The Vanishing (35 page)

Could she do without it? Could she change her mind, turn her back on it? Why shouldn’t she? This hadn’t been her plan.
Her
idea – kicking off from Freddie’s twisted plans – had been to spoil his intentions, to turn them against him. She had gone to Dima with information about Freddie’s monstrous plot and with a really simple quick-hit idea – take Sara, hold her harmlessly on a boat off the island for a few hours, get Freddie to pay for her. Then release her. Dima had gone along with that because he was owed, because he hated Freddie. There had never been an intention to hurt Sara.

What had happened on that island? Stupid fucking Max, with his guns. He couldn’t be trusted. The war had savaged him, done something to his brain as well as his balls. He had screwed it up. She still didn’t know how or why. She should have stopped it then. Dima had wanted to, when she visited him. But what would have happened to Sara if she had stopped it then? In a way everything she had done was to protect Sara. Sara had no idea who her worst enemy was. It was the same now. What was going to happen when Freddie went in with his shotgun? Would he kill Dima? Where would that leave her?

She was driving as she fretted about it all, the sweat pouring out of her, soaking her back and under her arms. Just her and Freddie in the car. He was ranting the whole way, but she couldn’t hear it. Her thoughts were too fearful, she had no space for him. And they were here now. Here already. The time for choosing was past. She could see the sign – EXPRO CONTAINER STORAGE – hear Freddie demanding if this was the place. The gates were open, no one in sight. Dima would already be here. He had left the gates open for her. She slowed down in front of them and looked in, saw his car parked farther into the yard there, facing her. But no Dima. No sign of him.

‘This is it,’ she said. ‘This is the place.’

‘You wait here,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘Wait here until I come back.’

She nodded frantically. Should she wish him luck or something? Should that be part of the act? It didn’t matter, because he was already getting out, already popping the boot, taking out the gun. It wasn’t even in a bag. He was a complete idiot. Crossing the road in full view with a gun.

An idiot, but not incapable of harm. He had been a soldier at some point, a paratrooper, he’d even been given a medal for doing something brutal, somewhere – possibly in the Falklands. He wouldn’t speak about it. But he knew how to shoot. He might kill Dima. Dima would be unarmed. Freddie was an idiot, but he was cunning. The way he had handled the police, to get them off Sara – that had been very assured. As if he had been concerned only for Sara’s safety. She couldn’t assume Dima and Max could handle him. It might be Freddie who walked out alive.

She watched him run into the yard. Wait for him? She should just drive off, leave them all to it. But she couldn’t. Freddie she could ignore, and Max. But Sara? Could she do this to Sara? She didn’t want to.
She didn’t want to.
She was realising that only now. It wasn’t the plan. And Dima – she would never get away from him. To cross him was insane. She took her phone out, her hands trembling. She could see Freddie trying to open the doors to Dima’s car. She assumed it was Dima’s car. She got his number up. She would have to warn him. She couldn’t let it happen like this. Warn him, then drive off. Get Sasha, get to the airport. Get away while it happened. Back to Russia without any of their money. She had some savings, her own money. That would have to do. She had to protect Sasha, get away from all this, start again. She didn’t want these people coming between them.

She started the engine. Freddie was running into the place now, disappearing into the rows of containers. It would take him a while. The place was massive. Maybe he would never find them. But she couldn’t take the chance. Dima would find her, wherever she was in the world, eventually he would find her. If she crossed him and he lived, he would get her. Get her, get Sasha. So she had to call him, warn him now. Tell him – lie to him – that Freddie knew her role, that he had monitored her phones, that he knew everything, that she had fled in fear of him, that he was coming here to kill right now. Warn him and then get out.

When the banging started Sara was concentrating on how she could get the shackle off her ankle. The crocodile clip was still lying there, just past the metal bench, where he’d kicked it. She couldn’t reach it now, so she had to get the shackle off instead. She had begged through tears to use a toilet, to see if that would do it. But that only led to him giving her a bucket and some paper, and turning his back. ‘I do the same,’ he said. ‘Now’s not the time for delicacy.’

Her tears bothered him, though, made him say reassuring things, make promises, give her more food, or water. She had some leverage because he didn’t want noise, she thought. Maybe no one could hear from outside, as he claimed – though she had noticed that the entire floor of the container was covered with thick rubberised matting, presumably to muffle any sound – but the noise still disturbed him. When he couldn’t stop her he didn’t start screaming at her or lashing out, he just sat at the bench with his head in his hands.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t used his mobile yet. She assumed he would have to, at some point, that he would speak in Russian and she would understand. Unless he went outside to speak. He hadn’t been out at all yet. If he went out it wouldn’t help her much – the shackle chain was so short she couldn’t even reach as far as the container walls – but she still hoped he would go, leave her alone for a moment to think clearly.

He was on his feet as soon as the banging started. She didn’t know what it was, but he obviously did. He produced a gun from behind the bench and pulled the slide back, cocking it. It looked like the same sort of thing he had been holding back on the island when she had shot his hand. He was using the other hand now. He didn’t point it at her. Instead, he padded to the far end of the container and started sliding the bolts across the door. Now she could hear someone shouting something outside. The door swung open and light flooded in. She had to squint. She heard him talking, then saw him moving forward, into the door frame. Her eyes started to adjust, but all she could see outside was the sides of more shipping containers, like the one she was in. She kept perfectly still, listening hard.

Someone was saying things to him in Russian, talking very loudly. Her head was clearer now and she got some of it – something about problems and a change of plan. When he replied she realised he was looking down, speaking to someone below him. Their container must be on top of something, raised off the ground. She wondered how he had got her up here. He would have needed help, she thought. She had been out cold, could recall nothing of the journey.

She understood all of his reply, perfectly. ‘Arisha has to call,’ he said. ‘We stay here until she calls.’

Vostrikova, he meant. What did she have to do with him? But that was right, she thought – she had seen him with her at some point.

‘Arisha told me she would call you,’ the other voice said, still in Russian. ‘She should already have called …’

‘She hasn’t called. I’ve heard nothing …’

‘You take your instructions from me, not her …’

‘Everything I’ve done on this I’ve had the instructions from her. You know that. I need to know what she thinks. This isn’t right …’

‘It’s a waste of time, Max. Do as I say. It’s no longer worth the risk …’

‘Why? Because of
him
?’

‘Not just him. You don’t know the detail. It’s not worth the risk to my interests. It’s too risky now. That’s my decision, my judgement …’

‘So you’ve done some deal with him. I understand that. But where does that leave me? I need to know the details. Where does it leave Arisha? Does she know anything about this?’

‘She knows everything. I told you – she will be here soon. But I told her to call you also. Was your phone off? Maybe the reception in there is bad. Check. See if she has called you …’

‘No one has called. And I don’t like it. What does your deal say about Arisha and me?’

‘Nothing. There’s no need. The deal is simple. We just call it off and we all walk away …’

‘Just like that? But she has seen me. She can identify me. And now
he
has seen me too. You should not have brought him here.’

Who were they referring to? she wondered.

‘He has seen me as well,’ the other said. ‘It doesn’t matter. He knows the situation. He knows what will happen. He can be trusted …’

‘But you made no deal with
her
. Can
she
be trusted? I don’t think so. This is sloppy, Dimitri Alexandrovich, sloppy and unusual. It’s not how I would handle it …’

‘It doesn’t matter how you would handle it. You are being impertinent …’

‘I’m sorry. But I can’t do it. I need to hear from Arisha. Ring her. Tell her that …’

‘You ring her.’

‘I have my hands full …’

Suddenly the argument was interrupted by another voice, shouting in English. ‘Is Sara in there? I want to see her. This goes no farther unless I see her. Right now.’ Tom. It was Tom. She felt her heart jump with sudden hope, some of the argument between the other two now making sense. Now she knew who they had been talking about. She was on the point of shouting to him, but just caught herself. The man – Max – was looking back at her.

‘I want to see her,’ Tom shouted again. ‘If you’ve hurt her in any way this is all off …’

‘You see,’ Max said in Russian. ‘You think you can trust him? He will see her and go crazy …’

‘She is not hurt, though,’ the other man said – the one Max had called Dimitri Alexandrovich.

‘She is cut,’ Max replied calmly. ‘Where I took out the transmitter … there is blood on her …’

‘It’s nothing. Let him come up and see her …’

‘No one comes up here until I’ve heard from Arisha …’

‘Why? Don’t be an idiot, Max. What are you going to do if you think I’m wrong? Shoot everyone? Don’t be fucking mad …’

‘No one comes up here. Contact Arisha. If I hear it from her – that we are safe, both of us – then I will do what you want. I’m sorry, Dimitri Alexandrovich. I have been with you many years, but this is different. I am exposed here …’

‘You have my word …’

‘And I know your word is good. But I can’t abandon Arisha. Call her …’

‘I’m walking,’ Tom shouted. ‘I’m going back. It’s off. I don’t like it …’

‘No, wait!’ It was the one called Dimitri, that she couldn’t see, who replied. ‘Wait a moment. Everything will be cool. Wait! Maxim Fedorovich, get her to shout or something. Get her to shout to him that she is OK …’

Max turned back to her and spoke in English; ‘Shout that you are OK. Now.’

She shrunk back and curled into a ball. It was a gamble. But it worked – he didn’t ask again.

‘Or bring her forward so he can see her,’ Dimitri yelled. ‘Do that, then I’ll call Arisha. She should be here soon anyway. Bring her forward so he waits until she gets here. Please.’

‘I can stop him leaving. I can make sure he waits.’

‘Not without shooting him, or coming down, so don’t be stupid. Just show him the fucking girl, then we’ll get Arisha here.’

Max turned back suddenly, away from the door, and strode over to her, one hand digging in his pocket. He looked very nervous now. He got a key out and his hand was shaking badly. ‘Any fucking around and I will kill you,’ he whispered. ‘You understand?’

She nodded her head frantically, like a terrified little useless girl, but her heart was racing, her mind supercharged with adrenalin. Now she would be able to act. The shackle was coming off. She watched him unlock it with difficulty, then her foot was out. There was a moment when she thought she might kick him right then, take her chances, but the gun was in her belly immediately and he was dragging her roughly to her feet. He marched her very quickly to the front – before she could even think about it – and then held her a little back from the entrance. She heard someone gasp outside, looked down, saw two men there, about ten to fifteen feet away, below her – Tom and someone she didn’t know. Tom was speaking to her, his face etched with distress as he looked at her. Then he was screaming at the other man, the one beside him.

‘She is completely unhurt,’ Max shouted down, in English. ‘She is alive and well …’ She realised from his stance and his grip on her that he was going to march her back, straight away, shackle her again. She couldn’t let that happen. But right at that moment the one called Dimitri – a short, squat, older man – pulled a mobile from a pocket and held it up. ‘It’s Arisha, Max,’ he shouted with obvious relief. ‘She’s calling now. Wait!’

He put the phone to his ear and started to speak to her in Russian, then shut up suddenly. At exactly the same time Sara heard the banging again, the same banging they had heard from inside. She knew now it must be the noise made by someone walking across the tops of the hollow containers. It meant someone was coming, someone else.

‘Who is coming?’ Max shouted. She could feel his body tightening with fear. ‘Who is it? Is that Arisha? Who is it?’

But Dimitri had closed the phone, his face suddenly pale. He started to walk quickly back to the edge of the area he was standing on. Tom was shouting some questions now, and Max had tightened his grip on Sara’s shoulder so that his splinted fingers were digging into her, hurting. Tom was asking her if she was OK, Dimitri was shouting something she couldn’t catch, in Russian. They were about ten feet below her and on the other side of a six-foot gap between stacked shipping containers. But the containers they were standing on, close against each other to make a kind of platform, were themselves piled on others and surrounded by even higher piles of the rusting metal boxes. Dimitri ran to the farthest edge of the platform, where there was a space at their level and the top of a ladder showing, but even as he got there a figure appeared to the side of them all, surprising everybody. He hadn’t come from the ladder Dimitri was heading for – he was on the roof of one of the higher containers. She looked up in shock.

It was her father, with a gun. He shouted down at them all and pointed the gun at the one called Dimitri. She thought he was going to just shoot him. There was a split second of stillness, everyone waiting for the shot, then Max spun round to bring his gun up. Dimitri shouted a warning. Tom started screaming something, his hands in the air. Max shifted his grip and pulled her brutally in front of him, holding the gun to her head. His damaged arm was round her neck now.