Whatever It Takes

by Barbara Elsborg

  “Maybe Qash is more interested in the women they traffick, though that means he’s definitely not gay.”

  Zain shuddered.

  “Did he talk about women in Syria?”

  “He had no respect for Western women, but he was respectful to my mother. He was kind to my sisters. How much do you know about what he and Dima do? The detail of it.”

  Roman stopped eating. “Why?”

  “I was thinking… Maybe it would be a good thing if Dima and Qash were arrested.”

  “And me?”

  Now Zain stopped eating. “I don’t want you to get arrested. If I had, I’d have gone to the police and told them about that wallet.”

  “If you went to the police and told them now, with my car burnt out, I’d look guilty of Sheripov’s murder. Even though I wasn’t involved in the actual murder, destroying my car is perverting the course of justice. It makes me an accessory.”

  “You told me you had an alibi for the night he was killed.”

  “I was with Helen.”

  “And I’m an alibi for the night your car was burnt.” Zain sighed.

  Roman gave a short laugh. “I could still have arranged for it to have been done.”

  “Did you?”

  “No comment.”

  Zain gulped. Better to change the subject. “Do you have a lot of friends? What sort of things do you do? Go to clubs and bars and concerts? How do you fill your spare time?”

  “I don’t have any friends.”

  Zain was silent for a moment. “Except for Helen.”

  “Except for Helen.”

  Why wouldn’t Roman tell him the truth?

  “You went into the bedroom together,” Zain said quietly.

  Roman pinned him with his gaze. “You heard what we said?”

  “Not once you were in the bedroom.” He pushed his plate away. His appetite had gone. “Would you go to prison for the work you do for Arkady?”

  “Yes.”

  “For long?”

  “The maximum sentence for money laundering is fourteen years. The length of the sentence depends on how much money is involved and where that money’s come from. If it’s drugs or terrorist related or from sex trafficking, the sentence would reflect that. And the money is confiscated, which pisses off the people it belongs to who aren’t always caught.”

  “How long do you think you’d get?”

  Zain saw a muscle twitch in Roman’s jaw. “Maybe ten years.”

  “How long would you serve?”

  “If I’m a good boy, five.”

  “Then you’d be out just as I qualified as a doctor.” Zain stared at him. It was still too long apart. Roman would refuse to let him wait and Zain had to fight the urge to follow Roman even when he went to the bathroom. “If you provided the police with information, you’d get a lesser sentence, right? Is that worth thinking about? You’d be out of this.”

  “If I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t last long in prison.”

  Zain groaned. “Why aren’t you worried sick?”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  “Then stop what you’re doing. There’s so much more you could do. You’re smart and clever. You could do something worthwhile.” He paused. “Can you stop?”

  “I could try.”

  “Do you want to? Are you going to? Was all that about telling me to be patient because you’re planning something?”

  Roman didn’t answer.

  “What if we ran?” Zain slid his fingers onto Roman’s hand where it rested on the table.

  “Where to?” His voice cracked. “On what grounds could you ask for entry into another country? You have refugee status here. I’m on a six-year visa working for Arkady. If I stopped working for him, I’d be sent back to Russia.”

  “Apply for asylum.”

  “As a gay man? Russia might not have a good record as far as LGBTQ rights are concerned, but I have no history of being persecuted or discriminated against because of my sexuality. Hiding that I’m gay works against me. Claiming I’m gay would be seen as a ploy to avoid being sent back.”

  Zain lifted his fingers from Roman’s hand. “I’ve kept telling myself—this is all I’ll get. I’ve tried not to believe it was true, but it is, isn’t it?”

  “I want you to be safe.”

  My heart. The pain was so bad, Zain stumbled as he pushed to his feet. He couldn’t do this anymore. It would never work. The longer he waited, the harder it would be to walk away. He’d confided in Roman but Roman was holding something back. “I don’t want to stay with you any longer.” I want to stay with you forever.

  Roman’s eyes widened.

  “This might have started as sex but it’s more than that to me. We’re talking. Getting to know one another. I even looked up what Russians… I read that Russians don’t talk much about their hearts but a lot about their souls. Dusha dushe. Soul to soul. I get glimpses of the real you but you’re hiding something. Maybe it is better that I don’t know what that is. But I know that the more time we spend together, the worse I’m going to feel when we part.

  “I’ve had my heart broken so many times, I’m not sure I can cope with anymore. I need to put an end to this now.” Tell me to stay. “I’ll go to a hotel outside the city and just come in on the day of the test. I know you’re worried about me and I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine.” Eventually.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I don’t think you know what you want.”

  “I want you…not to just walk out.”

  If he’d not added the last part of that… Zain sighed. “I’m not going anywhere tonight. I’ll leave tomorrow.”

  He walked out of the kitchen desperate that Roman call him back. But he didn’t.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roman sat in the kitchen, staring at nothing. It had crossed his mind to make the relationship with Helen into something it wasn’t, to lie in order to push Zain away, but he hadn’t. Zain had pushed him away. Disaster was unfolding like a slow-motion car crash. There would be nothing he could do to stop it happening. Zain would leave and Roman needed to let him go.

  The safest, most sensible, decent thing to do was get Zain safely past this university test, give him enough money for a place to stay, enough to tide him over until he found a job and—most important of all—put him on a train out of London. Roman didn’t add—and never see him again—to that list, though he knew he should have. The less Zain knew, the safer he was. The safer they both were.

  He found himself rerunning their conversation. He wasn’t used to having anyone worry about him, let alone someone contemplating a future with him. He was glad Zain hadn’t been able to see his heart banging in his chest or understand the way hope had rushed along his veins. He was touched in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time. But those sensations were fleeting because Zain was going to leave and Roman was going to let him.

  Unless—maybe—unless he was honest. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d wanted to be totally honest with anyone, but the desire to tell Zain the truth burned like phosphorous inside him, the urge to make him understand that things weren’t exactly as they seemed. I’m bad but not as bad as you think. I want you. I want you.

  The deal with Helen was immunity from prosecution. No prison, though maybe a prison of a different sort if there was no Zain in his life. Because that was what it came down to. Roman was going to lose him because he couldn’t tell him the truth. Maybe lose him if he did.

  Roman headed upstairs and met Zain walking down.

  Zain exhaled. “No way can I sleep. Do you want to watch a film?”

  “Okay,” somehow emerged from Roman’s mouth. Is he giving me another chance?

  When Zain clung to his hand as they walked upstairs, Roman’s throat closed up. Zain sat half on his lap as they settled in front of the screen, then neither moved nor said a word, just rested his head on Roman’s chest. They’re weren’t talking but Roman had never felt closer to him.

  Do not tell
him the truth!

  But if I did?

  I can’t.

  Maybe when I put him on the train?

  Why? So he doesn’t think the worst of you? So that he’ll want to see you again?

  Let it go.

  Let him go.

  I can’t.

  Zain fell asleep in his arms while Roman’s brain still churned, but by the time the credits rolled, he’d made a decision. Roman nudged Zain awake.

  Zain jolted. “Has it started yet? Did you eat all the popcorn? I don’t want to leave you really. You were supposed to come after me and you didn’t so I had to come to you. But if you want me to go, then—”

  “I’m working undercover.” Oh fucking hell, did I actually say that?

  “I’ll leave London for good. You won’t need to worry about me anymore. I know that you… What…did…you say?” Zain stared at him wide-eyed in the gloom of the media room.

  Roman opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  “Roman?”

  “Can you try and forget I told you that? Not ask me about it? Please.”

  “You don’t say please very often.”

  “I save it for really important things.”

  Zain stared at him without blinking, then gave a faint nod.

  “You still want to leave?” Roman asked. “You should.”

  Zain swung his legs either side of Roman’s hips and wrapped his arms around him. “Am I allowed to love you?”

  Roman jolted and Zain tightened his hold.

  “Could I stop you?” Roman mumbled. Why would he want to? He loves me? The thought stirred heat into his lower belly and warmth surged towards his heart.

  “We’ve been on our own for such a long time,” Zain whispered. “Doing what we had to in order to survive. Now we’ve found each other, let’s take what we can get.”

  “I don’t want you to get drawn into this and hurt.”

  “Ahhh. You care about me.” Zain grinned. “I’m your Gabe.”

  Roman managed to laugh. “I like you.”

  “How much do you like me?”

  He held his hands about seven inches apart. “This much.”

  Zain smiled. “Come and show me.”

  Sex usually made Roman sleepy but that night, he lay awake while Zain slept half-sprawled over him, the weight of his body of more comfort than he’d have imagined. He was surprised Zain hadn’t pressed him after he’d said he was working undercover. If it had been the other way around, Roman would have bombarded Zain with a stream of questions and demanded answers.

  Working for who?

  For how long?

  Did he trust those he was working for?

  When was it going to end?

  How would it end?

  What were his plans for when it was all done?

  What was he going to do?

  Where would he live?

  Would there be any residual danger?

  Would he have to go into witness protection?

  After Arkady had offered to send him to school in England, Roman thought he’d mapped out his future, believed it would be what his father would have wanted. The education system in Russia was good but there was opportunity in the West. He’d work hard, be successful, make his father proud.

  But his life had run out of control the moment he’d said yes to Arkady. Then taken a very different turn when he’d said yes to a man who worked for British intelligence. More yeses to the wrong people had followed. Despite constantly reassuring himself that he knew exactly what he was doing, Roman had failed to factor in getting involved with someone. Zain had reminded him there was a different world out there, one that Roman had ignored, one he’d thought he could keep at bay, one he’d felt himself immune from.

  He hadn’t been wrong to keep himself emotionally detached. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d been straight. Shutting off his soul had kept him focused, kept him safe and then he’d suffered a heart attack—of a kind. Telling himself he didn’t do relationships hadn’t protected him. His soul, his heart was under threat and had been from the day he’d seen Zain in that café. Always more than lust no matter what he’d told himself. The connection had been made and breaking it had turned out to be…impossible.

  Zain hadn’t meant to catch him in his net but he had. Roman should have fucked him and walked away. He’d tried and failed. Now that the two of them were entwined, and not just physically, Roman had more than himself to think about, to worry about. He wanted Zain to achieve his dream of becoming a doctor. He wanted to protect him from anyone who might hurt him. Even though it would likely be because of him that Zain would get hurt, Roman could neither push him away, nor walk away. He wanted to be with him for what time remained, fly with him, and if it came to it—then fall with him, but love him. Always do that.

  Even thinking the word made Roman’s chest tighten. Is that what this is? The pain in my chest? The ache in my heart? The fullness in my throat. Love?

  Can I take the risk of being in love? He almost laughed at that. Everything he did was a risk from the moment he woke in the morning.

  “Can’t you sleep?” Zain whispered.

  “No.”

  “Need me to sing you a lullaby?”

  “Okay.”

  “Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo.”

  Roman laughed. “That’s not going to work. Every day I dive with great white sharks, no cage to protect me.”

  “Then run and hide.”

  “One small mistake, one tiny drop of blood and they’ll find me.”

  Zain rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Anything I can do?”

  “I’m trying to think of a way out of this.”

  “I’m assuming you mean out of doing the thing that you asked me to pretend I didn’t hear you say that I’ve already forgotten about but if I try really hard might be able to drag out of my sub-conscious because it explains why you’ve been such a moody bastard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe it will help.”

  The damage had been done by telling Zain in the first place. A cardinal rule broken in a moment of stupidity. A moment of weakness when he could least afford to be weak.

  Roman took a deep breath. “It started with Dima. I told you Arkady had tasked me with looking after him at school, doing my best to keep him out of trouble. The little stuff wasn’t too difficult. Providing him with an alibi, me owning up when he was responsible, letting him copy my homework, writing essays for him when he was lazy to do it himself.”

  Roman shrugged. “He never said thank you. Never appeared to be grateful. He seemed…angry when I helped him out. Probably not helped by me sometimes saying no, even though I knew I’d eventually say yes. He didn’t like begging, but I liked him to beg. No wonder the air around us was toxic.

  “He resented me being at the school and for a while tried his best to get me expelled until I pointed out he couldn’t manage without me. He didn’t like being blackmailed, hated that I had the upper hand. I had to walk a thin line, keep track of everything he did and said, be a step ahead at all times. Most of the teachers knew what he was like. A charming bully. A lying bastard. Dima was admired by other pupils and despaired of by the teachers. I don’t know how many were aware of how much I did for him but when Arkady donated millions for a new science block, he made it hard for the school to get rid of us and made life easier for me because I think Dima would have to have really fucked up for them to have expelled him.

  “Dima wanted a car so Arkady bought him one. Anything he wanted, Arkady bought. Designer clothes, expensive watches, skiing holidays in Switzerland, beach holidays in the Caribbean. I never asked for anything. I didn’t go on the holidays. I tried not to accept too much from Arkady because it made Dima dislike me even more, encouraged him to find ways to get me into trouble. But even doing that pissed Dima off because Arkady held me up as a model of everything that was right. Not greedy. Not avaricious.

  “Dima pas
sed his driving test on the second attempt but the car Arkady bought him was a powerful one and Dima had an accident. He drove through a shop window in Canterbury and ran away—straight to me. I was able to make what the CCTV cameras had recorded disappear. Dima claimed the car had been stolen. I arranged an alibi and he got away with it even though the police suspected he was responsible. They’d followed the car on cameras from the school to the outskirts of the town. I couldn’t interfere with all the cameras.”

  “You hacked into police computers?” Zain gaped at him.

  Roman shrugged. “Turned out I had a talent for it. It started off with me trying to find out if anyone was getting nearer to finding out who killed my father and I got drawn into looking at other things. I accessed pupil records to change Dima’s grades and reduce the number of his detentions. I could even get into the head’s private financial information. I didn’t do anything with that. I’d wondered if Arkady was bribing him, but he wasn’t.”

  “No one caught you? Well, obviously they didn’t.” Zain gave him a rueful smile.

  “The first thing I made sure I could do was edit the IT room’s booking register to hide that I’d even been in there. I was good. I still am.”

  “Wow.”

  “But not good enough to evade detection entirely. It was a Saturday in October. My second year at the school and I’d gone shopping in Canterbury for some new shoes. Two guys came up to me on the street, one said my name, and quietly told me I was under arrest. I wasn’t even shocked. I think I must have just thought it was a matter of time.

  “But I wasn’t arrested, I was persuaded to work for the British Secret Service. They thought that as a Russian national, I might be useful to them. So in return for not arresting me or making me leave the country for illegal hacking, I was to illegally hack for them. Arkady was on their list of people they wanted data on, along with the fathers of several Russian boys at the school.”

  Zain pressed himself against him. “What did you do?”

  “I gave them virtually nothing on Arkady. He’d been like a father to me. I couldn’t repay his kindness with betrayal. I found other…bits and pieces on deals being done by the other men. Their sons liked to brag. I was an avid listener. But I didn’t like being a spy.”