by SR Jones
“You can come with us,” Bohdan says to her, barely sparing her a moment’s glance. “I highly suggest you do because I doubt you’re safe here. Or you can choose to stay. Up to you. I’ll book three tickets to Athens for as soon as possible, and Dasha can send you a message with the flight times and where to meet us. I suggest you go and pack and be sensible about this, but if not, then I wouldn’t trust this piece of shit.” He throws Jasper away from him, turns on his heel, and walks calmly past my mother and out of the room.
“What about my dog and the cats?” I ask Bohdan.
He turns to Jasper and says, “Harm a hair on their heads, and you’re dead.” Then to me he adds, “We can take Mr. Bojangles with us. I’ll see if I can get it sorted. I’ll organize for someone to pick the cats up and foster them until we’re able to get them to wherever you’re going, Dasha.”
I turn to Jasper who is still panting and red, and I smile. “Leave, please; I would like to pack.”
“You’re going to pay,” he whispers.
Then he’s gone, and I’m weirdly calm. Oddly so. I’ll have to let my understudy take over the lead role in Swan Lake, and even that doesn’t upset me. I’ll call tomorrow and tell Madame I have an injury. Peacefully, I pack and something strange takes flight in me. It’s a kernel of something I’ve not felt before.
Freedom.
Chapter Twenty
Vasily
London
I miss my friends. Thinking it makes me sound pathetic, but it’s the truth. I’ve just called Bohdan to talk, but he is up to his neck in this woman he’s obsessed with. The ballerina. Not only have all my friends fucked off out of the game, but they’ve all fallen for women too.
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. I ought to be in Moscow, but instead I’m back at Bridge Tech. Outwardly, my reason is that I want to hire a couple of the IT guys to come work for me. I need people who know how to get into other folks’ business. It’s nothing that K wasn’t going to do. Deep down, though, I know that’s not the reason I’m here.
Ever since I got shot when everything went wrong for Konstantin, my ex-Pakhan, I’ve been reevaluating. Nothing on the scale of what Konstantin has done because, frankly, in my opinion, that fucker has lost the plot. He’s left the Bratva life behind and all his underworld business assets, and that’s just fucked. Luckily, he’s left it to me.
The object of my interest and the real reason I’m here walks across the courtyard as she does every day, from what I’ve seen, and hugs that damn tree. I’m skulking in a corner, smoking. I’ve managed to get down to one cigarette a day now. I don’t think Zoey has seen me, but then again if she does, she pretends she hasn’t. I’m intrigued by the girl. I want to fuck her, perhaps more than I’ve wanted to fuck a woman in a long time. She’s a mix of hard and soft, which intrigues me. Her beauty is undeniable, but edgy too. Her style is hot. She’s wearing biker boots with studs on them, black skintight jeans, and a black The Strokes tour t-shirt. Her hair is down, and her makeup is dramatic as usual.
I don’t only want to fuck dear Zoey, though; I’m intrigued by her. I’ve got the oddest instinctive feeling about the woman. Something is off about her, and I don’t know quite what it is, but I’m determined to find out. Every time I see her out here, she hugs that tree, and she’s so sad. Deeply, soul-destroying levels of sad. I see it in her big eyes, and I think Zoey has lost something so precious it has blown a hole in her. The other intriguing thing about her is her awareness of the environment. If you watch her for a long period of time, the way I do, you notice it. I’ve only seen that awareness in a few other people; namely Andrius, Konstantin, and the British Special Forces guys.
It got me wondering if Zoey had served, which got me digging. What I found raised my suspicions. There’s something too perfect about her story and her background. Call me paranoid, and I am, but I’ve got Damen looking into her. It’s a sixth sense I have about people sometimes, and with Zoey, that sixth sense is ringing all my alarm bells.
I have wondered whether to tell K, but tell him what? That I’ve been skulking around his legit businesses despite clear orders not to? That I’ve been obsessing over Zoey despite him telling me numerous times to leave her alone? That I have a hunch? A stupid hunch probably, and one that nothing I’ve found in my investigations so far backs up? No, I need evidence if I’m going to go to him with this.
She gets up from the bench where she’s been sitting in the weak late-afternoon sun and walks toward me. I put my cigarette out and step out from the shadows right in front of her. As I thought, she doesn’t flinch or jump. No, she knew I was there all along. Zoey watches her environment.
“Hi,” I say.
She smiles at me.
“Listen, I don’t do this often, but do you want to get a drink later this week, before I head back to Moscow?”
I’m expecting her to say no, so it surprises me when she nods with a fleeting smile. “Sure. That would be nice.”
Oh, I don’t want to be nice. I’d like to do very bad things to Zoey and have ever since I first saw her in this damn courtyard. This is, however, also about getting to know some more about her. Damen is looking, but so far he hasn't found anything. I might just simply be paranoid, but last week Zoey went to Corfu for a few days to meet with Konstantin and an old friend of his called Maxim, a talented artist.
K thinks Zoey and Maxim can make a breakthrough on a project that is struggling to take off, and they spent a few days in the sun being all creative and shit. I want to know if she’s someone we should be wary of.
If Damen finds anything, K will be the first to know. I also don’t know how well K would take me sniffing around his legit business, and his legit employees, but I don’t want to have to stop sniffing around Zoey.
I like the way she smells.
**
Zoey - London
Why did I say yes to Vasily? I’m already playing a supremely dangerous game and then I go and say yes to an invite for drinks, which most definitely means sex to someone like Vasily.
It’s not as if I’ve been asked to keep tabs on Vasily. He’s nothing to me, or it seems to the people I work for. Work for being a loose description of the whole fucked-up situation.
Konstantin was someone to those mysterious men who control my damn life. They told me to sleep with him and to get close. When that didn’t work and he offered me a job instead, they seemed to accept that. When I was, invited to Corfu they were pleased, but it makes no sense to me. Konstantin is out of the game now. He’s found love with Cassie, and she seems like a lovely girl. They’re in Corfu far away from the cut and thrust. What they are building there seems totally legitimate, and I don’t understand why the Order is still interested in him. Why not Vasily who seems to have taken on Konstantin’s mantle of underworld boss readily and successfully?
If they asked me to screw Vasily, at least I’d get some pleasure from all this subterfuge. He’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in years. Not pretty like Bohdan, and not as big as Konstantin, Vasily is packed with lean, strong muscle, covered in ink, and all hard edges and striking blue/green eyes. He’s a bad boy alright, down to his very marrow, and I love a bad boy. Don’t get me wrong, Konstantin is utterly terrifying, and bad, bad, bad, but he never did it for me. Sleeping with him would have been nothing more than a means to an end. Sleeping with Vasily would be mixing business and pleasure.
Trouble is, I’ve grown to quite like Konstantin, and so I hate spying on him. He’s seen my talent, and the minute he did, he didn’t want to sleep with me. He has morals. Yes, he’s a mob boss, or rather ex-mob boss, but the man definitely has morals. Yet, despite him walking away from it all, still the Order wants me to spy on him. Why?
I sigh and pick at my trousers. How did I get into this mess? I’m utterly terrified. I know there can’t be anything good to come of the way the Order reacted to my Corfu invite. I don’t want to have to harm Konstantin.
I think the reason I like Konstantin is because he saw my t
alent, which is my true calling, and loved my art. Recognized it and what it is trying to convey, which means he recognized me. My art is the only authentic thing about the Zoey I am now, other than my first name, and he liked it.
The few days I spent on Corfu were lovely, and I was treated more like a friend than a guest. I didn’t stay on the property Andrius owns, but I did spend an afternoon there around the pool. There were armed men, and I noted how many for the Order; of course, I counted Konstantin and Andrius who are both weapons in and of themselves. Andrius in particular. That man puts the fear of God into me.
Andrius is cold, clinical, and he sees a lot.
So does Vasily, I think.
Konstantin, he’s more … bullish. He scares me less in some ways because if you crossed him, he’d go for you, but he’s too busy getting things done to analyze everything. Not Andrius. His ghostly eyes are always watching. He doesn’t miss a damn thing.
I don’t think Vasily misses much either. If I have sex with Vasily, it will make me even less secure in this crazy world I’ve found myself plunged into. Then again, it might help with my plan.
My plan is to betray the Order and tell Konstantin I’ve been spying on him, beg his forgiveness, and ask for his help. It’s a shitty plan, but I have no other choice. I don’t think the Order will ever let me go. They have said they will before and then always find something new for me to do.
As if to prove my point, my phone buzzes, and I glance down to see the text I’ve been dreading.
7pm The Royal Victoria. Room 245.
Damn.
That evening at 7pm I’m dressed for drinks, and sex, but approaching a hotel room where neither will happen. I rap on the door once, and it opens immediately. Hazel brown eyes regard me coolly. Number Two.
He’s my least favorite. The others, Number One and Number Three are sitting in chairs, sipping at glasses of water.
Number One points to the chair opposite his and pushes it out with his foot for me to sit in. I do as he indicates.
“How did Corfu go?” he asks.
I sigh and shrug. “It went well, but I didn’t get to spend much time on the property with them all.”
“What did you see when you did?” Number Two demands.
“It looks like what Konstantin said it was, which you already know, from my report. It’s a legitimate business, one they’re building with UK based Special Forces personnel. They are heavily armed and will be training men in ultra-close protection.”
“If you needed to get close to Konstantin, could you?”
I snort-laugh. “Erm, no. Close how? He’s in love with Cassie, so not in that way. And if you mean close to spy on, I doubt they’ll be inviting me up daily. It’s Andrius’ property, and he’s paranoid.”
“And Konstantin isn’t?” Number One asks.
“He is, but it’s as if he’s … he’s let his guard down a bit, I suppose. I think it’s being in love, being out in the sun. Being happy maybe for the first time, and that’s pure conjecture on my part.”
“Did you spend any other time with them?”
“We went to the beach.”
Number Two leans forward, a predator on alert. “Who went?”
“Myself, Cassie, Konstantin, an armed guard, and Konstantin’s friend, Maxim.”
“Did Maxim stay at the house?”
“No. He stayed in a villa in the same village as their house, with me. Two doors down there were a ton of armed men who work for Andrius, and then on Andrius’ actual property you have the armed guards they are using that day. Plus, Konstantin and Andrius are both armed. Bohdan too, when he’s there he’s armed, but he was leaving to go to Paris for a while. I think Andrius has other armed help. I’ve seen distinctly weapon-like bulges on the maids under their uniforms.”
“Christ, he is paranoid,” Number Two mumbles. “Armed fucking maids?”
“I’ve had an invite to go for a drink with Vasily,” I tell them. “Should I stand him up? I thought I’d say yes in case you wanted me to?”
They’ll know I went anyway. They monitor my phone, see where I am always. They probably spy on me too. Who knows what they do or how deep their tentacles are?
“Go, but he’s not really of interest now. That may change. So any information you can get on him will be good.”
“I don’t get why?” I blurt out. “He’s the one in charge now. Konstantin really does appear to have washed his hands of things.”
In the past, they’ve always had me spy and report on men of wealth and power who use that wealth and power for nefarious purposes. I got involved when I was recruited to this shadowy organization from the Army. When I realized they weren’t British Intelligence as I had been led to believe, I tried to leave, but they used the best and most effective blackmail one can against a mother. My child.
I sag in my chair, so sick of this.
“You promised me. You said if I wormed my way into Konstantin’s life, it would be the last job, and after that I would be free. That Esme would be free.”
Esme. I think of her. Named after her grandmother, who I lost when I was only young myself. Long brown hair and big brown eyes. She looks like her father. I lost him too. He got blown up in Iraq. I have no one. Nothing. Only my daughter.
These bastards know that, and they use it against me at every turn.
“You failed, though, didn’t you?” Number Two asks, all reasonable.
I hate him. I want him dead.
Would Vasily help me if I asked him? Would Konstantin? Would they take me in and give me shelter and hunt these shadowy men down? Find out who they are working for? I used to think, at first, these men were a secretive part of the British State; now I know they most certainly are not.
“I might have failed to screw him, but I got to work for him, and I got to visit his home in Corfu. I’ve given you all the information I can on the man.”
“Is his partner friendly with you?” Number One asks.
I shrug. “We get on okay, but I don’t really know her.”
“Change that. If you go back again, get to know her. Become her new best friend. She’s probably missing her girlfriends out there. Get to know her and get invited to the beach again. It sounds like they are relaxed there.”
I laugh in disbelief. “You want me to do what at the beach? What the hell are you hinting at? I don’t call it relaxed. With an armed guard and Konstantin armed?”
“Does he swim?” Number Two asks.
I nod. “Yes, but he takes his gun in with him, in a plastic bag. Don’t forget he’s Spetsnaz.” I shake my head. “He’s not an ordinary Joe or a street guy.”
“Oh, we know what he is.” Number Two smiles sadistically.
“Can I see her?” I ask, hating myself for showing this weakness. I let them use my one weakness against me. I should walk away, but then I have no doubt they’d harm her. This way, she gets a fighting chance. If I die doing this, which seems highly likely with the way things are heading, at least Esme gets to live.
Number Three opens his briefcase and takes out an iPad. He opens it, puts it on the desk, and messes around for a moment. I hear her voice before I see her. My baby.
She’s seven now.
Her uniform is pretty. I wish they’d tell me which school it is they have her at now. I’ve seen her in three different uniforms to date. I’ve looked them up, but found nothing. None of them have anything distinctive like a school coat of arms by which to go on.
She’s playing, squatting down, looking at something on the ground.
A shadow looms over her, and a horribly familiar voice says, “Don’t touch that, Esme. It’s poisonous.”
Number Two. He’s with her in this video. Oh God.
I cover my mouth because I feel like I’m going to throw up.
He hunkers down and smiles at her. She smiles back, and it’s fond. She knows him.
“Don’t touch that,” he says again. “It’s a brown tail caterpillar, and it’s toxic.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
He smiles at her, and it’s gentle. Nice. Oh my God, who is this man? I don’t for a moment believe the pleasant mask he’s wearing for my daughter, but the fact he can do it so convincingly makes him even more dangerous than I first feared.
“It’s dangerous. See those hairs?”
She peers close at the caterpillar and nods.
“They can stick in you and hurt you.” Then he looks right at the camera. “Sometimes the most beautiful things can be unexpectedly deadly.”
He reaches out and pats her hair.
I’m covered in a cold sweat.
“We tell you when you’re done,” Number Two says. “And you will be. Very soon. We have one last job for you, and then you’re finished.”
“You’ve said that before.” I don’t believe him.
Number One takes the iPad and brings up a new screen. It’s a picture of my aunt. The only other family I have left apart from Esme. She’s a kind woman, from what little I remember of her, and she lives on a farm. My uncle was a funny, laid back man, and I used to like visiting them with Mum when I was little.
Why are they showing her to me?
“When you’ve done this last job, a million pounds will be wired to your aunt, and Esme will be sent to stay with her. You’ll be declared officially dead.”
What?
No, no, no. Doing this was always about Esme and I being able to lead a life together.
He smiles at me, and it holds what looks like real pity. “There’ll be no coming back for you after what we need you to do, and you’ll need to go into hiding. Your daughter will be safe with her great aunt. She can have a good life.”
These men aren’t amateurs. They are powerful enough that they knew everything about me when they first recruited me, and they are powerful enough to run whole schools it seems where they keep the children of their forced workers. Because I am forced. I don’t do any of this willingly. In the past, they threatened to sell my daughter to human traffickers if I didn’t do what they instructed. Number Two would; I have no doubt of that at all.
