by Sam Hepburn
‘None of Viktor’s people will be checking it tonight – they are all out looking for us.’
‘Thanks for the reminder.’
I stumbled to the oak tree and felt around for the keys I’d hidden in the tangle of roots, freaking out till I found they’d slipped deeper than I’d thought. I ran back to the Mini and got Nina to follow the track around, pull up by the little door in the wall and turn off the headlights. I turned to check on Yuri, He was slumped in a twitching, groaning sleep. Oz jumped off his chest and scrambled for the door, tail thumping.
‘Sorry, Oz. You’ve got to stay here with Yuri.’
He whimpered a bit but backed off when he sensed I was serious. I hunted around for the Swiss army knife, swearing loudly when I realised I must have dropped it in the hospital.
‘What is plan?’ Nina hissed.
‘I’ll go through that door, let myself into the house and surprise her. You wait here.’
‘That is not plan.’
Said out loud it did seem a bit short on detail and I didn’t put up much of a fight when she pitched out of the car, pulled off her turban and followed me through the back gate. Most of the lawns had been cleared but the garden was still edged by a shadowy border of chest-high shrubs and bushes that creaked and rustled in the wind. A light glimmered in the house, probably Norma Craig waiting up for news from Viktor.
‘Joe, stay low, there are . . . ’
I froze, blinded by a dazzling burst of light. Blinking with terror, I made a dash for the darkness, cringing behind the statue of a one-armed woman and watching a whole ring of security lights come on round the garden.
‘I told you to stay low.’ Nina was crouching under a bush, pointing up at a winking pinprick of red above the door.
‘How long before they switch themselves off?’ I hissed.
‘A while. Do not move. If anyone looks out maybe they think it was foxes.’
I pressed my back against the ivy-covered stone, trying to stop my heart bursting through my chest, and shifting my eyes nervously from side to side. In the bright light I could see that someone had cleared all the brambles out of the greenhouse, replaced the glass and filled the shelves with tall spindly flowers in pots. To one side of the door was a new water butt with some garden tools propped against it.
A stick gave a warning crack. I spun round.
‘Joe Slattery! I might have known bad blood would out. What were you going to do? Creep into the house and attack me in my bed?’
The sight of Norma Craig stepping from the trees, her silvery hair glittering and the red dragons on her silky black kimono fluttering, blitzed the careful speeches I’d planned. All I could hear was my heart pounding and my voice hissing, ‘You killed her, you killed my mother!’
Her face contorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never killed anyone.’
‘Don’t lie! I know you’re the Vulture. I know you killed Ivo Lincoln to keep it quiet and now you’re going to tell me why you killed my mother.’
I reached out, my fingers closed round the handle of a spade and suddenly I was running at her low and hard, mesmerised by those startled eyes, that pale face and those pink lips twisted in surprise. I was almost on her when a massive pair of hands grabbed me from behind and hurled me into the bushes. I lay there, scratched and winded, looking up into Yuri’s angry, upside-down face.
Grunting, he turned and began a lopsided shuffle towards Norma Craig, leg dragging, arms flailing. Maybe he wanted to get his revenge in first. If I was her I’d have been terrified but she stood her ground.
‘Who are you? What do you want?’
‘Don’t you know me, Miss Norma?’ His voice wasn’t angry, it was low, almost pleading.
‘Of course I don’t know you. Get back and stay back.’
Yuri just kept lumbering towards her and when he was right in front of her he punched his chest and cried out. ‘I am Yuri Borzov.’
Norma stayed cold and calm. ‘I said, I don’t know you. Now turn around, walk away and get off my property.’
Yuri flung his arm towards the lawn, tears pouring down his cheeks. ‘You used to call me Harry. I work in garden, I look after pool, I mend boiler. And you, Miss Norma, you are kind to me. You say, “Harry, you should be film star.”’
I’d been struggling to heave myself up but surprise snatched control of my muscles and I fell back, totally stunned. Norma let out an astonished sob and stumbled back, her eyes fixed on this ravaged mess of a man, as if, like me, she was searching for a glimpse of the good-looking boy whose chiselled features were plastered all over her photo albums.
‘My God, Harry,’ she breathed. ‘What happened to you?’
CHAPTER 21
‘I tell you everything, I lift stone from my heart,’ Yuri said. He lurched back and dragged me to my feet, his bloodshot eyes wide with fury. ‘You are crazy. Why you want to hurt Miss Norma? She is good woman. She is not Vulture.’
The garden door kicked open behind me and a voice that grated like steel on stone said, ‘I’ve never liked the way that name sounds in English. Korshun has so much more of a ring to it.’
A tall, skinny woman in high heels and a fur-trimmed jacket strode in, mobile in one hand, stubby little revolver in the other. She was probably a bit older than Norma though she’d had what Mum would have called ‘a lot of work’ done and her skin was so stretched and mask-like it was difficult to tell her age.
‘Hello, Norma,’ she said. ‘It’s been a while.’
It was like that horrible moment in Sleeping Beauty when the wicked fairy gate crashes the christening. But after all the clues I’d got wrong and the false theories I’d chased here was the Vulture standing feet away and I didn’t have a clue who she was. It looked like Norma did, though. Her quivering fingers were reaching towards the woman’s face, as if she was trying to make out a dim shape trapped in a wall of ice. With a strangled moan Norma clapped her hand to her mouth and gasped, ‘It’s not possible . . .’
The woman said, coolly, ‘A new nose, a few nips and tucks but underneath it’s still me.’
Norma was staring at her, wild eyed. ‘Greville . . . he killed you . . .’
‘No, Norma. That was the sheer genius of it. I killed him.’
A terrible sound – half sob, half scream – spurted out of Norma’s mouth.
‘And actually my name isn’t Janice Gribben. Never was. It’s Jana Morozova.’
The shock was like a blast force ripping through reality, roaring in my ears and turning my brain to sponge. I struggled to catch hold of scraps of meaning before they sank into the mush. Janice wasn’t dead. Janice was the Vulture. Janice wasn’t even English. She was some crazy Russian!
Yuri made a move. Janice lifted her gun and growled at him. He stepped back.
‘Don’t feel bad about it Norma, everyone fell for my dowdy English housekeeper act. That’s why the KGB sent me here.’
Norma was sobbing and shaking her head like a wind-up toy. ‘The KGB? You’re insane. Why would the KGB send anyone to Elysium?’
‘Oh, don’t be so naïve – all those politicians, scientists and military brass rubbing shoulders with your wild celebrity friends. It was perfect for meeting contacts, running spies, catching the odd minister in a compromising position and making him pay for his indiscretions with a few confidential documents. It’s amazing what people will do to hide their grubby little secrets. You of all people should know that, Norma.’
You could tell by the way Norma flinched that she’d caught her right where it hurt. But what with the shock of Janice rising from the dead and the struggle to see how Mum’s death fitted into this chaos, Norma’s secret was the last thing on my mind.
Norma’s knees were giving way. As Nina stumbled out of the bushes to catch her it all kicked off. Yuri threw himself at Jana, Shrek and Bogdan burst out of the undergrowth, Shrek grabbed me, Nina jabbed him in the hand with a trowel, somewhere in the madness I heard Oz barking, and then a gun went off. The force of the shot sent
Yuri spinning backwards and he fell down, clutching his arm.
‘That’s better,’ Jana said, calmly smoothing her hair, which was blonde, stiff and about as fake as her smile. Though hatred was blurring my vision, for a split second I had the feeling I’d seen that smile before. As she turned her head it came to me. She’d been one of the summit delegates in that leaflet I’d found in Ivo Lincoln’s bag.
She was studying us, like we were bits of meat on a slab and when she got to Nina she said something in Russian and curled her lip when Nina stared at her feet and nodded. Then she shifted her attention to me.
‘Quite the little sleuth, aren’t we, Joe Slattery? But thanks for getting Viktor Kozek involved. It saved me the bother of having to bring any more of my own people over.’
I looked away, trying to blank out her jeering words and her mocking smile. But I couldn’t blank out how much I hated myself for trusting Kozek.
Things were looking bad but got a whole lot worse the minute I spotted him and the heavies from the hospital car park coming out of the house with Viktor. He had his phone out. Jana’s mobile buzzed. She answered it and fixed her cold, crazy eyes on Norma. ‘Sorry about your bodyguard, Norma, my colleagues have just made sure he won’t be getting in my way.’
She said something into the phone in Russian. Viktor and the heavies turned right around and went back inside. Whatever it was she’d come for, she obviously didn’t want Viktor listening in.
Yuri was groaning and as I bent down to help him Jana flapped her hand and snapped, ‘Don’t worry about him. As soon as I’ve got the information I need, I’ll be putting you all out of your misery.’
Her tone was so matter-of-fact it took me a couple of seconds to realise what she meant. Though I s’pose I’d known from the minute she’d kicked open the door that it was going take more than a prince and a kiss to give this story a happy ending.
Norma toppled forward, sobbing, ‘Why did you kill Greville, Janice, why?’
‘I had to. He found out about the spy ring.’
‘How?’ Norma was crumbling and the sound came out like the screech of an electric saw. Nina tried to hold her up and smeared blood all down Norma’s cheek. Norma didn’t notice. She was in such a state she hadn’t even asked who Nina was.
‘Funnily enough, it was all the fault of this podgy little Venus,’ Jana said. She tapped her gun against the one-armed statue, smirking at the echoey noise. ‘Hear that? Hollow.’ She lifted back the ivy round its legs and pointed the gun at a jagged hole where its foot should have been. ‘And see that? A perfect postbox – discretely covered by ivy, hidden from general view by the greenhouse, easily accessible through the door in the wall. Ideal for exchanging messages with visiting operatives.’
Scarily, Jana Morozova wasn’t coming across as a psycho murderer crowing about her crimes, more like a smug business executive. I didn’t care how she said it. I just wanted her to get on with it and start talking about Nan and Mum.
She cracked her icy smile again. ‘On the night of the murder I thought I had the house to myself. Clairmont was in London, you were on your way back from a photo shoot and I’d given most of the staff the night off. Just as it was getting dark I came down to the statue to leave a little package for one of our agents who’d be coming to your anniversary ball. I didn’t know that Clairmont had come home early and gone round the back way, straight to the greenhouse. I don’t think he’d ever set foot in there before but that day he’d bought you some fancy orchid and I suppose he wanted to keep it hot-housed overnight. There were no lights in the greenhouse and I didn’t see him. Unfortunately he saw me.’
You could tell that Janice – or I s’pose I should call her Jana – was enjoying every minute of this but once she finished I promised myself I’d find a way to wipe that sick smile off her face.
‘As soon as I’d gone Clairmont retrieved the package. Inside it he found some rather incriminating photographs of some very important people, the guest list for the weekend and a message written in code. He stormed into the hall and confronted me. If I hadn’t killed him on the spot he’d have compromised our whole operation.’ She glanced at me. Her eyes were empty – no feeling, no sympathy, no emotion in there at all – and I knew that’s how she must have looked at Clairmont just before she killed him.
‘How did you do it?’ I breathed.
‘I hit him with a vase then I snapped his neck, just to make sure he was dead. I’d been well trained. It was all very quick and clean.’ She saw me screw up my face. ‘It was war. All right, a cold war. But he was the enemy.’
I felt like I’d been trapped in a time warp. We’d done the Cold War in history – with proper history books full of black-and-white photos of grim-faced Russians in over-the-top uniforms, and pasty-looking Brits with moustaches and bowler hats, and here was Jana Morozova talking like it happened last week.
‘He was nobody’s enemy,’ Norma howled. ‘And when you killed him you destroyed us both. You left me with nothing! Even my memories were tainted . . .’
‘Oh, do shut up, Norma, you always were a hysteric,’ Jana said.
Norma’s slanty eyes were two dark pits of hatred. She put a hand on Nina’s shoulder and slowly heaved herself up. For a moment a flash of the feisty Norma came back. ‘Why are you here . . . what do you want?’ she demanded.
‘I’m just tidying up a few loose ends. I’ve been looking for Yuri ever since he gave my people the slip in Ukraine. When I heard you were back at Elysium I thought he might get the urge to salve his conscience and throw himself on your mercy. So Viktor got Nina here’s father to put the place under surveillance and, as you can see, my hunch paid off.’
Nina’s chin quivered, cracking the brave mask she’d been wearing all day but Jana was having far too good a time tormenting Norma to even notice.
‘What do you mean, salve his conscience?’ Norma demanded. ‘What did he have to do with any of this?’
‘Don’t you get it, Norma? Your handsome Harry, the gardener you thought was a penniless refugee, he was KGB, too. I brought him over to help with the dreary day-to-day tasks like dealing with people who got in my way.’
‘Harry!’ Norma cried. ‘Tell me it’s not true.’
His eyes were desperate and pleading. If this was the confession he’d wanted to make to Norma, no wonder he’d called it a stone on his heart.
‘KGB force me, Miss Norma, they threaten my family. But I did not hurt Lord Clairmont.’ He stabbed a finger at Jana. ‘She did that, she kill him all on her own.’
‘You buried him, though, didn’t you, Yuri? Out there in the woods,’ Jana said.
Yuri clutched his head. ‘He was good to me, he was my friend, and now every night he is there, in my dreams, covered in blood.’
‘The woods,‘ Norma sobbed, ‘Greville’s poor battered body . . . buried in the woods.’
Jana flicked a fallen leaf off her sleeve. ‘Oh, don’t worry, he made a neat job of it, didn’t you, Yuri? I made him put everything Clairmont had with him in a little tin box and bury that separately, just in case we ever needed to retrieve it. A few of his possessions turning up here and there would have been a great way to convince the world he was still alive. As it turned out, the belief that he’d gone into hiding took on a life of its own and we never needed them.’
I remembered the mud smears on Yuri’s old Oxo tin, and shuddered. But at least now I knew how he’d got hold of Clairmont’s tie-clip, keys and emeralds.
Norma turned her rage on Yuri. ‘You told the police you saw Greville put her body in his car.’
‘KGB make me say it. They make me lie to police, to everyone.’
Jana rolled her eyes. ‘To be honest, Norma, I’d been worried from the start that he’d lose his nerve but fear kept him silent for years. In fact, he didn’t mess up until … ooh, it must have been fifteen years ago. Long after the KGB was disbanded and I was doing very nicely in business. Mainly oil, but some of my less . . . official ventures were really taking off.
He was in a bar when the news came on TV – Jana Morozova, millionaire oil magnate, awarded top job in Russian energy ministry. According to my informants, he got drunk and started shooting his mouth off about me murdering Greville Clairmont. Well, I couldn’t have that. I had an international reputation to maintain. So I had him arrested. Pathetic really. I should have had him killed then and there.’
‘If only I’d known Greville was innocent,’ Norma moaned. ‘If only I’d known.’
‘I wouldn’t be telling you now if it wasn’t for some nosy journalist. What was his name, Joe? Lichfield, Lancaster? Lincoln . . . that’s right.’
I could feel Norma’s eyes staring at me bewildered but I couldn’t tear my concentration away from Jana for even a second to look at her.
‘He found out, didn’t he?’ I said. ‘He was going to write the story.’
‘That’s right, Joe. I have to say, I thought you and the Professor did rather well to work it out. Lincoln was covering a big energy summit I’m speaking at, happened to visit the KGB archive in Kiev, looked up my name and got the whole thing. My details, Yuri’s details, the names of all our agents – you wouldn’t believe the number of high-up Brits who were involved – my report on the murder and, of course, chapter and verse on the tabs we kept on you, Norma, just in case you ever started digging into darling Greville’s disappearance and got suspicious. Lincoln thought he’d got the scoop of the century, tracked Yuri down and went running off to interview him in prison. So I had to have him silenced.’
I couldn’t take it. I lunged at her, yelling, ‘And you killed my mother. Why? What did she ever do to you?’
The side of her gun sent my head tipping and whirling. My vision blurred, I heard Norma screaming, ‘Stop it, he’s just a child!’ and, in a snarling flash of white fangs, glinting eyes and flattened ears, Oz came leaping out of the bushes and sank his teeth into Jana’s ankle, holding on even when she fell back screaming and kicking, trying to shake him off. In seconds Bogdan had wrenched him away and hurled him across the garden, and I was staring down the barrel of his gun.
