Connected (22 page)

Nadia scrutinised the
reflection in the mirrored door of her bathroom cabinet. A general sense of
unease had overtaken her since the incident in the High Street, and the
resulting lack of sleep was now showing in her eyes. She added a touch more
liner and stepped back, turning her head from side to side to observe the
effect under different light. Cool and confident was the look she was after.
She could ill-afford to show weakness, especially today. The job was done, she
was finally to be paid her due and, providing Sergei kept his word, that would
be the end of it, forever. It was a simple business transaction after all. Her
customer had a requirement, which she had fulfilled using her own unique
combination of skill, charm and persuasion. The details of execution may have
been a little unorthodox, but her rule, her one and only rule, that nobody
should get hurt, had not been broken, at least not in any permanent way. Sure,
Doug would sulk for a while, but after a week or two, he’d be back playing
rugby, drinking, womanising and boasting to his friends about the hot sex he
had once had with a Russian stripper-accountant named Cindy. Surely, to some
degree, everyone was guilty of exploiting their physicality in pursuit of
goals. What was so different about her use of sex-appeal to secure a
transaction, compared to a tall, physically imposing man standing up in a
business meeting and banging his fists on the conference table to make a point?
It was no coincidence that, statistically, company CEOs were invariably taller
and better looking than their subordinates. She smiled into the mirror. Cool
and confident she was!

Stepping into the teak-panelled closet she scanned
the rack of designer heels. Black, understated, and classic, was what she
needed. This narrowed it down to three pairs, from which she chose the Prada
stilettos. Grabbing her keys from the black granite bar separating kitchen and
living area, she made for the door. Just as she was reaching for the latch, an
incoming text alert sounded from within her bag. She rummaged around and
withdrew her mobile. It was Doug again. Her finger hovered over the delete
option, then at the last moment pressed Read instead:

Cindy,
am going 2 police
re ur friend Markov. Have
proof of hacking n theft.
Just wanted 2 warn u coz
I luv u. Dxxx

She staggered back to the bar feeling suddenly
weak and light-headed. Setting herself on one of the stools, she re-read the
message. How could he possibly know about the key-logger? They had assured her
it was undetectable by all security software. Even if by some fluke, Doug had
found it, there was surely no way it could be traced back to Dmitri let alone
to Sergei. As for the theft of that other PC from up north, that had to be a
guess. The other guy in the email must have told Doug about the burglary, and
now he was just putting two and two together. Still, it showed an intelligence
and resourcefulness she would never have expected at the outset. Okay, cool and
confident - damage control - the key question was whether she could be linked
to any of this. If Doug had believed her to be involved, he surely would never
have sent the text as warning. That was good - although why would she need
warning if not involved. Maybe he was just anticipating Sergei’s reaction,
knowing that he had hit her at least once before. This was actually quite
sweet, she thought. The poor loveable sap was still smitten. Her mind started
to analyse the different scenarios. Even if Dmitri and the gang sent to steal
the PC went down, Sergei would still squirm his way out of it - he always did.
Even so, the sooner she collected her money and that long-promised video tape,
the better. In fact, the money was secondary, it was the tape she really
wanted. Sergei had held that over her for far too long. Cool and confident, she
repeated to herself again. She glanced at her watch. It was 11:30am. Late
enough she thought, pulling a bottle of Absolut Vodka from the fridge and
pouring a half shot to calm her nerves. Now, she was ready.

Nadia enjoyed driving into London on a Sunday
morning, the roads mostly quiet away from the main shopping districts, and the
Porsche purring along much more happily without the interminable stop-start of
weekday traffic. She parked opposite the club, just short of a pile of
shattered glass, sparkling in the morning sunlight on the curb ahead. Dave, the
idiot, sexist, cockney bouncer opened the door and led her silently to the
office at the back. It was a small dingy room, painted and carpeted in grey,
with one large grey desk at the centre.
“Good morning Sergei!” she said cheerfully, speaking in Russian.
Markov looked up at her from behind the desk and she realised at once that
something was wrong.
“Is it?” he replied in English, getting up with a sickening smile on his face.
“Guess who was in here last night,” he challenged, taking a step forward.
Cindy backed away towards the door. “How would I know?”
“How would you know?” he repeated in a rhetorical, almost musical tone, as he
continued towards her.
She retreated further, until she felt the immovable bulk of the bouncer against
her back. “Sorry!” she said instinctively.
“Are you?” asked Markov, the smile now transmuting into an ugly sneer. “Your
two lover-boy from university come here - last night - in my club - spy on our
Dmitri. How you suppose they know to come here?” He stopped, letting the
thickly accented words hang in the air, while his narrow sunken eyes mined her
face for a reaction.

Cool and confident, she repeated silently in her
head. She took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back and then stepped forward,
shoving the Russian firmly in the chest with both hands. “How dare you try to
blame me for the incompetence of your own people!” she shouted at him, as
loudly as she could without shrieking. The effect was just as she had hoped,
Markov recoiling into the desk, as much from surprise as from the imparted
momentum. Like the playground bully, with his hired muscle at the ready, he had
been expecting some sort of fearful, grovelling denial, but was completely
wrong-footed by the sudden display of anger. She continued, crowding into his
personal space, drawing herself to her full height and jutting out her chin
defiantly. “I never have understood why you trusted that pompous little prick
in the first place. He may be your cousin, but he’s a fucking liability, cruising
around in that big blue substitute for a penis and trying to impress pubescent
girls with boasts of international computer espionage. If the students traced
him back here, then it’s down to his own stupidity.” As she said this, she
prodded him in the chest and immediately felt a large pair of hands close
around her upper arms from behind. “And you have until the count of three to
get your fucking hands off me!” she shouted without turning. The grip loosened
slightly, but remained firm. “One!” she said, still squarely facing Markov, who
was now looking at her with something close to amused curiosity. “Two!” she
continued, getting ready to drive one of the stilettos into the top of the
bouncer’s foot. A nervous smile crept slowly back over Markov’s face, and he
nodded over her shoulder. The hands came off and she finally allowed herself to
turn and glare at the befuddled bouncer, now stepping back into the doorway to
resume his post as gatekeeper.
“You know something, Nadia? You and me are same,” Markov said, his smile
growing wider and sicklier. “In fact, you remind me of my mother. She was
strong stubborn woman too.” He snorted a little laugh.

The thought of sharing even the slightest of
resemblances with this creature or its mother invoked such an intense nausea
that she had to physically swallow to prevent it surfacing, but now was not the
time to express such disgust. Far better to exploit this sudden change of mood
to her favour. She smiled back at him playfully, stroking his cheek gently with
the palm of her hand. He leant forward, pushing his face toward hers. She
teased it closer then, just as their lips were an inch apart, gave it a light
slap and pushed him away provocatively. “Of course we are, Sergei. But you’re
forgetting the little matter of what you owe me.”
“Why you always in hurry to get down to business?” he sulked, walking back
around the desk and flopping into the chair. He reached for the bottom drawer
where he kept the vodka and plastic cups. As he pulled it open, the upper
drawer slid with it, revealing a momentary flash of blue-grey gunmetal before
it was pushed hastily back in. She looked away, as if she hadn’t noticed.
“Why don’t we celebrate with a drink after you’ve given me the money and the
tape?” she suggested.
Markov ignored her and poured two shots of vodka into the plastic cups.
“Are you going to insult me, Nadia? Have you so quickly forgotten the customs
of your people?”
She forced a smile. “It’s a little early, but I suppose one wouldn’t hurt.”
“Budem zdorovy!” shouted Markov, raising the cup to the air and tipping the
contents down his throat in a single gulp.
“Budem!” she replied, following suit.
“It is such beautiful tape though. Bring back happy memory. Sometime I show to
new girl as … how you say … inspiration. This – I tell girl – is what
exotic dancing should be in purest form. As close to perfection as I ever see.
You know I give anything to see you dance like that again.” He proffered the
bottle towards her.
She hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to refill her cup. “Last one!” she
said firmly.
He looked at her, disappointed. “Okay, last one!” he agreed. “But I want to
make you proposition,” he added, slightly slurring the last word.
“I won’t marry you Sergei!” she said with a laugh, knowing this wasn’t what he
meant. She had guessed he might yet again try to change the terms of their
agreement, just as it was time to pay up, but she couldn’t help wondering what
kind of proposition he had in mind. She glanced in the waste bin and noticed
two empty cups. This wasn’t his first drink of the morning. “I’m listening,”
she said.
“Now I finally have Dream-Zone file and witness effect, I don’t like Chinese
offer no more! I need someone persuade Wong that competitive advantage to
online gaming empire at least ten time more.”
“And what makes you think that?” she asked.
“I just know.”
She looked deep into the dark holes of his eyes, and for one terrifying instant,
could see that for once he wasn’t lying.
“Of course, if you prefer to take money now, and leave me to conclude
multi-hundred-thousand-pound business on my own, then go.”  As he said
this, he glanced at the bouncer and Nadia noticed a micro-gesture flicker
across the face. It lasted only a split second, but in that fleeting moment,
she understood they had absolutely no intention of letting her leave this place
with the money. She leant down and kissed him on the forehead while
surreptitiously emptying the contents of her cup into the waste bin. She then
raised it quickly to her lips and knocked her head back, swallowing the saliva
in her mouth. He looked up in approval and drank his own shot. There was
something about Markov’s manner, which suggested to Nadia, a heightened degree
of suggestibility. She had several times used the psychology of verbal
suggestion with presupposition (what some called hypnosis), to manipulate the
behaviour of others, but had never yet risked trying it on Markov.

He waggled the bottle in front of her with a hopeful
smile, as she had guessed he would. She repeated the fake drinking routine for
three more rounds, then leant forward, putting her hand on his shoulder.
“I appreciate the drink,” she said slowly, her voice firm and authoritative,
but her smile still playful. “You know you’ve always been so fair and generous
with me, Sergei. You remember how you’ve always paid me what we agreed, and
given me whatever I wanted.” She spoke in a low, steady and soothing tone as
she imagined his mother might once have done. She made a point of tapping him
deliberately on the arm at the precise time she said the words generous, paid
and given, hoping to reinforce these ideas in his mind and dispel whatever
Machiavellian machinations might have been hatching in their place. To Nadia’s
delight and surprise, a slightly dazed look began to wash across Markov’s
features. She glanced across at Dave who appeared to be frowning slightly more
than usual. She moved round the desk blocking the man’s view of his boss, and
lowered her voice to just above a whisper. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
“You know you’re safe with me, Sergei. As we sit and savour this friendly drink
together, you already know your money’s safe with me. Now before you submit to
that tiredness that’s already weighing so heavily on your eyelids, let’s just
relieve you of the burden of looking after my money and that tiresome tape so I
can slip out of your way, and let you relax into a contented sleep. In just a
moment, we’re going to get the money and the tape from the safe, and then
you’re going to settle back here, and give in to that comforting blanket of
sleep.” She continued in this vein for a few more minutes, layering suggestion
upon supposition and leading him gently down into a state of extreme relaxation
and suggestibility. She then helped him slowly out of the chair and over to the
safe. She glanced across at the oafish bouncer, who seemed to sense that
something was wrong, but appeared to have no idea what it might be. Markov
opened the safe and started to remove bundles of fifty pound notes.
“Just the ten K now, Sergei,” she said gently, smiling across at the bouncer in
reassurance. “Don’t be too generous now.” She removed a cloth sack from her
handbag and stashed the ten grand inside, patting Markov kindly on the shoulder
and making reassuring noises. “Now the tape.”
“But I like to watch tape,” said Markov drowsily.
“I know, but if you give it to me now, I might invite you to my place so we can
watch it together.”
He smiled, reaching to the back of the safe, and withdrawing the old cassette.
Shutting her eyes, and sighing deeply with relief, she took the tape, and slid
it into the sack with the money. He closed the heavy steel door, spun the
combination dial, and let himself be led back to the chair.
She leant down positioning her ear close to his mouth as if trying to hear
something he was about to whisper. “What was that?” she said, just loud enough
for the bouncer to hear. “You want me to go now, so you can get some sleep…
okay then Sergei.” She then placed a hand on his forehead and whispered in his
ear. “Sleep now.” Resting Markov’s head against the back of the chair, she
tousled his hair with mock affection and began striding confidently towards the
door. The bouncer glanced at Markov, looked across at Nadia, and then back at
Markov again. He was clearly confused, presumably because this was not the
chain of events he had been led to expect.
“You know you really don’t want to wake him now, just having already told you
that he wants me to leave!” she said assertively and, she hoped, confusingly.
“No… I …” he said, looking duly confused.
“Well thank you so much,” she said continuing towards him purposefully, as
though he had already started moving to one side.
“That’s okay,” he said, finally stepping back and letting her pass.
The urge to run out of the club as fast as her little Prada’s would carry her
was strong, but she willed herself to remain calm and strolled out to the car
as though what had just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Only
when safely in the driver’s seat, with her key in the ignition, did she allow
herself a glance back towards the club. As expected, the bouncer was standing
in the doorway looking more confused than ever. She grinned at him, and drove
gently away, cool and confident.