Perfect Strangers

by Tasmina Perry

  Sophie smiled as she began the ritual of opening the hard coral shell and pulling out the sweet snow-white meat. Her mother meant well, of course, it was just that Julia’s idea of what constituted an ideal husband – the one with the biggest pile of gold – seemed ridiculously naïve now. Sophie could barely believe the hours she had spent smiling politely as red-faced boys called Rupert or Alexander boasted about their small achievements at endless Chelsea dinner parties or slumped against the bar in too-loud, too-smug nightclubs. But her mother had been wrong. Just because a man had money didn’t make him right for you. A good marriage was never going to make you happy if there was no love, no chemistry with the man you were marrying. She looked out at the sea, now bruising orange and purple as the sun dipped closer and closer to the waves, and wondered how she could have missed out on all this. Not this swanky restaurant, but feeling like this. As if life was one big adventure, even if right now it meant being in quite a lot of danger. And sharing that adventure with one person who made you feel alive, special, just by the way he looked at you.

  You’ve fallen for him, whispered a voice in her head as she plunged her fingers into the lemon water.

  Suddenly she just wanted to see Josh. Lost in her thoughts, she wasn’t exactly sure how long he’d been gone, but she was sure he should be back by now. She scanned the room nervously.

  Where was he? The noise seemed to swell around her, the laughter from the next table taking on a malicious, sinister air. She didn’t even have enough money to pay for the meal. She stood up, fighting down the urge to panic, and stopped a waiter.

  ‘My friend from this table?’ she said. ‘Have you seen him?’

  The waiter shook his head and Sophie moved through the tables towards the restrooms. Knocking on the door of the men’s, she called Josh’s name, but there was no response. Pushing all those ingrained ideas of social niceties to one side, she opened the door and ducked inside. ‘Josh? Are you in here?’

  But there was nothing except two urinals and an empty stall.

  ‘Josh, where are you?’ she whispered urgently, moving back towards the kitchen – could he have gone to speak to the chef? And then there he was, coming out of a door marked ‘Office’.

  Her heart swelled with relief. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been stuck at the table . . .’ His handsome face looked so serious, she stopped.

  ‘What’s going on, Josh?’

  ‘The manager has arranged a meeting,’ he said, taking her arm and leading her through the steamy kitchen, ignoring the glances of the staff in their whites. Sophie felt her pulse quicken. She knew this was the plan, but now it was actually happening, she wasn’t at all sure it was the right thing to do. ‘Do you trust me?’ – that was what Josh had asked her when they’d arrived at the Steppes. Nothing had changed, the answer was still yes, so when a black SUV pulled up at the kitchen’s rear door, she got inside after Josh without a word, even though it felt as if they had just walked into the lion’s den.

  The car crossed the bridge from the island and drove south, on to Collins Avenue and along the Miami seashore. Sophie wished she had seen South Beach in different circumstances, because it truly was glamorous. The sorbet-coloured hotels, the art deco lines, the hot Latin sounds pumping out of the bars; it was like a neon-lit party town. Now they were passing the waterfront mansions and sleek motor yachts moored in Biscayne Bay. This was multimillionaire central, the playground of some of America’s richest citizens. An iron gate swung inwards and the car turned off the road, past an armed guard and into a circular drive. The house behind was a Spanish hacienda-style with whitewashed walls and a rippled terracotta roof, and beyond it Sophie could just glimpse the sea. Whatever illegal activities the Kaskov family were up to, they were certainly lucrative. Properties of this size weren’t bought with the proceeds of surf ’n’ turf restaurants, no matter how popular they might be.

  A squat man in a black suit opened the car’s door and beckoned them out. Then wordlessly he turned and walked around the side of the house. Josh and Sophie could only follow, across a sloping emerald lawn to where a man in riding gear was standing next to a horse, brushing its glossy chestnut coat. Despite her fear, Sophie couldn’t resist reaching out to stroke the horse’s neck.

  ‘Beautiful, yes?’ said the man, turning towards her. Sophie was caught off guard. She had been expecting a stable-boy type, but the man holding the reins was strikingly handsome, with chiselled features and dark hair that gleamed. In fact, he looked exactly like the many gorgeous South American polo players she and her friends had giggled over on their summer trips to the Guards or Cowdray Park polo clubs.

  ‘She’s a polo pony, isn’t she?’ said Sophie.

  The man nodded appreciatively.

  ‘She’s a Criollo/Arabian cross, from Argentina, which makes her one of the best breeds of polo ponies in the world. Now I just have to decide if I want to buy her. What do you think?’

  He looked Sophie up and down, his dark eyes running over her as if he were feeling her haunches and checking her teeth.

  ‘I’d say you have already made your decision,’ said Sophie, looking away from his blue-eyed stare.

  ‘So you are Sophie Ellis,’ he said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Yes. We’re here to see Sergei Kaskov.’

  He turned and offered a hand.

  ‘Then I am pleased to meet you, Sophie Ellis.’

  Sophie was stunned. On the drive from the Steppes, she had imagined what Uri the Bear’s son would be like and had pictured a crop-haired thug with a scarred face. The real Sergei Kaskov looked like a model in a Ralph Lauren advert and sounded like the product of an English prep school. He motioned to a security guard to take the horse away.

  ‘Let’s sit by the water,’ he said, walking down the lawn. ‘It’s a much more pleasant place to talk.’

  The grass ended in a tiled area surrounding a beautiful infinity pool which seemed to flow straight into the ocean beyond the compound. Sergei gestured towards a pair of white sofas separated by a low table. ‘Please, make yourselves comfortable,’ he said. ‘Can I get you anything to drink? Some food perhaps?’

  ‘Thank you, no,’ said Sophie as they sat across from him. Despite the Russian’s smooth manner, she was on edge and her appetite had completely deserted her. It didn’t help that the squat man and two others were standing at a discreet distance watching their every move. She didn’t want to turn, but she suspected there were others behind them too.

  ‘Well now,’ said Sergei. ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m sure you’re aware we’ve been looking for you for quite some time.’

  ‘Looking for her? That’s one way of putting it,’ said Josh.

  Sophie willed him to be quiet. Sergei might look like a gentleman, but they had both heard about his father’s impatience with Michael Asner; she sensed confrontation was not the best approach.

  ‘I have not been seeking Miss Ellis personally, Mr McCormack,’ said Sergei calmly. ‘Although having now met her, perhaps I should have done. Sadly, these days it is often necessary to outsource certain tasks. I apologise if one of my contractors has been a little heavy-handed.’

  ‘We’ve been shot at, chased, run off the road,’ said Josh. ‘You could have killed her.’

  ‘I don’t want to kill you, Miss Ellis,’ said Sergei, leaving a slight emphasis on the word ‘want’. Sophie looked into those glacial blue eyes and got the message loud and clear. He didn’t want to, but he would if he had to.

  ‘Whatever you may have heard about me, I am simply a businessman. My father conducted a transaction with Michael Asner and we expect that contract to be honoured. It’s quite simple.’

  A maid came and placed a tray on the table, and handed them all a cold glass of pale liquid.

  ‘This is kvass, a traditional Russian drink. Try it,’ said Sergei. It wasn’t a request. Sophie sipped it and suppressed a cough as it burned down her throat.

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ smiled Sergei.

>   ‘What do you want from us, Mr Kaskov?’

  He wiped a small fingerprint smear from the top of his glass.

  ‘I rather thought that was obvious,’ he said. ‘My father protected Michael Asner in prison. In return, Michael offered him a large amount of money. My father called in his investment, but Asner began to drag his feet. Understandably my father was angry.’

  ‘And he killed him,’ said Josh.

  ‘That was unfortunate,’ said Sergei, as if it was of no consequence. ‘Personally I would have waited until Mr Asner had told us how to locate the money. As it was, we only had the first name of the man who was the guardian of the funds. It was weeks before we discovered that “Peter” was your father, Miss Ellis. And then we discovered that he too had passed on.’

  ‘Did you kill him as well?’

  It wasn’t until Josh had asked the question that Sophie realised she desperately wanted to hear the answer. She felt sure you could make a murder look like a heart attack. But Sergei was shaking his head.

  ‘We are not barbaric, Mr McCormack. And we are not stupid; we don’t make the same mistake twice.’

  He looked at them as he sipped his drink slowly.

  ‘So,’ he said finally. ‘I simply wish to know where the money is. Give it to us and I promise you will never see or hear from us again.’

  Sophie suddenly pictured Uri’s men – or had they been Sergei’s? – in her apartment, tearing it apart to find what they wanted; then she saw them in Wade House, beside the river in Chelsea, at the station in Nice, and she knew Josh had been right. These men were ruthless. They would never rest until they had what they wanted.

  ‘She doesn’t know where the money is,’ said Josh.

  ‘You’ll excuse me,’ said Sergei, ‘but I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Well why do you think we’re here?’ said Josh.

  Sergei gave a short laugh. ‘I was rather wondering.’

  ‘We haven’t got a death wish, Mr Kaskov,’ said Josh. ‘The truth is, until we spoke to Ty Connor this morning, we genuinely had no idea who you were. All we knew was that someone was chasing us.’

  ‘Someone killed my friend,’ said Sophie. ‘I thought they were trying to kill me too.’

  Sergei did not react, merely raised his eyebrows slightly, indicating that they should continue.

  ‘So when we heard who you were and what you wanted,’ said Josh, ‘we thought we would come and tell you what we know. Or in this case, don’t know.’

  ‘Very sporting of you,’ said Sergei.

  ‘I don’t want this money, Mr Kaskov,’ said Sophie fiercely. ‘I just want my life back.’

  ‘So what do you know?’ he asked, steepling his fingers in front of his soft pink lips.

  Josh took Sophie’s bag and, unzipping the plastic make-up pouch, pulled out her copy of I Capture the Castle. He passed it to Sergei.

  Sophie’s heart jumped. What was he doing? That was her dad’s gift to her! She wanted to reach out and snatch it back, but she knew that wouldn’t help their situation, so she stayed still.

  ‘This is all we have,’ said Josh. ‘You’ve searched Sophie’s flat; we presume it was you who searched her mother’s house too. This is the only thing that Peter Ellis gave Sophie that has any possible reference to the money. Look on the front page.’

  Sergei opened the book.

  ‘Benedict Grear?’ He frowned. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said Josh. ‘Neither does Asner’s widow and neither does the SEC apparently. But you found Peter Ellis and you found us, so you obviously have the resources to work this out.’

  Sergei gave him the ghost of a smile, as if he was flattered by Josh’s observation.

  ‘And this is all?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sophie and Josh in unison.

  ‘I hope so,’ said Sergei. He waved the book in the air and the squat guy stepped forward and took it.

  ‘No!’ cried Sophie, unable to stop herself. ‘That’s mine! My father gave it to me!’

  Sergei shook his head, the smile gone.

  ‘No, Miss Ellis, it is mine.’

  He waved his hand again and Sophie screamed as she and Josh were both seized from behind and pulled to their feet.

  ‘Please, you’ve got the book,’ shouted Josh, ‘We’ve told you everything we know.’

  Sergei looked at him coldly.

  ‘Ah, now that is exactly what we’re going to find out.’

  The squat man stepped forward and punched Josh in the mouth. Sophie tried to scream again, but a huge hand clamped around her face, pinning her jaw shut. She could only watch as Josh was held by two big Russians, while the squat man hit him again and again: to the body, to the head.

  ‘No!’ she screamed.

  Sergei stepped in front of her, grabbing her hair and twisting it painfully.

  ‘You care about this man, I take it?’ he said. His voice was soft, almost feminine. Sophie nodded.

  ‘Then tell us where your father hid the money.’

  The hand was removed long enough for her to gasp: ‘I promise you, I don’t know.’

  The squat man brought his knee up into Josh’s stomach, then backhanded him across the face, sending an arc of blood flying on to the tile.

  ‘Josh!’ she shouted.

  ‘Last chance, Miss Ellis,’ said Sergei.

  ‘You have to believe me,’ she pleaded. ‘I would tell you if I knew, but I really, really have no idea, he didn’t ever tell me—’

  The hand covered her mouth again and she struggled in desperation, but whoever was holding her had an iron grip.

  ‘Very well, bring him,’ said Sergei.

  Sophie watched in horror as two of the Russians picked up Josh and carried him to the edge of the pool. At a signal from Sergei, they plunged his head and shoulders under the water. He kicked his legs, thrashing his head from side to side, but his arms were pinned behind him.

  She was screaming hysterically.

  ‘Josh! Josh! Please stop, I’ll do whatever you want, please!’

  Sergei raised a hand and Josh was pulled out, coughing and retching.

  ‘Speak to me, Miss Ellis,’ he said.

  She felt weak and delirious.

  ‘Maybe it’s at my parents’ house,’ she sobbed. ‘He had an office but that was cleared out when he retired. Everything was brought back home.’

  The Russian pushed his face close to hers. ‘Do you take me for a simpleton?’ he hissed. ‘Do you wish to insult me? Of course we searched there, you stupid little girl. There was nothing.’

  His blue eyes held hers as he said, ‘Again.’

  Josh was pushed back into the pool. He fought harder this time, churning the blue water into a white froth, but gradually his movements became slower, less urgent.

  ‘You’re killing him!’ yelled Sophie. ‘Let him up!’

  ‘Tell me what I want to know,’ said Sergei.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. We’ve told you everything we know. You have to believe me.’

  Sergei gazed at her for a moment longer, then gave the slightest shake of his head.

  ‘Get rid of them,’ he said.

  Suddenly it went dark. For a moment Sophie was disorientated, then she felt the material on her face and realised a bag had been put over her head. Her arms were forced behind her back and her wrists bound with thin rope.

  ‘Please, don’t!’ she cried.

  Then she heard a voice very close to her ear, deep and accented.

  ‘Speak or struggle again, I will cut your throat. Nod if you understand.’

  She nodded.

  Helpless and terrified, Sophie was roughly lifted, half carried, half marched, along a path. She had no idea where Josh was, or whether he was being taken to a similar fate. Frozen with terror, her mind sought out a happier, calmer place and she found herself thinking of her father, the last time he had taken her out on Iona, just before he died. Although it had been a
sad time for her dad, Sophie had loved that day out on the river, just the two of them, laughing and talking. Even then, Peter had still been full of his plans to get away, dreaming of that castle on a desert island just like he always had. I hope you’re there now, Daddy, she thought, her tears soaking into the rough fabric covering her face.

  Suddenly there was a thunk and a sliding noise, then Sophie felt herself lifted and pushed down as an engine kicked into life. Of course, she was in the back of a van: she could smell the oil and feel the vibrations through the floor.

  ‘Hello?’ she said tentatively, remembering the threat about speaking. ‘Is anyone—’ She cried out as something heavy was thrown on top of her. It rolled and slithered to one side, then she heard a gasp and a cough: Josh! Her heart leapt – he was alive! She felt a small sliver of hope as she heard the van doors slam and the vehicle began to move. Perhaps they were being taken somewhere else for questioning. Don’t be so bloody stupid, she scolded herself. They were taking them somewhere else, yes. But for disposal, not questioning. Sergei wasn’t so stupid that he’d kill someone on his own property, but then he wouldn’t want them running to the police screaming about torture either. If it were me, I’d dump us in the sea, her mind thought crazily. But another, more steady voice also spoke in her head. Fight back, Sophie, it said. Don’t let them win.

  ‘Josh,’ she whispered. ‘Josh, can you hear me?’

  She was rewarded with a spate of coughing and she moved towards the sound.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said desperately.

  ‘Where do you’ – cough, cough – ‘think I am?’

  She shook the bag off her head. In the dim light of the van, she could see Josh lying curled on his side, shivering uncontrollably. He was wet and cold and probably in shock. A black bag was over his head and his hands were tied in front of him.