Tom Callaghan - A Summer Revenge

Natasha smiled, and I caught a glimpse of the woman that Tynaliev had lusted after, perhaps even loved.

“I think ten million dollars will buy me a pretty good hiding place. Somewhere that doesn’t have snow and ice or extradition treaties. And the minister’s going to be pretty busy defending himself after I send all the documentation about his assets to the papers. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up in a new office in Penitentiary One. You’ve hitched your wagon to a falling star, Inspector.”

I shrugged. There didn’t seem to be anything I could say. I realized I’d been checkmated, and all that was left for me to do was knock over my king, wondering if I’d survive to set up another game.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “If this was your plan all along, why did you give me the SIM card with the codes to take care of?”

“I knew there would be people after the money.” She kicked Boris’s body. “There always are when hot money goes missing. So I needed you as a fallback, protection if it all got too rough.”

“And a bargaining card if you needed one,” Saltanat said.

“I hadn’t anticipated your arrival,” Natasha said, “but you kept our lovesick detective’s mind from following me too closely. Little head distracting big head, and all that. Never a good rule in business.”

“I suppose Tynaliev was strictly business,” I said and watched her nod.

“I grew up on a farm, Inspector, in the Fergana Valley. A smallholding growing barely enough potatoes to keep us alive. Bartering vegetables for clothes, bathing in the cold water of the muddy canal at the bottom of the field. I saw how it wore my mother down into dust, and then my father. I wasn’t going to let that happen to me.”

Natasha gestured with the gun for emphasis.

“I used what I had to sell, and I sold it for plenty. Making all the right moans then looking adoringly at Tynaliev as he rolled over after some pretty unimpressive sex. Being the sweet and not-too-bright mistress on the side. Well, the investment has paid off rather handsomely, wouldn’t you say?”

“Spending your life looking over your shoulder, watching every stray shadow that falls across you at the pool or the beach; I suspect that ages you pretty quickly,” Saltanat said.

“I think with a little facial work, I might get away with it—” Natasha smiled “—but the first thing I’m going to do is get rid of these ridiculous tits.” She weighed one breast with her free hand and grimaced. “Maybe I’ll send them to the minister—return his presents. He was the one who was so keen for me to have them.”

I could hear sirens howling in the distance and thought of the wolves that live in our mountains, waiting for their prey to relax its guard.

“You have the SIM card with you?” Natasha asked.

I shook my head. “Back at the hotel.”

“Then perhaps it’s time we left,” Saltanat said, urgency in her tone. None of us wanted to be in the room staring down at two bodies when the law arrived, not to mention the other corpses in the rest of the apartment.

“You’re parked outside?” Natasha asked.

“Two blocks down, at the side of the building,” I said.

“Then let’s go,” Natasha said and nodded toward the door with her gun. It was then that I thought Saltanat would make her move, but she simply shrugged, and we left the apartment. We walked toward the stairwell, fast but not running, just in case there were any curious eyes watching from the spyholes in the doors we passed. We speeded up once we were on the stairs. With police on the way, it’s best not to linger.

We went out of the side door, watching the blue lights flashing at the front of the building, and then we were back in the car we’d stolen, moving slowly until we could turn the corner, and I could put metal to the floor.

From the back seat, Natasha kept her Glock neatly trained on the back of Saltanat’s head; she knew where the real threat would come from. Saltanat stared through the windscreen, saying nothing, her face marble and unmoving in the streetlights. I determined that when it kicked off I’d slew the car to the right, open my door and roll to the left. It probably wouldn’t do me any good, but it was at least a sort of plan. The problem with plans is that sometimes they don’t work, and you wind up with your brains in a sloppy puddle by the side of your skull.

Nobody spoke, but it wasn’t the sort of silence that comes from comfort and companionship. Natasha had to be wondering what her next move should be; I was wondering if Tynaliev would have my body flown back to Kyrgyzstan, and Saltanat… well, I almost never know what she is thinking, and she wasn’t great at sharing.

Finally we pulled into the hotel drive. Natasha had repacked the weapons in the bag and told me to put it in the truck. I did as I was told and handed the car keys to a waiting valet. I had wondered about grabbing a weapon and taking my chances, but I knew that wouldn’t fly. I could taste fear, like metal, in the back of my throat.

As we walked through the lobby toward the lifts, I knew that Natasha’s gun was out of sight, but I had a pretty good idea it wasn’t out of mind. Certainly not my mind, at any rate.

Heading along the corridor to my room, I thought about the banality of dying in a place like Dubai, where nothing bad is ever supposed to happen. It wasn’t that I’d never considered the possibility—no, the certainty—of death before, but I’d hoped it would be somewhere more interesting than a hotel room with en-suite shower and complimentary shampoo.

Natasha kept a couple of paces back as I unlocked the door, certainly not close enough to swing round suddenly and slap the gun from her hand.

Once we were inside, Natasha kicked the door shut with her heel, told Saltanat to lie face down on the bed, hands by her side. I knew Saltanat had a blade tucked inside her boot, but whether she’d get the chance to use it seemed unlikely. And while Natasha may not have been up to Saltanat’s standards, she was clearly no slouch either. She would have put two bullets in me while I was still fumbling for my gun.

“All right, Akyl, time to stop dancing and cut the cake. Where are the codes?”

I pointed at the desk, on which the in-room safe sat.

“Something that valuable, they’re in the safe, of course,” I said, trying for an aggrieved tone and almost managing it.

“Then I suggest you open it. And if your hand comes out with anything but fingers on the end, then you can get yourself fitted for a wheelchair.”

I tapped in the four-digit code, one four zero two, remembering once again that had been Chinara’s birthday. I wondered if my life was going to flash by me, but there was no great revelation, no moment of enlightenment. Only the sense that this was about to end extremely badly. I tried to remember Chinara’s smile, her laugh, but the fear was too great.

I reached into the safe, brought out the small wallet containing the SIM card with the codes.

“Put it on the desk,” Natasha said. “Slowly, no rash moves or cheap heroics.”

I did as I was told, noticing that my hands were shaking slightly. It was probably too late to consider a career change, but it felt like an excellent idea.

“Now kneel down with your arms folded on the top of the desk and rest your head on them.”

I obeyed, wondering if my final moment would be now. I felt numb, like a sheep dragged out to be slaughtered in a Kyrgyz mountain village.

In the mirror above the desk, I could see Saltanat, face down, her fingers almost resting on the throwing knife she kept behind her collar. I didn’t know if she was going to make the play, but either way there was going to be blood spilled.