnant though, would that change things?
Could they decide to pass her on to someone else, did they have to
know who the father was and tell him what was happening? She
remembered they had rights these days, but did that include before
the baby was born? These thoughts frightened her but she knew
better than to worry, it might just be a bug and Fiona was a good
woman, she would help her, it was more than just a job to her,
Saffy was sure of it.
After a quick shallow bath, she got dressed. Her appointment
was at nine and she made herself some toast in the big communal
kitchen on the ground floor. There were a couple of other women
there and they were mooching about making cups of tea and some
toast, etc., not speaking to each other. Clearly nervous and
uncomfortable in other people’s company, she understood exactly
where they were coming from and joined them in their misery,
moving around within reach of each other, yet managing to avoid
eye contact, in fact any contact at all.
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The toast was brown bread, which she was happy about. When
she had been in her digs she had loved to toast brown bread with
marmite for a late afternoon snack. She had asked Vitaly for some
when she was there, but he never got her any. She knew why, he
didn’t want her to have anything she might actually enjoy, so he
had deprived her even the smallest of creature comforts.
It hadn’t been a terrible jail to live in, the modern décor and
high spec facilities, flat screen TV and super-duper sound system.
A huge specially made bed and walk in shower, but it had been a
jail, nonetheless. She couldn’t leave when she wanted to. If he was
there he controlled the music and television shows they watched or
listened to, he controlled the food they ate and even the drugs they
took to the finest of detail. He didn’t shop himself, he would get
Eva to do it, but he wrote his list, with strict instructions on what to
get and who from.
One of the girls dropped a plate as she walked towards the
sink, the clanging made them all jump and the girl herself cowered,
awaiting the habitual slap she would have got for such a
transgression at home. To cover their embarrassment they smiled
at each other and shrugged. Fiona stuck her head around the door
of the kitchen and smiled at Saffy.
“Hi love, we’re in the small sitting room this morning OK, if
you want to grab another coffee you can bring it with you, I’ve just
got to check in with Ann Marie.”
Saffy found herself smiling back, she had liked her from the
get go and nothing had happened to change her mind about her.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute, just getting a refill.”
Fiona was only a few years older than Saffy, but she looked
much older, she was of Irish stock with long wavy red hair and
pale freckled skin, a typical Paddy, her mum had always said. She
had been in a terrible relationship while at university. Her
Jamaican boyfriend had been a heavy drug taker and used to beat
her, if he couldn’t get high, or she failed to predict his mood well
enough.
She was a vastly intelligent young lady with huge potential,
yet she was trapped by this abusive relationship just as easily as a
silly slip of a girl might be. She had finally managed to get away
from him after a particularly serious beating, putting her in a
hospital for almost a week. The A&E nurses had rung the police
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and she had been talked into pressing charges, he had tried to resist
arrest and assaulted a police officer, it was for this he was
eventually imprisoned for.
Her case was deemed not in the public interests by the crown
prosecution service. The whole, thing had left an indelible mark on
her and she decided to move into the field of victim support,
feeling her own experiences would be a boon in helping others in
her position.
It had been frustrating and this had taken a toll on her, adding
wrinkles long before their due date. She had seen girls walk out of
the system and straight into the lion’s den, some had died, others
were still there, trying to live a life in the face of despicably
horrible violence. She hoped this time she could do some real
good, it did happen and it was a wonderful thing to know she had
helped some girls.
Saffy seemed to be bright and aware of her situation, and this
was one that she felt she could win. That’s how she looked at it,
wins and loses. There were too few wins in her league table and
she wanted to start to change that, and this time she was hopeful
for a result, but she had been wrong before.
Saffy was already sitting on one of the big green armchairs in
the dayroom, the smaller of the two social areas in the refuge. It
was often used for these private sessions as it was less clinical than
a formal interview room, and the girls seemed to relax in the
comfortable surroundings.
“Hi Love, you feeling okay this morning? Get a goodnight’s
sleep?”
Saffy smiled and shook her head, “ Not really, there’s a
dripping pipe or something, it kept me awake most of the night,
and when I did get some sleep the silly cow next door cranked up
her radio to full blast, I wanted to go and kill her at one point.”
Fiona gave her a tap on the shoulder as she sat in the adjacent
chair. She didn’t do the opposing seating arrangements favoured
by many of her peers, it was too much like a grilling and she
wanted to make her girls feel cared for not under suspicion.
“Well, we can hopefully get you moved to somewhere a little
quieter soon, they usually only take mothers with kids here, the
room you’re in is used by older kids who aren’t appropriate to
sleep with their siblings, sorry if it felt a bit childish in there.”
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Saffy shrugged her shoulders, “It’s a safe place to sleep Fiona,
that’s all I care about right now, safety.”
The older woman smiled sympathetically, she could imagine
the feeling it must have evoked, just knowing you wouldn’t be
disturbed by an evil bully who had decided it was your turn for a
beating. She hesitated a second knowing this bit could be hard for
Saffy.
“Listen, I know we covered some of this ground yesterday at
the medical centre, and you had to speak to the on duty lady as
well, but I need to have a record of events to make a case for you
to be given priority on the list. It’s a pain I know love, but it’s got
to be done.” Saffy looked a little nervous but nodded.
“So, can we start from the beginning again, I’ve done your
personal information. It’s just what’s been going on that brought
you here.”
Saffy took a deep breath, she had gone over what she would
say in her head a dozen times in the night, but it felt wrong lying to
Fiona, she would understand, wouldn’t she? There would be no
judgement from that corner she was sure.
“Well, I met Vitaly about a year or so ago. I worked in a
coffee shop and he came in a couple of times and asked me out.
We met up a few times and everything was really nice, you know,
he was a gentleman, never even tried to kiss me other than on the
cheek. I was infatuated by him, you just don’t meet men like that
in the real world do you?”
Fiona nodded, “You’d be amazed how many girls tell a similar
story, the almost perfect gent who turns out to be an utter bastard,
don’t be embarrassed Saffron, it’s what they do, it’s like a form of
grooming.”
Saffy looked at the opposite wall; there was a poster for
Childline, and another for a helpline for drug users. She was torn
on what to reveal and what to keep to herself, and what about the
fact she may be pregnant? Would that screw things up for her, she
just had to trust Fiona and hope for the best.
She told her about that first incident, the use of Rohypnol to
get her to “service “The businessmen. Vitaly had used that to make
a pretty penny in the end. He bragged that there would be no new
Russian football club owners for a while, he had laughed long and
hard over that particular scam. She spoke of the drugs she had used
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to help her forget, the sudden need that had taken her by surprise.
She hadn’t thought pills could be so addictive, she didn’t even
know what they were. The girls had called them Heaven, because
you were in the clouds for the short time they worked. She had
started to join the other girls in a line of speed every now and then,
just to liven things up. The side effect of Heaven was lethargy, and
speed was the obvious answer.
She briefly touched on her foray into online chat rooms,
where she had demeaned herself for the pleasure of men from all
corners of the world. This had been quite lightweight really, just
some nudity and rubbing herself to order, it was degrading, but she
could pay her way, except she was missing lectures and getting
behind on her work.
Libby her flatmate, had started nagging her about the hours
she was keeping and her constant lateness with her share of the
rent. They had fallen out and it had seemed sensible to move in
with Vitaly, it was free and very flash. That had been the start of
the real problems, although many would have seen everything up
to that point as bad enough. Vitaly loved drugs, he took all sorts of
stuff, never heaven though she noted, but he would smoke heroin
and snort cocaine everyday he could. He was all business until a
certain point in the evening, then he went for it, and he badgered
her into joining him. If she refused he would go mental, throwing
things about and threaten her with all sorts. She eventually joined
him and after a while, looked forward to the release the drugs gave
her.
Then things got really bad. One day he started on at her, she
was a waste of space, did nothing to bring in any money and she
would have to pull her weight from now on. The chat room stuff
wasn’t enough anymore and she would have to work like the other
girls in the pink elephant. Not the dancing or hooking, but the
photographs and stuff. She had pleaded to be left as she was, but
he withdrew the drugs and she succumbed to his will.
The first photo shoot had been terrible, they were in an
abandoned warehouse in east London, it was freezing cold, which
apparently meant the nipple would be hard, good for the shots, and
the photographer had been a filthy letch. She was made to sit in a
number of compromising poses, then lie on her back and go
through another raft of manoeuvres, finally on all fours. He would
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walk over and pull her legs further apart, having a good feel in the
process. She had been given some heroin half way through and
was unaware of most of what happened. When she came to her
senses, Yuri was there to pick her up and the photographer was
laughing away to him as they looked at the shots on his laptop. The
ache in her inner thighs told her all she needed to know. Yet again,
she had been used while in a stupor. Her shame was eased by a
dose of Heaven and it amazed her how easily she shrugged it off
this time. Out of spite she told Vitaly but he seemed to care less,
she had hoped to see the photographer punished.
The pattern continued with Vitaly using her as a honey trap for
unsuspecting businessmen, and some time porn star. If she even
tried to protest, he would beat her mercilessly and she would be
made to do it again. She thought the bruises would make the
photos useless but there was a market for this sort of thing
apparently, and if she didn’t behave he would make a snuff film
with her. She knew what that meant and never imagined he’d do it,
but she soon learnt he was capable of anything, quite literally.
One of the girls in the Pink Elephant had met a boy. He was
delivering drinks on a regular basis and she would be in the bar
area eating her breakfast or having a cheeky fag, they started to say
hello and things moved on. They started to text each other and she
had expressed a desire to leave the club and be with him, she
wasn’t stupid, she didn’t mention it to Yuri, but one of the other
girls had been trying to earn some brownie points and let it slip.
The young man was found beaten to death in a south London alley,
no suspects, it hadn’t been a mugging and the police were drawing
a blank as to motive.
The girl had gone missing as well. There was a rumour she
was in a brothel in the north, but this was never confirmed. The
message was clear, you didn’t decide to leave, you were there until
you became useless to them and no one knew of anyone who had
managed to get to that point before.
Things had settled into a routine by this point, there were the
drugs, the beatings, then the seedier and seedier stuff. What had
been terrible at the start began to seem acceptable in comparison.
She went from being alone, to having another girl with her. They
would be pictured touching each other, kissing, simulating sex, and
the other girls were no more comfortable than she was, but they
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were in the same boat, the punishment for failure to obey was too
serious to be considered. They did what was required and took
whatever they were given to dull the emotional pain they felt.
Then it got worse, men were brought in. There was still
usually another girl, usually very blonde and pale, they wanted to
have a distinctive look to their sets, the dark beauty alongside the
pale. The men were just pieces of meat that the girls were made to
fellate and engage in sex with, usually at very odd angles to
facilitate the camera. Saffy had fought her corner on this one, even
tried to appeal to Vitaly’s jealousy, how could he share her with
another man? What did that say about him? This had angered him
more than usual, he not only beat her, but also got Yuri in to rape
her. He watched as she screamed, he had made his point. Her
favours were his to give away and he cared nothing for exclusivity,
she was a product, one he himself enjoyed, but nothing more.
It was at one of these photo shoots, which by now had video
streaming on the Internet as well, someone somewhere wanted to
watch the shoot and would pay good money for the pleasure.
That’s when she met Eva. She was a gorgeous Lithuanian girl, tall
and curvy with long blonde hair. It was a natural colour, which was
borne out by her almost invisible pubic hair.
They hit it off straight away. It had been just them on this
shoot and they had shared a line of speed before starting and tried
to laugh off the humiliation together. Their chemistry on screen
was obvious and their contrast made them a good match. They
worked together often and when Eva started to be Yuri’s favourite
girl they got to spend more time together, even going to Oxford
Street on occasions when Vitaly was out of town on work.
Eva was tasked with doing Vitaly’s errands around the West
End, he didn’t want Saffy wandering about, maybe bumping into
any old uni friends and getting ideas about leaving. She hadn’t
even thought about it up to that point, the fear and need for drugs
outweighing any desire for freedom, just to think of this made her
mad as hell, but that was life for her at that moment.
Life progressed in much the same vein. She became immune
to the emotions her degradation should have brought her. Eva
made things easier, and their camaraderie was a shining light in a
dark world she found herself in. Her need for drugs was increasing,
she didn’t think of herself as an addict but she was. Vitaly was
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often preoccupied with business, leaving much of the day-to-day
stuff to Yuri, who seemed to like Saffy. The fact he had
participated in her rape and general exploitation didn’t seem to
occur to him, he would get them anything they needed. Pleasing
Eva was seemingly important to him and she was convinced he
had fallen for her, that she was different from the other girls, to
him at least.
The work was pretty regular, but even this made it bearable. It
became routine and being penetrated by these men for the
gratification of other men was just something she had to do to get
her drugs. The girls spent a lot of time fantasising about life
beyond this world but it was just that, fantasy, at least to Saffron.
Unfortunately Eva had let things grow further in her head, she
imagined Yuri was in love with her, that he would like to be free of
this life as well. To her chagrin, Saffy had said nothing to dissuade
her, she even bought into her plan on some level, the thought of it
now tore her up. When she had approached Yuri about it, he had
been careful not to say too much one way or another. He believed
it might have been a test set up by Vitaly, seeing if he was still
loyal as ever.
Once he had worked out it was Eva’s idea alone, he went
along with it and the rest was history. She was dead, and Saffy had
fled the night they had found her body. The picture in the evening
news showed a bloated bluish face that was unmistakeably her.
Vitaly had only brought the paper to ensure she saw the article, a
warning he hoped she would share with any of the other girls she
came into contact with.
Fiona hadn’t said anything as Saffy unloaded, she hadn’t
included everything, the murders were off limits, she didn’t want
to risk any police involvement, not through any loyalty to Vitaly,
she just couldn’t face him in court, if she even got that far. She was
sure Yuri would be employed to his fullest if anyone dared to offer
testimony against his boss. Fiona waited a moment for Saffy to
compose herself, she had been tearful throughout their meeting,
which had overrun but she was loathe to interrupt her.
“Listen Saffron, I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you do
have a future outside of this world, we can get you help with the
drug addiction and by moving you away from the area, hopefully
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you can get on with life as a normal young lady, maybe even
restart your degree, what do you think?”
Saffy was wiping her puffy red eyes, she liked Fiona and
trusted her, almost without cause but this sounded unlikely, didn’t
it?
“Well, I’ve been a day without anything and apart from being
desperate for something to perk me up, I am better than I expected
it to be, but yeah, I could definitely use some professional help.
Maybe a bit of prescription methadone or whatever they do these
days would help.”
She was smiling to hide her discomfort, she was dying for a
hit of something but she was also worried she was pregnant and
didn’t know how to broach it.
“Is there something else Saffron? You can tell me anything,
we are in a confidential arrangement, nothing is shared that you
don’t agree to. Obviously, there has to be some details or you
won’t be able to get help, the abuse and threat of possible attack
need to be out there so we can get you prioritised correctly, but I
don’t have to fill in all the blanks as it were, just an overall picture
for the authorities to intervene on your behalf.”
This was the moment, if she was going to tell anyone it was
Fiona, and if there was ever a time, it was now.
She took a deep breath and swallowed to clear her throat,
“there is one thing Fi’ which I don’t even know if it’s real, but I
may be pregnant.”
She left it hanging there, expecting some dramatic response,
but Fiona just sighed and smiled weakly.
“Oh you poor thing, have you taken a test or anything yet?”
she wrote something down on her notebook, “You do know the
drugs can affect your cycle, it’s not just a few days late is it,
because if it is, there’s probably nothing to worry about.”
Saffy shook her head,” I’ve been sick as well. I know it’s not
morning sickness because it’s always in the mornings, but I have
been having unprotected sex and yes, I’m over a week late, so add
in the sickness and I’m pretty sure it’s possible.”
Fiona got out her mobile phone and tapped away on the
keypad, as it started to ring she held it up to her ear and waited for
an answer.
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“Hi Debs, it’s Fi, I’m gonna miss the meeting, yeah something
has come up with a client and I need to be here, my folders up to
date so if they need anything specific it should be there.”
Her excuses made, she ushered Saffy out to her car and drove
her to the local medical centre. Saffy had deliberately gone out of
London before going into see someone, there was a real chance
Vitaly could have someone spying on her around Soho, but she had
used the bus, tube and tram to get to Croydon and she was
confident they were not following her. After a short meeting with a
drug counsellor, she was taken in to have a blood test. Then she
pee’d onto a stick for the pregnancy test, and all the while Fiona
stayed with her. She was determined to help this poor girl out of
her shitty situation and being at a staff meeting wouldn’t be doing
anyone, let alone Saffy any good.
They went into the coffee lounge while waiting for some
results, and the drugs people to decide what they were going to do
for her. The pregnancy test had been pretty instant and they had
just looked at it, then threw it into the bio waste bin and gone for
the coffee.
“So that’s it then, I guess, those things aren’t ever wrong are
they? I mean they wouldn’t have given it to me if it could be
wrong would they? I’m pregnant, I’m going to have a baby.”
“Well, at least we know all the facts now Hun, we can work
on what to do next after we’ve had a think, we’ll just enjoy a
coffee and let things sink in.”
Fiona wasn’t sure what the next step would be, trying to come
off of drugs was hard for anyone, but pregnant mothers couldn’t
use the same resources as regular addicts detoxifying. There was
the baby to consider. She wasn’t even sure what Saffron would do,
did she even consider having the baby or was an abortion on the
cards. Although she had been trained in this field, her deeply
catholic upbringing still came into mind when dealing with the
possibility of abortion, she had to be detached and professional and
think only of Saffron’s wellbeing, it wasn’t easy.
Coffees finished, there was an awkward silence as they both
waited for the other to bring it up.
“Well, I just want you to know, I’m not getting rid of it, I
don’t care who tries to make me, I won’t do it, I couldn’t.”
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“No one would do such a thing my dear, that’s not how it
works, you have a 100 per cent choice in this situation. We can
offer support in whatever you decide, but we don’t have the right
to force you into anything.”
She sighed inwardly in relief. The subject was dropped until
they went in to see the drugs specialist. Obviously, she had to be
told, as it would affect her treatment.
“Well I can’t say it doesn’t have a serious impact on how we
are going to be able to help you, the therapies we use do have risks
for unborn children and we won’t do anything that could cause the
foetus harm. I can give you some low grade inhibitors to quell the
urges for now, but we need to have a good think about what we
can do for you in the medium to long term.”
Saffy was glad they could still do anything at all, she had
visions of being left to go cold turkey. The fact she hadn’t been
suffering too badly these last few days was comforting for her.
Maybe this would be easier than she imagined, she knew her
current run of luck would suggest otherwise, but maybe she had
turned a corner.
They finished the last few tests and with a fresh prescription in
hand, went back to the refuge. It had been seven hours since she
had arranged to meet Saffron and they had been on the go for most
of the day. Fiona was tired, but had the satisfying feeling of a job
well done. She saw Saffy in through the security and gave her a
peck on the cheek.
“See you some time tomorrow, I don’t know when as I have
bumped a few things around today and I need to get back to some
people, but I’ll call in at some point. Any problems and Ann Marie
will get me on my mobile, try and get some rest Hun, Ok?”
“Thank you Fi’ for everything, I know I’ve been a proper ass
ache but I do appreciate it, all of it.”
She went past the main dayroom where the girls and their kids
were watching the local news. The body dumped in the Thames
was still big news as women’s groups claimed the police had given
up trying to find who she was or what had happened to her. Saffy
couldn’t listen any more, she grabbed a glass of water from the
kitchen and took it up to her room. She took the pills she had been
prescribed, big sods they were too, and settled down. She was bone
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weary and too tired to consider all she had been through today,
when sleep came, it was a blessed relief.
116

Chapter Twelve
It took most of the next day for Tom to get released, he was
technically handed over to the local hospital for some treatment,
but the detective in charge of the inquiry into the incident had been
in the services and had made a call to Stirling Lines for him. He
wouldn’t have asked them to do anything, but he was family to the
regiment and anything they could do for him was done. They
vouched for him and informed them of his prognosis, which
changed things drastically for Tom.
The time he spent in the Cell had been restful, he slept for
most of it after the FME had prescribed some pain relief, and he
was able to forget for a short time what he had found out. If he’d
thought about Saffy at all, he would have been torturing himself
with no good reason, he couldn’t get away from his involvement in
the deaths of two men. Fair enough, they had attacked his locale
with firearms and he had used household instruments to defend
himself, this went in his favour, legally.
The discovery of the tattoos was quite a disturbing turn of
events. They had all the characteristics of Russian mobster
imagery, ritual markings that denoted their position in the
hierarchy of the organisation. You could see if they were thieves,
killers, had served time and even their political affiliations.
Information was still sketchy but there was a school of thought that
claimed to have a handle on each different meaning. According to
these guys, the two men were both confirmed killers, with some
military experience, they were mid-level thugs who could be relied
on to carry out any orders, killing wasn’t a moral issue to these
guys, but a fiscal one. With the obviously justifiable killing, and
the fact he was not expected to live more than a few months, it was
decided he could be released on his own cognisance until the
coroner’s court ruled on whether he should be tried for anything.
They took him to the local hospital, where he stayed for a couple
of hours while they gave him some drugs to keep his lungs clear
for a while.
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He got a cab back to Ellen's, where he was hoping to find
some information to add to the small bits he already had. The first
thing he wanted was Ellen's cell phone, and this mysterious e-mail
address she was supposed to use in the event Saffy got in touch. He
could use this information to pin point the whereabouts of this,
Yuri, and if necessary, his boss.
It wasn’t necessarily the case that Yuri would be working for
anyone higher up the chain on this, after all, would a high level
mobster really be interested in chasing down a missing girl? As
much of an asset as she may be. He couldn’t know for sure until he
had better knowledge of these guys. He had suspected the tattoos at
the time, his mind was attuned to these kinds of details, it could be
the difference between life and death on operations, and he had
been trained by the best.
Ellen didn’t give her phone up without a fight. What if Saffy
had tried to get her, she wouldn’t be able to answer it if Tom was
using it for some reason could she? She had to be there for her girl.
Especially now she realised how dangerous these people were, that
they were looking for her.
Tom managed to assuage her complaints by setting up a
divert, any call that came for her phone would be diverted in the
case of it not being answered. She mistook this to mean any call
would go straight to her new phone, a pay as you go Tom had with
him. But in reality, it gave Tom the opportunity to answer if he
needed to, and only diverted if he declined to do so, the less she
knew the better.
With everything he needed in his possession, he was ready to
leave Ellen and head to London, where he hoped to get some
professional help. He still had friends in useful positions and he
could call in a few favours, after all, there was no point in leaving
them un-used. There was no rainy day left to prepare for, he was in
a fucking tropical storm of a day. Ellen was understandably
frightened, Yuri would know that his men had failed, so he would
be wondering first how? And then why?
If this was just a simple family friend, how could he have done
this thing, and there was still the question of where Saffy was. Tom
had no intention of letting any calls from Yuri get through his
newly created filter system. He advised Ellen to go stay with some
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friends of theirs back in Hereford. There was nowhere safer for her
at this moment in time.
As he readied himself to leave she pulled him back into the
kitchen, “You will find her Tom? you said you were going to, I
heard you when you spoke to Yuri.”
She was excitable as she held his arm, the pleading was
evident in her voice.
“Jules would have wanted you to, you know that, I know you
think nothing of me Tom, but do it for Jules and Saffy. You loved
him, and Saffy is like a sister to you, find her and bring her back to
me Tom, promise me, please?”
He took a step back to see her properly. She had been in a shit
state when he got there and now she was in a worse one, her hair
was showing grey running through it, her crow’s feet were deep
and irritated where she had rubbed her eyes constantly, she was
forty two but looked closer to fifty two right now. She was a
broken woman and he couldn’t leave her without at least a crumb
of hope.
“Listen Ellen, I do care about you. Yes, I hated you for what
you did, more than he did, and you’re right, Saffy means the world
to me,” he paused to add weight to his words. “I am going to get
her, before these scumbags even get a chance at her again, I
promise, and not for anyone else, not Jules or even Saffy, but for
you because you’re her mum and no one deserves to be in this
position regardless of what they might have done in the past. Rest
assured these bastards are going to rue the day they fucked with
Saffy.”
They hugged and Ellen shed a few tears as she patted Toms
back.
“Thank you Tom, for last night and everything, I’m truly
grateful.”
“I know Hun, I know.”
He had booked a taxi to take him to the train station and had
arranged for his further appointments to be at The Royal Marsden
in South West London. It was a specialist hospital and would give
him the very best care available, which he wasn’t exactly looking
forward to.
His visit to the Army specialist had gone as expected, he was
dying, and if left untreated, very quickly in the scheme of things.
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There were options available to him, chemotherapy and
radiotherapy to reduce the size of the tumour, but these were not
recommended as they were extremely taxing health wise and in his
condition, would increase his time in the hospital greatly.
He needed to have his wits about him for as long as possible,
he had a final mission to complete and although he knew nothing
of Saffy’s situation at this time, he did know he had a job of work
to do. One he was determined to do unhindered by opiates and
what amounted to poisonous therapies.
The specialist, a Mr Scalpole, had pushed for Tom to have
therapy of some sort to aid his palliative care, but he met him
halfway and agreed he’d think it through and get back to him.
They also discussed what he could expect in the future, the loss of
weight, hardness of breathing and generally feeling shitty for long
periods of time and these would worsen with time. He would
eventually end up needing a hospice to care for him. This all
sounded reasonable for Tom, he had painted pictures in his head of
being crippled and needing a wheelchair, so this was a bonus of
sorts.
He left the hospital feeling like he just might be able to fulfil
his task, of course the goalposts had moved dramatically in the last
few days, and he was now not as confident.
The journey to London was a strange one, he slept a few hours
and took a couple of calls from Hereford, one from the welfare
officer asking if he needed anything right now and what plans he
had for his hospice care. He fielded these as best he could. He had
no intention of going to some hospice to die, he wanted to go out
in style and felt he could still get the chance if he played things
right.
London brought such strong emotions to mind. He had been
sixteen when he left and although he had been there now and again
on jobs and the odd bit of freelancing as a bodyguard, he hadn’t
spent any time in the old haunts. He was a South London boy from
the mean streets of Brixton, should he be going back there to find
some lodgings or try and get a little closer to the city centre? He
would call his old mate Mo, and see where he might best be able to
set up a base of operations. Mo was his next call, he had known
him for a good few years and they had worked together in liaison
roles in the Detachment, as well as a few black ops in some very
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dodgy places. Mo was MI5 and as such, wasn’t supposed to be
officially involved with any ex-service men, which in some ways
Tom was, due to his current state of service readiness.
He took his phone into a toilet and asked Mo to do him a few
solids. He wanted to know about Yuri, Vitaly and anyone above
them that may be after Saffy. He gave him the details of the phone
calls with Yuri, the details of the number that was called and the
email address she was supposed to contact.
Mo wrote them all down and double-checked the details, he
was a very clever man and he never left room for error or
miscommunication. He couldn’t guarantee to be able to find out
everything, but he knew there was a task force involved with the
Eastern European organised crime situation, so he should be able
to do something. He would call Tom back as soon as he got any
news worth mentioning.
As the train pulled into Kings Cross, he was struck with a
strange feeling, something he never imagined he would ever feel,
Home. It was just a word, but Jules had said many times it was a
feeling as well, he felt it in Grenada. He described it as just feeling
like you belonged.
Tom had laughed this off, Jules was overly sentimental, his
only weakness as far as Tom was concerned, but he was finally
getting it. He had last been in London as a visitor six years ago for
the funeral of his mother, she had died suddenly of a heart attack.
He was still amazed she had gone out that way, she was stick thin
and walked miles every day, but her time was up and off she
popped. The whole thing had been a rushed affair. He had been on
duty in Bosnia at the time and had been given a two weeks leave of
absence to sort things out. He had relied heavily on Benedict back
then.
He had done all the donkeywork, which made Tom feel bad.
He was old and shouldn’t have been burdened in this way, but for
all his military experience he was clueless about the nuts and bolts
of everyday life, or death as it happened. He just assumed these
things fell into place, the state would do their bit, but he was very
wrong. There had been a policy that paid for the service and coffin
and stuff, his mum had been many things, but he never imagined
organised as being one of them. He would have to revisit his idea
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of who she was one day, maybe this was the time, it couldn’t
exactly be left any longer, could it?
Tom had been born to Demi, a single woman in St George’s
Hospital, Tooting. This was in the late seventies and being a lone
parent wasn’t de rigueur. She had been a tough cookie though, and
things were never a problem for him as he grew up in their house
in the back streets of Brixton. Demi had been a formidable role
model, she was tall for a woman, slim, athletically built not unlike
Saffy he recalled. She had long deep chestnut hair that was always
tied up, he remembered sitting on the sofa on a Sunday evening
watching telly while he brushed it for her.
She was beautiful and kind and just a little bit crazy. She was
a flower power chick; she advocated freedom of speech, love they
neighbour and every other liberal slogan out there. She had been at
Greenham Common for a whole month.
Tom had opted to stay in Brixton, camping wasn’t yet
something he was interested in. She had tried to instil this love thy
fellow man bull into him, but he was out there with the kids of
these neighbours and you may have loved them, but they damned
well didn’t reciprocate.
He never knew anything about his father and it never occurred
to him to ask. When he signed up for the Army she had been
distraught, this was exactly the opposite of what she wanted for
him. He had needed her permission and also details of his father
for the forms. He took them to her and she filled in her bit, sadness
overtook her and he wrongly assumed it was because she had to
give in to his desire to be a soldier, but in truth, it was his
parentage she was sad about. She felt the sorrow of a parent who
thought she had not done enough, that the lack of a father was her
failure to provide one. He looked at the forms afterwards to see if
he would find something out, where it asked for details of father,
she had written deceased, nothing else, and for the Army this was
apparently enough, because he got in.
He had kept in touch with her for a few years but it was hard
to talk to her sometimes. She was always asking too many
questions. When he was in Ireland she would badger him about
civil rights, and he spoke to her less and less. He kept in touch with
regular letters which he believed was a decent compromise, she
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never complained in her letters back, so he figured things were
good for her too this way, he was wrong.
When he had contacted Benedict about helping with the
funeral and stuff, he had been amazed at the truth of how it had
hurt her so much not to speak to him. He would have cried, if he
had the capacity back then. He was a tough hard Para and tears
were not an option, he felt a dick head about it now. Benedict had
been as good a friend to him as Jules in many ways, he too had
been a mentor to the young impressionable boy, with no father
figure and little idea of what he was supposed to be doing in the
big bad world of 80’s Britain.
He had first met him during a long summer holiday from
school. He had started comprehensive the year before and had no
local friends. His junior playmates had gone on to have new
friends and when he went for a wander down the market, a gang of
bigger black kids had tried to ‘tax’ him, mugging by any other
name. He had decided his best course of action was to run, he
wasn’t aware of the fact that two of the lads were South London
sprint champions at schoolboy level.
He managed to weave through the stalls selling exotic fruit
and veg as well as hair extensions for a short while, but they split
up and trapped him along the side of a music stall. There was Bob
Marley blasting out of a huge Ghetto blaster, the scent of what he
knew as ‘the herb’ drifting on the breeze. One of the lads had
pushed him backwards into the wooden cart that served as a
vendor pitch in the Brixton market, this had jogged the music
player and Benedict emerged from the front, a huge spliff in his
hands, shouting about “Blood clahts” and what have you.
He saw the white boy surrounded by bigger West Indians and
took umbrage, he had cussed them and their mothers, threatened to
tan their hides and all manner of things. They gave up the
endeavour as a lost cause, and left Tom in no doubt he was going
to be seeing them again real soon. He had sat with Benedict on the
stall for a while to be sure he had a clear path home and enjoyed
sitting with the old man. They had talked about the past, what it
had been like for Benedict in Brixton in the sixties and seventies,
the Babylon and their racist laws. He was great company and Tom
thanked him and headed home. He went back day after day and
eventually started to get paid a small wage to help set up the stall
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and pack away at night, the only rule was he couldn’t touch the
Ghetto blaster, it was his and his alone to decide on what they
would play as the soundtrack to the market.
When Tom decided to join up, he had chatted to Benedict
about it, he hadn’t excelled in school and prospects weren’t great
for him. Mum seemed okay for money although he had no idea
what she did for a living, she was always home when he was there,
what he never found out until after her death, was she was a
Trustafarian. Her parents, while disappointed with her life choices,
had left her well taken care of financially, and their deaths gave her
a whole rake of investments that he had no clue about until the will
had been read. The whole thing had been an emotional blur to him.
Benedict had seemed like he did on the day they met and apart
from a few changes cosmetically like a missing footbridge, Brixton
had seemed the same. Tom was left a fairly wealthy young man,
not that he had need of anything at this time in his life, he had
spent the previous months in the company of welsh Dave, and all
his thoughts were on a future in the SAS. He let Benedict live in
his old house, rent-free for as long as he needed it, in fact, it was
only because he hadn’t been told the house was empty that he
considered the chance Benedict could still be alive.
He had used his money to buy his place in Hereford. He had a
healthy balance in his account and was sure he had some extra
funds somewhere, he hadn’t cashed in any of her investments and
had a card for some broker who managed the portfolio. He hadn’t
ever bothered to call him, but he did get a letter every now and
then saying things were going well. He chucked them in the bin, he
loved his life and didn’t really want it too complicated by financial
issues.
The taxi rank outside was packed as it had started to rain.
London in the rain, just as he remembered it, smoky, grimy and too
fucking busy, welcome home son he thought.
After twenty minutes in the queue he managed to get a green
cab, black seemed to be out of fashion as most of them, although
traditional in shape, were now covered in all manner of logos and
decals. His was advertising some Malaysian airline, but he
couldn’t tell you which one, score one fail for the media guys. The
cabbie must have been having a bad day as he said nothing all the
way across the river into the depths of South London, he hadn’t
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even whinged about going south of the river which was obligatory
as far as Tom was aware.
He sat in the big comfortable chair looking out through the
rain-streaked windows at the vastly different London to the one he
had last seen. As he began to recognise landmarks he was aware of
the feeling coming back, it wasn’t something he could have
described, a bit like apprehension but not in a negative way, it was
just odd. He had asked the driver to take him to the tube station, he
didn’t know why. He had every right to go straight to the old house
and ask for use of the spare room, but he didn’t feel he could, it
would have been presumptuous, for all he knew he might be
renting the room out to a lodger or had a lady friend living with
him. He didn’t know and wouldn’t just invade his old friend’s
privacy just because he had a deed for the property.
The cab driver maintained his uncabbie like persona all the
way there, just nodding thanks for the five quid tip, it suited Tom
and he just smiled as he saw him cut up a van as he pulled back out
into the traffic flow.
He had no luggage to speak of, a holdall with some washing
kit, a pack of underpants from the Tesco near the hotel in Brum,
and the mobile phone he had taken off of Ellen. He would have to
pick up some more gear he figured, but he had better sort out his
lodgings first. He questioned why he had bothered to come here if
not to stay at the old house, yeah, he hoped he would see Benedict,
but that was about it.
Mo would probably be able to meet him regardless of where
he was staying, so Brixton was more of an emotional choice than
for any sensible logical reason. He walked along the High Street
heading towards Railton Road, home of the once infamous
Frontline, back in the bad old days of riots and aggravation. To get
there you passed through Atlantic Road traditional home of the
market, he wanted to see what had become of his old stomping
ground after all these years. There was a new smell in the air as he
turned into the street and saw the stalls lined up on either side of
the road. There were people wandering up the centre of the stalls,
people of every shape and colour. The stalls were a real mixed bag,
still a few fruit and veg sellers, some spice merchants and mobile
phone accessory vendors alongside moody hand bags and belts,
there was even a stall selling comics of all things, vintage no
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doubt, but very different to what had gone on before. He had gone
about a third of the way along, jostling past people who had
decided to stand still for no apparent reason, when he heard a
familiar sound. There in the ether was Bob Marley, jamming and a
jamming, he couldn’t still be out here could he? How old must he
be by now? He passed the spot they had sat in day after day and he
began to doubt it was possible, but there on the corner of Electric
Avenue sat Benedict, a stall full of garishly coloured CDs behind
him displayed on especially created shelves.
He was laughing along to some joke being told by a young
looking white guy dressed in full posse uniform, silly baseball cap
worn to one side, naturally, a hooded zip up jacket with a huge
Adidas logo across the front and jeans that didn’t reach his waist. It
was funny to see him there, unlike before, he was looking older but
he seemed to be a having a whale of a time waving to people as
they called out as they passed by, some were even feigning a bit of
old school dancing for his amusement.
“Hey old man, didn’t you here Bob Marley died a long time
ago, put on some Eminem or Jay Z, you old fucker.”
He had a huge grin on his face as he waited for Benedict to
respond, his old friend had heard his voice but didn’t seem to be
able to see him, he looked straight at him but his head carried on
round still searching.
“Fuck off pal, we play proper music on this stall, one hundred
per cent roots and lover rock, if you don’t like, it fuck off.”
The young guy had stood up and faced down Tom, he was a
decent size lad, tall and well built, although his clown costume
took some of the impact of his words away.
“Is I hearing things in my old age? Is that my soldier boy
come back to see his uncle Ben, is it?”
Tom realised he wasn’t trying to look for anyone, his eyes
were a milky opaque white, he was blind.
“Calm down mate, there’s no problem here,” Tom was
addressing the big youth.
“You tell your guard dog to stand down Ben, I don’t want to
have survived Iraq and Afghanistan just to cop it on the streets of
my youth do I?”
Ben laughed as he tried to rise from his chair.
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“Back down Ricky boy, this here is Tom. I spoke to you
about him many time’s, he’s the original White Rasta man in this
market.” He was upright now but not moving too well.
“Long time before you get the job, come closer son, give old
Ben a hug for old time’s sake.”
He put his arms out and Tom slipped between his frail
embrace and hugged him a little too hard as it turned out. He put
undue stress on his aching rib cage and did Benedict no good
either.
“Ohh calm down my boy, you all skin and bone these days,
you been locked up in some prison camp not getting fed?”
He was laughing as he spoke, the huge grin had a few extra
gold teeth but otherwise his skin was clear of any signs of age. It
was his hair, which had been white on the temples for as long as
Tom had known him that was now showing a full dusting of snow.
He still wore a tea cosy style hat but he had never gone in for the
dreadlocked look like his hero, Bob Marley. “Yeah, I’ve got some
health shit to deal with, it’s why I’m back in town, for some tests
and things, and I need to find my Goddaughter.”
He figured this description was easiest to explain.
“She’s at uni in London, couldn’t resist the chance to see you
again mate, what’s been happening?”
Ben had started to go blind about four years ago, but by then
Ricky had come on the scene. He had been a complete life saver,
he managed to keep the stall up and running, it wasn’t as good an
earner as it had been, the rise of the digital age had meant more
people had access to the old stuff he peddled in a myriad of ways
now, but it ticked over and kept him in groceries and electricity,
which was as much as he needed. His pension topped it up enough
for him to partake of an odd barley wine and an even rarer spliff.
What amazed Tom was Ricky took no wage at all, he did
everything he could possibly get done and all for respect of the old
man, who had seen something in him that was worth his time.
They pulled out one of the milk crates that seemed to spring from
the ground in markets and he took a pew.
He felt unfeasibly happy sitting there with Bob Marley
begging some woman not to cry, Ben waffling about how things
had changed round here and Ricky just piping in every now and
then with a goofy comment. He didn’t feel too bad either, no pain
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or tight chest, just calm and happy, it had been a while since this
had been the case, so he just enjoyed it for a while.
His phone, or rather Ellen's phone rang in the middle of a
story Ricky was telling about a fight he’d had a couple of days ago,
Tom raised his hand in apology and moved behind the stall for
privacy. It wasn’t Yuri but Mo, so he accepted the call.
“Hello mate how’s things?”
Knowing Mo, he could probably see him through some supersecret
spying system Tom thought.
“Yeah, actually pretty good today mate thanks, any news?”
there was brief pause, which didn’t bode well.
“Of sorts mate, of sorts, I can’t really do this on the phone so
we need to meet up, you’re in town now aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m in Brixton at the moment but I’m not sure where
I’ll be staying, but it won’t be too far from the centre, just name a
time and place, sooner the better if you can.”
He heard some pages being turned, Mo wasn’t free to just up
and go, he was major league in this world of his.
“I’ve got some time early tomorrow, and I think you’ll want to
hear this quite soon. Don’t worry it’s not directly related to
Saffron, but it’s quite important you have this info before you
upset any apple carts,” This didn’t sound good for Tom, “ shall we
say 9 o clock at the coffee bar at Waterloo main line station, that
suit mate?”
Tom nodded, superfluously as it happened, “Yeah, I can
manage that, is there more than one of these places or is it obvious
which one?”
“There’s a few stalls dotted about, but this is the only proper
sit down one, it’s in the middle of the main concourse against the
back where the mail vans drive in, you can’t miss it, see you there
mate I got to go.”
The connection was gone, Tom noticed the battery was getting
low and panicked for a second, did he remember to get the charger
off Ellen. This was second nature to him on ops, but he was getting
muddled, maybe it was the drugs or the cancer itself, it didn’t
matter which, he was going to have to try harder to stay on the
money from now on. He could buy a charger if one was required,
but he may not be able to sort any future fuck ups so painlessly.
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Ben was all for Tom staying with him. The spare room was
now a music store, the old vinyl discs took up a lot of space, so he
would have to use the sofa. Ricky wanted him to crash at his, he
had a big house in Kennington, which was handy for Waterloo and
the West End, so Tom opted for Ricky’s. Ben didn’t seem to mind,
as long as he was going to spend some time with him that was
what mattered. They put the stock into its cases and packed the
stall away, it was similar to the old one except it was all metal.
They wheeled it into the lock up beneath the train station and
walked Benedict back to his house.
It was weird for Tom to be back there, he had never lived
anywhere else until the Army, so it was jammed packed with
memories, literally every milestone in his young life had happened
in this place, losing his virginity to his only proper girlfriend,
Emily Simkins had occurred in the back bedroom.
Ricky got the kettle on and Benedict gave Tom a tour. His
blindness wasn’t an issue in the house, Ricky had done a sterling
job on the place, there were handles everywhere and nothing that
could potentially trip him up. He navigated around with
consummate ease and Tom was more interested in watching him
than anything he was shown.
They all sat in the lounge for a cuppa, Ricky was adept at
making tea as well, Tom noticed, just how he liked it, two up as
they said in the military. After half an hour of chatting, Ben looked
done in and Ricky called a mini cab for him and Tom.
They said their goodbyes, another hug between the old mates
and another one for Ricky, then off they went into the cool evening
air for the short drive up the main London Road to Kennington.
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Chapter Thirteen
Yuri had fucked up, that was the long and short of it as far as
Vitaly was concerned. Somehow, the two goons he had sent had
been caught by the police or had just decided to run away, rather
than face the music. Whatever, it didn’t matter, he did not have
Ellen or Tom in his possession, which was not acceptable right
now. Yuri had been worried about the men talking to the police but
Vitaly had no such concerns. They were seasoned pro’s from the
mother country, they had done things that would have made Papa
Joe himself blush and never spoken a word, there was no cause for
concern there, just utter frustration.
When the word had come that the job had gone awry, he had
wanted to throw everything off his desk and smash the place up.
Open expressions of rage were not uncommon, but he wanted to at
least seem unbothered by Saffy’s disappearance. It was just a case
of showing the others it wouldn’t be tolerated, nothing personal,
except it was exceedingly personal, and he couldn’t quite get his
head around why. There was no love there, she was stunning and
extremely clever but this never appealed to him, in fact, he had
enjoyed breaking her spirit all the more.
Eventually he would find her and it was more important than
he let on, not only was she wilful and defiant, but she knew things
that could not be allowed to come out. Maybe this was why he felt
so strongly about her capture, it was merely self-preservation, but
why then had Yuri not panicked so? Yuri was more at risk than he,
but Yuri was calm and disinterested in finding her, he missed Eva,
that was obvious but he should still be able to carry out simple
instructions, shouldn’t he?
None of the words he thought of could describe his anger, he
spoke four languages and none of them came close to anything like
how he felt, was it really Yuri’s fault he felt this way? What did it
matter, he was not in a mood to reflect on such things, he wanted
results and not excuses.
“Yuri, why must we wait around for your men to come to us?
There must be something we can do, a source who might be able to
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shed a little light on this situation, who haven’t we contacted?
There must be someone?”
They were speaking in Russian, they always did when they
were alone, it served two purposes, most of the girls while Eastern
European, were not native Russians and couldn’t understand them,
or so they thought, and it allowed them some eloquence they could
never manage in English, and to be honest they both detested the
English language.
“I have racked my brains, there is no one I can think of, maybe
we should look somewhere new, a different tack. I could try and
reach out to the Triads and see if they have anyone we could use,
it’s about time we mended the fences with them after all this time.”
The fences that needed mending were down to an incident in
the Pink Elephant. One of their established members had been on
a night out and took a fancy to one of the Polish girls, no big
problem there, except he didn’t follow the rules, his English was
poor, as was the bouncer’s who was Russian. Between them, they
managed to fall out and the two bouncers ended up beating him
senseless, also hurting the two guys he was with, putting them in
the hospital for a while. Vitaly had refused to apologise, and there
had been some minor fracas on the streets of Soho for a few weeks
before peace broke out. Business was suffering and they were
nothing if not professional in their approach to crime, but nothing
had been agreed, it just worked out that way.
“If you want to make some move in that direction, then I’m
okay with it, but give them no ground. I won’t be held to ransom
by those yellow bastards, just be careful.”
This agreed upon, they parted with a hug, not for emotional
reasons, it was a matter of fact action that was common amongst
their people, although Yuri was Russian pure bred and Vitaly was
the hated Tajik, but he was the boss, and Yuri would do anything
for him.
Vitaly left the Pink Elephant and went for a wander through
the streets of London. He was restless and could see no value in
sitting at his desk. The bustling West End always cheered him up.
These mindless automatons were a goldmine just waiting to be
tapped, they would buy endless amounts of counterfeit goods, get
drunk in the many bars and the men always went for a night at a
strip club, where they were bled dry on overpriced alcohol and
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expensive women, and he supplied it all. One way or another, these
people kept him in business. The fact he spent most of his illgotten
gains on drugs and bribes in order to make more money was
not lost on him, but as long as these people came to the West End
seeking retail therapy or hedonistic pleasures, he would have
ample supply of funds, no need to worry about retiring just yet.
Thinking of making money brought him naturally back to
Saffron; she was a good earner for him, despite the cost of
supplying her with drugs, she more than made up for it in revenue
earned. Apart from his lucrative porn sites, mostly catering for
Russians, they liked the exotic looking girls they never got to see
on the streets of an average city, she was also very useful in the
blackmail part of the business. These fools would lose all common
sense in her company, he had DVDs of numerous luminaries in
compromising positions with his caramel beauty, she should be
brought back if for no better reason than to get her earning again,
but he knew this would never happen. He was confident of getting
her back, but he wouldn’t be able to just start again where they left
off. She had to be punished to deter the others from thinking it may
be possible to leave. Maybe he could manage to deliver the
message without going too far, this thought was pleasing to him,
yes, he would have to think about it but with a bit of creativity, he
might just get her back into his life, his bed and most importantly,
his business.
His meanderings brought him to Goodge Street, not far from
the coffee shop where they had met. He was in the mood for an
espresso and maybe he would find something out in the process.
He ordered his double espresso and a cake the English insisted on
calling a muffin. He sat near the counter and in a lull in activity,
smiled at the young girl who was busily handing out napkins and
clearing tables.
“Hello, my friend. You know maybe my friend who works
here for a while? Saffron? Beautiful girl, with brown skin?”
His accent wasn’t as thick as it used to be, but she still had to
think about his question for a second.
“Oh, you mean Saffy, yeah, I used to work with her now and
then, yeah, lovely girl, she’s not been around for ages though, she
moved away I think. Magda might know, hang on a minute love.”
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She ducked back behind the counter to speak to a frail Slavic
looking girl, she shook her head and back she came.
“Sorry love, she hasn’t seen her for ages either. If I see her
shall I tell her you’re looking”?
He smiled and shook his head, “No don’t worry my friend, I
will catch up with her I think, thank you very much for asking
though, you’re a very nice lady.”
She blushed and disappeared outside to clear a recently
vacated table. This was always a long shot and he liked the coffee
here, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. He finished his drink,
left half the muffin and got up to leave, he couldn’t help looking at
the door over the road, this had been the reason he had been in the
coffee shop that fateful day when he had met her. A Chechen drug
dealer that they were trying to pin down owned the flat above the
electronics shop. Yuri had found him eventually and he was now
firmly ensconced in the foundations of a new tower block in East
London, good times he thought and smiled again.
He stood on the corner of Goodge Street wondering what to do
next, he couldn’t go to the club and see the girls, they were still
frightened by the death of the last girl, she should have been
tougher he thought. Yuri had been angry, but he said nothing, he
knew better than to complain about it, his job was to do, nothing
more and he was handsomely rewarded for his troubles, in fact,
Yuri was probably considerably better off than Vitaly. He worked
all hours and lived in a shitty little flat in Camberwell that he
inherited from an old colleague that Vitaly had seen off when he
got to London. His loyalty to his old friend was forgotten instantly
when he was given the flat and a hike up the pecking order, he had
been little more than an enforcer before, now he ran things for
Vitaly and although he got some shitty jobs, he enjoyed the perks
of his new role. If necessary, Vitaly could always put him under
pressure for a loan, then when it came time to pay him back he
would have him removed. As much as he liked and respected Yuri
he wouldn’t think twice about offing him for financial gain, he was
a businessman after all.
From where he was, he could have taken a tube or bus and
been anywhere in London within the hour, he could visit his old
friend Martin, he too had changed his name but he went for an
American one, he liked the West Wing so he chose Martin. He
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lived in Enfield, which was north of London, he had said it was in
Middlesex, which meant it wasn’t London. Martin was fucking
crazy, he used to free base cocaine until he discovered crack, it
made him a little crazy but he managed to function pretty well on
it. He ran a couple of brothels and a ring of market traders who
specialised in knock off goods. They made a good living and he
was always good for a laugh, he could go to see him, but that
would be a long way to go, he was working on an important deal
and needed to be around in case Yuri came up with anything from
the Chinese.
He wanted to go somewhere that wasn’t too far, where else
was he guaranteed a welcome without any strings attached? He
maybe could go and see Yuri’s buddy in Camberwell. It was a
short cab ride away and there was always stuff going on. The
illegal casino wasn’t likely to be running at this time of day, but he
could score something and maybe get some sex, the girls that he
ran were mostly Ukrainians and Latvians, they were normally hot
and he didn’t have to worry about maintaining his reputation in
front of them. He was just a face from the old country, back when
it was just one big country, who tipped well and showered before
he climbed on. This appealed for a moment then Saffy entered his
thoughts again and he lost interest in anything sexual.
What was it she did to him, how could she hold him this way,
he couldn’t fuck at all, he tried to get into it but he just couldn’t
manage it, and when the girl asked if he was okay, laughing in her
head, if not to his face he lost it totally. He managed some sort of
release in the act of violence. It was close to orgasm, but different
somehow. With Saffy, he had felt both sensations, he would get off
on beating her up a bit, then fuck her until he reached his peak of
arousal, she was amazing, to look at and to be with. He couldn’t
put his finger on what it was about her, he had other girls who
were as pretty, she wasn’t unique, there were other girls with her
skin tone, similar body shape and height but she was a package he
could not duplicate, not yet anyway.
It was then that he hit on a plan for the rest of his day. A bit of
talent spotting would be fun and he might discover his next Mata
Hari. He needed to get another honey trap because he was deep
into it with some oil magnates and wanted a bit of leverage. Plan
decided on, off he went, the bars and coffee shops around Old
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Compton Street were always packed with pretty girls on the look
for a rich boyfriend. They would be getting more than they
bargained for in Vitaly he thought, he was cheerfully whistling to
himself as he wandered down Tottenham Court Road toward the
Theatre District.
Yuri had the hump, he was getting seriously pissed off with
Vitaly. He had managed to get rid of three girls in little over a
week, first the traitorous bitch Eva, then Saffron disappears and
now Valeria, he could cope with one every now and then, but this
was ludicrous, and hunting high and low for Saffy was pointless. If
he found her she would end up dead and he would have even more
work to do. Losing those two fucking bozos didn’t help either,
although there was a steady supply of replacements in waiting.
In Amsterdam, they were all desperate to get a foothold in
London, the drugs were harder to get hold of and therefore easier
to sell, problem was he had some difficult choices to make. If the
powers that be decided Vitaly was causing more harm than he was
worth, he might end up in the position of having to remove Vitaly
himself, which he’d gladly do if need be but he hoped it wouldn’t
come to that.
When they first met, Vitaly had seemed like the usual fuckwit
that they sent to Georgi. He used to sit in the bar and listen to
Georgi waffling about what he was planning. When he got the
right investment he was going to do this and then that. Yuri had
liked Georgi but he wasn’t a good earner, considering the potential
he had around him.
London was the criminal Nirvana of Western Europe, the city
had vices that just couldn’t be serviced, no one except maybe the
Chinese truly catered for everything and there was a gap in the
market that Georgi wasn’t filling.
When it happened, it was quick, they had arranged to meet a
wholesaler of some hooky gear, handbags and belts he said, so
they went to the dock in the old East End. When they got out of the
car to speak to their new contact, Yuri sussed straightaway it was
Vitaly in a cap and jacket. Georgi didn’t realise and just began
rattling away in Russian about quality merchandise and stuff, as
the pistol smacked into the side of his head he was completely
clueless, he scrabbled about on the floor for a moment then looked
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to Yuri for back up, but he had worked it out a lot quicker than
Georgi.
This was regime change and he needed to make a decision
very fast. Vitaly shot Georgi in his legs and then shoulders. The
old leader screamed like a woman as he begged for mercy. Yuri
saw then what he had missed before, Vitaly was a stone cold killer
and he enjoyed it, by the time he finally put Georgi out of his
misery, even Vitaly‘s own henchmen were uncomfortable with the
situation. With the job done, Yuri was in a precarious position, if
he didn’t swap allegiances he was most likely dead, but jump too
willingly and he may get the same result. With Georgi still warm,
he gave Vitaly as much of a pledge of allegiance as was required in
this world of theirs.
Yuri had been given more responsibility and use of Georgi’s
old flat, it was rent free, but a bit of a shithole. He managed to live
out his daily life away from home, he ate at the club with the girls
or in a restaurant with Vitaly. He used drugs he didn’t pay for, girls
were his to do with as he wished, he had even got a go at Saffron,
albeit against her will, but it had been good for him if not her.
Finally, he managed to score a regular piece for himself, a real
stunner in Eva. She was great, but disloyal. That wasn’t fair really,
she was staunchly loyal to Yuri, but this wasn’t enough to save her
once he had spoken to Vitaly about her. He felt shitty about how
things went but it was a matter of self-preservation, if he even
entertained the idea for a moment he would have been in an
untenable position. This was all history now and moaning about
Vitaly was useless, he would never change and unless it came from
above, Yuri’s role was to protect him when he could, and follow
his orders.
Now, he was sitting in a small greasy spoon café behind
Oxford Street, it was actually called the Greasy Spoon which
meant nothing to Yuri, but cracked up his English co-diners. Chia
Zo was on time, he always was, these Chinamen, it was all about
courtesy and punctuality he thought.
He was short, typical for his race, a little tubby and wellmanicured.
He smiled pleasantly as they shook hands. Yuri used
demonstrated his considerable size advantage by tightening the
handshake a bit too much and ensured he emphasised his strength.
The meeting was friendly and next to useless, as with all things
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these people they went slowly with, it felt like real work, a meeting
about a meeting. Yes, they would like things to improve and they
would be willing to utilise their resources to help find the girl if
this would be useful, but they wanted some concessions for
themselves in the meantime. Yuri already knew this was going to
be an arse ache but this was taking the biscuit, as the English said.
Vitaly had been drinking heavily all afternoon, he had been to
numerous coffee shops and bars looking for talent, he had seen
plenty of good looking women, he tried his spiel on a few of them
but was coming up short today. He used to find this easy, what had
changed?
He had showered today, Saffy had warned him he smelt
sometimes, she had been slapped for it, but he remembered it and
did what he could with deodorant and aftershave, it wasn’t that. He
had met girls from all over in this afternoon, Aussies, Irish, French
and some Russians. The Russians were wise to his patter, they
came from a place where the likes of Vitaly were an occupational
hazard of being attractive. Far from getting frustrated, he was
enjoying himself. He was knocking back Vodka every bar he went
in and knowing these people would run a mile if they knew who he
was and what he did, it made him feel powerful, a predator
wandering amongst his prey unsuspected. It was a buzz of sorts
and he had been missing that recently.
By the time he had reached the end of Piccadilly, it was past
eight in the evening and he was going to be late for his meeting,
they could wait, the drink had muddled his thinking and he no
longer cared what he was supposed to be doing. What was the
point of getting to his position if he couldn’t kick off and have an
afternoon of drinking and socialising in one of the world’s greatest
cities?
His phone started ringing, in his case, it really was an old
fashioned ring, he hated the musical tones people had, tacky in his
eyes.
“What do you want? Can’t you run things alone for a few
hours Yuri, you need me to hold your hand.”
He drew a few glances from fellow drinkers as he was
speaking quite loudly in Russian.
“Sorry boss, but your guests have arrived for dinner at the
restaurant, what do you want me to do, sit with them or put them at
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the bar while we wait for you? They aren’t happy you’re not here,
especially Karpov, he’s already moaned about respect and all that.”
Vitaly’s good mood vanished in an instant, business was
always getting in the way of life.
“Sit them down, don’t join them, and send a car to get me, I’m
at the Greencoat just off St James’s, I’ll wait outside for them.”
He looked around to see if anyone was listening to him, “Tell
Karpov, I had to go see about his special request, and send for one
of the girls. We’ll need to use one of them with,” he paused, he had
meant to speak her name but felt he shouldn’t, it would be
admitting she had impacted his day, “ well, we need a girl so pick
one who will be good for entertaining our friends, tell her she’ll be
well paid and nothing more okay?”
“Yes, boss, the cars on its way, Nicolai is coming for you
now, don’t worry I’ll sort things this end, see you soon.”
He cut off the call and this annoyed Vitaly, for a moment he
felt dismissed but this was the drink talking to him. Yuri would
never be so rude, not to his face anyway, he wouldn’t dare because
he knew how easily Vitaly could kill him. He was still laughing
about it to himself as he left the bar and stepped onto the smoky
area outside.
Karpov was rich, which in many cases meant very little to
Vitaly, he would be rich himself if he had used his earnings wisely,
and especially by the standards of Russia. In Tajikistan, he would
have been regarded as a billionaire comparatively, but Karpov was
beyond normal definition of wealth, his personal fortune was
higher than half the planets GDP, he could literally change an
economy overnight if he saw fit, which he certainly didn’t have
any intention of ever doing. He was an ascetic looking man, if one
took away the expensively tailored suits from Saville Row, you
could have mistaken him for a schoolteacher. His hairline receding
all the way back to his pate, his spectacles were rimless, no doubt
expensive but they still gave him that geeky look that educators
had, and he carried himself in much the same way.
Vitaly had people who did research on those he intended to do
business with, or looked at, and this man was impressive on paper,
if not in person. He had dived in very quickly when the Soviet
Union fell, taking control of a large swathe of the oil industry. He
had used military means where necessary and was rumoured to
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have a sizable private Army hidden away in the far reaches of
Northern Russia. Once in command of these vital resources, he
began to negotiate with the West for contracts. Bribes were handed
out and he even managed to gain a political office to legitimise his
position. He didn’t go as far as becoming a governor like others,
just a bit of minor government officialdom to look good on letter
heads etc. He garnered friendships with leading men in the FSB
and Department of Trade, growing steadily until he was beyond
the bounds of Russia and had become a truly international
phenomenon.
He had his finger in pies from as far away as Australia and
Brazil to China and the US, he had even survived an inquiry into
his dealings, it was a whitewash but it added to his reputation and
helped increase his kudos no end.
Now Vitaly was going to try and fleece him for some of his
fortune, it would be peanuts to one such as him, but it would make
Vitaly a pretty penny and also increase his standing with the
powers that be back in Amsterdam. Not that he worried about them
too often, he was good earner and they wouldn’t want to disrupt
anything by interfering, would they? His three guests had just had
their starters delivered as he sat down.
“Apologies gentlemen, I had business to attend to across town,
London traffic is unpredictable this time of day, I hope you have
been well looked after by Yuri, the waiter is to your liking?”
He smelt of drink but wasn’t aware, his words were slurred a
little but he had never spoken directly to any of these men, except
once on the phone with the PA, Gary Wainright. He was
unimpressive, of average height and build and he appeared
unremarkable, but he was unusual in this particular company, he
was from London originally. His qualities as a facilitator had
identified him as someone Karpov could use to his benefit and he
had emigrated over to Switzerland to act as his full time personal
assistant. Unknown to Vitaly, was Gary’s background in the
military, he had served in the regiment back in the 80’s before
doing his degree in business management, he was much more than
he appeared.
The third man was the manager of Karpov’s European arm, he
had been asked to join them as a matter of courtesy, he was similar
to Karpov in so much that he looked like an academic, short and
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slightly overweight. He wouldn’t have been out of place on any
college campus, with his ruddy cheeks and baldhead.
As Vitaly ordered some food for himself, Annya appeared and
joined them also. She was introduced to them all and she gave
them her best toothy smile, a hint of flirtation as she gave her hand
to each of the men in turn. Yuri had pointed out Karpov from the
entrance as he dropped her off, and she made sure to make eye
contact with him, letting her hand linger a little longer in his.
Vitaly was pleased with Yuri’s choice, he wouldn’t tell him
though. She was beautiful in a very conventional way, long blonde
hair, tall, legs that went on forever, shown off wonderfully in her
mini dress. She was busty and elegant and should have excited
Vitaly, but she didn’t, it wasn’t her, that’s all he could think about.
His guests were speaking in Russian and English as Annya
was Serbian, although oddly Wainright spoke a little of her mother
tongue and they chatted for a short while. Vitaly took this as just a
bit of showing off to the pretty lady and nothing more, he would
have been worried if he had been able to discern what they had
swapped in the short exchange. He asked her bluntly if she was
working an angle and she said she was in the sex trade but hadn’t
been told what tonight was about. She would be well paid was all
she knew, with this knowledge they continued their meal without
another word about it. Wainright was aware that something was
up, he wasn’t paid to be a bodyguard, they had these available
when required and London didn’t really worry the insurers enough
for them to insist he be accompanied there, but he had saved his
bosses bacon before with his training and was never really off duty
in these situations.
The meal was a pleasant one, as it should have been with a
two Michelin starred chef behind the pass; they talked about many
things. Annya loved the theatre so they discussed the many shows
that Karpov had seen, in some of the world’s greatest venues. As
usual, they talked about football, Wainright was staunch Chelsea
while Karpov was a Liverpool fan, he bemoaned their ownership
by Americans, a people he couldn’t abide, a hangover from the
cold war days, while their colleague, Barrinikov was a fervent
Spartak Moscow fan.
There was some minor banter between the men, which Vitaly
tried to join in on, he feigned Man Utd, although he knew next to
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nothing about the game other than what he learnt in the build-up to
the Olgenkov sting. He knew they were successful and very
popular worldwide, even Annya got in on the conversation. She
also supported Liverpool and she had met some of the players at a
party. Who she met, she wouldn’t say. It was part of the deal that
she didn’t reveal who she met at these parties. Wainright knew
what she meant straight off but it didn’t register with his two
colleagues.
The meal done, they had a few brandies, at an exorbitant cost,
and under Vitaly’s instructions retired back to the hotel to carry on
the pleasantries.
Yuri wasn’t with the cars as they arrived which annoyed
Vitaly, he was feeling the effects of his day spent drinking and was
hoping Yuri would carry on the festivities while he tried to sober
up, why wasn’t he there? There may have been some trauma at one
of the bars he guessed or some movement in the Saffy situation,
this piqued him, he would have called on his mobile in that case
surely.
Annya got into one of the cars with Karpov and Wainright;
Vitaly joined Barrinikov. Yuri had thought of everything but he
wasn’t there and this made Vitaly nervous and angry at the same
time.
Back at the hotel disaster struck, as they had arrived before
him, his driver had stopped to let some drunken youths cross which
slowed them down. They went straight up to Karpov’s suite, the
whole purpose of tonight was to get him on camera with Annya
and this was set up a few doors away from his rooms, what could
he do?
They might have thought it odd if he tried to divert them now
and he wasn’t in the best of condition for thinking on his feet.
There was nothing to be done there and then, so he smiled at the
concierge who had informed of the change and follow Barrinikov
into the lift. Yuri should have been here, he would have managed
to get him into the first car as the host and would have avoided this
mess. He would be having serious words with him, in fact he
wanted to have him beaten for this, but he knew he would have to
make do with some small victory at a later date. He was not likely
to get away with toughing him at the moment, and he knew way
too much. The thought struck him like a hammer blow, Yuri could
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e the straw that broke his camel’s back, he had pushed him too far
maybe with the Eva situation. What if he was having doubts and
wanted to get rid of him, Vitaly started panicking, sweating in the
cool air of the lift.
Barrinikov was grinning at something he had said, Vitaly
hadn’t heard a word so smiled and nodded, this was too much for
him to deal with right now, the sting had backfired and now he was
worried Yuri was against him. He would have to act quickly and
definitively if he was going to save his skin. As he sat on one of
the luxurious sofas in the Presidential suite, he took the glass
proffered and drank the champagne without being aware that’s
what it was, it’s expensive vintage wasted on him.
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Chapter Fourteen
As Tom sat in the coffee shop waiting for Mo, he thought back
on his previous day and night. He had arrived with Ricky at his
home, he expected it to be on one the many council estates that
were common in Kennington, but the Cab had stopped at a bus
stop on the main drag. He just assumed they would walk through
to the flats behind the big houses but no, Ricky walked up to the
steps of a huge house on the Kennington Road itself. These houses
were worth a fortune; he had passed them as a kid and seen the
posh people going in and out in their Barbour jackets and wellys
off to some country retreat he imagined. The steps up were next to
another set that descended to a basement entrance, which looked a
lot like Ellen's front door, with a huge gate and an intercom.
“That’s where Amber lives, she’s my girl, but she likes her
own space so she stays down there, if she’s in I’ll introduce you,
she’s amazing.”
He was clearly proud, but seemed unaware of the fact his
house was likely to impress Tom more. They went up the step and
he let them in, the hall was amazing, with oak lined walls and a
huge staircase at the end, with a kitchen visible to the side, he must
be kidding him, surely, this couldn’t belong to him. He said he was
an orphan, so no parents to live with and yes, Ben said he was rich
but that was a matter of perspective wasn’t it, this house was not
just for the wealthy but for the super-rich.
They had a bit of dinner, a pizza from the freezer and cracked
a couple of beers. Tom was tired but Ricky wanted to chat and he
didn’t want to let him down. Benedict had told him about Tom
many times. How he had gone away to fight for his country and
joined the Parachute regiment. He was full of questions about his
military experiences and as much as Tom would have liked to go
to bed, there was something about this young man he liked and he
was grateful to be staying so close to where he needed to be,
especially in such luxurious surroundings.
They chatted while the news played in the background on a
huge flat screen TV that was mounted on the wall. For all his
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wannabe street garb, Ricky lived in some style, not just wealth but
taste had been exercised in this home. Tom enquired as to who had
been in charge of the décor.
“My mate Sally is a trainee interior decorator and she wanted
to have a go, so I just let her loose on the place. It’s a bit shiny for
me but the magazine she sent to do photos was well impressed, and
I think she got a lot of work because of it, so I was just glad to
help. She didn’t charge too much either, so it was a win, win as
Ben says.”
Tom couldn’t quite work this lad out, he was big, about the
same size as himself and broad, he worked out by the looks of him.
He was handsome in a conventional way and he clearly had more
money than sense but he seemed to be out of place. If he had taken
him to a council flat and they’d eaten frozen pizzas he wouldn’t
have been surprised but this had thrown him totally.
His bedroom was huge, with a massive oak wardrobe along
one wall and a dressing table in front of the bay window, it was a
man’s room but still very stylish. The bed was a little soft for his
liking but it again was huge, with ducks down coverings and
pillows. Tom had felt a little sick after the beer and he needed to
use the bathroom before he tried to get some sleep, he also needed
water for his tablets. He was about to go out onto the landing to
find the nearest bathroom when he saw the mirror reflect back
from behind the partially closed door, he had assumed was a
cupboard. It was another very large room, this time an en suite
with a shower and a bath. He shook his head in disbelief; this place
was unbelievable.
The coffee shop was full to the brim and he had to order a
further coffee to justify him taking up the table he was using. It
was away from the entrance near the access to the client’s toilets.
Tom had his back to the wall with a good view of all the goings on
outside, this was another operational habit but it did him no harm
to be careful, and Mo would appreciate the relative seclusion of
this particular table.
He saw him walk by twice before he entered, he too was
following procedure even though this was technically just a social
coffee with an ex work colleague, but he wasn’t going to change
the habits of a lifetime. Habits that had kept him alive in a very
dangerous world he lived in. Mo or Morris as his mother called
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him, was half Scottish half Fijian, an exotic mix that allied to his
Oxbridge accent, confused most people who met him. He was of
average height, very slim with a dark complexion, which was often
mistaken as Arabian or Indian. Most people thought Mo short for
Mohammed. His hair whilst thick and dark where it lay was in
short supply and he favoured a hat when he went outside.
On this occasion, it was a knitted beany with earflaps, popular
with skiers; it suited the weather if not the wearer. They gave no
outward sign of recognition, Mo got his drink and then walked
over and sat down opposite Tom. They exchanged a nod of the
head, considering their past, this was a small low-key reunion, but
they were aware of the need to be inconspicuous and great big
hugs wouldn’t have been either of their style anyway.
“How you been mate? You look like shit warmed up if you
don’t mind me saying.”
Tom gave a wry smile, “Yeah, I do, actually, but fair
comment. I’m suffering a bit at night and the drugs they give me
make me a little spaced out, but not as bad as I should be feeling.”
He was smiling as he spoke, trying not to look done in by it all, “I
assume you’ve been told the whole prognosis, on the system as it
were.”
“Yeah, mate, was a bad bit of news, first losing Jules then
finding out about your situation as well, we lost three guys in a
month out there, not been a good start to the year at all.”
They both took the pause to look around them, aware of
anyone who might be earwigging. In this environment, it could just
be a nosey parker, but they both had experience of being the
listener and didn’t want to take any chances.
“It’s been a bit of a rush getting this together so you’ll have to
forgive me if there’s holes in it, we have quite an interest in this
Vitaly character.”
He indicated a large brown envelope he was holding, “The
FSB put us on to him a while ago but with everything that’s going
on on our Middle Eastern desks these days, he’s had no more than
a cat lick recon done. The stuff I have comes from Sharon Tyler.
You remember her as my partner in the Kosovo operation?” Tom
nodded, “She runs the Eastern European desk now and was happy
to pass it along. He seems to be below their radar as he’s not into
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anything political or anything to do with national security, busy
boy all them same though.”
Tom took the manila envelope he was offered and sat on it.
“Thanks mate, have you any idea about getting to him, is there
some contingency on record about him?”
Mo sipped his cappuccino, the froth sticking to his lip and
having to be licked off.
“To be honest no one’s ever been that bothered enough to
look into it, we have an address for his business’s and a list of
accomplices and the likes, details of suspected past indiscretions,
mainly in Moscow and Amsterdam.”
With most of what he needed to know in the envelope and the
risk of being overheard they changed subject.
“Did you ever get the skinny on what went down that night,
why Jules freaked out, the whereabouts of the X rays bodies?”
Mo leaned forward a touch, checking his surroundings again
as he did.
“We think we got the whereabouts of the graves and we’re
hoping to get in there and do some DNA matches on the remains
while they’re still fresh enough, but there have been loads of
theories as to what went down. If it wasn’t Jules, we would have
written it off as temporary insanity but he was solid through and
through.”
“Fucking right he was, there was nothing about this that
suggests he just made a choice and went for it.”
He too sipped on his coffee, it was bitter and he wished he’d
used another couple of sugars.
“He heard something, he didn’t just steam in either, he fucked
me off first, then went in, whatever it was he didn’t want me there,
and he knew he could rely on me so I don’t think it was for any
reason other than my safety, and he knew I wasn’t in any danger in
a fire fight.” Mo was in agreement, a woman had picked up her
mobile phone at the next table, which was a few feet away, so he
waited for her to start talking before he continued.
“My guess is there was something in that cave he was worried
about, either biological or otherwise and he wanted to avoid you
being exposed before he took it off of them. There were some
readings taken in the clean-up but the results are classified which
says it all without even digging any deeper don’t it.”
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Tom agreed, this made some sense, Jules was always liable to
be the noble martyr, it was just a question of it he’d ever get the
chance to act on it, and this sounded like his opportunity had
knocked.
“Listen, I can’t thank you enough for this mate, I won’t let on
any of this has come from you and I wouldn’t allow you to be
exposed, but I might need another favour. I have an idea but I may
need access to some, delicate material, say no if you want but can I
at least ring if it turns out I need to?”
Mo thought for a moment, he had risked his job on this, from a
technical point of view he’d broken no laws, the information
wasn’t in the national interest and even in his shit state, Tom was
covered by his own official secrets act mandate. But it wasn’t the
done thing and he would be seriously demoted at the least.
“I’ll agree you can ask, let’s leave it at that for now mate, no
promise, no pack drill yeah. “
Tom smiled, this wasn’t the actual saying but he knew what he
meant.
It should have taken Tom fifteen minutes to walk back to
Ricky’s house. Unbelievably he had given him a key. This made
no sense to Tom, yes Benedict had vouched for him, so sure he
could stay but how could he know what Tom was like? Ben knew
him as a teenager, a long time ago. He might be the world’s worst
thief for all Ricky knew, there were plenty of them in the military
just as there were in any walk of life, but he had trusted him right
away and although it was a nice thing to do, it made Tom worried
for the young lad.
The walk wasn’t too taxing, flat as a pancake all the way and
the streets were wide pavements so not too busy, it still taxed
Tom’s reserves though, and as he wandered past the police station,
he looked at the grocers over the road. It wouldn’t have been out of
place in any of the Middle Eastern cities he’d visited, fresh
produce arranged along the store front, adverts for mobile top ups
and cheap international calls plastered all over the glass and a
friendly looking shopkeeper standing watch over his products.
The pub on the corner was getting ready to open. The plants
hanging from the cornice were being watered by a pole system,
water flowing down the outside of the baskets back onto the
pavement below. It was plenty wide enough to avoid a soaking and
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Tom nodded his head in greeting to the young lady brandishing the
pole, she smiled back, it was like that in London, people
complained it was unfriendly and cold but they just didn’t go in for
unnecessary chatter. A wave or nod was enough for these busy
people. He walked along the edge of the park, he could see the
Imperial War Museum partially obscure by some huge sycamore
trees, he’d loved this place as a kid, running around all the tanks
and aircraft, they even had a tunnel system in the Vietnam war
section he would run in and out of.
His mum hated the place but realised he was interested in
something that was nominally educational at least, so she brought
him here most school holidays, good times he thought. He had a
sudden spasm brought on by a coughing fit and had to rest against
the fence for a moment, Ricky’s was less than five minutes from
here, he could manage that, then he could rest. He had stupidly left
the relieving inhaler in his gear but he knew exactly where it was
and wasn’t concerned at this point.
The three-minute walk took him closer to fifteen as he stopped
constantly to catch his breath. As he got to the steps up to the front
door he panicked, did he have the energy left to mount the ten or
so steps? It was then he realised that although he knew exactly
where the inhaler and other stuff was, he would be lucky to get to
it as it was on the second floor, considerably more than the ten
gentle steps he had just been in a flap about. There was nothing for
it but to try, he wasn’t sure what the effects of not taking anything
might be. Would he just collapse exhausted or could he slip into a
coma or worse die, he was ready to face death but not yet. Saffy
was far from safe and he hadn’t got close to settling his affairs
regarding Jules, this couldn’t be it. He had to just get there, by
hook or by crook; there was just no option of failure.
He managed the entrance steps very slowly and had to
struggle with the shakes as he tried to use the unfamiliar keys,
luckily there was just one Yale and one Chubb, so there wasn’t any
need to test which went where. He had trouble focusing on the
holes themselves and he fought himself for control of his hands.
Finally managing to get the door open, he crashed into the hall, the
door swinging shut behind him. He felt all the air rush out of him
as he landed, he knocked his forehead on the mosaic-tiled
vestibule, he was aware of the coolness of the floor and struggled
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against the desire to rest there, on the seductively cold floor. A few
minutes sleep would suffice, he knew it was the wrong thing to do,
but it was so damned tempting.
He was suddenly aware of movement in front of him, someone
was there, he was saved, if he could just explain where the
medication was he’d be fine.
His heart sank, he looked where he judged they were and he
saw Saffy standing there, he knew she wasn’t there so it must be a
mirage of sorts. She came forward and knelt beside him, he could
see her lips moving but the words were lost in the sound of his
lungs wheezing loudly as he gasped for air. This was it, the last
thing he’d see would be her, the girl he’d failed to rescue, how
could they do this? Whoever was up there, to tease him at his last
moment in the world? It was then he felt her hands on his forehead,
they were warm, he hadn’t expected that, it felt real, he could feel
the bump on his head more keenly when she touched it, was this
even possible?
Then he heard her, it sounded different to Saffy, this was a
London accent, all dropped aitches and tees, she was asking what
to do, what was wrong, she was flapping as much as he had been.
She pulled out a phone and was calling someone, an ambulance
maybe, how could this be, apparitions didn’t have phones did they,
he heard her say a name, what was it Dick? Dicky? No, it was
Ricky, she was speaking to Ricky. This made no sense at all, how
would she have known him? Saffy couldn’t have known this, he
was clearly in the midst of a dream of sorts, maybe this was how it
always ended, he smiled to himself, not so bad, the pain was gone
and he got to see her again even if it was meant as a torture of
sorts.
Ricky was shouting into the phone but Amber was completely
panicked, she couldn’t calm herself down enough to be useful.
“He’s got a bag upstairs, go and see if there’s anything in it.”
She was talking to Tom as he spoke, trying to get some sense
of what was wrong but he had passed out, or died she didn’t know
which.
“He’s not breathing Rick, he’s dead, he’s not breathing.”
Benedict, who was sitting on a fold out chair next to where
Ricky was standing, was piping up with his own advice, none of it
particularly useful at this stage.
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“Listen Amber, go to the front bedroom and check his things,
he might be diabetic or something, just look and see, and I’ll call
an ambulance, just get up there and look.”
He had cut the call at this point and she stared at Tom a
moment longer, then registered what Ricky had said. Diabetic,
yeah, that could be it couldn’t it, she left him, she should have
turned him onto his side she thought as she got to the room in
question, too late now, it was more important she find anything
that might help him. There was just a small holdall on the side with
a wash bag on the edge of the bed, the smaller bag had nothing of
note, shampoo, deodorant etc., so she pulled the holdall upside
down and emptied it onto the duvet cover. There was a bottle with
pills in it, and a couple of boxes with blister packs in them. She
was about to rush out, thinking she had everything, when she saw
the plastic inhaler. It was a dark maroon colour and blended with
the bed clothes for a moment, she grabbed this as well and rushed
down stairs, hoping against hope, he was still alive.
She turned him onto his side, into the recovery position, she
remembered this much from first aid training at brownies. God
only knew how long ago that was. He had a pulse, a very quick
one; this was good, wasn’t it? She was sure it was, your pulse
slowed down when you died didn’t it? She tried to rouse him, only
he knew what these drugs did and which would be able to help him
but he wasn’t coming round, why was she so stressed she thought,
she’d never seen this man before just now.
His crash landing had made her jump out of her skin. She
came up thinking Ricky had fallen. She imagined taking the piss
out of him for being a clumsy oaf, not even considering it wasn’t
him let alone a complete stranger, although there was something
familiar about him. She had been completely unaware of the
ambulance pulling up outside and jumped as the front door banged
with some urgency.
The medic rushed in and immediately started firing questions
at her, she could just about get out the fact she didn’t even know
his name when they noticed the medication, they snatched it out of
her hand and began reading, while the second of the two started to
apply a mask and check his vitals.
“This stuffs pretty heavy gear, mate; big time pain relief and
this inhaler’s not asthmatic. It’s not one that I’ve ever seen.”
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The medic beside Tom reached out and took the inhaler.
“Yeah, I’ve seen one of these, on a young guy a few years
back, it’s for serious lung complaints; he had cancer as far as I
remember.”
The first guy shook his head in frustration, “Well, we ain't
going to have any of this stuff on board are we? We can’t just stick
him on a nebuliser can we, not if it’s something worse, it won’t cut
it will it?”
They continued to try and revive him as they put through a
call about the meds, he was breathing with the help of the oxygen
and it was a judgement call as to whether to move him or try and
stay put to administer whatever it was he needed, if they had any.
Ricky called Amber to see what was happening. He handed Ben
over to a fellow stallholder to sort him out, and was en route. She
handed the phone over to the medic and he told them what he
knew, which was his name and the fact he was Army, yes, he had
been a bit tired yesterday but he never mentioned anything serious
to him. With everything they were likely to know on their sheets,
they decided it was best to get him up the road to St Thomas’s, it
was a five-minute journey and they were doing nothing where they
were.
The hospital managed to find something to relieve his
breathing problems and eventually he came around. Weak and
drained he managed to fill them in on what they needed to know.
He didn’t know the name of his consultant at The Royal Marsden
but they had enough detail to find him on their system.
Ricky had been there when he woke up, he’d been sitting in
vigil all the while he was there according to the nurse who brought
him a bedpan. With his condition under control and medication
administered accordingly, he was able to sit up and drink, he
couldn’t keep food down yet but that had been a problem for a
while now, so they saw no need to react to it. He sent Ricky to get
him some southern fried chicken and corn after a couple of days
and he managed to enjoy it for a while, before it came back up. He
cracked Ricky up with his colourful on the way up line. He didn’t
mention seeing Saffy, as he was embarrassed about it now, so
when Ricky brought Amber in to see him he was dumbstruck for a
moment.
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She wasn’t a dead ringer by any stretch, she was short, a little
darker skinned and her hair was pulled back tight into a pony tail,
but he could see how he’d been mistaken in his delirium.
“I owe you a debt of thanks I believe. Honestly if there is
anything I can do for you, just say the word.”
Ricky was beaming with pride as if it had been him being
thanked.
“She wants for nothing mate, ain't that right Amber? I sort out
whatever she needs, no matter what.
Tom was no body language expert, he’d done some courses in
the regiment for surveillance jobs, but he knew when someone’s
advances weren’t wanted.
“Whatever Rick, I think he was just being nice, he can’t really
do much, dying of cancer can he? Dick head.”
His expression didn’t change as he smiled at her.
“Yeah, I know, I was just telling him how sorted you were, in
case he was worried about it, don’t call me dickhead, Ams. It’s not
nice is it?”
Tom was pleased when they eventually left, it was clear Ricky
was in love but as clear as hell that it wasn’t reciprocated. Should
he tell him he wondered? What good would it do? She all but told
him a dozen times in their brief visit and he wasn’t getting it.
Tom woke up on the third day to find Benedict sitting next to
him. He was alone and seemed to be sleeping himself. It was about
four in the afternoon, he had taken to napping after lunch, so it was
starting to get a bit darker outside, spring was a way off yet. The
view from his room would have cost thousands a night in a hotel.
He was directly opposite the Houses of Parliament, with the
Thames all that separated them. There were a few pleasure boats
going past, he could hear their commentary as a faint squawking,
one of them was one of the submersible vehicles he had seen drive
past on his way to meet Mo. It was then he remembered he had
been carrying an envelope, and it was too important to be lost, he
hadn’t thought about much in the past couple of days and he
berated himself for taking his eye completely off the ball, where
was the phone he’d been carrying?
He needed to know and get things sorted fast. Benedict stirred
as Tom fidgeted, trying to see if there was anything on the locker
beside the bed, it was closed and locked, who had the key and was
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there anything in there of his? He needed to know now, he was
about to press the nurse call button on his remote control console,
it controlled the TV, radio and had a number of buttons for the
lighting etc. The big orange one was to call a nurse, it was meant
for emergencies but this felt pretty fucking urgent right then.
“Whassup son? You fussing away there, I can hear you getting
all het up, what’s wrong need the potty, boy?”
Ben sitting upright now leaned forward to better hear what he
thought was going on.
“Sorry mate, I just need to find my stuff, there was some
important things I had with me, I can’t lose them they’re really
important, mate.”
“More important than telling your oldest friend you gonna
die? Is that what you saying son, cos I would have thought that was
really important too, if I was you Tom, don’t you t’ink?”
He had dreaded this moment from getting out of the cab on
Brixton High Street. He knew it was coming, but he hoped to delay
it as long as possible, maybe entirely by passing before he had time
to get round to it. Ben looked upset, and he could understand why.
“I’m sorry, mate, I would have told you sooner rather than
later, honestly mate. I was so pleased to see you and meeting Ricky
and everything it just didn’t seem like the right time, honestly,
mate I just didn’t want to upset you, that’s all, I promise.”
Ben had tears in his eyes, they ran down his mahogany skin,
still smooth despite his seventy odd years.
“Yes, it would have upset me, boy. I love you like my own
and God knows I failed them kids, but I could have helped you.
We’d have known to look out for you,” he wiped his eyes as he
continued, “ Ricky would have been there for you, got the drugs
when you wanted them, saved all this hospital shit, just by saying
something then Tom, we could have helped.” He was imploring,
there was a tinge to his voice Tom had never heard, he loved the
old man as much as anyone barring Jules and Saffy, it hurt to cause
this man pain and anguish.
“What can I say Ben? I really thought it was the wrong time, I
would have stayed away if I could, rather than have you dealing
with this on top of your own shit.”
Ben sat quietly for a while, composing himself, Tom, unsure if
he would be intruding on some private moment by speaking just
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laid there, his urgency to find his things seemingly disbanded by
his oldest friend’s emotions.
“Tom, I wanted to tell you something important, something
you should have known long ago, but like you said the time wasn’t
right. When you came back to the market that day, it’s something
big Tom,” he laughed a little.
“You’re not gonna tell me you’re my dad are you mate.”
Ben tutted irritably, “Hush ya stupid mouth boy, this ain't no
time for no jokes, you dying boy, and you don’t know shit about
anything. How do you like Ricky? He a good boy ya reckon?”
This change in tack confused Tom entirely.
“What? Ricky? I don’t get it, where’s that come from? Yeah,
he’s a smashing lad but what’s that got to do with the price of
fish?”
“What do you know about your father Tom? What did Demi
say? Did she tell you who he was or anything, back then?”
This was heading down a very strange path for Tom but he
humoured him.
“Not a thing, mate, all I knew was when I joined up she wrote
dead on the form, we never spoke about it, maybe a normal kid
would have asked but I didn’t need a dad, I had her and then you.”
This made Ben smile with pride, yes, he had been like a father
to him in some ways, but it was nice to hear he thought so too.
“Well, I knew your mum before you were born, when she was
seeing your dad, I didn’t like the man, he was a damn fool of a
man, but she liked him and when she got pregnant she was
shocked when he told her to have an abortion. She told him to fuck
off, tough lady that one, she cuss him up good style and got on
with it.”
He licked his lips, there was a jug of water by the bed, Tom
was unattached for a change, so he rose and offered the cup to Ben,
he thanked him with a nod.
“Anyway, his name was Don, Don Head, he lived in one of
the estates off of Kennington Lane, he had a wife, that’s why he
wanted you gone, anyway he never knew you as far as I know, he
just pretended it never happen and carry on like before, blood claht
fool, he was a shit, no doubt about it.”
Tom was even more confused by this, so he knew him and he
was a bit of a cunt, did this really need to come out, especially
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now, he would have happily gone to his early grave without
knowing he was the progeny of an arsehole womaniser.
“Anyway he goes back to his wife and she died, something
like what killing you I t’ink, and he is widowed, he gets some
insurance money and manages to buy a shop, selling other people
shit, like antiques and shit, and he finds a young woman and
marries again.”
He took another sip of the water, so Tom took his opportunity
to interrupt.
“I don’t really care about any of this Ben, he sounds like a
right cunt and I was better off without him, if that’s what you’re
trying to say consider it done mate.”
Ben lifted his hand to quieten him down.
“Calm down boy, me not a fool, there’s stuff you do need to
know, at least I think so, not just for you, but the boy as well.”
Tom stopped himself from starting to interject again.
“What do you mean the boy, what fucking boy, me? Back then
you mean?”
“Hold up a minute. I’s getting there. Your dad had another
son, with his new wife. She had a boy and he called him Richard.
The bastard knew he would have people calling him Dick, just to
be funny, but he did it anyway. He gave that boy hell before he
was even walking, just as well he was a tough kid, he never let no
one get to him, not ever, even now he’s strong and gentle and let’s
no one fuck with him, ‘cept maybe that girl but that’s something he
needs to learn himself.”
It took a moment to sink in, Tom sat with his back supported
by pillows, the noise of a busy hospital in the background, a car
horn out on Westminster bridge, he was aware of all these things
as he tried to piece what he had heard into something he could
register.
“So this boy, this son, this Dick or whatever, are you saying
he’s my brother? That I’ve had a brother all this time and I never
knew?”
Ben looked sad, he hadn’t quite got it all, then the penny
dropped.
“Hang on, Richard, that’s what you said wasn’t it, that’s why
you wanted to know what I thought of Ricky, you’re saying he’s
my brother, is that it Ben?”
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The old man looked relieved as he nodded. He had kept this to
himself for years, even when he met Ricky and realised who he
was, he had never said a word. He liked the boy anyway but he felt
a duty to Tom, to look out for him, he turned out to be the best
thing in his life, but first and foremost, he was doing it for Tom.
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Chapter Fifteen
The week in the refuge had been hard for Saffy; there had
been a scuffle at the door one night, an abusive husband came to
reclaim his kids. It was nothing to do with her, but the idea that a
simple father and husband could find their partner in this place
frightened her, she knew Vitaly had access to resources. People
who would be on the lookout for her, the only comfort was that she
was well away from anywhere he would be looking. In all the time
they had been together, they never once mentioned Croydon, not in
passing or anything, she wasn’t sure she had even heard of it
before she came here.
Fiona had been true to her word and visited every day, she
made her feel special, as if this case meant something extra to her,
and it made Saffy feel good. It was probably just her way of
working, but it was a nice fiction, she told herself.
Now the time had come for Saffron to move on. Anne Marie
had called her into the admin room after breakfast to tell her Fiona
had phoned. There was a space opened up in a safe house and she
was next on the list, the details were a bit vague, all she knew was
it was out of London and she would be picked up later today, so be
ready.
She didn’t have much to pack, she hadn’t brought anything
with her, her washing stuff was all new and she only had a few
changes of clothes she had taken from the lost and found room. It
didn’t fit or suit her very well, but it was clean and did the job.
Only her underwear was new. A bulk buy from the local discount
clothing store, she had spent all money for that day, she got an
allowance each day because of the drugs, they felt if she had more
she might try and get a fix somewhere, on two packs of knickers
and some vest. She was lucky enough to get away without the need
for a bra, not something she had ever felt lucky about up until now,
but times had changed dramatically for her and now she celebrated
the little things as much as she could.
It was Fiona that turned up for her at about one thirty. She
hugged Anne Marie and thanked her for her care, she waved to
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some of the other women, most of them were new so didn’t care at
all what was going on for her. She’d felt the same when she arrived
and thought no worse of them for it. It turned out their destination
was Brighton, the Blackpool of the South Fiona told her proudly. It
was a bustling town with a big leisure industry based around the
famous pier and beach as well as a huge university, it was eclectic
and vibrant and she was sure Saffy would settle in, once the initial
shock wore off. Moving home is said to be one of the four most
traumatic things you can go through, and here was Saffy, in her
third new home in a year, nothing could compare to the trauma of
the first, but it was all relative and this would take some getting
used to.
The whole moving thing was exacerbated by the fact she knew
no one, and couldn’t get in touch with any friends from London, or
home in case they let slip, innocently or otherwise to Vitaly. This
was a strict rule that was very seriously enforced, if she let it slip
they would withdraw their assistance entirely, resources were so
stretched it was handled like triage, save the ones who are in with a
shout of surviving and leave the others to their fate.
Apart from chatting about Brighton’s many amenities and the
like, they spoke about having a baby. Saffy had warmed to the idea
over the week and once she had resolved the drug treatment issue,
she became more confident that she could do it, on her own as she
put it. What was left unsaid was the fact Fiona would be leaving
her in the care of another practitioner, in essence her exact
counterpart, but they both knew she was an exception rather than
the rule and the likelihood of getting someone anywhere near as
attentive, was slim to none.
She had managed to arrange for her benefits to be sorted. All
the forms and medical evidence was ready to just show the local
office and get things moving, in theory everything was sorted, but
they both knew it wouldn’t run as smoothly as it should.
The flat itself was on the second floor of a terraced house, she
had a shared front door with a small lobby with two more doors off
of it. Hers was the right hand one, a dreary grey colour but it
looked quite secure. Two locks and once opened a dead bolt easily
reached for extra security. Fiona showed her around, saying how
nice things were to get Saffy excited about the place. The rooms
were decent sizes, apart from the kitchen, which was a galley
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affair. There was a smallish oven and hob, a fridge freezer but no
room for a washing machine or other mod cons.
The furnishings were basic, an old G plan type suite in the
front room with a glass coffee table and TV cabinet, no TV, Fiona
said there was a British Heart Foundation shop nearby according to
the internet and they sold all sorts including TVs and music
centres. This was all there was in the front room. The bedroom at
the back of the house was a similar size to the lounge and had a
standard IKEA issue double bed and a bedside table and wardrobe
all sourced from the nation’s favourite Swedish import.
The bathroom was functional with a bath and basin. The taps
had a shower head attached, which pleased Saffy. The whole place
seemed to have been attacked by a Magnolia mad decorator with a
penchant for brown corduroy carpet, but at least it matched and
was nice and light. In all, she was as happy as she’d been in quite a
while.
The time came for Fiona to leave. She helped Saffy out by
driving to the local superstore to get some budget priced
accessories. A kettle and toaster for silly money, there was a cheap
set of dinner plates and the likes and cutlery going for a song. She
was made up to get everything she did for a lot less than the
hundred and ten pounds allocated by the charity that ran the house
she was moving into. The excess was hers to keep, so she did a bit
of a grocery shop while they were there. She declined to have a
loyalty card, she was still paranoid about Vitaly searching for her
and figured anywhere that her address was stored was a risk for
now anyway.
She had already decided on what she was going to use as her
name when asked, she had learnt from Tom and Dad that you kept
it similar to your own to aid memory, and this made sense right
now. Pregnant women had a reputation for being flaky and she
couldn’t risk accidently writing the wrong name on a store card or
an application form. She discussed it with Fiona who agreed her
name should be changed for the purpose of benefit and housing
allowance claims. This wasn’t unusual and could be achieved
easily enough for them to act on it straight away.
Shopping done, Fiona took her back to her place, just saying it
was weird but she liked the sound of it. Fiona had done all she
could for her at this point, and it was time for them to say goodbye.
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They hugged at the side of the road, Saffy held on tight to her and
sobbed at the thought of losing her from her life, but this was the
way things were done and Fiona promised to keep in touch and
back her up if anything went awry. She knew this was more than
she should be offering but she truly cared for Saffy and wanted to
make things as simple and uncomplicated as possible. She too shed
a tear but hid it as she climbed into the car, there was real emotion
there as she drove to the end of the road and saw Saffy standing in
the road waving furiously. She raised a hand but no more. She said
a little prayer for her, as her sat nav gave her directions back onto
the main London road. If only she had known that 70 or so miles
down this very road, was Saffy’s potential saviour, things never
worked out the way you want to and she hadn’t a clue who Tom
was let alone his mission.
Saffy fussed about the flat all night, cleaning and washing
floors, ensuring everything was as it would have been if her Mum
had been there. She rarely thought about her anymore, they had
fallen out after her affair had been exposed.
Dad had asked her to stay out of it, not to pick sides but it was
inevitable. Dad was a noble honest man who’s sense of duty was
unequalled by anyone she knew, and that included Tom. So, how
could her mum shit on him? On their marriage and for what? A
glorified tea boy at her oh so posh office. Where partners were
banned from firms do’s, to allow for the shenanigans that went on.
At first she had kept schtum, yes, she been a little aloof around
her but not too bad. She was already set up with her digs for her
first year at uni, so had a month tops at home to survive without
any incidents, she lasted a week. There had been a phone call that
Saffy had beaten her mum to answer, it wasn’t a big deal but she
was clearly not happy about it. There was a male voice on the other
end, he said hello then hung up. Saffy flipped out, she accused her
of trashing their marriage and treating her dad like a fool, he was
more of a man than anyone she might fall upon in her shitty office
job.
It was the kind of place where the company car was a status
symbol, they didn’t even pay for them so what was the big deal
about it. These people had no concept of duty and honour just
profits and loss. They even viewed the wars as balance sheets, if
we lost less than they did, we were winning and should be
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celebrating, cocks like this enraged her at the best of times and
now her mother was screwing one, oh the joys of middle aged
parents.
Sally had knocked on her door just after Fiona had left and
Saffy was looking tearful as she opened the door.
“Oh sweetheart, are you okay? I thought I’d wait for your
friend to leave before saying hi. I’m Sally and I just wanted to see
if you fancied a cuppa and a chat, you know, get to know each
other, you look like you could do with some company.”
Saffy sniffed a little and smiled weakly.
“Hi Sally, I’m” she paused for a second, this was the first time
she was going to lie about her name and she had to gird herself,
lying wasn’t a natural thing for her to do.
“Sandra, I’m fine, just a bit tearful. I had to say goodbye to a
really nice lady that’s all, I can’t come in right now, I’m in the
middle of unpacking.”
She didn’t even have a single box of possessions.
“But maybe tomorrow if that’s okay? If you’re not busy I
mean.”
Sally returned the smile in spades, her teeth were a mixture of
browns, yellows, and gold, not an orthodontist in her spare time
Saffy thought.
“No problem love, just knock if you need anything and we’ll
have a catch up tomorrow. I’ll hold you to that; you know that,
don’t you?”
She was smiling broadly as she spoke, clearly not embarrassed
by the condition of her teeth.
“Yeah, that’ll be great, I’ve gotta go Hun, speak to you in the
morning or something, yeah?”
In truth, she could probably have done with the distraction of
chatting about nothing to a friendly stranger, but she was
uncomfortable with her story and wanted more time to think it
through. She was Sandra from York and she was here to be closer
to her parents who lived in Worthing. Wherever that was, Fiona
said it was close enough to be true but not so close as you’d expect
to be seeing them every five minutes. She could cover her back by
going out all day and saying she’d met them in town for lunch etc.,
it was all very plausible but it was a lie and Saffy hadn’t had
anywhere near enough experience of doing it to be at ease with it.
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Her first night alone was strange, with no TV she couldn’t get
any news or watch the soaps, what would the miserable folks of
East London or Manchester be up to. This last year had become a
blur so these shows were no loss, there were however, a few things
she did like to watch, so she decided to invest in a TV as soon as
she could. The flat had special acoustically designed floors, which
were supposed to prevent neighbours dispute, and from the
downstairs neighbour, Sally’s point of view, they worked quite
well.
There wasn’t any noise caused by footsteps but Saffy could
hear her loud music and feel the thump of the bass as vibration in
her feet. It was way too early to complain. Sally seemed nice and
she didn’t want to arouse too much interest in herself in case a
question came up and someone suddenly noticed the mixed race
girl with a Leeds accent. Her sense of security was low and she
checked the locks and double-checked them before shoving the
one-inch thick steel bar into place.
Being alone felt odd, but she decided it was preferable to
having to watch the other girls at the refuge make excuses for their
partners. According to them, they couldn’t be held responsible for
their acts of emotional, physical and sexual violence they carried
out on them or their children, because they were stressed, drunk or
high on one drug or another. She had no such qualms about Vitaly,
he was pure evil and she knew although she had been naive and
stupid. That was the extent of her responsibility in this matter. She
had been duped and exploited for financial gain by a full time
criminal who had nothing redeeming for her to hang her hat on.
The first few days were spent getting things into some sort of
order. There was very little for her to do but she felt like it was a
rite of passage when you moved in to a new place. She used her
remaining funds to get a few little bits at the charity shop. She also
spied a TV in the shop Fiona recommended. It was £90, but she
figured she could save up for a few weeks and get it. She could
have put a deposit down but again she would have to leave her
name and address and her fears of someone getting hold of the
information was all encompassing.
By the end of the first week, she was happily pottering about,
popping down for coffee with Sally and enjoying adding to her
ruse. She kept the general details the same, first names of her
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parents and the like, she even upgraded Tom to her mother’s
brother, rather than explain how he was her uncle without being
actually related.
Sally wasn’t too nosey; she was happy with what she knew
and had experience of the kind of girls who lived upstairs,
damaged lasses, who needed some care and attention. She didn’t
mention to Saffy that the last girl had been found out by her ex and
had to move on under the cover of the night, no need to frighten
her was there?
With the whole introduction business out of the way, Sally had
just one thing to consider about “Sandra”, how much to let her
know about her little cottage industry thing she had going on.
Sally, apart from her obvious hippiness, was also into marijuana
big time. She started as a student and never really got off it, that
was over thirty-five years ago and it was not without its problem
over the years. She had suffered with poor mental health, hence her
being given the flat by another charity linked to the one Saffy had
been taken on by, her teeth were stained and she was always
stinking of the Herb, as Ben would have called it. The cost of
supplying herself with a constant stash was higher than ever, but
she was able to do so by selling it to the many students that had
their digs in the streets around where she lived. There was a lot of
competition as there always would be in a university town with as
cosmopolitan a populace as Brighton, and to some extent Hove
nearby, but she was strictly old school, and had avoided getting
into the super skunk and the likes. She was the connoisseur’s
dealer and she prided herself on this, and until recently, she just
sold to her regulars and made enough to keep her in weed and
cigarette papers with a few quid left over for a few antiques.
Recently this had changed as a couple of the New Year’s
intake had asked if she could get them any Ketamine. At first, she
had baulked at the suggestion until she mentioned it to a vet who
also used her regularly. He said he could get her a regular supply
for dirt cheap and they would split any profits, she wasn’t sure but
he was keen and she trusted him so now she was the “Go to” lady
for K-holers from miles around. She didn’t see Saffy as the kind of
girl who would be put off by a small time dealer but she had made
this mistake before while living in London and ended up with a
record as a dealer. She would play it by ear she guessed, the topic
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was bound to come up and being a good judge of character she
would be able to gauge her feelings and if necessary keep quiet on
the whole dealing front.
One problem she might have with this was the occasions, quite
a common occurrence, when the wrong bell was pressed, she
would certainly get pissed off by the late night callers and if she
didn’t know what the score was, might be inclined to call the
police. She may even be equipped with a panic button, some girls
in her situation had them, she knew this much. She resolved to try
and get around to it as soon as she could without pressing it, then if
need be, she could give her a little something by way of
compensation for any trouble the stoners of Brighton may cause in
the future.
Her chance came the next morning, Sandra had been to the
social to sort out her benefits and been given a cheque to tied her
over. Being a sensible lass, she spent it all on groceries. She had
struggled all the way from the local supermarket and was
exhausted by the time she made it to the little lobby they shared.
Sally was only too happy to assist in getting the heavy bags up the
stairs into the tiny kitchen and gratefully accepted the offer a cuppa
in payment.
“Should you be hauling loads of bags over a mile in your
condition love?”
Sally nodded at her stomach by way of inferring she was
pregnant.
“How did you know, I mean, how can you tell?”
Sally laughed, “I know a little show when I see one, you’re
like a rake from three sides and then there’s this little bump and a
pair of tits, which seem to be growing too, I might add.”
Saffy blushed, “I thought it wouldn’t show for ages, I didn’t
want everyone to know until I was ready. I’m going to a rehab
place and I don’t want the other addicts to think I was using while
carrying a baby, do you get what I mean?”
This shocked Sally a little, she seemed like a smart cookie not
the type to dabble in anything serious.
“I’m sure they won’t think anything of the sort. Wear a baggy
tee shirt and they’ll never notice; they probably have their own
problems anyway.” She was curious, so she continued, “ what are
you coming off if you don’t mind me asking love, tell me to
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ugger off if you like” Saffy had considered this moment, once she
realised she liked the weird old lady, who wasn’t as old as Saffy
thought. She knew the subject of her drug problem could come up,
the pregnancy was always going to become apparent but she had
no need to tell her, the reason she did was in the hope she might
lend her a supporting shoulder when the times got tougher.
“Nothing too drastic to be honest. One of them was called
Heaven, which is an expensive designer drug. It’s not even
available in most parts of the country, shouldn’t be too hard to stop
should it?” She bit her lip as she wondered whether to go on, “I did
a bit of Heroin as well, not often, I smoked it, I wasn’t injecting or
any of that stuff and speed every now and then, more now than
then to be honest.”
Sally gave a sad smile so she went on.
“I’m on a new program to get off if it all, but because of the
baby it’s harder than it needs to be. They can’t give me the same
stuff as they do to everyone, so I have to just suck it up as they say,
and get over it as quick as I can, you don’t hate me or anything do
you Sally? I’m not a bad person, I didn’t even touch anything until
I met my ex, it was him who got me started and I’ll never forgive
him for it.”
Sally shook her head sadly.
“Listen love, I’ve been around the block far too many times to
know that girls like you don’t do these things for no reason, you’re
clearly a smart girl and have your head screwed on, I couldn’t hate
you for anything love, it’s just not in my nature. I could hate the
bastards that get you girls into these situations, yeah, if I tried but
never you, love.”
Saffy had tears in her eyes as she hugged Sally, ignoring the
smell.
“Thanks Sally that means so much to hear that, it’s been hard
and I don’t want anyone else to hate me, I’m sure that everyone
else will, if they knew what I’d been doing just to pay for the
drugs, but knowing you don’t means everything right now it really
does.”
They had disengaged and Sally took a seat at the little white
table, her cup of tea cradled in her hands.
“There’s something I need to tell you as well love, it’s nothing
terrible or anything but you might notice a few things and if I don’t
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tell you right away, it might bother you and I wouldn’t want that to
happen, okay?”
Saffy nodded to show she did.
“I have what you might call a little business that I run from
downstairs and there’s a possibility you might meet some of my
customers from time to time. They’re all nice people, some of
them have really important jobs, most are just students mind but
some aren’t, anyway I sell a bit of weed every now and then, just
for pin money you understand. I’m not about to start rolling up in a
BMW anytime soon.” She laughed at her attempt at a joke, “Like I
said, it’s no big deal, I just wanted to give you a heads up if you
see strange people at the front door sometimes, I didn’t want you
worrying it was your fella sending them or anything like that.”
She looked Saffy in the eyes to gauge her reaction, she hadn’t
screamed the place down denouncing her as an evil peddler of
death yet, so she was hopeful.
“Listen, I kind of guessed what was going on by the fact these
young men were popping in, I see them from my front window and
at first I thought they might be relatives, but they’re not all white
are they?”
She put her hands on Sally’s to show she was genuinely okay
with it.
“I guessed something was going on, I don’t mind Sally, I
might have even been a client if it wasn’t for my condition,
although, I’ve never really liked pot, but as long as it’s just you
and bit of weed I’m fine with it.”
It was Sally’s turn to hug Saffy, she was a lovely girl she
thought, damn shame she ended up in a place like this hiding from
who knew what kind of bastard.
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Chapter Sixteen
Tom was kept in the hospital for another two nights, which
were like a torture in themselves. He had a private room, for no
reason other than he was there when it was empty, but the noise of
the hospital drove him crazy. The constant sound of the air
conditioning blasting out air that was either, too warm or too cold,
allied to the general hubbub of a busy medical ward meant
although he did sleep, nothing could have prevented it at this point,
his waking hours were a drain. It was as if he spent all his
resources on blotting things out, both audible and mental as it
happened. The news about Ricky had been a shock, obviously, not
just to him but Ricky as well. He had come in and hugged him, as
if they had been on a schmaltzy TV show about reunions or
something. He didn’t know how to react so just patted his back and
tried to get him to release the hug as quickly as possible. For some
reason he didn’t want to talk about it just yet, he accepted it had to
be discussed, but he wasn’t ready just yet. It was an inconvenience
at this time, he had the stuff with Saffy to sort didn’t he?
It was totally understandable that he would have to deal with
this stuff first, there was an urgency that couldn’t be ignored or set
aside for family stuff. He felt guilty because Ricky was proper
chuffed, he had always wanted a brother and to have a real life
hero in his family was everything he could have wished for. The
fact Tom was not long for this world had been missed thus far, and
he was sure it would hit him soon and then the recriminations
would begin, there would be some surely, you couldn’t just shrug
and accept the way of things without rancour could you?
His fears over his missing bits was quickly resolved when the
key to locker, which Ricky had, opened it up to reveal the envelope
and the phone, its charge had run out and Tom cursed himself for
not sorting this out sooner when he should have.
Ricky, who had a plethora of chargers in a drawer in the
kitchen, managed to match it up, and got it working again. Had he
missed any call? He assumed they would have gone straight
through to Ellen, without having a phone that worked she would
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have been unable to contact him. He did have another phone back
in his room at Ricky’s place, it was the one the other lads had the
number for, but he hadn’t given this to Ellen. She may have
already had it through Jules but he had told her to just use her own
number. She would find it easier in a crisis to remember this and
he didn’t want her randomly texting him for no reason. Now he
wasn’t so sure he’d made a good call on this one, for all he knew
Saffy may have been in touch or Yuri might have called again, he
wouldn’t know until he got back in touch with Ellen, and he had
other problems to sort at the moment.
Being bed ridden had one advantage and that was he could sit
and read without interruption, except at visiting time when Ricky
would rock up, usually with some fruit or a magazine in hand. He
was a thoughtful lad, Tom thought, he tried to cheer him up
whenever he came and kept him abreast of the goings on at the
market, with Ben etc. He was good company and he was kind of
proud of him, as if he had any right to be. As he was going to leave
this world without having procreated at least his blood would flow
on in future generations through Ricky’s family. He may have
been a complete wally at times but he was a good lad nonetheless.
With Ricky not due for a couple of hours at least so, Tom
finally ripped open the flap sealing the contents in, and produced a
paper clipped set of A4 sheets with printed text and photographs.
The first page was a rap sheet, there was a small thumbnail picture
of Vitaly, it was an old pic, he was shaven headed at the time and
looked quite mean and moody. Tom knew these photos were
useless as gauges of a person, his own mug shot was appalling, he
looked like a cross between Charlie Manson and Grossburger from
the stir crazy film.
It gave his date of birth as an approximation, he was about 26,
it detailed his father’s death in a turf war on the streets of Moscow
when he was five years old. There was some detail of his mother’s
death and then a social services report about placing him in a boy’s
home. His name had been different then, Vishtasb Rabiev, now he
was known as Vitaly Dudayev. There was no explanation on the
sheet as to why this was the case, he read on. He had been arrested
a few times in Moscow for minor drug dealing and extortion
offences, he served no time and when he left there were no
outstanding warrants.
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The second page was from the FSB, the Russian replacement
for the Soviet KGB, although slightly more akin to the FBI than
the CIA, they were an intelligence lead organisation dealing with
high-level crime.
Again, there was a mug shot, he was a bit older in this one and
a full head of black hair, there was the same detail about his origins
and mention of a sister who had been killed in an attack on an
institution of some kind. No further details were given and Tom
wasn’t too interested one way or another. Where this sheet differed
was the level of information, where before he had been seen as a
low level street thug working for the Chechens, this detailed a
number of interesting events.
He had been caught during a sting operation trying to stop the
supply of Heroin from Central Asia, in return for his release he had
agreed to inform on his cohorts. This hadn’t worked very well, the
information was low grade and led to no arrests that meant much,
he had played them, all the while maintaining he was playing ball.
He had progressed quite far in the organisation, becoming
instrumental in the protection rackets and was suspected of
involvement in a few high profile killings of mobsters and
politicians, from what Tom knew of Russian politics they meant
the same thing.
It was at about this point in his reading he noticed the
grammar was particularly poor for an official document, he then
realised this would have all been written in Russian and someone
had had to translate it all, there might be gaps in the language that
didn’t account for certain phrase. This distraction was typical of
what was going on in his head, he couldn’t focus in the way he had
always done, it was part of his strength that he would get things
easily and be able to explain them to others without any problems,
now his mind wandered without reason.
He had read the entire second sheet and most of third, there
were a few details of individual crimes, suspicions of collusion
with law enforcement officers, nothing very alarming for Tom. He
was clearly violent, but within his own circles, thus far.
Page four was much the same. It ended up with some details
of a turf war between the Chechens and native Russians, he had
been in some trouble with his employers down to a woman he had
assaulted. There was no detail of the assault but it worried him, this
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event had made him persona non grata with his bosses and he did
an about turn, contacting an undercover FSB agent about a
proposed deal. Another person entering the room he was calling
from interrupted him and nothing else was communicated to their
agent.
The next page detailed the outcome of his planned coup. He
had apparently not been put off by the failed attempt, and made a
deal further up the food chain. The whole thing was a
masterstroke, he managed to lure some leading figures in the
organisation to a meeting supposedly to share some vital
knowledge that would buy him a pardon from his misdemeanours.
They arrived en masse, with entourages in tow, where by the
Russians massacred them to a man. Details of the attack were thin
on the ground as their agents, of which there were a few, were
somehow frozen out of the operation. Vitaly disappeared from
Russia the following day, with no record of him leaving. In fact, he
had never owned a passport. This was the end of the FSB
paperwork, he was gone and therefore no longer their problem.
He next shows up in some Interpol documents. He was in
Amsterdam working for the Russians, again he was mid-level and
usually the muscle in anything required. He again was suspected of
some extortion and murder but without any real evidence that
could have been used in a trial. This was all detailed in a further
Interpol sheet, which was of more interest. For a start it appeared
that the attack on the young woman in Moscow had been sexual in
nature and resulted in her being wheel chair bound, added to this
he was suspected of involvement in getting eastern European girls
into Holland and using them as sex trade workers, either
voluntarily or under coercion.
He was supposedly using drugs to entice them in, using
violence to keep them, after a number of girls had turned up dead
in unlikely places, and before they could pin anything on him, he
had fled the coop.
He was off the radar for about six months when he was next
flagged up as being in London. He was now heading up another
Russian operation, his predecessor having been found in pieces
floating in a suitcase on a canal in North London. The reports were
now about his nightclubs, and his links to the porn industry, he was
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again suspected of forcing girls into the sex industry, with the
addition of internet porn to his already vast list of transgressions.
Tom was worried for Saffy already but this cranked it up to a
whole new level, he had killed before and used drugs as a tool in
his sick games. He knew Saffy was a smart girl, but this would
explain some of what had happened, he was adept at getting girls
into his clutches and once in, he was controlling them with threats
of violence, going as far as making examples of some of them.
There was a list of known associates attached and lo and
behold, top of the list was Yuri Kornonva. He had to be the man on
the other end of the phone. He was detailed as being a strong-arm
enforcer who had suddenly risen up the ranks on the death of his
previous boss. No guesses what happened there, Tom thought. He
read through some reports on efforts to get someone inside the
organisation but so far, no joy. It listed a number of known
addresses for the men involved, with a Bar Ruskie in Whitefield
Street London.
Tom didn’t know the street but he did know the location of the
second bar listed, The Pink Elephant was on Brewers Street, right
in the heart of Soho. There were a few other pieces of information
about some activity in the business world involving prominent
Russian businessmen. It was likely he was trying to blackmail
these men but nothing was forthcoming from their people so no
action could be taken. Tom was worried before he had read these
reports, now he was terrified for Saffy. She was a vulnerable girl in
the clutches of a consummate criminal who had no qualms about
killing if it suited his purposes. This Yuri was a frightening
character, as well. By the size of him, he would easily be able to
subdue a woman and would be likely to be the hammer that Vitaly
used to beat them over the head with.
Lying in the bed, struggling to go to and from the toilets
without the use of inhalers, how was he going to get into these
bastards and do some damage? More importantly he had to find
Saffy if they hadn’t already. His inadequacies were tearing him
apart, there was no one else he told himself, if it was going to get
done he would have to man up and get on with it. He was being
defeatist he told himself and the only obstruction to success was
his state of mind, his body may be diminished in strength and
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stamina but his mind was sharp. He had information and that in
itself was power wasn’t it?
The doctors had said he could go back to Ricky’s if he
promised to rest up. Take the meds and relax was their advice and
he smiled along with them.
“Yes doc, no probs, whatever you say sir, I’ll be a good
patient, no worries.”
It was all bullshit but he knew they had to say these things in
order to avoid litigation from outraged family members later on.
Ricky came right on time and was thrilled Tom would be
coming home with him, he had plans to make things easier for him.
Tom could sleep in the main lounge if he needed to, it was never
used as it was kept for best, whatever that meant and there was a
toilet off of the hall, alternatively he could go back to his room,
where the bathroom was closer and Ricky would install a DVD
player for him to watch while he recuperated.
This was more than Tom could handle at this point, his mind
racing with thoughts of this ogre controlling Saffy’s wellbeing.
Yuri sounded like a giant from kid’s stories who could crush them
with one hand. Tom was a confident guy in his old life, he had
been beaten up before obviously, no one was unbeatable and he
had handled some big guys before, but Yuri was huge and a tried
and tested thug.
Seeing Ricky, who now he thought about it, was a lot like
Tom physically; walking about full of vim and vigour made him
jealous. He would give anything for just few days of his old self.
He would steam into their lair and tear them apart, he would have
taken something with him to handle the big fella, a Taser was
always good in these situations, but alas, it wasn’t to be. He would
have to be content with planning for a few days until he could get
about unhindered, then with a plan in place he would act.
Information was the key to this whole thing and while he may
be lacking many of his usual talents, he was still able to get
information. A cripple could do that couldn’t they? Ricky had
hired a car to get Tom home, he could have easily afforded to run a
car but he said parking was a nightmare round where he lived, and
he would be replacing the windows on a weekly basis along with
any equipment he had laid out to put in it. It was just as cheap to
get cabs, this time though he wanted to be able to run Tom around.
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He had been told he would need to visit the Royal Marsden later in
the week and this was likely to be a regular thing, so having a car
for a few weeks made sense.
Secretly, Tom was pleased as he might need to get about at
short notice and having a vehicle would be a boon. This problem
had all started with over exertion by walking too far. The car was a
medium sized saloon, it was a 07 plate and still had that new car
smell they both agreed was a good thing. It had a CD player and
air conditioning and most importantly an automatic gearbox, Ricky
had never driven a regular car before. He confessed he hadn’t
passed a test either which surprised and frightened Tom. He had
acquired a fake licence a few years back and never gotten round to
taking the proper test, no need really without a car to run was
there?
The journey back was thankfully a short and easy one. Ricky
pulled up in the bus lane, which was a red route and helped Tom
up the steps and into the kitchen. He went outside to park the car
and spoke to a mate who had a space he wasn’t using at the back of
the pub over the road. Ricky seemed to have useful mates all over
the place, Tom thought.
After a cup of tea and some sandwiches, Ricky was something
of a surprise in the kitchen. He had loads of fresh produce and jars
of assorted sauces and pickles, he knocked up a lovely ham
sandwich with salad and even a bag of crisps on the side, it went
down very well. Tom rejected the offer of a cold beer, he wasn’t
sure if he should with the meds, if there was even the slightest
chance they could impair him he was staying well clear.
They chatted for a while mainly about Ben and his on-going
health issues, the eyes were the thin edge of wedge, he had some
rheumatism and arthritis in his ankles. Ricky was sure he was
going to give up the stall a while ago, he had guaranteed him an
income to replace the small amount he earned, but he was adamant
he wanted to carry on. He was the heart and soul of the market in
his eyes and the place would fall apart without him and his Bob
Marley music to keep things going. They both agreed it would be a
good thing if he slowed down completely, but also knew he was
unlikely to do so.
They talked around the subject of their shared father and
neither wanted to broach the subject just then. They had a while
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yet, and Tom was staying for as long as he needed, Ricky was
insistent on this. With Tom yawning, Ricky decided to take him up
to the more comfortable space of the bedroom. Amber had balled
him out about his plan for the lounge, quite rightly so, the lounge
had a sofa bed but it wasn’t anywhere near private or comfortable
enough for a recuperating cancer patient.
Tom was a big bloke and helping him up the stairs was a real
test for Ricky although he was at least a stone and a half-lighter
than he should have been. He was pleased they were of equal
height, just like proper brothers he thought. Once in the room he
handed him two remote controls, one for the TV and another for
the DVD player.
“There’s Sky Sports and stuff on the telly and I’ve got loads of
films to watch, just go to my room at the back and help yourself,
there’s a couple of dirty ones if you’re into that sort of thing, they
were left by my uncle who lived here before. “
He was embarrassed to have mentioned them at all, he didn’t
want Tom to think he was into that sort of stuff.
“Anyway, there’s like hundreds of action films and war films
and all sorts really, like I said, just go and help yourself.”
He was about to leave when he remembered something, “ I’ve
got all your tablets sorted into a holder that the chemist sold me,
it’s in days and times of the day and stuff, so you know what to
take when. It’s in the bathroom and I’ve left one of my old mobiles
by the bed, it’s free to call me so you can let me know if you need
anything without having to shout down, it’s there if you need it,
yeah.”
Tom smiled and nodded. “Thanks mate, I really appreciate
everything you have done for me, mate, putting me up and the
whole health problems thing, it means a lot.”
“Well, it’s what brothers do ain't it?”
Ricky smiled, he hadn’t said it out loud in Tom’s company
before, and he liked the feeling of it.
“I wouldn’t know mate, I didn’t have one till the other day did
I? Regardless Rick, you’re a diamond, I was here before you knew
me remember, and I don’t think it would have made the blindest
bit of difference, you seem like someone who would do this
anyway.”
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He blushed a bit at the compliment and walked out before
Tom could sense his embarrassment.
“Well whatever mate, call me if you need me, there’s only one
number on the phone, mine.”
Tom spent the rest of the evening in the bedroom; he took a
long hot bath and had a bit of Chinese takeaway that Ricky brought
up. He hadn’t wanted to call him like a servant in the old days so
he left the phone untouched. He did use Ellen's phone to call her
for a sit rep, she hadn’t heard from Yuri since their last encounter
and no word from Saffy either. He didn’t go into any detail about
what he’d been through health wise and just told her he had found
out some stuff, which would be useful in finding her, there was no
need to worry her with the facts. Christ knows he was frightened
enough for both of them right now.
He went and got a film from Ricky’s room, an old Clint
Eastwood western he had seen with his mum in the cinema at the
Elephant and Castle years ago. He remembered being so proud of
her as they went out, she was such an attractive woman who
always looked her best. Men would look as she went by and he
liked it because she was his mum.
He tried to get into the film, Ricky came up a couple times to
check if he needed anything, both times he took the chance to get a
fresh cup of tea and they had a quick chat. Ricky hadn’t seen the
film for ages either but didn’t want to intrude, so he went back to
watching a big football match on the big screen downstairs.
Tom must have dropped off at some point because one minute
Clint was riding a horse up the side of a mountain, the next thing
he knew, he was in a gunfight in a small town.
The night had set in and the curtains had been drawn while he
had been zoned out. The teacup was gone and so were the plates
and tray from his takeaway, he was a marvel that Ricky, attending
to his needs without him even being aware of it.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of
having a brother. He had been a lonely child at times but never
considered a sibling as being the answer. If he had chosen his
brother, he would have plumped for someone like Ricky, an open
honest lad who did whatever he could for others. The way he had
looked after Ben was admirable in itself but his reaction to Tom’s
situation had only served to emphasise what a good guy he was.
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He thought about Ricky’s life, he had it tough. Their dad was a
fully signed up arsehole from what he had been told and his mum
had passed away when he was eleven years old. The dad was
nowhere to be found at the time so he was sent here to live with his
mum’s older brother. He was, unusually for the time, openly gay
and living with a partner. Ricky didn’t seem to know what he did
exactly, it was in the creative media field was all he knew, but it
obviously paid well.
Because of the strange family situation and the ludicrous
name, he was teased a lot. Being a big lad he could have physically
acted on this but he chose not to, especially as he took a lot of stick
from the girls and he had seen his mum abused by their father and
would never imagine doing such a thing to any woman. Ben wasn’t
keen on his choice of girlfriend, Amber was a hard faced one. Tom
owed her big time though, so he didn’t get too involved in the
whys and wherefores, apparently she was a cheat and a liar but
Ricky refused to see anything in her but the goodness he believed
she exuded.
In all, Ricky had bucked the system and turned out a
thoroughly good guy. He had lost both his Uncle and his partner
while just out of school, both falling foul of the HIV epidemic. He
had inherited everything, including his father’s premises upon his
death, an event that went unremarked on by anyone. All this
wealth had meant nothing to him, he carried on helping Benedict,
stepping up to get things sorted out when his health began to fail
and this was where he found him; just plodding on helping out and
aspiring to nothing. With everything Tom knew, he felt he had an
ally in Ricky that could be useful, he wouldn’t expose him to any
danger that would be wrong, but he would make use of his
mobility and prodigious strength if he had need to.
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Chapter Seventeen
Yuri still hadn’t been in touch and this was pissing Vitaly off
big time. The whole evening had been an unmitigated disaster, the
outlay had been far too much to just write it off. The restaurant
alone had been on the dark side of a grand and the suite they had
set up for the night was another £800, all gone to waste unless they
managed to somehow get this back in track.
Annya had played her part wonderfully and he was pleased
with her contribution, she didn’t manage to get Karpov alone for
sex, but this wasn’t really of any interest now, without the cameras
it would have been a pointless exercise.
Barrinikov had tried to proposition her and she had looked to
Vitaly for direction, she would have obliged in a heartbeat if he
had given her the nod, but just to be bloody minded he said no. She
was going to be paid for the night anyway, but he didn’t see why
he should let the fat little fucker have a free fuck on him. Certainly
not after he polished off a small fortune in booze and gourmet
food.
Wainright had been really annoying him once they got to the
room, maybe it was just his attitude that had changed, but he got
the feeling he was deliberately trying to goad him, why he would
he? He had no idea. They were clueless as far as he knew, as to
why they had been out for the evening, the whole thing had been
set up as a charade, a courtesy by his bosses to try and court the
businessman, in an attempt to appear they wanted to become more
legitimate. This was never the plan, but he would have to play
along for now and hope for a second bite at the cherry.
Wainright was well pleased with his efforts this evening, he
hadn’t known what the score was or why they were even
entertaining this known hoodlum. He had agreed to the meeting if
he was allowed to be there. He had managed to get some details
from Annya, he made a note to reward her privately for her
candour, she was a working girl and a few hundred quid wouldn’t
go a miss. He was pleased he had read the situation perfectly as far
as he was concerned, he had ushered Karpov into the front car
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knowing he would then gain control of the situation at the hotel,
and assumed it would scupper any plans Vitaly had in mind.
He was feeling a little drunk and not a tiny bit smug about
things and he had enjoyed making barbed comments in both
English and Russian at Vitaly for the rest of the evening. The trip
wasn’t over yet and he would have to fill in the security detail
about his suspicions, his work was done, even though it wasn’t his
job technically to protect his boss anymore. He had left that life
behind by going into business, but he couldn’t change the habits of
a lifetime and would always make sure Karpov was taken care of,
in any way he could.
Barrinikov was starting to get on his nerves. His efforts to get
Annya alone in the bedroom were too blatant in the company of his
boss. Although he did note she had looked to Vitaly for guidance
on whether to go in with him or not, and he noted the scowl on the
Tajiks face as he shook his head gently.
The time was becoming an issue. They had a breakfast
meeting with a leading brokerage firm at 10:00, so they would
have to get rid of their unwelcome guest.
Dismissed, that’s what they would say to each other, he had
been dismissed like a fucking no body. Even Annya was still there,
patiently waiting for a taxi to arrive to take her back to the club
where an evening of unequalled luxury had been showered on her
for little or no effort. Being a good hostess was like water off a
ducks back for her and the lack of any sexual encounter was a
distinct bonus, and she wasn’t even aware of the prospective cash
bonus coming her way. Vitaly thought about waiting for her
downstairs, joining her at the club, make her earn some of her
wages this evening, but in truth he still had no urge to have her, not
any girl right now, except Saffy. This and his doubts about Yuri
were all encompassing at this moment. He had managed to get
even drunk as the evening had worn on and this had made him
make errors. He could see this clearly now, and Yuri not being
around had been a small part of things. He was usually able to
handle these things alone, just relying on Yuri to keep the girl up to
speed as it were, this wasn’t a failure of Yuri’s, he could see, but of
his own. The cost would come out of both their pockets as a
punishment for perceived failure, but he knew this was just his way
of getting a dig in.
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The journey back through the West End did nothing to calm
Vitaly down, he may have been able to see the fault in his own
actions, but he was still going to tear a strip off of that giant
Russian fool. As he got closer to the club, his temper was rising
and he knew he would have to control it or face the real possibility
of setting Yuri against him. It was a tough call, he wanted to push
the point that he hadn’t done as expected and may have cost them
the entire deal, but he also knew that Yuri could, if handled
improperly turn out to be a big problem. He was craving a buzz to
get rid of his foul mood, this is when he needed Saffy, he would
take a hit of something, usually heroin, but it could be almost
anything that was available and engage in whatever he had in
mind. He would sometimes feel the need to lavish affection on her,
to make love to her as a partner, other times, more often, he wanted
to dominate her, treat her like a piece of meat. The way those
bastards had done to his little sister all that time ago, of course he
never saw the similarity of the situation, he would have been
disgusted to think he was no better than the men he had killed that
night.
Yuri wasn’t at the Pink Elephant or the Bar Ruskie apparently
according to the staff on duty. He had come back to get Annya and
not been seen since. He had Mikhail with him, that was as much as
anyone knew at that point. He tried his mobile for the tenth or
fifteenth time but it was off, or at the very least out of signal range,
the distinction was important, one was wilful and suspicious, the
other just bad luck.
Vitaly had already made up his mind, which he believed it
was. The bar was full of middle-aged office workers and younger
men who were most likely going on to a club and would meet here
for a quick couple and a chance to ogle the waitresses. He wasn’t
even deriving any pleasure from the fact he was ripping all these
people off. The beer they drank was the cheapest he could find, the
spirits were all generic with brand labels attached in the back
room, the champagne was Spanish, not even Cava, just a fizzy
wine that he chilled so low it didn’t matter, because the clients in
this bar had the discernment of a wild boar.
As he tried Yuri again, he tried to remember which one
Mikhail was, he was new to the organisation, the London end of
things anyway, but there were a few new members sent over from
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Amsterdam by the big bosses. Were they spying on him with these
heavies he was having foisted onto him? It was a Russian national
sport, spying, and he would have been doing the same to them in
their position but the logic of it was lost at this time. It was an
insult. Mikhail, yes, he remembered now, he was another of the
Yuri style heavies he always ended up with. It was no wonder he
couldn’t remember which was which, they were all big, heavily
muscled and tattooed. Yuri stood out because he was so much
bigger but in every other way, they seemed to be the same. Mikhail
was the one who had gone to Leeds with the two that were
missing, he had waited for them in the van and they never arrived.
When he heard a siren, he panicked and came back to London
alone, he wasn’t reliable in Vitaly’s eyes but Yuri seemed to like
him all the same, was there more to it he wondered?
He got one of the other lads to try Mikhail’s number and he
got straight through. He was sitting in a car outside a bar in
Croydon, which apparently was in outer London. He had been
sitting waiting for Yuri for some time and was a little concerned
after the Leeds debacle. He didn’t want to return to base having
lost another comrade, but Yuri had told him to sit tight and this
was what he was doing. Vitaly called him back himself after being
told of the contact, he tried to sound uninterested, just checking in
with him but he tried to get some details of what was going down
through him. No, he hadn’t known where they were going, they
had been en route to the restaurant with some class A’s when Yuri
took a call. When this ended he got Mikhail to change direction,
guiding him through the depths of Southwest London out to
Croydon. Yes, Yuri seemed to know exactly where they were
going and he didn’t seem concerned by anything in the call, he had
been speaking English so Mikhail hadn’t really understood too
much. Vitaly was very interested in why he had been made to wait
outside. Yuri was a careful man and didn’t usually take risks so
why go anywhere single-handed when he didn’t have to? All of
this worried Vitaly even more. This was out of character, but also
blatant. He must have known his failure to appear back at the
restaurant was going to attract questions? That Mikhail wasn’t
going to keep their trip a secret. If he wasn’t bothering to hide his
manoeuvres maybe he was closer to acting than Vitaly had feared.
This could be the start of something and he was looking now at his
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entourage, they were all Yuri’s boys, he couldn’t trust any of them
right now.
Mikhail had been left mid-sentence by Vitaly cutting him off,
worried that he was just stalling for time, distracting him from his
surroundings in an effort to allow one of the others to get close to
him, he was sweating and the alcohol had given him a pounding
head ache to boot.
He sat in a corner booth in his own bar, or rather the bar he
was defacto owner of, crapping himself that he was about to be
offed by his own crew. These hired thugs who all seemed to have
been associated to Yuri somehow were all around him. Were they
really there for his protection? How could he have been so blind to
the situation? How did he let all these men into his circle without
taking time to test their loyalty to him? He had just about written
off his chances of surviving the next few hours when his mobile
started to ring, it was Yuri, it didn’t say his name, he used fake
names for contacts in case he was ever arrested with his phone on
him, it said George but he knew who it was alright.
“Hi boss, Mikhail says you’ve been trying to get me. I’m sorry
but I had to turn the phone off as my source is very paranoid about
them.”
“For fucks sake Yuri, where the hell were you, you knew how
important this job was and you just up and fuck off half way
through, it all went to shit because of you.”
His voice was raised and he fought to control himself.
“What was so important you had to leave and where the fuck
is Croydon anyway?”
He heard Yuri direct Mikhail around a junction then he came
back on, “I’m sorry boss, I got a call from one of our people that
he may have seen Saffron, he wanted to be paid and wouldn’t
speak over the phone, I thought it was a priority so I went with it,
was I wrong? You did say put everything into finding her, right?”
Vitaly’s head span, could this be happening, he had given up
hope earlier today but here was news, he didn’t have any of the
details yet but it was a good thing.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right my friend, this is more
important. I’m sorry for being so harsh with you. You were right to
go and meet this man, who was it?”
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“He’s an ex dealer of ours who used to run a place in
Streatham, he’s trying to get off the stuff so he was at a clinic the
other day, he noticed her because she was so tall and good looking.
He was going to try and talk to her but she was called in to see his
counsellor, he saw the picture we sent out in the email and called
me.”
He gave Mikhail some more direction, “like I said he’s trying
to get off the drugs and is very paranoid so he wanted me to come
to him, and it’s round the corner from where he saw her, so it
served my purposes to come here.”
Vitaly was made up, this made perfect sense, she wasn’t a true
addict, she never chose to do the gear, it was logical she would be
trying to get help coming off. He might not have thought of
Croydon, wherever that was, but he should have been on the ball
with the drugs connection. All thoughts of the conspiracy fled him
as he got himself excited by the chance they could get her back,
and soon.
When he finally met up with Yuri the next morning, well
barely morning, it was half eleven, he was happier than he had
been for days. He had gone back to his flat and smoked some
heroin, it wasn’t a popular means of taking it anymore, but he had
started doing it this way in Holland and stayed with it. He was told
that in London, it was called chasing the dragon, he liked that, it
sounded somehow cooler than it was. He was still shrugging off
the effects as he walked into the coffee shop, seeing Yuri sitting by
the rear entrance he wandered over. The staff in here were
Russians and he ordered his espresso as he sat down, the dim
looking girl who worked here just nodded and turned away, she
was lucky, if she had been a looker she would most likely have
ended up in Vitaly’s clutches. As it was she was plain and
uninteresting and perfect for a coffee shop.
Yuri was wearing sunglasses although it was a pretty murky
day, maybe he too had been chasing dragons, no, he thought, Yuri
was into weed maybe, but nothing else as far as he knew, he was
just a poser.
“Hi Boss, you seem good today, my news make you happy
yes?”
For some reason he had spoken in English, this annoyed
Vitaly at first then he realised the clientele would probably be
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more likely to speak his mother tongue and Yuri was wise to
switch to English in this instance.
“Yeah, I’m good today my friend, you have cheered me up,
very good news I think, yes?”
The girl behind the counter tinkered with the machine, she
appeared to have just been introduced to the thing, which was not
the case, she had been here for a few months but still she struggled
with it. No one else seemed to paying them any attention so Vitaly
felt safe to talk.
“Where is this place she is getting treatment? Is it in this
Croydon place or nearby maybe? You say you’ve seen it, yes?”
Yuri eyed the girl as she approached with the tiny cup, he
waited for her to put it down and walk away before answering.
“Yes, I looked last night so I wouldn’t get lost when I went
back, it’s just a place for doctors. Karl, the guy who told me he’d
seen her, says it used by junkies, they change needles and stuff and
get counselled, I don’t know what it means, but I think it’s just
talking about things. So anyway she was there last Thursday, he
remembers her very well, she’s very beautiful.”
He knew this was true but he was annoyed to be told that this
Karl had looked at her and had these thoughts. It was crazy to think
like this. He had forced her to fuck numerous men but that was
business and this was different somehow, he had never been
possessive about a girl before but somehow she had gotten into his
head and was fucking it up for him. This had to stop or he would
go mad, he was losing his control over things as it was.
They discussed their plans for watching the clinic. It would
have to be Yuri who was on watch, as he knew her best and was
best placed to remove her with the least fuss. They didn’t want
some nosy parker calling the police as they took her off did they?
This served two purposes for Vitaly; it got the right man on
the spot and also kept Yuri away from the others. He felt slightly
silly now, that he’d been so sure he was under threat but it served
as a warning against making assumptions regarding the loyalty of
his men. He would start to speak to them and weed out any he
wasn’t happy with, they could be sent up north to help some of his
comrades in Manchester and Liverpool. They didn’t need to know
they were under suspicion, and his bosses would be glad to send
some more men over. There was always too many of them sitting
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about doing not enough. In London, they would have to earn their
corn as it were.
They also discussed the events of the previous evening, the
failure of their plan with Karpov, this wouldn’t go down well with
the big wigs and they had to try another tack. This was a priority as
he was in town for another day at the most according to the
concierge in the hotel. They went through a few scenarios, trying
to come up with a solution and quick. Vitaly wasn’t keen on letting
Yuri in on the planning but he was struggling on his own and he
needed to hear somebody else’s ideas, to get his own creative
juices flowing. In the end they had nothing of use and he was left
to work on it himself, as Yuri was off to take first watch at the
clinic.
Wainright had sat in on the breakfast meeting with the hedge
fund managers, they were keen to sell Karpov their products and
also showcase their star performer in the markets. It had been a
boring affair, his boss wasn’t likely to get involved in anything in
the UK right now, the recession was coming and he wanted to use
risk adverse strategies. He was looking to Australia for the time
being, as they seemed to be bucking the trend for now. He did
however enjoy sitting with these Oxbridge graduates from rich
families who were begging at his feet for investment, he, a son of a
lowly bookkeeper from Kaliningrad.
The conversation with the security adviser went well, they had
been alerted to Dudayev’s activities and wanted to post a man with
the boss just for safety sake. They knew Gary would be more than
capable of nullifying any physical threat, even if he was a bit old
for this sort of thing, he was still very fit and a regular competitor
in Tae Kwon Do. But it wasn’t really what he was there for, and
they would feel more comfortable if their boss and his right hand
man were properly protected, even if they didn’t really know what
the threat could be at this point.
Vitaly had been a charming host the night before but there was
definitely something going on. The pretence of them spending a
fortune to entertain a fellow countryman just as a courtesy didn’t
sit well in the first place, and he had advised against it. When his
boss said he was interested in the idea of a gangster courting him,
Gary had agreed to it on the proviso that he would be there, which
turned out to be the best thing all round.
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This morning he had bribed the girl on the reception into
revealing that there had been a suite a few doors along that was
booked with cash by Dudayev’s flunky the day before. He had
been in the room most of the afternoon but hadn’t returned in the
evening. Someone had come in first thing for an hour or so, and
then gone. The maid said the room was slightly roughed up but the
beds were untouched.
It was, as he was trying to decipher the events into some sort
of order that his business phone rang. He was a buffer for his boss
and any calls for him had to go through Wainright first.
“Mr Karpov, I’m so glad to get you, I wanted to apologise for
leaving early last night and ask you to meet for drinks later
maybe.”
Gary looked at the number but it was blocked.
“I’m sorry, this is Gary Wainright, Mr Karpov is engaged in a
meeting right now, is this Mr Dudayev?”
“Please, call me Vitaly, yes, this is you Gary? Nice to speak to
you also. I just wanted to have a last drink with your boss before
he sets off for home. I think maybe Switzerland is not as exciting
as London and maybe he like to see some of the more interesting
sites before he leaves, yes?”
This was out of the question, but he knew better than to just
brush him off, it wasn’t the done thing amongst these Russians,
even the immigrant scum as Karpov called them, they had a code
of conduct which required unscrupulous manners at all times.
“I’m sure Mr Karpov would have loved to do such a thing my
friend, but he is booked up all day and the private jet has to leave
on time or we lose our slot.”
He smiled to himself, “Maybe when he is next in town we can
arrange something between you. I know he thoroughly enjoyed
himself last night, I’ve got to go now Vitaly, but thanks again for
the invite, see you next time we come to London, okay?”
He disconnected straight away not giving him a chance to
appeal or even say goodbye.
This exchange put Vitaly into a whole new stratum of angry,
this English fool was not Karpov, no true man had someone else to
speak for him, to turn down invitations, not a Russian man
anyway. He fumed for a few minutes then set about planning how
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he would deal with this spineless lackey, he had been impressed by
Annya and maybe he could use her as a way to get in.
He suspected he was gay in the beginning, well-groomed
Englishmen were always gay weren’t they, even David Beckham
was gay, just because he was married and had children, he was gay
as far as Vitaly was concerned. Too interested in looking good and
allowing his wife to cavort half naked in magazines, it wasn’t even
a question in his mind.
They had a jet booked, he knew this from their conversation
and they would need to get there somehow, he would find out
whom they used for their cars and then spend a few pounds finding
out their itinerary. He wasn’t sure what he had in mind but he was
set on doing something to ruin this Wainright’s day, possibly his
life if he could manage it. As he sought the information he required
he smiled as he formulated a very good plan, this might be one of
those red-letter days he had heard about, if he could get what he
wanted in place quickly enough. Karpov was unaware of the phone
call, he would have agreed entirely with Gary’s decision, but he
was not to know that the annoying little immigrant would cause
him so much trouble, just because his aide hadn’t been polite
enough for his liking.
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Chapter Eighteen
Tom was feeling a little more like his old self this morning. He
had gotten used to lying in, something he hadn’t done since he was
a fifteen year old and as much as he enjoyed it, he didn’t like what
it implied in his head. It was also a serious waste of precious time.
Apart from his now urgent mission, he also had to get to know
Ricky better. The time spent with him became precious to him and
he was surprised to find he was a little jealous of the time he spent
with Benedict. It would have been normal if it was Ben he was
jealous about, but no, it was losing the time with Ricky.
He used the time he was immobile to sort some other stuff, he
contacted his mums old solicitor to arrange for his passing, he had
to sort out a will or the state would be in a for a bumper payday.
He had done enough for Queen and country, he didn’t want to help
fund the next rake of new recruits to fall in front of Afghani IEDs.
He used Ricky’s very high spec PC to surf the net for things
he might find useful, he found Ricky to be very useful in some of
this work. He had special programs to avoid firewalls and
password logins, he was bemused by this young man, just as he
thought he had the measure of him, he did or said something that
created a whole new idea of what was going on with him.
He had broached the subject of Amber, just to see what the
real score was, he had seen her a couple of times when they ate and
she was anything but the doting girlfriend. She was rude and
dismissive to and about him but he was oblivious. Tom asked a
few probing questions as gently as he could but he met a wall of
silence, he wasn’t prepared to go there, she was great and yes, she
could be cruel but she was also amazing and lovely and no one
could convince him otherwise.
With the strength to move about, Tom did a bit of research on
the bars he would have to visit to find this Vitaly, he needed to be
in possession of as much knowledge as was available. The secret
of taking on a stronger better equipped foe was to ensure your
information was better than theirs, lead them a merry dance intel
wise, and use your superior skills and intelligence to bring about a
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situation where they couldn’t bring their obvious strengths to bear.
He was able to access the website for both bars, not linked in any
way he noted, usually sister businesses would have links to each
other, to use the opportunity to promote the other and get each
other business , but not in this case. It was as if they didn’t know
the other business existed and this was interesting in itself.
The Pink Elephant website had a few links to some porn sites
and sex shops. Some of the links were in Cyrillic’s and he
suspected he would find an all too familiar set of pictures if he
chose to pay the subscription, although Ricky was sure he could
access it without paying for anything, Tom declined the offer. It
was during this conversation that Ricky asked what was a perfectly
pertinent question, “What the fuck was going on?”
Tom was reticent at first, he didn’t like the idea of anyone else
knowing about Saffy’s predicament, he was ashamed and
embarrassed but Ricky wasn’t like most people, and he took a
chance on his reactions. After he had gone through the whole sorry
tale, including the operation in Afghanistan, Ricky was suitably
outraged by events and offered to assist in any way possible. He
was talking about getting “shooters” and all sorts, most of which
Tom thought was bull, but he simply declined the offer, although
he could do with someone to run him around. He needed to get
some stuff and also visit the bars to try and get eyes on the target,
this technical jargon had Ricky on cloud nine. He was so excited
by the idea that Tom, wrongly, thought he was losing sight of the
fact that this was a serious situation.
Toms had an idea for dealing with Vitaly and more
importantly, Yuri. He judged Yuri as the highest risk factor in this
venture, purely because of the size of him and the fact he had been
in touch, so he was obviously involved quite seriously.
They first visited an ironmonger that was a five minutes’ walk
away. Ricky insisted Tom let him drive, they could park right
outside for a while as the red route had spaces especially for
customers. He agreed but felt stupid being carted around such short
distances. The store was an old one that had been on the site for
generations, they used to be the old-fashioned type of
establishment, selling everything by weight to local builders,
factories and small businesses. They had moved with the times as
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much as the space allowed and now had pre-packaged stuff, nails,
nuts and bolts as well as newer stuff like power tools and hard hats.
The opening of a builder’s warehouse further along
Kennington Lane had been a near disaster for the family who
owned the place, but they managed to survive by gaining trade
accounts with a few choice contractors. The busy junction they
occupied meant that they had a decent passing trade, as anyone
going into the West End via Lambeth or Westminster Bridge
would pass by and it was the last chance to get materials at a
sensible price. The few hardware shops north of the river were
extortionately priced. Ricky was unsure of what they, as a covert
surveillance team, which is how he preferred to think of their
activities, would be using the 1kg bag of 10mm nuts and the coach
bolts for? After all, they weren’t the A Team who would build
anything they imagined with a blow torch and a few screws. He
didn’t ask at the time and by the time he felt it was appropriate to
ask questions, so many things had happened he forgot where he
wanted to start.
They went from shop to factory to trade counter picking up
things as they shopped. Ricky offered to pay, but Tom told him he
had it well covered and didn’t want to spend Ricky’s money when
he was allowing him to stay rent free and doing so much to help.
There was no obvious pattern to their purchases, the bolts were
added to the small electronics set, a few odd looking batteries, a
roll of thin electrical wire, reams of insulation tape in different
colours, and a few things Ricky didn’t have a clue about. They
spent going on for five hundred pounds by the end of the morning,
and as they sat in a café in Vauxhall, Ricky tried to get a few
answers as to what they were buying this stuff for. Tom was very
cagey and seemed uncomfortable with the whole thing. He just
made Ricky promise to keep the contents of their newly purchased
tool bag to himself, under pain of death, which seemed a bit farfetched.
“I get the radio bits and pieces and maybe even the tape and
wires, the little kit of connectors and stuff is confusing me and the
nuts and stuff make no sense. The bolts won’t even fit them and
there’s ton’s more nuts than bolts.”
He was shaking his head to emphasise his confusion.
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“You can tell me what’s going on Tom, I might be able to
help, I’ve already put out a few feelers amongst my own
connections. I had the old picture of Saffron and sent it via email to
some trusted people, if they see her we’ll hear about it.”
Tom looked a little worried and Ricky wanted to reassure him
he wasn’t doing anything to risk Saffy’s safety.
“The guys I know won’t speak to anyone they shouldn’t. My
internet connection is like Fort Knox, so don’t worry about
operational security Bruv.”
Tom laughed at Ricky’s use of jargon, he had no doubt heard
on the DVDs he loved, Black Hawk Down and Mission Impossible
and the likes.
“Listen Rick, there are things going on, which if they came to
light would change the lives of everyone involved.”
Tom felt bad to speak to him this way, but he had to make it
clear how serious this was.
“When I say keep absolutely quiet, I cannot emphasis enough
how important it is, and if any of your friends do by some miracle
find her, they must not approach her.”
“She is shitting herself and a stranger asking questions would
send her scurrying away to the safe place, which I have to believe
she is in right now.”
This made good sense and Ricky had always made it clear
they could not risk approaching her unless she was in immediate
danger. They were all promised a bonus of a few grand which
meant they would be on their A game for the time being.
The last call of the day was a meeting with Mo. He had
managed to get some phone records from Yuri’s phone number,
taken from Ellen's phone, which he’d used triangulation to discern
his whereabouts and they had procured a number Vitaly was
suspected to be using for a few days. The email address he had
given was inspected every day, and traced back to an ISP address,
which was in the Pink Elephant. There were activity reports as well
as intel on their whereabouts at any particular time of day, using
their phone locations.
Armed with his new tools and equipment, Tom set about using
the small workshop set up in the lower ground floor next to the
garden, which was stuffed full of drills and vices and all manner of
DIY equipment, all of which pleased Tom. The fact that running
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about hadn’t had an adverse effect on him, also gave him the
strength of belief to carry on.
He set Ricky the task of finding some Army surplus shops. He
needed the special water bottles that were issued as a matter of
course before the war took them into the desert. Nowadays, they
used Camel Packs, but the C shaped water bottle were what he
needed right now.
The work was very technical and he went back and forth to the
PC to check he was doing things correctly. He’d had some training
in this field but he wasn’t an expert, and these were not the British
Army issue kit he was creating. This caused him a little moral
dilemma for a while. What he was creating was officially termed
as an IED, an improvised explosive device, the bane of the allied
armed forces in Afghanistan, but he had no choice at this point. He
couldn’t get hold of anything officially and didn’t have time to go
through the paces of trying to acquire anything on the black
market. The chances were he may get flagged up if he did. MI5
were pretty hands on in this area at the moment, and he didn’t need
the complication of explaining why he was creating a bomb on
British soil, he would be dead and buried before he got the chance
to sort this out.
With all the things he could get sorted in the meantime
completed, he was ready for some recon. He was worried about
this, he wouldn’t have a backup plan if things went wrong but he
needed to have an idea of what he was up against, and there was no
better way than to see it with his own two eyes.
He got another pay as you go phone, and put in a couple of
fake names and numbers so it appeared to be in regular use, and
courtesy of Ricky, a knocked up fake driving licence. He was now
Toby Green, keeping the initials was vital tradecraft as it helped
when you were in a flap and had to remember who you were
supposed to be. With these things in place, and a whole wad of
ready cash, he got Ricky to drop him at the corner of Whitefield
Street where Bar Ruskie was located. It was the streets of houses
and offices just behind the main drag of Oxford Street. There were
plenty of offices and a few expensive flats, there was a wealth of
creative types who were responsible for ad campaigns, company
logos and all sorts of well-known branding. The bar wasn’t out of
place alongside a few cafes and restaurants, a print shop and a
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newsagent, and the façade gave no indication of what Tom
suspected was going on inside. He knew this was vital in the
business they were in and meant nothing in the scheme of things.
It was only three in the afternoon and apart from a few passing
tourists, the place was almost empty. This suited Tom as he wanted
to see what the place was like as it got busier, who came in, what
sort of clientele he was looking at any given time. He knew from
the website that they had a big expat community that visited the
bar for some tastes of the old country, but this made no sense with
the added attraction of scantily clad waitress’s, who according to a
couple of forums he had investigated, were happy to offer
additional services, if the money was right.
There was only one girl wandering around as he took a seat
next to the fire exit, it was also nearest to the little alley that led to
the toilets and most likely the private room where the girls would
hand out their own brand of customer service. He ordered a diet
coke and watched the young lady wiggle her backside, supposedly
alluringly, as she sauntered back to the serving hatch. There was
food available, so he took a look at the menu. He wasn’t hungry,
but he figured it would buy him some credibility as a customer if
he actually bought something a bit more substantial than soft
drinks. He tipped her a couple of pounds which got him a lovely
smile, she was attractive and very curvy, the ideal type for this sort
of job. The menu wasn’t very Russian, hamburgers, chicken wings
and everything you’d expect in an American bar, which was a
funny oxymoron really. He ordered a burger and some wedges, it
was at an exorbitant price but he didn’t have to worry on that front.
He was well prepared for the evening and had left the house with
about five hundred pounds. He was expecting to pay West End
prices for everything and hoped he would be able to bribe some
information out of someone. He wasn’t even sure what he would
need to know, the primary reason for the trip was to see the main
players for himself and get a look at the establishments. He had a
plan and needed to know where he stood the best chance of
carrying it out.
The afternoon dragged on, and he switched from the way of
gassy cola, to a bottled fruit drink, which at £3 a bottle cost as
much as the cheapest lagers available. He figured it was at least
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one of his five a day dealt with, along with the tomato from the
burger, he was eating as healthy as ever.
The place began to fill up around five, mainly people from the
local offices, not the suit and tie brigade. These were the creative
types, so jeans and fashionable shirts were the uniform of choice.
There were only a couple of women in the groups, which made
perfect sense, although it wasn’t overtly a knocking shop. The
waitress’s would have been a real kick in the teeth to some women,
especially Stacey, the pretty receptionist who rated herself highly,
only to be set alongside these tall busty Goddesses. Why put her in
that situation, when she could go to any other bar and be one of the
loveliest girls there?
There was still a smattering of tourists and the business was
going well for Vitaly. The overpriced drinks were flowing out of
the place, although he hadn’t seen anyone go out back with a
waitress yet. Maybe these girls were just actual waitresses and the
other girls would come on a shift later. He figured some of them
had to be doing the real work while the working girls covered the
other more specialist services.
His original young lady had gone off shift as had the bar staff
who had been there when he arrived. This suited him well as he
wanted to be as inconspicuous as he could and the length of his
stay may have been noted. The bar itself, was a sleekly decorated
affair, mirrors along the entire length of the main wall opposed by
huge prints of modern art, the soviet motif to the work was obvious
and meant to be nostalgic, he guessed. There were very powerful
spotlights that were dimmed at the moment, but could be jacked up
to light up a small square that hadn’t been covered with the
specially made Ruskie logoed carpet. It was about a ten feet square
of laminate flooring, which passed for a dance floor. It really was
almost a clone of the many American bars he’d visited but with the
soviet artwork, they guessed it differed enough for their purpose. It
wasn’t really what he had expected. He had also been in
establishments that specialised in offering girls for sexual favours
and they were usually dark and dingy, the low lighting meant to
offer some anonymity to the clients who were ashamed of their
need to be in such a place.
The décor aside, there was also a feeling that the real work
wasn’t common knowledge.
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The waitresses were skimpily dressed and he read that on
certain nights there was even topless service offered, but you got
the impression that most of the clientele were either not interested
or were completely unaware. The newest waitress was equally as
attractive in a different way. Her gait wasn’t forced, she did the
wiggle as gracefully as he’d ever seen and he could imagine a very
pleasant evening spent in this young lady’s company. He wasn’t
really fit for what he had in mind, but the very fact it occurred at
all was testament to her charms. She came over, he had also tipped
her well, so she was keen to stay on side.
She leaned in to ask if he needed another drink, her cleavage
took his eye for a moment, as she intended. She smiled showing a
fine set of pearly whites, he needed to get on with things, so he
took a chance with this one.
“Yeah, one of those cranberry and whatever’s I had before.
Listen, is the boss around tonight? I wanted to ask about getting
some of my services into this place, we do DJs and Karaoke, a few
live acts, that sort of thing, and I wanted to say hi.”
Her smile dropped for a moment but she quickly regained it,
“No, he’s not here. He comes here on Fridays mostly and maybe a
Wednesday, the manager is here, but he is not very important, you
still want that drink?”
He nodded and she walked off. He was still watching her
backside as his phone vibrated in his pocket, it said Alf but that
was Ricky’s number.
“Hi mate, everything okay?” Ricky asked.
Tom looked around, no one seemed to be interested in him or
his conversation.
“Yeah, wild goose chase I think. He comes in Fridays and
Wednesdays, I didn’t even clear up who was the boss, either this
Yuri or Vitaly himself. I’ve just ordered another drink but then I’m
going to leave. I think the Pink Elephant might be up and running
by now, so I’m gonna head there.”
“I’ll come and get you then, I’ve driven past and it’s not too
far from where you are, but you need to conserve your energy, plus
it’ll be handy if I need to help you out of any dramas won’t it?”
Tom smiled, he knew Ricky was desperate to be involved in
some of this, but he didn’t have faith he could lie as easily as
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equired, a slight slip up could put the object of the mission on
alert and cause a failure as easily as that.
“Yeah, great mate. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll meet you
where you dropped me off, okay?”
He left through the main door, his waitress giving him a casual
wave as he passed her. She had made about a tenner in tips for just
a few soft drinks. He would be welcomed back by her at least.
Ricky was already there. Although it was past seven, the
parking wardens would still be out in force. So he sat in the car
with the engine running.
“Alright mate, you okay? No coughing or anything worrying
happening?”
Ricky was like a mother sometimes, but Tom knew he was
keeping a close eye on his health for signs of deterioration, or the
need for medication, which he had gotten in spades to ensure they
weren’t caught out again.
“Yeah, all good, thanks mate. The amount of fruit juice I’ve
drunk has probably added a few months to my life as it is.”
It was meant as a joke, but the reference to his life coming to
an end bothered Ricky a lot. He smiled, but it was just to alleviate
the tension of the moment.
“Good. Well, do you want to eat or anything before we go on?
You’ll need to keep your energy up if you’re gonna to be there a
while, won’t you?”
Tom shook his head aware he had made Ricky feel bad by his
tone.
“Nah, I ate in there, as much as I could manage anyway. Let’s
just get there, the sooner I get this done the better, any calls on that
other phone while I was in there?”
He had left Ellen's phone with Ricky. He had to show him the
number that he would have to answer, otherwise, he was to let it
ring out and thereby divert to Ellen.
“No nothing. It’s an old phone that one. You should get a new
IPhone or something mate, they’re the new thing to have, you
know?”
“Not really my thing, mate. It’s not my phone anyway, and I
might not last long enough to run the battery out, remember?”
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Ricky flushed at having been so insensitive. He wasn’t
thinking, but he felt terrible. Tom wasn’t bothered by this stuff but
it made Ricky feel awful.
In the time it took them to have this chat, they had arrived on
the corner of Brewer Street. It was in the midst of the old Soho,
there were still sex clubs with gaudy lights outside, quite a few less
than in its heyday. A number of magazine sellers who side-lined in
DVDs and sex toys these days; it was a grim looking place. Old
Victorian buildings looking their age with flaky paint on the
window frames and dreary curtains, stained with cigarette smoke
by their “Model “ occupants over the years.
The Pink Elephant was decorated with one of those neon
signs, it wasn’t anything special, just a huge pink elephant with its
name underneath and live girls advertised, nothing subtle or clever
about it, Tom thought. There was a big man on either side of the
door, it seemed a little over the top as there was no sign of anyone
trying to get in, let alone there having to be a selective policy that
needed to be enforced by bouncers such as these.
They nodded a greeting as he passed between them, the
anteroom inside was dark, lit with a reddish bulb that allowed the
girl behind the till to see what she was doing. The cover was ten
pounds, another form of extortion he thought, but he handed it
over, the woman who took it was older than he expected, although
you could see she had been a looker in her day, under the red
gloomy light anyway. She took the crisp note without a word, just
handing him a raffle ticket by way of receipt.
“This get you free first drink, yes?”
He nodded understanding and pushed through the beaded
curtain beside the counter that led into the bar proper.
He had been aware of a thumping boom in the outer area, but
somehow the little beaded curtain had contained it very well,
because as he stepped through, it hit him in a wave of noise. He
was sure his heart was starting to take on this artificial beat, such
was its power. This was exactly what he had expected the other
place to be like. There was a red velvet flock on the walls, which
were uplighted by a string of regularly spaced lamps. The room
was quite dark, red lighting above their heads illuminated the
tables enough to be able to see their drinks and chat if needed, but
not so bright as to show their fellow drinkers who was sitting at the
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next table. The tables were spaced quite far apart, which made
sense when he saw a half-naked girl writhing on the lap of a
smiling man in a tracksuit, possibly a tourist or just a bad dresser
Tom thought. The girls here were not unlike the waitresses at
Ruskie, but their uniform was even skimpier. Essentially, a thong
and bikini top, a very small bikini top that did little to hide their
charms, of which there were ample examples floating around.
As he stood in the entrance, one of the girls noticed him and
swayed towards him. A big smile on her face as she threw her
shoulders back, it had the effect of increasing what were already a
formidable looking pair of breasts.
“Hello sir, may I sit you at a table or you want to sit at bar?”
Her accent was definitely Eastern European, but he couldn’t
identify where exactly. She gestured towards the long bar with a
few well-spaced stools along the front, there was one man seated
there and Tom didn’t want to be anywhere near anyone else.
“I’d like a table please love, near the back if you can?”
She nodded but carried on speaking.
“Why near the back sir? You not see the amazing dancing
from back there. “
She again gestured, this time to the only well-lit part of the
room. There was a split stage with a pole on either side and a small
podium in-between. The last dancers had just finished and the
announcer was in the middle of asking for a round of applause for
their sterling efforts, this was half-heartedly given by the handful
of customers scattered around the room. “The back will be fine
love, I like the privacy if you get my meaning?”
Her face illuminated with a huge smile as she touched his
shoulder in mock embarrassment.
“You are a cheeky one I can see, yes. We find you somewhere
private no problem.”
He followed her to a table that was not anywhere near any of
the other punters, the other tables may well get filled, but for now,
he was secluded. He didn’t know how long he was going to be here
so he just agreed and handed her his raffle ticket.
“Just a diet coke please love, I need a clear head.”
She took the little yellow ticket and thought for a second.
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“You know this your only free drink? And they not cheap, it’s
not even Coke, but cheap shitty stuff. Maybe you have a beer
instead, for better money value, yes?”
“Nah, I’m not on the drink at the moment, antibiotics, so Cola
of any kind is fine, thanks for the heads up though.”
As she turned to go, she looked back.
“By the way, I am Carla and I will be serving you tonight,
anything you want, anything, just ask, yes?”
The implication was obvious, she was more than just a
hostess, she was a working girl and Tom only had to ask and she
would be available to him for whatever he felt like doing.
She had been right about the cola; it was terrible. The
sweeteners were the kind that left an aftertaste and he was
seriously thinking of emptying it into the fake plant pot beside his
table. He would risk the effects of fruit juice on him and go for OJ
or something else next time. He sat on a side of the table to face
the stage, which also meant he was able to observe any comings
and goings through the beaded curtain, of which, there was very
little going on. Carla came back to check that he was okay. She
clearly wanted to offer her services, to get him over and done with
before they got busy. She was worried she might miss out to one of
the dancers who would start to roam around the tables soon, but
she was told to wait until she was sure they were actually
legitimate customers, and not just time wasters or worse
undercover cops.
He ordered his juice and she flirted with him for a while
before walking away hips swaying. Tom’s eyes following along
for the ride. He was actually enjoying this little recon mission, all
the sexy girls was a nice change of pace for him and he was
starting to wonder if his libido might make an appearance before
he met his end. He didn’t want to be paying for it, that would be
the ultimate in saddo behaviour but it was nice to think he might
get his leg over one last time, and seeing Carla’s lovely backside
moving slowly away brought a wry smile to his face, he wished.
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Chapter Nineteen
It had been three days now and Vitaly’s original feeling of
optimism was failing him. Yuri had kept an eye on the clinic for all
the hours it was open, but to no avail. She hadn’t shown at all. He
had managed to get Karl to identify the woman he had seen with
Saffy in the waiting room, she had red hair and walked very fast,
she carried a laptop bag stuffed full of folders. She had been with
another woman, clearly an addict and just as before, she had sat
with them until the counsellor called them in, then took them away
at the end.
Yuri sent Karl to follow them in his car while he waited on the
off chance she might come alone. They had gone to a big house
with a secure door, some sort of women’s refuge he surmised. His
mum had been in one once so he recognised the set up.
After dropping the young woman off, she resurfaced and
drove to an office just on the edge of the town centre. He got out
and looked at the plaque in the reception, which detailed which
floor was in use by whom. The top three floors were social
services, so he had something to tell Yuri. He was a little worried
he was losing faith in him and he didn’t relish trying to placate the
big man if that happened.
He gave Yuri the information, and was relieved when Yuri
pulled out two fifty-pound notes and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Good work my friend. I will tell the boss how hard you have
worked for him, he may reward you.”
Karl wasn’t sure he wanted to be in Vitaly’s thoughts at all, he
was too unpredictable. Yes, when he was getting good reports he
was friendly and even generous, but it only took one error and he
was a monster. He’d had one of Karl’s mates beaten senseless for
allowing one of his men to sell to an undercover policewoman
posing as a hooker. It was just bad luck, but he never made it to
court, he was too badly injured to face trial and he had lost touch
with him. They had all pulled away from him in case they were
deemed guilty by association.
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Yuri had gone to the office block that evening and waited for
the woman to leave. He had no need to follow her. She wasn’t
going to be visiting Saffy from this place, but he needed to get
some information from her files and he sat there pondering his next
move very carefully, Vitaly would expect more than just excuses
for why they hadn’t found her, and he hoped a sensible action plan
would assuage his temper for the time being.
Now, as he sat in the back office of the Pink Elephant
watching the punters engrossed in the dancing girls, he wasn’t as
confident in his plan but he had nothing else to offer, so it was out
of his hands now.
Vitaly was looking a bit better these last couple of days, he
hadn’t been on the heavy stuff since he found out she had been
spotted, and his mood had been a lot easier to judge, not
necessarily any more pleasant, just not as up and down.
“So, we have no idea where she is? Is that what you’re telling
me Yuri? That after three days, you still haven’t found her?”
His tone was unsettling, he was clearly pissed off, but Yuri
was hopeful of turning the tide on this one.
“Well, yes, I mean no. We don’t have her, but I think we know
who will have the information. We have identified a woman from
social services who was seen with her. I have traced her back to
her offices and I think we could find her, if we can get in there and
search her records. We might even be able to get that young kid
from Kosovo, who is good with computers to hack in. It might be
as easy as that, or we get someone to go in and search by hand, it’s
all easily done I think.”
By the look on his face, Yuri could see this had at least gotten
his attention onto a positive idea, he wasn’t looking so angry at
least.
“Yes, this sounds good my friend, you’ve done well, again. I
will call the little hacker and see what he can find. You will need
to give him all we know, do we have a name for this woman yet?”
Yuri nodded, “We know she is called Fiona, as the girl with
her said as much when they were walking back to her car. It
shouldn’t be hard to find her other name, there is most likely only a
few in the building with that name, and we’ll work out which is
her, I’m sure.”
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Vitaly wasn’t as convinced by this, but it was a better plan
than just staking out somewhere she may have moved away from.
Karl had mentioned the refuge and Yuri had set up a look out just
in case she turned up, they had plenty of photos of Saffy. They
cropped them just to show her face, and it was costing them
peanuts for Karl and a friend to keep watch.
The main room in the bar was still quiet, it would be for most
of the night. Tuesday was not a good night for them but there were
a dozen or so men in, a few pairs and the usual lone drinkers. Sad
men who didn’t realise they could have got the same service for a
fraction of the cost by looking in the local paper.
The girls on shift weren’t the best earners, these were girls
working their way up. They had to prove themselves before they
could expect to get the best nights, where they would pick up good
tips and generally have a better time of it. The weirdoes came in on
these nights and the girls had to learn to take the rough with the
smooth.
He panned the camera around, just to see if anything unusual
was going on. He could see a couple of girls giving a lap dance
together for a fat Asian looking guy, he was smiling like a kid in a
sweetshop as they caressed each other and kissed while waving
their breasts in his face. Everyone else was focused on the pole
dancers, except the guy in the rear of the room. He was just sitting
looking at his mobile phone, he was probably reading a text. He
would be similarly engrossed in a moment.
He watched Carla make her way over to him, he was lucky
thought Yuri, she was a good girl, a bit inexperienced, but very
pretty and eager to please. He had interviewed her personally, well,
he took the opportunity to fuck her before letting her loose on his
club, well, Vitaly’s club, but he was in charge of getting the right
girls into the place. He had the pick of the recent imports. Girls
who had used the well-oiled machine the Russians had in place for
the Eastern European girls to gain access to Britain. They had
believed life would be good here, that they would be working in
regular jobs to pay back the loan they took out to pay for their
passage, but for most it was not like that. The ugly ones were put
into service in menial jobs, cleaners and maids. They were the
lucky ones and were never jealous of their prettier friends ever
again. These unlucky girls were put into a whole different type of
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service where they had no choice but to prostitute themselves to
get their passports back. To pay for food and lodgings and in many
cases the drugs they were given to make them compliant.
Yuri thought about the fate of these girls, they had made a
serious error in judgement yes, but they didn’t deserve this life, not
in his mind anyway.
Vitaly was drunk once and told him how he saw the whole
thing, he spoke about his sister, what she had gone through in the
home she was placed in, the night he had found her and how he felt
when she had died in the fight. She had been given no opportunity
in life, she had made no decision she could be held responsible for,
she had been exploited without recourse. If she, who was innocent
and pure, could be abused in such a way, then by what right did
these stupid bitches deserve any better.
Yuri could feel anger flowing in his words but said nothing in
their defence. He obviously hated what had happened and instead
of reacting as many would, by wanting to save other girls, he went
completely the other way.
Only a psychiatrist could really explain why he had felt this
way, but he was never likely to meet one, at least not
professionally. He watched Carla chat to the man, he was typical
of their clients. Shabby looking and shy, she was giving him big
signals about her availability and he wasn’t biting just yet. He
would, thought Yuri. They all did in the end, otherwise why pay
nearly ten pounds for a drink if you just wanted to see a pole
dancer and flirt with a hottie.
Vitaly came back in momentarily to say he was leaving. He
wanted to check on some stuff and get an early night for a change.
He just wanted a word with Kasper, who was behind the bar
tonight.
As Vitaly came out of the doors leading into the private
rooms, Yuri noticed the guy at the rear perk up suddenly. He must
have recognised him from somewhere because his head followed
him as he crossed to the bar. Vitaly was speaking to Kasper and
this guy was just staring at them. He was completely engrossed in
what was happening at the bar and Yuri was suspicious, was he a
cop? He could be, they did tend to pick the most unlikely looking
types for this sort of work. If he was, what was he going to do
about it? They were allowed to have a drink like anyone else,
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weren’t they? And nothing was going on that they could really do
anything about, not overtly anyway. He put a call in to the guy
manning the console, asking for Carla to report to the stage, which
was code for the office.
As Vitaly started to walk back towards the private area, the
man stood as if to follow, he must have thought twice about it
because he sat down. Just as the call for Carla had gone out, maybe
he was wise to their codes, or he was just coincidently about to
leave and decided not to. Carla called him from the stage area
phone.
“Yes, this is Carla, you want me to call?”
He wasn’t sure what to tell her, he wanted to find out what
was going on, but he didn’t want to over step the mark and cause a
problem where none existed.
“This guy you’re serving, is he likely to ask for more services?
Do you think he’s wasting time or is he serious about you?”
He was speaking in Russian, which was not her first language,
so she took a second to think about it.
“Well, he hasn’t said anything yet, but he is liking me, I think,
and I was going to offer him a private dance next drink to see if he
wanted to go out back. Do you want me to stop, is he a police
man?”
A decision made, he put forward his instructions as succinctly
as he could.
“Go back and say you like him a lot and want to do a private
dance for him, cut price, if he’s a cop, we will sort this out for you,
but I don’t think he is. Take him to room three and we’ll see what
happens, if you do this well Carla, I will get you a shift on a
Friday, okay?” She put her tray away and prepared herself for the
sales pitch, she tried to be even more alluring as she walked
towards Tom. He had noticed her from way back and hadn’t taken
his eyes off of her all the while she drew closer.
“I just think of you and wondered if maybe you like a dance
from me? I think you like me, yes and I like you, so this be very
good dance. We go to our private area and I do good price for you,
because I like you very much.”
He looked pleased, but didn’t answer straight away. He took
in the rest of the room for a moment before leaning in, the euro
beat music was loud at this end of the room.
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“Well, if you put it like that I can’t really refuse you can I?
That would be ungentlemanly of me wouldn’t it?”
He stood as she offered her hand and was led to the door at the
side of the stage area he had seen Vitaly go through.
His plan had changed very quickly, he had intended to get her
sweetened up with tips, and then ask her a few choice questions.
Nothing too obvious, maybe use the same line as back in the other
bar, seeing Vitaly had thrown him and now he was desperate to get
back there, to see what was going on and who was running things.
As Tom followed Carla, aware of some admiring glances as
she passed a table with a couple of Arabs sitting together, he was
trying to work out his next move. What would he say to this girl to
get out of having sex? He couldn’t have managed even if he was
feeling a little more enamoured with the idea of sex in general,
how could he get out of the room and into the staff area?
He was sure that his targets were here now, so he wanted to
get as much out of the situation as possible. They went through a
velvet covered door into a corridor, it smelt somewhere between a
locker room and lemon factory, the fruity smell clearly intended to
mask the scent of male musk. The walls were a deep crimson with
pictures of women in various states of undress, plastered along it at
eye level. The music was muted back here and Tom was relieved
to be away from the annoyingly repetitive beats. There were quite
a few doors on the right hand wall, numbered in Cyrillic’s, and at
the very end, there was a different type of door with some writing
on a small brass plaque. He couldn’t see, but assumed the writing
would be in Russian as well.
“We go in here, this my special room, yes?”
She indicated a door she was holding open, he had to step
under her outstretched arm and her breast brushed his cheek in
doing so.
“You make yourself comfort, yes, we have to speak about
money okay? But just quickly, we want to have fun together quick,
yes?”
He smiled along, this was the tricky part he hadn’t planned on.
“Well, what do you want sweetheart? I’m happy to pay the
going rate, I don’t want you going short because of me.”
Her eyes widened as she realised she was not going to be
shafted on the cut price part of the deal, she didn’t trust Yuri to
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come good with the Friday shift so this would be a regular deal
which she could expect something for. They agreed on two
hundred pounds for straight sex, and she took his money and went
to pay it in. The girls all did this before the act so they couldn’t get
done over, financially anyway.
Yuri was waiting for her, room number three was video linked
and he had heard their exchange, the fact he hadn’t tried to get a
better deal caused Yuri even more suspicion.
“Go through the motions and see what happens, I’ll be
listening, but make sure anything he says is loud enough, if you
have to, repeat it, but don’t be too obvious about it okay?”
She nodded and went back to her room. Usually while the
girls paid the money over the clients would undress, all the more
ready for the fun, but Tom was as she’d left him.
“You need to undress, yes, for us to make fun we need you to
get naked, like me, we must both be naked.”
She shrugged off the bikini top as she spoke by way of
demonstrating her point, she was confused as he stood there, he
hadn’t even taken a seat on the edge of the bed. He was a big guy
and she felt a tinge of intimidation by his standing so close, not
making any efforts to undress.
“Please, my friend, you must undress, maybe you want me to
help, is this it? Yes, you like me to take your clothes off for you,
slowly like sexy okay?”
Tom wasn’t being deliberately awkward, he just hadn’t
considered what to do at this point. The sight of her naked flesh
was arousing but he was aware of the fact he wasn’t physically
reacting to this stimulus. He was not able to even put on pretence
of obliging her, he was in a position he thought he’d never
experience again.
The training he received had been the best out there, wherever
the regiment deemed the top trainers to be, they sent them there, or
brought them in.
Israelis for counter terrorism, Americans on the weapons end,
and countless other specialists in between. Tom was a finely honed
tool and as such, he was able to make snap judgements that would
facilitate the completion of whatever he was doing. There was no
time for thinking over possible scenarios, you came up with
something and went with it. Now was such an occasion and he was
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like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, just standing there, in a
brothel, with a beautiful woman expecting him to engage her in
sexual relations, while outside was the target of his mission. The
man who could potentially end the life of the dearest person on this
planet and he was doing nothing.
As Carla pulled her thong off, he looked at her. She was
amazing. Her pubic hair was shaved into a small triangle, and her
long legs seemed somehow longer now that she had stepped out of
her transparent heeled shoes. This was just a distraction; he needed
to get on with doing whatever he was intending to do. The problem
was he wasn’t sure of his intent at that point. Maybe it was the
drugs or the illness itself, but he was confused and out of kilter,
with what was happening. He had to do something or he would be
in trouble. At the very least, she would report back to her brothel
master he wasn’t complying, or would she? If she was paid, what
did it matter to her? Unaware he was being filmed, he believed she
might keep schtum about this if he could convince her it was
something logical that kept him from completing his part of the
deal.
“Listen Hun, it’s not anything you’re doing, I’m just a bit
nervous, it’s been a while and I haven’t been with anyone nearly as
gorgeous as you, you understand? I’m just nervous I guess.”
She looked up into his face to see the truth in his eyes, she felt
she had a talent for this sort of stuff, but he looked away, natural
enough in his embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, we take time, yes? I make you feel ready
quickly, nice and gentle, just relax and let Carla make it okay.”
As she reached for his zipper, he gently pulled her hand away.
This was going wrong and he wasn’t anywhere near getting to the
point of why he had come back here. She seemed a good lass and
he hoped he could reason with her to keep quiet while he did what
he needed to. Should he trust her? He had no choice at that point.
He pushed her back toward the bed, very lightly, he didn’t
want to come across as aggressive and she stumbled back into
sitting where he was supposed to have been. She looked worried
but he smiled in an effort to allay her fears.
“Listen love, I don’t want to have sex, not with you or anyone
else okay? I just need to have a look about outside for a moment, I
can give you another hundred pounds right now if you just play
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all,” unwittingly he looked at the hidden camera, “Sit tight and let
me do what I’ve got to do. You won’t have any trouble from me
ever again, what do you say?”
She looked into the corner where the camera was concealed
and tried to get him to realise it was there, she couldn’t risk saying
anything, but if he was aware he might stop saying these things
and she could just get on with it. No need for Yuri to get angry
with him or more importantly her, but it was too late. Tom was
about to make a more heartfelt plea, up his offer, although he
wasn’t sure what he had left on him. The cost of things was even
higher than expected, so the money was dwindling faster than
expected, as he leaned forward trying to make himself seem
smaller and less threatening the door opened behind him.
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Chapter Twenty
The first man through the door wasn’t Yuri, but Mikhail.
Although to Tom, it made no difference as he was grabbed by the
shoulders and pinned against the wall. Carla screamed, going
hysterical and would have continued had Yuri not stepped into the
room and backhanded her across the face.
Tom realised what was happening far too late to act, even if he
had been at full fitness he would have struggled, but in his current
state he was fucked. Although not as big as Yuri, Mikhail was a
big man, Tom still had few inches on him, he usually did over
most people, but Mikhail was also a very strong man. His hands
were clamped around the tops of Tom’s arms, holding tight enough
to keep him immobile, while Yuri stepped back to have a good
look at him.
“What you think you doing here? You spy for someone
maybe, I see you looking at my boss, you know him? He do
something you not like to your lady maybe or maybe you cop,
no?” He stepped back to have a better look at him, “I don’t think
you work for police, they have to be strong man and you not, not
now at least, you look like shit man.”
Tom was in no state to answer. The constriction of his chest
by Mikhail was making his breathing difficult.
“Let me go, get this fucking gorilla off of me, I just” he was
interrupted by a right hand from Yuri, which sent his head reeling
and stars appeared behind his eyes.
“Don’t be rude with us, we not the ones who come here and
try get busy, making me have to hurt Carla and spoil other people’s
day. Now, what you want, just tell me?”
Mikhail let Tom drop to the floor and gave him a kick to the
guts to emphasise his disgust at his weakness.
The whole thing seemed to last for hours. The fact that he lost
consciousness made it hard to work out, he was in the bedroom
one minute, then he was in a beer cellar tied to a chair the next. His
head was spinning as he came around, they must have thrown
water over him because he was wet and very cold. His shirt was
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plastered to him and there was stuff running into his eyes, it was
making them sting, God he hoped it was water.
The room was dark and stunk of dampness. There was a single
light bulb hanging naked from the ceiling, it was set too low to be
effective but was enough for Tom to see he was not alone. There
were at least two people he could see from his position, which was
pretty much in the middle of the space. It wasn’t what you would
call a room more of a storage space. They were talking quietly in
what he suspected was Russian, again he understood the odd word,
nothing valuable and certainly no help in his current predicament.
He kept his awareness to himself by staying stock-still. He used his
peripheral vision to get some idea of where he was, but this was
nearly useless in the gloom, all he knew was he could see two sets
of feet and hear at least two voices. None of this helped him decide
on a course of action. He almost laughed at the thought, what could
he possibly do? Regardless of any ideas he might possibly have?
He would have been hard pressed to act on his best days, but now,
a shadow of his former self, cancer riddled and unable to remain
conscious under the simplest of circumstance. He was fucked, and
he had to accept the situation. All he could do was limit the danger
he put anyone else in, especially Saffy.
“Mr Green, yes, you understand me don’t you Mr Green?
Maybe you try and pretend to be sleep, but I know, I can see you
are here now.”
He was hit hard across the back of head by an open hand, it
hurt, but was unlikely to cause further concussion. They wanted to
talk to him and for him to be able answer.
The fact they thought he was Green was good. The fake
licence had worked its trick, and the phone would prove useless to
them as well. Only one number actually had anyone on the other
end. Alf would get through to Ricky, but he was aware of the
potential of any call from this line and he would answer as if he
was a friend of Greens. He would plead ignorance of anything he
might be up to, and ring off, at least that was the plan. Tom could
only hope he followed it when push came to shove.
“Well, Mr Green, Toby you prefer maybe, yes? Toby, you
have been a bad man, coming in our club and trying to get our girl
to keep secrets from us, this is not a nice man, we think.” The
speaker said something in Russian to whoever else was there. They
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sniggered in response. “You have lots of money, maybe you have
been paid to spy on us, yes? By someone we know, maybe?”
So, they didn’t have a clear idea of what was going on, they
were suspicious about him but didn’t have anything they could
specifically tie him into, this was good, so far.
“I just wanted to have a look around, I’ve never been in a
place like this, honestly, I was being silly, yes, but just nosey, not
up to anything, why would I?”
This elicited a laugh from whoever was behind him, then
another crack to the back of the head. It hurt, but he was able to
suffer this, he hoped it was as bad as it got, but he wasn’t
optimistic.
“Toby, you think we stupid Russian peasants, that we don’t
know about clever things like you, that you maybe too smart for
us, but this not true my friend, we have many ways to find out
what you are doing here, but maybe you want to just tell us and
avoid more pain, yes?”
His head was swimming and the stinging in his eyes hadn’t
faded at all, it wasn’t water for sure. He tried to get a handle on his
emotions; a cool head might just save his life here, if he could just
know what they would like to hear from him, to get them to back
off. He was sure they hadn’t associated him with anything to do
with Saffy, but they obviously were worried about someone spying
on them.
“I’m a private detective, I was asked to have a look for a man
here, by a lady, she thinks he comes here and I was supposed to
find him, prove her right so she can screw him in a divorce, that’s
all, honest.”
It sounded feasible to Tom, at the time anyway, but there were
holes in it he hoped they wouldn’t have sussed out yet. The larger
of the two pairs of feet came around to face him, all he could see
were the legs, which were thick and long like tree trunks. He
guessed this was Yuri. As he tried to turn his head to get a better
look a fist crashed into his midsection, winding him and making
him rack as he tried to vomit.
“No my friend, I don’t think this true, you are something
different from detective, maybe you know one of the girls, is that
it?”
He was speaking in a mocking tone, clearly enjoying himself.
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“You meet her and want get her out of here for yourself, they
try and get men sometimes for help, but it not possible. “
He paused a moment to see if he got any reaction.
“No, I don’t think this is true either, you too smart for this, I
hear you were at my bar earlier today, said you were a DJ, you
want to meet the boss, why? And when he come into bar you get
excited, you try and follow, why?”
This was a difficult one to explain, how would he have known
who the boss was without some kind of information he shouldn’t
have had.
“Look guys, I’m not important, just a private dick who got too
nosey that’s all. My bosses wanted some information and I just
tried to get it for them, I don’t even know who they are, they pay
by transfer and send instruction via e-mail, that’s all I know, they
want to know about the owner, where to find him and when, that
sort of thing, I promise.”
Yuri backhanded Tom across the brow and he momentarily
lost consciousness. It felt longer, but nothing had changed, he was
still standing there, looming above him. They were talking again,
something about an Englishman and a Karpov whatever one of
them was. Clearly, they had something in mind, their Paranoia
about whoever, was exactly what he needed to hear, it gave him a
possible out, if there was any real chance of getting out, he grimly
pondered.
For the next forty minutes, he was subjected to inhuman
torture, Yuri would slap him, ask a question, he wouldn’t have the
right answer and he would then pick a part and go to work on it,
using blunt instruments to lay into him. His legs were smashed by
gas canisters, probably used to carbonate the drinks. He smashed
his face repeatedly, reviving him whenever it got too much for him
and started again. They would leave the head until they got
impatient again, all the violence was administered by Yuri, which
Tom considered, meant the other person was Vitaly. He had
stopped trying to lie his way out of this, he didn’t have a clue who
they were asking him about and he assumed he would be dead
pretty soon, if he did manage to do so without any mention of
Saffy, then it would a pyrrhic victory to him.
It had been a good hour since they brought this man into the
cellar and they had nothing of worth from the venture. He was
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either too stupid or genuinely unaware of what was going on. Yuri
admired his resilience, but it got Vitaly especially wound up. He
had tortured men before, he liked to do it but in this case, he left it
to his lieutenant. He didn’t want to be identified in case it was what
he had first thought, that bastard Wainright had sent him to get
some information he could use against him. He was probably a
very angry man right now, but he would be a dangerous foe until
he could be neutralised.
Vitaly smiled as he thought about his revenge on the petty
English fool, he had managed to get one of the baggage handlers to
plant a bag of heroin into his luggage, this had been especially
difficult as they were on a private charter, but if you spent enough
money you could accomplish almost anything. From there, it was a
simple phone call to Swiss customs to advise them of his suspicion
about the businessman. He would probably get away with it, the
Swiss were notoriously clever when it came to their business
community and liked to keep it stocked full of rich men who paid
their taxes.
The Englishman that was currently taking his attention had
passed out again, they would give him a while this time, even
torturers got tired, he mused. While Yuri got ready to return to the
fray he picked up his mobile in the hope it would have a clue or
two, there were no texts in the memory at all, none received or
sent, which was strange and there was only a few numbers in the
memory. He picked the first, Alf, and pressed call. It rang for a few
moments then a man with a thick London accent answered.
Vitaly thought for a second then spoke.
“Hello, is this a friend of Toby’s, Alf, is it?”
The man on the other end paused for a second clearly
confused to be called from Toby’s phone, only to have a Russian
speak to him, about Toby.
“Yeah, this is Alf, who’s that? Where’s Toby? He should
have been here ages ago, you an ambulance man or something?”
Vitaly smiled, perfect.
“Yes, I am Medic, we have found this phone with a man, but
we don’t know who he is, do you know where this Toby was
supposed to be going tonight?”
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Ricky had thought about this and he decided he needed to be a
bit more dramatic than Tom had suggested, well not so much
suggested as ordered.
“Well, he was popping into Soho for some reason, then we
were due to meet up for a drink on Tottenham Court Road. I’m
here now waiting for him, what’s this guy look like? He might
have nicked the phone from him, it might be someone else.”
“What he do this evening? He partying or at work? Maybe he
told you what he was going to do?”
Vitaly didn’t want this Alf to have long enough to think too
much about the oddness of the situation, but Ricky was wise to this
and continued as Tom had told him.
“He is a private detective on a minor case as far as I know,
nothing big just some information for a client, that’s all he told me.
Where are you? I can come round and check for you, I’m only in
the pub, it won’t take me long to get to Soho.”
The line cleared as Vitaly ended the call, he took another look
at Tom, he was in a shit state and would most likely die very soon.
He clearly wasn’t very important or highly paid, yes, he had some
cash on him, but he’d spent most of it in trying to find out what?
As Yuri laid into him again, smashing into his thigh with the huge
spanner that they used to change the barrels, Vitaly pondered the
situation. What was he trying to find out? Who ran the clubs? This
was not common knowledge but easy enough to discover if he
tried hard enough, what Vitaly looked like seemed to be likely but
why? None of this made sense and he had better things to do than
interrogate nobody’s about their motives.
“Yuri, when he wakes use the knife to see if there is anything
else, otherwise just cut his throat and dump him.”
Yuri nodded, he would throw some more of the dregs over
him to get him awake again, then he would finish him off.
Just then one of the fire alarms sounded from upstairs, this
was not usual and meant that, either the smoke alarms had been
triggered, or a fire door had been used, they couldn’t run the risk of
the fire brigade steaming in and finding Toby tied to a chair. They
left Mikhail, who had been sitting out in the hall, to watch over
him as they went to find out what was happening and try to head
off any attention from the fire brigade.
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As they left, Yuri turned to Mikhail and said, “Just cut his
throat, don’t bother to wake him, we’ll sort out what’s been
happening later, the knifes on the barrels over there.”
He nodded toward the stack of metal barrels waiting their turn
to be tapped and emptied.
They left by the front steps up to the entrance and as they did,
the sound of the alarms hid a loud crash as the rear delivery door
was caved in with an almighty kick.
Mikhail who was in the cellar opposite the door, jumped back
in surprise allowing Ricky to fill the gap between them faster than
he could react. He took one look at Tom, tied to his chair, possibly
dead and clearly victim of an assault, and leapt on the Russian.
As big as he was, Ricky was easily a match for him, strength
wise and they locked into an embrace, wrestling as they fell
backwards. Ricky landed on the other man, forcing air from his
lungs while adding all his weight to prevent him from getting his
breath back. Ricky had slipped his grasp and gripped his throat
with his free hand. Ricky’s hands were like shovels but Mikhail’s
neck was thick and instead of trying to strangle him, he grabbed
hold of the Adam’s apple, crushing it as tightly as he could, as
Mikhail bucked and writhed trying to get him off for a second, just
to get some breath and relieve the pressure on his windpipe. Ricky
was drawing blood from the throat as his grip tightened and he
could feel the Russian weakening. As the windpipe was constricted
enough to prevent him breathing in any way, he held firm,
applying more pressure onto his chest as the fight drained out of
him. He held on even when he stopped moving, only letting go
when he was sure he was dead. He wiped his bloody right hand on
the dead man’s shirt and climbed up, breathing hard from the
exertion, to see how Tom fared.
He was frightened he had been too late, but he came as soon
as he got the call, his worst fears were almost confirmed as he tried
his neck for a pulse. He struggled to find one and imagined he was
already dead, but as he calmed down, he managed to find a weak
intermittent pulse. He was not going to allow his brother to die, he
would get him to a hospital and let them do their thing, he trusted
in the people at St Thomas’s.
They had never let him down. He cut Tom free from the chair
and shouldered him as he struggled back up the alley that led to the
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delivery door, and out onto the street. The car was a few feet away
and he managed to lay him as gently as he could onto the back
seat. Just a few yards away unaware of any of the last few minute’s
events, Vitaly was looking up the length of Berwick Street for
whoever had set the fire door off on the far side of the building,
Ricky pulled out into the flow of traffic and headed to the hospital,
taking every risk required to get there in time.
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Chapter Twenty­One
The weather was getting better and she was starting to
understand why people flocked to Brighton, thousands every
weekend. The winter months were quieter but still they came. The
antiques were a big draw, the Lanes drawing collectors and
browsers from miles around to search through the eclectic mix of
stores. Everything from 17 th century furniture to 20 th century pop
culture was on offer, along with the many coffee shops, bars and
high street shopping. There was never a truly quiet time in the
main Town Centre.
Saffy had a fifteen-minute walk into town and it was a nice
stroll, she thought. The good burghers of Brighton were a mixed
lot themselves. There were the students in their many guises,
Goths, Emo’s, Skateboarders and Preppy types, the businessmen
who commuted to London every week day, and their fussy looking
wives who met to complain at the falling standards of the area.
Then there were the dropouts who seemed to love the place.
Sally could have been put into this category. They were
usually a bit too old to be students, although many of them came
here originally to be one. They found the free living ethos
seductive, the easy access to class A’s endearing, and the welfare
state seemed to be arranged to allow them the lifestyle they always
dreamt of. The accommodation wasn’t great, most of them lived in
the converted houses that had been done in the sixties and rarely
upgraded since. They were usually small squalid affairs but the
government paid the rent and they had access to all the delights of
the town, laid out there for them to enjoy. Saffy watched these
folks wandering about, sitting on the pavement in freezing
temperatures or congregating in groups on street corners and
wondered where she fitted in here.
Sally had introduced her to a couple of girls she sold weed to.
They were uni students and had been on a course similar to
Saffy’s. They were nice enough, but she didn’t really connect with
them.
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Tracey and Denise were both in their early twenties, and had
the standard student lifestyle of drinking, getting stoned and the
occasional lecture. Saffy could identify with them easily enough,
but it was the stuff that went on in her life they didn’t share that
kept her from making any real connection with them. She was
always worried they would ask a hard question. Who was the
father, how had they met, where had she been at uni, all these
things were easily explained away, with her newly found back
story, but she hated being a liar and felt constant shame at the
events that had led her to this place at this time.
The very thought that she was carrying Vitaly’s child made
her feel conflicted, she wanted this child and would love it with all
her might, but would she be seeing the face of her tormentor in
theirs? Would it affect her feelings later on when times were tough,
the constant night feeds then teething, kids were hard work and
many better prepared mothers came to resent the child, without the
added animosity felt towards their father. Could she handle this
when the time came?
She had hoped to get a chance to discuss this with her social
worker but it wasn’t really on the agenda. She had now met her
new caseworker, Mali Gnenge, a nice enough lady who had been
away on maternity leave up until now, and was constantly
checking her phone in case the child-minder had been in touch.
She was mixed race as well, her father was Nigerian. She
explained and she looked West Indian, as opposed to the pale
brown one expected in their kind. She was short and frumpy, the
baby weight wasn’t coming off too easily for her, and as much as
she appeared to be interested, there was something about her that
didn’t instil confidence in Saffy. They had met once at the flat, but
she had asked Saffy to come into town for their next chat, at the
local community hall, where they had a weekly surgery for the
ladies in the area in need of their assistance.
There were a few other women waiting in the main hall for
whoever they had arranged to see, some of them clearly knew each
other. Those with kids sat looking harassed as the little mites ran
around screaming with each other, a few had prams, the other
women would stand over them cooing in at the little one. The mix
was unusual to Saffy, they were mostly White, a few Asian girls
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although not all the white girls were English. There were Polish
and Romanians as well as the odd Irish accent.
She took a seat along the outside edge of the hall and waited
for her turn, she saw Mali taking another young lady into a side
room. She nodded in acknowledgement and disappeared into the
room, closing the door behind her. She was on time for her
appointment, so this must mean she wasn’t going to be seen in the
next two minutes, which was her allotted time, typical she thought.
She got into a conversation with one of the Asian ladies about the
number of eastern Europeans there, it was disgusting apparently
that they came to this country and used all the facilities without
having any real right to them. The fact this conversation was
happening between two women, who would have both been
described by your average white racist as foreigners, wasn’t lost on
her. She nodded and sighed in the appropriate places and prayed
for the time to pass quickly. She saw the door open and the girl
who had clearly been crying walked past her, sniffing into a tissue
as she did. Mali looked at her and indicated it was time to have
their meeting.
It went as expected; the facts were laid out. She was expected
to maintain her estrangement from the baby’s father. If she got in
contact with him for any reason, she would be in a precarious
position with the social services, which would have to decide
whether her unborn child would need to be put on a child at risk
register. They did this at birth to protect them from the mother, as
well as an abusive father. Saffy made it clear this wouldn’t be an
issue and the matter was dropped. They discussed what was
happening for her right then, the need to maintain the treatment
program, which she wasn’t finding too difficult and the subject of
her alias was brought up. Saffy was bothered by the fact she was
telling anyone she met her name was Sandra, but whenever Mali
addressed her it was as Saffy. If anyone in the hall had met her
before, this might have confused them, and they agreed that from
now on Mali would use Sandra at all times.
They went on to discuss benefits. She had been put on the very
basic requirement to start off, just so she had some money for food
and toiletries. Now they could look at what she should be entitled
to, which according to Mali would increase her income
considerably and maybe allow her to get that TV she had
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mentioned at the flat the last time they met. The last thing they
went through was the various groups and activities she could
access. There were a few pre-natal groups and drug users support
groups, along with the purely social get-togethers like coffee
mornings. She gave her a few hand outs with details of where and
when these things were happening, then got up to escort her out.
She felt dismissed and they hadn’t talked about anything around
her problems, the emotional stuff and her troubles connecting to
her peers. This wasn’t on the agenda apparently, and she was left
feeling underwhelmed by the whole thing. She missed Fiona, she
had been interested in her as a person not just a case in her list of
clients.
As she wandered back through the lunchtime crowds, she was
unaware of a man staring at her from across the road. She didn’t
notice him speeding up to get in front of her, then crossing over
and walking towards her to get a better look. She was lost in
thought as he turned around and made his way up alongside her.
She noticed him then, just a guy on his phone, nothing of note and
she carried on walking unhindered. He wasn’t speaking on the
phone as he walked past her, he was using the camera feature to
get a shot of her. He smiled to himself as he drifted into the crowd
behind her, he would see where she went and if he was right, this
would be a proper earner for him.
He licked his lips in anticipation of the drugs he would be able
to afford with his reward. She wandered into a few shops along the
way, mostly charity shops and she did buy a few things. These
days it was considered okay to buy in these shops. In the past it
was a playground insult thrown around to embarrass each other,
“Your mum shops in Oxfam” was usually followed by a long
exchange of what was called mum cussing. Nowadays, the wealthy
middle class ladies often shopped in them and usually spent an
afternoon a week helping out as well.
Her little foray into shopping over, she made a quick stop at
the local grocery shop. It was one of the big supermarkets new
Metro stores, a mini version usually at the same prices as the main
store. They were a boon for busy people, but could sound the death
knell for the other local shops, which were forced to lower their
prices to try and compete. She got some milk and a few other bits.
The stranger watched from the huge window, checking she hadn’t
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clocked him. She was a lovely looking girl he mused, he wouldn’t
have minded a go on her himself in fact, if she wasn’t clearly so
important he might have had a crack. She wouldn’t say yes, he
knew that, but he didn’t always listen to their no’s. She wouldn’t
be the first he had to convince to agree, a few slaps and the swish
of a blade were his style of sexual lubricant, but this one was out of
bounds wasn’t she?
Saffy had an uncomfortable feeling as she passed through the
park at the end of her road. She couldn’t quite understand what
was bugging her but she had an idea. The meeting had been
unfulfilling, and although she was going to be better off
financially, and that was good, she felt that nothing real was sorted
out. Mali was just going through the motions. The amount of time
she checked her phone was unprofessional, and she seemed
preoccupied the whole time, umming and ahhing as she tried to get
her train of thought back. This would be the cause of the nagging
feeling she had in the back of her mind, wouldn’t it? As she headed
up the street, the tidy terraced houses showing a pride in the
neighbourhood she hadn’t seen in Leeds or London, she mused
about her situation. She had a nice little flat, a friendly helpful
neighbour and if she worked at it, some new friends who apart
from the odd bit of weed, weren’t into anything she shouldn’t be
involved with.
The government was paying her rent and giving her money to
survive. She would be able to get on with her degree after the baby
was born, according to Fiona and although she had lost touch with
her family for now, she might be able to face them again once she
had time to heal herself of the shame.
Dad would understand in the end, he had a forgiving nature
and she was never in any doubt about his love for her. She hadn’t
thought about him recently, apart from when she was looking for a
stick to beat herself with. How much he would hate her, the shame
and embarrassment he would be feeling and this sort of stuff. He
had been away fighting when she left for university in the autumn.
He would be in danger every day and she hadn’t thought about the
risks involved at all, was he okay out there? She knew he was in
the regiment, but not really what that meant for him on a day-today
basis, he was elite and she always considered this to mean he
only did the special jobs. He would be kept back at the base
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waiting for his special super soldiering skills to become necessary,
he would be fine, Tom was with him wherever he was, and he
wouldn’t let anything happen to him would he? Good old Tom, she
wondered what he would have to say, if anything. He was a quiet
man but he had always taken time to speak to her, encourage her in
her studies, and listen to her silly teenage problems. Usually,
without any useful idea of what to do, but he cared and she loved
him for it. Tom would be fine with it eventually. Everyone would
be shocked and outraged at first wouldn’t they? But some would
be more interested in her and her baby than what she had been up
to. At least Dad and Tom would be on her side and she could rely
on them when the time came for her to speak to them again.
Her mum wasn’t someone she considered very much. She had
no right to judge, she was a whore herself as far as she was
concerned, and having been around when the wives of men Dad
knew through work had been caught cheating, her catty comment’s
and holier than thou attitude had always annoyed Saffy. She would
call them all the names under the sun and make statements she had
no right to, but when the boot was on the other foot, she denied
that it was her fault. He was always away, and didn’t show her
enough affection when he was back. She even implied he had only
bothered to come back to just be with Saffy, that they had a
conspiracy against her and they had ultimately been to blame.
She remembered the huge row they had had the night before
she left for London. She had only remained under her roof out of
expediency, there was simply nowhere else to go. Tom had offered
her use of his place but that was in Hereford and not really an
option, a nice offer though. She had come back from a farewell
drink with some old school friends, sober, as she didn’t really like
to drink in those days. Her Mum on the other hand was far from
abstemious; there was a half-full bottle of wine on the coffee table
and an empty one beside the couch. Saffy had tried to ignore her
and just head up to her room, the final pieces of packing had to be
done anyway, but she hadn’t allowed it. Ellen had stumbled into
the hall and put her arm across the bottom of the stairs to bar her
way.
“So, I suppose you’ve spent the evening telling all your toffee
nosed friends about what an evil cow I am? I bet you love it don’t
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you? Having the high ground over me. You and your Dad always
talking on the phone about me, and what I’ve done.”
Saffy tried to push past her, but Ellen barged her backwards
towards the living room.
“Don’t try and deny it, you sanctimonious cow, what’s the
matter the cat got your tongue? Can’t be bothered to speak to your
own mother when she asks you something?” Saffy tried to bite her
tongue, she knew her mum couldn’t handle her drink and there was
nothing to be gained in having it out there and then.
“Look mum, I’ve got stuff to do and can’t be bothered to
speak to you in this state, just go to bed or carry on drinking
whatever you feel better with, just leave me alone to get on with
things.”
“This state, this state what are you implying? That I’m too
drunk to have a conversation with my only daughter, you really
think you’re better than me don’t you?” she was swaying slightly
as she ranted, “Going off to university and living in London, well
without me, this wouldn’t be happening. Who do you think pushed
you to do your school work, sat and taught you to read while your
dad was off, God knows where defending the realm, what did he
ever do? Hey, tell me that, where was he when you had parents
evenings and plays? Off with his mates, that’s where.”
This was too much for Saffy, her dad sacrificed a lot to make
sure they had the wherewithal for her to go to the grammar school,
he was a legitimate hero, and she had no right to belittle him,
regardless of her drunken state.
“Shut your mouth about him, you stupid bitch. He was always
there when it mattered, when I needed him he made things happen,
who do you think paid for all this stuff you surround yourself with?
My uniforms and come to think of it, tuition fees, not you, that’s
who.”
Saffy was going red in the face as she batted back her jibes.
“Your job is just a way to pick up men apparently. Even now
it’s him paying for everything, God knows why, I fucking
wouldn’t if I were him, just shut up, go and drink yourself silly and
leave me alone. I don’t want or need you and neither does my
dad.”
She instantly fell back under the weight of her mother’s slap.
She hadn’t meant to do it with such force but the drink had
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muddled her and it was enough to knock her back. Saffy rubbed
her reddened cheek; it throbbed as she tried to get her head round
what had just happened. Her immediate thought was to strike back,
she had been taught by the very best how to deliver a punch but it
wasn’t an attacker she was preparing to hit, it was her mother.
“You just made your last mistake old woman, don’t ever
expect to hear from me again, understand me? Never.”
She was shouting now and her self-restraint was at breaking
point.
“I don’t care if you die all alone. Don’t call me or try and get
in touch, it’s over between us, you get me? And be fucking clear
on this. The only reason I haven’t punched your lights out is Dad
would be upset if I did, and unlike you, I care about his feelings.
Now get out of my fucking way, or I might just change my mind.”
Saffy pushed past her, and that was the last she saw or heard
from her. She was laid out on the sofa as she left the next day, and
Saffy didn’t even look in to see if she was okay, she didn’t care.
The flat was warm and inviting as she put the bags down and
went to put the kettle on. The small kitchen window looked out of
the side of the house and she noticed a man walking by very
slowly. He was on his phone and she thought she had seen him
somewhere before, he might have been a neighbour, that was
likely. She had seen some of them wandering about but hadn’t
taken the time to get to know who was who.
Once she was comfortable with her alias, she would begin to
get involved in the community. She had always been an active part
of the local scene back home and she knew there were advantages
to being one of the local faces, people looked out for you and you
knew what was going on without the need to get a paper.
As she finished making the tea, she had another look, he had
gone, as expected. The uneasy feeling continued for the rest of the
day until Sally came up with some homemade lasagne for Saffy,
and they chatted about everything and nothing. The easy relaxed
mood gave her a nice feeling inside and there was no room for the
negative vibe she’d been harbouring.
In the meantime, her newly appointed stalker had made
contact with his dealer. It was him who had shown him the picture
and asked him to keep an eye out for anyone who looked like her.
He had shown it to most of his clients, a request from further up
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the chain he said. There were financial rewards, but no amount had
been mentioned, so he took the opportunity to negotiate before
revealing all he had to tell. He was happy with the five hundred
pounds he had got, they had said only two to start with, so he felt
triumphant and very clever with his feat of negotiating. The details
were passed along with a picture message of the girl and this
would seal the deal.
He would be paid next time he went for a baggie, which would
be in the morning he guessed. He would keep an eye on the pretty
black girl for now, just ensuring the safety of his new income
stream. He liked the looks of her and was trying to talk himself
out of paying her a visit, before whoever was looking for her got
their hands on her, and she disappeared out of his life.
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Chapter Twenty­Two
Tom had been in terrible condition when Ricky had rocked up
at the ambulance entrance to St Thomas’s Hospital. There had
been a few protesting voices from waiting patients as he bypassed
the triage system and ran him into the curtained off area where he
knew help would be. They took one look at Tom’s bloody face and
limp broken body and rushed into action. This had been two days
ago, and he was only just able to realise where he was and what
had happened to him. His last memory was of the big Russian
tying him to the chair, the darkness and the smell of damp and stale
hops. Ricky tried to fill in the gaps but he didn’t have much to add,
he had only been aware of the situation when the phone rang and it
wasn’t Tom on the other end.
Ricky had told the doctors he had been attacked and he found
him in this condition. He didn’t want any police involvement if it
could be helped, after all he had killed a man, as far as he knew.
This didn’t bother him in the way he imagined it would. He read
stuff about soldiers having serious problems once they took a life
and people who had done so accidentally really struggling with it.
He on the other hand, was glad he’d done it. He assumed that
Mikhail had been one of Tom’s attackers and rough justice was the
way ahead as far as Ricky was concerned. He was going to talk to
Tom about it, he assumed he had killed men before, he must have,
right? He was SAS after all.
The cancer had made little difference to the treatment he was
receiving at the moment. He had suffered quite a bad concussion
due to constant blows to the head, his left thigh was fractured and
his shinbone on the same leg was broken clean through. He had a
few broken ribs that made things a bit worse on the overall health
front, and he was very weak. His breathing was supported as he
was struggling to fill his lungs, partly due to the ribs and partly
because of the tumour. He was back in a hospital bed, linked to a
drip and some different versions of the machines Jules had been
wired to. Ricky flitted about all the time checking that Tom was
comfortable, then disappearing to make sure Benedict was being
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looked after. He had paid a mate to look after things although Ben
was desperate to go and see Tom, Ricky was aware there wasn’t
any point until he woke up and could understand what was going
on. It was about mid-day when Tom became aware of the nurse
changing his fluids drip. The actual change over wasn’t painful, the
cannula was already installed into the back of his hand. It was
when she jogged his arm and this in turn aggravated his ribs, that
he awakened with a wince and he swore out loud. The nurse
jumped, blushed in embarrassment, then went to get a doctor to see
him.
Ricky turned up halfway through the examination to find a
young African gentleman trying to answer Tom’s questions. He
was utterly confused at this point, not knowing where he was or
why, who had put him there, and what had happened to his squad.
Ricky tried to calm him as the young doctor sent for some
sedatives to be administered.
“Tom it’s me, Ricky, you remember me, yeah.”
He didn’t know whether to remind him they were brothers or
not.
“Ben’s mate, you’re staying at my house, remember? We were
working together to find Saffy when you got hurt.”
The doctor left the room to find the nurse.
He leant in closer, “You were tied up in that beer cellar, do
you remember that? The big fella with the tattoos was there, he had
been hurting you, can you remember any of this, mate? Please tell
me you do, Tom?”
He looked at Ricky for a second, confused at first then
recognition hit him.
“Rick, you’re my brother right? I’m not making this up am I?
We went to that club, that’s all I know, there was a girl and she
was naked, then someone hit her and then you came in, at least I
thought it was you. I can’t seem to find it all, there was a big guy,
Yuri, he and the other guy were there and asking me stuff, with
someone else I think but then all I remember was you being there
and that’s it.”
Ricky was chuffed that he’d remembered their relationship.
After all that had happened, it proved it must have meant
something to him if it was the first thing he said.
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“Listen Bruv, we need to keep things quiet on what happened.
I’ll tell you why later, but we can’t be having the Old Bill
involved. They might come to see if you know who attacked you,
but if you play dumb they’ll write it off as a waste of their efforts
and leave us alone, okay? So, say nothing and we’ll talk later,
yeah?”
The nurse came in clearly not happy at being disturbed from
her tea break, the doctor followed and he tried speaking to Tom
again.
After a five-minute discussion about what hurt and where,
Tom was given a sedative and some pain relief. Ricky stayed
throughout and when they left them alone, he made a quick call to
let Benedict know he was back with them, albeit high on whatever
it was they gave him.
The oncologist made a fleeting visit a little later to see if there
was anything, he needed to do, but the injuries were the most
pressing problem and as long as he got the medication in with
everything else they were giving him, he could be left in the care
of the intensive care team for now.
As things settled down, Tom recalled more of the traumatic
events that had led him to this point. The gas canister smashing
into his leg, a punch from Yuri, knowing he’d cracked a rib as the
sound carried into the room, all this was bad, but he had been
trained to take this punishment. They had a whole section devoted
to interrogation and the likes. What haunted him was he couldn’t
remember if he spoke about Saffy. He didn’t think he had, they
seemed to suspect he was on a very specific persons payroll but he
wasn’t sure what went down towards the end. He was aware of the
alarm, if that was what it was, and could remember flashes of
Ricky and the door smashing in, but no more, it frustrated him and
didn’t help in his recovery.
Things had moved on a bit while he was laid up. The phone he
had taken with him called Alf again, this time there was no
pretence of friendliness. They had raged down the line, the death
of Mikhail was going to be avenged, whoever they were, the pair
of them were as good as dead and if necessary he would move
heaven and earth to get to them.
Ricky had baited him a bit. It was a different Russian as far as
he was aware, he told them how they could kiss his ass and how
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the next time they spoke would be on the day that they died. He
revelled in it, even going so far as to insult Mikhail to him. Telling
the Russian how Mikhail cried, as he crushed the life out of him.
Yuri was totally apoplectic by the time he rang off, while
Ricky was elated. He had a new number that would be of use, the
fool hadn’t bothered to use the feature on his phone to hide his
own number. Vitaly had made the same mistake, and he was
keeping them in contacts for when Tom was able to utilise the
information.
After a couple more days, Tom was doing physio on his
damaged leg, trying to get about on a pair of crutches, so he could
be released home. He was taken by ambulance to the Royal
Marsden for his appointment there and this had been a tough one.
The lady he saw was apparently an eminent specialist in the field
of lung cancer, she was very posh and a little haughty he thought,
and not the least bit sympathetic to Tom’s position on his
treatment. She could not understand his refusal to undergo
chemotherapy, it may reduce the size of the tumour and miracles
did happen in the world of medicine.
She thought he should also take the opportunity of having
radiotherapy, which wasn’t anywhere near as intrusive, but he
wouldn’t budge. She was exasperated by his stubbornness and by
the end she was almost shouting to get him to accede to some of
her advice.
The facts were, he would have a very slow and painful death,
unless he used some of the therapies suggested. He would of
course have access to pain relief, which would work to a point, but
as his lungs became congested, his ability to take in oxygen would
diminish and this would cause all sorts of complications, not least
hypoxia. He did his best to explain his own thinking behind his
decision. He didn’t want to come across as ungrateful for the
concern and care offered, but he was a soldier and as such he
wanted to fight this thing alone. It was a load of bollocks but he
figured she might buy this, he couldn’t explain about his
unfinished business, the need to be as alert as possible in order to
make the best use of his talents, for the longest possible time. He
did concede he would think long and hard about treatment and get
back to her.
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He smiled as he remembered making the same deal in
Birmingham. He pondered the series of events in which he
managed to sort out this mess, then he might be able to use the
treatment to get him a few weeks longer with Saffy and Ricky.
They should meet he decided, they were practically family now.
The trip to the Marsden acted as a spur for Tom, he was very
much on a deadline, the pun wasn’t lost on him and he had to get
moving. Firstly, he needed to get rid of the Russians, both of them
preferably, but Vitaly at the very least. To do this, he would need
to lean on Ricky more and more. This worried him for two
reasons, when the whole thing came to an end he would be gone,
completely avoiding any consequences. Ricky on the other hand
would be very much alive and subject to reprisals whether physical
or legal.
Secondly, he was trained in this stuff, revelled in it even, and
Ricky, while clearly a keen amateur, was not. There was real risk
involved and he couldn’t live with himself if he got his brother hurt
or worse. He weighed things up while lying on the bed in the back
of his transport back to St Thomas’s. The spectre of failure was
very real to him and there was not an option that didn’t involve
getting help, and who else could help him?
He knew Mo would do his bit if called upon, but he wasn’t
any use physically. His skill sets was very much information and
the use of it. Ben was blind and no one else in the world was able
or available. He did toy with the idea of getting in touch with some
old mates from the regiment. He knew a couple in London on body
guarding jobs, but this would be spreading things out, and again he
couldn’t guarantee their safety any more than he could Ricky’s, it
would be asking too much he decided.
Finally, he was passed as able by the physio team and he went
back to Ricky’s place. This time, Ricky had arranged the lounge
into a room for Tom. The stairs would be too much and the
bathroom wasn’t as private, but you had to make the best in these
situations, didn’t you?
Amber had helped him bring stuff down, but that was the total
sum of her efforts. She wasn’t interested in what Ricky was up to.
It was a secret he said so she just shrugged and got on with her
own stuff. He was a little frustrated she hadn’t badgered him to
know more, but that was Amber through and through, self-centred.
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Once up the steps to the door Tom managed to get about
easily enough on the crutches. He was just about strong enough to
carry his own weight, which was declining by the day and despite
the ribs and the fact he got tired quickly he was happy enough
going from the main TV room to the lounge and the bathroom. He
didn’t have to worry about the kitchen as Ricky catered for his
every need in that department.
They had just finished watching one of Ricky’s favourite
films, an all action affair with Bruce Willis in hero mode, and Tom
decided it was time for a chat about what was going to happen. He
had been working up to this throughout the movie, even managing
to blot out Ricky’s constant refrains of “ This bits good” or “ I love
this, watch this bit.”
By the end, he had managed to get the gist of events enough to
pass any pop quiz his younger brother might throw his way.
“Mate, we need to talk. I don’t really know how we are going
to go about things and we need to be sure you know what’s likely
to happen. Hopefully, it’ll be happening very soon.” Ricky hit
mute on the remote control, there was just a news story about the
girl found in the Thames. Police had started to think it could be a
serial killing but wouldn’t release any more information yet.
Tom looked to see if he was nervous or unsure, but the really
obvious thing was he looked excited.
“Listen Bruv,” he liked to say this, and had been using it since
the hospital, “I will do whatever it takes, okay? Whatever you need
of me, just ask? In fact you don’t even have to ask, just tell me and
I’ll do it.” his willingness to please was nice but worrying in equal
measure.
“Okay, Rick, but just know this isn’t a game. There may be
more deaths, hopefully more Russians and not ours, but we have to
be prepared to do the hard stuff.”
Ricky was getting more excited as he went on, worrying Tom
even more.
“We do it even if we think it’s wrong at the time. There is a
long game here and that’s Saffy being safe and well, and able to
come back to us. Well more importantly, her mum, you do get
that?”
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He was nodding like a kid being told the rules of a play park,
they pretended to have heard, but all they really had in mind was
going the wrong way up the huge slide.
“First things first mate. We need to make sure they can’t trace
anything back to you. I’m expendable in this, I’m a goner
regardless, but you’ve got to continue after this, to look after Ben
and Amber. We can’t have anyone getting to your home or loved
ones, so extra care must be taken to cover our paths, for instance
that mobile number they have for you, where’s it registered to?”
Ricky grinned, he was already thinking ahead of the game.
“It’s not registered to anyone, I buy them online from Hong
Kong with a set amount of credit, once they’re used up, you dump
them. It’s not my regular contract phone, I’ve got the iPhone
remember?”
This made Tom smile, as he usually did whenever Ricky
showed he was a whole lot smarter than he let on.
“Well, we might need another couple of those if you’ve got
them, I’ll need those numbers you snagged off of the Russians.
Hopefully, they’re not as smart as you, otherwise they’re so
arrogant they don’t worry about little things like mobile security.”
This had crossed Tom’s mind before, they were very lax in his
opinion.
“Which wouldn’t surprise me one bit, I have a mate who can
find out some very interesting things with just your mobile
number, I’ll introduce you when we meet up. Now, on to other
business. Can you really get hold of a gun? I mean a proper one
not some sawed off shotgun.”
In answer, Ricky climbed off the sofa and went to the shelves
at the back of the room. They were slung up in the recess by the
fireplace, high up there was a wooden box, which he pulled down
and took over to the coffee table. Tom suspected he was going to
pull out a flintlock or some old fashioned six-shooter from an
antique fair, he was wrong, very wrong indeed.
“These babies are as clean as a whistle, and I’ve got enough
ammo to take on a small council estate, which is kind of why I’ve
got them really.”
He was pleased as punch by Tom expressions, curious but not
mocking or doubting in anyway. The box opened to reveal a
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yellow dusting cloth typical of almost every housewives-cleaning
kit. He pulled the top edge back to reveal two automatic pistols.
“These are Glock 19s, I’ve got a spare mag for each as well,
will they do you reckon?” He was being facetious of course, but
Tom whistled with admiration, he was more than familiar with the
Glock, in all their guises and had used them over the years on
many operations.
“Fuck me Ricky, you don’t do things by halves do you?
Where the hell do you get military grade kit, in the arse end of
South London?”
“That’s a secret Bruv, which I might tell you some time.”
Tom had used the exact phrase many times over the last week
or so, whenever Ricky asked anything he couldn’t or wouldn’t tell
him, now he was the one left hanging.
“Seriously though mate, these are pretty serious fire power
and we might find ourselves having to take another life, are you
prepared for this, the possibility of jail time and all that?” He was
nodding as he picked up the topmost gun and waved it in the
lamplight.
“More than ready to mate, after what these bastards have done
to you and this poor Saffy girl, I out and out want to take their
lives, I mean it Tom I really do.”
With this said, Tom went into details of how he intended to
proceed, first things first was to get the numbers to Mo, which he
did via a text. This meant no danger of being overheard or wire
tapped and it was instantly deleteable if need be. This done, he
took Ricky to the workshop where the plastic water containers he
had acquired were, the bottles themselves were useless, but they all
sat in an aluminium tin shaped around them. These were the reason
for buying them. They unpacked them and took out the other
materials; they worked on into the night, all the while discussing
their next move.
Tom was awakened the next morning by a text coming
through on the phone he had used to text Mo.
It said simply, “Job done, same time same place.”
He looked at the clock on the phones main screen; it was ten
to eight. He must have been in the office when he received the text
to have information this quickly. Whatever, he had about forty-five
minutes to get ready, negotiate the steps down and get to the coffee
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shop. He picked up the other mobile he had left over from his time
upstairs, and hit the redial button. Ricky answered after a minute of
ringing, clearly dazed and confused.
“Up you get Rick? We’re going to meet my mate I told you
about this morning, chop chop.”
With this done, he pulled the crutches over towards him and
went to the bathroom. He wasn’t shaving these days but he still
had a routine to follow, shower, toothbrush and if he was lucky, a
nice long shit. He had been regular as clockwork before, but not
now, constipation was a side effect of the painkillers. Everything
he did these days hurt like hell, the act of brushing his teeth
involved way too much movement and his ribs gave him the good
news every time he thrust the brush across his mouth.
As he finished dressing, Ricky came out of the kitchen with a
cup of tea for him. They exchanged a good morning nod as he
slurped the hot drink and Ricky rammed toast into his mouth while
trying to put a shirt on. All the preliminaries done, they went to the
car, this took a good five minutes as helping Tom down the
entrance steps wasn’t an easy task. The car was brought from
around the corner and they were at Waterloo five minutes later.
They stuck the car in the waiting bays, this wasn’t likely to be a
long chat and if needed Ricky could always go and keep an eye on
it. The worst that could happen was a penalty notice and fifty quid
was nothing compared to the stakes they were dealing with now.
They sat themselves at the same table he had used before.
Ricky went and got the coffees while Tom kept an eye out for Mo.
The short walk into the station had taken a lot of his energy and he
was glad to be sitting down for a while. Mo went past the window
twice before he finally came in, did a double take when he saw
Ricky sitting there, but sat straight down, not bothering to buy a
drink.
“This is my little brother Ricky, Ricky this is a good friend,
Morris.”
He blanched at the use of his proper name but smiled and
offered his hand.
“Nice to meet you, mate. Tom you look like absolute shit,
mate. Have you been street fighting again?”
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He looked at Ricky then back to Tom, he was checking things
were on the level and he was not under duress or anything, Tom
nodded at his brother and this was accepted.
“I don’t have long and I’m assuming that by being here Ricky,
that you know what we’re about?” He waited for any objections
then continued, “I have found this stuff out very easily to be
honest, there’s a list of recent calls and their billing addresses. I
think Dudayev’s is actually his home address believe it or not? The
other one is a business account for a leisure business address on
Whitfield Street W1, which is their Bar Ruskie I think. Couldn’t
get locations for them, but I have set a flag up on them, so if they
make a call we can get an approximate location. There’s details in
there of how to access this.”
He handed over another brown envelope.
“I’m trusting you big time here Tom, not to let on where you
gained access to this information. The phone bills would have been
easily found out by a half decent hacker, but the locating stuff is
pretty difficult to come by.”
He stood up and shook hands with them, then left looking
around as he went. Tom admired his professionalism, he was
technically on safe ground, but he was always on guard. If
everyone worked as hard as Mo, leaks would never happen.
Tom was feeling pretty pleased with himself as he made his
way back to the car, apart from the agony using crutches with
broken ribs entailed.
There was a member of station staff tutting and looking at her
watch, but no ticket. Ricky gave her a big grin as he apologised,
using Tom’s disability as an excuse for the time taken. Suitably
charmed, she smiled and they drove off into London’s rush hour
traffic.
Having anyone’s home address was like gold dust. They were
extremely stupid if they hadn’t even bothered to take the most
basic of security measures to prevent this kind of thing, but they
had also taken a hostage and tortured them on their own premises.
These guys didn’t have a clue about the powers of forensic
policing these days. If he had been found in a river and anyone,
this imaginary Alf for instance, could tie him to their bar, they
would have been caught like fish in a barrel. They were either so
confident they were beyond reproach, or they were just plain
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idiots. It didn’t pay to assume the latter, so he had to plump for the
former. He had to put any concerns about where they stood in
terms of culpability to one side, if they were dead, he would have
no reason to worry about any special relationships that they may
have courted.
Ricky took him back to the house where they went over the
papers Mo had left them. Ricky fired up his PC and went to work
on a few bits and pieces he thought might be useful. Tom was well
aware by now how useful he could be when he turned his hand to
it.
Tom tried to picture the clubs as he remembered them, which
considering how he ended up may not be one hundred percent
accurate. Would he be able to get into them again unhindered?
Which of the two was the best for his needs? And how could he get
them both there at the same time while still being able to control
the situation to his advantage? This was going to take a hell of a lot
of planning and as with all plans no small amount of good fortune.
235

Chapter Twenty­Three
The loss of Mikhail was not a bother to Vitaly. He had been
the only one of his men he couldn’t be sure about, not that he had
the complete trust of all of them, at least three others were likely to
side with Yuri if it came down to it. He knew who they were and
would keep them away until he could sort things out. One way or
another he had to assert his authority and ensure there was no
doubt about who was running things and where their ‘Bread was
buttered’, as the English said. He still had a nagging doubt about
the man who had escaped. He no longer believed it was Toby
Green. They had been naïve in their assumption he was carrying
genuine documents, but he had been there for something and not
knowing what plagued him. The search for Saffy had slowed down
as they waited for Petr, the Kosovo computer expert who did
things for them now and then, to hack into social services. There
was a backup plan in the pipeline. They knew who had the
cleaning contract for their floor and would send in their own
“cleaner” with the regular team. This would be risky and maybe
like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it had to be done. One
way or another, they would find her and bring her back kicking
and screaming. No quiet anonymous death for her. She would be
punished in the full glare of the other girls, the punishment would
be slow and tortuous, until every girl there knew the cost of
defiance, then she would be killed. Thinking about her dead didn’t
have the same effect he usually got from this sort of thing, it
wasn’t new to him, this way of meting out punishments. It usually
gave him a thrill when he imagined the act, this was part of the
pleasure, the anticipation of something so cruel would be like an
arousal to him, but in this case, nothing.
Yuri had been affected by the loss of his man, they weren’t
especially close as far as he knew, so why was it concerning him,
what could have been the bond between them if not treachery? He
could not imagine any scenario where they would be involved in
anything together that would bind them together so strongly. He
had set aside his fears, but the stranger spying on them and the fear
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of reprisal from Wainright, had made him take to the drugs again
and this always had the effect of increasing his Paranoia.
As Yuri spent his time trying to find out who had been so
interested in them, Vitaly made plans of his own. He would make
sure he was firmly in charge of everything very soon and he had
started the ball rolling with Amsterdam. They would be sending a
few extra guys over as soon as they could get their fake papers
lined up.
Yuri called him with a situation report, they were concerned
by the man’s ability to withstand the abuse without talking and this
set them thinking about Saffy. She had told them about her dad and
his best mate being soldiers. She never mentioned anything
specific, but if they had military training they may have been
trained to handle this stuff, but why would they be bothering to
play games with them? Surely they would have made a full frontal
assault. Furious fathers didn’t usually spend time planning, did
they?
Anyway, this man was no soldier, by the looks of him, he was
big, yes, but not impressive or bulky, also he was very pale and
pasty looking, the Army was all off in the desert these days,
weren’t they? He didn’t seem fit at all, he was too thin, no meat on
his bones, he couldn’t be a soldier in that shit state surely? The
idea it could all be related to Saffy intrigued him, but it sounded
too far-fetched to be real. One thing he knew that Saffy didn’t was
that her father was dead, this bit of information had cropped up in
Yuri’s first call to her mum. She had started the conversation with
something like, “If this is about Jules, he’ dead so fuck off”, or
words to that effect.
He knew Saffy wouldn’t have been able to find out about it
without contacting her mum, she had made it clear she wasn’t in
touch with anyone from back home, it was because of her shame at
her lifestyle she said. The same went for Tom, she couldn’t face
his judgement on what she’d become, she would never have got in
touch with him, if she even knew how to. Vitaly had dumped her
old mobile as soon as she came to live at his place, she was wasted
at the time and when she asked about it he feigned ignorance, she
had sobbed for ages, all her numbers were on there
All things considered, this was going to be a landmark week
for Vitaly. He was hoping to have details of the whereabouts of
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Saffron, Yuri would be brought to book and his own brand of
enforcer was due to arrive soon. Yes, there were some outstanding
problems but he had always managed to come out on top before,
and with good luck and careful planning, he would do so again. He
was relaxed and thought about having some Heaven to aid the
feeling, but he needed to keep his wits about him for now.
The three guys who were suspicious were still in London. That
would change tomorrow with a fake mission to Leeds, he would
send them to find what they could at Ellen's, she hadn’t been back
to the house according to his sources, since the other two Yuri
wannabes had disappeared. Hadn’t Mikhail been the third wheel in
that particular fuck up? He had originally thought them arrested,
but thinking about it now they may have gone to ground as part of
Yuri’s plans. The other option was they had been taken out there
and then, but by whom? Even if this Tom guy was there, he
couldn’t have handled two of his men, they were both ex-military
and he had seen them working out , they were like solid rocks, the
pair of them would have been a match for four men let alone one
and a house wife.
He wrote this off as a silly idea but it bugged him as to what
might have gone down. With this in mind, he thought it time for a
little investigation of his own. Yuri was supposedly on the case,
but he now realised he wouldn’t have been willing to give up the
truth if it didn’t favour his cause right now, this was all so very
confusing and he needed to be on the ball from now on. At least
until he had a clearer picture.
First things first were to look into the Leeds situation. He got
out the Rolodex from the desk drawer, it was coded but easily
worked out, you dialled the number and pressed a certain button a
couple of times and the correct one rang.
His conversation with his good friend Max in Leeds had been
interesting, and he was furious he had had to find this out himself,
when it wasn’t even difficult information to get hold of. Max ran a
number of businesses in the city, as well as Bradford and
surrounding areas, these included prostitution and drugs among
other ventures he spoke very little about. He was already aware of
the events at Ellen’s the week before, he had been visited by a
detective wondering if he recognised the tattoos on two dead
bodies as they were likely Russians. They clearly thought he knew
238

them, but he could honestly state he didn’t, the pictures he was
shown were of dead men and he did indeed recognise the ritual
tattoos as being Russian mob tats, but he kept it to himself. He just
assumed they had been freelancing and had come up short. No one
had been in contact about anyone, so he left it as it was.
The cops that he knew well had said a super soldier had taken
them out, it was the talk of the station gossips for days that an
actual SAS soldier had been in custody for a day. He was
remanded to comeback, but there was something going on and he
wasn’t expected to turn up. This worried Vitaly more than he
expected.
He did wonder why a man of 38 was still a serving soldier, on
active duty and only a sergeant, this could explain why she was
always so confident he would be able to punish him for his
treatment of her, he was elite Special Forces and this made him a
big deal to the Russians, who looked at the SAS as the best of the
best. They were the templates of every worthwhile Special Forces
in the world. Tom must have been the member they had in custody
and he had been released, the timings worked out, he would have
been able to get to London in plenty of time to have been spying
on Vitaly. Maybe he had joined the search for Saffy as well, and he
would have a better chance of finding her than his men, he knew
her likes and dislikes, where her friends had gone to university,
they may be sitting somewhere together right now laughing about
the fool he had been, how easily he had dealt with his men. No this
was unlikely, why would he come to the club as he did? He could
have gone with a firearm and shot his way through his men until he
got to Vitaly. No, he wanted to know what he knew, this was very
useful to know and he wondered how to use this to his best
advantage, one thing for sure, he wouldn’t include Yuri in the loop
on this train of enquiry.
Yuri was looking into where the stranger had been sent from,
without Vitaly’s new insight he was flying blind. He had suggested
the Saffy link, but he also couldn’t figure out why they would
bother spying on them if they were looking for her, it made no
sense. He reasoned that if they had her, it would have been a
straight out revenge attack, and if they didn’t, they surely knew
through Ellen that he and Vitaly didn’t have any idea where she
was either.
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He had made a few calls this morning and was driving over to
Camden to see Petr, he had a few days now and they wanted to
ensure he got the urgency of the situation. He was a good lad, very
clever but he could be easily distracted by his own projects, these
ranged from e-mail scams, to corporate espionage and extortion. It
amazed Yuri how much money could be made with a computer
and a little knowledge these days. He paid Vitaly to protect him
from unscrupulous members of the criminal fraternity that might
put pressure on him to aid them, he was freelance and being a
weak computer nerd left him exposed, without the muscle Yuri and
his crew could offer he would be a sitting duck.
The feelers were out there and he hoped he could get on with
the hacking side of things, while his many agents would uncover
something of use about their mysterious Toby Green. He wanted to
get to the bottom of this as soon as possible because he wanted to
meet this Alf character and take out his vengeance for Mikhail.
The bastard had laughed at him down the phone, insulting a good
man and making him feel helpless in the process, no one made him
feel that way, he would get him back.
Petr’s flat was on a terraced street leading off of the main
shopping area, it was lined with brightly painted windows and
doors, some were in a crappy condition but the majority had joined
the theme and gone to some trouble. Petr’s place was one of the
crappier ones.
He was a small man, skinny and had every hall mark of the
nerd, the silly glasses and bad skin, although he wasn’t
unattractive, his swarthy good looks were well hidden. He hardly
ever went anywhere to meet women anyway, and he could rely on
Yuri to hook him up with a girl if and when he needed to. The flat
was neat and tidy, spotless even.
Petr had something of an OCD and couldn’t function with
anything out of place. He rarely entertained visitors as they always
moved things and he would sit there worrying until they had left,
and he could replace things back to his own ordered state. Yuri
wasn’t there as a visitor and had no intention of touching his stuff,
which was all high-end gear. He bought everything from Ebay or
Amazon, he never physically went out to shop, even his groceries
were delivered twice a week. He had a decent amount of money
and very little in the way of outlay. The rent was paid by the
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council, he was technically disabled, very technically, so he
received the benefits allotted him along with a decent income from
his various scams and the odd commission from the likes of Vitaly.
This particular job was worth a grand to him, but it was probably
worth more. Now that he had been at it for two days, he wished
he’d asked for more. Maybe he would get Yuri to chuck in a girl as
a bonus payment.
“Any joy my friend? Have you got into the system yet?”
No hello or how are you, he thought, Russians were always so
stoic and business like.
“Good morning, Yuri. Nearly, very nearly. I was just about to
crack the last, well hopefully the last, of the protections on the
system, if you wait five minutes we may have some good news
even as you watch.”
This pleased the big man, which was always a good thing for
Petr, he had never found him anything but friendly, but he knew
better than to upset him. He was a giant and made him very
nervous when happy, so angry he would scare him to death.
“You get on with things, I get drink from fridge and come to
join you, yes?”
Petr didn’t like the idea of anyone in his immaculate kitchen,
but he couldn’t say anything and what could he do that was going
to make a mess by visiting the fridge?
The huge flat screen monitor was mostly black at the moment
with a small box of text in the centre of the screen, which seemed
to be randomly displaying letters and numbers. Every now and
then, one turned red and remained where it was, there were eight
digits in total and four were now red. As Yuri walked in, a fifth
had turned and Petr inwardly sighed in relief. Things were going
well and he was sure he would be into the system soon. It always
looked good if your client saw you break the protection as you did
it, so much of what he did was electronic, that there was rarely an
end product you could see, this was a rare case of just this
happening.
The final three took a few more minutes and Yuri took a seat
behind the special ergonomically designed one Petr used. He spent
almost every waking hour at this computer, so had invested a large
amount in a quality seating arrangement. With the code broken,
they had a screen open up with the official crest of the Croydon
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Borough social services department. There was a login box which
filled instantly with asterisks then it jumped straight into a desk
top, they were inside one of the computers on the floor they had to
be on.
Petr worked away through various folders and searches until
he found one under the name of a Fiona O’Brien. There were no
other Fiona’s so this must be the one. Yuri was excited by this
seemingly simple set of actions that could potentially open up the
whole search.
“Look up Saffron DeSavery. She was only just with her,
maybe a few weeks ago, she should be on there.”
Petr looked back over his shoulder at Yuri, annoyed he was
being told what to do. If he weren’t there, he would have been
doing exactly as he asked in the original call. What difference he
thought repeating his instructions was going to achieve, he had no
idea, philistines these Russians he thought, but good payers.
There was indeed a file named Saffron DeSavery, but opening
it revealed very little to them. She was in their care up until ten
days ago and had been transferred to another service, which wasn’t
named. It detailed the fact she had been at the refuge Karl had
found and where she had been in drug counselling. The last bit was
a shock to Yuri, she was three months pregnant and it was the
baby’s father she was on the run from. Pregnant, this changed
things in Yuri’s mind, he could just about bear the deaths of the
girls, it was a commodity thing. They were just things in the
scheme of things, and he had managed a while back to push any
squeamish feelings away, but a child was a whole different thing.
Saffy was a nice girl. He had been a little ashamed of what he’d
done to her, but it was work and that explained it away for him, but
now, she was carrying a baby, he would have to think about what
to do next.
“You want me to try and find where they sent her? It might
take a while longer but I can do cross referencing and stuff, there’s
always a trail in these things you just need to know where to look.”
Yuri nodded, lost in thought for a moment.
“Yes, find her, but don’t tell anyone else where she is if you
find her. Not even Vitaly. You understand? Just me, and tell no
one she is pregnant that is especially important, yes?”
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He pulled out his money clip and rolled five hundred pound in
fifties onto the desk.
“For your silence my friend, we understand each other, yes?”
Petr took the chance to try his luck.
“How about you send me a nice girl tonight? Maybe that
Annya? She was very nice last time.”
Yuri was a little pissed off by this, but he needed him on side,
so he agreed. He said very little as they discussed what would be
the next move and he emphasised the need for secrecy again as he
left.
243

Chapter Twenty­Four
As expected, Ricky had been true to his word and managed to
find all sorts of things about Vitaly Dudayev from his billing
address. They had the registration of a vehicle he had registered
with the DVLA and who insured it. He wasn’t on any electoral
registers but then that made perfect sense. He also had a Cable TV
contract and subscribed to a Russian language magazine twice
monthly, most interesting, was the fact he was a member of a club.
They assumed it was a gym and bar type set up as it was on
Grafton Way, which wasn’t the sort of place one found nightclubs
and the likes. This could be useless information if it was a typical
man thing of joining a Gym and never going, but it might just be
what they needed to get to him.
He despatched Ricky to have a look at the place, and see if he
could find a spot to watch for a few hours. It was a punt, but he
may be a regular and this would be priceless information to them
right now. With Ricky on stake out, he got on with constructing his
IED, he felt some trepidation about going down this route. Bombs
were a very messy business and there was always a risk of
collateral damage, innocent victims in real terms.
The club would have been an ideal target but he couldn’t be
sure he would be alone when he did it. The girls who worked there
might be training or the cleaner could be working. Bar Ruskie was
definitely out of the question, even with a small directed charge
there was a chance of structural damage and there was an upstairs
flat as well as constant traffic on the street outside. It would have
been callous to attempt anything there, and he may have been
willing to resort to the worst kind of methods, but he wasn’t going
down that road, no matter what.
With the details of the vehicle came the make and model, an
approximation, it just stated the brand name and engine size, but it
allowed Tom to do some research. It was a German SUV,
ostentatious and expensive, although they had records of him
owning the vehicle, there was no reference to him being the driver.
The insurance information seemed to be for an unnamed driver,
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which probably meant he was driven, rather than driving himself.
Was the driver a bodyguard or just one of the henchmen? The
difference was critical.
A bodyguard would be on alert for anything, he would have to
evaluate everything and if he were good at it, they would be very
hard pressed to get to him on the streets.
A henchman would most likely be there for show and have no
idea of risk assessments and such; he hoped it was the latter.
He had hundreds of possible plans going on in his head and
this detracted from the constant pain he was in. The painkillers
were pretty much at the top of the particular tree he was on, the
dose could be increased but he would start to lose some of his
faculties if he did go higher. There was morphine involved and too
much of that stuff would send you away with the fairies. He would
just have to handle it for now, and as long as he didn’t breathe or
move, he was fine.
Ricky rang to let him know it was exactly as they had thought.
It was trying to be a gentlemen’s club, but it was way too new and
down market to get that status. It was members only but he had
taken a brochure and found a café opposite where he could watch
quite easily. The owners were a Turkish couple and didn’t mind
him sitting there as long as he bought stuff.
Tom told him he had done well and he could hear the delight
at the compliment. It was this easy to make his day and Tom was
glad to do it. He called Ben to check if he was okay, then made
some tea and sat down to ponder the next move.
He must have fallen asleep in the armchair, because it was
getting dark outside when he was aware of the phone ringing. It
took a moment to register, it was Alf’s phone, this was going to be
interesting.
“Hello, who’s this?”
He couldn’t start the call off any other way, he wanted to
ensure it wasn’t just a wrong number, they were rare these days but
did happen.
“Yes, my friend, I would like to speak to Tom maybe. Maybe
you know him, yes or it is you?”
It was a Russian but not Yuri, there was something different
about this voice, an accent maybe, something indefinable right
there and then.
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“Who wants to know?”
He thought he knew but he was trying to wake up, he needed
time to think and playing ignorant bought time if nothing else.
“I think we both know who I am, don’t we? And I think
maybe this is Tom I speaking to, yes? I hope you feel better after
our little chat the other night? I was surprised you left, but maybe
Mikhail wasn’t as tough as we think, no?”
There was no value in denying who he was so he just carried
on.
“Well, he may have been tough, but there’s tough and then
there’s proper tough, get my meaning, Mr Dudayev?”
“Please call me Vitaly, and I will call you Tom. We have
Saffy in common this makes us friends in Russia. Saffy, you have
her no? Or are you looking also?”
So, he had no idea where she was, good, but how should he
play this.
“She’s fine where she is thanks, Vitaly.”
He emphasised the name, the insulting tone may not translate
well but he wanted it to be there regardless.
“I don’t think that’s true, if you knew where she was you not
come looking for me, maybe you come to kill me? Maybe, but you
not do anything like that, so me think you do not know any more
than I do, am I wrong? Tom”
He too knew how to use a name as an insult, but he had a
point and Tom needed to put him off the truth, as much as he could
without access to the facts.
“Put it this way, mate. We know she’s not with you which by
my reckoning makes her a whole lot safer than she could be, and
she’ll be in touch soon, she knows she can trust me and when she
does, we’ll see about visiting with you again. Not through the front
door next time though.”
Vitaly laughed at this bluster, this man was probably crippled
by their efforts the other night and wasn’t in great shape before
that, what threat could he offer.
“You make me smile, Tom. I think I will worry from now on,
maybe you will give yourself away with your walking stick, yes? I
know you are not with Saffy’s father, he’s dead is he not? Poor girl
will be very upset, if she ever finds out.”
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Tom was getting wound up, and the mention of Jules death
was almost too much. He fought back his vitriol, he wanted to give
Vitaly something to worry about because worried men made
mistakes, they did things they wouldn’t normally do and that
would be an opportunity to act.
“If you know who I am then chances are you know what I do?
And you’ll know what our speciality is, we have taken out men a
lot harder to find than you my friend, and be assured I’m not alone
on this one.”
He was enjoying where this thread was going, he should have
thought of it sooner.
“Jules had many friends and they are mightily pissed off at
you right now. I would sleep with one eye open from now on mate,
and be sure of one thing, when, not if, we find Saffy, she’ll not
have to even consider the chance of meeting you again, because
you’ll be nothing more than a stain on the streets of Soho.”
He pressed the button to end the call and tried to get his
temper back under control, he was aching all over, hungry and in
need of medication.
He was worried he had over stepped the mark with Vitaly. He
may have wound him up even more and made his search for Saffy
higher priority than before. He had no way of knowing what they
had already found out, in Tom’s case it was a blind alley.
They knew where she was most likely living before she went
missing, but nothing else, if she managed to evade the Russians
this long, then maybe she had help but who might have that been
from. His field of expertise was useless in this situation. He was
more about locating probable targets that had been identified and
pinpointed by the more specialised services. Yes, he could follow
up on information, use his skill set to manage operations, covert
observations and such, but this was out of his comfort zone by a
country mile, and the frustration was eating him up inside. He
should be happily sitting in some hospice high on whatever it was
they wanted to give him, maybe getting the odd visit from an old
mate and generally kicking back waiting for the inevitable. Yes, he
would never had found Ricky, and that would have been a shame
but he wouldn’t be sitting here, crippled, unable to breathe without
pain and up to his neck in the kind of trouble that made anything
he did while working seem trivial.
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Ricky called just as he was tucking into a bowl of soup. He
wasn’t up to eating anything more substantial and Ricky’s list of
takeaways didn’t have anything he fancied. He might have had
something later with Ricky but he was hungry for a change, so he
took the opportunity to eat when he could face it. He had to think
for a moment, there were now three separate phones to keep an eye
on. Ellen's one that did ring every now and then, but he just let it
divert, it was most likely friends of hers. The one he had just been
speaking on, Alf’s numbers, and then the one that was now
ringing, his own. Once he looked at the screen, he saw it was
Ricky and pressed the accept call button.
“Hello Bruv, you okay?”
He always started any conversation with this question since
their last trip to the hospital, it was nice, but a waste of valuable
time.
“Yeah, yeah, good mate, anything happening your end? I’ve
had an interesting chat but tell me your news first.”
“Well, I’ve just seen matey turn up, he had some goon with
him but he’s just parked the car in a bay and gone to the place on
the corner for a coffee I think. He’s definitely on his own for now,
could be useful don’t you think?”
This answered one of Toms main questions straight away, no
proper bodyguard would leave the vehicle unattended, just a goon
as Ricky quite rightly said.
“Yeah, that’s good to know, the car, is it one of them big
BMW’s, dark blue?”
“Yeah, that’s the one, the driver had trouble parking it, too
fucking big for these roads anyway, Muppet.”
He laughed, this was just a silly project for him right now, but
it would be getting as serious as cancer very soon, and they both
knew how serious that was.
“Keep eyes on, mate. Did you clock what time he went in?
It’ll help if we can find a pattern, so keep a check on what happens,
is the car nearby? Could you follow him when he leaves or would
it be too risky do you reckon?”
It would be good if he could but no great shame if it wasn’t
possible. Ricky probably wouldn’t have the skills to tail them
anyway but it was worth a go.
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“Not really, mate. I’m in the NCP round the corner, it would
take five minutes to get back here and he could leave anytime I
guess, I’ve got an idea about establishing a pattern, I’ll let you
know how I got on, what’s your news then?”
Tom went on to explain his chat with Vitaly, he included
nearly everything except the Jules stuff, it still hurt and he didn’t
see the value in airing it again. They ended the call with an
agreement that Ricky would be super careful. It was then Tom
discovered he had taken one of the Glock’s with him, the fool was
risking a serious prison sentence if he got caught and for nothing,
there was no chance of anything going down on this little jaunt. He
was angry with him but held it back, he was doing all this for him
and he didn’t have the heart to chastise him, everyone else seemed
to treat him like an overgrown kid, he didn’t want be one of them.
It was gone eight when Ricky came home. He rushed to the
toilet as soon as he shut the door and then headed into the kitchen
to put the kettle on. Tom was in front of the PC using the
information Mo had given them to locate where both men had been
using their mobiles. Vitaly’s had been in and around his home
address, he lived, worked and used the gym within a mile of each
other, so there was nothing to be gained from this at the moment.
Yuri though, had been moving about quite a bit. He was in
Camden for a while, two calls made there, then back to most likely
the club, then across the river to Croydon, this was odd, because
there wasn’t anything listed in their suspected operations in the
area. He had made half a dozen calls while there. About two hours
from the first to the last so he had been a while, maybe it was
worth looking into, if they had time, which in all honesty they
didn’t. Ricky was looking pleased with himself as he brought in
two steaming mugs of tea, Tom took the one offered and waited
for him to take a seat before asking the obvious.
“Okay, mate, I’ll bite, what’s got you looking so happy?
Amber been nice to you for a change?”
This tickled him.
“Nothing as unlikely mate. I managed to find out exactly when
our new friend uses the club, times and days, basically he’s there
most days about six thirty, give or take ten minutes.”
“How on earth did you find that out? You didn’t go doing
anything stupid did you? We spoke about this didn’t we Rick?”
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His smile was growing; he was clearly very impressed with
himself.
“I just went back in after he left and got chatting to the girl at
the desk, she had given me the brochure before. I gave her a bit of
flannel and asked if there was any discount for group’s
membership, told her I had a load of mates at work that all wanted
to join. As I thought she went back into the office to find out, and
while she was gone I went through the signing in book on the
counter. It’s only six weeks old, but he’s there on almost every
page, like I said around six thirty for about an hour every time. She
gave me some bumf and I smiled at her, gave her a wink and all
that, then just left, no one any the wiser.”
Tom was a little impressed with his ingenuity; he had saved
them a few days’ work and made things a little easier to plan.
“Well done mate, good work I mean it, that’s exactly the sort
of thing we get trained to do all the time, you’re a natural in this
stuff.”
The huge beaming smile was all Tom needed to see, he had hit
just the right note with that one. They chatted for a while then
Ricky true to form rang for some food, he was a good cook but he
didn’t have time with everything going on. While they waited for
the Pizza to be delivered, he rang Benedict, regaling him with his
day of undercover work.
250

Chapter Twenty­Five
Saffy was getting a bit worried, she seemed to have seen the
same guy a few times now, always near home and she couldn’t
decide if he was just a local guy who she would quite
understandably see about, or if something sinister was going on.
He was a scruffy looking bit of nothing much, but he was there
when she walked through the park and also when she walked back
from the supermarket. Sally had looked out when she saw him pass
the house and she said she recognised him from around town. He
wasn’t anything new, so she assumed he was not a risk to anybody.
Saffy had been feeling a little ill the last couple of days so she
hadn’t really done very much. She had some forms to fill in which
she did and posted them back, her drug counsellor was on annual
leave for a few days so she didn’t have any appointments to keep.
She found she was coping quite well without anything. She
still had mild cravings when she was bored or especially
depressed, but the cramps had gone and nothing terrible was
happening to her. She believed she might be able to deal with this a
lot better than she imagined. In the beginning, she had visions of
her sweating profusely as she screamed for more drugs in a padded
cell, a scene from a film she’d seen once. Today she was feeling a
bit better and wanted to pop out and check her newly opened
account, it had been tricky without any documents but the social
had contingencies for this sort of thing and they made it happen.
She had a card but could only draw money out, which suited her
fine these days, she had struggled even with just a debit card, so
having to actually have the money in your hand to pay for things
simplified her life greatly.
When she strolled out of her front door, she looked around to
see if the guy was about, he wasn’t so she shrugged it off as
Paranoia and went about her day. Unbeknownst to her, he was
there, he had realised he was being too overt and decided to lay
low, keep an eye out from a distance. He also knew she was just
going to the local shops, the high street at the most, so why follow
251

her? All he needed to do was ensure she stayed put in the flat until
whoever was coming for her turned up and he was in the gravy.
The money had been handed over as agreed, but he somehow
felt he should keep up his vigil, they certainly hadn’t asked him for
anything else, but he liked to look at her, especially after taking a
hit. He had vivid waking dreams about her. Those lovely long legs
wrapped around him, he shuddered at the thought.
He stayed where he was, behind a bush at the park until she
had turned the corner and gone out of sight. He was cold and
decided to have a little sit down on the bench. He should have been
paying attention because as he sat there day dreaming, Sally came
up and sat down beside him. He knew her from around town, some
of his mates bought from her, a bit of weed and some K every now
and then. She was no angel and he knew she lived downstairs from
Caramel, that’s what he called her because that’s what she
reminded him of, lovely sweet caramel, brown and glossy.
“Hello there, I just thought I’d say hi. Seen you around more
recently and I wondered if you were a neighbour now?”
This seemed a fair enough assumption, he didn’t like being
questioned by anyone but this seemed friendly enough, and he had
been sloppy, she had probably spotted him a few times wandering
back and forth.
“Nah, a mates moved in and I come to see him like, he’s out
now though, so I’m stuck here waiting for him, fucking cold ain't
it?”
“Well if you’re stuck for somewhere to keep warm you can
come into mine for a cuppa, I don’t bite or anything.”
Sally was one of life’s optimists. She believed everybody
deserved to be treated well and in return would treat others better.
She hadn’t encountered the likes of Stewart before, clearly.
“Well if you don’t mind, that’d be great, I don’t drink tea
though, just coffee, you got any?”
He saw this as a dual opportunity, he could get close to
Caramel and may be able to nick some stuff in the process. She
was a dealer, which meant drugs and money readily available.
“Yes, we can stretch to that I’m sure. I’m Sally by the way.”
She held out her hand for him to shake, he had the good grace
to wipe his on his filthy trouser first.
“Stewart, nice to meet you, Sally.”
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She ushered him into the warm living room and offered to take
his jacket, which was a dirty Army surplus coat, the camouflage
was mostly brown these days, he hadn’t washed it in the three
years he’d owned it. She took it, hiding her disgust quite well and
laid it over the radiator cover.
“It’ll warm up nicely for when you go back out of here, so it’s
coffee, any sugar love?”
“Yeah, three please, Sally. So you live here alone do you?”
He was sneakily looking about for anything he might think
was valuable as she turned her back into the kitchen.
“Yeah, always been alone love, what about you, do you have a
family anywhere? Someone who misses you?”
She was a true bleeding heart liberal, and thought he was most
likely homeless, which wasn’t true. He had a bunk at a hostel near
the seafront, but she wanted to show she cared for the less
fortunate.
“Nah, no one. Mum died yonks ago, and I didn’t have a dad as
such, just me. I did have a dog, but she caught something from
dead fish on the beach and she died, Petal her name was, a Staffy.”
He could see her shaking her head in sympathy, there wasn’t
anything on display he could see was worth anything, loads of nic
nacs, but no real value here. He needed to find the money or the
drugs, preferably both. He went across to a bookshelf full of books
on mysticism and new age practices, he knew a few dealers who
kept their gear in books to avoid getting nicked in a raid. He didn’t
know what he was looking for, so just pulled a few random books
out and opened them, no joy.
“Are you into books, Stewart? There’s some good ones there
if you want to lend one.” He was already nervy due to the
comedown from the hit he’d had earlier, so he jumped out of his
skin when she spoke from just behind him.
“Er, yeah, I guess so. Mainly crime stuff, you know serial
killers and that sort of stuff, you got any like that?”
He knew she didn’t but thought it was more natural to carry on
like this.
“I might have an Agatha Christie somewhere, nothing modern
though, I don’t really do fiction, life is creative enough without
needing anything make believe, do you know what I mean
Stewart?”
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He had no idea but shrugged non-committally. They sat on
chairs facing each other and she fussed about for a few seconds
getting comfortable. He liked the coffee and couldn’t believe his
luck when she laid a plate of biscuits on the small coffee table, he
tried to be cool about it but he had stuffed three before she had
even got her first dunked in her tea.
“My neighbours getting me some more cookies, but I had
these left, thought we might as well have a couple now, you tuck
in, love.”
He thought she was taking the piss at first, he had clearly not
waited to be asked, but her tone didn’t give him that impression.
She was just a nice old lady, it wouldn’t deter him from robbing
her if he got the chance though. They sat and chatted about the
weather and Brighton’s changing face. She was concerned by all
the stag and hen does that came into town at the weekend, that it
would put off the families that had traditionally come here for the
day.
He didn’t have much to say, he liked it here, he didn’t say
why, but it was the easy access to drugs and reasonably easy-going
police force. He needed to have a look for what he was interested
in, so took the chance of a toilet break, it was off of the small hall
area, which also put it next to the bedroom. There was a second
door, which he assumed was a spare room, he had a good look in
the medicine cabinet where he found some codeine based
painkillers, not great but someone would pay for them. He
pocketed them and sneaked into the bedroom to have a good look
for his prize. The dressing table was covered in cheap costume
jewellery as well as more nic nacs, he put some of the bigger stuff
in his trouser pocket and opened the drawers in the hope he would
find her stash.
As much as Sally was a bit soppy, she was no fool, and he had
been a little too long for her liking. She got up from her sofa and
went through to the hall. Sure enough, the toilet door was wide
open, the room was empty, the bedroom door was ajar as usual, but
the other door was also open, which was a big no no in this house.
As she looked to see if he was in her bedroom, he came out of the
spare room with a bag in his hands, it was her supply of Ketamine,
worth a good few quid out on the streets.
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He was alarmed to see her standing there and panicked as she
let out a yell for help. He knew the house was empty but this was a
nice neighbourhood and the chance someone would hear her and
come in to her rescue was a distinct possibility. He acted quickly to
shut her up, he punched her square in the face with all his might.
She went down heavily hitting her head on the telephone table as
she went down. As she landed, he was already leaping over her and
heading out the door into the lobby. He had pretty much screwed
his stalking deal but he had valuable merchandise, and he paid no
heed to the condition of Sally as she slumped where she was,
unconscious, blood pouring from her nose and a wound on the
back of head. He quickly negotiated the two locks on the front
door with one hand full and ran up the short path to the street.
Saffy was just then coming out of the park and noticed him
leaving the house, he saw her coming and ran the other way. In her
panic she ran the last hundred or so feet, dialling 999 as she did.
The chances he was just leaving Sally after a visit were slim to
none and she had a cold feeling in her stomach as she barged the
door aside and looked through Sally’s front door.
Her first thought was she was dead. Blood was pooling on the
floor beneath her, her face was a mess of blood and snot and she
was out cold. She knew a little first aid from a course at uni, but
that was for drowning and broken arms, nothing as serious as this.
She got back on her phone as she felt her neck, praying she would
find a pulse. As she explained the condition to an operator, they
gave her advice on making their chances of saving her increase.
There was a pulse, but she didn’t know if it was a strong one or
not, she had nothing to compare it to, her own was thumping out of
her chest as the adrenaline coursed through her. She laid her on her
side, checking she hadn’t swallowed her tongue in the process.
The police arrived shortly afterwards and got to work trying to
ascertain whether they needed to do anything further before the
ambulance could get to them. They had been local when the call
came in, they had just passed Stewart going the other way, but
couldn’t have stopped him without knowing what had happened.
All they got was a frantic young lady had seen a strange man
leaving her property and there was a vulnerable old lady in the
building.
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She hadn’t regained consciousness when the ambulance took
her away and Saffy was in pieces, as she explained about seeing
this man about the neighbourhood for a few days, she told them
about her situation, they knew the house was a safe house for
battered women, and how she had been worried he was watching
her.
She felt terrible now, realising he was casing the place for an
attack on Sally. She had been so selfish worrying about her own
problems she never even considered he might be after her friend.
As the assault was obviously a serious one, they left an officer to
keep the scene safe and uncontaminated and took Saffy along with
them to the hospital. She was as close to family as Sally had and it
would allow them to interview her once they got a handle on what
had gone down. She was in theatre when they got there, apparently
the blow to back of the head had caused a massive bleed inside the
skull, she was prepped and ready in record time and the specialist
was with her as they spoke, all they could say was she was in the
best possible hands.
The case was handed over to a detective constable who
seemed to be no older than Saffy. What was it they said about
feeling old when the policemen looked so much younger, he was a
nice enough guy, a bit cocky and she could tell he fancied her. This
used to make her feel good but now she worried they were
fantasising about her, as the porn star not the young lady in front of
them.
They went into a room set aside for family members in a grief
situation and he brought her in a cup of tea, and one for himself.
He introduced himself as DC Blain, he didn’t offer a christian
name and she never asked, he addressed her as Sandra, which she
found hard to grasp at the time. Everything was a mess and she
was suffering from guilt as well as shock. They went through the
events of the last few days, her suspicions and what Sally had said
about seeing him around for a while, even before she had moved
upstairs. Due to the fact she had seen him often, her description
was very good, as it turned out he was already in custody but she
wasn’t to know this.
She then described the scene as she left the park, he had come
out of the gate and looked to run toward her. He froze once he saw
her and turned tail and ran the other way. They went through her
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initial actions at the scene and where things were compared to
usual, nothing was out of place in the hall, the phone had been
knocked off of the table, the only thing she could have said was
different was the back bedroom door being open.
This took about half an hour and she agreed to visit the station
as soon as convenient to sign a transcript of their chat. The
situation hadn’t changed when she came out and she waited for six
hours before they told her what had been done. Sally was in a
stable condition but she had been very close to dying when they
operated. The hope was she would recover but there was a real
chance she had sustained brain damage, Saffy wept onto the nurses
shoulder as she held her tightly.
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Chapter Twenty­Six
Yuri was in a terrible state. He was torn by his need to do as
required by his boss, the rules and codes of this thing he was part
of, this vor v zakone, there were things he was obliged to do, and
he had always stood by these almost dogma like rules, but he
would not kill a child, unborn or otherwise. He could turn it
around, he was not the one who was going to kill the girl, Vitaly
would be and he had killed children in the past. This was bullshit
and he knew it, for all the tattoos and secret meetings in bars and
offices throughout his own world of crime, he had never heard of
someone doing such a thing for no good reason, she was not a risk
to them. Her crime was defiance, which was no crime to his
people, hadn’t they been defiant in the beginning, against the boot
of soviet oppression? He could almost understand the deaths of
children of the politicians or mobsters. This was a weapon of a
very potent nature, he got that, but what message would this
child’s death send? None, he knew it already.
Vitaly talked about the fear it would pass onto the girls at the
clubs and brothels dotted around the country, that you never left,
no matter what you thought was in your future it was decided by
the men who owned you. He thought about Eva, surely that was
enough of a warning, it had the opposite effect on Saffron sure, but
the rest of the girls were shitting themselves right now. Vitaly had
seen to that with his behaviour since her leaving. Valeria’s death
was already one too many in his mind. He thought about the child,
he was sure it would be Vitaly’s, he considered if this would
change things for her, could the fact she bore his child save her?
He knew it would not. Vitaly was as cruel a man as he had ever
met, no, if he knew it would just infuriate him further and result in
a slower more painful death, he was stuck with a choice to make.
They had spoken earlier in the day. He deliberately called after
leaving Petr to ensure the two of them wouldn’t need to talk, he
trusted the boy as far as he could throw him, which in this case was
probably quite far. He gave him the good news, they had hacked
into the system and found out many vital pieces of information,
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they had to run further searches to ascertain where she was now.
They had moved her and this meant more time was needed.
Vitaly was impressed by the results so far, or at least he said
he was, there was something behind the words, an unspoken threat
but who was it aimed at? Petr for taking too long or himself? He
couldn’t shake the feeling things were coming to a head, but he
had no reason to justify it.
He travelled to Croydon to talk to Karl personally, he needed
to know if he knew about the baby. He may have assumed they
knew and didn’t mention it, she was a thin girl, three months
pregnant should be noticeable, shouldn’t it. The drive over gave
him time to think, he made a few calls and decided he would send
their own personal cleaner in just in case there was other
information not inputted to the system yet. This felt like an act of
betrayal to him but he was aware he needed to find her one way or
another before someone else did. He had set the Chinese on the
case now and they invariably turned up results, it would be just his
luck to find her just to be trumped by the triads.
Before he could get anything done, Vitaly would be on his
way there. To be sure, they weren’t anywhere near finding her. He
called Zo to see if he had anything to say on the matter, he hid the
reason for the call beneath a veneer of polite enquiry into the
business they had talked of. He asked if they had come any closer
to the concessions they mentioned before. They had not, and by the
way any news on that girl they mentioned. He had claimed to have
forgotten all about it, but he would get things moving now he had
been reminded, he thanked Yuri for the call and his timely
reminder of the favour he had asked. It had been rude to forget and
he was most ashamedly sorry. It was bollocks he knew that, these
guys lived for business, they never forgot a favour offered or
owed, he just wanted to keep thing close to his chest, and he would
then, on finding the girl, try and negotiate the concessions from a
position of supreme strength.
Karl was in the pub they had met in before, he looked worried
to see Yuri and it took a few minutes to reassure him he was okay
with the powers that be. He hadn’t found the girl but he did get
them the information about the refuge and the social worker hadn’t
he? His Paranoia might work in his favour due to the fact he would
want be as free of any suspicions as possible, right up to the point
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where he might say more than required just to prove it’s truth. Yuri
bought him a drink, they chatted about shared friends, and old
times when Karl had been a crazy drug fuelled party animal. The
talk waffled on about nothing and everything until Yuri brought up
the Saffy situation. Hadn’t it been a crazy few days, spying on the
clinic, they had seen some proper mess’s coming and going. Saffy
stood out to Karl because she was so different, you could see in her
eyes she was an addict but her clothes were nicer than you usually
saw in these places.
Yuri asked what he thought of her, was she pretty? Have a
good figure? Karl was wary of these type of leading questions, but
Yuri didn’t seem to be trying to trick him, why would he? Yuri
told him he’d had a “piece” of her, she was great. This gave Karl
the courage to say yes, he had fancied her right away, he knew she
was out of his league especially now but she had a nice body. If he
was back in the business of supplying girls she would have been a
big earner he was sure of that. He never mentioned anything about
a big tummy or the possibility she was expecting, so Yuri left it
unsaid, no need to hush someone who didn’t know the secret in the
first place.
While in Croydon he got a call from Vitaly, he wanted to send
a couple of the guys up to Leeds to search Ellen's place, something
had to be there, he was adamant. Yuri suggested it needed only one
man to carry out the task and Vitaly got inexplicably angry at this
suggestion. He ranted about the fact they had lost two good men
last time and he wasn’t about to risk anyone else’s life on a chance
it might not happen again. If he thought three men was the right
size team last time what had changed? He couldn’t argue back
because it was a tirade of abuse and recrimination and there wasn’t
anything he could have said to calm him. It was completely out of
context with the situation. If he wanted to send three guys then he
was the boss, he didn’t need to argue about it with anyone. This
call left him a little unnerved but the next one really set him on
edge.
Darius a cousin on his mother’s side rang from Amsterdam to
ask if he could stay with him until he found somewhere of his own,
or the boss told him where he was supposed to be. As Yuri had no
idea that he or the other three guys who were in the process of
getting documents were ever supposed to be coming, he couldn’t
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say anything other than agree it was fine. They were never close,
their mothers didn’t get on but he was family and so there was a
duty expected in these circumstances. He rang through to the club
and spoke to Andrei behind the bar. He was usually on the ball
with all the latest news, he knew nothing and had just had the
others in grumbling about going to Leeds, things were a little weird
back there he said. Yuri was more disturbed than ever, what was
the boss up to? And why was he keeping him out of the loop? As
he had no idea what he could have done to upset him, unless he
had heard from Petr? No he would have gone straight into one in
that situation, it must be something else and he just wasn’t
involved this time.
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Chapter Twenty­Seven
Tom woke early, he had been struggling to get decent sleep
with the rib injuries, even the powerful painkillers only served to
dull the constant ache. They were designed to relieve the pain
caused by the tumour and this was way above their pay grade. He
had used the time spent lying awake to formulate plan after plan,
he had to act soon, he could feel the urgency but couldn’t explain
where it came from, was it instinct? Or he may be completely
wrong, it could just be his own backward counting clock that was
geeing him on to action. He was toying with the idea of an oldfashioned
motorcycle assassination, they were a staple of mobsters
the world over and if he got away they would assume it was a turf
war of some sort. There were risks though. For starts, he would
need Ricky to ride the bike and getting away was no formality,
there were cameras all over the West End. There was some
mounted on a lamppost outside Ricky’s house keeping an eye out
for terrorists, but just as capable of following a pair of would be
assassins. He would be fine, but he couldn’t put Ricky in this kind
of risky situation.
The IED was still his best course of action but it was messy
and he didn’t have the stomach for the possibility of killing anyone
not involved, otherwise the car left unattended would have been
ideal. He had been a Para in Northern Ireland and had seen the
effect of such bombs, they worked well but did huge amounts of
damage.
The street outside the club was a busy one, a cut through to the
tube station from the offices that filled the area. He had to come up
with a way of targeting Vitaly directly; it was of the utmost
importance they did this within the next couple of days.
He was still running through ideas in his head when Ricky
came down. It was only six thirty and he was surprised to see him.
“I go for a run every day, you’re never usually up, so you miss
me, I thought you knew.”
Tom was surprised yet again, he knew he was a fit young man
but assumed he just burned the calories with his hyperactive life,
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hauling boxes of discs about for Ben, pulling the stall about and
such. He never considered him disciplined enough to have a
regime, up til now, he doubted if he even had a clue what a regime
might be.
“Do me a favour, mate. While you’re running, have a think
about how we can get to Vitaly without accidently killing half of
West London, yeah, and if you can try and do it so we get away
with it as well.”
Ricky just smiled in response, grabbed a bottle of water from
the fridge and he was gone. Tom had been half joking with Ricky
but he had nothing and there was no harm in giving him something
that made him feel more involved, was there? Stranger things had
happened than good ideas coming from unlikely sources, and he
couldn’t shake the feeling Ricky was a hell of a lot brighter than he
let on sometimes.
He finished his cup of tea and polished off the last of the
toast, washed up his breakfast stuff and settled in front of the PC.
He had Mo’s reports in front of him, he couldn’t face re-reading
them, but he needed to get something on him that would allow him
access to Vitaly, an in, what was his Achilles heel?
He was a misogynist that was clear, he liked to hurt people
and he was power hungry, all traits common in the sociopaths who
made the best criminals. He was not unique and this should be
telling him something but he just couldn’t get his thoughts in order.
He was frustrated at this lack of clarity, he was a clear thinker,
which was his strength in combat situations. He was always
thinking of what was the best method to proceed, the faults and
flaws would come to him as they cropped up, he could analyse
things at speed and make informed decisions, but that was then.
Now, he was a muddled cripple with God knew how long left?
Struggling to take on a puffed up moron with the security sense of
a church warden. That word kept coming back to him, security, he
was lax in this field or appeared to be if past experience was
anything to go by. He should be able to use this, to find some way
to have this work for him, but he couldn’t get it, not just yet, he
would in time he told himself, half believing it.
He was looking at a map of the area on the big screen, there
were little flags, more like elongated balloons where the major
sites in this drama were, the Gym, the two clubs, the local police
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station and finally Vitaly’s home address. He lived in a great spot
for a man such as himself, he had easy access to everything. His
work and gym, yes, this was obvious, but he could get a tube
almost anywhere within a half hour and access to mainline stations
which he could use to go anywhere from Bristol all the way to
Belgium and beyond.
He had a luxury flat in a nice building, he enjoyed the best of
everything in terms of amenities.
Tom, thanks to Ricky, had seen the specs, there were a few of
the flats left for sale and he had considered using this to get to him,
but he would be escorted and he doubted the door would just push
open at the first try, no he needed time and patience to crack that
nut. He went through the bills he had been given by Mo, and then
the sheets Ricky had printed, there was his magazine subscription,
they had even got a copy offline to see if there was anything there
to give them a clue. It was a load of Cyrillic gibberish with lots of
attractive Russian ladies, expensive watches and aftershaves
clearly catering to the rich Russian oligarchs, rather than the
peasant class he figured. They had a breakdown of his TV
packages, he assumed it was a Sky subscription but he was wrong,
it was a cable firm, he read the list of channels, he had pretty much
everything, a few Russian language channels, Al Jazeera even, he
spent a lot of money on getting these channels. I bet he would be
well pissed off without them he thought.
Then a seed of an idea crept in, cable was a lot easier to
interfere with than satellite, he also got his phone through the same
company, this could be a way in. He was excited by the prospect of
finding his in. He was willing Ricky to come home, he needed to
bounce this off someone, it could be bollocks, he had to have some
outside perspective. Until then, he went over the various forms of
the plan trying to guess whether his miracle worker of a brother
could get what was needed to pull this off.
They sat together in the front room for hours, Ricky had
arrived back half an hour after Tom’s epiphany, and he didn’t get a
chance to shower or change, he just had time to boil the kettle
before Tom launched into his idea. They went through any
obstacles, possible flaws and likely requirements that would need
to be met. While Tom went through kit required, Ricky got on the
Internet to find out if he could find it, and more importantly when
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he could get it to them. They were on a short time frame and he
wanted to have the gear there and then, which wasn’t practical but
Ricky was moving heaven and earth to do it as quickly as he could.
As always Ricky knew a man who knew another man who
could get them some of the less easily attainable bits and pieces.
Tom was aware that he might be setting alarm bells ringing at MI5,
by asking for some of these things. But hoped Ricky’s sources
were intelligent enough to stay off the radar or at the very least he
would have a few days to get it done before they even realised the
components had been bought by the same person.
After the three hours talking and searching for things, Ricky
left to see his contacts. Tom went through the preliminary stuff,
again looking for possible flaws and overcoming them, he felt
exhilarated by the whole thing, if he hadn’t been playing for such
high stakes he would have enjoyed it, immensely.
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Chapter Twenty­Eight
Sally was in the intensive care unit and Saffy had to go with
an officer back to her flat to see if they could see what was
missing. She couldn’t see anything obvious, the bedroom had been
rifled through but nothing seemed to be missing. The spare room
was empty except for a small single bed and a bedside cabinet,
there was a door on the cabinet that was open but otherwise there
was nothing to see. Saffy suspected that drugs had been taken but
obviously wouldn’t have said as much, it turned out Stewart had
been carrying a small amount of painkillers and some cheap bits of
tat, his right hand was bruised from the punch he’d thrown but he
denied anything and said he was looking for Caramel.
He wanted to ask her out and when she looked at him he got
sudden onset of shyness and ran for it. He hadn’t even gone inside
so he couldn’t have touched the old lady. They knew it was all
bollocks, they had taken some scrapes off of his hand and checked
for any of Sally’s DNA which luckily there was. It was very lucky
as transfer wasn’t as regular as the TV shows would have you
believe. Saffy had expressed fears he would come back and was
assured he wouldn’t be getting bail anytime soon, as a vagrant he
was considered as no fixed abode and therefore an obvious flight
risk. A room in hostel didn’t constitute a home. With this in mind
she settled in for the night, she would be back at the hospital in the
morning. She had convinced the staff she was a relative and they
promised to phone her if there was anything she should know
about.
The night was spent with constant nightmares about Vitaly
and Yuri coming to get her, the rapes and beating were replayed
over again in her dreams. She would wake screaming, worry she
would have woken Sally then realised she wasn’t there any more,
not for a while at the very least. She was alone in the building and
out there somewhere men wanted to hurt her. She formulated a
plan to get in touch with her dad, you couldn’t just ring directory
enquires and ask for the SAS, scores of school boys would be at it
every day otherwise. She needed to get a message to him that she
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was in trouble, even if he was away on duty one of his mates
would come for her she was sure of it.
Not Tom, he would be with dad but they had a tight bunch of
mates who knew her and would be keen to help, regardless of what
she’d been up to. She went through fantasy scenarios of her dad
answering the phone and just getting it, no tears or recriminations
just getting she was in trouble and coming to get her. It would be a
shame to leave Brighton, she was getting to like it and had become
really close to Sally, but she wasn’t safe, although would she be
safer anywhere else? Maybe she didn’t need to leave, dad just had
to get Vitaly and Yuri, and it would all go away.
The morning came after very little sleep, the crying of the
gulls made getting any further rest unlikely. She was bleary eyed
and to her mind heinous looking, the rings under her eyes weren’t
very attractive for sure but she was far from hideous in anyone
else’s eyes. She thought about Stewart, she had been sure that if
anything, he had been interested in her, it had never occurred to her
he might be casing the place to rob Sally, but why hurt her? She
was no threat to anyone and certainly smart enough not to get
involved in any fighting over easily replaceable stuff like drugs,
and money, it made no sense.
It had been an awkward conversation when asked what
business she was in. She was on benefits as far as she knew, that
was her story but they were curious about the flat. It was privately
rented according to them, which it wasn’t and did she have any
little jobs, the motive seemed to be theft and if, as thought, he had
cased the place he would have had to suspect there was something
worth stealing in the house. He may be a junkie but he must have
been alert enough to do some research, so why risk getting caught
for very little reward. Unless there had been something, they
hadn’t found on him, it had been a good hour before they arrested
him. He could have dumped or sold on the spoils, he might not
necessarily have taken cash for his efforts, junkies would often ask
for credit as payment for all sorts of things. They were probing for
something but she deflected the suggestion there might have been
more to it, he had made a mistake, maybe he expected Saffy to be
in that flat and was after her instead? They tried to reassure her this
was unlikely, although there was some evidence, not that they told
her, that he could be involved in a couple of sexually motivated
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crimes that had been unsolved, DNA linked him and they would be
pursuing this regardless of what the outcome of this case may be.
This chore dealt with, she went to the hospital. It meant a bus
ride but she felt obliged to be there. She had been her closest friend
as far as she knew, although a couple of her clients had knocked
before she left and sent her their good wishes. One of them, an
older gentleman said he’d pop in if he got the chance. Saffy was
surprised later in the day when said gentleman came in wearing the
obligatory scrubs of a doctor. He seemed a little embarrassed that
she was there, after their original meeting, which was clearly a
drug deal kind of thing. She tried to soothe any awkwardness but
he was too caught up in Sally’s condition to worry unduly. He read
her notes and gave Saffy a smile.
“She has been in the hands of the very best available, if
anyone can get her through this it’s him, do give her my best when
she wakes, and she will, I’m sure of it.”
She thanked him for the kind words.
She didn’t wake that day, and the nurses tried to prepare Saffy
for the possibility she might not pull through. Suitably distraught,
she went back to the house, aware of every shadow along the way.
She had a key to Sally’s and searched for her gear, she knew
roughly where it was and she was rewarded with a very potent
smelling bag of weed, behind which was a bag of folded twenty
and fifty pound notes. She removed them and placed them in her
kitchen cupboard, she just wanted to avoid anyone coming across
them if the worst happened. She would use the money to pay for
any service if need be, it was pragmatic but it helped her to think
she was helping in some small way.
It was today that Stewart’s dealer finally passed his
information along to the guy who’d asked him to keep an eye out.
They only met every now and then and he had forgotten he’d even
asked. The picture taken on the mobile showed a pretty good
likeness of what they were looking for and the dealer was a little
pissed off when he tried to fob him off with five hundred quid. He
had been told a grand, they argued for a while, getting quite heated
at times until they managed to haggle the deal up, they settled on
eight hundred but he felt robbed and this would colour their future
dealings. The thing was, he had been asked to get people to look
out for this girl by a friend of a friend. It was seen as a punt and not
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expected to get any results. The money offered was good, he had
been given a grand just for his troubles, and he knew a few other
guys, who were given similar incentives to find the girl in
question. He never imagined for one minute he’d get a result, he
had promised the dealers all five hundred as a finder’s fee, but
when it came time to pay up he tried to screw them for as little as
he could.
Now, he had the info and he would see what he could get for
it. They must be desperate to find her, he didn’t even think about
why she was so important to whoever, but they were willing to
offer a grand up front just to grease the wheels, this could be a real
earner.
He would call his mate as soon as he got home, he never
risked using his phone while driving, a mate got stopped for it
recently and managed to get done for intent to supply with about
sixty rocks of crack in the glove box. No, he would wait and make
the call and hopefully make his day a great one by shopping the
whereabouts of some girl they called Caramel.
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Chapter Twenty­Nine
There was a small amount of detail that Vitaly had to see to.
He was confident he had the men he needed, and was even sure of
who would be his new second in command once the deed was
done. The offer of a free flat and some potential to earn good
money for a change was enough to buy loyalty in any organisation,
but amongst this particular brotherhood, it was pure gold. The
problem was he wanted to ensure he could have whatever funds
Yuri had snuck away for himself, this wasn’t easy to get to and
needed some thought being put to it. He had spoken to Yuri a
couple of times today, he was no longer concerned about Tom, he
was just a chancer regardless of his training. He was in a terrible
condition, which suggested he wasn’t a serving soldier anymore
and they had put paid to any plans he might have by effectively
crippling him. He was a minor irritation and he was all set to send
him a nice picture of the bloody and beaten Saffy once he had
gotten hold of her. It would be a delicious moment for him to know
the amount of pain it would cause, then if necessary he would send
his new men out to find him and remove the problem entirely, this
could all wait though. They had spoken about the Social worker
and her records, the hacker had been useful and may yet still come
up with more detail, but a physical search was now the best chance
of finding her, so they agreed to send in their own team member
with the cleaning staff this evening.
Vitaly told Yuri he wanted to hear from them directly which
he didn’t seem to like the idea of, but he agreed after a bit of a
disagreement. He was the boss and would be listened to, even if
Yuri thought he was going to be in his chair very soon.
Yuri was getting very uncomfortable with the situation. He
was trying hard to come up with a plan that would see him
complete his task whilst not ever letting Vitaly get his hands on
Saffron. He thought of claiming she had gone overseas, this wasn’t
beyond the realms of possibility but they had contacts everywhere.
He would have been lumbered with setting up searches everywhere
she could have gone, and there was always the chance the Chinese
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would turn her up and make him a liar. If this happened it would
be the last mistake he made, was the life of a baby worth risking
his own?
He set up the bogus cleaner with a fake pass and sat outside as
they went into the building with the rest of the legitimate staff.
There was a brief moment when the security guard, no doubt used
to familiar faces challenged them, the pass seemed to be enough to
appease him and off they went. Yuri had taken their mobile phone
off them so Vitaly couldn’t call them directly, he doubted he would
have the wherewithal to find the number but he wasn’t sure. He
doubted Vitaly would have thought that far ahead, but he gave
them a smart phone in its place. He wanted pictures of any
documents they found, they knew whose files to go to and what the
name of the case was, it wasn’t exactly a James Bond style job, but
a baby’s life hinged on the outcome. He tried not to consider Saffy
in this, it muddied the waters and she was ultimately expendable. If
he could hand over Eva, who he did have some feelings for he
wouldn’t be too troubled letting Saffy suffer. He wouldn’t like it,
but if it had to be done he could manage it, but with a child it was a
whole different dynamic and he was still fighting his own demons
on that subject.
Vitaly had just spoken to his newly loyal men, they had their
orders and none of them seemed to flinch in the face of treachery.
Was this a good thing or not? He surmised it was in this situation,
but he would need to think about what kind of men he had around
him from now on. He could just as easily remove one threat only to
raise another usurper in his place. He was getting rather tired by all
the planning and juggling of different issues all at once. He was
sure Saffy would be in his grasp very soon, he had made contact
with Yuri’s accounting friend and broached the subject that he was
suspicious of where the money was going. He may need to check
Yuri’s financials to check he wasn’t skimming off the top. The guy
was a friend to Yuri but he was in the business of crime and knew
better than to argue with his boss, this would yield the money
when he needed to get to it. All he needed to do now was arrange
for Yuri to meet his men at a convenient location, somewhere they
wouldn’t be seen or heard but not so isolated as to put Yuri on
edge and give him a reason to not turn up. He decided they should
meet in the car park building round the corner from the Pink
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Elephant, it was close enough to be comfortably local but at that
time of night, it would be deserted. He smiled to himself, how
clever he was, no one could match his Machiavellian mind, he
pondered on whether one day he would arrange a coup of his own,
why run just London when the whole of Europe was opening up
before them, his bosses had better watch their own backs.
Yuri was reading a local paper when his spy approached the
car, they were smiling and he guessed they were expecting a bonus
of some sort for getting the goods. He couldn’t read English very
well but he practiced as much as he could, he didn’t understand
what a fete was, but there were a few going on this Easter
apparently.
The would be cleaner tapped on his window lightly, she
didn’t want to alarm him and risk getting shot by mistake, she had
a very dramatic view of her employer on this one. She was a small
stocky woman, who probably was a cleaner for someone else he
thought, she looked Romanian but could have been from any of the
many countries in that part of Eurasia. “I get what you want mister,
lots of photos and no one see me, they never know I was there I
promise.”
He took the mobile phone he had supplied off of her and
reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet, she would have been
given a better than average days’ pay by whoever they had got her
from. He forgot the detail of who it was in amongst all the other
things going on but he knew a tip was expected and he wasn’t in
the mood to be stingy, he pulled two fifties out and handed them to
her.
“You tell no one what you read, okay, not your boss or
anyone, it’s between us, or I will come and find you okay?”
Her eyes widened at the threat but the lure of the money was
strong and she nodded keenly as she snatched them away.
“No problem boss, I not read very good anyway, just the name
and then I photo every page for you, I know nothing to tell
anyway.”
She walked away quickly and he considered his luck, she was
most probably telling the truth, not many immigrants bothered to
learn to read and write anymore. He scrolled through the photos, a
lot of the papers were just printed versions of what he’d read on
the computer screen at Petr’s, but there were some hand written
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ones, he would need a bigger screen to see them properly. He
looked at his watch, it was already seven, he would need to go to
see Petr again before going back to the club for the night shift. He
was working many hours recently, he might as well have been in
proper employment for all the work he seemed to have to do, he
laughed, not with his tastes he wouldn’t.
Vitaly was back at his flat, getting ready for his trip to the
gym. He liked the hour he spent in the club. There were no women,
except the sexy receptionist, who he had often toyed with the idea
of corrupting, but he thought better of it. She was well liked by all
the clients and he wanted to keep this place as a haven away from
the stresses of the business. He would work out for half an hour,
have a steam room session and then get ready for the night. There
was music playing as he sorted out everything he needed for the
evening, if things went well he would be in a very different
position tomorrow, all he needed was to get Saffy back and he was
in clover.
He had seen the front page of the evening paper as he passed
one of the vendors on the street corner, it mentioned the girl
washed up at the London Eye again, his arrogance didn’t allow
him to be concerned about it, he revelled in the mystery he had set
for the police. Eva was a nothing in life, but now she was a star,
and all thanks to him.
He decided to switch the TV on to see what the local news
channels were saying about it. He pressed the standby button on
the box which usually turned the TV and cable system on
simultaneously, but the TV came on with a blue box in the middle
of the screen stating there was a signal loss. He swore aloud in
three different languages and went to look for his booklet, he knew
there was a number for this sort of thing. He had it happen before
at the very start of his contract. It was in a drawer in the kitchen
and he thumbed through it until he got to the contact section,
picking out the right one, he too struggled with reading English
and he took a moment to decide which was the fault reporting
hotline.
He dialled the number, a three digit one for customer
convenience and went straight through to a young girl with a
London accent. Last time they had been Indian but that may have
been just bad luck. He explained the blue box and answered a few
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questions, she was very professional asking everything he would
have expected. She would have an engineer out tomorrow, as it
was late, would he be about at 11 am? He said he wouldn’t, but he
had a concierge who could let them in if that was okay, she said it
was and rang off. He wasn’t pleased but accepted that the next
morning was as quick as they would be able to manage regardless
of who he rang. On the other end of the line, which was in a small
van parked by his building, Amber gave Ricky a thumbs up, the
first piece was in place. All they had to do now was ensure the real
cable company didn’t pick up the fault and send someone over
themselves. Tom doubted they monitored the system that closely,
but sods law had to be accounted for, they would have to wait and
see, but so far, it was on track.
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Chapter Thirty
With the cable technician’s appointment set for eleven, they
had about fourteen hours to perfect their material and ensure they
would get what they wanted from the operation. To Tom, this was
all in a day’s work. He had no qualms about it but he wouldn’t be
in the apartment for the major part of the deal. He couldn’t risk
Vitaly turning up unannounced and recognising him, also allied to
the fact he was walking on crutches, which he guessed, wouldn’t
look very professional even to a concierge, who was just a
glorified watchman with access to keys. He set up a dummy device
and checked the ignition system would work as required, it did.
Then he checked he had put the correct shape on the charge to get
the maximum effect without the risk of blowing the whole building
up. He was still mindful of any collateral damage and he believed
this plan gave him the lowest possible chance of any. Ricky was
like a big kid with a new toy, he was walking around wearing the
uniform they had bought from a local shop. It had no logos on it,
but he was expected and he did have a very realistic looking
identity card. He had knocked it up using the same gear he had
made Tom’s licence and it worried him how easily he could do this
stuff, in the wrong hands it would be lethal.
They were getting to the real dirty end of this whole affair and
Tom still had the problem of what to do about Yuri. He was sure
the real risk was Vitaly now, Yuri was just a medium level bit of
muscle. Yes, he was dangerous but he would most likely put all his
efforts into finding Tom and forget Saffy all together, which was
as good a result as he could see himself getting at this point. One
thing he realised pretty early on in the day, was he was going to
have to say goodbye to Ricky straight after this.
He had set up a false trail that he hoped the Russians would
follow, he had used a contact to have him put onto a register of
guests at a local hotel. Anyone who looked would see he had been
there for a week or so and hopefully wouldn’t check any deeper
and find out about Ricky. It wasn’t fool proof, but they had tricked
smarter people than them in this way, so he was justified in his
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confidence, he felt. He had to broach the subject with Ricky and
he knew he wasn’t going to like it, hell he wasn’t happy about the
fact they had been apart forever and had had just a few weeks
together. It had been a tough time yes, but having Ricky there had
made all the difference, not just his invaluable assistance but his
company and enthusiasm. He dreaded this conversation but it had
to be done.
Ricky had knocked up spaghetti bolognese for dinner with
some homemade garlic bread, well the bread wasn’t homemade but
the garlic butter was. They sat at the kitchen table sharing stories.
Ricky had hundreds of tales of punch-ups and scams he had pulled.
Tom asked why he bothered to do these little earners with
such an obvious wealth in his grasp.
He shrugged, “I get bored, there’s only so much TV and
movies you can watch. I tried to get a job, but I don’t like being
told what to do, it’s hard to motivate yourself when you don’t need
the money and don’t like what you’re doing.”
It had never occurred to Tom he had always loved his work,
yes, there had been some shitty times but ultimately he was a
soldier to the core and couldn’t see himself doing anything else.
Jules had been fast approaching retirement from the regiment
and they had discussed possible courses of action, they just didn’t
appeal to either of them. There was a buzz to be gained from their
kind of life and truth be told, Jules would much rather have gone
out the way he did than sit in retirement. That wouldn’t be any
consolation to Saffy, she probably wanted to have kids and sit
them on his knee for him to tell war stories to, but that wasn’t
really the kind of life that would have suited him.
His mind had wandered and Ricky tried to get him back on
track.
“You said we had to talk, mate, about tomorrow? Because you
don’t have to worry, I got exactly what to do, what to say if asked
any questions, everything, we’ve cracked this so don’t worry about
it okay?”
He garnered his resolve and looked Ricky in the eyes.
“I’m going to be leaving, mate. I can’t risk staying anywhere
near you and Amber. Once this goes down there’s going to be
major heat on my back, if they get even the slightest whiff you
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exist, let alone were involved you’re dead, both of you and I can’t
risk that.”
This stunned Ricky. He had assumed he would nurse Tom for
his last months and they would be together right up until the end.
“Well, what if we came with you? I’ve got the dough, we
could go abroad for a while. They have great doctors in America
don’t they, we could go there until it all blows over mate, see
nothing to worry about.”
Tom was shaking his head as he spoke.
“Mate, these people, the Russians, they are everywhere these
days. Nowhere would be far enough away to be safe for you.”
Ricky looked crestfallen.
“I want you to be there with me, more than you could know,
but it’s not gonna happen. I’m a dead man regardless, but you have
a life to lead, you’ve got the talent and the means to do something
with your life,” this wasn’t making any difference, he changed
tack, “There’s Ben to think of, he must be getting lonely by now. I
know you’ve had him sorted through this but he needs you, not a
paid helper, it was never about your help with the stall. It was
about being around you, your energy, I know because I’ve felt it,
you’re an amazing young man and you have to come out the other
end of this.”
This was getting somewhere, he could see a change in Ricky’s
demeanour.
“I want you to know Saffy and be my eyes and ears when I’m
gone. You’ve got to look after her and Ben for me, that’s more
important than you watching me die, you understand that don’t
you?”
Tears were welling up in Ricky’s eyes, he was touched by his
words, no one had ever said anything good about him to his face
before, yeah, he was always being told he was a good lad, but
usually after buying a drink or doing a favour for someone. He
thought about Tom’s words and knew them to be correct.
“Ok, mate, I’ll do this, but because you asked me. I want it on
record I’m not happy about it, you’re going to have to keep in
touch because I’ve got my feelers out for Saffy, and I’ll need to let
you know if we find her won’t I? Where will you go?”
“Well, I was thinking of checking into a hospice, they’ve been
bugging me to die gracefully so I reckon it’s the last place anyone
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will be looking for me, and the drugs are of the highest quality I’m
told.”
They both laughed at this and continued with their meal, their
last supper as Ricky thought of it.
278

Chapter Thirty­One
Sally had awakened on the morning of the third day after the
attack. She was understandably upset and unsure of where she was,
the nurse on duty had called Saffy straight away and she was there
within the hour. Seeing a familiar face made a huge difference for
Sally and she started to relax. Which was just as well, if she had
continued they would have given her something to calm her down,
and she hadn’t had time to process everything by this point. Saffy
held her hand and began to explain what had transpired since she
had found her in the hall of the flat. She had a remarkably good
recollection of events, remembering right up until she fell, the
punch to her face and everything else before. She was embarrassed
to have been so stupid. She had asked him into her home without a
moment’s thought for her safety, let alone the danger she had put
Saffy in. She was pregnant and trying to escape a violent man and
she had brought one into the building without a single moment’s
hesitation. Saffy consoled her and tried to calm her self-flagellation
down. She couldn’t in all honesty tell her she was wrong, she
wasn’t, but it served no purpose beating her about the head with
her stupidity. There may come a day when they could talk about it
rationally and Sally clearly needed to learn to be a bit more
discerning in her choice of guests, but for now accepting what had
happened was far more important.
Saffy had to go home with a list of things Sally needed. There
was the usual stuff like nighties and toiletries as well as a couple of
odd sounding books about karmic healing and the power of the
mind. These didn’t seem important things to Saffy, she had
suggested they might not be suitable for right now, but Sally had
insisted.
There were some things Saffy had to go and buy as Sally
wasn’t as fastidious at home as she wanted to appear in hospital, so
she took some of the money from its hiding place and went into
town. She had to go through the town centre to get to the hospital
anyway, so it was no trouble.
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As she got off her bus outside the big department store, which
was well out of their price range, a young man was alighting from
a train from London with copies of two photographs. One an old
photo and the other, which had been taken on a mobile a week ago.
He was armed with an address and a map. In his possession was a
few hundred pounds, a top of the range camera, a smart phone and
a packed lunch. He had been given his instruction by phone and
knew nothing of the whys and wherefores of the mission, just an
address and a target to get close enough to photograph, unseen and
undetected were the buzzwords. It was what he was good at and
could see no problems on this job, it was probably someone’s elicit
girlfriend he surmised, and there would be no risks involved. She
wasn’t likely to hit him with a stiletto or anything. As he headed to
the taxi rank, Saffy passed the end of the road he was on.
She was heading to the seconds store to get a few new nighties
and some slippers, although Sally wasn’t likely to be walking
anywhere for a few days at least, if ever, she caught herself
thinking. She hoped this was not the case but it was a possibility
with any brain injury. Would she end up a carer for her neighbour
as well as a single mum? She felt terrible for even thinking that
way, Sally had become a good friend in the short time they’d
known each other. She had been nothing but generous and caring,
never prying or delving into her life, no unsolicited advice, just a
friend.
Her visit didn’t last long as she fell asleep while chatting about
the soaps. Saffy didn’t watch any of them, she still had no TV, but
she bought a magazine with all the upcoming storylines and they
went through it, with Sally passing judgment on what she thought
about this character or that. She was quite impassioned by it and
Saffy had to stop herself from laughing at a couple of points. With
Sally safely asleep and out of any immediate danger, she went
home a lot happier than she had in the previous few days. Her bus
ride was reasonably enjoyable, the route went along the seafront
for a while and she was reminded of days out to Blackpool and
Scarborough as a child. She loved the beach as a kid, especially
when they went abroad. A few times Tom was with them in Spain
and Greece, he baby-sat a couple of nights to let mum and dad
have a date night. The two of them would eat in a nearby restaurant
and go back to the apartment and play board games, he always let
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her win, she knew now that was the case, but at the time, she was
elated by her triumphs.
These nostalgic thoughts didn’t have the pain associated with
them they had up until recently. Just to think of happier times
reminded her of how far she’d fallen, now to think of Dad or Tom
was fine, even pleasurable.
The bus stopped on the opposite side of the park to her street
and it was quite dark when she got off. Normally she would cut
through the park, but since Sally’s attack she had steered around it.
That had been where Sally met up with this Stewart character and
he may have been around, the police said he was not likely to get
bail but you never knew these days, did you?
From the other side of the bushes, the would be spy was
watching her as she made her way back to the house. He didn’t
have the equipment he would need to take photos in this light, not
without a dirty great flash, which in the circumstances wasn’t an
option. One thing he could say though, it was definitely the girl in
both pictures. As poor as the light may have been, he was looking
from darkness at a lit street and the view was such that he could be
almost certain he had the right girl. His employers would be
pleased, they would have liked a photo to back up their claims
regarding knowing her whereabouts, but the mobile shot would
have to suffice in this instance. They hadn’t contacted the person
who had started the search off, they wouldn’t do so until they had
an idea of the value of the information. No one was fool enough to
give up anything for the first price offered, you always turned it
down and haggled for a while, information was like any
commodity and the rules were the same regardless.
The original bounty had been a grand, they had spent a few
hundred pounds so far, they could expect to get at least double the
initial offer and maybe as much as five grand, if they were lucky
and the girl was really important to them. They could be playing a
very dangerous game, were they really sure who this mystery
person was? They decided it was worth the risk. They had no
thought about whether the girl wanted to be found or why she
might be missing in the first place. This was business and personal
stuff was irrelevant. She would get what was coming to her one
way or another and why shouldn’t they make a profit of it in the
meantime?
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He packed his gear into the specially made holdall, threw the
remnants of his lunch into a nearby bin and made the call. It rang a
few times and the man on the other end of the line said to hang on
a second. There was a bit of talking going on in the background,
which he tried to ignore, it didn’t pay to be nosey in these
situations, after a minute or so another voice came on the line.
“Well, do we have some nice shots of the coloured girl for
me?”
He knew this would be asked and his reply wouldn’t be
appreciated.
“No, I didn’t see her until it was dark and you wanted to avoid
her knowing I was here. I did get a good look at her though and it’s
definitely her.”
The voice on the other end cursed under his breath.
“Well, that’s something at least. I won’t be paying the full
whack though, the deal was photographs, we’ll talk more when
you come here.”
This pissed the spy off. There was nothing he could have done
differently to get photos; she just wasn’t there until twilight.
“You want me to come to you? When?”
There was a short discussion with someone in the background
then he replied, “Try to get here in the morning, you know where
we are?”
“No, I just got an email with the details and a couple of photos
attached.”
“We’re in Soho, Old Compton Street, the Cafes called
Bruno’s, you can’t miss it. See you then.”
The call was ended and he made his way back to London, he
had trouble getting a taxi and walked most of the way to the station
before finally finding an empty cab. The man sitting in a booth at
the back of Bruno’s in Soho was happy, he would get a decent
wedge for this with or without the photos, it was turning out to be a
good day.
282

Chapter Thirty­Two
It was the following morning before Yuri could get back to
Camden to see the hacker. Petr was excitable when Yuri spoke to
him on the way there, he was literally around the corner, so he told
him to hold off telling him what he’d found out till he arrived.
Parking was always difficult in this part of Camden, the
requirements of the tenants as well as the shoppers meant spaces
were at a premium, and the cost of an hour was daylight robbery to
Yuri’s mind. He finally found a space and paid four pounds for the
hour, he didn’t expect to be any longer.
As he walked up the street towards Petr’s flat, he was
considering what he would do with the information he was sure the
young lad had gained. He was sure the images on the camera
phone would be crucial, the possibility of Vitaly knowing how
close they were to finding her was unavoidable in his mind and he
was deep in thought about his options. So much so, he passed the
house and was a few hundred feet further on before he realised and
walked back, mightily pissed off at having to do so. He banged the
door a trifle harder than necessary, scaring Petr into thinking the
police had come a knocking. He held back to see what happened
and the delay only made Yuri more pissed off. He banged and
shouted this time, Petr hearing the voice smiled in relief and let
him in.
“Sorry Yuri, I thought you were policeman, I was worried for
a moment there, come in we have lots to talk about.”
He walked away into the front room leaving Yuri to follow, he
was still wound up and shook his head at the Kosovo’s back as he
walked in closing the door behind him.
He handed him the smart phone indicating he wanted to
enlarge the images, Petr just shrugged and pulled out a lead,
checked it fitted and plugged it into the front of his PC, then the
other end into the phone itself. The system seemed to be going
through some recognition routine and in the meantime Petr brought
up a web page. It had Saffron’s details on it, her full name, date of
birth, where she had been referred from and to, and importantly
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where she was attending her appointments with her current social
worker.
It was a community centre in the Portslade area of Brighton.
She was seeing a Mali something or other and would be there next
week on Friday, at eleven o clock. Petr was particularly pleased
with himself and was looking forward to much congratulation from
Yuri and hopefully Vitaly as well. It paid to be onside with the big
wigs and he felt his stock was on the rise in the organisation with
this find.
“Listen Petr, we have to hold fire on this for a while, let’s
check the photos on the camera before we get all happy with
ourselves, yes?”
Slightly disappointed at the response, he nodded sulking and
pressed the icon that indicated there was a device attached. He
followed through a couple of folder menus and there was a screen
filled with some hand written pages of poorly written notes. The
handwriting was terrible and with his poor grasp of written
English, he struggled to decipher a single word. Petr who was
something of a genius academically read English perfectly but still
he struggled with it.
“Try the next one.”
They went through a few before they got something legible,
this was clearly for others to read and had been done in a neat and
tidy style, block capitals and readable by Petr if not Yuri. It
confirmed what they had already found out, she was in Brighton
and her benefits and everything were being sorted by her new
social worker, it gave the address of the drugs counselling service
she was referred to, but little else of use. After going through all
the pictures they found no new information, which was a relief to
Yuri, he just had to get Petr to sit on what they’d found out for a
while so he could come up with a plan, he had a few ideas but he
needed time and this was possibly the one thing he didn’t have the
luxury of.
It became clear that Petr was on a social climbing kick at the
moment and was hoping he would be pushed forward by his good
work. He had changed his mind and wanted to get Vitaly’s
attention, he had some things in mind where a bit of financial
backing would help immensely. Keeping him quiet wasn’t going to
be easy or cheap, this much was obvious.
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“Maybe we should call Vitaly now while we’re together, yes.
We can explain what I did and he will be happy with both of us,
what do you think my friend?”
Something in Yuri’s demeanour set him on edge, he should be
smiling and happy, they had been given a job to do and this was
now done, with a very good result. Maybe he was bothered that
they had no actual address, but where she was going to be next
Friday was as good as he could have imagined at the time.
“You okay, Yuri? You look worried, the boss he will be very
happy, don’t worry about it, we call him and I say how clever you
are to find this out with me, it be okay for sure.” The big man
sneered at him and for the first time he realised he might be in
danger, he couldn’t understand why, but he was all of a sudden
aware of the fact he was alone with this giant who seemed to be
unhappy with their work. He looked at the door, which Yuri was
standing in front of. Yuri noticed and smiled in realisation that Petr
was no longer feeling safe, he was right to be fearful as Yuri had
made a decision about how to keep him quiet, permanently. As
Petr made an effort to get free, Yuri grabbed him by the neck with
both hands lifting the smaller man up from the floor as his feet
kicked out in an attempt to gain release.
The noise he made was making Yuri feel sick, he could feel
the life draining from him as he tightened his grip, this was how
Mikhail had gone and he thought about him in Petr’s last moments.
His arms flailed for a while, the kicking slowed down until his
purple face was screwed up in an ugly grimace. He was dead and
Yuri had started on a path he knew was leading to a big problem.
He made no attempt to hide the body, he chucked him
unceremoniously onto the floor and took the smart phone. He
pulled the console of the computer out of the desk, the wires
pulling along the monitor and peripherals with it, he knew nothing
about these things but judged he could stop it being of use with a
little fire. He checked the kitchen and found a small bottle of a
spirit, it was in another language but it was clear and he knew it
would burn. He poured it onto the console and lit one of the
matches he found for lighting the hob. He wasn’t concerned with
containing the blaze, as it would hopefully hide the murder of Petr.
As he shut the front door behind him, the flames had started to
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spread along the rug towards the couch, all good materials for a
fire.
As he walked slowly and calmly back to the car, he got a call
from Vitaly, he tried to sound normal which usually resulted in the
exact opposite.
“Yuri, where are you? I need you back here, there’s
something come up and we need to talk.”
Had he found out something about Saffy from another source,
it wasn’t likely but not impossible.
“Okay Boss, I’m just getting a sandwich, I’ll be about fifteen,
twenty minutes okay? See you there.”
He should have felt bad about what he’d done to Petr but he
couldn’t find it in himself to care, they lived in a dangerous world,
but they chose to do so. Saffy had been duped into it. Maybe he
could reason she should have known better, like all the girls, they
should have been happy with how things were, no one asked them
to throw their lot in with these bad men, but what he did know was
a baby had no choices and was not in any way culpable for the sins
of the parent, even a sick and twisted one like Vitaly.
As he drove through the west end, up and over the A40
flyover he was calm and restful, he had made a decision, he would
have to live or die by his actions from this moment on and this
brought a feeling of relief he hadn’t expected. As he drove past the
building Vitaly lived in, he saw a big man in a uniform getting out
of a white van, something about it looked wrong but he was
already past him and onto the next junction before he had worked
it out, it didn’t matter now anyway he guessed, and he forgot about
it as quickly as it had come to him.
286

Chapter Thirty­Three
Ricky was in his element, the whole thing about driving about
in a white van in a uniform was just the ticket for him. He would
gladly have this experience every day, bit as a second choice going
in to an address covertly for the purpose of assassination was a
good runner up.
The concierge hadn’t even checked his ID, commented on the
lack of a logo on his clothes or the big white van parked in the
visitor’s bay outside. He handed over the voucher which would
ward of the evil parking wardens for half an hour and left him to it.
He didn’t even go up and let him in, he just chucked him a set of
keys, which he said he could sign for when he came back down.
This was too easy and he remembered what Tom had said about
sods law being just waiting to catch you out if you got too cocky.
He tried to hold onto his excitement but it was all new to him and
Tom may have done this stuff before, but he was going to enjoy
the experience. The communal areas of the building were spotless,
thick hard wearing carpets lined long wide corridors decorated
with soft pastel colours and art deco prints spaced evenly along
them.
Ricky was suitably impressed, he loved his house and would
never consider selling, but he knew he could do so, and have a
pretty packet to buy somewhere cool and trendy like this, and have
enough left over for a country retreat somewhere, at least that’s
what Amber kept telling him. She had actually gone as far as
having a valuation done. He thought he might have needed to agree
to this before they went ahead, but apparently not, the guy had
been and gone while he was on the market with Benedict, it was a
steal at three million and they reckoned even in the current
economic climate he could sell very quickly. These properties
always went fast. She had gone mental when he just smiled and
said it was good to know, she wanted him to cash in, but he wasn’t
leaving his uncles house anytime soon, and he didn’t need to
release the money to get by just yet, not for a while according to
Elliot his accountant.
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Vitaly was on the third floor in flat thirty-three. Not a lucky
number for him Ricky joked to himself. He had the new cable box
under his arm in a new looking box, the seal looked untampered
with, but in truth the whole thing had been altered before they
resealed it, in the unlikely event of someone asking to see the box
and its credentials, they were all as they should be. Even the code
on the box tied up with its previous contents. This was a smooth
operation and he was impressed at Tom’s attention to detail. This
was what made him such a good SAS soldier he told himself, the
small things that usually got missed. If they had time, he would
have got the appropriate branding on the uniform and vehicle, in
this instance it hadn’t mattered too much, but Ricky got why it
would normally. The mark, as Tom called Vitaly in this case, had
to believe everything was as it should be. People noticed things out
of place or not as expected, even small things like wearing a
thousand pound watch while delivering parcels, would set alarm
bells ringing, likewise a thirty pound watch with a thousand pound
suit could give you away.
This all fascinated him and he rued the fact they would be
parting ways, it was a cause of real heart ache to Ricky, he hadn’t
banked on ever having a family other than maybe with Amber in
the future, and meeting Tom, he felt a connection that made sense
when Ben told him the truth. Knowing he was going to die made it
all the more poignant that they had so many similarities, apart from
the physical, they did stuff that others could see as alike. Ben
couldn’t see either of them, but heard stuff in their speech and turn
of phrase that made him smile, they were cut from the same cloth
he would say.
The flat wasn’t double locked and he was surprised there was
no internal alarm, he had reasoned there wasn’t one when the
concierge hadn’t come with him, but still this guy was a dangerous
villain with enemies. Surely, he should be a little more careful
about this stuff? Once inside Ricky whistled in admiration,
everything was sleek and modern, the big screen TV was top of the
range as were the surround sound speakers mounted on the walls,
he didn’t bother to look around, he was on a job after all, but he
could tell everything in this place was flash and pricey, the pictures
online didn’t do it justice in his opinion.
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The flats themselves had been built in an old clothing factory
from back in the days of the real rag trade, the walls were
extremely thick between the flats and they had solid ceilings, the
floors had been made to carry the weight of huge machines. Tom
had said this all lent itself to their plan and would cut down on
collateral damage. Ricky had nodded along then, looked it up on
Google when he was out of the room. He admired the fact that
Tom gave a shit about such things, he was a quality bloke and he
was proud to be his brother. Taking no time at all he unpacked the
new cable receiver and took the other away, there was nothing
wrong with it and they were quite hard to get hold of, so he would
probably keep it for his bedroom. On second thoughts he might be
keeping evidence and Tom was clear that there be nothing linking
Ricky to the attack. They had checked that the building didn’t have
cameras. One of the reasons Vitaly had chosen the place, the
concierge was supposed to be security enough.
With the old receiver removed, he went through the motions
of re -installing the wires into the new one, this was a waste of
time in his eyes, but Tom had made it clear, any trailing cables
might alert him to something and the plan goes to shit. He duly did
as told and sat the new receiver into its shelf on the very flash
cabinet it shared with the sound system. The last thing to do was
plug it in, this was the real worry for them both, if their
workmanship was even slightly found wanting, it could be a
serious problem right now for Ricky. He inserted the plug into the
wall, all good so far and then flicked the switch to on, he closed his
eyes for a second and waited, nothing. The red light on the front
came on as expected and he sighed. He quickly boxed the other
unit up and left, he looked back as he did, knowing he had been
instrumental in what was to come, he was proud of that fact.
As he waved goodbye to the concierge he pretended not to
hear him call for his signature, he would have signed anything but
his name, but not having to leave anything was a bonus for him.
He had left the keys in the flat anyway, Toms advice, and had
nothing to do but leave. He jumped into the hire van and headed
off, whistling as he went.
There was a rake of cameras trained on the streets he would be
using but he was pretty anonymous in a generic white hire van and
as long as he didn’t forget to pay his congestion fee or jump any
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lights he would be fine. The licence used to hire the vehicle was
fake, he had used a pre pay debit card to pay for it, which although
unusual wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary, he had sent a friend
to hire it anyway. It was just as easy to make a licence for his mate
as himself. Tom was as sure as he could be that they wouldn’t trace
this back to Ricky, he had even used his account to load the card
used, so if anything did come from that quarter it would link it to
him and he was likely to be either very dead or very close to it.
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Chapter Thirty­Four
As he entered the club Yuri was aware of something being
different, it was subtle and almost indefinable but it was there. He
put it down to his present mind-set, he felt guilty because he had
something to hide and this would increase his Paranoia in any case.
He was sure Andrei was deliberately avoiding his gaze, they
usually swapped a knowing nod as he passed by but not today.
There were no clients in yet and the girls were warming up on
the pole, not looking so sexy in baggy tops and leggings. He
walked through to the corridor and up to the door at the end, there
was laughing coming from the other side, he could hear Vitaly
over the others. He was clearly in a better mood than last time they
spoke, maybe he was clueless after all. He didn’t knock as he
pushed the velvet-covered door open and he clearly surprised the
occupants as it went silent instantly. There were three of the guys
in there, all his men and he knew them all well, they all nodded a
hello and got up to leave.
Vitaly thanked them for their time, joking he wouldn’t be
paying them overtime for laughing at his jokes. They shook their
heads in mock disgust and eased past the giant in their way, none
of them met his eyes as they passed, but he was always very
intimidating due to his size and reputation so this wasn’t unusual.
Vitaly was still grinning after his jest and Yuri relaxed a little, the
boss was in a good mood, and he wasn’t aware of anything about
today’s events.
Vitaly smiled, his face lighting up in genuine pleasure.
“Ah, big man, you’re here, good. I was worried you wouldn’t
make it in time for us to meet, I have to go soon, what’s been
happening? Any news on that bitch?”
This made no sense, on the phone he had seemed angry and
implied it was urgent he get back to the club, now he was all
sweetness and light.
“Well, there was some excitement about our spying mission,
but it turned out to be nothing. I spoke to Zo as well, and he said he
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had put the word out, it won’t be long I’m sure of it boss. Petr
didn’t answer my last few messages so I don’t know what’s going
on there just yet.”
He hoped he sounded as casual as he was trying to. Vitaly just
shrugged.
“Well, there will be other days and Petr is probably out buying
some geeky stuff with his wages, he’ll get back to you,” He smiled
as he said, “ Maybe tomorrow my friend.”
The whole thing felt wrong but Yuri couldn’t say why.
“Anyway, my friend I have to get going, do me a favour, can
you get the car out of the car park for me, it’s on Poland Street in
the NCP, if we leave it there too long we’ll get charged for a whole
day, you know how these robbing bastards charge the earth? Just to
stand still in this country?”
It didn’t seem too much to ask and he’d done it before, not
that particular car park but it didn’t matter.
“Yeah, no worries boss, I can send one of the lads, no
problem.”
Vitaly jumped at this.
“I have got them out looking for the black bitch so they won’t
be around, and Andrei has to get the bar sorted otherwise I would
send him, anyway, he always brings it back with a new scratch or
dent, he thinks he’s driving a Trabant, the fool.”
He got up and started to put his jacket on as he indicated the
keys on the desk.
“I have to get changed for a meeting tonight, Wainright has
asked for a truce and I want to make him squirm, see you later,
maybe?”
It was odd he never asked him to accompany him or at least to
drive him around but he was just glad he had accepted the story
about Petr and Saffy’s search. He patted him on the shoulder as he
passed him to get to the door.
“Yeah, see you later boss, be careful, yeah.”
He would have been very suspicious if he had seen the
malevolent grin on Vitaly’s face as he shut the door behind him.
He got on with some work in the office, he had to check the
dancer’s rotas and some other bits of housekeeping that Vitaly
never bothered with, and it was getting on for seven when he left to
get the car. Yuri had been in this car park before, he knew it was a
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little dingy and dark, but he wasn’t exactly worried about being
mugged, apart from his six foot five frame he was carrying, a very
nice Browning nine millimetre that could comfortably stop a
mugger at fifty paces.
The walk round to car park was quite chilly and he was
reminded of days back home where he could see his breath in front
of him, right up until May some years. The British moaned about
the weather all the time but they didn’t have weather in any real
sense. It never got too hot and certainly never got truly cold. They
made him laugh, he was wearing just his suit jacket and was
passing men in full on snow jackets. The car was on level two, so
he walked up the ramp rather than the stairs which always smelled
of piss, he’d rather risk getting hit by an errant car than have to
breathe in that stench, it got into your clothes and reeked for days.
As he came up the ramp, he thought he heard talking, this wasn’t
out of the question, it was a public car park, but if he wasn’t
mistaken they were speaking Russian. It was faint and he could
easily be mistaken, whatever, he felt quite safe and walked on up
to the specified second level.
The car was parked in the middle of a group of four, the other
spaces were empty and he thought it odd that only these bays
would be in use tonight. He hit the open button on the key fob and
was rewarded with the customary beep, beep and flashing hazard
lights. This was the cue the hidden men had been waiting for. He
was vaguely aware of someone moving behind him, but before he
could turn around to see what was happening, there was a loud
crack followed by a muzzle flash. He felt something solid punch
into his chest followed by a piercing pain like a fire being lit on his
shirt, he fell back under the weight of the blow and before he could
work out what was going on, another shot rang out, he felt it graze
past his left temple. He was now aware of two men walking
towards him from one of the parked cars. He recognised the closest
one straight away, but he couldn’t remember his name, the pain in
his chest was making his thinking frazzled, the other man stepped
under the strip light and he too was one of the guys he had seen in
Vitaly’s office earlier.
The penny dropped as from behind where he lay, a third shot
split the night. In all he was shot sixteen times, the third bullet had
entered the top of his head and killed him instantly. No one had
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called the police about the gunshots. A motorist collecting his car
nearly ran the body over as he came down the slope onto the
second level.
When Vitaly got the call, he was just coming out of the
shower, he was a little annoyed they had killed him so quickly. He
would have liked him to suffer for his treachery. He knew he
would have to explain his actions to the big boss but he had a
pretty convincing story lined up, and was confident they would see
it as a good thing.
He had got straight into the shower when he got home and
hadn’t even checked the front room. He had completely forgotten
about his cable being repaired, in fact he’d forgotten it was broken
in the first place. He threw his small towel onto the couch as he
wandered into the kitchen wrapped below the waist in a larger one,
his body was lean and well cut, his slightly yellowish caste made
him look healthy and tanned. He was thirsty and he felt he
deserved a drink, after all he had put an end to Yuri’s plans,
whatever they had been and no one could do anything about it. The
men up north would have nothing to say on the matter, they would
acquiesce to the situation or be shipped out. They would still be
useful to the organisation somewhere but not in London. It was
technically a demotion but tough shit. He poured himself a large
vodka, he would buy a paper tomorrow, now the dead girl was off
the front pages he might indulge in a little vanity and read all about
the dead giant. They would know he was Russian mob, his tattoos
would give it away. If they knew what to look for they would see
he was a killer, he was a loyal thief and respected by his peers, it
was scrawled all over his torso if they had the knowledge to
decipher it. As he walked through the lounge toward his bedroom
he wondered if it would have made the news channels. He was
literally passing the TV so he hit the standby button, the screen lit
up but showed no source, he remembered the cable had been out,
the box was off, they said it would be fixed today so he pressed the
red ringed button to fire it up.
The button ignited the firing mechanism, which in turn mixed
the two volatile chemicals together, this reaction caused a massive
release of power that threw the nuts and bolts outward at a
frightening velocity. The reaction increased exponentially and the
whole room was engulfed in a spurt of flame, pieces of hot metal
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flew in a focused pattern out of the front of the receiver box tearing
a bloody swathe through Vitaly. The flames scorched the wounds
as they appeared and he was shredded by molten metal, his broken
bones were spread by the blast until all that remained was a bloody
charred mess. His body parts, those still distinguishable as human,
were scattered around the room, which was now in flames as the
combustible material took up the blaze. He would have known
absolutely no pain, as the instantaneous explosion would have been
too fast for even a human’s incredible reactions to register
anything.
The sprinkler system kicked in as loud bells rang out
throughout the building, there were people running from the flats
on all levels in various states of undress. They had no time to get
anything but the closest of their possessions, as they were herded
towards the stairs by the most level headed of them. The smoke
was contained by the thick walls and firebreak doors that were a
requirement of the building regulations. By the time the fire
brigade got the fire under control the whole flat was nothing but
charred framework and ash, sodden ash at that. The immediate
suspicion was a gas explosion although it wouldn’t take a fire
investigation team too long to rule that out, they may not have seen
many IED’s in their regular work, but tonight they would see the
effects of a very cleverly created one.
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Chapter Thirty­Five
By the time Tom had heard that his plan had been successful`
he was en route to Leeds. He wanted to tell Ellen himself he had
failed, he would no doubt face a barrage of abuse, but he felt he
deserved it. He wouldn’t tell her about Vitaly’s death, he couldn’t
risk anyone speaking about his involvement in case he had missed
something and it implicated Ricky. He got confirmation on a TV
report while awaiting a connecting train at Birmingham New
Street.
He had deliberately taken a circuitous route to confuse any
would be investigators, although he hadn’t been anywhere near the
bombing he had left a trail of sorts, he wanted to ensure Ricky
would never crop up on any reports. He felt Mo would know the
right thing to do, he would have got it. According to the 24-hour
news channel the blast had not killed anyone as far as they knew at
this juncture, but the fire brigade were still assessing things and
there were a few tenants unaccounted for.
Tom let out a sigh of relief. He was sure there was at least one
fatality, he could hope that Yuri had been there at the time of the
explosion, but he knew that it wouldn’t have detonated without
someone pressing that button. As he sipped a cup of stewed tea
which was far too sweet he smiled to himself, the bastard would
never know what killed him, but he would burn in the lowest
reaches of whatever hell he believed in, for what he’d done and
that was victory enough for now.
His next train was due in five minutes and he would have to
get some assistance getting over to the platform, he hated the
feeling of being disabled but he knew it wouldn’t be for long, his
strength was fading fast and the coughing was more on than off
these days. He had held it together for Ricky’s sake but he knew in
himself things were moving fast, his capacity to breathe was very
low and the effects of having little oxygen were making
themselves known. He had constant pins and needles and where he
could feel, there was a constant pain as if he’d burnt all his
extremities. The pills were only working for an hour at a time and
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he was taking far too many in a day. He would run out very soon
and he had no idea of how to get more, you couldn’t just rock up to
A and E and say you need a refill. They were a controlled
substance and as such needed a very good reason for them being
prescribed. He didn’t doubt he could prove his need but could he
be bothered to go through the rigmarole again, he was done in and
wanted nothing more than to sleep and never wake up.
He started on his way to the assistance button you had to press
to get aid with mobility when his phone rang. He only had the one
phone now, Ricky had given him an iPhone, he had laughed at the
gift. He would literally be lucky if he used up the battery but it was
meant to be significant, he would think of Ricky whenever he used
it, which he didn’t like to say, was not going to be very often. His
number hadn’t changed so getting a call wasn’t out of the bounds
of reality and he fumbled with his crutches as he tried to get to it
before it rang off.
The large touch screen, which he had to slide his finger across
to answer, displayed a picture of Ricky in his stupid looking
baseball cap, he must have set it up before he gave it to Tom. Just
as he was despairing of answering it in time, he got the necessary
pressure on the screen to register his slide. He lifted the phone to
his ear, precariously balancing on one crutch as he did so.
“Hello mate, you shouldn’t be calling me, we discussed this
Rick, even on a throw away phone. If they get hold of this number
they can work out where you were when you called and all sorts
we haven’t even imagined yet.”
“Hold on Tom, I’ve got something really important for you.”
“I know you think it’s vital Ricky but whatever it is I can’t be
involved anymore, I have to disappear mate, just try and forget
about me.”
He was exasperated by him calling but didn’t want possibly
his last conversation with him to be a bollocking.
“Someone will contact you when I’m gone, so don’t worry
about that side of things, you really need to let go for now mate.”
Ricky raised his voice slightly to get his words over Tom’s
objections.
“Listen Tom, really, it’s big, we’ve found Saffy, do you hear
me mate? We’ve found her.”
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Tom was about to cut the call when he registered what had
been said.
“Say again mate, you’ve found her? Not you think you have?
You know for sure, is that what you’re saying? Because I can’t
handle red herrings mate.”
Glad he had at last got the news out he continued excitedly.
“Tom I’ve seen a picture, she’s in Brighton.”
Tom thought quickly, he knew it was on the south coast but
that was about it.
“What picture? I mean how do you get a picture, who would
have known?”
Ricky was calming down as he tried to explain things clearly.
“I told you I had put some feelers out didn’t I? Well one of
them came back with this picture from a mobile, they’ve been to
her house and she’s definitely there, well, she was yesterday
anyway.”
Tom was taken aback, this lad was truly a miracle from
heaven, he had written off his “feelers out “comment as bull. He’d
said something to a few mates was all he expected had happened.
“How on earth did you do this, Ricky, I mean if it’s her, this is
amazing, I’ll get a train back toward the south straight away. You
have to send me whatever you’ve got, and I’ll get there as soon as I
can.”
Ricky bit on this straight away, trying to get his own agenda
met.
“Why don’t you come back here? We can drive down there,
it’s only an hour and half from here, it’s a straight road, it makes
sense don’t it?”
Tom feared this would be his angle, which by finding Saffy he
would reunite them all, but the fact was the Russians may be ahead
of the game already and Yuri could be out there searching right
now.
“No mate, this changes nothing. We have to go our separate
ways, if things work out, maybe once I find a hospice you can
sneak down to see me, but not now Rick, it’s very important we
don’t get seen together.”
There was an element of sulky teenager in his voice.
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“Well, okay then, if that’s what you want then I’ll send you
an email on your phone with everything I‘ve got including the
picture, speak soon, yeah?”
The other end of the line went dead, he felt bad for him, he
done a great thing in finding her, which he struggled to believe at
this point. He looked over to where the nearest bench was, he
struggled over using the very last of his energy to get there unhurt.
He all but collapsed onto the wooden slatted bench and pulled
the flashy phone out to look at how to receive emails, did he need
another computer to connect up with? He had no idea and worried
he would die here never knowing what was going on. His talent for
listening and repeating came to the fore, he went through the short
lesson Ricky had given him. Even remembering his username and
password, a screen opened up to reveal a message from
rickythedoer@geezer.com. He had to wait a moment to allow it to
download and he fretted about this picture he had shown Ricky, an
old one, she was probably sixteen years old on a holiday in Greece,
but she wasn’t so different for it not to be of use.
Attachment loaded he expanded the image, he thought about
the last time he had done this, waiting for it to appear, it wasn’t a
pleasant memory.
He looked at the picture for a moment, taking in every detail,
he was impressed by the quality, although he shouldn’t have been.
The cameras on even the cheapest mobiles were much better than
you would have bought in shops a few years back. It was definitely
her, she was in profile and looked beautiful, fresh faced and just as
he remembered her. It went some way toward wiping the last
images he had seen out of his mind. A tear came to his eye as he
took in the whole thing, he had been on a high the last couple of
days, even with the illness increasingly corrupting his time. He had
lost the real focus of the mission, and here it was all in his lap,
thanks to a tenacious young man who was a complete stranger
when this all began. He now had Saffy’s whereabouts and a
brother to be proud of.
If he had known the expense Ricky had gone through to get
this information he would have been even more impressed. He had
handed the informant seven thousand pounds, they only wanted
five, but he said it was a bonus because he was so happy to have
found her. The address was in Portslade, which was one of the
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towns in Brighton. She was in flat 1 number 23 Highgate Park. It
sounded nice he thought and he hoped it was.
He knew he should get moving, the trains wouldn’t be running
for much longer and he had no clue about the route he’d need to
take. He assumed it would be into London, then out on another
train. He sat and thought for a moment about what he was doing, in
the field you had to evaluate your position, in regards to rations,
ammunitions, weapons and fitness if you didn’t have the necessary
gear you changed the plan. You didn’t climb a mountain with a
broken leg, you took the easiest route and did what you could, also
if the situation called for it, you evacuated and tried again under
better circumstance.
This was what he needed to do now, she was safe and well and
not likely to be moving anywhere overnight, he would stay in
Birmingham and travel tomorrow.
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Chapter Thirty­Six
After a bit of research on his new phone, he couldn’t believe
Ricky had been so right on this one as well. He found the best train
to get was ten past nine, it would take him to Euston where he had
to get over to London Bridge and on to Brighton. The journey was
down for three hours twenty minutes including the changeover, he
wished it could have been a lot quicker.
He was desperate to see her, hold her and tell her everything
was okay. Vitaly was dead, the news confirmed a body had been
found. Thankfully only one, he knew Yuri wasn’t there because he
had seen the story further down the schedule of the supposed
gangland killing of a leading figure in the Russian underworld. It
was reported he was unnamed but the eyewitness who they spoke
to said he had been huge, this was all Tom needed to hear. He
wondered if Ricky had a hand in this, but decided he couldn’t
have.
The train finally left, late as he expected it to be and he was
glad to be underway. He had been up all night coughing up thick
brown shit and blood, he was in pain but was down to his last few
tablets, he wanted to be in a decent state when they met so he held
off taking them until he was nearby. The swaying motion was
making him nauseous and he struggled into the toilet in case he
threw up. He was supposed to be getting a tube between Euston
and London Bridge but he wasn’t in any fit state to tackle the
London underground system with its crowds and escalators. He
would get a cab from the rank outside, it would be gone half ten so
it shouldn’t be too crowded.
While he was sitting on the toilet pan, no intention of going,
he took out the phone, he had left the picture on the main screen.
He had received a few texts from Ricky but hadn’t bothered to
check them out. He was frustrated that he was still using the old
contact number, he was probably safe from suspicion but to be
absolutely sure Tom wanted him to ditch the current phone and
leave it to him to get back in touch.
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The first message was a simple did you get the email okay,
and was it her?
The second asked if he was going to Brighton now, he could
check the trains and stuff if he wanted him to, and the last one was
concerned, was he okay. He hadn’t replied, was there anything he
could do?
The whole radio silence thing was farcical at this point so he
saw no harm in making a call. He didn’t like to think of Ricky as
worrying unnecessarily, so he went through the three numbers in
his contacts and hit the one for Ricky. Well, one of the ones for
Ricky. There were three, his actual number, the one he was
supposed to have dumped and the next one in his conveyor belt of
phones. As he waited for him to answer he had a coughing fit, he
leant forward over the small basin and spat more of the coffee
coloured phlegm up, as he did so Ricky answered. He heard the
terrible racking sound and was concerned.
“Tom, you okay Bruv? I’ve been trying to get you by text, I
was shitting it.”
He gasped for air as he tried to speak, when it did come out it
was gravelly, almost unrecognisable as his voice.
“I’m okay Rick, I stayed in Birmingham and I’m heading to
Brighton now on the train. I’ll let you know when I’m there, that
she’s safe. Then you have to dump this phone Rick, I mean it.”
“Well, okay, as long as you let me know it’s all good, you saw
the photo? It’s her ain't it?”
“Yeah, defo mate, well done for this Rick, you’re a star.
Honestly, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I thank the
heavens I did, I gotta go, be in touch, yeah.”
The line went dead and he leant over the basin again to hawk
up what was in his throat. The whole thing had left him completely
spent, and he had a long journey ahead of him, he managed to get
back to his seat and tried to rest as much as he could.
The rest of the journey was a blur, there had been a brief delay
due to signal problems and he had worried he’d miss the Brighton
train. Even taking into account the extra time a cab was likely to
take he still had roughly forty minutes to get from Euston to
London Bridge.
The cab journey was a white-knuckle ride, as he’d told the
cabbie about his impending train’s time and he was after a
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generous tip for getting him there. The jerky motion as they swept
round corners and roundabouts only made things feel worse. He
was done in by the time he sat on his train, relief flooding through
him.
He had been aware of a dull ache in the small of his back all
day and the constant coughing was making it worse, his inhaler
wasn’t having any effect on his lungs capacity and he was craving
the pain relief like a jacked up junkie. In many ways he was an
addict by this point and he could have been mistaken for one as his
hair had lengthened and his cheeks had sunk. He was scruffy by
his own standards, even Welsh Dave would have crossed the road
to avoid him and he was a fucking mess all of the time.
The train was pretty quiet, this wasn’t an especially good day
for Brighton, mid-week and raining, it was colder than one would
expect for late March. Tom wasn’t complaining, it gave him room
to relax and spread out, his broken leg had to be kept straight out in
front anyway. He had almost managed to doze off as the train
reached its terminus, typical he thought, but he was excited by the
chance to see Saffy and quickly shook of the disappointment of a
lost chance to sleep.
He gave the cab driver the address and wasn’t too impressed
when he punched it into a Satnav. He thought they were supposed
to spend years learning this stuff, although his Pakistani driver
hadn’t been in the country long enough to learn his way round, and
as long as it got him there in quick time, he could have cared less.
He had a serious coughing fit in the back of the car and the
driver was worried he was about to cop it in the back of his cab.
Tom tried reassured him he was fine, although the amount of blood
in his phlegm would have been enough to illustrate exactly how ill
he was. By the time they pulled up, he was just glad to have got
him there without a side trip to the local hospital, which ironically
was where he should have been anyway for various reasons. He
paid the driver with a twenty and told him to keep it, for a sixpound
trip this was unheard of, and from such an untidy looking
individual.
He was a few doors away from the actual address, and he
struggled along on his crutches, looking down the short paths at the
door numbers it turned out he was on the wrong side of the road.
He was looking at even numbers so he crossed over the road
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slowly, nearly being knocked down by a couple of teenagers on
mopeds. They swore at him as they sped by, he wasn’t interested
In them and carried on. He saw the number 23 on the nearest door,
he was struggling with the effort of forcing himself forward on his
crutches. He had tunnel vision at this stage, he just had to get to the
door, press flat 1 and he’d done it.
As he leant against the window ledge next to the door, he smiled,
and pushed the bell. No one came, he pressed it again. After
another coughing fit, still nothing. He pressed the other bell,
maybe they had got the flat number wrong? He didn’t even know
where the information came from so why trust it implicitly? He
was feeling the cold as he waited for an answer; he pressed both
buttons and banged on the letterbox in case the bells were out of
order. He knelt on the brown mat and shouted through the
letterbox, he was coughing and spluttering as he did so and his
shouting attracted a neighbour.
“Who are you looking for love? The lady’s been in a bit of
trouble, she’s in the hospital.”
His heart sank, had he misread the situation so badly, had they
found her already, before he had been able to act.
“Saffy, the black girl? You say she’s in hospital? Which one?”
The woman shook her head.
“No, not the young lady upstairs, she’s just gone to visit her. It
was Sally who got attacked, a junkie or something, horrible all the
same, mind you I think she’s called Sandra, the young black girl.”
His heart was beating out of his chest, he couldn’t take this
constant tension, he was relieved and disappointed in the same
breath. She was safe, using an alias most likely, but not here, not
yet, she couldn’t be at the hospital all day surely? It was midafternoon,
surely she had to come home to eat and stuff.
He thanked the lady for her time, she looked at him
suspiciously as he walked back down the road toward the park. She
was most likely going to notify the local neighbourhood watch of
his presence he thought, he couldn’t blame her, not with the shit
state he was in right now.
The elation had gone and he was left bereft of any feelings, his
chest was burning from inside and the back pain was too much to
bear. He would have to bite the bullet and take his final meds, he
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made it to a shabby looking bench, where Sally and Stewart had
sat just days ago.
His hands were shaking as he pulled the brown bottle from his
pocket, he was wearing a lightweight jacket usually favoured by
hill walkers and the likes for their shower proof capability. They
weren’t intended as a winter coat and he could feel the cold biting
as he forced himself to swallow the thick yellow capsules, without
water it was really very difficult and they stuck in his throat for a
moment before he gagged, and this pushed them down.
He settled back into the bench and waited for the drugs to kick
in. He slowly relaxed as the morphine entered his system, his
breathing slowed down and the absence of any pain was blissful in
that moment. As he closed his eyes he congratulated himself, he
had done it, he had found her and she was safe, all that was left to
do was get Ellen on the phone and he would have succeeded.
Jules would be happy, wherever he was, and he could rest for
a while. The feeling of contentment was wonderful and seductive,
he let himself drift on the wave of euphoria he felt flowing through
him. As the cold bit into him he was completely unaware of his
slowly fading breathing or the sudden lack of any feeling in his
body, his last thought was how happy Saffy and Ellen would be
now they were back together.
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Chapter Thirty­Seven
His body was discovered by a lady walking her dog in the
park, he had been very still all the while she walked around the
perimeter of the park. She noticed him there because she was on
alert since the recent attack. They had been in the park before it
happened she’d been told. She wasn’t sure why she eventually
spoke to him, maybe the lack of any vapour cloud as he breathed
made her suspicious, or she was just feeling neighbourly and was
worried he would be cold, his jacket didn’t look too warm.
The police came and they found his wallet, he had a number
with a 01432 code to be called in an emergency. He also had a
driver’s licence and an unusually large amount of cash. While the
ambulance came to take him away, Saffy passed the end of the
park. She still wasn’t happy to go through the park and the police
dealing with what seemed to be an unconscious wino was all the
reason she needed to bypass it completely. She wouldn’t have
recognised him anyway, he was a shadow of the man she had
known, he was just a grey looking corpse lacking anything of the
man Tom had once been.
The police suspected the money was stolen or funding a drug
deal until they dialled the number and were surprised when he was
identified correctly, but not as a vagrant, but as a serving British
soldier. Within hours, a green van arrived with a couple of very
serious looking men, not in uniform. The body wasn’t sent through
the normal channels and by the end of the shift, it was all done and
dusted, the paperwork was sent to a special desk up London and
that was that.
Tom was buried in the plot across from Jules in the graveyard
in Hereford. He was well represented by ex and serving military,
along with a brother no one had known existed and his childhood
mentor, who a few had heard about.
Ellen was there and was surprised to find herself tearful. The
eulogy given by Ricky was packed with emotion and her heart
broke for the young lad, as he explained how they had been
unaware of each other up until the very end of Tom’s life. He
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spoke of his pride and respect for everything he had stood for, that
he had learned the true depth of friendship and duty, and would be
a better man for the short time he’d had Tom in his life.
There was the usual speech from the commander, but this was
expected and no one paid much attention to his words anymore,
not in this place. Ricky was red faced and puffy eyed as they left
the church and went down to the local pub where a wake had been
arranged. Ricky was footing the bill for everything and they had
every intention of sending him off in style. What touched Ricky
most was the honour afforded Tom. He assumed dying of cancer
would leave him without the ceremony of a military burial but this
wasn’t the case.
As he listened to the men around him share tales of scrapes
they had been in with Tom and Jules, a lady he had seen in the
church came over to speak to him.
“Hello love, my names Ellen. I was an old friend of your
brothers, I just wanted to say you touched me with your words, he
would have been proud of you today.”
She patted the back of his hand and walked out into the rainy
afternoon. He tried to remember who Ellen was, but he was
distracted by the offer of a fresh pint. Ricky was absolutely
buzzing by the end of the evening, he had spent the whole day in
the company of some of the world’s best soldiers and heard tales of
Tom’s bravery and skill. He stayed the night in a room above the
pub with Ben, and travelled home in the morning talking Ben’s
ears off about all he had heard.
The investigation into the bombing had gone nowhere, the fact
Vitaly and his lieutenant had died within half an hour of each other
made it seem likely it was gang related. They went through the
motions but no one was too upset by the loss and it petered out
quite quickly.
The spooks went on to investigate the bomb maker but came
up blank as no one was in town with the suspected skills for this
work. The Russians themselves assumed it had been tit for tat, the
remaining guys had told them about Yuri’s execution and they
assumed he had set the bomb up before he got hit.
No one was looking elsewhere and Ricky was home free. The
only one who was in no doubt about the whole thing was Mo, he
had seen CCTV footage of Ricky in a white van outside the
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uilding on the morning of the attack. He wiped it straight away,
having some insight into what had caused this attack, he realised
Vitaly was no loss to humanity. He figured Tom had merely
carried out a public service as his last act, it was one less problem
for the overworked security services to deal with.
Ricky did eventually dump the phone after a week. He had
been waiting patiently for Tom to get in touch, so when he got a
call saying he’d been found in the park he couldn’t face throwing it
away. It was the last thing he had spoken to him on, and he was a
sentimental fool at times. Ben eventually convinced him it was
what Tom would have wanted.
The whole thing hit Ricky harder than he could have
imagined, his uncle and his partner dying had been difficult, he
couldn’t really remember Mums death, but this was all consuming
to him. He made arrangements for a nice headstone once the
ground had settled enough for it to take the weight, and he
arranged for the council to put a new bench on the spot he was
found. A donation of five grand to a local charity of their choice
helped, as did the five hundred pound to the councillor in charge of
these things. On it was a simple dedication, it just read, My
Brother Tom, nothing else was necessary.
In all the furore Saffy was completely forgotten, Ricky
assumed they had met and she would have gone away. Hence, no
show at the funeral and when he realised who Ellen was, it wasn’t
the right time to ask how it had all gone. In reality, the fact she
hadn’t mentioned her at all was clearly an indicator that it wasn’t a
good topic for her right now. She was included in the list of friends
and colleagues that were sent details of the bench and the charities
that Tom‘s name had been associated with. A women’s refuge
seemed right to Ricky even if it did get some odd remarks from
those who knew Tom, but charity was charity, so who were they to
argue and an injured serviceman’s organisation which needed no
explanation. Ellen had been devastated by Tom’s death, selfishly
because she was worried about what he had not been able to do,
was Saffy still out there in danger? She didn’t know who to ask,
and with Tom gone, the last link to Jules was now severed.
With the address of where to go on the small card sent by
Ricky, she set out one day by train to lay some flowers on the
bench. He would have been well aware he was dying when he took
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on her mission but he said nothing, and she was sure he would
have been leaving no stone unturned in his quest, regardless of his
own health.
It was a four and half hour journey, so she booked herself into
a sea front B&B. She had never been before and thought she might
like a day in the famous antiques market after her respects had
been paid. It was a warm sunny day as she climbed out of a taxi
beside the entrance to the park, she hadn’t carried the flowers all
the way from Leeds, she got a big spray at the station in London.
Her hay fever was playing havoc with her eyes and the flowers
weren’t exactly alleviating the problem. She walked through the
gate and walked to the nearest bench, it was too old to be Tom’s,
so she went around the perimeter of the park looking at each one,
there were twelve in all.
Saffy had been too busy fussing over Sally and getting her
spare room ready for the baby to pay any attention to what was
going on. She had heard about the dead vagrant, she thought she
may have seen it at the time, but the new bench wasn’t of any
interest. She was eight months gone now, and with Sally finally
able to come home next week she was in good spirits. Things
could be better she mused, but so could anyone’s life and from
where she had run from to now, it was a virtual Paradise these
days.
Her appointment with Mali had been the usual dross. They
didn’t have anything practical to discuss until the baby came now,
and her new position as Sally’s carer was keeping her mind off of
any problems she may have had that could have depressed her for,
now at least.
She thought about dad every now and then but kept putting off
getting in touch. She had now decided the baby would be the ideal
icebreaker, he couldn’t be angry with a beautiful new
granddaughter to dote on. She had asked the sex at the last scan
and she and Sally sat there trying to decide on names for ages. She
wanted something modern and hip and Sally was all about nature
and stuff. They hadn’t reached any compromise yet, but they
would and Dad would be pleased as punch to meet her. It was a
nice bright day so she decided to risk the park for a change. She
hadn’t done so since Sally had been attacked, but the flowers were
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out and she would enjoy seeing them today, and it felt right for
some reason.
As she came through the bottom gate there was a woman
leaning over a bench, she shook her head and stood up ready to
walk towards Saffy. She seemed familiar even before she stood
and Saffy assumed it was one of the neighbours, but when she
turned to face her she let go of her shopping. A loud clunk sounded
as the tins hit the tarmac path. The woman, Ellen, stopped dead in
her tracks, too scared to believe what she was seeing. Could it
really be her? Saffy looked around to see if this was a trick, was
she dreaming, how could her mother be here, after all she had been
through, how could she just be here, now, on this bright sunny day
in the heart of Brighton? It made no sense.
Ellen stared for a moment longer, she looked at her daughter
in disbelief. She was heavily pregnant but otherwise looked well,
her fresh beautiful face was lighting up as she smiled.
“Mum, is that you?”
Ellen ran over the twenty or so paces between them and
grabbed her in a tight hug, sobbing into her shoulder.
“Yes, my love it’s me.”
As they stood on the spot for what felt like ages locked in an
embrace, Ellen looked to the sky and silently sent a thank you, to
Tom,
The End
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