by Val McDermid
“It’ll never work,” Lindsay said. “They’re bound to have told the bodyguard to look out for Tam. He’ll recognise him.”
Sasha cocked his head to one side, considering Tam. “Maybe not if we get rid of the beard and chop the hair off and put him in an FC Zenit shirt . . .”
“You really think we can hold him up for long enough to let Tam get clear?” Rory asked.
Andy shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen the guy. But from what you said, he sounds like a weightlifter. They’re no’ built for speed.”
Tam gave a harsh bark of laughter. “And you think I am?”
“It’s amazing what the human body’s capable of when it comes to your bairns,” Andy said. “You’ll do just fine, Tam.”
Tam held out his huge paw to Andy. They shook. “That’s settled, then,” he said.
Lindsay and Rory exchanged a bewildered look. “Outflanked by the old man,” Lindsay said, shaking her head, half-amused and half-terrified at the thought of what her father had just let her in for.
“We should go back to the park, make sure we all know the ground,” Sasha said, swallowing the last of his whisky. “Andy, you must come too, give us an extra pair of eyes.”
As they walked back to Sasha’s car, Lindsay managed to detach her father from the group and hung back with him. “Tam’s really wound up,” she said. “I think you need to get him off the boat. He’s going stir crazy on there. Is there any chance that you and Sasha can take him out and get him pissed tonight? Maybe the two of you could stay at Sasha’s?”
“What about the boat?” Andy asked, casting an apprehensive look back at the Bénéteau.
“I’ll stay on board with Rory. We’ve checked out of the hotel, remember? We can’t go back, it’ll only draw attention to us. And after we snatch Jack, the cops will be looking for two British women behaving suspiciously. We need to keep a low profile.”
“And you two want the place to yourselves, eh?” Andy asked severely.
“It’s a small boat, Dad. We’re all going to be cooped up there for long enough as it is. But I’m not suggesting this for my sake. Tam needs to let off some steam before he blows up.”
Andy stopped and stared hard at his daughter. “That better be the real reason, Lindsay. I’ve seen the way that lassie looks at you.”
“Aye, well, Dad, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Lindsay said, using anger to hide her guilt. “Please yourself.”
She began to walk away, but Andy put a hand on her arm. “I’ll do what you suggest,” he said. “Don’t let yourself down, Lindsay.”
Her father’s words echoed in her head hours later as she made up the double berth in the forepeak cabin for her and Rory to share. Was she letting herself down, or was she finding the road back to herself, a road that had been obscured by the forces of habit and affection? It was a question that had no easy answer. She tucked the sheet in under the thin foam mattress as Rory called, “Dinner is served, madam.”
Lindsay finished off and joined Rory in the cockpit, where she’d arranged a picnic with the food they’d bought from a small grocery store near Sasha’s apartment. There was ham and red caviare, a sweating block of yellow cheese, various flavoured yoghurts, black bread and, improbably, a baguette. They’d supplemented this with bananas, peaches and tomatoes from a nearby kiosk, and a couple of bottles of Georgian red wine recommended by Sasha. “Looks good,” Lindsay said, leaning across to kiss Rory on the mouth.
“I don’t know if I can eat much,” Rory said. “I never realised you could feel the boat moving even when you’re tied up like this.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Lindsay grinned. “Either that or you’ll be seasick.”
“Gee, thanks,” Rory said, cutting off a chunk of bread and smearing it with caviare.
“Just remember it’s always better up on deck,” Lindsay said. “Poor Sophie gets sick as a dog when she’s below. That’s why she never used to come on overnight trips with me.”
“Did you used to sail in California, then?”
“I learned to sail almost as soon as I could walk. When we were in America, I had a half-share in a thirty-six foot Baltic.”
Rory shook her head. “That means nothing to me.”
“It’s a classic yacht. A colleague of Sophie’s found her languishing in a boat yard and he persuaded me to go in with him. It took us the best part of a year to get her seaworthy, but it was worth it. I had some great sails in that boat. I really miss her, especially on a night like this, sitting on the water and just soaking up the peace and quiet.”
“So, are you going to get a boat back in Scotland?” Rory asked, uncorking the wine.
Lindsay shook her head. “I can’t afford it.”
“That’s a shame.”
“I’ll just have to try and hitch a ride crewing for some of the rich bastards who keep their boats up in Invercross. They’re always desperate for an extra pair of hands.”
Rory grinned. “Either that or we’ll have to make lots of money selling stories.”
“Maybe.” Then a sudden thought stabbed her. “Except I might have another mouth to help feed.” She managed to remain in denial about the prospects of parenthood ever since the plane had taken off from Glasgow, but now it was there between them, a monkey on her back that wouldn’t stay caged.
Rory reached across and squeezed Lindsay’s hand. “Hey, maybe you should try the lottery.”
Lindsay burst out laughing. “I think you’ve used up enough luck for both of us there.”
Rory winked. “You mean, you don’t think you’ll get lucky tonight?”
Lindsay made herself a cheese and tomato sandwich. “I intend to take full advantage of tonight. It could be our last chance for a while.”
Rory frowned. “But we’re going to be on the boat for another couple of nights, surely?”
“Yeah, but so will my Dad,” Lindsay pointed out. “Call me a coward, but that is not going to make me feel relaxed and sexy.”
“Duh, silly me. You think he’d tell Sophie?”
Lindsay sighed. “No, I don’t think he would. I just don’t want him to know that there’s anything to tell Sophie. It’s easier all round.”
Rory leaned against Lindsay. “Well, we’d better eat fast, then.”
“I thought yesterday was bad, but this is hell,” Lindsay muttered to Rory as Tam disappeared inside the bar in search of the toilet.
“If it gets any hotter, Tam’s going to spontaneously combust,” Rory agreed. They were sitting at a pavement table at a bar on a side street between the international school and the play area. From the safety of his car, Sasha had watched Jack and his minder arrive at school a couple of hours before. He’d stayed put just in case they left early, but so far, Lindsay’s mobile had remained silent.
The air was heavy with humidity, the sky coppery and oppressive. It was the sort of day when a thin sheen of sweat covered every exposed piece of flesh, making bodies adhesive. The weight of the weather served only to accentuate the discomfort and drag of hanging around.
Waiting alone with Rory would at least have held an element of pleasure. But with Tam added to the mix, it was grim. He couldn’t keep still. When he wasn’t smoking, his fingers danced incessantly on the table top. He made Lindsay check her phone every five minutes, just to make sure she hadn’t missed a vital call. He kept running his hands over his newly naked chin and the half inch of hair that was all that remained of his thick auburn mop, as if he couldn’t quite believe he was still in his own skin.
What was worse was that his nervousness was contagious. Lindsay had started the day feeling fairly calm, but she was growing more and more edgy with every passing minute. “He’s doing my head in,” she complained.
“He can’t help it,” Rory said. “He’s scared. And if there’s one thing a macho Scottish male can’t acknowledge, even to himself, it’s being scared. So he’s hiding it behind impatience. Try and relax, Lindsay.” She leaned across to massage Lind
say’s neck between her fingers and thumb.
“Oh yeah, right. Relax. That’ll work. How am I supposed to relax?”
Rory smirked. “Think of something pleasant. No, actually, skip that. Think of something wildly, extravagantly, sexily fabulous. You shouldn’t have to search far back in your memory . . .”
In spite of herself, Lindsay smiled. Before she could reply, Tam came lumbering back to the table. With his new look and his blue Zenit shirt, nobody from Glasgow would have recognised him. Lindsay herself had had to do a double take when he’d appeared at the boat earlier with her father and Sasha. A bodyguard who’d only seen a photograph would have no chance.
“How long now?” he asked, dropping like a stone into his chair.
Lindsay checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”
“Right. Gonnae get me a vodka?” he asked her.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Lindsay said.
“I need a drink, OK? It didnae do me much harm last night, did it?”
She couldn’t deny that. According to Sasha, they’d been drinking vodka till well past midnight, but none of them had a hangover in spite of Tam having reportedly collapsed in a senseless heap on the floor of Sasha’s living room. She signalled to the waitress and ordered a vodka, counting out the roubles to pay so they wouldn’t have any delay when the time came to move.
When the drink came, Tam swallowed it in one. “Right then,” he said. “I’ll wait here till I see the kids passing the end of the street. You two better head off, get into position.”
They stood up. Now the moment was upon them, Lindsay felt curiously solemn. It had to work this time. There would be no third chance. And if they failed, she’d have to deal with the fact that she had let the genie out of the bottle. She realised that, having come this far, Tam could never return empty-handed to Bernie. Impulsively, she gave him a quick hug and kissed his smooth cheek. “Good luck, big man,” she said.
He nodded, beyond words, adrenaline and alcohol flushing his pale cheeks. Rory gripped his shoulder. “We’ll get it right this time.”
They walked off briskly, barely reaching the corner when Lindsay’s phone rang. Sasha told her the children had left the school gates, heading in the right direction. He was going to drive straight to the far exit to wait for Tam and Jack. Dry-mouthed, Lindsay passed the message on to Rory, who nodded grimly. In silence, they entered the park and ambled across the grass to the shrubbery where Tam had hidden the previous afternoon. It ran almost to the edge of the path where Tam would attempt to escape with Jack, providing the perfect spot for them to ambush the minder.
As they took up position, a low growl of thunder grumbled in the distance and the sky seemed to darken. Lindsay looked heavenward with a look of dawning delight. “I think we’re in for a thunderstorm,” she said, hardly able to believe the evidence of her senses.
“Oh, great, just what we need when we’re about to go sailing,” Rory said.
“Never mind that. If it hits now, we’ve got the perfect diversion.”
Rory got the point and gave a low whoop of delight. “You’re right!” Suddenly she started bouncing up and down, waving her arms and dancing in a little circle.
“What are you doing?” Lindsay said, bemused.
“Rain dance.” Rory grinned. “Can’t hurt, can it?”
Lindsay shook her head, amused in spite of herself. She peered through a jigsaw gap in the bushes and caught sight of the children arriving in the park. Already they were running free. Today, Jack seemed to have joined the game of football, though he was noticeably less frantic that the others in his pursuit of the ball. Another peal of thunder, this one louder than the last, caused a momentary pause in play, but they carried on instantly.
A few minutes later, she caught sight of Tam, strolling casually towards the children. “Oh, smart move,” she said softly as he took a line that would bring him to the edge of play. When the ball drifted towards him, he brought it under control and moved into the game, passing it to one of the children. He waved casually at the teacher, and carried on making his way through the players, gradually working nearer and nearer to Jack. One of the boys kicked the ball to Tam and he dribbled expertly towards his stepson. For a moment, it looked as if he would feint past him. Then at the last minute, Tam stooped low, scooped Jack into his arms and took off. As if on cue, the thunder crashed again, a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky and the heavens opened.
Rain sheeted down, adding to the confusion of noise and blurring the rush of movement. Jack was screeching like a banshee, hammering his fists against Tam’s shoulder as Tam pounded across the field towards the path. Hot on his heels, the bodyguard had sprung into action, roaring something incomprehensible as he went. The cries of playing children had suddenly turned into screams of panic.
Now Tam was running faster than Lindsay would have believed possible, in spite of the struggling child in his arms. Clearly, Tam’s disguise had Jack fooled as much as his minder. He was giving chase, but as her father had rightly surmised, his body was built for strength, not speed, and although he was unencumbered, he wasn’t gaining ground fast enough. “I think they’re going to make it,” she said. “You ready?”
Rory nodded, poised on the balls of her feet. Still peering through the bushes, Lindsay caught sight of the teacher. She was frantically gathering her pupils together, her face blanched as a turnip, her mouth still a round O of shock. Then suddenly Tam was thundering past them, his breathing ragged and painful. “Now!” Lindsay shouted.
Rory stepped into the path, closely followed by Lindsay. The bodyguard was bearing down on them. He tried to swerve at the last minute to avoid them, but Rory kept on walking, driving him towards the grass. He thrust an arm out, pushing her out of the way, but the edge of his foot skidded on the wet grass and sent him sprawling.
He scrambled to his feet, spitting what had to be curses at Rory, and hurtled on after Tam. But the distance was too great. There was no chance he could catch them now, Lindsay thought with satisfaction. “Act nonchalant, look a bit bemused, as if it’s all nothing to do with us,” she said, steadying Rory and steering her down the path in the opposite direction, taking advantage of the confusion to depart the way they’d come without a backward glance.
As soon as they had cleared the park, they picked up speed, cutting briskly down a side street to the Obvodnogo Canal. Within five minutes, the ugly concrete box of the Moskva Hotel reared up before them. There was no sign of pursuit, and they began to breathe easier as they crossed the busy intersection in front of the hotel and walked into the Metro station. Jubilation welled up inside Lindsay, but she took care to show none of it.
In silence, they rode the Metro to the end of the line then set off towards the Navy Yacht Club from a different direction. Now they were finally able to release some of their tension, laughing in pure delight as they relived the rescue, indifferent to the rain streaming down their faces. They had only walked a couple of hundred yards when Sasha’s car drew up alongside. Holding her breath, Lindsay gave him a questioning look.
Sasha grinned and gave her the thumbs-up sign. “All aboard. They wait for you. All you have to do now is get the boy out of the country.”
According to Sasha, Tam had barely made it to the car ahead of the bodyguard. “I had engine running and back door open,” he said. “Tam threw the boy in and dived on top of him. Poor Jack, he was squealing like a pig, he wouldn’t believe it was Tam at first. Anyway, I shot off before Tam even got the door closed. Just as well I did, because the bodyguard was close enough to hit the boot with his fist as I pulled away.”
“Did he get your number?” Lindsay had asked, worried for her father’s generous friend.
Sasha had tapped his nose with his index finger. “No matter if he did. I got plates from a scrap yard, six o’clock yesterday morning.”
They’d never have done it without Sasha, Lindsay realised. She and Rory had been so gung-ho, so convinced they could cut a swathe through whate
ver Russia threw at them. But they’d been hopelessly wrong. She had to wonder if back in Glasgow, even at some deep subliminal level, the reason she’d been so eager to get involved in Bernie and Jack’s problem had been about impressing Rory. Or even about getting Rory on her own, in a foreign environment, in a strange light where recklessness might look like romance.
At the Navy Yacht Club, they ran through the sheeting rain to the boat. Andy, Tam and Jack were below in the steamy cabin, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. Jack barely looked up as they arrived. He was snuggled into Tam’s side, talking nineteen to the dozen about his experiences. The tracks of his dried tears snaked down his cheeks, a vivid reminder of the terror he must have felt when Tam snatched him. “And when Papa went away, I was left with Zia Maria and she made me go to school, and it was horrible, and she wouldn’t let me phone Mum, even though Papa promised I could,” the boy prattled on. “I hated it. I wanted to come home, but Zia Maria said I had to stay until Papa came back. It was supposed to be a holiday,” he added, self-righteous disgust in his voice.
Rory sat down on the bench seat and let out a huge sigh. “We made it.”
“So far,” Andy said cautiously. “Lindsay?” He gestured towards the cockpit with his head. “A word.”
“You need me,” Lindsay protested. “Nobody else can sail the boat with you. And in weather like this, you need another pair of hands.”
Andy shook his head stubbornly. “They’re going to be looking for two British women. You said that yourself. While I was sitting here waiting for you, I realised it was madness to try and take you both out on the boat.”
“So I’ve got to stay behind? Are you sure you’re not just trying to keep me and Rory apart?” Lindsay’s blood was up now, the adrenaline rush of the snatch reasserting itself as anger.
