by Seb Kirby
Eight million people. A good place to hide.
I know now I should have paid more attention to the black SUV that had been behind us since we’d set out. Thinking back, it wasn’t difficult to see that it was following at just the optimum distance to maintain contact but not be seen. I was more concerned with Julia and with the safety of our son to notice if it was a tail and too concerned with all the questions about the nature of the threat against us.
Chapter 10
No one would choose to come to Texas in midsummer but this was the place selected by the one who would tell him where the targets had fled. Wolfgang Heller cursed this lack of sense.
At 103 degrees downtown Austin was a desolate place. Perhaps it was the heat that led Heller to imagine he could still smell the stale stench of slavery but he chose not to dwell on this. He could be anonymous here, check into the Gambit Hotel just off 6th Street and spend the night in the blues bars clustered in the half-dozen run down blocks in what passed for night-life in this town.
He knew he would not find the family in this downtown area. They would be accommodated in some better place, somewhere clean and light with fresher air, some place where those of wealth lived in ignorance of what happened here. He would have to find the targets in that safer world but this was for the coming days and tonight he was going to enjoy himself.
He found her in the Crazy Diamond looking for all the world like one of the strippers on a night off. But she told him she worked in the cafe just down the hill from the Capitol building and that she’d stayed in town because she wanted some action.
They talked, shouted in fact, against the high volume of the jump band. She made no comment about his German accent and asked no questions about why he was here in Austin. Within an hour she was back in his hotel room taking off her clothes for him.
Heller hated to see the tattoos as she undressed. He did not think a woman should mutilate her body like that. It made him want to hurt her and as they made love he tried his hardest to do just that, to punish her for her vanity. But the more he tried to hurt her, the more pleasure she took from him. He didn’t want to kill her. She didn’t deserve it. He wanted more than that from her. He wanted to drain her sensuality to enhance his power, to recharge the tantric energy that gave him control over the world. She obeyed without complaint, though he was sure she knew she had no choice. After two hours on the bed together, he came to a sudden stop and asked her to dress and leave.
She knew enough to not complain and soon he was alone on the bed, listening to the loud, low rumbling of the hundred or so air conditioning units in place on the back wall of the hotel, a guarantee that no one would sleep this night.
He lay there thinking of how, the next day, he would make the hit. Make it swift and sweet.
Chapter 11
Alessa Lando had found happiness where she’d least expected to find it.
The dark days with Alfieri were over. Now, she’d begun a new life.
Dmitri Kolokov was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. He was powerful and ruthless. His companies controlled the minerals trade not just in much of Russia but also throughout half of Africa. He’d survived the Soviet system and come out of it as an oligarch, one of the fifty richest men in the world. Yes, he’d known trauma in this life yet he was calm and collected and knew nothing of the torment of a man like Alfieri.
She couldn’t believe love had returned so late in her life. But love is what it was, passionate and unstinted. She and Dmitri were like first time youngsters. Why, when he could have any woman he wanted did he want her to be so much a part of his life? Perhaps he needed the attentions of a powerful woman like herself. Perhaps it was a miracle best left to be what it was, for itself, without further need for thought.
She liked his courtesy and kindness when he was with her. But most of all she liked his power. It was the love of power that bound them together. It energized them both. It was the great aphrodisiac.
Yet now this security she’d found was threatened by something from her past that was long supposed to be forgotten. They were out there. People determined to find her and kill her.
She had responded. With Matteo’s help, she’d taken the initiative. She was determined to run them down before they could find her. That train of events was now underway. With the Kolokov power to shield her, she would prevail.
But there was a nagging doubt that refused to go away no matter how much she tried to tell herself that concern over this small matter wasn’t needed. She couldn’t be sure the Blakes were not involved in these latest threats. She couldn’t forgive herself for how she’d underestimated them in the events in Florence that brought her family so low. And, unable to shake off those doubts, she’d taken the required steps.
It was surprising how long it had taken her dear Matteo to exert his authority in Sollicciano. Now he’d reached the top there, life would be better for him. She was pleased she’d been able to call on his help in the matter of the Blakes, as with much else that was a threat to her.
Alessa looked over at Dmitri as he lay sleeping in the bed beside her. Yes, it would all be right.
She’d changed her name long before she met Dmitri and changed it again when she’d become the third Mrs. Kolokov – not that any of the Russians ever called her that.
In his line of business, he required twenty-four-hour security protection. Three men guarded the house around the clock.
No one knew she was here. Even if her location was discovered, she was protected.
She would be safe with Dmitri here in London.
Yet the report she’d received from Mexico telling her that the hit on the Ravitz family in San Diego had been unsuccessful was worrying. All the more reason to make sure there were no loose ends.
Chapter 12
The Allegro Hotel in a run-down part of Bloomsbury looked like the no-questions-asked place we needed, but getting them to accept us as we were wasn’t going to be easy.
“You have no ID?” The receptionist, a young Pole, spoke good English. She had a practiced efficiency that told you all you needed to know about why she had a job while half a million locals were without work.
The excuse I used had been rehearsed a hundred times on the drive into London. “I made the mistake of placing all my cards and other ID in a new leather wallet. I was so pleased the way it organized everything. And then it was stolen. I’m sure it was someone who brushed past me at the train station but by the time I realized it was gone, it was too late.”
She wasn’t convinced. “And your wife? She has no ID, either?”
“She forgot her purse. Left it at home when we set out.”
“So, you have nothing to identify yourselves. How do you propose to pay the bill?”
“I have cash.”
This made her more suspicious. “I have to refer it to the manager.”
There was the sound of their talking for a long time behind a screen as the receptionist made her concerns known. The manager appeared at the reception desk and looked us over. “You have a vehicle?”
I lied. “We arrived by train.” I didn’t want to give him the registration number. We could have been easily traced from that. I’d left the Land Rover nearby and we’d walked in. It was no use to us. The vehicle itself could be traced. We’d arrived with just one of the suitcases, more to show we had the kind of possessions that normal visitors would. My plan was that if we could get a room at the hotel I could bring the rest of the luggage in and then leave the vehicle somewhere it would be stolen.
The manager eyed the suitcase and then both of us. “You know this is something I shouldn’t be doing.” His gaze dwelt on Julia’s bump. “But, bearing in mind your wife’s condition and the lateness of the hour, I’ll allow it. But, I expect you to provide identification details within forty-eight hours. Understood?”
I agreed and thanked him. We signed in as John and Elizabeth Meredith.
Room 316 was at the rear of the hotel. It lacked space but was othe
rwise acceptable.
I lay beside Julia on the bed. “We’ve made it.”
She managed a smile. “I wish it felt better than it does.”
I showed her both our phones with the batteries removed. The iPad had been closed down long before we reached London. “No one knows we’re here. For a while at least. We should find a way to contact Miles.”
Julia frowned.
I knew there was no point in pretending otherwise. The relationship between Julia and my brother, Miles, was damaged almost beyond repair. Would she ever be able to forgive him for placing her in the hands of the Landos when he suggested she should contact them to access their art collection in her search for a masterpiece?
For his part, Miles couldn’t forgive himself for ever having thought this was a proper thing to have done, knowing, as he did, that the corruption in the Lando family was certain to place her in danger. It was a misjudgment he would have to live with for the rest of his life. The suggestion that he was so driven to break the story of the Lando’s illegal waste dumping activity, that he became oblivious to the danger he’d placed her in, was what kept him awake at night. What Julia was subjected to at the hands of Alfieri Lando was something he hadn’t come to terms with.
Julia, in her turn, wanted nothing to do with Miles. It was her way of closing her mind to what had happened.
Her voice was weak. “Do we have to see him?”
“He’s in London. And we need help.”
I bought an access card from reception and used the hotel guest computer. I requested a new email account in a false name. Confirmation came back by return. I used the new account to send a message to Miles.
Need your help, bro. Pls reply to this address.
He would know what it meant.
Day 2
Tuesday August 20th
Chapter 13
Julia wished she could just stay still for the next three weeks. She trusted Jim’s judgment and she could see why they needed to be running like this. Yet it didn’t feel right.
When she felt her baby kick, as he was kicking now, her world had only this one center, this one purpose – to bring this new life into the world.
She knew the time would come, in the hours and days before the birth, when she would have energy without limit. Then she would be ready for the great day to come. But right now she wanted safety and security and the absence of worry, for the benefit of herself and their son. And all the energy had drained from her body.
It wasn’t like her to be passive like this. She’d not been afraid to live her own life and fight with the best of them to be a success. That was where Jim was such a good partner in her life. He’d never tried to stand in the way of her wish to achieve in her own right. Before Florence, before the Landos, her ambition was to make her name as the most famous of art restorers. That ambition remained, though she was less sure than ever how this might now be achieved.
She was alarmed that James was turning to his brother Miles for help. She’d tried everything to forgive Miles for bringing the Landos into her life but she still couldn’t find a place for him in her heart. It wasn’t just what had happened to her and the way she’d been delivered into the hands of Alfieri Lando. It was what had happened to her sister, Emelia.
It was the cruelest of fates that she’d found her sister after all those years, only to lose her within a few days. Without Miles, she would never have known of Emelia’s existence. It would have been best if she’d never gone to Florence and tried to help her sister escape. Emelia might be alive today and that was a torture Julia couldn’t find her way past.
She blamed Miles for that. And for giving her those few days of false hope and for making her complicit in Emelia’s death.
Julia tried to imagine being in the same room again with Miles and not wanting to begin hitting him and not stop.
Now James was planning to meet Miles. The prospect of that filled her with dread.
She was sure of one thing – the need to eat.
The restaurant downstairs was basic. It would have to do. James would be hungry too.
Chapter 14
Miles Blake stared at the email message he’d just picked up on his phone. He hoped it was spam but he knew in his heart it couldn’t be brushed aside. His brother was in trouble.
He tapped in the reply.
Where are you?
He knew he’d have to wait for the response. James would be using some form of public Internet access and would only be able to check back once in a while.
His mind turned to thoughts of Julia, the trauma she’d been through at the hands of the Landos and how he was still finding it difficult to absolve himself of the guilt of what he’d done. Now these thoughts turned to the loss of Sergio, his photographer, colleague and friend. His determination to break the Lando story was seen by some to have led to Sergio’s death. Such thoughts about Julia and about Sergio fuelled the contents of the dark dreams that came each night.
Yet he’d not given up on the goal of righting the wrongs. The hope of achieving that rested with finishing what he’d started. He was using his investigative skills to achieve what the Italian justice system could not – to bring down Alessa Lando.
He’d discussed this with James over a year ago but he’d been dismissive.
“If the Italian prosecutor couldn’t succeed in implicating Alessa, what makes you think you could do better?”
Miles had been sure of himself. “Because there’s another way. When the Landos got control of the drugs business in Northern Italy, they seemed to come from nowhere. One day they were also-rans, the next they were kingpins. Rumor was they had a secret supply route direct from South America. You know me and secrets?”
“You don’t believe in them?”
“I’ve never believed in them. Every secret is a point of weakness and an opportunity. If only you’re determined enough to prize it open.”
“And you think you have a lead?”
Miles had smiled. “Those rumors had it that Alessa Lando was involved from the start in the Landos gaining supremacy. That she was the catalyst.”
James had not been convinced. “It was a long time ago. I don’t see where you’re coming from.”
And they’d left it at that.
Miles realized now that when they met he would have to tell his brother just how far he’d got with this line of investigation and tell Julia, if she would listen to him.
The email client pinged. Miles checked the messages.
There was a reply from James.
Meet at Charing Cross in an hour.
Chapter 15
Next morning Wolfgang Heller showered and took breakfast in the hotel lounge. The waitress, a young blonde, disliked him from the start. When she heard him talking in English with a young academic from Oxford who was visiting Texas University, matters got worse.
Heller was saying that no one in this town knew the meaning of politeness and the academic agreed. They’d both had similar experiences since arriving in town. The academic told him how he’d visited the art gallery where they had a display by a local artist who textured and treated old books and assembled them as sculpture. When he’d tried to ask about the artist and if he was well-known outside Austin, the gallery attendant had treated him with scorn, despising his Englishness and his interest in art. The academic was left wondering what the attendant was doing working in the gallery when she despised modern art and felt the right to be unpleasant to those that came to admire it.
Heller confided that he’d had a similar experience. When he’d come to the reception desk to complain about the noise of the air conditioning and to ask for a transfer to another room, he’d been told the hotel was full and he would not be allowed to change. But that wasn’t the real problem. It was the lack of politeness with which the hotel manager had treated the request that bothered him.
The young blonde heard all this but showed no apparent concern as she took the breakfast orders of the two men. She was gone in
the kitchen for longer than might be expected. Looking back on what occurred, Heller should have taken that as a sign. Nor could he be sure that when she returned there wasn’t an amused expression on her face.
Some minutes later a fat chef emerged from the kitchen. He was morbidly obese, the kind of condition that could only have arisen if he ate as much of the food in the kitchen he could before the hotel proprietor noticed the impact on the food bill. The fat chef stood near the doorway of his kitchen and looked at them for a long time. Again, looking back, Heller knew this should have alerted him to what was to come.
They cooked him an omelet. The waitress placed it before him with a smile and a cheery comment. He cut into it and took in the first mouthful. It was hot and well cooked with just enough of the egg at its center left runny, just the way a good omelet should be. He looked down at the plate to load his second mouthful and noticed something white and liquid oozing from the center. He opened it with his fork. There it was - phlegm and spittle, and from more than one of them. As a mark of their true hospitality, these citizens of Austin had spat in his food and were even now from the safety of the kitchen laughing at what they’d done.
He said nothing. He placed his napkin on the table and lined up his knife and fork back on the plate.
The waitress returned. She was trying not to smile. She was mocking what he’d said by showing him just how polite she could be. “You’re not finishing. We’re so sorry you haven’t enjoyed your meal. Is there anything else I can get you?”
Heller did not respond. “I’m not so hungry after all.”
He said farewell to the academic and wished him well for his visit. He then went to his room and induced vomiting by placing his fingers down the back of his throat.
He was beyond anger. It was an unspeakable assault on his whole being. He had no idea what state of health the fat chef and the young blonde waitress enjoyed but he now had to share that with them. The fat chef did not look well. He could be a carrier for any one of a dozen debilitating diseases.
