"My entire task team, six men in total."
"Six men. Against one woman, and a man. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. Does this not sound ridiculous to you? I mean, you had one job to do, Ludwig, and you failed, miserably. Tell me now, did I make a mistake hiring you?"
The man facing him squared his shoulders, pushed out his chin, and answered in a firm voice.
"I will get the job done, Herr Züber. She won't get away this time."
Gustav stepped three paces forward to close the gap between them, clasped his hands behind his back, and pushed his pointy jaw mere inches away from Ludwig's face.
"Good answer, because if you fail this time I will personally make sure you don't see another sunrise. My time in prison might have aged me but it has also taught me a few new skills that even an old man like me can utilize with ease. It has taken me years to track her down, years, and I will risk everything to finally give her what she deserves. Do not mess it up. Now get out of my face before I regret giving you another chance."
His hired hand did not hesitate and promptly spun on his heels and left.
Jorja was still pacing the floor, her body tense and her emotions running wild. Driven by fear and uncertainty she moved across the floor like a deer trapped between hunters.
"I should have known it was just a matter of time before he'd find me. How he did, I would not know. You couldn't even find me. But that rose, I was right. It was intended to scare me. Artem Sokolov is not a man to mess with. I was convinced he was KGB then and I'm even more convinced of it now."
"Okay, you need to get a hold of yourself, Georgina. There is no evidence he is behind any of this."
"You're joking, right, Ben? How do you not see it? It's right there, on your computer screen, a whole bunch of roses just like the one used to kill Myles. We need to send it to Ewan," she caught her breath as she spoke the words, then hurried to her bag on the couch in search of her phone. She had forgotten to check in on him.
"Who's Ewan? Ah, not to worry, his name was in the police report. He's the detective inspector on the case, the one who got shot by the guy who attacked you in your gallery."
She nodded as her eyes scanned over the messages and five missed call notifications on her phone.
Her fingers hastily glided across her phone's screen before she placed it firmly against her ear.
"Charlie, it's me, Jorja."
"Jorja, where are you? I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Yes, sorry, I got your messages, I was just... why, what happened?"
She bit her lip and sent up a prayer not knowing if God would even listen.
"It's Ewan, he's had to go back in for a second surgery. Something about bone fragments that got into one of his veins. It's not looking too good, Jorja."
He paused, then continued.
"Where are you, anyway? I went looking for you at your house but you didn't answer the door."
"I just needed to get some fresh air, Charlie, sorry. I will be home soon. Is he going to be okay?"
"They don't know. All we can do is pray for him and let God do the rest."
She ended the call, her heart encumbered with a mixture of guilt and anger.
Ben's eyes traced the lines of her face.
"How ignorant of me? Here I was, spilling my guts over my dead wife, declaring my undying love to you, and all the while you have a bloke back home."
"It's not like that, Ben."
"No? Seems like it to me. New name, new life, new love. I get it, it's blatantly obvious."
"No, it's not, Ben! Ewan is just a friend. A very dear friend who is fighting for his life in the hospital as we speak, and it's entirely my fault. Everywhere I go people get hurt. My parents, you, Myles, and now Ewan. It has been a lifetime of guilt over what I did to you. But I didn't have a choice. It's like I attract death or something. It doesn't matter what I do or how far I run, it always catches up with me. That's why I left! I had to, so you wouldn't get hurt."
She snatched her bag up and threw it over her back.
"I've got to go. I'm sorry, it was a mistake coming here."
Ben was quick on his feet to catch her by the arm.
"Don't go, not like this, okay? I'm sorry. I broke my number one rule yet again. And you are wrong by the way; you are an angel but not an angel of death. I'm here for you, Georgina, Jorja, whoever you want to be. I will always be here for you, no matter what."
His ice-blue eyes had turned the warm, inviting turquoise color of an ocean paradise that instantly set her soul at ease. He was the only man she had ever loved, that would never change. Their souls were bound together no matter how much she tried to fight it.
Her mind flooded with the prophetic words the unknown patient in the chapel had imparted. It could not have been truer. She had to face her past; it was the only way.
"I can't stay, Ben," she whispered. "I have to finish this. I have been in hiding for twenty years and I cannot run anymore. If I run, I am nothing but a coward, a fraud."
His strong hands cupped her face.
"I couldn't agree more, but if you think I am going to let you go about it alone you're making a mistake."
"No, Ben, I can't risk it. You almost got killed earlier. Sokolov wants me, not you. I guess he has his score to settle after what I did to him. If I can find a way to pay him back the money, hopefully, he will back off, before someone else gets hurt."
"Georgina, it's not that easy, and you know it. He has money. The man is filthy rich and quite possibly involved with the KGB. You said it yourself. Artem Sokolov wants vengeance, and he won't stop until he gets it."
Jorja couldn't deny it. Everything Ben said made perfect sense. She couldn't do it on her own. Artem was a powerful man and she’d betrayed his trust, destroyed his reputation in the most embarrassing way possible. To meet his wrath on her own was insane, suicidal. She needed Ben now more than ever.
As if Ben knew she was still not convinced, he added,
"I can be of value to you, Georgina, help you, protect you, you know that. We've done it before and we can do it again, even after twenty years. We were a team once and we can be it again. It's like riding a bicycle," he winked, then almost instantly his face turned serious. "Besides, I don't think you have all the facts straight. Something doesn't quite add up."
Chapter Sixteen
Jorja's insides did a summersault before it morphed into a heavy ball of knots in the very pit of her stomach. Fear rippled through her body as the weight of Ben's words warned her to brace herself.
"What are you saying, Ben?" Her voice was burdened with angst.
His hands cupped her shoulders and he pinned his eyes to hers.
"It's going to be okay, Georgina, trust me. Isn't this why you called me? Take a deep breath and come have a look at this."
He was right. She’d known Ben would get to who was behind Myles' murder long before law enforcement could. So, she let him steer her toward a chair next to his at the computer station then watched as he frantically started moving his computer mouse all over the screen, duplicating the same vigor with his fingers on the keyboard.
"What am I looking at?" she asked lacking patience.
"Almost got it, wait for it... there."
Several black and white photos popped up in layers on one of the other monitors. When the sequence ran its course, Ben's voice suddenly filled with excitement, as if he had already figured it out.
The first image was a shot taken by a surveillance camera pointed at her gallery's doors.
"That's my shop, how did you—?”
"Ask no questions, hear no lies, Georgie Porgie," he smiled with affection.
The name was what he used to tease her with and the fond reminder instantly released some of the tension in her shoulders. His computer mouse dragged the picture to one side, revealing another image taken with the same surveillance camera.
"That's the guy who stood watching you the day of Myles Brentwood's unfortunate demise, correct?" He zoomed
in on the picture to display the man up close.
"It is, yes."
"And this guy here," he clicked then pointed to another photo, "is the guy who attacked you and your friend in your gallery the other night."
Again, he zoomed in.
"It's not the same guy," Jorja remarked.
"Exactly! Now, look at these photos over here. These are the people who attacked us at the train station today. Look closely. Can you see the scar over this guy's face over here, above his left eye?"
She nodded as he pointed at one of the shooters then clicked and dragged another photo next to it on the screen.
"The guy who attacked you in your gallery is the same guy who shot at us today. See the scar? It's the same. But the man who stood watching you from outside your gallery doesn't have any scars, also, that guy is nowhere to be found on any of the train station or National Gallery's surveillance footage."
Jorja had leaned forward in her seat, quietly taking in all Ben had to show her.
"But wait, there's more!" he teased. "Look at the man outside your shop; you have a silk shirt, cashmere coat, powerful shoulders. Now compare it to the amateurs from the train station, even the man with the scar. Totally opposite, right? This guy outside your shop, he reeks of money, all the way from his shiny bald head down to his matte snakeskin shoes. While in direct contrast, the bunch from today looked more like a group of cheap bounty hunters. You have denim jackets, ripped jeans, and scruffy, cheap shoes that look like they just stepped off a building site. Trust me, I know a bounty hunter when I see one, and these, my dear, were probably picked up in a backstreet pub somewhere. I can smell them from a mile away."
He played one of the surveillance videos, then added.
"Notice how disjointed their shooting is. There's no plan, no thought for execution. Like they had each received a random text message with your photo and the instruction to hunt you down, no plan, no sequencing, nothing."
He waited for the penny to drop.
"They're not connected."
Jorja's voice was low and without cadence, her face suddenly pale.
"We're dealing with two unrelated enemies here, Georgina, and I think we both know exactly who they are."
She slumped back in the chair, staring at the images on display in front of her. In that moment, her worst fears had suddenly come true. Fear had gripped her by her throat and sent uncontrollable tremors to her hands. Barely able to breathe she stared at the screen. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
"I am as good as dead, Ben."
"Stop! Don't even think that," he said in a stern voice, jerking her from her woeful state.
She jumped to her feet and started pacing the floor, suddenly flooded with panic.
"How can you be so naive, Ben? It was bad enough knowing that I am up against Artem Sokolov and his entire Russian mob, but facing Gustav Züber simultaneously, I am completely outnumbered. I might as well write my obituary."
"Oh, there's the spirit. Give up without a fight. Boy, you were not kidding, were you? St. Ives has changed you all right. Where's the Georgina I knew, huh? The one who stood her ground and never backed down, for anything or anyone? The one who faced fear head on? Have you gone all soft on me in that salty Cornish air?"
He got up and went to fetch another soda from the fridge.
"I don't know what you're expecting of me, Ben. We aren't careless twenty-somethings anymore. I am almost fifty for crying out loud. Twice now I have been surprised by attackers, I never saw either of them coming and am clearly off my game—twenty years off my game."
Once more, she reached for her bag.
"I've got to go. Like I said, the further you stay away from me, the better. Thanks for your help."
She walked toward the exit.
"So you're going to do it again, are you, Georgina? You're going to walk out on me just like that, excluding me and making decisions for me instead of with me."
"I'm not making any decisions for you, Ben, I'm simply making sure you stay alive."
"Just like you did that day twenty years ago, right? And look how that's turned out."
"I don't know what you want from me, Ben. What would you have me do, huh? I never intended for that deal to go bad, but it did, and now I’m the one who's going to pay the price for it. Gustav Züber was the one who got greedy, not me. I was the one caught in the middle remember? He was careless, got caught, and almost dragged me down with him. If I hadn't blown the whistle on Züber's operation and disappeared, I would have gone down with him. I couldn't tell you what was going on even though I desperately wanted to. I protected you, Ben. Neither of them ever knew about you, and I would like to keep it that way. That's what allowed you to live a normal life for the past twenty years."
She turned to walk away then looked back at Ben. Tears had filled her eyes anew and seeing the sadness in his eyes broke her heart into a million pieces, just like it had all those years ago.
"Goodbye Ben."
"Don't do this, Georgina, please!"
But she had made her decision and ran out of the building as fast as her legs would carry her, knowing that if she looked back, she might not be brave enough to walk away a second time from the only man she’d ever truly loved. So she kept running, zigzagging through the streets until she found the underground entrance to the tube. When she finally got onto the first train heading toward Heathrow Airport, she could no longer control her tears and they flowed freely down her flushed cheeks.
Squeezed into a corner seat in the back of the train, her reflection stared back at her from the tiny window next to her. The woman in the glass didn't look like her at all. Every cell in her body felt weak, drained of life, and without hope. She thought of Ewan fighting for his life in hospital and the words spoken by the unknown patient in the chapel. She thought of Ben, of how things once were and how she would have done anything to have that again.
But then, as easily as her heart had filled with pain and despair, she was suddenly overwhelmed with anger. She had seen Gustav Züber's face flash before her, remembered what he’d done all those years ago and how he was to blame for all of this. The more she pondered on it, the deeper her anger festered.
By the time she found her way back to her car in the roadside hotel's parking lot, her anger had already turned to hatred. When she slipped in behind the wheel of her car, the woman who stared back at her in the mirror was no longer saddened or defeated. Instead, her eyes were darker, determined, and unaffected by any emotion.
She swiped away the smudged, black make-up that had settled beneath her eyes with the back of her hand, then smoothed her hair back in place. Her eyes fixed on the satchel that lay on the passenger seat next to her.
She had everything she needed right there with her. It was time she took matters into her own hands.
Chapter Seventeen
Night had fallen by the time Jorja reached the once familiar address in South London. Though she had not been there in a very long time, not much had changed and she found the block of flats with ease. The small residential suburb was known to be one of the most dangerous boroughs in London and not safe for any woman to be in at night, much less alone. As she pulled up into a well-lit street nearby, she took out her gun and placed it in her pants' waistband underneath her tee shirt, then tucked her satchel out of sight underneath the driver's seat. When she got out of her car, she paused and looked out onto a courtyard surrounded by several three-story apartment blocks. The lights on the four edges of the courtyard were almost entirely broken and dim lights flickered on and off, casting long shadows from the buildings across the yard. At first glance, the neighborhood seemed quiet with not a soul in sight. But as she remembered all too well, her arrival would soon lure the residents out from their shadowy lairs like cockroaches to food. It took all of a minute for the first gang of rough youths to show themselves and she watched with caution as more soon emerged. From the dark shadows behind the isolated bleachers, a pit bull held firm
ly in place by a chain next to his master's leg, barked ferociously, ready to charge. She walked toward it, instantly recognizing the man she’d come there to see. He looked older, of course, but he wasn't the type to easily blend into any crowd. The dreadlocks that dropped down to just below his shoulders were now streaked with gray and even in the dark, she could see he still had more gold teeth than white ones. It was the feature that had awarded him the title of the most feared man in the neighborhood, and his name.
As on-trend with his fashion as always, the Jamaican man released a little bit of the chain, allowing his dog to charge several yards toward her before it got yanked back by the collar around his neck.
Surrounded by the bright orange glow of cigarettes in the dark, she kept walking slowly but steadily toward him, then stopped under the flickering illumination of a broken floodlight in the center of the courtyard.
The sharp sound of switchblades formed a choir all around her, accompanied by the incessant barking of the fierce dog mere feet from her. She looked straight at its owner, then announced herself.
"Andre, it's me, Georgina."
She heard the trigger of a gun being pulled back from somewhere to her right but remained firm in her stance.
Once again, the pit bull was allowed another few inches toward her. She knelt down and leaned toward the dog.
"Hey, there, old boy."
With exposed canines, the dog paused for just a second before his growling instantly turned to a friendly whimper while his tailbone dropped and sent his tail excitedly wagging. She leaned in closer, holding the back of her hand out for the dog to smell and lick.
"There's a boy. You like that. Don't you? Yes, you're not as fierce as you look now are you?" She smiled as the dog took pleasure in the tickling under his chin.
The chain released all the way and the dog leaped on top of her, nearly pushing her to the ground.
A deep gravelly voice came from the other end of the chain.
"It really is you, ain't it? Must be, because there ain't no one I've ever known that could hypnotize a pit bull like you. Your mojo has messed up every dog I've ever had."
Vengeance is Mine: A Jorja Rose Christian Suspense Thriller (Valley of Death Book 1) Page 8
