SAVING HARRY a gripping crime thriller you won’t want to put down

by Dan Latus

  The waves of pain eventually started to recede, giving her space to think. She decided then that she had to find a way of getting out of the cell. If she stayed here, sooner or later she would die. Sooner, probably. It was as simple as that. Either she would waste away or Petrov would shoot her because she continued to deny knowledge of Harry and his whereabouts.

  One thing she knew with certainty was that no one would come to rescue her. No one would even know where she was, or ever be able to find her.

  She guessed she hadn’t been taken far. There had been no need to leave Kiev. It was a big city, with a cellar beneath every single building. Much easier and more convenient for them if they kept her there.

  She was guessing, of course, but in a way, she felt encouraged by that thought. Kiev was good. She knew Kiev. If she could only get out of her cell, she would be able to manage. She would find her way to Harry.

  But how to do it? She could see no way out of the concrete basement that was her prison, and every time a key rattled in the door, she waited for Petrov to enter, come to torture and then shoot her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vancouver Island. September 2018.

  We stopped at the Chipmunk Lounge & Resort, a sprawling log cabin complex that must have been a tourist’s delight, just north of Parksville. We had our own log cabin amongst the surrounding pines and cedars, and we were able to park the truck right outside the front door.

  ‘It’s quiet,’ Harry said with satisfaction. ‘I’ve stayed here before.’

  I nodded, but I did wonder if it was such a great idea to be somewhere so secluded, and so hemmed in by trees. My preference would have been to be behind thick stone walls, with open views on all sides. It made me wonder where Harry had done his spying. City centres, probably.

  ‘Fancy a beer?’ he asked.

  ‘Now you’re talking!’ Smiling, I added, ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  We dumped our stuff in the cabin and headed to the bar alongside the reception area in the main building. A cold beer seemed a very good idea now the day had warmed up enough to justify the forecast.

  The half-dozen people already in the bar were dotted around at separate tables having a slow day, watching the grass grow out front and the needles drop from the surrounding conifers.

  ‘It’s quiet here,’ Harry said again.

  ‘It certainly is. Do I gather that’s welcome after whatever’s been happening in your life recently?’

  ‘Recently, and for many years before that,’ he said with a grimace.

  I decided to cut to the chase. ‘Tell me what the problem is, Harry. Who’s after you? And why did you tell Henderson you wanted me out here with you?’

  ‘Presumptuous of me, wasn’t it?’ he said with a weary sigh. ‘After all these years.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, Harry. It was certainly a big surprise. But never mind. Here I am. Ready to do whatever I can to help.’

  ‘They are paying you, I assume?’ he said tartly. ‘I’m not a charity case?’

  ‘Touchy!’ I said, and laughed. ‘Yes, they are. Generous expenses as well.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘But I might have come anyway, since you asked for me specifically. Curiosity, or just the flattery of being asked would probably have brought me. If I could have got the money together for the air fare, that is.’

  He chuckled. ‘Business not doing too well?’

  ‘Business is fine, Harry. But long-haul trips to the other side of the world are not part of my usual routine. The petty cash would have faced a challenge.’

  ‘They are part of my routine, unfortunately,’ he said, with a frown. ‘I can scarcely recall what Cleveland and our old hometown look like.’

  He was being disingenuous. It was getting a little tiresome.

  ‘Why am I here, Harry? What do you want me to do? If it comes to that, what are you worried about? Who’s threatening you?’

  He shrugged. ‘A bunch of Ukrainians — or Russians. Depending on how you look at it.’

  ‘What do they want?’

  ‘Something I have — and then to see me dead, basically. Seeing me dead is probably top of their wish list.’

  I was tempted to say that didn’t sound much to worry about, but Harry was no longer in a joking mood. He was looking very intense, and strangely far away. I decided not to press him further for the moment. Bearing in mind what Henderson had said, I couldn’t risk it. I would just have to be patient and let him tell me more in his own good time. Soon, though. It would have to be soon.

  It was looking as if Henderson was right, after all, to be so worried about him. Harry was on edge and struggling to hold it together. I could see that.

  You never know what people who find themselves in that position will do. One minute they’re soaring above it all effortlessly, the next they’re in the depths of despair. The ones that survive manage to fence off the bad stuff, I suppose, and hang on until blue skies return. You just can’t tell in advance who they’ll be.

  I didn’t know yet if Harry was capable of rising above the problems besieging him. Nor did I know if the threat tormenting him was physical or mental, or even real or imagined. But that didn’t matter. It was obviously real and tangible enough to him, whatever its true nature. That was enough for me.

  For now, at least, my role seemed to be to hold out a friendly hand and help him manage and cope. First, I wanted to get him to relax a little, and then persuade him to share the enormous load he seemed to be carrying. Ordinary conversation about everyday things, and our mutual experiences seemed a good place to start.

  ‘Do you ever go back home, Harry?’

  ‘Home? Redcar, you mean?’ He looked puzzled for a moment. Then he shook his head. ‘No, never. Not for many years.’

  ‘You’ve been too busy globetrotting and seeing the world, have you?’

  ‘Most of the messy bits,’ he admitted with a rueful grin.

  ‘On Her Majesty’s Service?’

  He nodded.

  It was a pretty banal way to start doing catch-up, but Harry seemed to welcome it. Perhaps he’d been starved too long of the small-change currency of everyday life.

  ‘How did you get into that line of work?’ I asked. ‘Henderson didn’t say.’

  ‘No. He wouldn’t.’

  ‘The last I heard, you had a job in London — in the City, I seem to recall. International banking, wasn’t it?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s how it started. Then one thing led to another.’

  ‘The way it does?’

  ‘The way it does.’

  After a moment, I picked up my glass and examined the pale contents the sunshine was turning gold. ‘Pilsener,’ I murmured, reading the label on the nearby bottle. ‘Labatt’s. A Canadian brewery?’

  ‘Originally it was. Now it’s just part of some multinational mega company, like everything else these days.’

  After another long pause, Harry broke away from his thoughts and picked up his own glass. ‘Pilsener. Not the real thing, of course, but good enough. Have you ever had proper pilsener?’

  ‘I have. What they just call Plzen in South Bohemia?’

  ‘That’s the one!’ Harry chuckled. ‘So, you’ve been there?’

  I nodded. ‘Once or twice.’

  ‘I quite liked that country when I was stationed there for a time. Nothing special, really, but stable and uncomplicated. Boring as hell, mind!’

  ‘Not always a bad thing, though, is it?’ I said.

  ‘Indeed, it’s not.’

  He reflected a moment or two, and then added, ‘Banking was like that. To me, at least. Boring. I came to feel it wasn’t why I’d been put on the planet. I should have had more sense, and more patience,’ he added with a wry smile. ‘I wouldn’t have found myself in this mess if I had.’

  ‘Presumably somebody saw how it was and how you were, and said, “Come with us, Harry lad! Have an exciting life.” That how it was?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

&nbs
p; A waitress came over to see how we were doing. We ordered a couple more beers. Perhaps we shouldn’t have, but we were easing into it quite nicely and I didn’t want to spoil the mood.

  ‘What about you, Frank? I know a bit about what you’ve been doing, but I have no idea how you got into it.’

  The fresh beers arrived before I could reply, giving me a few moments before I needed to respond. Then I kept it brief. I was more interested in hearing how he knew about me.

  ‘Not much to tell, really. I just stumbled into it, and at last found something I was quite good at. That made a welcome change.’

  ‘You seem to be spread pretty wide. Insurance investigations, security consultancy, bodyguarding and so on.’

  ‘Yep. Whatever comes in, I’ll take a look at it. Cash flow can be a problem at times. There’s no salary — or pension at the end of it, either. But the business is viable, and I manage to keep my head above water.’

  Harry frowned. ‘It must be satisfying, working for yourself.’

  ‘Well, you don’t get rich. And I won’t get a knighthood — or whatever you lot get — at the end of the day.’

  ‘There is that,’ he agreed. Then paused. ‘If I survive.’

  I took it that Harry wasn’t really retired, despite what I’d been told by his boss. It was more likely that he’d just been temporarily parked — or had parked himself. Whatever. He was still one of Henderson’s boys. At some point he would no doubt start playing again, in whatever game was running at the time.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been following my career, Harry?’

  He laughed. ‘Let’s just say you trespassed on one or two areas in which I had an interest and dealt with one or two people of concern to me. Russians, in particular. You’ve met Russians, haven’t you?’

  ‘A few. In different places.’

  ‘Including the late Mr Borovsky?’

  ‘Him too,’ I said, surprised that he knew about my involvement with Borovsky. But the secret world is probably a small community. No doubt news travels fast.

  ‘Then that business in Prague, with the gangsters and our Mr Podolsky?’

  ‘Our Mr Podolsky?’

  Harry grinned. ‘Didn’t you know?’

  I didn’t, but I declined to respond. I was struggling too much with learning what he knew about me and wondering what else Giles Henderson had told him.

  ‘You’re very well informed,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘About some things. It’s why I wanted you here with me.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering about that. A lot.’

  He dodged that one.

  ‘You like what you do, Frank?’

  I shrugged. ‘Most of the time. Nobody to give me orders. I work when I please, and I only do jobs that appeal to me. Not big money, but I’m low maintenance and have few overheads.’

  ‘Must be nice.’

  ‘It suits me.’

  What I didn’t add, because it might have sounded too corny, was that I also liked the satisfaction I got out of doing some good in the world. I didn’t want to appear to be a starry-eyed idealist — Harry might have put me on the first plane home.

  ‘I used to feel some of that,’ he said slowly, reading my thoughts. ‘That I was doing something worthwhile.’

  Then he swallowed his beer in one long gulp and got to his feet. I looked up at him.

  ‘I need some fresh air,’ he muttered, before turning and heading for the door.

  I stayed where I was and finished my beer at a gentler pace.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Harry Stone was used to doing things his own way and, in a day-to-day sense, being answerable to no one. He was also used to working and being alone and self-sufficient. Much of the time, his was a solitary life. He might be amongst other people when he was working, but they were rarely on his side. At best neutral, as often as not they were potentially hostile, or actual enemies. So, confiding in others didn’t come easily to him. Johanne was the single exception, the only one he had ever found, but she wasn’t here with him now.

  Frank Doy was giving him problems. He was asking too many questions. Harry didn’t like that. It was frustrating and confusing. It made him feel defensive, when he didn’t want to be. Besides, there were things he just couldn’t tell him. Frank was an outsider. His values might not be the department’s. There were things he didn’t need to know, and things he shouldn’t. He hadn’t signed the Official Secrets Act.

  On the other hand, he needed Frank. At least, he needed someone by his side, and on his side, and he hadn’t been able to think of anyone better.

  It was just that he hadn’t realised how much he would have to explain. In the world he was used to, things were compartmentalised, and so were people. They did what they were asked to do and accepted what they were told without requiring answers to their questions every step of the way. Frank was different. He was used to doing things in another way, a civilian way.

  As he wandered through the woodland around the resort, Harry ran through some of this, and came to the inescapable conclusion that he would have to tell Frank more than he had planned to, possibly a lot more, and soon. Otherwise, he could see him getting up and leaving, which he didn’t want to happen. That would be a disaster.

  Telling Frank too much at the wrong time might also be a disaster, of course. So, it was a matter of finding the right moment and the right context and judging what it was advisable and safe to let him know.

  At the edge of a sandy bluff overlooking a tranquil bay, he paused and stared out across the sea to the small islands in the foreground and the snow-capped high mountains on the mainland beyond. It was a fine sight, but it left him unmoved. His thoughts were all about Johanne now. Where was she? Was she safe?

  He wondered if he had done enough, and if his plan would work.

  * * *

  Petrov had seemed to be in a surprisingly good mood when Harry had taken the plunge and called him.

  ‘I have something you want,’ Harry said, ‘and I believe you have something I want.’

  ‘That is possibly true.’

  ‘Then let’s deal.’

  Petrov laughed. ‘You think it is as easy as that?’

  ‘It could be — both sides willing.’

  ‘You are the eternal optimist, Harry.’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘No deal, Harry. You know the price of treachery. Now you must wait, and suffer, before you die.’

  ‘Let’s cut the garbage, Dmitri. I have the package. You know that. I will hold onto it so long as the woman is unharmed. So, Moscow will not know you have lost it. I will give you back the package, unused, in exchange for the woman. Understand?’

  Petrov laughed again. It was a chilling sound.

  ‘You think you can bargain with me? Keep the package — keep it with you! The moment you give it to NATO, I will know. Then the woman will be dead. Do you understand me, Harry?’’

  Harry ended the call.

  It had gone pretty much as expected. Not well. But at least he had placed his counter on the board.

  Petrov could probably find where he was now. Then he would send his men for the package, as well as try to kill him. Meanwhile, holding Johanne was Petrov’s way of ensuring his continued silence.

  Harry knew exactly where he stood. Petrov had Johanne, and probably wouldn’t harm her so long as he didn’t release the package. Once Petrov got the package back, of course, neither he nor Johanne would remain alive for long. That’s how it was. Stalemate.

  Even just to stay alive, and keep Johanne alive, Harry knew he needed help, but not from Giles Henderson. Henderson would see it as his duty to get hold of the package by whatever means needed, even if that meant sacrificing Johanne and himself as collateral damage. Harry saw it differently. That was another reason he had wanted Frank’s help. A civilian like Frank might see things differently.

  It wasn’t guaranteed, though. He was afraid that if he spelled all this out, Frank would simply quit. For now, Harry conclude
d, he would just have to carry on, do the best he could, and hope something turned up to sway things in his favour. He had no idea what that might be.

  Chapter Twenty

  What had I learned about Harry so far? Not a lot. Not much more than Henderson had told me. Harry could hold it together for a while, but he was obviously in a bit of a state. Exhausted. Distracted. Full of doubts and fears. Well, not fears perhaps. But paranoid and pursued by possibly illusory devils. If it hadn’t been for what Henderson had told me about the enemies closing in on Harry, I might not have taken too much notice of what he’d said about Russians and Ukrainians. As it was, perhaps they really were there, somewhere in the mix, along with God knows what else.

  I felt sorry for my old pal, but I didn’t know how much I was going to be able to help him in a practical sense. I could watch his back and fight alongside him, if it came to that, but the stuff going on in his head was beyond my expertise.

  There was one other thing I could help him with, though. Sleep deprivation is no joke. At least I could be of use with that. There was no need for both of us to be awake all the time.

  ‘You need to tell me more about the problems you’re facing,’ I told him that evening. ‘If I’m supposed to be watching your back, what am I looking out for?’

  ‘What did Henderson tell you?’

  ‘Next to nothing. He said he would leave it to you to explain things. He also said you didn’t trust him — or his people either.’

  ‘With good reason.’

  I let that lie for a few moments. Then I said, ‘Come on, Harry. You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on. Otherwise, I can’t be of any use to you. You mentioned Russians?’

  ‘Or Ukrainians.’

  ‘Not sure which?’

  ‘They’re ethnic Russians, people who regard themselves as Russian and speak Russian, but who live in Ukraine and are Ukraine nationals. They were caught on the wrong side of the border when the Soviet Union collapsed.’