I hate him. I want him dead.
Would Vasily help me if I asked him? Would Konstantin? Would they take me in and give me shelter and hunt these shadowy men down? Find out who they are working for? I used to think, at first, these men were a secretive part of the British State; now I know they most certainly are not.
“I might have failed to screw him, but I got to work for him, and I got to visit his home in Corfu. I’ve given you all the information I can on the man.”
“Is his partner friendly with you?” Number One asks.
I shrug. “We get on okay, but I don’t really know her.”
“Change that. If you go back again, get to know her. Become her new best friend. She’s probably missing her girlfriends out there. Get to know her and get invited to the beach again. It sounds like they are relaxed there.”
I laugh in disbelief. “You want me to do what at the beach? What the hell are you hinting at? I don’t call it relaxed. With an armed guard and Konstantin armed?”
“Does he swim?” Number Two asks.
I nod. “Yes, but he takes his gun in with him, in a plastic bag. Don’t forget he’s Spetsnaz.” I shake my head. “He’s not an ordinary Joe or a street guy.”
“Oh, we know what he is.” Number Two smiles sadistically.
“Can I see her?” I ask, hating myself for showing this weakness. I let them use my one weakness against me. I should walk away, but then I have no doubt they’d harm her. This way, she gets a fighting chance. If I die doing this, which seems highly likely with the way things are heading, at least Esme gets to live.
Number Three opens his briefcase and takes out an iPad. He opens it, puts it on the desk, and messes around for a moment. I hear her voice before I see her. My baby.
She’s seven now.
Her uniform is pretty. I wish they’d tell me which school it is they have her at now. I’ve seen her in three different uniforms to date. I’ve looked them up, but found nothing. None of them have anything distinctive like a school coat of arms by which to go on.
She’s playing, squatting down, looking at something on the ground.
A shadow looms over her, and a horribly familiar voice says, “Don’t touch that, Esme. It’s poisonous.”
Number Two. He’s with her in this video. Oh God.
I cover my mouth because I feel like I’m going to throw up.
He hunkers down and smiles at her. She smiles back, and it’s fond. She knows him.
“Don’t touch that,” he says again. “It’s a brown tail caterpillar, and it’s toxic.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
He smiles at her, and it’s gentle. Nice. Oh my God, who is this man? I don’t for a moment believe the pleasant mask he’s wearing for my daughter, but the fact he can do it so convincingly makes him even more dangerous than I first feared.
“It’s dangerous. See those hairs?”
She peers close at the caterpillar and nods.
“They can stick in you and hurt you.” Then he looks right at the camera. “Sometimes the most beautiful things can be unexpectedly deadly.”
He reaches out and pats her hair.
I’m covered in a cold sweat.
“We tell you when you’re done,” Number Two says. “And you will be. Very soon. We have one last job for you, and then you’re finished.”
“You’ve said that before.” I don’t believe him.
Number One takes the iPad and brings up a new screen. It’s a picture of my aunt. The only other family I have left apart from Esme. She’s a kind woman, from what little I remember of her, and she lives on a farm. My uncle was a funny, laid back man, and I used to like visiting them with Mum when I was little.
Why are they showing her to me?
“When you’ve done this last job, a million pounds will be wired to your aunt, and Esme will be sent to stay with her. You’ll be declared officially dead.”
What?
No, no, no. Doing this was always about Esme and I being able to lead a life together.
He smiles at me, and it holds what looks like real pity. “There’ll be no coming back for you after what we need you to do, and you’ll need to go into hiding. Your daughter will be safe with her great aunt. She can have a good life.”
These men aren’t amateurs. They are powerful enough that they knew everything about me when they first recruited me, and they are powerful enough to run whole schools it seems where they keep the children of their forced workers. Because I am forced. I don’t do any of this willingly. In the past, they threatened to sell my daughter to human traffickers if I didn’t do what they instructed. Number Two would; I have no doubt of that at all.
Shit.
“What will you want me to do?”
Number Three shakes his head. “All in due course. For now, you go on home and wait until you hear from us. Fuck Vasily if you get the chance, and tell us all you can in the report, but he won’t be your mark going forward. Doesn’t mean we can’t use the information, though. Other than that, get yourself invited back to Corfu if you can, and await our instructions.”
I leave the room on shaky legs. This can’t be good. It has to be very bad indeed. I have no doubt it’s something to do with Konstantin and his men. What, I don’t know, but it means when I’m finished, I’ll be a dead woman walking.
Chapter Twenty-one
Bohdan
I call K and tell him I’m coming to Corfu with Dasha and her mother. I say I’ll book a hotel if needs be, if Andrius doesn’t want us on his land. He’s so paranoid he might not want us there if Jasper poses a possible threat. K calls me back thirty minutes later to tell me we can come and that one of the guard houses is free. We’re waiting at the airport to board the flight, and I find myself wishing that K hadn’t sold his airliner. The private jet would have been damn good right about now.
We’re in the First Class lounge, and Dasha is sipping at a glass of chilled orange juice.
“This is nice,” her mother says.
Her words surprise me. Surely with the money Jasper has, money he made off Dasha, they travel in style all the time?
“You don’t normally fly First?” I ask.
Dasha shakes her head. “No. Jasper says it’s a waste of money.”
I laugh. “That old furniture he loves is a waste of money, if you ask me. This? Comfort, leg room, priority check-in, is most assuredly not a waste of money.
When we board the plane, I relax into the comfy seat with the aforementioned leg room and close my eyes. There’s so much to say to Dasha, but none of it can be said in front of her vile mother.
Wheels are in motion. I’ve got the lawyer looking into things for her, and hopefully soon she’ll be able to wrestle control back from that fucker, Jasper.
My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my pocket. It’s Damen. I can’t talk to him with Dasha next to me, so I get up and wander down the aisle, toward the toilets.
“Yeah?”
“So, I’ve done some very thorough research of Jasper. He’s a dodgy fucker but nothing you can’t handle. Yes, the lawyer he uses is feared and thought to be a mob lawyer, but Jasper knows him from back in the day. They went to college together. I think the stuff he’s doing for Jasper is friends’ favors, you know? There doesn’t seem to be any link between Jasper and the actual mob in Paris. Plus, the mob in Paris isn’t what it was either. It’s in flux like everywhere, and many of the old French and Italian mafia families have been replaced and displaced by up-and-comers from places like Albania and Poland. I doubt very much that Jasper has any sway with any big families.”