by L J K Cross
Amanda viewed his pathetic, limp carcass and felt satisfied, vindicated that she was superior in every way – of that there was no doubt. Now that she had had her fill of enjoyment, now that she had derived her amusement at his expense, she didn’t want to see that snivelling excuse of a human anymore. Amanda wrapped herself up in her dressing gown and went to sit at her laptop to answer emails. Any outside observer would not have had the slightest inkling as to what had just transgressed in that room. If they had remained watching they would have seen a sheepish looking man skulk silently out of the room about five minutes later and they would have remarked how strange it was that neither person acknowledged the other to bid adieu.
****
The cold steel pressed hard against his neck. Any sudden movement could have grave consequences but Alexander was perfectly calm and relaxed. He closed his eyes and remained perfectly still, relishing the delicate dexterity of an otherwise dangerous instrument in Koroviev’s safe, steadfast hands. Not only did it give the cleanest and closest of shaves but Alexander loved how ruthlessly efficient it was: a starkly realistic metaphor of his life. In the wrong hands events could go so disastrously wrong but when handled with skill and applied with precision, the result was perfection. Alexander loved to live life balanced precariously on a knife-edge. It reminded him of its dangers. It made him feel alive.
Even with his eyes closed, Alexander could feel Koroviev’s reassuring presence over his right shoulder. He was constant, loyal, committed, the ultimate right hand man, resolved to execute Alexander’s every wish, often quite literally, although at these times a blade was not his weapon of choice. His conduct as a KGB officer had been exemplary and outstanding, a living personification of its motto, “the sword and the shield.” Although circumstances had changed and the world had moved on, Koroviev still lived by the same motto and still worked for the same Master. Nowadays, to all intents and purposes Koroviev was in charge of Alexander’s security agency, a justifiable necessity for a businessman with Alexander’s fortune. The agency though differed very little from any of the KGB department’s Alexander had operated in the past. It existed purely for the protection of his, and fellow ex KGB officers’, special interests – interests that needed to be dealt with in house, often by dubious and clandestine methods.
As Alexander had ruthlessly risen through the KGB to the rank of Colonel, he had ensured that Koroviev had remained subordinate and in his service. Alexander’s sweeping accumulation of power and wealth had relied heavily on Koroviev’s infamous specialist skills. Alexander had in turn used his connections and influence to protect Koroviev from reprisals for his unorthodox methods of coercion. It was the perfect partnership. Alexander was able to amass his fortune. Koroviev had an outlet for his inherent need to maim, murder, damage and destroy. Neither of them knew any limits in the lengths to which they would go to achieve their pursuits. In the years it had taken to secure Alexander’s oil company as one of the largest in Russia and a major supplier to Europe, Koroviev had been at his most murderous and mercenary. Kidnappings and torture had been commonplace. Contract killings had been an every day occurrence. Events had been cruelly orchestrated to guarantee fortuitous outcomes. Koroviev’s mastermind of Russian apartment block bombings in Buynaksk, Moscow and Volgodonsk, which precipitated the Second Chechen war, was fortuitous for no one but Alexander and his ex KGB cronies.
From his days as a young KGB recruit, armed only with an honours law degree from St Petersburg State University, Alexander had understood the basic axis upon which the world turned. Money ruled. Whether he was in his cramped Colonel’s office in the Lubyanka, or the grey corridors of the Duma or in the London office’s for his oil company, which overlooked Canary Wharf, Alexander saw that money ruled absolute. Everyone and everything had a price even if it meant having to fund the means to ensure they could be bought. Money had brought him omnipotent power. It had brought him a lifestyle of obscene opulence and now it was going to bring him his ultimate prize.
Koroviev felt the sharp blade glide over the offered neck with precarious precision. It would have been so easy to offer this sacrificial lamb to the slaughter. With just one firm swipe of the blade slicing deep into the skin Koroviev could easily have put an end to all of Alexander’s suffering and all that painful misery that would inevitably follow. It would be the merciful thing to do. But they were the perfect partnership. They had always existed, working hand in glove, side by side, to achieve their opposingly parallel purposes.
CHAPTER 13
“Miss Hearst.” Amanda spun round in the direction of the thickly accented voice to find a chauffeur stood, holding open the door to a black limousine, which was presumably for her. Still Amanda instinctively looked behind her to see if the chauffeur could possibly be addressing a different “Miss Hirrrrst”; part of her almost wished he was. She already had serious misgivings about this evening and just one glance at the chauffeur confirmed every doubt that was swirling round in her head. Even the ominous way he pronounced her name filled Amanda with unease. Amanda paused, unsure whether to proceed.
Considering the menacing figure was presumably intended as a welcoming gesture, Amanda’s trepidation only increased. From the bespoke, tailored suit to the disciplined, militaristic stance, to the ever so slightly tell tale bulge of a concealed weapon under his left arm, this chauffeur stood out in conspicuous contradiction to the other chauffeurs who were idly slouching about, hands jammed into their crumpled ill fitting suits. Yet it was the dangerously red scar that zig zagged down the chauffeur’s right cheek that caused alarm bells to start ringing in Amanda’s ears.
“I could swear I’ve seen him before but where?” Amanda pondered to herself.
The chauffeur interrupted, preventing Amanda from trawling her memory further.
“Miss Hearst, please. This way,” he beckoned with a stiff sweep of his arm towards the car door. Despite every fibre in her body telling Amanda to flee, and flee fast from the choking dread that loomed in front of her, she answered his call and remained mute to her inward protestations. Each step was a struggle to conceal her fear and control the nervous shaking that had taken hold of her legs. Each step was observed, or was it ordered, by a pair of hooded, deadened eyes that showed no signs of life or movement but appeared to follow you everywhere.
As Amanda approached she again found herself wondering just where she had seen that cold, stabbing stare before. How exactly was it possible to forget this six foot five inches, 280lbs slab of intimidation?
“You must forgived my manners,” feigned the chauffeur without the slightest hint of sincerity. Amanda failed to find his broken attempts at English endearing. If anything it made her all the more suspicious and unsettled.
“Allow me introduce myself. You do not know me.” It was almost as if he was ordering her to forget, as if he was attempting to whitewash her memory.
“I go by name of Koroviev. I take you to Master. He is expecting you.”
Amanda stepped into the dark unknown of the limousine, her heart sinking faster than the Las Vegas sun that was fading on the horizon. As she became immersed in its darkness she found no illumination to the questions that were racing through her mind.
“Master? Who could he possibly be referring to?” she demanded in vain futility.
“And just how did he, Koroviev, seem to have known what she was thinking?” The limousine door slammed shut, cutting her off mid question and cutting off all means of escape.
Amanda almost felt to be flying, the limousine pulled so effortlessly away from the kerb. Her mind though was far from at ease. She barely took in the sumptuous spaciousness of the limousine’s interior. She failed to relax and relinquish herself to the plush softness of its leather seats as her mind churned, berating herself for having been so foolish. She knew nothing about where she was being taken or to whom she was being taken for that matter. And if that wasn’t crazy enough she was in a car being driven by the most sinister looking savage, who had probably be
en rejected by the Russian Mafia for being too bestial and bloodthirsty!
Despite the lunacy of her situation, Amanda couldn’t decide if her galloping heart rate and clammy palms were due to a foreboding fearfulness or an anxious excitement. She just couldn’t shake the fogginess from her thoughts and think straight. Turning onto the Strip, the clouds descended and darkened, obscuring the cheer of the neon. Amanda desperately tried to dispel the doom and take in the vitality of the Strip, fearing it could possibly be her last memory. Through the muddled murkiness, Amanda spotted the fountains of the Bellagio, jetting their watery spectacle high into the Las Vegan night sky. The limousine turned as if to drive through them and as if on cue the fountains died, a red ominous hue blazing through the limousine. An alarming image struck Amanda. It felt as if they were crossing the Styx into Hades. The panic inducing premonition prevented her from contemplating the Dantesque inferno that awaited her.
In her moment of panic Amanda needed reassurance but as she grasped at her naked wrist for the bracelet Steve had lovingly given her she realised she had forsaken it all and left it behind her. Amanda knew that she should have been troubled at how easily she had cast off such a treasured object. She knew she should be anxious about Steve’s reaction to the wholly inadequate note she had left him. Yet none of that mattered to Amanda right now – her thoughts were solely consumed by intrigue and fascination. The book had been such a perfect gift. It was as if her mind had been read. It called to her and beckoned her. It was the perfect lure. Amanda was not even perturbed when the limousine diverted away from the Bellagio’ main entrance, choosing instead a discreet, concealed side entrance. Now no one would see her enter. No one would even know she was there.
Stepping from the limousine into the covered entrance, Amanda felt like she had already deserted reality and stepped into a shadowy, shrouded other world, untouched by the illumination of sunlight. Amanda’s eyes needed no time to adjust to the dimly lit corridor in which she found herself. They were already more than familiar with the tenebrous, seemingly subterranean surroundings and yet as she walked along the corridor to God knows where it felt as though her eyes were playing tricks on her. With every step the walls seemed to close in. Amanda blinked long and hard but to little effect. Were they really contracting around her or was she just all too aware of the oppressive presence of Koroviev bearing down on her?
As they approached, the elevator doors up ahead automatically slid open as if commanded by Koroviev’s fierce, unblinking stare. They entered and still Koroviev stood uncomfortably, almost unnecessarily, close. The elevator started to ascend or was it descend? Amanda couldn’t be sure. She half expected the temperature to soar and the elevator to combust as if it had been plunged into the depths of hell. Instead a blood-chilling shiver swept over her. Amanda felt the elevator slow and then stop. She inhaled deeply and braced herself. She wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised if Cerberus had sprung on her when the doors opened. Instead of the three headed hound, when the door flew open, Amanda came face to face with just two snarling, decidedly Doberman like heads. They stood alert, their pointed stares fixed, their faces grimaced, contorted and scowling. Amanda might have actually found Cerberus more welcoming than these two.
Amanda felt a swift and unnecessarily hard shove to her back. It was obviously Koroviev’s idea of a hospitable gesture. Amanda stumbled past the two guards and heard them greet her with a low, rumbling growl. Amanda hurriedly walked past the guards, wishing to get as far away from them as possible in case they suddenly decided to pounce. Yet if she had felt intimidated by the thought of their bite it was nothing compared to the overwhelming awe that left her open mouthed and wide eyed as she began to take in her new surroundings. Amanda had never before seen such a sumptuous expanse of decadence. How could such opulence and grandeur be of this world? How could someone accumulate such richness in just one lifetime? Surely the inhabitant of such a palatial residence must have all the worldly wealth and treasure at his disposal. Amanda had never felt so unsure, so small and so out of her depth. Even the dark presence of Koroviev would have been cool comfort but as Amanda turned around to find him, he, along with his two carnivorous companions, had disappeared as if into mid air. Amanda was not the least bit surprised. The air was heavy and dreamy. It all felt so ethereal and decidedly phantasmic.
Where the devil was she? The room seemed to be swimming before her eyes as she viewed through the panoramic patio windows, the moon skipping playfully along the surface of the pool on the terrace outside. In retaliation the pool splashed back mischievously, soaking the apartment in its ripples. The only other lighting in the room was a wall long, roaring fire and a smattering of candles. The fiery and watery elements swirled round the room only to collide in an alchemical concoction and cast the room under a dreamy spell. Nothing seemed real. All appeared to be an illusion of black marbled walls and gigantic gold-framed mirrors that reflected on into infinity. Amanda tried not to stare too hard in case she fell into the interminable whirlpool of reflections. Any efforts at resistance were futile. Her concentration was dulled by a dull throbbing pain in her temple. A blinding stabbing in her eyes forced them to snap shut. The once soothing classical music that had floated through the room suddenly assaulted the ears. Sweat started to stream from her forehead despite the sharp, bitter chill that had just blasted in, seemingly from the Antarctic. What the hell was going on, screamed Amanda inwardly, through the gripping sense of dread and foreboding that was overpowering and paralysing her. Who the devil was she dealing with?
A polite clearing of the throat was heard from behind, startling her.
“Amanda.” It wasn’t a question just a statement of the obvious; an announcement of his arrival as if in reply to Amanda’s speculation as to who he was. Amanda whirled round, eager to meet her enigmatic host but he seemed just as eager to remain elusive, to rest in his natural preserve, shrouded in shadow, a mere silhouette and a pair of blazing eyes. The eyes seemed able to pierce through even the blackest of dark and uncover all matter of foul intrigue that wallowed there. They floated slowly towards her or were they drawing her in, pulling Amanda into his world? She went willingly. She was powerless to her curiosity and intrigue. She couldn’t have resisted even if she had wanted to.
Amanda had spent the past day or so plagued by intrigue, restlessly distracted by the thought of her mysterious admirer but now that they were face to face she felt all her questions had been answered, all her doubts had been absolved. Yet, up close, in such intimate proximity, the pure potency of his aura meant she was no nearer to elucidation. All clarity of thought was dulled by the sheer power of his presence. It compelled reckless abandon. It beguiled and seduced. The next day, when Amanda was alone to reflect and was no longer drawn, distracted by his mesmerising stare, she tried to recall what exactly it had been about him that had been so magnetic. Could it have been his hypnotic eyes? Or could it possibly have been his bewitching half smile? Or even his smooth, slick and devilishly debonair style? But her mind kept going blank. The more she thought about it, the less she could recall. She was sure his eyes had been an insipid, watery green but at the same time she remembered their startling violet brilliance flashing before her eyes. Looking back on the evening her memory blurred into a swirling, heady haze: a glaring hypothetical question mark hanging over the realms of reality and the phantasmal.
And still the eyes continued to stare, soaking every inch of her up, swelling and swirling as they became seeped in her image. Amanda could have sworn that those eyes were reddening as if drowning under pools of surging blood or maybe it was just the reflection of her red dress, which they seemed to be so fixated on.
“I am so glad you decided to wear that red dress. It is my favourite,” they exclaimed, still without blinking.
“Oh!” was all Amanda could think to say. It just so happened to be her favourite dress as well.
“You look sensational.” Each syllable slid out slowly as the eyes slid over her muscles. “D
ivine. A perfect vision.” And still the eyes did not flicker.
Amanda could feel herself blushing several shades darker than her dress, which only made her blush even more. She was used to being stared at but never so intently, never so unremittingly. Amanda thought she would find it unnerving but instead she inwardly revelled in it and still they continued to stare.
“I see that you have brought the gift that I bought you,” remarked the mysterious host. The eyes slightly dimmed at that sudden change of subject. Amanda too was taken by surprise, nearly dropping the book she had been gripping tightly in her hands. The book, she suddenly recalled, jolting her out of her reverie. So tenable. The weight of it in her hands so indisputable. The texture of its leather binding against her sweaty palm irrefutable. Then surely to God it proved that the rest of her surroundings were actual? That this was not just some bizarre dream and yet still, Amanda could not be completely sure.
“This must all seem very strange and mysterious to you,” he spoke soothingly through a tightly split smile, as if acknowledging Amanda’s angst and inner turmoil. Shocked at having her silent uncertainties spoken, she instinctively turned away for fear that he would be able to see the rest of her thoughts.
“No. No not at all,” Amanda lied in a hopeless attempt to hide her nerves. “I was just admiring your spectacular apartment. In fact I was so amazed that I totally forgot to thank you for the gift you sent me. It really is too much. You really shouldn’t have. I have...” She garbled at break neck speed, totally betraying all efforts to appear calm and collected.
