The Tides of Change

by Joanna Rees

  ‘It’s gonna get bumpy. Hold on,’ Rufus called as they shuddered over the pothole-ridden, mud-slicked road.

  Frankie pulled at her hair, which was blowing into her carefully applied lip gloss, and tucked it down the collar of her cropped combat jacket – one of Todd’s PA Claire’s trendy freebies. She hoped that by the time she arrived to see Alex, she didn’t look too much of a state. She’d hardly slept last night, not least because of the storm, but knowing that today was the day she would finally get to see him.

  She hadn’t been to the Caribbean since she’d first taken the job aboard Pushkin and she’d forgotten just how inviting those waters were, how intoxicating the colours, the sheer vibrancy of the place.

  And now as they headed inland from the coast, the road they were following grew rougher, as if the tourist dollars which funded the rest of the island hadn’t quite stretched this far. Rufus wasn’t kidding about the bumps. Frankie’s teeth were rattling as the jeep twisted through the rutted tarmac.

  The land was rougher too, less cultivated. In fewer than ten minutes they were cutting through thick jungle. Lushly vegetated hills stretched up either side of the jeep. She looked at the birds now flying down to the sparkling ocean which she glimpsed through the trees.

  Rufus waved as they passed a wooden roadside shack. A pretty woman waved back, flashing them a smile. Some kids playing cricket, using a petrol can as stumps, ran a little way after them as the jeep drove past, beeping its horn.

  It was good to see real people again, Frankie thought, and to be out in the open air. Ever since she’d caught the puddle-jumper down from Puerto Rico a few days ago, she’d relished her feeling of freedom. She’d seen so much in the last few weeks: Alex’s riad, the hotel in Cannes, Todd’s French villa. Then Todd’s Lear jet, which had flown them back to his palatial mansion in Beverly Hills. But their existence had been so enclosed, cut-off, defended. It had been like living in a series of castles, where the cost of all that opulence had been a loss of personal freedom. Frankie realized now, more than ever, why Alex loved his place in Marrakech so much.

  Frankie thought of all the conversations she’d had with Todd as their friendship had developed and they’d walked through the walled gardens of his residences learning the lines for his play.

  If only Alex had known that Todd was gay. If only he could see what a great person Todd was, then none of their stupid misunderstanding would have happened. And even though Todd had sworn her to secrecy, Frankie was here on a mission to get Alex back. And she would get him back, she’d make sure of it. With a face and a heart like hers, Todd had told her, how could she fail?

  But it was one thing to be buoyed up by Todd’s enthusiasm about her romantic trip to the BVIs, it was quite another to be here. As the jeep turned into the drive of a huge mansion, she felt jittery with nerves.

  Since he’d stopped her outside Heavenly House (which had looked absolutely nothing like the place she’d imagined when she’d seen Alex first write it down on Pushkin) and asked her why she was here, Rufus had said very little. She’d said she was here to meet Alexei Rodokov, that she knew he was due at this address today. In the face of his further silence, she panicked. She’d then lied and told him she was one of Alex’s colleagues.

  He’d stepped away from her and made a discreet phone call. Then he’d told her that she needed to come with him. He worked for Alex and he’d take her to him.

  And now Frankie was just seconds away from seeing Alex. She looked up at the stone mansion. It was typical Alex: elegant, understated; probably an old plantation property, she guessed. Rich in history, just like Alex’s riad in Morocco had been.

  Would he keep horses here too? she wondered. Would they end up riding through these hills together and watching the sun set over the distant horizon?

  Yet it was only now as they came to a stop outside the mansion’s colonnaded front door that the possibility of failure occurred to her.

  What if Khordinsky was with Alex? What if he was furious that she was interrupting a business meeting? What if Khordinsky stopped her from speaking to Alex? Or Alex still flatly refused to give her an opportunity to explain herself?

  She would have to deal with it, she told herself, remembering her resolution in the police cell to be brave. She was here, wasn’t she? What more could she do to prove to Alex how much their relationship meant to her? And if she had to, she’d confront Khordinsky and expose him for the liar he was. She’d risk Khordinsky’s wrath and his reputation for violence. Alex would have to protect her once he found out she was telling the truth.

  Frankie followed Rufus through the open front door and across a large marbled entrance hall, down a short corridor with white painted floorboards and into a vast kitchen overlooking a colourful garden at the back of the house.

  A man and a woman, both in their late forties, sat at an old wooden table. The woman looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading, then stood and stared hard into Frankie’s eyes. She was small with stylish short copper hair swept back from her face with sunglasses and she was wearing a loose white linen smock top and trousers.

  She glanced anxiously across at a man, who was talking into a cell phone. He was English, educated and wealthy. He finished his call and placed the phone on the table. He stood up. He was tall with amazing blue eyes and reddish-blond hair.

  ‘This is her,’ Rufus said to them both. He clicked at the Labrador, who followed him towards the kitchen screen door. ‘I’ve left Eli there watching the offices. He’ll call if he sees anything,’ he said to the man. As Rufus went through the door with the dog, the man touched his arm and thanked him.

  Frankie was confused. Where was Alex? Were these people his staff? They certainly didn’t look like it. Why was some guy called Eli watching the offices? It didn’t make sense.

  ‘Um . . .’ Frankie began. ‘I’m not sure I’m in the right place . . .’

  ‘I’m Emma Harvey,’ the woman said. ‘And this is my friend David Coulter.’

  ‘I don’t understand?’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve rather tricked you,’ David said.

  ‘You mean Alex isn’t here?’ Frankie said. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘Who’s Alex?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Alexei Rodokov,’ Frankie said. ‘I thought Rufus was bringing me to meet Alex? Here?’

  David and Emma exchanged a look. ‘Yes,’ David said. ‘I’m afraid Rufus lied. My fault, not his. I told him to get you here no matter what it took. Telling you what you wanted to hear seemed like the easiest way.’

  ‘But that’s kidnapping,’ Frankie said, horrified at how easily she’d been duped, the feeling of freedom she’d been so enjoying evaporating.

  David grimaced. ‘Um, technically, for it to be kidnapping you’d have to have been brought here against your will.’

  ‘Call it what you will, you’ve still brought me here under completely false pretences.’

  Emma cleared her throat. ‘You said Alexei Rodokov. He’s Russian, I take it?’

  ‘What of it?’ Frankie demanded, no longer in the mood to play along, not while she didn’t have a clue who these people were.

  ‘He’s not anything to do with Yuri Khordinsky, is he?’ Emma asked.

  Frankie was getting more and more confused. ‘Khordinsky is his boss. Why?’

  Emma covered her face.

  ‘Can someone please tell me what’s going on?’ Frankie asked.

  ‘You’d better sit down,’ David said. ‘I think we’ve all got a lot of explaining to do.’

  Frankie stared at Emma and David in astonishment, her mind spinning from everything they’d just told her about poor Emma’s husband and the fake platinum mine. About all the investors who’d been fleeced, the money that had disappeared here in Tortola and about Khordinsky moving into Emma’s ancestral home.

  Her overriding reaction was of pity for Emma, for the loss of her husband. But Frankie felt something else equally powerful as she stared at the older woman. In Emma’s eyes s
he saw kinship. Solidarity. She was looking at another woman whose life Khordinsky had decided to destroy.

  Frankie had always worked on instinct and followed her heart. It was no different now. She trusted Emma automatically. She could sense the honesty in her. Her panic over having been tricked into coming subsided. Fate had brought her here. Emma was just after information. The same as her.

  ‘Listen, Frankie, you seem like an intelligent girl,’ David said. ‘But I have to tell you, I don’t like the sound of this.’ He glanced at Emma. ‘If this Rodokov guy is linked to Julian’s companies in any way, then there’s every chance that he’s involved in the fraud. I mean, have you any idea what poor Julian went through? And if your boyfriend is involved then—’

  ‘But I know Alex had nothing to do with it,’ Frankie insisted. ‘Well,’ she added, determined not to lie, ‘I don’t know for sure.’ She turned to Emma, appealing to her. ‘But I do know that he wouldn’t have wanted anything to happen to your husband.’

  But Emma’s face was drawn. ‘How do you know? Why do you trust him so much?’

  ‘Because I know him. Because . . .’ Before Frankie could stop herself, she found herself blurting out everything about her relationship with Alex. About her time with him on the boat and in Morocco. She found herself defending him too, telling them about his work at the orphanage and his honesty and integrity.

  She was desperate for them not to put Alex and Khordinsky in the same camp, because they weren’t the same – were they? They couldn’t be. Not in a million years.

  She also told them about Alex’s blind loyalty to Khordinsky. ‘But I know that Khordinsky is using him,’ Frankie explained. ‘He went to great lengths to set me up and get me away from Alex. He’s clever: Alex knew nothing about it. And Alex trusts him. So Khordinsky could say anything he wanted to Alex and he’d believe it. Which is why I think he’s using him to front his companies.’

  ‘But if he’s here to shut down all those companies,’ David said, ‘and there is a link between Matryoshka-Enterprises and Platinum Reach, then surely that proves that Alex knows all about the missing money? Surely he’s here to close down the paper trail?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Alex thinks he’s coming here to sign off paperwork on dormant companies. He talked about it as if it was tedious admin.’

  ‘You obviously care about him a great deal,’ Emma said.

  Frankie nodded. ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘Excuse me, David,’ Rufus said, appearing in the doorway with another, shorter man. Emma immediately looked worried.

  David went out of the room for a moment. When he returned he said, ‘I’ve got to go down to the mooring. The yacht’s breaking loose. But I want you both to stay here,’ he went on. ‘Promise me. You’re not to do anything stupid.’

  As soon as David had gone, Frankie turned to Emma. ‘Look, Emma, it seems to me that you’ve borne the brunt of people thinking Julian was a coward when you know he wasn’t. And I know it seems to you as if Alex could be involved with this fraud with the platinum mine, but you have to believe me on this one. Alex is a man of integrity. I know it. And I’ll prove it to you.’

  Emma nodded, biting her lip.

  ‘Alex said he’d be here today: he’s going to visit those offices. I’ve got to be there too. I’ve got to see if I can talk to him. This is my only chance. So I’m going back there, OK?’

  ‘If you’re going, then I’m coming with you,’ Emma said. ‘That other man who was with Rufus just now, he was Eli. He was meant to be watching Detroy’s offices, but he obviously isn’t.’

  ‘But what about your . . . ?’ She nearly said ‘boyfriend’. It was obvious to Frankie that David cared very deeply about Emma. ‘What about David?’

  ‘No. This is too important,’ Emma said. ‘If I tell him we’re going back there, he’ll only try and stop us. It’s best not to tell him at all.’

  Frankie nodded at Emma. She could see that the older woman had made a decision: she would be Frankie’s ally. Frankie smiled to herself. Yes, that’s what she’d got here. Someone with a common goal: to break down Khordinsky’s web of lies.

  She reached out her hand and Emma took it and they shook.

  ‘To uncovering the truth,’ Emma said, her bright eyes steely with determination.

  ‘The truth,’ Frankie agreed, and they both stood up and walked together, side by side, to the door.

  Emma and Frankie soon made it back to Road Town, with the help of Johnnie, the local taxi driver, who hung out at the bar in Soper’s Hole’.

  Johnnie was an amicable man, who drove slowly, asking Emma questions about Julian, slowing down to look in the rear-view mirror as Emma replied. Emma answered as best she could and Frankie could tell how painful it was for her. But she also knew that Emma was just as frustrated as Frankie. Emma glanced at Frankie, as if to apologize for Johnnie. As they reached the centre of Road Town, Johnnie stopped the car right in the middle of the road and started bantering with another driver, pointing to the mass of black clouds in the distance.

  ‘Oh God,’ Emma said, glancing at her watch, then back at Frankie.

  They weren’t far from Heavenly House. Maybe a five-minute walk. Frankie felt apprehension growing inside her. What if Alex was already there? What if she’d missed her chance?

  Each second hung heavy, like a tolling bell, as Johnnie continued to chat.

  ‘Please,’ Frankie finally interrupted him. ‘Can we just—’

  She never finished her sentence. A shiny black SUV had just crossed the road ahead of them, coming from the direction of Heavenly House. It slowed at the entrance to the harbour, less than twenty metres from where Frankie and Emma were in the taxi.

  The driver’s window dropped. The SUV drove through on to the dock, where the most expensive yachts were moored.

  The SUV was far too sleek to be local. Too moneyed. Too Russian. Frankie knew in her guts that Alex was inside.

  She didn’t waste another second.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Emma called as Frankie scrambled out of the taxi.

  But Frankie had no time to reply. She ran across the road and ducked under the security barrier, ignoring the shouts of the guards in the booths to its side. At the far end of the pier, a hundred metres away, the SUV had stopped next to a silver seaplane which bobbed in the choppy harbour water.

  Frankie shaded her eyes, watching as several men got out. And then she saw Alex and her heart jolted, her legs automatically moving as if a starter pistol had gone off. She called out, frantically sprinting up the jetty. But Alex didn’t hear her and didn’t turn to see her.

  ‘Wait! Wait!’ she shouted, frantic and breathless, running with all her might, but it was too late. The seaplane was already drifting away. As she reached the end of the jetty, she watched the seaplane speed across the water. She put her hands on her knees, her heart thumping wildly in her throat. As she looked up, panting, she saw the seaplane take off into the air.

  ‘Shit!’ she cried out. ‘Shit. Shit. Shit.’

  Her first thought was that it was Emma and David’s fault. If they hadn’t tricked her into going to David’s house, then she’d have been at Detroy’s offices to intercept Alex when he’d arrived. But then she remembered she and Emma were on the same side. It was just rotten timing, that was all.

  Not that this made her feel any better. She wanted to scream. To have travelled all this way and to have missed him by mere seconds . . . it was too cruel to be true. As if the fate she’d thought had brought her to Emma was now playing a trick on her.

  She shielded her eyes as lightning momentarily illuminated the dark clouds. Already Alex’s plane was just a black line, tiny as a seagull. Then it headed into the clouds and was gone, running from the storm that was heading this way.

  Frankie shivered as lightning flickered again. She wondered where he was rushing off to. What task had Khordinsky lined up for him next? It could be anything. Anywhere.

  A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. ‘What you doin
g, lady?’ the guard demanded.

  Frankie shook herself free. ‘Do you know where that plane’s going?’

  ‘No, but it’s the last one allowed out. The storm’s coming. And you’re not supposed to be here. You’d better get going.’

  Frankie saw Emma waving at her frantically from the other side of the barrier. Her hope lifted slightly. She wasn’t alone. Emma could help her.

  ‘Sorry,’ Frankie said to the guard, ‘I won’t bother you again.’

  ‘Was it him?’ Emma asked, as Frankie reached her. ‘Your Alex?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Frankie bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of this woman who’d suffered so much more than her, but who still hadn’t given up hope.

  ‘It’s OK. I’m sorry,’ Emma said. She laid her hand on Frankie’s arm.

  ‘Me too. And for you as well,’ Frankie added. ‘Because without Alex you haven’t got anything either, have you? This is such a disaster.’

  Emma pulled her jacket closer around her as heavy raindrops started to spit. ‘That’s not entirely true.’

  ‘What is it?’ Frankie asked, following Emma as she ducked against the wind and headed across the road to the safety of the bus shelter.

  When they’d run in from the onslaught of the rain, Emma turned to Frankie. ‘Detroy,’ she said. ‘He’s got a computer in his office. He said all the files were on there. If we could somehow get that computer out of there . . . I don’t know . . . then maybe we could find someone who could—’

  But Frankie was already grinning.

  ‘No need. We don’t have to,’ Frankie said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Emma asked.

  ‘We don’t need to get the computer out of there. All we need is to find a way of getting me in.’

  The back door of Heavenly House gave easily. Its rusted lock was in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the building. Frankie stepped nervously inside. After stopping by the stationery store, where Frankie had bought a USB memory stick, they’d hung out in the café watching and waiting for Detroy to leave the building. And, sure enough, ten minutes ago, they’d seen him get on his moped, heading home like just about everyone in town, running for cover before the storm closed in.