Hostage to Murder (23 page)

“How long now?” he asked, dropping like a stone into his chair.

Lindsay checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Right. Gonnae get me a vodka?” he asked her.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Lindsay said.

“I need a drink, OK? It didnae do me much harm last night, did it?”

She couldn't deny that. According to Sasha, they'd been drinking vodka till well past midnight, but none of them had a hangover in spite of Tam having reportedly collapsed in a senseless heap on the floor of Sasha's living room. She signalled to the waitress and ordered a vodka, counting out the roubles to pay so they wouldn't have any delay when the time came to move.

When the drink came, Tam swallowed it in one. “Right then,” he said. “I'll wait here till I see the kids passing the end of the street. You two better head off, get into position.”

They stood up. Now the moment was upon them, Lindsay felt curiously solemn. It had to work this time. There would be no third chance. And if they failed, she'd have to deal with the fact that she had let the genie out of the bottle. She realised that, having come this far, Tam could never return empty-handed to Bernie. Impulsively, she gave him a quick hug and kissed his smooth cheek. “Good luck, big man,” she said.

He nodded, beyond words, adrenaline and alcohol flushing his pale cheeks. Rory gripped his shoulder. “We'll get it right this time.”

They walked off briskly, barely reaching the corner when Lindsay's phone rang. Sasha told her the children had left the school gates, heading in the right direction. He was going to drive straight to the far exit to wait for Tam and Jack. Dry-mouthed, Lindsay passed the message on to Rory, who nodded grimly. In silence, they entered the park and ambled across the grass to the shrubbery where Tam had hidden the previous afternoon. It ran almost to the edge of the path where Tam would attempt to escape with Jack, providing the perfect spot for them to ambush the minder.

As they took up position, a low growl of thunder grumbled in the distance and the sky seemed to darken. Lindsay looked heavenward with a look of dawning delight. “I think we're in for a thunderstorm,” she said, hardly able to believe the evidence of her senses.

“Oh, great, just what we need when we're about to go sailing,” Rory said.

“Never mind that. If it hits now, we've got the perfect diversion.”

Rory got the point and gave a low whoop of delight. “You're right!” Suddenly she started bouncing up and down, waving her arms and dancing in a little circle.

“What are you doing?” Lindsay said, bemused.

“Rain dance.” Rory grinned. “Can't hurt, can it?”

Lindsay shook her head, amused in spite of herself. She peered through a jigsaw gap in the bushes and caught sight of the children arriving in the park. Already they were running free. Today, Jack seemed to have joined the game of football, though he was
noticeably less frantic that the others in his pursuit of the ball. Another peal of thunder, this one louder than the last, caused a momentary pause in play, but they carried on instantly.

A few minutes later, she caught sight of Tam, strolling casually towards the children. “Oh, smart move,” she said softly as he took a line that would bring him to the edge of play. When the ball drifted towards him, he brought it under control and moved into the game, passing it to one of the children. He waved casually at the teacher, and carried on making his way through the players, gradually working nearer and nearer to Jack. One of the boys kicked the ball to Tam and he dribbled expertly towards his stepson. For a moment, it looked as if he would feint past him. Then at the last minute, Tam stooped low, scooped Jack into his arms and took off. As if on cue, the thunder crashed again, a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky and the heavens opened.

Rain sheeted down, adding to the confusion of noise and blurring the rush of movement. Jack was screeching like a banshee, hammering his fists against Tam's shoulder as Tam pounded across the field towards the path. Hot on his heels, the bodyguard had sprung into action, roaring something incomprehensible as he went. The cries of playing children had suddenly turned into screams of panic.

Now Tam was running faster than Lindsay would have believed possible, in spite of the struggling child in his arms. Clearly, Tam's disguise had Jack fooled as much as his minder. He was giving chase, but as her father had rightly surmised, his body was built for strength, not speed, and although he was unencumbered, he wasn't gaining ground fast enough. “I think they're going to make it,” she said. “You ready?”

Rory nodded, poised on the balls of her feet. Still peering through the bushes, Lindsay caught sight of the teacher. She was frantically gathering her pupils together, her face blanched as a turnip, her mouth still a round O of shock. Then suddenly Tam was thundering past them, his breathing ragged and painful. “Now!” Lindsay shouted.

Rory stepped into the path, closely followed by Lindsay. The bodyguard was bearing down on them. He tried to swerve at the
last minute to avoid them, but Rory kept on walking, driving him towards the grass. He thrust an arm out, pushing her out of the way, but the edge of his foot skidded on the wet grass and sent him sprawling.

He scrambled to his feet, spitting what had to be curses at Rory, and hurtled on after Tam. But the distance was too great. There was no chance he could catch them now, Lindsay thought with satisfaction. “Act nonchalant, look a bit bemused, as if it's all nothing to do with us,” she said, steadying Rory and steering her down the path in the opposite direction, taking advantage of the confusion to depart the way they'd come without a backward glance.

As soon as they had cleared the park, they picked up speed, cutting briskly down a side street to the Obvodnogo Canal. Within five minutes, the ugly concrete box of the Moskva Hotel reared up before them. There was no sign of pursuit, and they began to breathe easier as they crossed the busy intersection in front of the hotel and walked into the Metro station. Jubilation welled up inside Lindsay, but she took care to show none of it.

In silence, they rode the Metro to the end of the line then set off towards the Navy Yacht Club from a different direction. Now they were finally able to release some of their tension, laughing in pure delight as they relived the rescue, indifferent to the rain streaming down their faces. They had only walked a couple of hundred yards when Sasha's car drew up alongside. Holding her breath, Lindsay gave him a questioning look.

Sasha grinned and gave her the thumbs-up sign. “All aboard. They wait for you. All you have to do now is get the boy out of the country.”

According to Sasha, Tam had barely made it to the car ahead of the bodyguard. “I had engine running and back door open,” he said. “Tam threw the boy in and dived on top of him. Poor Jack, he was squealing like a pig, he wouldn't believe it was Tam at first. Anyway, I shot off before Tam even got the door closed. Just as well I did, because the bodyguard was close enough to hit the boot with his fist as I pulled away.”

“Did he get your number?” Lindsay had asked, worried for her
father's generous friend.

Sasha had tapped his nose with his index finger. “No matter if he did. I got plates from a scrap yard, six o'clock yesterday morning.”

They'd never have done it without Sasha, Lindsay realised. She and Rory had been so gung-ho, so convinced they could cut a swathe through whatever Russia threw at them. But they'd been hopelessly wrong. She had to wonder if back in Glasgow, even at some deep subliminal level, the reason she'd been so eager to get involved in Bernie and Jack's problem had been about impressing Rory. Or even about getting Rory on her own, in a foreign environment, in a strange light where recklessness might look like romance.

At the Navy Yacht Club, they ran through the sheeting rain to the boat. Andy, Tam and Jack were below in the steamy cabin, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. Jack barely looked up as they arrived. He was snuggled into Tam's side, talking nineteen to the dozen about his experiences. The tracks of his dried tears snaked down his cheeks, a vivid reminder of the terror he must have felt when Tam snatched him. “And when Papa went away, I was left with Zia Maria and she made me go to school, and it was horrible, and she wouldn't let me phone Mum, even though Papa promised I could,” the boy prattled on. “I hated it. I wanted to come home, but Zia Maria said I had to stay until Papa came back. It was supposed to be a holiday,” he added, self-righteous disgust in his voice.

Rory sat down on the bench seat and let out a huge sigh. “We made it.”

“So far,” Andy said cautiously. “Lindsay?” He gestured towards the cockpit with his head. “A word.”

 

“You need me,” Lindsay protested. “Nobody else can sail the boat with you. And in weather like this, you need another pair of hands.”

Andy shook his head stubbornly. “They're going to be looking for two British women. You said that yourself. While I was sitting here waiting for you, I realised it was madness to try and take you both out on the boat.”

“So I've got to stay behind? Are you sure you're not just trying to keep me and Rory apart?” Lindsay's blood was up now, the adrenaline rush of the snatch reasserting itself as anger.

“Should I be?” Andy said calmly.

“Well, Dad, you should know by now that if you want me to do something, the best way is to tell me I can't. And you should also know better than to stick your nose in my business.”

“We're a family, Lindsay. Your business is my business. You should be thinking about Sophie.”

Lindsay gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Yeah, right. Like Sophie thinks about me when she makes her decisions. Dad, you don't know the half of it. Everybody always assumes I'm the difficult one. Well, just for the record, it's not always me. OK? Now, let's get this boat under way. We're wasting time we can't afford to spare.”

“You're not coming, Lindsay. I've already spoken to Sasha. There's a train out this afternoon. We'll meet you in Helsinki. Just put your own feelings to one side for a wee minute and think about the boy's safety. We're going to have enough questions asked about why Tam looks different from his passport. Not to mention why we've got somebody extra on board.”

“OK. So you two go back alone with Jack. Rory and I will get a flight out,” Lindsay said stubbornly.

Andy shook his head. “Like I said, they're going to be looking for two British women travelling together. You need to split up.”

“So let Rory fly out and I'll stay with the boat. You really could use another pair of hands. And having an extra person on board makes more sense if it's your daughter, doesn't it?”

Andy shook his head. “We thought about that. Sasha doesn't think Rory's confident enough to handle the independent travel.”

“It's my story, Dad. Not Rory's.”

They glared at each other, impasse reached. Just then, Sasha's bulk appeared in the doorway leading down to the cabin. “Your father is right, Lindsay. I know it's hard, but you're too smart not to see he's right. One of you has to stay behind.” He glanced at his watch. “You could be on the quarter to five train to Helsinki.”

Lindsay closed her eyes and exhaled noisily. She knew when she
was beaten. The boat wasn't going anywhere while they were both on board, and they couldn't afford to let the time drift away from them if they were to make good their escape from Russian territory. She turned away and gazed across the marina to the expo centre. “Get Rory up here,” she said.

Sasha called below and moved into the cockpit to let Rory up the companionway. “What's going on?” she asked, her expression puzzled.

“The boys think we need to split up. Because the Russians will be looking for two British women, after our attempt yesterday. So one of us goes with the boat and the other gets the train to Helsinki.”

Rory looked stunned. “That's not what we planned.”

“Plans sometimes have to change,” Sasha said. “It is too dangerous to have you both on the boat.”

Rory nodded, seeing his point instantly. “OK. I'll take the train. It makes more sense for Lindsay to stay with the boat, she can help Andy.”

Andy smiled in relief. “Thanks, Rory.” He raised his eyebrows at Lindsay. “That all right with you?”

Lindsay shook her head ruefully, knowing when she was defeated. “Give me your keys, Sasha. I'll walk Rory to the car. We've got a bit of business to sort out.”

 

They said goodbye in the shelter of a dripping tree that overhung the Peugeot, clinging to each other, neither willing to admit the desperation they felt at this sudden severance. “I'm sorry it's turned out like this. But we'll have a night in Helsinki,” Lindsay murmured, nuzzling the soft skin beneath Rory's ear.

“Provided we all make it past the Russian customs.”

“We'll make it,” Lindsay said, with a confidence she was slowly beginning to feel. “And at least I'll get my copy written on the voyage without you to distract me.” She kissed Rory's mouth, trying to imprint it on her memory so she could summon it at will.

They stepped apart and Rory opened the car door. “Safe journey,” she said.

Lindsay nodded. “See you in Helsinki.”

The 32ft Bénéteau began to bounce a little on the heavy swell that was rolling in from Kronstadt towards St Petersburg. Lindsay had finished stowing her possessions and was lying back on the bunk in the forepeak cabin, trying to compose her intro and not be distracted by thoughts of Rory speeding through the streets of St Petersburg towards the Finland Station. She was interrupted by a bang on the cabin door.