28

Ilya wondered how little he could reveal that wouldn't lead to Julien's parents pressing for more. He was given a very large cup, more like a bowl, of delicious coffee but refused a homemade traditional Brittany pastry. His stomach was too knotted to risk eating anything. He was so riddled with anxiety, he thought he'd throw up anything he ate.

What if he let something slip about Julien being…not straight? He didn't even need to say anything. They might just assume because why would Julien be friends with someone like him? But if Julien wasn't sure what he was, it wasn't Ilya's place to tell this pair anything. Though denying they were involved was a step too far. Ilya wasn't sure he could do that if they asked.

Why would they ask?

The three of them sat at the kitchen table—well, Katherine was in her wheelchair—and Ilya realised everything in there had been adapted to make it easier for her to get around and use the kitchen. Was that what Julien's money had paid for? He suspected they'd be angry about what Julien had done for their sake.

Ilya was asked the same questions by Katherine, about how he and Julien had met, what he did for a living and about his parents. Easy questions and easy answers, especially when he wasn't pressed about being made to come back to the UK.

"Julien told me when he called that this has something to do with Sébastien,"

Robert said.

Ilya widened his eyes. "He said that?"

"Yes."

The pair looked at him expectantly and Ilya struggled over what to say.

"Stop trying to think of a lie,"

Katherine said. "We need the truth."

But could they take the truth? Ilya chewed his lip. "Julien told you he works in insurance, but he doesn't. Though in a way I suppose it is a sort of insurance work because for the last three years, it's kept you safe."

"Safe? Who from? What are you talking about?"

Robert's brow was furrowed. "He's lied to us?"

"After he was struck off as a doctor, he struggled to get work that was well paid enough for him to keep supporting you, to keep you in this house while you looked after your wife, and I'm guessing to make this house easier to live in."

"And buy us a vehicle,"

she whispered.

"Lors… You know—"

"Yes,"

they said together.

"He approached Julien. He'd lost his son, a member of his team, and said he'd pay Julien to work for him for three years so he could keep sending you the money you needed."

"He's been working for Lors?"

Katherine put her hand to her mouth.

"He has been, yes. As an unlicensed doctor among other things. But he wasn't just doing it for the money. He probably wouldn't have agreed to do it at all if Lors hadn't threatened to hurt the two of you if Julien didn't do as he asked."

"Salaud!"

Robert took his wife's hand.

"No… Julien!"

Katherine swallowed hard.

"Remember the fire in your garage? Your destroyed car? Lors' way of saying he could do worse if Julien didn't cooperate."

"My God."

Katherine was struggling to contain her emotions. "Why didn't he go to the police?"

"Because Lors would have had his revenge for that. On you. Julien has hung onto the belief that after three years, he'd be done. The three years are almost up. What's happening now is technically Julien's last job, to drive a van from London to Lorient and then drive another vehicle back. But he's not sure he's going to be allowed to walk away. So he told the police what was going to happen. Told them everything he's done over the last three years. The plan is that Julien will be arrested along with everyone else to ensure he's not suspected of treachery by Lors. And while I can't say much more, it's the reason the police are outside. They're protecting you. Me as well, now."

Katherine's face was white and she was shaking. Ilya felt terrible that he'd upset her.

"Just what has our son been doing for this man apart from acting as a doctor?"

Robert asked.

"You'd need to ask him that, though there were lines he wasn't prepared to cross. When I met him at the wedding, he'd been ordered by Lors to steal my stepmother's necklace, and return it to the man who owned it."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad,"

Katherine said.

"Since my father had stolen it in the first place, you're right. But…"

"Not all of what he's done would have been like that. He's broken the law."

Robert dragged his fingers through his hair.

"Why has he confided in you?"

Katherine asked.

"Right time, right place? After Julien saved my life, we became friends. I think he lost all his friends after what happened to Sébastien. I was there for him at the right moment. Julien didn't want me to come to France. He told me to stay in England. He found out last night that I was in Paris and he wasn't happy, which is why he asked that you collect me from the station."

"I don't understand why you came to France?"

she pressed.

"I…I felt I owed it to him after what he did for me. I know there might not be anything I can do to help, but maybe there will be. I can do very little if I'm in England."

"We have to wait for this to unfold?"

his father said. "There's nothing we can do?"

"Nothing except wait,"

Ilya said. "And maybe while we wait, you can tell me all about Julien."

Julien followed instructions and drove to the specified garage outside Caen. There was nothing wrong with the van but he'd been told exactly what to say by West and he repeated it all to a guy called Etienne, who he assumed was a policeman, which made him wonder why he had to say anything at all. Unless they were being watched and listened to? But wouldn't West have warned him?

"I'll need to phone my boss and get his agreement,"

Julien said and called Lors.

"What?"

Lors asked.

"There's a problem with the van. I've limped to a garage just outside Caen. Midas du Parc."

"What problem?"

"Let me give the phone to the mechanic. He can explain."

After a flurry of technical terms that Julien didn't even try to follow, the phone was handed back to him.

"He says he can't fix until morning,"

Lors said.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Find somewhere to park and sleep in van."

Julien groaned. "I'm tired. The van's alarmed. I'll get the garage to lock it up in the building."

"Then let's hope nothing goes wrong. Let me know when you set off. You get your overnight early. Straight back to the UK with the return load."

Julien put the phone back in his pocket. Hopefully Lors wasn't suspicious.

"Any problems?"

Etienne asked.

"No. He wants the vehicle stored inside. I'll be back in the morning."

"After ten."

Julien grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and walked to a hotel visible from the garage that Etienne pointed out. It was five in the afternoon and he was tired and hungry. He was relieved not to have to drive another three and a half hours to Lorient.

The moment he was in his room, he called Ilya.

"Hello?"

Even hearing Ilya's voice made him feel better. "It's me."

"Hello, you. Are you okay?"

"Is that Julien? Let me speak to him!"

Julien heard his mother say.

"Here you go,"

Ilya said.

"Julien, what were you thinking, working for a man like Lors?"

his mother demanded.

Merde. Though Julien had known Ilya would have to tell them some of it. "It's complicated. You'll have to wait for an explanation."

"We could have managed!"

She started to cry and Ilya took the phone from her.

"Me again," he said.

"Have they resorted to thumbscrews?"

"Progressed to the rack, but I still have some secrets. How are you? Where are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm in Caen. I'll drive on tomorrow morning."

"I'm not looking forward to tomorrow."

He could hear the tremble in Ilya's voice. "Everything has gone exactly as planned."

"So far."

"It's all going to be fine."

He didn't want to think about things going wrong, but there was a lot that could go wrong.

"I've left the room now. They can't hear. Are you really all right?"

"Hungry and tired. Safe in a hotel."

"I've been careful about what I've said, but your mum and dad are Rottweilers."

"Try not to tell them more than you have to."

"I've done my best. Oh, and it turns out I'm a baby Rottweiler. You didn't tell me you could play the piano. Or that you once got your head stuck in the bars of your cot. Or that you built a tower out of Lego and refused to dismantle it for two years. Or the time you took off all your clothes in Carrefour and—"

"I shall have to have a word with my mother."

"She's lovely. So is your dad."

Julien bit his lip. "Do they know—"

"No."

"Okay."

He felt guilty for being relieved.

"Don't get hurt,"

Ilya blurted.

"That's the plan."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Now I'm going to cry."

Julien chuckled. "Another day and this will all be over."

"I should be able to bail you out. I have a few Euros left."

"Stay with my parents until I come to you. Don't leave the house. Understand?"

"Yes."

"Take care, Ilya."

"You too. I wanted to tell you… You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, so don't let anything happen to you."

A lump formed in Julien's throat. "Be good, bratkin."

Julien put down the phone and slumped on his back with his arm over his eyes.

Before Julien went to collect the van the next day, he disposed of yet another phone. Now he had one clean phone left just in case.

Etienne handed over the key. "The destination is a paint manufacturing business."

He took out his phone. "This is the layout inside. The office is up those stairs. There's a way to get to the roof from there. Might be a good place for you to hide if things get violent."

If? But it would have to be bad if Julien had to go on a roof.

"We'll be listening to everything that happens inside the building and will have officers as close as we can get them. If things kick off and you feel you're in immediate danger, find shelter if you can, or drop on the ground, hands crossed over the back of your head. Everyone knows what you look like. You're aware you'll be taken into custody too?"

Julien nodded.

"This is my number. Can you memorise it?"

He showed Julien his phone.

"Okay."

He'd taught himself how to remember numbers, wondering if one day his life might depend upon that skill. Shortly he'd discover how this was going to play out.

The factory was in a rundown commercial area and as he drove towards it, he tried to take in what was in the vicinity, places he might be able to run to or hide. There were several vehicles and a couple of tankers parked outside the largest of three buildings that stood side by side, and that was where he headed. The structures were all dirty, years of grime staining the exterior, and all the roller shutters were down.

Julien was about to put the van next to the cars when one of the shutters went up and Borsha stepped out. Merde. He signalled to Julien to drive in. Julien was irritated, more than surprised. Except now his anxiety ratcheted up a level. He set the recording device going and drove the van inside, pulling up where he was told to.

When he stepped out, Borsha grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him back against the side of the vehicle.

"You should have been here last night."

"There was a problem with the van. They couldn't get the part until this morning."

"Then you should have driven somewhere else that could do the work immediately."

Borsha slammed his fist into Julien's stomach. Julien fell to the floor and Borsha kicked him in the ribs. He lifted his foot to stamp down on Julien's head and Julien covered his face with his arms.

"Borsha! Enough!"

That was Lors. Julien was surprised by his presence. He stayed down, breathing heavily, but did move his arms so he could see what was happening. Keram, a gun in his hand, stood next to his boss. The gun might not be pointing at Julien, but icy fingers scratched down his spine. The roller door rattled down and made him jump. Lors was jabbering to Borsha in Chechen and Julien took the opportunity to look around.

The place didn't look as if it was manufacturing anything at that moment, though it smelt of paint, was spattered with paint so that it looked like some 3D art installation. There was a large amount of equipment: numbered hoppers, pallets of compound, containers of liquid, hundreds of silver cans, forklift trucks… Overhead were several open-tread gantries to give access to the hoppers, and Julien swallowed hard. Oh God. There was no way he could walk along those.

"Get up,"

Lors ordered in French.

Julien pushed to his feet, not liking the tone of his voice.

"Upstairs,"

Lors ordered.

What have I done wrong? The van was already being unloaded but Julien didn't look back.

Ramzan was there too and led the way to a staircase up to an office on stilts that Etienne had mentioned. Presumably from that higher point, the whole work area could be observed. It was spartan inside, just filing cabinets, a desk and a few chairs. There were skylights overhead. That's what Etienne meant?

"Sit down,"

Lors said. "You too, Borsha."

Julien put everything he had into not giving away how nervous he was. Would Lors confront Borsha about Abrek? His already racing heart clipped to a higher speed.

"We're going to have a little chat,"

Lors said in English. "What you think about homosexuals?" He looked at each of them in turn, then settled on Ramzan.

"Filthy perverts,"

Ramzan muttered. "Not natural."

Julien could feel goose bumps erupting all over his body. Did they know about him and Ilya? He let his gaze wander around the room checking for possible weapons. Though what could he use against a gun? Only another gun.

"Julien?"

"I think people should be allowed to be what they are without discrimination or abuse. Sexual orientation isn't a choice, it's just the way people are made."

"You sound like politician,"

Lors said. "Have you always thought that?"

"Yes."

Lors raised his eyebrows. "But you didn't know your brother was gay?"

"No."

"Why didn't he tell you?"

"I don't know. It hurts that he didn't. Maybe he thought our parents wouldn't be accepting. Maybe he'd only just realised and was sorting out in his head how he felt. I'm sad he didn't feel he could talk to me."

"What would you have said to him if he had?"

"I'd have hugged him, told him he was still my brother and that I loved him and would support him."

Lors turned to Borsha. "And you?"

"Filthy scum. They weaken the country."

"That's what you'd say to Abrek if he was here?"

Lors asked.

"What does Abrek have to do with this?"

"Something was brought to my attention,"

Lors said. "Julien's brother and Abrek were in a relationship. Did you know?"

Borsha made a dismissive sound. "Impossible. Lies told by this man who's fucking Ilya Mozorov."

Julien's internal organs began to liquifying, so did his bones. Oh God. He knew that wasn't possible, but he felt as if that was what was happening.

"I saw you in Deal."

Borsha fluttered his tongue in an obscene way.

Was that true? Or was he guessing? Keep calm! "And you concluded that because I no longer wanted to fuck Veronique?"

There was a bang on the door and Ramzan opened it. Keram whispered something to him and the guy swore.

"What is it?"

Lors asked.

"Someone's been in the van,"

Ramzan said.

Oh fuck.

All faces turned towards Julien.

"Not me. I didn't have a key."

"You took to safe breaking with no trouble,"

Lors said.

"But I don't know how to get into a van without a key."

Oh God. Julien could feel the situation starting to unravel.

"Let me see the vehicle,"

Lors said. "Keep him in here."

Borsha left with his father and Keram. Ramzan pointed the gun at Julien. I need the police to come right now! Should he press the alarm in his pocket?

"Keep your hand out of your pocket!"

Ramzan yelled.

"I hadn't even moved."

Though he had.

"You're in trouble,"

Ramzan said.

"All I've done is drive the van. How would I get in the back?"

"As Lors said, you're good at getting into things you're not supposed to."

They both jumped at the sound of the roller door moving up, which was accompanied by shouting and a burst of gunfire. Ramzan took a step towards the window and Julien sprang to his feet. As the guy turned towards him, Julien headbutted him on the bridge of his nose. Blood exploded from his nostrils and he staggered back, dazed. Julien managed to pull the gun from his hand and pointed it at him. "Get downstairs."

As Ramzan hurried down, Julien slammed the door and looked for something to block it. He jammed a chair under the handle and climbed onto the desk. It looked like he was going onto the roof whether he wanted to or not. Shots were still being fired down below and the roof would be a safe place to hide until this was all over.

He took the gun with him, pushed open the skylight and clambered up, closing the exit behind him. Thankfully, he was well away from the edge of the roof, but his heart still pounded. He kept low and scuttled over to crouch behind one of the many ventilation ducts. Shots were still being fired inside and outside the building, and there was a lot of shouting and yelling. He wasn't going back inside until he knew it was safe. He'd not forgotten that he was supposed to be arrested, but he was pretty sure Lors had already decided he'd messed around with the load. And if Borsha had been in Deal and taken photos, Lors knew about Ilya. He was not a man who tolerated being lied to.

Julien froze when he heard the sound of someone moving on the roof. It could be the police up here with him but he didn't think so. He'd not made a noise. He wasn't sure he was even breathing, but something was making his skin crawl.

Borsha ran past him holding a gun and Julien mentally groaned. He must have come back to the office and used the same exit as him. So much for him barring the door. But Borsha was a big tough guy. One kick would probably have opened it. So where was he going? To a fire escape? Julien wished he'd looked for that before he'd hidden, though he'd have had trouble climbing down. All he needed to do was keep still and wait.

"Put the gun down, arsehole."

Merde! Borsha had doubled back and snuck up behind him.

"Drop it and stand up!"

Julien put the gun down and pushed to his feet. Borsha moved round to stand in front of him. Why he hadn't Borsha just shot him in the back? The guy hated him enough.

"You are such a shit. I told my father we should have killed you."

"I saved your life."

"But not my brother's. Time to run, rabbit."

"What?"

Julien managed to ask. Run where?

"Jump off roof before I shoot you. Maybe you survive, you treacherous fuck. I hope you end up paralysed from the neck down and for the rest of your life, you think about how you got your parents killed."

Oh God. It was the incentive Julien needed. He ran straight for the edge of the roof, trying not to think about what he was doing. He'd seen how close the next building was when he'd driven up. But was it close enough?

Julien imagined it was sports day at school and he was in the long jump. He'd been good at it. He couldn't hesitate. There was no second chance. Don't look down. He reached the edge of the roof, put one foot on the concrete ledge and leapt out into the air, cycling his legs to get more distance. Shit.

Not as near as I thought. That was all that went through his head as the lower roof of the adjacent building rushed towards him. He bent at the waist, put his feet together, and as he landed, bounced into a roll. Fuck, that hurt. He didn't wait to see if he was injured. He expected a bullet to hit him at any moment as he half-crawled, half-scuttled to hide behind another ventilation duct. Oh God, my heart.

When he risked a glance, he saw Borsha climbing down a ladder on the other building. Why hadn't he just shot him once he'd seen he'd made it? Maybe he hadn't wanted to give away that he was on the roof. There didn't seem to be any way down from where Julien was situated but if Borsha got away, his parents would be in danger. He pushed to his feet and saw blood pouring from his side. Fuck. I've been shot.