Stephen Leather - True Colours

‘You weren’t there. You don’t understand.’

‘I was there!’ shouted Monotok. ‘That’s the point! I was there!’

He took a step forward. The hand holding the torch was shaking and the beam swept back and forth over Grechko’s pale body.

‘I was in bed when you came to our house. It was the day before my birthday and I couldn’t sleep. Do you remember the house, Grechko? The house of Mark Luchenko? Do you remember him? And what about my mother? Misha? Do you remember Misha Luchenko? You should do because you raped and killed her.’

Shepherd moved as quickly as he could in the darkness. He was coming up to a junction in the hallway, he knew that much. The pool room was to the right. Storage rooms to the left. The light from his phone was next to useless and didn’t even reach his feet but it allowed him to see part of the wall, which was enough to keep him moving in a straight line. He wanted to talk to Popov to see what was happening upstairs but he couldn’t now that he knew that the killer had a transceiver. He didn’t want him to know that he was heading for the pool room.

Monotok took a deep breath. He knew that the longer he spent talking the harder it would be for him to escape, but he didn’t care any more. He had devoted the last four years of his life to getting his revenge, and Grechko was the final piece of the puzzle. He wanted Grechko to know why he was dying and who was killing him. ‘I heard you and Zakharov and Czernik and Buryakov come into the house. I heard you shouting at my father, telling him to sign the papers that would transfer the steel plant over to you. I crept out of my bedroom and looked down from the top of the stairs. Do you remember now, Grechko? Mark and Misha Luchenko?’

Grechko had begun to shiver, either through fear or the cold. Either way, Monotok didn’t care.

‘At first my father refused. He said it wasn’t his to give away, but you knew how it worked, back then. Nobody really knew who owned what. Before 1990, the state owned everything. And the local party officials and the police could be paid off. If you had the right paperwork, it was yours. That’s what the four of you were doing, back then. You stole steel plants, trucking companies, ships, buildings, factories. You took by force and you killed if you had to.’

Monotok waved the knife in front of him. ‘Look at me, Grechko. Look at me now or I swear to God I’ll slice off your balls and shove them in your mouth.’

Grechko raised his eyes and stared at him. There was no fear in his eyes, just hatred.

‘I saw you rape my mother, Grechko. And only then did my father sign your papers. Then you killed him. And then you killed her. And I had to crawl away and hide under my bed until you’d gone.’ He gritted his teeth and shook his head angrily. ‘You took my father’s plant. You killed his deputy, too. You gave it to Czernik and within five years how many plants did he have? Ten? Twelve? All of them stolen. That’s how you got your start, all of you. You threatened and you killed and you stole and by the time the millennium rolled around you were all billionaires. Did it make you happy, Grechko? All that money? Knowing how you got it? Knowing that it’s going to be the death of you?’

Grechko said nothing. His shivering had intensified.

Monotok stepped towards Grechko, holding the knife low. He didn’t want the first blow to be a killing one. Or the second. Or the third. He wanted him to bleed out slowly. And painfully.

Shepherd pressed his thumb against the scanner and tapped out his four-digit security code. The door clicked and he gently pushed it open, just an inch or two. The only sound was the hum of an air-conditioning unit and the gentle lap of the water against the side of the pool. He pushed the door open a little more. The darkness was absolute. He pushed the door further and stepped inside.

As soon as he heard the lock click, Monotok switched off his flashlight and put it and the knife on the lounger. He pushed the night vision goggles on and turned to look at the door, just as the man stepped into the room. He was in his late thirties and wearing a shoulder holster. In his right hand he was holding a mobile phone and the screen glowed weakly.

Monotok picked up his gun and pointed it at the man, his finger tightening on the trigger.

‘He’s got a gun!’ screamed Grechko in the darkness.

The man crouched, dropped the phone and reached for the gun in the holster but Monotok had all the time in the world to aim and pull the trigger twice.

The man staggered to the side and fell into the pool with a loud splash.

Monotok grinned. He took off the night vision goggles and put them and the gun back on the lounger. He picked up the flashlight and switched it on. He panned the beam around and found Grechko, crouched like a frightened animal with his back to the wall, as naked as the day he was born.

He bent down and picked up the knife. ‘Now where was I?’ he said. ‘Before we were so rudely interrupted.’ He smiled. ‘Ah yes, now I remember. I was about to kill you.’

Shepherd’s eyes were stinging from the chlorine in the pool and he blinked several times. The pool wasn’t much more than six feet deep and his feet brushed the bottom. The vest had done its job but he still patted his chest with both hands to make sure that neither of the bullets had penetrated.

The Glock was still in its holster, his fingers hadn’t even touched it before the rounds had hit him. They had been two good shots. One just above the heart, one below it. If it hadn’t been for Amar Singh’s vest, Shepherd would have died instantly.

He wafted his arms up to drive himself down to the floor of the pool, then pulled the Glock out with his right hand. The gun would still fire, he knew that there was no way that water could get into the cartridge. The only danger was if the barrel was full of water when he pulled the trigger. He kept the barrel of the gun pointed down as he braced his feet against the bottom. He would only get one chance at this so he had to get it right. He moved his left hand across to support his right around the butt of the Glock, then pushed down hard with his legs.

His mind was totally focused on what he needed to do. He had to keep the barrel down until it was in the air. He had to aim in the general direction of the killer. If the torch was back on he could make the first shot a killing shot. If the pool room was still in darkness then the first shot would have to go high and in the light from the gun he’d see the target and his memory would have to help him go for the kill with the second.

He powered up through the water and burst through the surface, his eyes wide open. He brought up the gun. The torch was on, illuminating Grechko, who was curled up against the wall, covering his face with his hands. The killer had his back to Shepherd, outlined by the light from the torch.

The killer started to turn at the sound of cascading water but Shepherd had already started to pull the trigger. The first shot hit the man right between the shoulder blades. The second was a few inches lower. Shepherd managed to get off a third shot, catching the man at the base of his spine, before he crashed back into the water.

He kicked with his legs and swam to the ladder to climb out. He crawled over to the torch and picked it up. The man he’d shot was lying face down on the floor, blood pooling around his chest.

The knife was by his side and Shepherd kicked it away and then put his Glock back in its holster.

The emergency light by the door flickered into life. Popov must have fixed the circuit, but the main lights stayed off.

Grechko got to his feet and wrapped his towel around his shoulders. ‘You killed him,’ he said quietly.

He was in shock, Shepherd knew. But there was nothing he could do for him, right now. He put his hand to his earpiece but realised it was missing.