Terror's Reach (5 page)

'We’re here for the viewing,’ Liam said, taking a step forward.
'What?’
'We arranged it with the agents, Taplin Ward.’
'You must be mistaken. I’m from Taplin Ward, and I don’t recall—’

'They told us you’d meet us at the house.’
'But they don’t know I’m—’

Thank you, Liam thought, and he punched the man in the throat.

Seven

Joe followed Cassie across the driveway, her flip-flops slapping against
her heels with a sound like insistent wet kisses. She branched towards
the playroom, where the electronic thwock of a virtual tennis ball
was accompanied by a cry of victory. Jaden was a demon on the Wii,
regularly defeating Joe not just at tennis but at bowling and even
boxing.
Joe continued on to the kitchen. It was divided into two distinct
spaces. The rear section was about twenty feet square, as sterile as an
operating theatre with its white ceramic floors, Poggenpohl units and
Corian worktops. A step led up to the front half, where a breakfast
table and a couple of easy chairs looked out over the terraced gardens
and the grand sweep of the bay.
While he’d been working out front, a sleek motor yacht had appeared
and was sitting at anchor just inside the deep-water channel. On the
bridge, a crew member in white raised a pair of binoculars and seemed
to focus in their direction.
Yuri Deszniak paid it no attention. He was sitting at the table, a
pair of mobile phones set before him like cutlery. In one fist he
clutched a glass of cognac, and with the other he lifted a cigar to his
mouth and took a long, appreciative suck. The maid, Maria Vargas,
had just delivered a pot of coffee. In place of thanks, Yuri flapped an
impatient hand towards the wall of glass. He required ventilation.
Sniffing disdainfully, Maria turned away. She was a short, squarish
woman in her fifties, wearing a plain grey dress and a white apron.
Still oblivious of Joe’s presence, Yuri watched her stretch up on tiptoe
to open one of the high windows.
You have a big ass, woman. Did I tell you that before?’
Maria made a small gesture, acknowledging that she had heard but
didn’t necessarily agree. She knew not to take Yuri too seriously, but
nevertheless she still feared him.
'I ask myself, is there a man alive who would fuck you, eh?’
Joe snorted. 'That’s rich, coming from an ugly bastard like you.’
Yuri spun round, glowering as he saw who was speaking. Maria
scurried past, briefly making eye contact with Joe. She was smiling.
'Another thing,’ said Joe. 'Next time you want to speak to me, come
and get me yourself. Cassie’s not here to run errands for you. She’s
your boss’s wife.’
Yuri’s bark of laughter told Joe exactly what he was thinking. The
marriage was a mistake, easily rectified.
'I answer to Valentin. Nobody else. Not her,’ he growled, stabbing
a finger at Joe, 'and not you.’
'That’s crap.’ Joe felt his heart beating faster again. So much for self
control. 'It’s time you started showing her a bit more respect.’
Yuri looked amused. 'Or. . . ?’
Joe held his gaze. He was aware of Maria retreating to the depths
of the kitchen.
'Or face the consequences,’ he said.
You would fight me?’
Angela’s advice came back to him. Accept that it’s part of who you
are.
You bet I would,’ said Joe. 'I’d kick your arse right into next week,
and I’d enjoy every minute of it.’

With the element of surprise, a punch in the throat can be just as
effective as any weapon. The estate agent keeled over and landed
heavily, his head thumping against the solid oak floor. His eyes shut
and for a few long seconds he didn’t move.
Maybe he’s dead, thought Liam, surprised by how calm he felt.
He and Priya entered the house and closed the door behind them. He
listened for signs of inhabitation, but the building felt empty.
The estate agent’s eyes opened and his body started thrashing, his
hands clawing at his throat. He let out a long, strangled noise.
'He’s suffocating,’ Priya said. 'He can’t breathe.’
'He can breathe. He’s just forgotten how, because he’s panicking.’
Liam gave the man a kick in his lower back. The estate agent
twisted away. His frantic gurgling subsided and he took a couple of
big gulping breaths, like a baby after a tantrum.
'I suppose he looks like an estate agent,’ Priya said. 'That shirt is appalling.’
'It was an educated guess. But I think he’s
AWOL
.’ Liam crouched
down, tugging the man’s arm to get his attention. 'What are you doing
here?’
The man coughed first, then said, 'None of your business. Who
the hell are you, anyway?’
Liam grabbed him by his hair and slammed his head on the floor.
The impact reverberated around the cavernous hall. Liam’s hand came
away sticky with hair gel. The man groaned and shifted a few inches,
leaving a smear of blood on the floor.
'I have to get back. I’m due in a meeting at six.’
'Six o’clock on a Friday? I don’t think so.’
A shameless flicker of acknowledgement from the estate agent. His
was a career where exaggeration came as naturally as smiling: getting
caught out was merely an occupational hazard.
'In a bar,’ he conceded. 'We all get together every Friday.’
'Not today, you won’t,’ Liam said. You still haven’t explained what
you’re doing here.’
The estate agent swallowed. “I’m meeting someone.’
'Who?’
'A woman.’
Liam glanced at Priya, indicating the house. 'I suppose you can’t
blame him. A place like this standing empty and he has the keys. It’s
got to beat the back seat of his car.’
'My car!’ The man groped inside his pocket, brought out a set of
keys. 'Take the Megane. I promise I won’t tell anyone.’
Liam feigned interest in the proposal. 'Company car, is it?’
'Well . . . yeah, but—’
You know, I’m stunned by your generosity. Offering me a car you
don’t own, while you shag someone in a house you don’t own.’ He
laughed. 'What about the woman? I bet she’s not yours, either.’
The estate agent stared at him, uncertain how to reply.
'Of course she’s not,’ Liam answered for him. You worthless piece
of shit. I don’t want the car.’
The man went to put his keys back in his pocket, but Liam snatched
them from his hand. He turned to Priya.
'But we do need to get it in the garage before his lady friend arrives.
Bring the van in as well.’
'What if someone sees me . . .’
'I’ve got to watch Mr Slick here.’
'Please,’ the estate agent blurted. 'Tell me what you want.’
'Shut up.’
'If it’s something in the house, just let me go. I swear I won’t say
a word.’
'I told you to shut up!’ Liam shouted.
Priya waited for him to face her, and said, 'I can deal with him.’
Liam was doubtful. He’d argued against her late inclusion in the
team, and he still wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing here. All he
knew was that she’d been some kind of science prodigy who’d gone off
the rails and ended up in rehab, where a former client of Liam’s had
trawled her up. Not difficult to see what had attracted his interest, but
it hardly qualified her to guard a frightened and desperate hostage.
I don’t know if that’s wise,’ he said.
'Better than someone spotting me and wondering what I’m doing
in a builder’s van,’ Priya said. 'Go on. I can handle it.’
But Liam had spotted a glimmer of hope in the estate agent’s eyes.
He kicked him in the side, hard enough to crack some ribs. The man
screamed and rolled away. His hand fluttered above the injury: too
painful to touch. Tears dribbled down his cheeks.
'Try anything’, Liam said, 'and I’ll take a penalty kick with your
skull. Understand?’
He got only a whimper in response. Priya looked on, her arms folded.
She wore a grim expression, as though she disapproved of his methods.
You’ll see a lot worse than this before we’re done, he thought.

There was a tense silence in the kitchen. Then Yuri turned away.
He lifted the coffee pot and poured quickly, slopping some on the
table.
'If you would fight me for her, maybe you want to fuck her?’ He
nodded towards the ceiling. 'Maybe I tell Valentin how you feel?’
Joe didn’t rise to the bait. He and Yuri had formed a mutual enmity
from the beginning. It might have deterred Joe from taking the job,
if not for the fact that Yuri was rarely on the island. He was Valentin’s
personal bodyguard, and Nasenko spent at least two weeks of every
month attending to his various business interests around the world.
The rest of the time was divided between the Reach and his apartment
in Belgravia.
Yuri was in his mid-forties, a short burly man with thick black hair
and dark eyes. His features were large and unprepossessing, and his
skin had the look and texture of old dough. One side of his neck was
disfigured with scar tissue where someone had once thrown battery
acid over him. Legend had it that he had ignored the burns until he’d
disarmed his attackers and killed them both with his bare hands.
The Ukrainian said nothing as he spooned three sugars into his
coffee. Finally he picked up his cigar from the side plate he was using
as an ashtray. He inhaled, then jabbed the cigar at Joe.
'Clean up and get ready. You take Cassie to Brighton in thirty
minutes.’
'I thought we were leaving at six.’
'Not any more. There is something to collect at Merrion’s.’
Joe glanced at his watch. 'We’ll be cutting it fine. What time do
they close?’
'Don’t worry about that. Just do it. And say nothing to her.’ Yuri
bared his teeth, but it couldn’t have been called a smile. 'Valentin
has arranged a surprise.’
'Okay. What’s the real reason for going early?’
Yuri glared at him. 'His visitor arrives soon. He wants no distractions.’
'Must be an important meeting.’ When Yuri showed no sign of
responding, Joe indicated the yacht, sitting squarely in their field of
vision. 'Is that anything to do with it?’
'This is not your concern.’
Joe kept his voice level. 'If Valentin wants to change the plan, I’d
expect him to tell me in person. How do I know I’m not just running
some silly errand for you?’
'He is busy. He tells me, and now I tell you. And for Valentin, you
are here to fetch, to carry, to be good little worker and keep your fucking mouth shut.’
Joe clenched his fists. A glint in Yuri’s eye suggested he would relish
a fight, and yet he didn’t seem overly disappointed when Joe forced
himself to relax.
'We’re going to have a talk about this tomorrow,’ said Joe quietly.
'Get a few things straight.’
Yuri threw back his head and laughed. 'Tomorrow? Very good. See
how I tremble with fear!’ He motioned towards the door. 'Now go.
Go before you make me angry.’
Reluctantly, Joe turned away. He knew he shouldn’t let Yuri rile
him, nor should he keep trying to fight Cassie’s battles for her. If
Valentin chose to keep her in the dark, it was her responsibility either
to have it out with him or to put up with it.
Crossing the kitchen, he earned another long-suffering smile from
Maria. He walked along the hall and descended the stairs to the staff
quarters, aware that the prospect of a night away had just become a
lot more inviting.

Eight

Liam knew from the floor plans that the garage could be accessed
via the house. He hurried through a kitchen so enormous that it was
probably larger than some of the flats he’d rented over the years.
Then into the adjoining utility room, where he discovered the door
into the garage was locked. He looked round for a key but couldn’t
find one.
He was about to kick the door in when he remembered the estate
agent’s keys. He pulled them from his pocket, saw that several were
on a keyring of their own, along with a plastic tag marked
DREAMSCAPE
.
The second one he tried slipped easily into the lock.
The garage was stifling, the air as thick as soup. Although it was
large enough for four or five cars, the interior was clad in timber;
there was no natural light and not much ventilation. It was like
stepping into a sauna.
At least Liam didn’t have to grope for a light switch. The system
operated on movement sensors, and a bank of fluorescent tubes
fired up as he crossed the threshold. The ceiling was built low to
accommodate a strengthened floor for the games room overhead, the
centrepiece of which was a full-sized snooker table.
Years since I played snooker, he thought, grinning slyly as he reflected
on some of the other things you could do on a snooker table.
That brought him back to the estate agent, and the man’s secret
assignation. This woman he was screwing could turn up at any moment.
Two extra hostages before they’d even got set up. Not exactly the best
of starts.
'Well, bollocks to that,’ Liam said, his voice resonating in the large
empty space. At least he had the experience to know that things like this
always happened. There was even a motto for it, for Christ’s sake: Expect
the unexpected. What mattered was how you dealt with it.
Reaching the big double doors, he paused, thinking he’d heard a
noise back in the house. A muffled cry, maybe?
He waited a second, wondering how Priya would react if the man
made a grab for her. Whether she could fight him off.
But there was no time to go and check. The last thing Liam wanted
was the estate agent’s lover rolling up just as he got into the Renault.
So hurry . . .

Valentin Nasenko had a permanent staff of more than twenty people:
personal assistants, maids and housekeepers, gardeners and bodyguards.
Some were based on site at Valentin’s various homes around the world,
while others travelled with the man himself. At Terror’s Reach there
were usually two or three live-in staff, including Joe.
Their quarters were in the basement: four bedrooms which opened
onto a communal open-plan living area and kitchenette. Joe’s room
was about ten feet by eight, decorated in neutral colours, with a single
built-in wardrobe and an ensuite shower room. The only window was
a narrow skylight that ran along the side of the house and poured a
little daylight into each of the rooms.
It was an arrangement similar, in Joe’s opinion, to a prison cell.
Certainly Yuri seemed to think so. He took any opportunity to help
himself to one of the guest bedrooms on the second floor, rather than
languish down here.
The room could be locked, but since it seemed likely that Valentin
had access to master keys, Joe kept his personal possessions in a metal
strongbox stashed beneath a spare blanket in the bottom of his