Holy Island Trilogy 02 - Nowhere Man (24 page)

‘But the tide's in for most of the night. How are we going to manage it with the causeway under water?’

‘Don’t fret, it’s sorted.’ Aunt May had got out of her seat and was heading for the stairs when they both heard a loud knocking on the door.

Aunt May looked quickly at Brother David. Putting her finger to her lips, she whispered, ’Upstairs. I’ll sort this.’ Brother David nodded.

Aunt May moved to the door. But the handle was already turning.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

The meeting was set to take place in the large ballroom of the hotel.   Half of the hall was taken up with seats, facing a stage hung with velvet curtains of the same blood-red as the carpet. The chandeliers matched the ones that graced the hall, and the other half of the room had pine flooring for dancing and greeting, and a large buffet table at the end of the room filled with food from every corner of the globe.

Worldwide, the major players of the Families numbered twenty-five. Below them were the agents, the people who did most of the work and earned themselves a very good living. These were mostly cousins, a lot of them many times removed, but Family enough to be totally loyal. Or so the inner circle thought.

This was only the seventh time in history that an extraordinary meeting had been called. Usually, the big meet-up was once a year, and half the time most Family members never turned up, preferring to leave everything to the agents while they indulged in their various lifestyles.

Tony stood next to Kirill Tarasov and Earl James Simmonds.

Tarasov was gritting his teeth, trying to be polite to Simmons, and was pleased to make his excuses to leave when he spotted his daughter Lovilla enter the room. He frowned when he noticed who she was with.

Walking up to her, talking politely on the way to people, most of whom he couldn’t bear the sight of, he calmed himself by taking a few deep breaths before reaching her.

‘Hello Lovilla.’ Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek.

‘Hello, Father.’ She smiled up at him before kissing him back.

Straightening up, Tarasov nodded at Count Rene. ‘Hello, Rene. Good trip over?’

‘Quality, Kirill, quality.’ He looked Tarasov in the eye. ‘Would either of you like a drink?’ he asked politely, knowing that Tarasov would rather choke to death than drink with him.

‘No, thank you, I have someone to see.’

Count Rene nodded at him.

‘Coming, Lovilla?’ Tarasov asked, eyebrow raised.

Her smile was full of arrogance as she declined, and slipped her arm through Count Rene’s.

Tarasov was foaming as he turned and strode towards the bar. But he knew better than to let it show. So that’s the game you’re playing, is it, daughter? he thought.

‘Hmm.’ He smiled despite his anger, although he was thinking, Coming out to play with the grownups, eh?

‘Vodka,’ he snapped at Ella, who had been transferred from her cleaning duties to serve behind the bar.

Ella handed over the vodka. She knew all about Tarasov and his vile habits. She’d spent two weeks at his villa, before she’d been taken to Africa to spend a further year in a foul, stinking, diseased brothel. An American soldier, who was a frequent visitor, had been responsible for freeing her. He had helped her to escape one night, equipped with decent clothes and enough money for a passage to England. There, having heard rumours about them, she had sought out the sisterhood.

Knowing so many girls passed through his hands that he probably had no chance of remembering her, and seeing as the supervisor was watching, she smiled at Tarasov, who completely ignored her.

Lifting the glass to his mouth, Tarasov couldn’t help but wonder why his illegal son, born of a peasant, had turned out to be a much better man than his legal wimp of a son-who still hadn’t turned up. ‘Typical,’ he muttered, putting the glass back on the bar. ‘Just when I need the prat.’

Spotting the American, Slone, Tarasov downed his drink and walked over to him. The American's greeting was friendly enough, even though he had to look up at Tarasov. ’Hi Tarasov. Bet it’s nice to be back in the warmth again.’

‘Actually, the cold suits my blood temperature.’

Slone grinned. ’I just bet it does. You ready to do battle in the morning?’

‘Oh yes.’

Tarasov surveyed the room, weighing up those for and those against, wondering if he could rely on any of them. And when his damn son was going to turn up, if ever.

Spotting Prince Carl, he was about to go and see him when Tony came over and whispered in his ear.

Quickly Tarasov glanced at his watch. The meeting was scheduled for nine o' clock in the morning. It was tradition, family only. Midday, another meeting would be held and the agents would be told what they needed to be told. Tonight was for socialising, getting the right people on board.

Precious time that he needed.

‘Damn,’ he muttered. Probably just over an hour to London, perhaps more. But he had to go.  He nodded at Tony, then caught the eye of his three bodyguards and gestured with his head for them to meet him outside.

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Danny woke up, wondering where he was. His vision was blurred and he couldn’t move his hands. He blinked a few times, and suddenly two faces swam above his head.

They were close and peering down at him. Their mouths were moving, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. One of them leaned further over. It was then, moving his head slightly in the direction of that face, that he saw the bars on the window. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. His mouth was full of cotton wool. Panicking, he started to thrash about, then each of them grabbed an arm and hoisted him up. One kept hold of him while the other filled a syringe with white liquid.

He tried to free his arms, but it was hopeless. It was then he realised he was in a straitjacket.

‘Help!’ he screamed, over and over, unaware that hardly any sound was coming out. Wild-eyed, he watched as the one with the syringe stuck it into his arm.

Who are they?

Where am I?

It’s them.

Oh my God, it’s them.

He pleaded with his eyes. But they said nothing, just stared at him.

A few moments later, he was floating on air. Then his head fell to one side, and Danny slowly closed his eyes.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

‘Hi, May,’ Jill said, as she walked in.

‘Hi yourself,’ Aunt May answered. She looked at her watch. ‘What brings you out in the bloody dark…Thought you had a bad stomach?’

‘It’s eased off a bit, well quite a lot thank God.  Anyhow I thought you might like a bit of company, you know. Bit of gossip. You, by the way, are the topic of the village. The usual shopkeeper's back, and going crazy about what happened. Wouldn’t like to be the owners of that agency when he gets his hands on them.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘The girls are up in their bedrooms, probably Facebooking as usual. The TV is crap. Don’t know why we pay a licence. I was feeling a bit lonely.’

‘You know you’re welcome any time. Cup of tea?’

‘I’ll make it.’

‘No.’ Aunt May hurried past her into the kitchen. No way was she giving Jill a chance to drop something into her tea. ‘Do you want tea or coffee?’ Aunt May asked over her shoulder.

‘Tea, thanks, coffee keeps me awake if I drink it at night. It’s the last thing I need.’

Upstairs, Brother David was looking in the full-length mirror. Mike’s jeans were a bit tight around the waist, but bearable, and the black t-shirt fitted all right. It felt strange to be in clothes again. He realised that he’d missed the freedom of movement, without even knowing it.

He’d heard Jill come in, and was reluctant to go downstairs in case she started asking questions. She was bound to wonder why he wasn’t wearing his robe. But she will be wondering where I am. Best show my face.

‘Hi, Jill,’ he said a moment later, as he walked into the kitchen.

Jill blinked. ’My, look at you.’

‘Yes, well…’

‘His robe needed a wash, so he borrowed some of Mike’s clothes,’ Aunt May put in quickly, knowing Brother David would struggle to come up with a bare-faced lie.

Brother David smiled at Jill as he nodded in agreement, then quickly turned away, knowing his face was probably red.

‘Erm...any word from Mike?’ Jill asked.

‘No,’ Aunt May replied. ‘He’s probably busy.’ She could feel the tension coming from Jill. Brother David was far from a good actor, and truth be told, neither was Jill. The problem was getting her out of the house without raising her suspicions.

She yawned. ‘Oh, sorry, Jill.’ She laughed.

Jill smiled. ‘You’re bound to be tired. I’ll drink this and go. Perhaps I’ll have an early night as well.’

Ten minutes later, Brother David was closing the door behind Jill. ‘I thought she was never going to go,’ he said.

‘Yes, and I’ve yawned so much I think I’ve dislocated my bloody jaw.’ Aunt May moved her jaw back and forth.

‘So what now?’

‘Now we go.’ Quickly, she picked up her handbag, and got her coat and one of Mike’s denim jackets off the pegs by the door.

‘Where are we going?’ Brother David asked, shrugging into Mike’s jacket.

‘Norfolk.’

‘Norfolk! That’s where St Godric was born, in 1065. He actually came to Lindisfarne, and was inspired by St Cuthbert to become a hermit. He…he lived until he was one hundred and ten.’

‘Really? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was bloody Smiler standing there spouting off. Come on.’

Still amazed by the connection, Brother David followed Aunt May out of the house and down to the dock. The speedboat was waiting for them. Patrick, whose boat it was, welcomed them on board and, without wasting any more time, whisked them off down the coast to the small fishing village of Seahouses, where a car was waiting for them.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

Mike, hands tied behind his back, was also tied to a chair in what looked like a metal-walled room. The black sack had been taken off his head half an hour ago, and replaced by a gag that was driving him crazy. There was one dim light above his head. It was impossible to see into the far corners of the room.

He knew there were three of them. One, who he presumed to be in charge, was sitting at a desk, every now and then throwing a dirty look his way. He was tall and thick set, with a slight Russian accent. The other two, standing at each side of him, were obviously heavies and wouldn’t look out of place standing outside of a notorious nightclub.

He struggled with the ropes tying his hands, and received a slap to the side of his head for his efforts. The man at the desk looked up from the papers he’d been going through. Turning the last page over, he laid it on top of the others and glared at Mike.

Just by his face, Mike knew he was in deep shit. Wondering just what the hell he’d ever done to this man, who he’d never seen in his life, he felt the skin crawl on the back of his neck as the man rose from his chair. Not once did he take his eyes off Mike as he walked over and stood in front of him.

The blow came without warning, without a word spoken. One minute he was staring at Mike, the next he was viciously attacking him. Punch after punch rained down on him, from his head to his stomach. Swinging to one side to avoid him, Mike toppled over the chair. Both he and it ended on the floor, where the man proceeded to kick him.

Mike struggled the best he could, but he was helpless and guessed that this was finally it. He wouldn’t see this night out. Regrets flashed through his mind, for a moment masking the pain.

Then suddenly he was hauled upright, and his tormentor, who had not said a word throughout the ordeal, was pulled to one side by a bigger man.

‘Why?’ the newcomer asked.

‘So you know who he is then, Father?’

Kirill Tarasov glared at his son.

For a moment, what they were saying went over Mike’s head. He was busy looking at the three men standing behind Tarasov.

They could be triplets, he thought. Then he blinked. More than triplets - they’re the spitting doubles of these two twats behind me. A strange feeling went through him, and he shuddered.

He tuned back in, just in time to hear the man who had captured him yelling at the newcomer.

‘It’s always been him, hasn’t it? Whatever I did was never enough, never good enough for you.’

‘Nonsense, Vadim,’ Tarasov snapped.

‘Is it? Ask Lovilla, she’ll tell you. We know you’ve watched him since he was fucking well conceived.’

‘OK! Enough. We have to get back to Norfolk.’ He looked at the two men standing behind Mike. ’Release him, and take him back to Norfolk. He needs a Family doctor now.’

‘Not before he learns the truth.’ Vadim stepped in front of Mike.  ‘Let me introduce you. Detective Inspector Michael Yorke, meet your father - the esteemed Kirill Tarasov.’

Table of Contents

Title page

PROLOGUE

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

PART TWO