Blackmailed by the beast

by Georgia Le Carre

  Badly.

  My father doesn’t understand love, but he has a gift of manipulating the love others feel. He sees inside a heart, feels its greatest vulnerability, and attacks. Yes, he took my beloved Sergei from me, but I know Sergei died with his love for me intact forever and mine for him.

  There is a soft knock on my door.

  I walk to it and open it. Rosita is standing outside. ‘Your father wants you to join him for lunch downstairs,’ she says.

  ‘Thank you, Rosita. Tell him I’ll be down in a minute,’ I say and close the door. He is home. I did not realize.

  I lean against the door, feeling so numb that I cannot even begin to figure out why my father wants me to join him for lunch. Does he want to gloat? Does he want to frighten me more? Does he just want to have lunch with me because what he did to Sergei is not a big deal?

  I straighten, open the door, and go downstairs towards the dining room. On the way I meet one of his men. He nods to me and I nod back automatically.

  I open the dining room door and my father looks up and smiles. To look at him you would never believe that he sent someone up to his own daughter’s bedroom to murder her dog so she would come home totally unsuspecting and find the slaughter. I don’t smile back. I just stare at him. Shocked that all these years I never really knew him at all.

  He puts his fork and knife down. ‘Come in, come in,’ he invites genially, still chewing his food.

  I don’t move.

  He smiles. ‘Just because it is delivered in a friendly tone do not regard my invitation as anything but a direct order.’

  I walk stiffly into the room. My right palm is itching. I hold it in my left hand and scratch it furiously.

  ‘Come closer,’ he purrs. ‘What are you afraid of?’

  I take a few more steps.

  He stands up and, bending down, takes something out of a cardboard box. To my absolute horror and disgust it is a blue Doberman puppy. My eyes bulge with shock. Surely not. The puppy is the exact age Sergei was when he gave him to me.

  My eyes move slowly up to his.

  ‘This is a present for you,’ he says, jerking it slightly in my direction.

  I stare at him dumbfounded. I thought my father was a monster, but he is not. To be a monster means you have feelings. My mother was right. My father has no feelings. He killed my beloved dog and now he is replacing it with a puppy. He can give then take it away and give it again. What a sick freak. Only a man who cannot feel love would do what he is doing. He jerks the puppy again to encourage me to take it.

  I take a step back. ‘I don’t want it,’ I say.

  He scowls. ‘If you don’t take it I’ll have to get the staff to drown it.’

  My mouth drops open and he takes a step towards me with the puppy wriggling in his outstretched hands. I put my hands out and take it from him. Its body is soft and warm and I feel the tears start to burn the backs of my eyes.

  I turn around so he will not see them and run out of the room. I stand for a moment in the grand foyer. Rosita is on her hands and knees polishing the marble steps. I walk up to her.

  The puppy makes a small sound that is not quite a bark yet. It tears at my heart. Sergei used to make that sound. It’s not its fault. It’s just an innocent little thing, but I can’t even look at it. My heart is broken. I hold it out to her.

  ‘Please can you take him and see that he is well taken care of.’

  She looks at me with a surprised, confused face, but she puts her hands out and takes the puppy from me. I wipe my hands on the sides of my dress.

  ‘Thank you, Rosita,’ I croak, and run upstairs.

  In my room I fall on my bed and sob my heart out. I don’t even hear the door open, I only feel it when Baba’s hand falls on my head and strokes my hair gently.

  ‘I hate him,’ I sob. ‘I hate him so much.’

  Baba says nothing, just hums an old Russian song she used to sing to put me to sleep when I was a child.

  Noah Abramovich

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6voHeEa3ig

  Gangster Paradise

  They were waiting for me in the shadows. The punch catches me in an area just above the ear, and in the confusion, my brain registers it merely as a thud, but in fact, it’s the kind of blow you never want to get hit with.

  It’s fucking lethal. You can't prepare, or train for it.

  It’s where the expression ‘knocked senseless’ originates from. I’ve been clipped like this once during training while I was preparing myself with the worst case scenarios, so I know how this shit goes down.

  Seconds later, it scrambles my senses. My eyes blur, the world starts spinning, and I lose control of my legs as they turn to jelly. I'm going down and all that matters now is how hard. Fall on my head and everything could go dark and silent. Maybe even forever.

  ‘Fuck,’ I yell, as I try to position my hands out in front of me to cushion the fall.

  I'd always imagined my end would be bloody. You live by the sword you die by the damn thing. It’s the unwritten rule and it’s fair. It should be that way. Even time spent in prison doesn’t change anything, they are only pauses, before this gory and fitting finale. A bullet in the head, a knife in the gut in a dark alleyway.

  Yeah, I see it now, not parking in the gym’s car park was a really bad idea. Careless. Careless. Zane was right. While you’re finding the gentleman’s way of taking care of the solution, he’ll just fucking send someone around to snuff you out.

  Then a sane voice in my head. Get a grip Noah, if they wanted you dead, you'd already be! You’re still breathing.

  ‘Fucking put that piece away. What are you, fucking stupid? Get your fucking knife out you pussy, and slice him up good. Boss said, make mincemeat out of his face. And hurry the fuck up about it,’ I hear a man’s voice spit with disgust.

  So that's their fucking game. A message from the father of the bride: mess with my daughter and I’ll leave you clinging to life and marked forever, unable to walk amongst normal people. You can’t argue with the strategy. It has the added benefit of being a good way to cool down a girl’s ardor too.

  I hear the sound of a knife blade swish open. It is like an electric shock to my brain. It makes me focus and gets my head together. They're all fucking tooled up, but I’ll kill these fuckers before I accept anyone telling me who I can and can’t have as my woman.

  Before I breathe my last I’ll be sure to pay a less than friendly visit to that filthy pervert her father has chosen for her. Just thinking of it is enough to get the adrenaline to break through the fog in my brain, and race around my body again. There’s three of them.

  I can take them.

  As my eyes begin to clear, I spy two trouser legs approaching, a thick hand grasping a sliver of cold steel. I don’t let my gaze go further up.

  Get up Noah, get the fuck up now.

  ‘Ready for a bit of free plastic surgery, lover boy?’ he taunts.

  I gather up every bit of power inside me and thrust all my weight behind a powerful kick aimed straight at his shin bone, at that weak point just under the knee. Shame I’m not wearing my heavy boots, but even so I hear the crack of bone as it tears through flesh. It’s beautiful music to me. He falls to the ground screaming like a girl.

  One down.

  I spring to my feet, just as I am confronted by two large soldiers rushing towards me. One is built like a brick shithouse, the other is tall, lean, and mean. A scar running right across his neck. Their features make me think they’re probably from Chechnya. Tough, ruthless men.

  Fuck them.

  Fuck you, Nikita.

  Every nerve ending in my body feels alive and on fire as I dodge the tall guy’s knife by ducking below his blow. As it whizzes by, I land a hard body punch to his solar plexus. It sends him flying to the ground, crippled, breathless, and in agony.

  The ruthless killer in me takes over.

  I yank his blade from his hand, step behind his arched body, and with neither thought nor me
rcy, pull his head back and finish the job some other man had started. I put the tip of the blade to the bottom of his ear and open him ear to ear. Hot blood flows down my hands. He makes wet gurgling sounds, gasps uselessly for air, then slumps.

  Two down. I let him drop out of my hands. He lands with a thud.

  One more to go, but he’s the boss. He’s the one I have to watch out for.

  Before I can turn around he attacks, and lands a hard blow to my ribs. It winds me temporarily, and leaves me gasping for air. Another man would have gone down, but not me. I summon every last bit of strength I have and straighten as he comes at me again. He is like a mountain, but I have agility on my side. I sidestep his lunge and catch him full in the face with my elbow, smashing his nose to a bloody pulp.

  His hands instinctively shoot up to cover his face, but before he has time to gather his senses, I grab his right wrist with both hands and smash my knee into his groin. With a near-soundless grunt of white hot pain, he stumbles and collapses to the ground cupping his junk. In a flash, I fall on his body and straddle him.

  He realizes his mistake and starts struggling, his arms flailing, trying to hit at anything. He is no match for my force of momentum as I plunge the knife he dropped deep into his chest. His eyes widen and he makes a muffled, slow choking sound. Blood bubbles in his mouth and runs out of the side. I sit on him, panting hard, and watch the light die out of his eyes. I thought I’d never have to see the life go out of another man at my hands, but Tasha is worth it. I’d kill hundreds more like him for her.

  I turn my head slowly and glance at the man with the broken tibia. He is still lying on the ground, white bone jutting through flesh, and staring at me with bulging eyes. Quickly, I rifle the pockets of the dead man underneath me, locate and retrieve his mobile phone. I scroll down to the last number and, sucking air in my lungs, walk over to where the first man is lying, looking at me with a mixture of hate and fear.

  I thrust the mobile into his face. ‘Call your boss.’

  He looks at me without blinking.

  ‘Call him or join your friends in hell.’

  He looks around at his dead mates’ blood-soaked bodies, weighs up the situation, and grimaces. ‘You might as well kill me. I’m as good as dead if I call him anyway.’ I underestimated him. He’s a good judge of character. He’d rather take his chances with me than Nikita.

  I press the button and hold the phone to my ear.

  ‘What?’ Tasha’s father barks.

  ‘Nikita, you’re losing your touch.’

  There is a pause, then he speaks. His voice is deliberately pleasant and unruffled even though I know he must be fucking furious. ‘Well, well, I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice, Noah.’

  ‘You must be getting old, Nikita, sending boys to do a man’s work.’

  ‘Listen you little upstart low life. Come near my daughter again and I'll fucking kill you myself.’

  The idea of Nikita killing me makes me laugh. As if he’s ever done his own wet work.

  ‘Let’s see how you laugh when your mouth is full of concrete.’

  ‘Well, if I were you I’d stop with the weird fantasies, and deal with the more pressing scenario you’ve got going on here. It might be a good idea to get your garbage disposal people over, like pronto, before the cops are all over it.’

  I hear his brain turning over.

  ‘You should pray that I don’t turn up dead, even by accident. Because the cops will be getting a USB stick detailing the exact money trail of that drug deal gone wrong. Remember Hammurabi?’

  He doesn’t say anything but I can feel his shock. Zane and I got a copy ages ago, and we just kept it for insurance purposes. You never know when you need these things.

  ‘I’ll be seeing you real soon, Nikita.’ I say, and hang up.

  I turn my attention back to the man on the ground.

  ‘Please, please don’t kill me,’ he begs. ‘It’s not personal. We had orders. I’m sorry.’

  Yeah, sure he's sorry. He’s playing me for a chump. He's sorry I'm standing over him, he’s sorry his friends can’t help him, and he’s sorry his busted leg means he can't run away.

  I feel my adrenaline stop pumping as I stand above him, knife in hand. He eyes me fearfully and curls up like a child, sniveling, begging for mercy. Acting!

  ‘You’re a soldier, you knew the risks,’ I tell him.

  I squeeze the handle. I can’t kill a wounded, helpless man in cold blood. Anyway, he is more valuable alive than dead.

  ‘I’ll let you live so you can pass a message on to your boss.’

  He nods violently.

  ‘Tell him Tasha Evanoff belongs to me, and I will kill every man that is sent to come between us.’

  I reach down with one hand and grab him by his trembling neck. With my other hand I draw my blade slowly and purposefully along his cheek, from ear to mouth. As the blade tears his flesh he howls out an awful scream. It ricochets through the emptiness of the alleyway. When I am done I let him sink to the ground by my feet.

  ‘Remember,’ I snarl. ‘If I ever see you again. I will kill you.’

  I step away from him, remove a handkerchief from my jacket, and wipe the handle and blade clean of my fingerprints. That’s when I see the bright crimson stain that is spreading over my ribs and down to my abdomen.

  I wasn’t fast enough. I’ve been stabbed, and it looks pretty fucking bad. I chuck the knife to the ground and try to walk, but my legs feel like they don’t belong to me. I feel breathless after just a few steps. The adrenaline and fear kept me from feeling the pain before, but now it hurts like hell. Wincing, I lurch forward.

  I just need to reach my car.

  I’ll call Zane. I push my hand into my jacket pocket to pull out my phone, and shit, fuck, my hand won’t obey the commands of my brain. I don’t want to be here when Nikita’s men turn up. Life won’t be worth living. Now what the fuck do I do? Taking in a deep breath that feels like I’ve swallowed fire, I grab onto the wall and try to pull myself along, but the life is quickly draining from my body.

  Twenty more steps, Noah.

  You can do it.

  Come on.

  I think of Tasha and her warm sweet smile. I want to live. I need to live. Fuck, I'm not going to make …

  Come on, Noah.

  In my mind the sky is blue, the sun is shining, the ocean under Tasha and me is turquoise. ‘Look, Noah. We’re flying,’ she cries.

  Unable to stand upright any longer, I fold to the ground. I stare at the night sky. The stars above look so beautiful. Everything is still. Babushka’s face is looking down at me. She is calling me. Then I hear footsteps. Getting closer, louder.

  A face floats above me. Blue eyes. The bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. It is one of the saints or angels Babushka prays to. He has come to take me to her.

  Oh, Tasha. I don’t want to leave, not yet, I had so many dreams for us, but I can’t stay. They’ve come for me.

  I love you …

  Tasha Evanoff

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwtdhWltSIg

  Losing My Religion

  The next day I call Noah’s phone numerous times, but it is switched off all day and all night. I try not to worry. His battery died. He lost his phone. But my heart knows it is not that. He would never switch his phone off. Not at a time like this.

  I call his club, The Matrix, put on an American accent, and pretend that I am Dahlia, Alexander Malenkov’s wife. I ask to speak to Noah, but the manager tells me nobody has heard from him since last night. He hasn’t called any of his other businesses which is very weird.

  ‘I’ll get him to call you as soon as he calls in,’ he says.

  ‘No. No need,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll call him tomorrow.’

  I sit on my bed and think. I think of all the possibilities that are open to me. Then I lay my plans meticulously. I play with a best case scenario and a worst case. I make a list of every move I plan to make, then I make a list of everything that can go wrong on
every single move. Then I think up things that can go wrong outside of my actions.

  At eight I go down to dinner and act normal. After dinner I go up to Baba’s room and I tell her what I want to do. Step by step. She doesn’t say a word. When I finish talking she puts her hand gently on my head. I know it is her way of giving me her blessing. I take her hand in my own and, bringing it to my lips, kiss it.

  Later, when the household goes to sleep, Baba comes to my room and I slip out of the house and climb the wall. I tell the cab driver to take me to Noah’s house. As we drive up to the road I see it in complete darkness. I don’t react. It is something I have already planned for. My whole body feels cold. I don’t think about what has happened to him. If I do, I will just want to give up and die too.

  The car comes to a stop. The driver turns to look at me.

  My stomach is in knots. ‘I’ve changed my mind. Take me to Rusaki.’

  Rusaki is Dimitri Semenov’s club. It is a Russian stripper club located in the underbelly of the city.

  This is it now, Tasha. There's no going back.

  I know I have to see it through to the very end. I turn my attention to the night traffic whizzing by until the cab driver pulls up outside its gaudy red and gold awning.

  ‘We’re here my love,’ the taxi driver says.

  I feel my heartbeat rise a notch as I take a deep breath and step out of the car. I pass the driver his money and thank him. Gathering my coat tightly around myself in an unconsciously defensive gesture, I turn around to face the club’s neon lights. As I walk up to it, I realize what I am doing. I let go. Tilting my chin and letting my hands swing confidently, I go up to the entrance. There are three bouncers in black suits watching me approach with various expressions, leering, admiring, and expressionless.

  I’m met by the large outstretched palm of the expressionless one. ‘Dancers to the side door,’ he says in a strong Russian accent, jerking his head towards a grey side door.

  Beside me an obviously wealthy Russian man in a camel hair coat and an icy blonde on each arm is respectfully ushered in.