Джеймс Паттерсон: Revenge

Come on , he willed it. Come on.

Then—there it was. The black Transit below, approaching the station.

At the same time so was the train. It was rounding a final bend toward the end of the straight track, slowing before it entered the station. The only other passengers on the platform, two young men in suits, moved forward to greet it.

On the road below, the Transit stopped.

“Here,” said Shelley. He beckoned Susie to stay out of sight on the other side of a passenger lift and did the same himself, peeking around the edge to check on the vehicle below. Its doors opened. Men appeared. Shelley saw Dmitry gesticulating, sending two men up the stairs to the platform, where they stood, the train just seconds away from coming to a stop.

“This way,” he said. The two of them raced up the platform to get as far away from the steps as possible. Meanwhile the train stopped at last, humming and modern, doors gliding open, automated announcements, and bright lights promising sanctuary.

They plunged inside, the sound of the Chechens pounding up the stairs ringing in their ears, and then right away crouched beneath the windows, ignoring the stares of the only two other people in the carriage.

In the reflection of a window opposite Shelley could see the Chechens on the platform. They wouldn’t board the train unless they were sure Shelley and Susie were on it, so they began to make their way along the platform, peering inside the carriages, shouting to one another in Russian.

Still crouched, Shelley threw a glance to his left and saw the two other passengers wearing puzzled expressions, their eyes going from Shelley and Susie to the approaching Chechens on the platform. He put a finger to his lips, willing them not to give away their position. In the reflection of the window, he saw one of the gangsters arrive, watched him peer inside, and then, apparently satisfied, move away down toward the end.

The doors closed. There was no way they could board now, but even so, Shelley still didn’t want to be seen.

No such luck. “Hey!” he heard, and looked up to see the Chechen towering over where he squatted, drumming at the window as the train began to move. The Chechen moved along with them for a few steps then relented as they gathered speed.

CHAPTER 64

SHELLEY AND SUSIE stood from their hiding place and took seats as far away from the other two passengers as possible.

“What do we do now?” said Susie, still breathing hard. They were the first words she’d spoken since the running tutorial back at Millharbour. She seemed cool, but her eyes were a little wild.

“We ride the train,” he said. “Try and get you to safety. They’ve still got ten million. Maybe they’ll leave it there.” He didn’t believe it for a second.

“By the sounds of things, they wanted you ,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’m just the cherry on top, a way of Dmitry being able to impress his bosses. He’s big on bosses is Dmitry. Besides, you saw them back there. That’s an organization with a lot of housekeeping to do. Chances are they’ll just cut their losses.”

Who are you trying to kid?

“Or maybe they’ll come after you and the other half of the money,” said Susie, cutting right through his bullshit.

“Something tells me that we’ll know soon enough,” said Shelley. He stood as the train slowed to pull into the next station, South Quay, another smaller, gantry-type affair, not much more than a glorified bus stop.

“They’ll be here, they’ll be waiting for us,” he said. He dipped to check the platform as the train glided into the station with a descending whirr of electrics. They stood by the door, ready to make a move, but the platform was deserted. No sign of anyone, let alone their Mafia pals.

Susie went to disembark but Shelley stopped her. “No point in getting out if they’re not here,” he said. He scanned up and down the empty platform, prepared for their pursuers to spring a surprise.

But none came. The doors closed. A soothing voice informed them that the next station was Heron Quays and that this service would terminate at Bank, which was central London. If they could reach Bank then surely they were home and dry.

The train was pulling away as Shelley and Susie resumed their seats. “You think they should have been here?” she asked.

“Yup,” said Shelley thoughtfully. “They could have made it from Crossharbour to here in time. By my reckoning, there should have been a welcome party. I don’t know why—maybe something held them up.”

But what? What?

He tried Drake’s number. No reply. Maybe zonked from the booze and pills. He tried Bennett. Again no reply. Which was a bit more puzzling.

And then his phone went. He raised it to his ear. “Hello, Dmitry,” he said.

“Shelley, my old friend,” replied Dmitry, breezy as ever.

“You double-cross and then plan to torture all your old friends, do you?”

Dmitry chuckled. “Well, you saw what I did to my wife and my father-in-law.”

“True.” Shelley paused. “Look, mate, you can stop this, you know. You’ve got your ten million. Your bosses are gonna love you for that. Ten million and no heat from the cops. Come on, that’s a good day’s work.”

“Oh, Captain,” said Dmitry regretfully, “the problem is that I promised them twenty million, plus you, and the annihilation of the Regan family. One and a half of those promises is not enough. I’d like to be able to deliver them all.”

“Really? At the risk of more bodies?”

“Even at the risk of more bodies, Captain.”

“Because it’s not going to come easily,” said Shelley, “you know that, don’t you? You know who I am and what I’m capable of. You know there’s no way in the world I’ll let you take me alive, and when I go I’ll take as many of you lot with me as I can. Maybe even you, Dmitry. And I promise you this, you’re not going to get the rest of the money.”

“Oh, I’ll get it, Captain,” purred Dmitry.

“Don’t be an arse.”

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to say, I’m most disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?”

“You lied to me.”

“Go on,” said Shelley.

“The woman at the health spa. She was not an incompetent buffoon, was she? She was not working close protection for Mrs. Drake.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do, Captain.”

The line went dead.

CHAPTER 65

SHELLEY LOWERED HIS phone, wondering just how much Dmitry knew about Lucy—if anything. Could be a bluff. On the other hand, the Chechen had sounded distinctly unfazed.

“I wish I could have done it myself,” said Susie beside him, dragging him from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry?”

“Karen. I wish I could have killed her myself.”

Shelley sighed, pulled off his cap, and ran a hand through damp hair. “No you don’t,” he said, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

“She killed Emma. Or maybe I should say that she forced Emma to kill herself. She did that and then she uploaded film of it to the internet. And then, you know what she did, Shelley? She sat there gloating about it. Taunting me about it. ‘From one muvva to anuvva.’”

As the train wound its way through Canary Wharf she opened up, telling Shelley everything Karen had told her in her cell. And when she’d finished they were both silent for a long time.

That was it, he thought, his suspicions confirmed. When Emma had rung him that night it was to tell him about Karen. Everything else: the means of suicide, the single bullet, the body being moved. It all made sense now.

“Say something, David,” she prompted, her voice soft.

“I dunno,” he started, “I dunno what to say.”