To Catch A Storm (18 page)

“Alex!” he shouted, this time with an angry tone.

She poked her head out a fraction to look where the light was coming from and saw the book shelf that had taken up the end of the study was pulled open and a room inside was lit up with another desk’s lamp. On the side wall, she could see a very large golden picture frame. She studied it for a second but could not quite see what it framed from this angle. Then peered further around at the book shelf. The right hand section of the shelves was hinged. One book was leaning out at an angle. It was a big thick book with a hard brown cover.

She tucked her head back in. The footsteps came back in. He was back in the other room rooting through drawers and the light abruptly went back out and he left muttering something in Russian. The footsteps petered out as he walked away. He was muttering angrily in Russian (she guessed). Alex’s name was used several times. She had no idea what he was saying, but there was no doubt he was extremely annoyed with Alex.

After a few seconds, she came out and examined the book which was now back in place on the bookshelf. She felt it and it would not slide outward from the other books but would pivot. Once again, she could hear the two men talking at the other end of the yacht. She pulled on the book and it moved backward to a 45° angle with a subtle click, then she pulled on the shelf and it swung outwards. The space inside was another study with another desk. In fact, the inner study could have been exactly the same as the outer study. She couldn't be sure, but on first glance it was. The difference was, on the side wall was hung the Storm on the Sea of Galilee. Huge. Beautiful. She stared in shock trying to take it all in. So what did she do now? Just grab it off the wall and get it off the boat somehow? She flicked her phone onto torch and stared at the painting with the flash. It was bewitching. The detail. The colours, even though much of the painting was dark and it was set at night in a storm (obviously), it was mesmerising. It was far too big for this small study. It was meant for a museum or gallery or some large space. The people on the boat were all either pre-occupied with the figure in blue (supposedly Jesus) or trying desperately to sail the boat safely through the storm. And then there was the curious man smack bang in the middle of the picture with a pink beret staring back out at Janet. Some said this was Rembrandt who had painted himself into the picture and hung on for dear life. In front of Rembrandt was someone vomiting over the side of the boat. It reminded her how sick she felt in her stomach. Like there was a hot brick in there just curdling everything she had eaten the last day or so.

“I bet you didn’t expect your masterpiece to end up in a secret room hidden from public view did you?” she quietly asked Rembrandt. He looked confounded by the news. The painting was signed on the top of the boat’s rudder - Rembrandt and dated 1633. Suddenly she was filled with a sense that this was so unjust. This amazing piece of art was stuck here in this room for the benefit of one person when the whole world should be able to see this. And then the boat in the painting started to move toward her and her feet shifted involuntary forward to steady herself. What the hell was happening? She was so mesmerised by Rembrandt’s work that she was starting to feel the pitch of the waves in the sea of Galilee. A sudden loud, guttural roar brought her back into the real world; it was the yacht that was moving. The idiot was the taking the damn thing out. But it was the middle of the night. She left the secret room and closed the book shelf door back in and the large brown book snapped back into place. She moved down the corridor towards the front of the yacht. They were moving gently through the port passing other boats on either side.

“Bloody hell.” she whispered at herself. “You should have cut this shorter.” She went back down the corridor to the living area and was astonished to see the silhouettes of Nicolay and the other man still there. Just drinking and smoking away. So if they were there, then who the hell was driving the boat? Was driving even the right word? She went toward the front to the other set of steps and crept up there staying as low as she could but she couldn’t see anyone. She went up another level and then she could see a young man who was indeed driving. She had not seen this man before. Probably another of his employees. She went back down the stairs. Janet needed to figure out where she could hide if need be. The bedrooms had wardrobes which would be big enough to get into. Hopefully she wouldn’t need that. She had pretty much free reign of the boat for the time being.

After half an hour, the boat slowed down until it came to a complete stop. It now gently bobbed up and down on the calm sea. The man who had been driving shouted something in Russian to Nicolay who shouted something back and then continued to drink and smoke. The moon shone down and reflected off the sea almost blindingly. Well what now? She certainly couldn’t get the painting off the boat now. After a few minutes a klaxon sounded from off to the left and a yacht was approaching them. Then not thirty seconds later, another deeper klaxon and another larger yacht approaching from the other direction. Slowly the two boats pulled up alongside so they were almost touching. They seemed to be about two miles out at sea but not from Nice, they were positioned not far from some smaller coastal town. The lights twinkled in the distance in the moon-lit night.

From the bedroom, she could see a gang plank being pushed across to join the Still Waters to the flanking boat. Then deep bass beats kicked in above. Was that Swedish House Mafia? Surely, that wasn’t Nicolay’s playlist. She scooted across to the other side of the boat where the other boat had pulled up alongside and leggy women were being helped across another gangplank. She pulled back from the growing party to the smallest bedroom. She could hear people walking above her. Heels on hardwood floors. This was no longer a quiet boat. This was now becoming a very busy boat. She decided she had two choices here. Firstly, she could hide somewhere quiet and hope it all went away or secondly go and join in the party. Letting off steam seemed like a good option at this moment in time. She was hardly dressed for a party though.

She searched through the wardrobes in the lower bedrooms and underwent a five minute makeover grabbing a pair of black satin leggings and a white silky blouse. Then a pair of bright blue high heels from the bottom of the wardrobe. Manolo Blahniks of course. There was some random make up in the en suite shower room, so she topped up with blusher and eye shadow, then slicked her hair with water and gel. By the look of what she had seen, the party would be full of leggy, scantily clad women hoping to bag themselves a millionaire. Well she didn’t need to worry about that. She’d already bagged her millionaire and his cash. This was different. She wasn’t totally sure what this was. A game. An adventure. Or did she want this? This yacht? This type of money? All of the above? Possibly…

It was almost midnight now, people were coming through the living area to access the bathroom. She realised she’d been holding it in for quite a while and queued outside the loo just as a girl had gone in. Before long another girl was queueing with her and introduced herself as Alva. She was incredible looking and spoke with lazy Scandinavian accent. She told Janet she passed herself off as Swedish nowadays, but she was actually from just over the water in Riga, Latvia. She was supermodel beautiful with huge hair and high cheekbones; straight from a hairspray advert, dressed not dissimilarly to Janet with a silky blouse which she had pulled off the shoulder on one side. Her denim shorts were so skimpy and Janet would have killed for the gold, high heeled pixie boots.

“Which boat were you on?” Alva asked her with an inquisitive but friendly smile.

Two hundred and twenty four days after

Slightly startled, “Do you know, I can’t remember, they all look the same to me.” laughing, trying hard to sound comfortable and relaxed but knowing it wasn’t happening. She took a second to compose. ‘Think Lamborghini girl’ she told herself and pushed her shoulders back. “What about you? Are you a yacht type?” she asked Alva deflecting the attention from herself.
“Not really. More of a car girl to be honest. But I’m not your typical girl.”

At that point, the door to the bathroom opened and the previous occupant left, smiling at the pair of them. “Do you mind if I join?” Alva asked.

Janet thought for half a second, then nodded with a mischievous smirk. She reminded herself that this other woman was probably quite drunk even though she didn’t particularly sound it. She would need to play catch up.

“So who you with?” Keep asking questions Janet told herself, that way she won’t have as much time to question you.

“I’m with a girlfriend. I’ll introduce you to her. Although she’s after some rich douche bag like she’s on heat. It’s painful. I probably won’t see her again tonight. She does this a lot. ”

“Who is it she’s after?”

“Oh, God only knows, but believe me, he’s no looker. Just one of the yacht set that she loves to go out with. I’m glad I’ve met you. I need a dancing partner.” She did a little shimmy as she flushed the loo. “You dance?”

“Love to but I’m gonna need to catch up on a few drinks first as I’ve not had much to drink and it feels kind of like everyone else is drunk already.” She hadn’t noticed but Alva had a large glass of white wine in her hand. She poured half into a fresh upturned glass which was standing next to the sink and handed it to Janet.

“Here you go!”

They finished up and washed, then Alva re-applied some makeup.

Alva led the way to where an impromptu drinks table had been set up complete with two bar staff.

“Two large white wines.” Janet said to the younger and hotter of the two bar men finishing up her half glass of wine. They turned to face the party which now filled the two outside rear decks of the Still Waters as well as the rear decks of the two yachts which now made up the flotilla bobbing up and down gently alongside one another. It was a little disconcerting but it kind of added to the excitement.

“Cheers!” Janet said chinking her glass against Alva’s. “So what makes you say you’re a car woman Alva?”

“Oh, I just really enjoy cars. And driving. I have an open top BMW with a big engine and I love it.” She said, her eyes growing wide.

“Ooh, that sounds lovely. What type?” Janet asked genuinely interested.

“It’s a Z4 with a 3.0 engine. What about you?”

“Well I have a Porsche 911 cabriolet in powder blue metallic at the moment, but I did drive my last boyfriend’s white Lamborghini for a while which was
really
good fun.”

“A Lambo, I’m surprised he would let you drive that. Sorry, that sounded rude. I just meant that it’s an expensive toy to lend out. Most of the guys I go out with are idiots and think women can’t drive. They look so shocked when I downshift into second and throw the back end out on a corner.” she said laughing to herself.
“Well, he didn’t have a choice really!” Janet said clinking glasses with Alva once more. “Shall we try the next boat along? We can give them all the benefit of our presence.” she said with a mock posh girl voice.

Alva grabbed Janet’s hand and the two of them teetered off with their high heels to tackle the narrow gangplank that joined the two vessels. They had a glass of champagne on the first yacht and a Mojito on the second. Once or twice, they gracefully filtered out advances from inadequate suitors before ending up back on the Still Waters. Usually too old, too unfashionable or too uncool.
“Ready to dance now?” Alva suggested hopefully.

“Oh yes! Bring it on.”

They joined another twenty or so who were dancing on the rear deck of the Still Waters and the other two adjoined yachts. The three boats seeming to bob up and down in time with the music. The almost full moon providing brilliance to light up the party. The music was loud, the bass deep, the alcohol ran freely as did the cocaine and ketamine in the bathrooms. This is how the super rich partied when they grew bored of being roped into VIP areas and rooftop terraces. A private party where excess was welcomed. Where everyone was rich and no one had anything to prove. Where the music could be incredibly loud and no one would come to complain about it.
“Who’s the DJ?” Janet asked Alva.
“I have no idea but I love this track!” The sonic heartbeat boomed through the girls and off across the dark waters surrounding them.

“I can’t see my friend anywhere.” Alva said looking a little bemused. “Good job I found you, otherwise I might have jumped overboard. Don’t leave me anywhere okay? I don’t want to end up in some rich idiot’s cabin. Not yet at least!” She winked at Janet.

Nicolay walked from the bar to the seating area making eye contact with Janet. He grinned at her. He was still with the large man from earlier who he had been discussing mining with. She gave him a friendly but brief smile.

“Who’s that?” asked Alva. “I saw that little flirtation.”

“I have no idea.” Janet said shaking her head, knowing full well exactly who it was and in far too much detail.

“Well he’s got your number I think.”

“I think we need to find some younger men to dance with us and fetch our drinks.” Janet replied with little actual interest in speaking to any men this evening.

An hour later, they were sitting on the front of the boat alone. High heels were just not designed to be danced in all through the night. Alva offered Janet a cigarette, which she accepted and took a light.

“Oh it’s nice to rest my feet. I may have to remove these shoes for the rest of the night, otherwise, I might cripple myself.”

“With you on that.” said Alva.

“I just borrowed these from a friend, so they don’t fit all that well.”

They chatted about where they were staying, how long for and who with. Janet made most of her back story up on the spot, but felt she was pretty convincing. Alva was supposed to be flying back to Malmo earlier that night but had canceled after her friend begged her to stay another night and come to this party.

“I’m so glad I met you. I don’t really know how I ended up at this...” she paused “yacht party, but I wouldn’t be enjoying it if I’d not met you.”

“Ladies. I see you’ve come to find a quieter part of my yacht. It’s a little hectic back there isn’t it?” he offered a wide smile, “I’m Nicolay by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Nicolay.” Alva replied.

“Yes, nice to meet you Nicolay.” Janet chimed in. “It’s a lovely yacht you have. Stunning.”

“Oh, thank you. It’s nice of you to say. Most of the people I bring on here take it all for granted. They don’t realise how hard you have to work to buy something like this.” There was a bitterness in his tone and then he seemed to snap himself back. “What is it that you two do for a living?”

They chattered for a while at the gently bobbing bow of the yacht. The sun was heading for the horizon and darkness was retreating across the sky filling in the pinpricks where the stars had been.

. . .

“What the hell is going on here?” Charlie asked himself. He stared at the back of the stranger’s head as the stranger watched the yacht that Janet was on bobbing gently in the moonlight a mile or so out at sea. He had the benefit of a pair of binoculars which really annoyed Charlie. Charlie was the one who was supposed to be tailing her and here was this guy who turns up late to the party and so much better prepped. He could probably see what was actually going on on the boat. All Charlie could see was a cluster of lights bobbing very slightly about. When the yacht Janet is / was on left the Port, the stranger had ran pretty much at full tilt for near on three miles to keep his eye on the yacht. Heading east with the yacht, he’d ran across beaches, through gardens, scaled walls and fences and hill sides to stay in touch. Charlie had also run just about keeping in touch with him. The yacht had gone out and headed down the coast for twenty minutes before dropping anchor. Then other yachts had come out of nowhere to join it and now, Charlie couldn’t be 100% sure, but he thought they were having a party out there in the middle of the Mediterranean. Depending upon the direction of the breeze, he kept getting wafts of dance music from one or more of the boats.

He should probably text Carl to let him know the situation with the stranger but he wanted to see if there were any clues as to who he was first. Perhaps Carl might have some clues but he was worried that it would appear that he had lost control of the situation. The fact of the matter was that he totally had lost control of what was going on. He lost that the moment that stranger walked up Janet’s road in Barcelona.

Charlie put his hands on his head and turned around. He was breathing deeply with stress although he didn’t realise it. He still didn’t understand how the stranger was here in Nice. Did he follow me while I was following Janet he wondered? That would have been tricky. He didn’t appear to have a car when he’d spotted him on Janet’s street. Plus, it was tricky as hell keeping up with her. Surely there couldn’t have been a third car keeping up with him. Could there? The stranger was now sat on his backpack on a rock overlooking the sea; seemingly transfixed by the goings on out at sea. Charlie hung back out of view of the stranger but close enough so he could keep his eye on him and the yacht. He had a feeling that the yacht wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon. If at all.

Earlier in the evening, he’d had several angry and annoyed texts from Carl asking what the hell was going on? Charlie had asked him and Dan to sit tight for now. They didn’t trust him seemingly from their texts and this culminated in several calls from Carl which Charlie had to drop as it wasn’t appropriate to answer them whilst he was trying to keep a handle on events as they unfolded in Nice. His last text simply said

I’ll call you later. Nothing to worry about,

but Janet is in transit and I’m keeping close

to her. She is unaware that I am tailing her.

“Fat, ungrateful tit.” Charlie muttered and hit the lock button. He had no idea how tired Charlie was with all this work. It was bloody exhausting. He’d hardly slept for days it felt like. And now he’d missed another night of sleep.

The sky was turning into a purple and orange sheet as the sun came up to hide just under the lip of the sea. The more he thought about Janet on the yacht with God knows who, the more stressed he felt. Had some type of reverse Stockholm syndrome occurred within him? He had been the aggressor back in Edinburgh pretending to meet her by chance and then taking her trust and good nature and ripping it into tiny shreds by drugging her and delivering her to Carl. She must have been terrified and now he really regretted it. He wanted to take that back but what was done was done. He just could not imagine doing that again to anyone. Now it felt like he worried about her night and day. This was all so wrong because nothing could ever come of all this now. One thing he did know for sure was he wanted rid of Carl and Dan for good. However this played out, he needed to be rid of them. That could be tricky. A couple of million pounds meant that they weren’t going to go away in a hurry. He still wasn’t 100% sure she ever had the money. What he was certain about was how cool this woman seemed to him as he watched her from afar. An enigma. Whoever or whatever she was, she was switched on and just got on with it. She seemed to grab life by the lapels, rough it around and take what she wanted. Do what she wanted. Whenever she wanted. First, he saw her driving a Lamborghini in Glasgow. She had seemingly stolen that from Joseph. She escaped topless from six blokes in one of their cars after giving them the finger. She’d moved to Barcelona and started driving a classic Porsche. Now she’d driven to Nice for who knows what reason and broke onto a yacht that had then gone on to some weird yacht cluster party. Now how did this compare to his previous girlfriends. Not in their wildest dreams would they live their lives like this. And now he had spent all this time observing her, he wondered whether he would ever be able to go back to meeting sensible girls in dreary bars. He wanted to live his life as she did. He wanted to live his life spontaneously. Packing up and moving to new cities. Driving exotic cars. Taking road trips. Spending endless days on beaches. He wasn’t too sure he’d want to do the breaking onto yachts part. But he supposed it depended why she’d broken onto the yacht. Was there a greater prize than what she’d already taken from him and the rest of the gang? Or perhaps she was simply invited to a party on a yacht and she turned up early and decided to go onboard before her hosts arrived. That seemed unlikely, surely if that was the case, she would have awaited her host on the back of the yacht in the open area, not gone straight into the inner rooms or cabins. That would be like turning up at someone’s house and then letting yourself in and going upstairs to the bedrooms. What was she after? Was she putting herself in terrible danger? He thought there was a good chance she probably was. He decided he couldn’t just sit there all day, he would need to do something. He didn’t know what, but sitting and watching from a distance it was not. The stranger looked like he was happy to wait it out, but it wasn’t sitting well with Charlie. He set off back toward Nice.

. . .

It was now 10:30 am. Janet was returning from the loo and looked around the rear deck. The party had petered out. The majority of the party goers had returned to the two yachts they had arrived on and were either in cabins or internal rooms sleeping or more likely with the amount of cocaine consumed, having bad sex. One or two people were sleeping across seats on the decks and on the right hand boat, a young man and woman sat at the very low back deck with their feet dipped in the water and their eyes locked on one another. She returned to Alva and Nicolay. He was charming, humble (for a billionaire) and funny. Not at all as she had guessed he would be. He exuded a style that men his age simply didn’t have. It was difficult to describe it. Effortlessly relaxed, yet smart. As though he’d been dressed by Tom Ford before the party and still looked absolutely pristine even at this time of day. Yes it was probably some stylist’s job to dress him but still she couldn’t help but feel an odd attraction.