Out of the Night

by Dan Latus

  ‘Not really. Those days are over for us. I trained at the Hermitage in St Petersburg, Misha in Moscow.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘It is simple. We need money to start our life together, Misha and me.’ She shrugged. ‘Borovsky offered us it – much money. So we came.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To paint.’ She shrugged again, as if it were logical, common sense even. ‘I paint Rembrandts. Misha is better at Picassos.’

  I sat down heavily. I needed a rest after that disclosure.

  ‘Forgeries?’ I managed to say. ‘This is what it’s all about?’

  ‘Not forgeries, no! They are not forgeries.’ She glared at me with contempt. ‘They are originals. We paint only originals, Misha and me. The others, well .… She tailed off with an elegant shrug. Enough said.

  ‘So they are all at it, all the students?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And Borovsky pays you all money?’

  ‘Plenty of money, yes. It is a good job, I think.’

  I spread my hands. ‘So?’ I said, trying hard to enter into the spirit of the conversation. ‘What is the problem?’

  ‘The problem is if you want to stop. Misha and me, we want to stop and go home to Russia. We have enough money now to build our house, and to have babies. But Borovsky say no – you must work some more, much more.’

  Her command of English suffered as she became more intense and excited, but I understood her well enough. Jac had evidently been right about the presence of forgeries in Meridion House, but neither of us had had any idea of the nature or scale of what was going on there. Industrial production, it sounded like.

  ‘People can’t stay with Borovsky for ever, surely? They must leave sometime?’

  ‘It is true. Some people leave, and don’t come back. New people arrive.’

  ‘Did you know any who left?’

  ‘A few, yes. My friend from St Petersburg, Anna. Also, Misha’s friend from China. They left and went home.’

  Did they really? Or did they end up on the beach at Port Holland?

  ‘But he says we can’t leave, Misha and me. We must work more, and make more paintings. But we don’t want to work any more. So there is big problem.’

  She paused and looked around. ‘Your house is very nice, I think. It is how I would like my house to be, in the country.’

  I just nodded, stunned by the enormity of her revelations.

  She agreed to stay for a while. I was relieved about that. She seemed none the worse for her ordeal in the open but I didn’t want her to venture out there again. Enough was enough. Besides, I wanted more information from her. I hoped Jac would be here soon to help me get it.

  ‘What is your name?’ I asked. That would do for a start.

  She hesitated, mindful of the fact, I suppose, that information is power. ‘Sasha,’ she said in due course.

  ‘Sasha? A nice name.’

  She smiled and added, ‘Yes. It means “Defender of Mankind”.’

  23

  Iwent back to collect the Land Rover. Then we talked a little more. We ate a meal I prepared. Sasha had a shower. I piled wood into the stove. Then Sasha reappeared.

  ‘Feel better?’ I asked.

  ‘Thank you, yes.’

  ‘Now you should rest. You have had a difficult time.’

  She shrugged. ‘Not so difficult, I think.’

  ‘Not cold, wet and hungry? The hut doesn’t offer many luxuries.’

  She glanced at me sharply.

  ‘That is where you were staying, isn’t it? The hut on the beach?’

  Reluctantly, she nodded, confirming what I had suspected since my visit.

  ‘It is yours?’ she asked.

  ‘My friend, Jimmy’s. The old fisherman in the other cottage. It’s his.’

  She shrugged. ‘It is not damaged.’

  ‘No, of course it isn’t. And we don’t mind you being there. It would have been better for you to be here, but—’

  ‘I have told you. It is too dangerous to be here.’

  I let it go. She was on edge. That wasn’t surprising if half of what she had told me was true. But I was still trying to assess the scale of the problem, and becoming desperate for Jac to get here. I needed help with my visitor.

  ‘Your friend,’ I said. ‘Is he in danger? Immediate danger, I mean?’

  ‘Who knows.’ She shrugged again in her fatalistic way. ‘Maybe they have not killed him yet, but they will soon if I do not return.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Then they will leave in Borovsky’s ship. They are nearly ready to go. They can’t stay anywhere long in case they are discovered.’

  I hadn’t thought of that. But of course! A man with a big, fancy boat like Borovsky’s doesn’t have to stay anywhere long, and it might well be dangerous to do so. On the high seas he would be much safer.

  All he really needed was to find somewhere ashore from time to time, somewhere quiet and out of the way where no one paid much attention to what he was doing. Somewhere exactly like Meridion House. I was beginning to understand how a man like Borovsky could have landed in Port Holland.

  ‘Perhaps we can rescue Misha?’ I said, privately thinking it would be a lot better to risk the wrath of Bill Peart and blow the whistle. After all, what were police forces for?

  ‘Yes,’ she said, as if the necessity and perhaps the outcome were already agreed. ‘We must do that.’

  I smiled to myself. We! I seemed to be part of the team now.

  Even so, I knew that if I picked up the phone and made that call, Sasha would probably scoot out the door and disappear again. She didn’t seem to have my confidence in the police, or in any other authorities.

  Besides, I would then have Bill Peart to contend with, not only for waking him up at this hour but also for ignoring his instruction to keep away from anything involving Meridion House. On the whole, it seemed politic to wait. At least to think it through a bit more.

  ‘Have you had enough to eat?’ I asked.

  ‘Thank you, yes.’

  She had eaten sparingly, but with interest, selecting what she wanted. I was surprised she hadn’t simply wolfed down everything in sight.

  ‘Go to bed,’ I suggested. ‘Get some rest. We can talk more in the morning.’

  She considered my suggestion carefully. ‘With you?’ she asked.

  I smiled and shook my head. ‘You can sleep in the same room I showed you last time. I have a girlfriend,’ I added, just in case she was still uncertain about my motives.

  ‘You are very kind man,’ she said with a smile of her own. ‘First you let me eat all your bread. Then I don’t have to sleep with you.’

  She had a directness that sometimes surprised me, but just then I smiled at her again. ‘Tell me that when you know me better,’ I suggested.

  She made her way upstairs, leaving me to ponder what she had told me. There was a lot to consider, but at least I had found her, and found her alive still. That was a huge relief.

  Right then, nothing else seemed to matter very much. One way or another, her problems could be sorted – so I assured myself anyway. We would make some plans first thing in the morning.

  Then the phone rang.

  ‘Mr Doy?’

  ‘It is, yes.’

  ‘Now is a time for plain speaking, Mr Doy. You have the girl. We want her back.’

  Borovsky!

  ‘You have a lot of nerve. Who the hell do you think you are?’

  ‘My men will be there shortly to collect her. Do not try to make it difficult for them. And do not think of contacting the authorities. If you do, there will be consequences neither she nor you will like.’

  The phone went dead.

  I dropped the phone back on its anchor point and started pacing the room. Shit, shit, shit! How the hell did they know?

  Surely they didn’t have someone watching the cottage?

  No, of course they bloody didn’t! If they did, they would have been able
to intercept her. At the very least, they would already have been here.

  The answer soon came to me; it was obvious once I had recovered from the shock. They must have left some sort of eavesdropping device here – here in my home! Probably when they ransacked the place. A microphone and transmitter. Or just a simple bug.

  ‘Was it them?’

  I looked up. Sasha had appeared on the stairs.

  I nodded.

  ‘What did they want?’

  ‘You,’ I said. ‘They are coming for you.’

  No point hiding it from her.

  ‘I will go.’

  ‘No! Get dressed, but you’re going nowhere without me.’

  While I was talking I was unscrewing the base of the phone unit.

  ‘What will we do?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I put a finger across my lips and then pointed to the phone. She seemed to understand. At least, she nodded and shut up.

  There was nothing in the phone. I put it back together and made a fast reconnaissance of the room, looking for anything out of place or out of the ordinary. Nothing that I could see. I cursed violently. Me, a security consultant!

  I would be able to find it, whatever it was, but that would take time, time we didn’t have. They could be here in quarter of an hour from Meridion House. Already five minutes had elapsed. But they were not taking her, not after all the trouble I’d already been to. I was more than adamant about that.

  I was still wearing my boots. I put on a fleece and outdoor jacket. Then I grabbed the shotgun and stuffed my pockets with shotgun cartridges. I also collected my hidden Glock.

  From what Sasha had told me, I couldn’t risk bringing in the police now. Her friend’s life would be over if I did. I could guess what Borovsky had had in mind when he referred to consequences. So I had to deal with the problem myself, and protect Sasha while I was at it.

  ‘Can you manage in those boots?’ I asked her when she reappeared.

  Then I mimed to her, telling her to get dressed.

  She nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, donning my sweater and parka again.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of this.’

  She looked at me doubtfully.

  ‘I’m good,’ I told her. ‘Believe me!’

  ‘You know what you are doing?’

  I nodded. But I couldn’t afford to say more.

  Once outside, and away from anyone listening in, I said, ‘Go back to the hut. You’ll be safe there.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I will stay with you.’

  I grimaced. There was no time for this.

  ‘Just do what I tell you,’ I snapped. ‘No arguments! OK? Understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And if it goes badly, run like hell!’

  ‘Do not worry about me,’ she said, giving me a serious look. ‘I am competent.’

  I didn’t know why, but I was inclined to believe her. I wasn’t going to worry about her. I had enough to do and to think about. And time was pressing.

  24

  Istarted the Land Rover, drove along the track and stopped near the entrance from the main road. My short-term tactic was to hold them off as long as possible, and as far from home as possible, while Sasha got clear. Then we’d see. That might be when I called Bill Peart.

  I parked at a point where the Land Rover filled the track. To either side were drops of a few feet into soggy ground. Not even a big 4 x 4 would be able to get past without shunting me out of the way.

  I switched the lights off but kept the engine running. I checked the shotgun and laid it across my knees. Then I waited.

  When I saw headlights approaching and heard the sound of a vehicle slowing down, I got out and walked a few paces up the track and off to the side.

  The approaching vehicle turned onto the track, its headlights bouncing wildly until they lit up the Land Rover. Then it came to a stop a few yards away. It looked like one of the big BMWs I’d seen at Meridion House. Definitely not equipped for rough, cross-country travel over boggy ground.

  I stepped up to the driver’s door and rapped on the window with the shotgun barrel. It was hard to see who was inside the car but there were several people there.

  A face turned towards me. I rapped again, harder. The window slid down. A man I hadn’t seen before stared out at me.

  ‘Back up,’ I told him. ‘Back up, and get out of here.’

  ‘We have come for something that is ours,’ he said in a heavily accented voice.

  I shook my head. ‘You’ve come to the wrong place. Get out while you can.’

  I sensed movement the other side of him and in the back of the car. I jammed the barrel into his face, hard. ‘Both barrels,’ I said softly. ‘In your face.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  He wasn’t phased at all. Tough guy.

  ‘This is private property. Back up and leave!’

  ‘What are you going to do if I don’t?’

  I could hear the smile in his voice now.

  The rear door swung open on my side. I saw a leg protrude beneath the bottom of the door. I slammed the door with my foot. A crack like a snapping stick, together with the resultant scream, suggested serious damage to the intruding leg.

  ‘Back up!’ I said again.

  Nothing happened. I reached inside and pressed the button in the roof for the interior lights. I could see now there were four of them. They had come mob-handed. Two I recognized, one yowling in the back with what I hoped was a broken leg, and one in the passenger seat.

  ‘That’s better!’ I said. ‘Some of us have met before, haven’t we?’

  The guy in the passenger seat glowered at me. He must be the one who had phoned me.

  ‘The answer to your question about my house,’ I told him, ‘is no. I didn’t like what you did to it. I didn’t like the work you did on my elderly neighbour either. So it’s good to see you both again.’

  I racked the shotgun, angled it slightly and pulled the trigger. The windscreen exploded. Glass everywhere. I held the barrel against the driver’s face a moment, the heat from it scorching his face. Then I stepped back and pulled out the Glock.

  Almost at the same time the Land Rover’s headlights came alight on high beam. That was a shock but I recovered quickly and shouted at the man emerging from the far side of the car. He stopped in mid-stride.

  ‘Get back in,’ I told him.

  He got back in.

  ‘Now what?’ the driver said.

  ‘Like I said, back up.’ I swung the barrel of the shotgun against the rear side window, smashing it. Then I pushed it into the driver’s chest and prodded hard. ‘Now!’

  He reached for the gear lever and found reverse. The car began to scream backwards. I stepped out of the light and ran alongside in a pool of darkness. I could see them but they couldn’t see me. More important, they had no idea how many of us there were.

  Nor had I.

  The BMW backed on to the road and sped off. It was a temporary reprieve. I knew they would be back. Probably very soon.

  Sooner than I’d expected, in all probability. I heard the screech of brakes. When I turned round, the BMW was doing a three-point turn fifty yards down the road. It completed the turn and stopped, pointing this way. We weren’t going to be able to get out by road. That was clear.

  I trotted back towards the Land Rover, shielding my eyes until the high beams dipped. Sasha was in the driving seat. She slid across to the other side when I arrived.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘But you weren’t supposed to be here. What happened?’

  ‘You needed help,’ she said simply. ‘I knew you did.’

  I let it go. We didn’t have time to debate might-have-beens and what-ifs. We had to get out, and fast.

  25

  They would be back. And soon. I didn’t have any doubt about that. They would regroup and return, bringing with them God knew what as reinforcements. A naval barrage from Meridion, perha
ps? Meanwhile, we couldn’t escape in the Land Rover; The BMW was effectively a cork in the bottle. They might be minus a windscreen and carrying one or two injuries, but we couldn’t out-run them in the Land Rover even if they didn’t bring up reinforcements.

  ‘What will we do?’ Sasha asked.

  ‘I’m working on it.’ I threw her a smile and added, ‘Don’t worry so much!’

  She didn’t smile back.

  I stopped the Land Rover outside the cottage and threw the door open. The sleet had started again. And the wind was shrieking.

  ‘We have to get out on foot,’ I said. ‘We can’t stay here. We’d just be trapped.’

  ‘Where will we go?’

  ‘Back to the hut. They don’t know about that. But we need to collect a few things together first.’

  I expected them to return in minutes, probably with more men. There was no way I could hold them off from inside the cottage. My get-out-of-jail card was to call Bill Peart, but I wasn’t quite ready to use it. The police were too far away to help and these were desperate, ruthless people. They weren’t going to let Sasha’s friend Misha survive to tell his tale.

  For the moment, though, I wasn’t thinking too much about Misha. Keeping Sasha and myself alive was a big enough challenge.

  Back at the cottage I pulled a couple of rucksacks out of the cupboard and threw one to Sasha.

  ‘We’ve only got a couple of minutes,’ I told her. ‘Go upstairs and grab any clothes you think you might need. Pack this sleeping bag as well.’

  She went off without question, which was a relief. We hadn’t time to debate anything.

  I grabbed a sleeping bag for myself and an extra fleece. Then I started jamming food into the rucksack. Some extra cartridges for the shotgun and the Glock, as well. Matches and a knife.

  ‘I am ready,’ Sasha announced.

  ‘Good!’

  I threw her a smile. I was impressed by her fortitude. Wherever did I get the idea that young art students, or art graduates, must be soft and fearful when thrown into the real world?