Smoke and Mirrors (22 page)

They were just inside a back door of the same huge apartment building, at the opposite end of it from the club. Rodion moved through the common hall toward the front door and leapt silently up the stairs two at a time, checking automatically for cameras and security as he went, until he reached the half-landing window. It looked on to the alley. One of the bouncers was running along it, but he doubled back and shouted something out to his friend who was, presumably on the main street, watching.

Nell, who’d followed him up the stairs, kept walking until she reached the first floor flats. After a moment, he heard her footsteps running up the next flight and the next. Rodion watched the two bouncers meet at the corner of the alley, exchange a couple of sneering comments—no doubt about how they’d pound his face in and rape his girlfriend next time. Then they wandered off back in the direction of the club.

Rodion turned and looked up the stairwell. “Nell? They’ve gone.”

“Come up here,” she said in a breathless, peculiar voice he’d never heard before. It triggered alarm bells, had him sprinting up the stairs as if all the fiends in hell were after him. Or her.

He found her near the top of the building, gazing out the front window on to the street. Her notebook was open in front of her.

“Look.”

He came and looked. He glanced at the notebook and the rough shapes of roofs and buildings and spires that she’d sketched from her dream. The view was so close to what they’d seen from the attic apartment, and yet so different from just those few yards down the road. It followed Nell’s sketch with eerie accuracy.

The blood began to sing in his ears. He had to squash down the rising excitement and think. He laid his hand on the back of her neck, gently kneading the skin by way of gratitude. She shivered, and the inevitable response of his own body seemed to drag him back to life.

He pulled the hood back up over his head and looked around with double care. Ordinary locks, no obvious alarm wires, no cameras. He crept cautiously up to the next landing and found the same thing. Only at the corner of the final, narrower landing did he pause. One door. One attic flat. The door was painted a dull, wood brown like all the others, but he was sure it was made of something far stouter. The paint was a disguise. White paint also tried to disguise the several extra layers of wiring around the door, and the tiny camera pointing at the door was actually embedded in the ceiling so that only a tiny, almost invisible lens winked.

Bull’s-eye.

And such elaborate security could easily have sound. So he disguised his voice, made it higher and hoarser and little more than a murmur. “Nah. Her place has a white door. Wrong building for sure.”

And taking Nell’s hand, he ran back downstairs with her. Somehow, a sedate walk just couldn’t hold his excitement.

They left by the front door and found the green car back where it had been originally parked. As they got in, Nell said, “No music.”

The others looked completely baffled. Rodion peered up to the top of the building, to the attic apartment with the extra security. Blacked-out window. As Anna started the car and drove past the club, he followed the top of the building.

“All blacked-out attics or attics with no windows,” he said thoughtfully. “Apart from the one above the club. What if he’s got them all? Opened up all the attics between the apartment we know he owns above the club and the one we just saw? Wouldn’t the sound of the club music vibrate that far?”

Observation. He’d missed something. Something important. Some connection between the attic flat above the club and the rest…

His breath caught. “On the landing of the Bear’s attic flat, just at the top of the stairs, there’s a sort of quarter-size door in the wall. Like the kind that hides electrics or gas meters or something. That’s his way in. Or his way out, if they come at him from the other end…”

He turned and looked at his sister, whose hands were gripping the wheel like a vise, her eyes huge, shining with hope and with the inevitable fear of that hope being dashed, as so often before.

“I think we’ve got them,” he breathed.

Her sigh was shaky. “Then we need a plan, Rodya.”

“And we need it quick,” he agreed grimly. “We managed to stir up the bouncers, as you may have noticed. It won’t be long before the Bear knows how close we are.”

He didn’t say what they all knew. That the Bear could easily just have the kids killed. Like Rodion himself, the crime lord adjusted his plans to suit the circumstances, and if the kids proved a danger or he decided Rodion’s use no longer outweighed his troublesomeness, he wouldn’t think twice about eliminating children. Even children who could prove useful in the future. The Bear knew about the village. There was a limitless supply of psychic power there to tap into. So far, Rodion had managed to keep the bastard focused only on him, but if he failed to rescue his siblings, or even if he did get away from the Bear, then the whole village would be in danger from his blackmail and violence.

There was a way out of that, of course. Unfortunately, it involved pissing off the Guardian, who could ruin everything with one lick of her rigid, stubborn, fiery tongue. He had to find a way to draw her teeth, or the whole thing was doomed.

Boris said, “We’ve got a tail.”

“Where?” Nell demanded, twisting round to peer out the back window. “Is it the man in the blue T-shirt?”

“I can’t see his T-shirt, but his car is grey.”

“Let’s get the registration,” Rodion said, keying Ilya’s number on his phone. “And then lose him. Ditch the car at the industrial estate, and we’ll pick up another.”

“This sounds awfully like where I came in,” Nell murmured.

“Be grateful we missed out the police station the second time around,” Rodion said wryly.

“There’s still time,” Nell pointed out.

“I love your optimism,” Rodion said. He let his gaze drop to her lips and her breasts, just to make her blush, which she obligingly did. He smiled. “Among your many other assets.”

Chapter Sixteen

“This is serious.” Ilya greeted them with a grimness Nell had never seen before. “The registration you gave me is untraceable.”

“Shit,” Anna said with feeling, flopping down on the bed. “Just the wrong fucking time.”

“Why?” Nell asked curiously. “Doesn’t it just mean the car’s stolen?”

“Possible,” Rodion allowed. “But in Zavrekestan, it usually means secret police.”

An icy finger traced its way down Nell’s spine.

“Last night, the British secret service,” Ilya murmured. “Today, Zavrekestan secret police. Coincidence?”

Nell stared from him to Rodion. “You mean they’re working together? Surely they wouldn’t!” From the high of finding the children’s hiding place, she suddenly seemed to have wandered into a potential nightmare she couldn’t control. The reins were slipping away from her, and she’d been a fool to imagine she could manipulate the likes of Derryn.

“They would if it suited them,” Rodion said. As if sensing her distress, he laid a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “It’s all right. We’ll take it into account. But everything’s adding up to the fact that we have to move quickly.”

“Tonight?” Anna said eagerly. Nell could only imagine the emotions tearing her up at the thought of waiting any longer, now that they finally knew—finally thought they knew—where the children were.

Rodion sank onto the windowsill, staring straight in front of him. God knew what was going on in his head, but Nell hoped it was good. Fucking good, because it would have to be.

“No,” he said at last. “They always expect things to happen at night. We’ll do it tomorrow. All of us. In full daylight.”

“Isn’t that a bit risky?” Ilya asked doubtfully.

Rodion grinned and stood up to slap him on the back. “Not if we’re in disguise.”

While the others exchanged baffled glances, he got out his phone.

“Who’re you texting?” Anna demanded.

“Alexei.”

Alexei. His friend in the village. Nell began to wonder how the hell she was to go about things if he didn’t tell her what his plans were. This could all go so horribly wrong.

“Ilya, have you traced the Bear recently?” Rodion asked, keying rapidly.

“Still travelling.”

Rodion pressed Send and dropped the phone back in his pocket. “He
must
be coming here. The children were upset, behaving abnormally. The secret police were watching near his club. He suspects.”

“Maybe we should get them out before he comes,” Nell said nervously.

“Oh no. I need him to be there, or it’s all for nothing.” He leaned back against the windowsill and began issuing bizarre instructions.

“Ilya, whip us up some shit-hot, eye-catching flyers to advertise the Cat’s Eye Club—promise free entrance and a happy hour tomorrow night, plus whatever else you like. Anna, find an employment agency that’s still open, and on behalf of the Cat’s Eye Club, order five people for a performance ad, preferably dancers, but we’re not fussy as long as they’ll be in St. Peter’s Square with a simple conga-like routine by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Being Saturday, that should work well for us… Boris, we need to beg, borrow, steal, embellish, or make ten cat masks. Emphasise the eyes. I think that would be a nice touch. Dunya downstairs will help. She has clients with all sorts of strange fetishes, and I’m sure she mentioned cats… Nell, how computer-literate are you?”

“Compared with Ilya, I’m not.”

“Can you download music and mix it? Preferably something well-known and catchy and to do with cats? Put some kind of club or rock theme to it if necessary. Early tomorrow morning, we have to catch the Saturday market and buy a sound blaster.”

Anna was staring at him. “Is that our brilliant plan?” she said with heavy sarcasm. “To wake the kids up and let them make their own escape?”

Rodion shook his head. “Security will be upped now. There’ll be some kind of physical as well as electronic watch on the front of the club all the time. We need an unthreatening distraction that has them scratching their heads, and an unexpected advertising campaign that even the regular staff know nothing about seems to fit the bill.”

“Okay…” Anna sounded grudging. “Which entrance are we going in?”

“Not sure yet. This way gives us access to the whole street. We need Nell to dream some more, see how far the attic stretches to make sure I’m right that we can get in—or out—from the stairs next to the club. Can you do that?”

“I can try,” Nell said doubtfully, adding with quick alarm as he walked across the room to the door, “Where are you going?”

“To check out roof access in the other flats.”

“No!” Nell said in horror, at the same time as Anna said, “Don’t be an idiot, Rodion! If they catch you, the whole plan is blown, and you’ve already said security will be tighter.”

“Not as tight as it’ll be tomorrow when the Bear is here.” The door clicked shut behind him. Nell marched determinedly after him, but Anna caught her arm.

“Leave him,” she ordered. “You won’t be able to change his mind.”

“It must be necessary,” Ilya said, sparing a moment to look over his shoulder at them both. “He wouldn’t risk it otherwise. Not with so much depending on tomorrow.”

Nell glanced from him back to Anna, who let her hand fall to her side. “He’s right, of course,” she said. “And it’s not as if we don’t have enough to do without chasing after my
really
annoying brother.”

****

By the time Rodion came back, a heavy rucksack over his shoulder, Nell had downloaded Tom Jones’s
What’s New Pussycat?
And given it alternate backings of rock riffs and club beats. She was rather pleased with the effect, and it had already received the accolade of a thumbs-up from Anna and a grin from Boris, who sat on the floor beside the prostitute Dunya, cutting out extra cat masks and hoods while she decorated them with huge, glittering eyelashes and whiskers.

Rodion dumped the bag and sat on the edge of Ilya’s bed. “We can do it,” he said.

“We have five dancers booked for tomorrow at ten,” Anna reported. “All in matching black jumpsuits.”

“Flyers,” said Ilya, pointing to a heap of garish paper featuring the club’s name and a lot of sexy girls in cat costumes.

“And I see we have a growing pile of masks,” Rodion observed. “Great. Let’s get some sleep, then. I’ll grab the blaster from the market early tomorrow morning, and we’ll be set.”

He stood up again and swung the rucksack with him.

“What’s in the bag?” Anna asked.

“Ropes,” said Rodion. He reached down to where Nell sprawled on the floor and took her hand to draw her to her feet. “Night all.”

Nell’s already quickened heart gave a funny leap as she let herself be pulled upright. But there was something she still had to do before they left Anna. She grabbed her own bag and opened it to draw out the cuddly wolf cub she’d packed in there this morning.

“Your friend in the village gave me this,” she said awkwardly, holding it out to Anna. “To help me dream of your sister. I wanted to give it back to both of you. So she can have it tomorrow. It might help.” And if the rescue failed, perhaps it could somehow help Anna and Rodion.

All eyes fixed on the soft toy. Anna reached up slowly and took it as if it were made of china, held it softly to her cheek. Her breath caught, and she punched it, hard. “Oh fuck,” she said brokenly. “Oh shit.”

Rodion put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Then he led Nell out of the room. In the shabby hallway, he paused. “Maybe you should keep it tonight, to help you with the final dream.”

“I don’t seem to need it. Now I’ve touched it, I can look right at her.”

Rodion closed his eyes, a rare moment of longing, pain, and vulnerability that made Nell ache for him. “It’s nearly over,” she whispered. “I feel that. I do.”

His lips tugged upward into a half-smile. “No, you don’t,” he said, drawing her onward to his own room. “You just hope it, as we all do.”

****

“I should go back to my uncle’s,” Nell said.

They were still alone in Rodion’s room, and she was gazing out into the dark, sleazy street below, while Rodion sat on the bed, his head back on the pillow, his eyes closed. But he wasn’t asleep. A frown of concentration contracting his brow told her so. Besides, she doubted anyone could sleep through the demented rattling of the bed in the room above, where one of the clients was clearly determined to get his money’s worth.

Rodion had been like that for the last twenty minutes, almost since they’d entered the room, and he’d held her in his arms without even kissing her. He needed comfort, she’d realised, not distraction, and so she’d held him too, smoothing his tangled hair and stroking his unshaven cheek. Then he’d drawn away and sat down on the bed, presumably to think through everything in his head, to plan for all possible outcomes and situations. This time, he really couldn’t afford any mistakes.

“You could go home to your uncle’s,” Rodion allowed, just when she’d given up expecting a response. “Or you could go back tomorrow and spend tonight here with me.”

She smiled into the night. His words warmed and excited her but for once didn’t quite sooth her unease. She needed to speak to Derryn and couldn’t do it here.

Or perhaps she just needed to speak to Rodion. He couldn’t plan without all the facts either. It was just that this particular fact might distract him, remind him of too many things he should forget if he was to keep a clear, calculating head. Things like Irina, and betrayal.

She leaned her head against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes. “Rodion, Rodion. It’s not the time for all the things I want to say. And I don’t think I can stay here without saying them.”

She heard him move, felt his arms go around her from behind. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. “We’ve had a good day, you and I. We didn’t need to use words then, and we don’t now. In fact, I know just the thing to say.” He rubbed his growing erection suggestively against her bottom, and she pushed back before she meant to.

She turned her head to speak and met his mouth instead.

Oh God, yes, she could speak without words to him. She always had. She just had to say more, to make him understand. With a sound that was half sob, she turned in his arms and threw herself against him, opening her mouth wide to meld it with his. She slid her hands under his T-shirt, burrowing and tugging, and then diving to the fastening of his jeans.

“Slow down,” he said breathlessly, lifting his head. “I have ambition too, remember?”

“You do?”

“To get you to bed before I start fucking you.”

“Well, that’s where we differ, Rodion,” she said shakily. “Because I don’t care where you fuck me. Just that you do.”

Surprise as well as pleasure lit up his eyes at that. Then they clouded and darkened in the way that aroused her beyond endurance. “Oh, I will,” he promised, tearing off his T-shirt and reaching for her again. He took one hand, slid the other arm around her waist, and spun her in six perfect waltz steps to the bed, where he pushed her on to it.

His eyes blazed hotter than his tattooed flames, and his smile was positively predatory. “Got you,” he said softly and fell on her, grinding his erection between her thighs while he pulled up her sweater and threw it on the floor. Her bra quickly followed, and then his mouth was on her breast, sucking and teasing while his hand kneaded the other, bringing the nipple to a harder and harder peak between his thumb and forefinger with every sensual stroke.

She bucked under him, loving it, desperate for more, for everything. She held his head to her breast, tangling her fingers in his soft, fair hair, letting all the sensation of his magical touch wash through her. God, this was joy. Just this. Just kissing him, just holding his hand brought her more pleasure than orgasm with any other man.

She’d told him she loved him this afternoon. She doubted he believed her, and by tomorrow, he certainly wouldn’t. But she did, with all her heart and all her body.

She pushed at him until he rolled onto his back, with her straddling him. Then she slid down his body to unfasten his jeans fully and shove them, with his underpants, down over his hips. He thrust upward to help, and she smiled as he kicked everything off the rest of the way. She bent and took him in her mouth, and he groaned long and loud, like music in her ears. But it wasn’t enough, not for long. She sat up and positioned herself over his cock.

A new excitement she’d never known before took hold of her. She wanted him to see her pleasure in him as well as the pleasure he gave her. She took hold of his cock and ran it along the sensitive folds to her clitoris and back to her entrance. He moved, taking hold of her wrist.

“Wait. Are you on the pill?” he asked breathlessly.

She nodded. She’d never stopped it after Gordon left, as if, at first, that would somehow bring him back. And then, as she adjusted to his loss, that it might somehow bring her true love to her. Well, something had.

“Would you believe I burn off anything…unclean?” he said.

Laughter caught in her throat. “That is such a crap line.”

“I know.” His eyes devoured her. “Do you trust me to fuck you without protection?”

For answer, she pulled his hand off her wrist and sank onto him with a sigh of bliss. “Oh Jesus,” she whispered. Watching him, she sank down farther and began to move in slow, aching circles, clenching her muscles around him in long, rhythmic caresses. He matched her rhythm but made no effort to control it, just watched her in growing wonder, the flames on his chest leaping with his every move.

She threw her head back, riding him with increasing abandon until his instincts kicked in and his thrusts grew wilder. He rolled her under him, arching up to devour her breasts while he pushed in and out of her, twisting and grinding against the spot that brought her most intense delight.

Continually experimenting, they changed positions by some kind of silent understanding, seeking and finding new ways to bring different, sharper pleasures, all building toward the ultimate joy. When he knelt with her hips resting on his legs in order to reach deeper inside her, she moaned and strained with him, seizing fistfuls of sheet to hang on to, scrabbling at his powerful thighs, urging him onward until he hammered her to completion.