The Hunt series Boxset 2

by Tim Heath

  20

  The North London Hospital, London

  Anissa had been awake for a couple of hours. Three days had passed since the funeral, Sasha asleep on the chair next to her bed when she stirred adequately for the first time since arriving. She spotted Sasha but didn’t want to say anything. He looked like he needed the sleep.

  She took in her surroundings. She knew immediately why she was there. She didn’t know how long she’d been there, but had known brief moments of consciousness over recent times. Whether these were seconds apart, hours or days, she had no clue. She’d heard Sasha, heard her parents and heard doctors. The fact only Sasha was now present suggested it wasn’t seconds ago that she’d listened to the quiet whispers.

  There were plenty of flowers around the room, and some cards too. At least three bunches of flowers, which sat in glass vases with the water half gone, were looking old and nearly past their best. Anissa had been there for days, that much was clear.

  She didn’t know the hospital, could only see the sky out of the window from where she was. An IV line was attached to her arm, the tubes going up to a drip with three bags in it that stood on a pole next to her bed.

  Her body was sore. She recalled the explosion, the flames, the car. Her family. They were in the car. Panic started rising in her. Her heartbeat rose. After a few seconds, Anissa's increased heart rate set-off another little alarm on the monitor, a doctor coming in a few seconds later, Sasha stirring at the sudden arrival. He looked up and saw Anissa with her eyes open, the doctor checking Anissa.

  Anissa looked over at Sasha, who now stood when he saw Anissa. It looked like tears were in his eyes.

  “You’re awake,” he said, coming over to her and taking the hand that wasn’t connected to the drip.

  “How long?” she started to say, but her throat was dry, and she couldn’t speak. Sasha poured her some water from the jug next to her bed and gently put the cup to her lips.

  “Don’t speak, take some water.” The doctor pressed the controls on the bed, raising her head a little, making it easier for her to drink. The doctor took over, checking her eyes, asking her a few questions and answering some simple things in return, though nothing major was asked. It was as if Anissa was waiting for those questions, maybe waiting for the doctor to go. Waiting for Sasha to be honest with her, though Sasha wasn’t sure if he could. He thought he would be able to, sitting there when she was asleep. He could have told her anything. She couldn’t hear him, or at least, he wasn’t aware that she could. Now she was awake. Now her eyes were aglow with puzzlement, needing answers. Pleading good news to the nightmares she no doubt had now racing through her troubled mind. He knew he didn’t have any hope to offer her, besides the truth. He wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet.

  The doctor had said that Sasha needn’t hold it all back from her when Anissa did wake up. That sounded like good advice then. It made sense. She needed to know the truth, and lying about anything to save her from pain was only going to make it worse. Sasha understood that. Now, however, it didn’t seem so clear-cut. She was awake. She could experience emotions. He wasn’t sure how he would handle that coming from Anissa, not after everything that had happened.

  “I’m so glad you're okay,” he said, still holding her hand in his.

  “Alex?” she asked, her voice still croaky, her strength weak.

  “Still no word.” Sasha couldn’t tell if Anissa was asking in case somebody had managed to free him, or because she’d forgotten that Alex had been taken in the first place. Had she lost all memory?

  She seemed to take the news okay. She wasn’t puzzled.

  “I remember the explosion,” she said, the words cutting off there, the moment thick with emotion. She looked Sasha in the eyes, his dark wet eyes. His expression and his silence told her all she thought she knew. “I know they are dead.”

  Sasha looked away, unable to hold it in. He walked to the window.

  “You remember?” he said, controlling his breathing, trying to keep his body in check.

  “You called me. You warned me, but it was too late, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he said, wanting to go on, but not aware of anything more to say, no words adequate enough to make any of this any more comfortable. If Sasha had heard from Rad even five minutes earlier, they might all have been alive right now.

  “I ran to warn them. I saw it explode.”

  “I know,” Sasha said, that much had been clear about the whole situation. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  She was crying now. Tears could flow, at last, the weeks she'd been there, suffering in silence, now bringing some explanation to what had happened, the distant voices when she had come round suggesting momentous events had taken place. Now she knew for sure. They were dead. Life suddenly had little meaning. She had a huge hole that could never be filled again.

  Sasha passed her a box of tissues. The psychologist came into the room at that moment and pulled up a chair. They’d apparently been aware that Anissa was talking. She’d probably been waiting in the wings, just outside the door. She must have heard Anissa mention the deaths.

  “It’s okay,” the psychologist said. “We are here for you. You are not alone. I’ll help you through all this.” Sasha stood at the window looking out. He had no idea what Anissa was going through right now, but his heart was reaching out towards her. She was all he had left.

  Edge of Moscow

  Though the snow was yet to clear, Rad made a move towards his forest hideout. He didn’t really need the equipment he had stored there. He had his gun already with him, having just got back from London, and he now had access to anything he needed from military supplies.

  But he wasn’t heading to his dacha for weapons.

  As Rad drove the three hours it took to get out to the lockup, he thought about Svetlana’s words to him. He couldn’t work her out but had seen a side to her he felt few people in Russia knew about. Did Filipov know, was that why he’d recruited her? Was she more than the international icon, the face of glamour, a Hollywood heavyweight to add the needed sparkle to his Presidential bid? Clearly, she was still around. He’d won. He could have employed anyone he wanted after the successful election, but Svetlana was still Filipov's woman of choice. Rad wondered if he too had been privy to a side few Russians knew existed in the beautiful movie star.

  Rad thought about his team. He’d wondered about trying to recruit from soldiers he’d worked with in the past, men loyal to him. But that might lead to too many questions. He also felt ashamed of his current role. They were in Syria, fighting in terrible conditions, risking their own lives. Many would be dead. He was flying around the world in private jets, at the President’s pleasure. No, Rad wouldn’t contact them even if they had been available. The time frame––just a few days to get everyone together––also ruled that option out, regardless. Rad would recruit locally, from men currently based in Russia. He would look at their records. From these, he would be able to spot the men worth having. These would be the people to work with him in Siberia. He made a note to contact Svetlana and ask for this information if it wasn’t available to him when he reached the dacha.

  The snow had not been heavy yet that winter, though there were still piles alongside the road––blackened and dirty looking––as it had repeatedly been cleared and pushed to one side. There were fresh tyre tracks along the route to his dacha. It meant his nearest neighbours were home.

  Rad’s heart leapt at that finding. He was ultimately there to bump into Nastya again.

  He left his car a little way from his dacha. The snow into his own parking area was several inches thick, icy and solid. It had not been cleared, naturally. He’d not been there, nor did he usually come in winter. The building was not much more than a shed really, a garage. Heating it would not be easy. He’d not especially thought about that.

  Rad checked his traps and various other systems outside his building. No one had been around looking for him. That thought actually brought
a little sadness, though he had told Nastya he was going. She would have no reason to suspect he would be there. Why would she come all that way in the snow looking for him? It made no sense. He pushed the thought to one side, opening the door and dropping his travel bag. Ice covered the inside of the windows. If anything, it felt colder inside the metal lockup than it was outside, though Rad knew that was just an illusion. Still, it would make sleeping there later a problem unless he got around to heating it up very quickly. He wouldn’t bother with that just yet, however.

  Rad opened up his computer, the keys on the keyboard stiff and slow initially until he worked each one a little. It took a few minutes, but he scanned through some files he had. His own rank gave him access into army records. Sitting there was a list of men. It would take some checking, but he was sure he would be able to find the current location of these soldiers. Anyone in Russia who caught his radar Rad would instruct to join him for the flight to Siberia. That could wait for now.

  Rad picked up his skis. There was enough snow to make skiing preferable. He strapped his hunting rifle over his winter clothing, a hat pulled into place and gloves as a last measure. Everything was now locked up, his car visible but twenty metres from the building. Rad turned the other way, heading towards what was the river in the summertime but would now be iced over and hidden in winter. Only further up, starting outside Nastya’s home, would the lake be visible, and even then, most probably iced over completely. Further around the bay, people might be fishing through the ice.

  In only ten minutes, Rad was at what would be the water’s edge. In the distance, a column of smoke could be seen above the trees at the point where the Russian knew Nastya’s beautiful home was. It was possible that she was not there, of course. Her uncle owned the place, living there with his wife. Rad set out in haste, moving up the stream as the ice was flat, the going a lot easier than through the forest, where the snow was not thick enough to cover all the fallen wood.

  Rad came up from the frozen lake surface and onto what would be the edge of Nastya’s property less than fifteen minutes later. He’d barely broken a sweat. Rad recalled the first time he’d spotted the young neighbour. She’d been bathing, standing in the spot he now stood, about to wash in the lake having come from the banya. She had been naked. He’d been watching from afar, not prying, but he’d spotted her while hunting. His pulse raced again in the cold at that recollection.

  The door to the dacha opened, whoever was inside undoubtedly aware of a densely clothed skier coming up from the lake towards the house. Nastya came running out into the snow. Though she hadn’t been able to recognise it was Rad through what he was wearing––she’d never seen his winter gear––she had known the gun hanging from his shoulders. She was beaming as she raced across the snow in highly unsuitable footwear, but she didn’t seem to care. She flew into his open arms, nearly knocking him over. Pulling off his mask, she kissed him.

  “You came back,” she said, smiling and laughing. She didn’t even have a coat on.

  “Let’s get you inside,” he said, before adding. “You alone?”

  “Yes, they are in Moscow with my grandmother, my uncle’s mother. She’s unwell.”

  Rad took off the skis and followed Nastya back to the house, the warmth and homeliness hitting him right away.

  “I told them all about you, by the way. They can’t wait to meet you.” Nastya was bursting with pride. That meeting would have to wait for a future visit, though it was far from his thoughts at that moment. She looked beautiful. He couldn’t think about anything else.

  Inside, the fire was ablaze already. Nastya placed another two logs onto it, anyway, the whole room warm and inviting, the complete opposite to his own dacha. He started to take off his gear, Nastya coming over to collect his jacket and hang it on the peg, having put some water on the stove next to the fire. She came back and gathered the rest of his snow wear.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Rad said, finally free. He stood in front of Nastya, her eyes glowing, her smile radiant, her face like that of an angel. Rad kissed her passionately on the lips. “I’ve been waiting a long time for that,” he said, once he’d pulled away.

  “So have I,” she said, taking his hand and leading him into another room. “I’ve been waiting for this too,” she said, turning and unbuttoning her blouse, which she then let drop to the floor, revealing a simple but elegant bra underneath, her bust of ample proportion. Rad cupped his hands around her breasts as she came in to kiss him once more. Before long, they were undressing the other in earnest.

  Twenty minutes later the water was boiling ferociously on the fire, steam forcing its way out, water spilling a little and hissing as it made contact with the hot metal underneath. Nastya pulled herself from Rad’s arms, dressing again quickly, deep happiness spreading throughout her entire being. A contentment that she had never known before.

  She made a pot of tea, Rad now rousing himself and getting dressed. He straightened out the bedding. She slept in a sizeable bed, halfway between a single and a double. He walked over to her as she poured the tea into two cups.

  “That was amazing,” he said, kissing her on the neck, sending yet another burst of electricity throughout her entire body. She didn’t say anything, just sitting down and placing Rad’s cup in front of him on the other side of the table.

  “Sorry, I’ve not got any cake to go with it,” she said, placing a tin of biscuits instead between them both. Rad opened the tin and selected one. “I baked them a few days ago. Should still be fresh.”

  Rad crunched into it, a smile confirming his satisfaction. They drank tea in silence for a couple of minutes, smiling at each other, eye contact almost constant between the pair, but all that was needed at that moment.

  They chatted all afternoon. Nastya told Rad all that she had been doing since he’d last been there. She showed him the things she’d been making, the designs she’d been working on. She was a talented seamstress, and her plans for the projects she wanted to work on seemed to Rad like something out of a Milan fashion house.

  “These are incredible,” Rad raved, though Nastya only blushed.

  “They are my untrained scribblings, nothing more,” she said not for the first time. She had little confidence in her own ability, and while Rad was no expert, what she was showing him at that moment seemed to be to his eyes almost perfect. He knew that partly had something to do with the designer, but he still thought they showed genuine skill.

  “No, you have real talent. You should get these to someone.”

  “Who? Who would be interested in my work?”

  “I don’t know.” He thought about it for another second. “Lots of people, I’m sure. They are beautiful.”

  She blushed. “You’re just saying that because you’re sleeping with me.” She went serious, Rad matching her mood in an instant, though wasn’t going to leave her comment at just that.

  “I’m raving about you because I love you,” he said before he thought any more about it. Nastya's expression changed completely, from embarrassment at his fondness of her work to utter amazement at his words about his feelings for her. She burst into tears, not something Rad expected, nor knew what to do with. What did it mean? He got up slowly, and without sensing the need to stay away, went around to embrace her, something she quickly responded to, holding him tightly, tears running down onto his neck and shoulder, Rad watching one tear as it caught on his chest. His own heart was pounding. He loved Nastya, had known it for a while, and the drive there that morning had only highlighted the fact. It was her he was coming to see. She was the reason.

  She kissed him, with a passion that put everything they’d done before well into the shade. It was as if his words to her had unlocked something deep inside. She pressed him into the table, pushing the metal teapot to one side. Driving it off the table, the contents empty, the sound initially echoing as her arms were wrapped around him, her lips not once breaking the connection, as if to pull away would be an impossibility.
She turned them around so that she was perched on the table, the pair kissing in a way Rad had never known with any woman before. She lowered herself back onto the table, legs dangling off the edge, pulling Rad in after her, his face in her face, their eyes locked.

  21

  Rad stayed the night. They’d eaten dinner late, and he’d shared how he hadn’t even started the fire at his. Nastya demanded he stayed with her. She had space, was on her own, and wouldn’t stand to know Rad was freezing himself. They both slept well, and Nastya was the first to rise in the morning, preparing some food for them both. They hadn’t talked about the future, both living in the present, though the past had come up, somewhat, the night before. Nastya had said why she stayed––she’d used the word hid, which Rad immediately picked up on and quizzed her about––in the dacha all the time. There had been a man in Moscow, someone she thought she liked, though someone who turned into a nasty piece of work when Nastya told him she wasn’t going to have sex with him. He threatened to rape her. She was living alone and was sure he would have attempted something before long. He was part of a gang, she had later discovered. Nastya had fled, going to her uncle’s dacha. She’d stayed there ever since.

  With breakfast served, Rad started to think about the present once more––his mind had been going over her past for most of the night. He had work to do. Rad had not yet mentioned that he would have to leave again soon. The previous day had become so perfect, he’d not seen the need to say anything then. The news would almost certainly be met with questions about what he was doing and why. He didn’t know what he should say, what he could say. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he was also scared of telling her the truth. She had no real idea about that side of him, she thought he was just some type of writer. He liked it that way. Who he really was and what he had done might be too much for a girl like Nastya. The moment was special and they were in the middle of nowhere. Their connection linked to the forest around them. Moscow was a million miles from that existence. Everything was: Syria, the wars, the killing, the President. Nothing could touch them in the middle of the forest, or so it seemed. It was just them and nature. Of course, Nastya didn’t live alone. Her uncle and aunt would be back at some point. They were clearly protective of her, and Rad could understand why given what had happened.