29

Ilya was on the verge of chewing his nails, and he'd not done that since he was a child. How long was this going to take? It was agony not knowing what was happening. He'd tried to hide his anxiety from Julien's parents, but they were as rattled as him. None of them could concentrate. Katherine made Breton cakes for Julien because they were his favourites, but added the incorrect amount of one of the ingredients and ended up in tears. Robert paced back and forth, while Ilya sat and tried to keep his fingers out of his mouth.

When there was a knock at the door, they all jumped. It was Robert who left the kitchen. What if it wasn't the police? Ilya went after him to stop him but the door was already open. A moment later, Robert closed it.

He smiled when he looked at Ilya. "It's done.

Katherine had wheeled herself to them. "Thank God."

Ilya still felt anxious. Until Julien was standing in front of him, Ilya wasn't sure he'd accept he was all right.

"We should call the police and ask them about Julien,"

Robert said.

Ilya agreed with him.

But when Robert tried his phone, he frowned. "That's strange. Try yours, Katherine."

She shook her head. "No signal."

Nor had Ilya and his anxiety increased.

"It sometimes happens here,"

Robert said. "It doesn't mean anything."

Ilya massaged his neck. "What if it does? I think we should leave the house."

Katherine frowned. "We were told to stay here."

"That was when the police were outside. Now I don't think we should stay here."

Ilya swallowed. "We're sitting ducks. We ought to get in your car and drive to the police station in Lorient. I have this horrible feeling that something is wrong."

"I'll get my keys."

They all went back into the kitchen.

Robert pulled open a drawer and Katherine suddenly screamed.

Ilya turned to see why and the guy he now knew was called Cheng knocked out a pane of glass in the door, reached through and opened it.

"Who are you?"

Robert demanded. "What do you think you're doing?"

Cheng waved a gun at them. "All of you sit down."

There was a bang from the front door and Ilya turned to see Bryant coming from that direction, also holding a gun, and he groaned. Bryant grabbed Ilya by the hair and slammed his head onto the table. Arrgh. Oh fuck.

"Hey!"

Robert protested.

"Not so rough,"

Cheng snarled. "We need him alive, remember?"

"He doesn't have to be in one piece."

Bryant glared at Ilya.

"What do you want?"

Robert asked.

"Only Ilya."

Cheng trailed the gun under Katherine's chin.

"Leave my wife alone!"

Bryant pulled Ilya upright again. "You fractured my fucking skull."

"Did it make you more open-minded?"

Why did I say that?

"Dickhead!"

Bryant clipped Ilya's head with his gun and Ilya cried out in pain. He put his hand to his head and his fingers came away bloody.

"Not such a smart mouth now,"

Bryant said.

Cheng sighed. "Don't make me shoot you. Leave him the fuck alone."

Bryant glowered at Ilya.

"Are you wondering how I knew where you were?"

Cheng asked. "I've been waiting for you to make a mistake. Finally, you did. You used your passport. Your father has a helicopter. One stop to refuel and here we are, about to earn a lot of money."

"What's this about?"

Robert asked.

"They're working for my father."

Ilya thought fast. The sooner he could get Cheng and Bryant away from here the better. He didn't want Julien's parents to be harmed or for Julien to walk into trouble. "Let's go then. I'll cooperate. Just don't hurt Monsieur and Madame Descoteaux."

"Where's Julien?"

"We don't know,"

Ilya said quickly. "I came here looking for him but his parents haven't seen him either." They'd get the hint. "How did you know this address?"

"Because I'm a computer genius. Same reason you have no phone signal. Take him out to the car. I'll be with you in a minute."

"We can all just go."

Ilya pushed to his feet. He didn't want to leave Julien's parents with Cheng. He'd wanted to shoot Ilya when he thought he'd seen his face, why would he leave Julien's parents alive to identify him?

Cheng stared at him. "Leave now with Bryant or I'll shoot Julien's mother."

Ilya could feel the situation sliding away. "Please. Just let's go."

He headed toward the kitchen door, hoping they'd both follow, but planning to make a fuss and run at one of them if they didn't, except he found a man blocking his way. He was a big solid guy in his early thirties with short dark hair and a thick beard.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Bryant's gun wavered between the newcomer and Ilya.

"His name's Borsha Lors,"

Cheng said.

"What's he doing here?"

Bryant asked.

This was Borsha? Ilya pressed his lips together to stop his whimper escaping. What had happened to Julien?

"I'm here to tidy loose ends."

Borsha shot Bryant in the head and he dropped like a stone. "That's one tidied away."

"Mon Dieu,"

Robert gasped and Katherine clutched at his hand.

Ilya struggled to take in what had happened. Why had Borsha shot Bryant? Not that he was complaining. Bryant's gun was on the floor but not near enough for him to risk going for it.

Cheng laughed. "He's been driving me nuts."

But the smile slid off Cheng's face when Borsha turned the gun on Ilya.

"Hey, don't shoot him,"

Cheng said. "I made an agreement with Lors. He told us where to come. We're sharing the ransom money."

"It was me you spoke to and you're not sharing any ransom money."

It wasn't any consolation that using the passport hadn't been the only thing to give him away. Ilya felt sick. What had his father been thinking? He wasn't sure which way to dive or even if there was any point. Was this it? Well, his last thought would be of Julien. His face as he— A shot was fired, his ears rang, and Ilya sucked in a breath. It was only when he saw Katherine on the floor that he realised he hadn't been shot, but she had. Oh fuck!

Except he was wrong. Borsha was the one who'd been hit. Katherine had dropped out of the wheelchair, grabbed Bryant's gun that was just in front of her and taken the shot. Borsha was down and bleeding, but wasn't dead. Ilya scrambled to his feet and kicked Borsha's gun under the fridge as Robert helped Katherine back into her wheelchair. She still held Bryant's gun and looked calmer than Ilya felt.

"You're all dead, you fucking idiots."

Borsha gasped in pain as he clutched his side.

"Well, that saved me a job."

Cheng pointed his gun at Ilya and Julien's parents. "Drop the gun."

Katherine was shaking so much, Ilya knew she'd not fire again.

"Let them go and I'll come with you."

Ilya stepped forward to block Cheng's aim. "Please. I won't fight. Don't make this worse by killing innocent people. They'll forget what you looked like. I promise. Won't you?"

"Yes,"

Robert said.

Cheng's gun was now pressing into Ilya's chest. He was relying on Cheng not wanting him dead but he could still kill Julien's parents.

"My passport's in my bag,"

Ilya said.

"Get it."

Ilya had been hoping for a chance to change the situation but it didn't come. He showed Cheng his passport.

"Put it in your pocket."

When Cheng dragged him out, Ilya didn't struggle. Only when the car had started and they were on the move did Ilya think at least Julien's parents had a chance now. Bryant was dead. Half his face had gone. Borsha wasn't dead, not yet, but without a gun and no phone signal, he couldn't do much and maybe that wound would kill him. Ilya just wished he knew whether Julien was okay.

He looked in the wing mirror as Cheng sped down the road and saw a silver Peugeot some way behind them. The car Robert had used to get him from the airport. He hoped they were heading for the police station and not trying to follow them.

Ilya thought about throwing himself out of the car but Cheng was driving really fast. Even if he hadn't been, Ilya wasn't sure he had the courage to risk the injury that rolling out might bring. Maybe he could grab the wheel where there was more traffic around. But he didn't want to endanger anyone else.

"Did my father tell you to bring guns?"

"No, but I don't work without mine. Your father doesn't want you hurt. Bryant shouldn't have hit you."

At least the guy was dead now. Though Ilya was glad he hadn't been the one who'd killed him.

"Are you working for my father or for Lors?"

Ilya asked.

"A combination of the two. When I get my money, I'm disappearing."

Cheng turned at the sign for the airport, and Ilya watched the wing mirror to see if the Peugeot turned too, but it didn't. Once Julien's parents had a signal, they'd call the police. Hopefully, they had already. All Ilya had to do was delay. He couldn't believe anyone would let a screaming guy be dragged onto a helicopter. He'd wait for the right moment, then throw a complete hissy fit. He was good at those.

The shooting had stopped. Guys were yelling and Julien could hear sirens. He hoped like hell the good guys had come out on top otherwise he might be staying up here for a while. He was nowhere near the edge but his heart still pounded. There were no skylights on this roof and no way down that he could see. He peeled up his shirt and sweater to check the damage and winced at the bloody gouge in his skin, but it could have been a lot worse. There was no bullet inside him.

He wanted to speak to Ilya, but he called Etienne. Hopefully there was no longer any need to worry about Lors getting hold of his phone but he wasn't taking any chances of Ilya getting drawn into this.

"Allo?"

"It's Julien."

"Where are you?"

"On the roof of the building to the right. I had to jump."

I can't believe I did that. He almost gagged when he thought about it. "Is it over?"

"Yes. We have Lors."

"And Borsha? He climbed down from the roof of the main building after I leapt across."

"Borsha? Damn. He must have slipped through the net. We'll keep searching."

"How can I get down?"

"I'll look for a ladder."

Oh God. Worse was to come, then? Julien had never managed to climb more than four rungs up a ladder before feeling too insecure to continue, so how the hell was he going to get down one from this height? It was the stepping onto it that he'd struggle with, having to turn his back to the drop and put his foot out and… Oh God.

He stayed sitting down while he waited, trying to drag his courage out from wherever it was hiding. And failing. When he called Ilya and there was no answer, it was something else to worry about. He considered leaving a message but maybe it was too risky. Please don't let Ilya be in trouble.

Yet, he had the feeling he was. Borsha knew where his parents lived. The police were there. Even so…

When he saw a policeman in a cherry picker rise up to the level of the roof, he almost whimpered. Was this going to be easier or harder than a ladder? Julien pushed himself to his feet and slowly made his way to where the contraption waited. Though he did stop several paces away.

"You'll have to climb over,"

the policeman told him.

Which involved getting to the edge of the roof—tricky, stepping across a gap between the roof and the machine—trickier, and climbing over the safety rail—oh God, I can't do that, let alone not panicking when or if he made it onto the platform—hopefully. Sadly, he couldn't do the majority of that with his eyes shut, which would have been his preference. He moved forward then stopped. He was as close to the edge of the roof as his feet and brain were prepared to take him.

"You're bleeding. Have you been shot?"

the man asked.

"A bullet just grazed me."

"Do you have a gun?"

"No."

"Take my hand. I'll help you."

I have to do this. He couldn't stay on the roof forever. It took more effort than anyone could ever know for Julien to grasp the guy's hand and move forward. Harder than jumping. A moment later, his foot was on the lowest rail. Don't look down. Only think about seeing Ilya. Because if you don't pull yourself together, that's not going to happen. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, Julien found himself sitting at the guy's feet, trying not to hyperventilate as they slowly descended, though the slightly jerky motion was making him feel sick.

"Not fond of heights?"

the policeman asked.

"A cherry picker phobia."

Julien was whisked away to a parked ambulance. Despite pleading to know what had happened, no one would tell him anything. His sweater was removed and his T-shirt rolled up. The paramedic treating him was thorough but silent as he put a dressing on the wound.

They think I'm one of the bad guys.

He stepped out of the ambulance and shivered, as if his body had just registered how cold it was, though as a doctor, he also recognised he was in shock.

A policeman moved in front of him. "Vous êtes en état d'arrestation."

Julien opened his mouth to point out that Lors already had him pegged as a traitor, so there was no point in arresting him, but he closed it again as he was informed of his rights and handcuffed. He had to let things unfold. Protesting wouldn't improve his situation.

Crime scene investigators were swarming over the scene, armed police were guarding it, and he could see several bodies lying under sheets as he was walked over to the police van. He hoped no cops had been killed.

Ramzan was strapped in a seat in the back of the vehicle. He had blood all over his face from where Julien had headbutted him. Julien was secured in a seat opposite. The door was closed and a moment later, the engine started and the van began to move.

"You broke my fucking nose,"

Ramzan growled in French.

"Sorry."

He wasn't.

"Whose side are you on?"

"Whose do you think? I'm in here with you, aren't I? In cuffs. I've been arrested."

This was his role. "I drove a van from England to France containing something illegal, though I have no idea what it was. I didn't look in the back. Maybe the garage opened it last night. I didn't have a key but even if I had, I knew what would happen if I did look. Plus, I didn't want to know. Being ignorant made doing the job easier. Why would I fuck everything up on the last thing I was going to do for Lors?"

"Pfft. Last? You think?"

"I hoped. Looks like that's come true in a way I hadn't anticipated."

"If you did nothing wrong, then why did you fucking headbutt me?"

"Because you pointed a gun at me. When things kicked off, it was every man for himself. You know that. If I'd been the one with a gun, you'd have done the same. I thought I had a better chance on my own, but only if I had your gun."

He sighed. "Les keufs! Salauds!" Julien pulled at his bloody shirt. "And I was shot." Much better to let Ramzan think some bastard policeman had shot him rather than Borsha.

"Did you manage to hit anyone?"

Ramzan asked.

"I have no idea."

"Say you didn't. That gun had my prints all over it. Apart from that, keep your mouth shut, okay?"

"I don't fucking know anything."

"You know enough. I saw them take Lors away in cuffs. He didn't look bothered. Not quite smiling but not far off. He probably has an expensive lawyer lined up. Even if he goes to prison, he'll still be dangerous."

"Are you prepared to spend the rest of your life locked up just to protect him?"

Ramzan gave him an incredulous look. "You think we'll live long outside prison if we talk?"

"I think I'd risk it for a chance not to be locked up for years. But I'm not much use to the police compared to you."

Was this the reason he'd been put in with Ramzan? Not just to show him he'd been caught too, but to talk him round into snitching? It was possible. Even if it wasn't by design, it was worth trying to turn him. Ramzan knew a lot more than Julien did.

"Do you have a family?"

Julien asked.

"Girlfriend and one-year-old child. You?"

"No. Well, just parents."

"They wouldn't be safe. Nor any friend. I don't want my girlfriend and daughter hurt, let alone my parents or brother."

"They'd be safe if the whole organisation came down. You were close to Lors. You know people who work for him in France as well as the UK. I doubt I'd be of much value, but you would."

Ramzan didn't answer. Was he thinking about what Julien had said?

"I'll tell you one thing,"

Julien said. "If they offered me a different identity and a new place to live, I'd jump at the chance. But I don't know enough."

"You know all the jobs he sent you on."

"But I didn't do the dark stuff. No people trafficking, no drugs…"

Ramzan laughed. "You transported drugs. You transported money for drugs. You stole from people who'd love to know your identity. One word from Lors and…pfft."

Julien swallowed hard. He decided to take a risk. "I'm going to tell the police what I know. You should too. Think about life in prison or life in the sun with your girlfriend and daughter. New lives in a place where Lors can't touch you. I think the police would go a long way to protect a source like you. Not so much for me but I'm not going to keep quiet. I didn't start this because I wanted to work for Lors. For me, it ends now."

He thought about adding, just don't tell anyone but then that showed weakness, and Ramzan needed to really think about what he was going to do.

When they reached the police station in Lorient, they were split up. Etienne was waiting in the room Julien was taken to.

"How are you?"

Etienne took off the cuffs. "You didn't tell me you'd been shot."

"I'm okay. It was just a flesh wound."

Climbing onto the cherry picker had been worse. The leap from the roof had been erased from his memory. He still struggled to accept he'd done it.

"We had a call from your parents as they were driving here. They said they left two gunshot victims in their house."

"What?"

Julien's heart stuttered to a halt. "Where were the police?"

"They'd had instructions to leave. We're looking into that. One victim was an Englishman called Bryant. The other man was Borsha."

Julien started to sigh with relief but Etienne shook his head. "The house has been checked and there was just one body. The Englishman's. Borsha wasn't there. So alive but wounded by your mother."

"My mother?"

Etienne smiled. "Yes. Shot in his side. There are limited places he can go for help without us finding out and we know what car he's driving. Good work, by the way, on trying to persuade Ramzan to turn. We'll keep trying to convince him."

"You were listening?"

Of course they were. Stupid question. "Well, he won't talk unless you have Borsha in custody."

"It's a matter of time."

The door opened and his parents were ushered in. Etienne pushed to his feet. "I'll give you a moment."

His father wheeled his mother over and Julien wrapped his arms around her, then around his father.

"You're hurt,"

his mother said.

"It's nothing. Where's Ilya?"

"Cheng took your friend,"

she said. "Ilya persuaded him not to shoot us by going with him willingly."

Oh fuck.

"We told the police they turned off for the airport. Cheng had a gun. As soon as we had a signal, we called for help."

She reached for Julien's hand. "Sit down. Tell us what's been happening. We know you were working for Lors to support and protect us. You shouldn't have done that."

"If I'd not agreed to work for him, he'd have killed you. Then he'd have found some other way to control me. I had no choice."

"You could have gone to the police,"

his father said.

"His reach is long. You'd have died if I'd done that. He set fire to the garage to show me what he could do."

"Right."

His father heaved a sigh.

"I had to…"

Julien swallowed hard. "I needed to make Lors think you were angry with me because of what happened that night. I thought it might keep you safer if he believed we were estranged."

"That's why you hardly ever came home?"

his father asked.

Julien nodded. "I told him you blamed me for Sébastien's death."

"We didn't,"

his parents said together.

"For a while you did."

His mother let out a shaky sigh. "A very short while. We were out of our minds with grief."

"You shouldn't have been struck off,"

his father said. "Of course you did all you could. You were a doctor."

"Did they tell you that I shot a man,"

his mother whispered. "I could see everything going wrong. I was closest to the gun and the least likely person to grab it. We thought he was dead but the police said he got away."

"Borsha. Lors' son. Abrek's brother. The police will find him."

Oh God, I hope they do.

"How did Sébastien become involved with the son of a man like him?"

his father asked.

So, Ilya hadn't told them. "Sébastien was in love with Abrek."

He waited to see how his parents reacted. His mother widened her eyes, his father swallowed hard.

"Did you know?"

his father whispered.

"I'd never seen or heard of Abrek until that night. I had no idea Sébastien was gay. I was shocked that I didn't know, but once I left home, we hardly saw each other. I was so busy with studying, then work. He was studying hard too. When we met up, it was just the two of us for a drink or a meal. Did you know he was gay?"

"Sometimes we wondered,"

said his mum. "The lack of girlfriends. Nothing like you."

Oh shit.

She patted his hand. "We were waiting for him to tell us. I…"

She started to cry. "I can't bear the thought that he didn't feel he could."

A lump formed in Julien's throat. "Sébastien told me that night that he loved Abrek. He wanted to hold his hand. I helped him do that."

His mother was crying. "You should have told us."

"You were so upset, so angry. I was angry with myself for not calling the ambulance as soon as I'd lost the connection with Sébastien. I swung between thinking it would have made a difference, to thinking it wouldn't. In my head, I know there was nothing I could have done, that even if I'd called straight away, it would have made no difference to the outcome. The people who decided otherwise were wrong. I'm wondering if they were coerced. One or more of them."

"Oh my God,"

his father muttered.

"I did everything I could for Abrek and Sébastien. I could have protested, appealed the decision, but everyone was hurting so much…and what would it have changed? Two young men were still dead. I felt guilty. I still feel guilty."

"You should have appealed,"

his father said. "We were disappointed you didn't. We couldn't understand why you turned away from us. Now we do. But you never even gave your friends a chance. They contacted us when you wouldn't see them. We could tell them nothing."

"We're so sorry,"

his mother sobbed. "All this time, we've been taking your money, and we would have never done that if we'd known."

"But then you'd not have had the opportunity for that experimental treatment,"

Julien whispered. "And when I look at you, doing so much better than I'd expected, I don't regret what I did."

There were a lot of tears, but Julien felt their relationship beginning to mend and he was glad that chance had come when it might not have. But until Ilya was safe, how could he feel happy about anything?

"You're thinking about Ilya now,"

said his mother. "I saw the change in your face. Thank you for trusting us with him. We finally met one of your new friends."

"My only friend."

Julien took a deep breath. "How could I risk keeping in touch with anyone or making new friends? It would have been offering Lors another way to control me."

"Julien…"

His mother was crying.

"Ilya told us you saved his life,"

said his father.

"I took him to the hospital. They saved his life."

Julien had the feeling Ilya hadn't told his parents about their relationship but had they guessed? He didn't want them to have guessed. He wanted to tell them. Now.

"There's something I need to tell you. Ilya is more than a friend. Until I met him, I'd not thought about a guy in a romantic way. But that's changed. Ilya makes me happy and I don't feel the need to put a label on why. Whatever I am, he's brought that part of me to life."

His father put his hand on his shoulder. "And brought you back to us."

"Do you think we mind whether you care for a man or a woman?"

His mother brushed away her tears. "We care only about your happiness. That is all you wish for your children. Nothing else matters."

Julien should have known how his parents would feel.

"Ilya wanted to know everything about you. What you liked, what you didn't."

She glanced at his father. "I think we understood how he felt about you. We could see it and hear it in his voice, and now we see you feel the same way."

"Thank you for telling him my most embarrassing childhood catastrophes."

His parents chuckled.

"We like him,"

his mother said. "He has a lovely smile and he's so full of energy. I hope the police managed to stop the helicopter. Have you heard anything?"

"No."

And I should have by now. Julien wasn't sure what he'd do if anything had happened to Ilya. He couldn't contemplate life without him.

"The only reassuring thing is that Ilya's father doesn't want him hurt,"

said his mother. "He told us about the tracker. What a thing to do!"

Julien really didn't want Ilya back in his father's clutches.

"What happens now?"

his mother asked.

"I don't know what the future holds,"

Julien said. "How many of Lors' organisation need to be in prison before life is safe for us? Not just me and Ilya but you too. There's a lot we don't know."

His father shrugged. "We can move."

"But the house… You love it so much."

His mum squeezed his hand again. "It's just a house. And we love you more. I'm not sure I want to go back there knowing what you had to do to let us keep it, let alone live with what happened in the kitchen. That man was…shot in the face. It was…"

She gulped.

There was a knock on the door and Etienne came back in. "I need to speak to Julien now."

"We'll go and stay with friends,"

his father said. "When you can, phone us."