This Other Country (11 page)

Nikolas was effectively silenced.

He lay back on the hard ground, contentedly smoking, and wondering if it would be in character for Nigel to pound Justin mercilessly into the ground, despite probably being on night-vision scopes. If their observers had thermal imagining, he imagined some parts of his body would be giving off a more distinct heat signature than others.

Gradually, the chatter fell silent as the men sank into their own thoughts, watching the fire. James and Mark had the near-naked Samuel squeezed between them to keep him warm.

Ben lay down on his belly alongside Nikolas, teasing him with a twig, drawing patterns on his face, until Nikolas batted his hand away, rolled over and kissed him. Ben was clearly astounded. They were entirely visible to the whole group and presumably to the psychologists observing them. Nikolas snorted softly against his ear and whispered in Danish, “I’m liking Nigel Stannis more and more. I had forgotten how liberating playing a role can be. Come, let’s move away from the fire. We don’t need its heat.” He rose to his feet, offering Ben his hand. There were some amused, ribald comments and some wolf-whistles from the group, but Ben took the hand and let Nikolas pull him to his feet. Nikolas made a mock bow to his audience. “Goodnight, gentlemen. We’re going to find a place to…sleep. I suggest you all do the same.” They moved away from the firelight and were soon swallowed by the darkness.

CHAPTER NINE

Once away from the fire, their eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. They made their way into the trees and stopped a few feet into the tree line where they could still hear the group around the fire. Nikolas made himself comfortable against a tree and pulled Ben down to sit in his arms. It was cold, and he wrapped his arms tightly around Ben’s strong, muscular body, grateful for the heat radiating back from him, warming his chest. He propped his chin on Ben’s shoulder and continued speaking in very soft Danish, “I’m tempted to see if we are actually being observed.”

“I’m tempted to see how far I can ram a—” Ben switched back to English. “What’s night vision scope in Danish? Anyway, one of those up a psychologist’s arse.”

Nikolas chuckled. “Not very far. They’re too full of bullshit. Oh, by the way, I’ve worked out why some of the previous clients killed themselves. Can you imagine having to admit to anyone you’d spent a night doing this?”

Ben sighed, pulling Nikolas’s arms even more securely around him. “I’m hungry.”

“We’ve just had dinner!”

“I was trying to stay in character—eat politely.”

“Not your usual hoover from one end of the table to the other? Poor Benjamin. I have something you could eat…”

“That would look good on the monitors.”

“That’s your trouble. You don’t take your cover seriously enough.
Justin and Nigel
don’t know they’re being observed…do they?”

Ben frowned and twisted around in his embrace. “Seriously? You want me to…even though
you
know they’re watching.”

Nikolas pretended to be theatrically wounded. “Not me,
min skat
,
Nigel
. Since when would I behave in such a manner? Forget it. I can’t expect you to have the dedication to your cover I—” He always found it hard to talk at first contact. Ben’s fingers found his clothed, rigid penis, investigated to find and release the zip, eased him out, cold touch to warm flesh…The pleasure and anticipation was always overwhelming, but now…being watched…knowing the doctor would see the beautiful Justin pleasuring him in the dark…It was too much. Nikolas’s brows rose. His head tipped back. He stifled a groan, and then it was over.

Ben rose after a moment. “Is that it?”

“Ack, in character…see?—even
that
I can do entirely in— Ow.” Ben settled back comfortably once more into his arms.

“I’m still hungry by the way.”

§ § §

It was an incredibly long night. No one slept at all. When first light came, they looked like a scene from a horror movie—campers menaced by chainsaw-wielding mutants all night. Hard ground, no sleep and the cold can do that very quickly to men taken from home comforts. They were unshaven, dirty, ragged. It always amazed Nikolas how quickly people went down. Even Ben was more dishevelled than he ought to be—he’d had his contacts in for twenty-four hours, his eyes now gritty and red, and his new ear piercing was slightly infected from twisting the stud around with dirty fingers.

John was the first one to spot the box just to one side of the clearing when he returned from taking a piss behind the trees. He carried it to the remains of the fire and opened it up, everyone crowding around, hoping to find some food and perhaps a vehicle inside. Unfortunately, there was only a map, a compass, and a piece of paper with a grid reference on it and underneath:
breakfast will be cleared away - 1000 hrs
. Every single one of them glanced immediately at their watches. Four hours.

Mark voiced the obvious. “Does anyone know how to use a map and compass? Justin?”

Ben glanced at Nikolas then shrugged lightly. “Cadets was a long time ago, but I’ll give it a go.”

John surprised his partner by taking the compass off him with a weary sigh. “Good grief. I teach this to my Year Nines. Come on, everyone. I have a feeling they’ll lay on a full English breakfast if we make it back in good time.” Even Nikolas felt slightly impressed and motivated, and he grinned at Ben as John strode confidently off toward the tree line.

He went up to Samuel. “What size shoes do you take?” Samuel seemed particularly defeated. Nikolas recognised the signs of withdrawal easily enough.

“Nine.”

“Nine?” Was it possible to have feet that small? “Fuck.” He reluctantly took off his shirt. He didn’t want to expose either his physique or his scars, neither of which added veracity to his pretence of being a florist, but Samuel couldn’t walk in bare feet. Much to the younger man’s astonishment, Nikolas tore and wrapped, tore and wrapped, until a comfortable and very acceptable pair of foot coverings was created. Nikolas looked up from his crouch into a pair of agitated, pale blue eyes. He murmured, “How long?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“How long?”

“Yesterday, in the bathroom. Just before you came in.”

Nikolas shook his head. “Then it appears you’ll be doing rehab and therapy at the same time. Can you walk? It’s daylight now, and you can watch where you put your feet.”

Samuel nodded. Nikolas flashed him a smile of approval, and on that one shared moment, Samuel walked the whole way with his improvised shoes and withdrawal without a murmur of complaint. Nikolas had practised the art of leadership in far harsher circumstances than this.

§ § §

Ben and Nikolas fell naturally to the rear of the walking group so they could monitor their small flock, even if they couldn’t appear to be doing so. It enabled them to chat, too. Now relieved from the slightly oppressive thought they were being watched, they fell back into old habits and were actually enjoying the early morning exercise. It was still misty, the air was cool and fresh, and other than not being clean and shaved it was much like many mornings they’d both spent over their lives. “Do you think this weird therapy might actually be working?” Ben was staring thoughtfully at John and the way Mark was teasing him about his map reading—clearly they were very happy and gaining confidence from the situation.

Nikolas nudged him and indicated the quietest of their group. Lincoln and Lester, the soon-to-be newlyweds, weren’t quite so complacent and smug now—and they certainly weren’t holding hands.

Ben watched them for a while. “But you could say it’s working there, too. I mean, there didn’t seem much point them being here yesterday, did there? They seemed so sorted—so sure of what they wanted. But now this has put strain on them—maybe for the first time—taking them out of their comfort zone—and look at them…”

Nikolas sighed exasperatedly. “I could have told them that for less than six thousand pounds and sore feet. I gave them a day married.”

“Liar.”

“I did! It was obvious. No one holds hands unless they are seriously sick and insecure.”

Ben gave him one of his most derisive looks. After eight years, he was quite good at them—they actually stung.

Nikolas pouted. “I should run this fucking course.”

Ben snorted. “You could combine it with your survival skills training…”

This was a sore subject between them and a low blow on Ben’s part. Nikolas had once thought to use their skills and knowledge to run survival courses. Their experiences in the Russian wilderness had reminded them just how much they did know and, conversely, how much most ordinary people didn’t. But Nik’s first course had attracted an…unusual…set of applicants. They’d all had shaved heads and army fatigues
before
they’d arrived, and almost to a man they’d been able to boast of large collections of tinned goods squirreled away in lock ups or garages for…and then there was a lot of nodding and winking. For what? Ben knew Nikolas had been bemused by them. Unilaterally, he’d decided he wouldn’t be responsible for teaching any of them to kill and gut anything and had refunded them their course fees and sent them home.

Ben could see he’d scored a rare point with Nikolas and pressed home his advantage. “You could advertise to gay men only next time. They come on your survival course and…” Nikolas seized him around the neck in one strong arm and knuckle-rubbed the blond spikes until Ben begged for mercy—genuinely. Nikolas never stinted when punishing Ben and made sure it hurt.

After a while, apparently suffering under a stony silence from Ben, Nikolas deviated from the path they were following, bent and turned back with a flower, which he presented to Ben. “For you…sweetheart.”

Ben batted it away. “You don’t even know what it is, and you’re supposed to be—”

“And as usual, you’re wrong. It’s a dandelion. See? Black belt in flowers.” Nik chuckled. “I liked your cooking analogy. The shelling especially…given all these nuts…”

Ben snagged his belt once more—not that he needed to tether Nikolas; he’d recovered from the fear Nik was about to break out; he just liked anchoring him close anyway—and nodded at Samuel. “What’s with?”

“Coke. He was stuffing it up his nose yesterday just before I went into the bathroom.”

“Recognised the signs, did you?”

Nikolas sniffed and ignored this. “He’s probably missing it more than the lovely Noah.”

“Fuck. Are we there yet?”

Nikolas smiled and seemed willing to let the profanity go.

CHAPTER TEN

It took them three hours to get back.

Breakfast consisted of black coffee and five bread rolls between the eleven of them. Nikolas rolled his eyes at the blatant manipulation. What did they expect them to do? Break down and murder each other for a bread roll? He waved his portion away and let Ben eat it. He liked being hungry. Hunger assuaged the need in him to let loose and fly free, be what he truly was. It was his control mechanism, and he could still bring it into play when he needed it.

They all expected to be released for showers and sleep, so the arrival of the good doctor with his clipboard was unwelcome in the extreme. He listened to their complaints with total equanimity, then asked them if they wanted to get on with the programme. As he reminded them, they’d signed up for it. The only way to not sit down and continue was to get in their vehicles and leave.

They’d burnt their programmes on the fire the previous night, which raised a little chorus of cheers, but after a few more complaints, they dragged their chairs back into a circle.

The doctor smiled at them. They must have appeared an extremely odd therapy group. They were universally filthy, unshaven and smelt bad. Nikolas was actually slightly worried about Ben, for he was blinking constantly, rubbing his eyes. He leant over. “Take the fucking things out.”

“I can’t, I—”

“Ben, after last night, even I’m beginning to suspect you were never in Special Forces. I think you’ll be safe to admit to green eyes.”

Ben appeared to debate internally for a while, but just as the doctor was about to begin, he stood up and announced he had to visit the bathroom. The doctor narrowed his eyes and almost seemed about to refuse him permission to leave. Ben shrugged and began to unbutton there and then. “I’ve pissed in stranger places before.” He was rapidly waved towards the door. He left to a chorus of whoops and hollers of encouragement and congratulation.

§ § §

Green eyes restored, and greatly cheered up by getting the sandpaper out, Ben studied his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t looking good. His stubble was black, which was extremely incongruous with the blond goatee. He pulled out the diamond stud as well, sick of feeling it there, wincing at the way it stuck and came out with pus. He was totally fed up with this whole business now. He was very tempted to admit it to Nikolas as well. But he also knew the only way they would discover why some men had stayed for an additional three weeks, and therefore presumably find out what Squeezy was doing, was to stick out this first week. Something suddenly struck him. There had been no guards at the end of the corridor. Clearly all the inmates were supposed to be in lockdown with their therapists. He eased the door open. Still clear. Very quickly, he passed through the door at the end and found himself in the administration area—offices on each side, and then another door, which led to the kitchens.

He passed swiftly through and startled the young man who was laying up trays with coffee cups and biscuits. He glanced up and muttered something, clearly not expecting to be understood because he spoke in Urdu. Ben grinned. He quickly pulled out Squeezy’s picture—it was one Nikolas had taken of him with Squeezy, drinking one night, arms around each other, grinning inanely into the camera. The man studied it at the same time as nervously watching the door. He seemed about to deny anything and everything, but then his eyes lit up and he cried, “Fucking fucky fuck.” Ben laughed out loud and confided in Urdu, “He friend. He missing.”

The man ran off a quick string of something that Ben only caught a word or two of. “Fuck! Slow down!”