30

Ilya could see signs for the airport, Lorient-Bretagne-Sud, but he still wasn't willing to throw himself out of the car at the speed Cheng was driving. And he'd given up with the idea of causing a crash. It was too risky. Just his luck to be the one killed. His best chance was to play at being cooperative until the right opportunity presented itself. And that would not be inside the helicopter.

The car driven by Julien's parents had definitely turned off and hopefully the car that now seemed to be following them was the police. Had Cheng noticed? It wasn't an actual police car, but it had been trailing them for some time. Ilya was unsure whether there was an advantage in saying something or not. Would Cheng just give up? But what if it wasn't the police? He didn't want to get some innocent bystander dragged into this.

Cheng finally turned off the road and eventually pulled up in a small parking zone next to the helicopter hangars. Ilya fumbled to open the door but it was locked.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

Cheng asked.

"How am I going to get in the helicopter if you don't let me out of the car?"

Ilya turned to face him, saw the syringe and gulped. Cheng jammed it into Ilya's thigh through his jeans before he could even react.

"Hey! What have you given me?"

"Ketamine."

Oh God. An animal tranquilliser? Even as Cheng unlocked the doors, Ilya could feel something inside him changing, a sense of wrongness about his body, as though he'd become drunk in seconds.

Cheng reached for his bag from the back seat, then exited the car. He opened Ilya's door and yanked him out.

"Can't walk."

"Yeah, you can."

He really couldn't. Well, he wasn't going to try. Ilya hit the ground.

"Get the fuck up!"

Cheng hauled him to his feet.

Ilya wasn't sure whether he felt more high or scared. He kept blinking to try and clear his vision, but everything looked wrong, sort of fuzzy and wavy, like the worst ocular migraine he'd ever had. He thought Borsha was there too but that didn't make any sense.

"Thirsty."

I am so thirsty. Oh my God. I need water. Why am I so thirsty?

Ilya slumped again, sliding down the side of the car. Was no one listening? Maybe they couldn't hear him. Maybe they heard him and didn't care. Maybe he wasn't even speaking. Shit, this stuff works fast. He thought he could hear Cheng arguing with someone, then Cheng fell on him. Zasranec! He was heavy and Ilya couldn't push him off. He couldn't do anything and he was all wet. What was that smell? Why was he wet? Oh, not water. He needed water…

His eyes closed, but he could still see. Wow! Now he could see himself lying on the ground. How? Am I dead? I don't want to be dead. I don't want to leave Julien. He needed to keep breathing. In out. In out. Someone was talking to him but he couldn't understand them. What language was that?

Ilya felt so out of it, he wasn't sure he cared what was happening. Nothing was right, though his lungs still worked and his heart beating. A bit too fast but better than not beating. He could feel himself being dragged along, and it was hurting, then someone—oh it's Borsha—hauled him to his feet. Ilya could see a helicopter and a man standing next to it. He couldn't let himself be put on board.

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. He tried to call for help but then everything went black.

When Ilya next opened his eyes, he was in bed. Not a bed in heaven because he was pretty sure that wouldn't be how you woke up if there was such a place, though what did he know? Maybe that was exactly what happened. Huge rooms full of people lying in beds while they got their head around dying.

But there wasn't likely to be a cannula in the back of his hand if he was in heaven, so this was a hospital. He tried to check if he still had his arms and legs and other bits, all bits of him were important, but didn't seem able to move. Not good. He closed his eyes again. At least he had those. And he could close them.

The next time he woke, he turned his head to see Julien sitting next to him. "Hey,"

Ilya croaked.

Julien sprang up.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Ilya tried to smile, but wasn't sure if he managed it.

"How do you feel?"

Ilya thought about it. "Weird."

"You were injected with a horse tranquilliser."

"I might manage dressage but I'm not up for show jumping. Oh, I can make feeble jokes, I must be getting better."

"What can you remember?"

"Er… Not much."

"That's the ketamine."

Julien took hold of his hand.

"Who are you? Why are you holding my hand?"

Julien glared. "Not funny."

"If you're not going to laugh at my jokes, I'm going to get upset. Sit down and tell me everything."

"I need to let the doctor know you're awake."

"Okay."

Ilya closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Twenty-four hours later, Ilya thought he was more or less back to himself, though shocked by the power of the drug. There had been no sign of Julien and he wondered if he'd even been to see him. Apparently, ketamine could interfere with perception and cause hallucinations, so… What was real?

Ilya had made a formal statement to the police, who'd just left, telling them all he could remember from the moment Cheng and Bryant broke into the house. There had been times where he'd ground to a halt when his memory had faltered. It was weird not being able to recall everything that had happened.

Then they told him what he'd missed.

Cheng had taken him to the airport, planning to fly him back to Sandridge on Morozov's helicopter. The police already had the whole airport under observation. Borsha, although injured, had retrieved his gun and managed to follow Cheng and Ilya. He'd stabbed Cheng to death and dragged Ilya to the helicopter, where he'd been arrested. After surgery, Borsha was now recovering in the same hospital as Ilya, but under police guard.

"Is Julien at the police station?"

Ilya asked.

"He's in the corridor, waiting to speak to you."

The police left, Julien came in, and Ilya burst into tears. Julien sat at the side of the bed and held his hand.

"Shush."

"Don't tell me to shush. You haven't kissed me."

Julien didn't look around to see if anyone was watching. He pressed his mouth to Ilya's and Ilya moaned when he pulled away.

"Did you break out of prison?"

Ilya asked once he'd calmed down. "I ordered a cake with a file in it from Amazon. My God, they sell everything."

"Luckily, it wasn't needed. The plan to arrest me just for show dissolved when Ramzan and another guy confessed to everything. Their families are under protection. The police have split up all members of Lors' organisation—well, those they could get their hands on because some have slid away—into various prisons all over France and the UK. I might not even have to testify."

"What about all the jobs you did for Lors? Aren't they going to prosecute you for those?"

"My lawyer is looking for the best way forward."

"That was a waffly answer."

"I have to wait and see."

"I could eat a waffle."

Julien laughed.

"Did you come and see me before?"

"I wasn't allowed."

"I thought you did. I must have imagined you weeping and wailing and ripping your shirt."

"I did plenty of that. Though not the shirt ripping."

Ilya pouted and Julien rolled his eyes.

"I was worried,"

Julien said. "It's easy to overdose on Ketamine."

"But I survived even though I do have this urge to do a half pass and canter zig zag."

Julien laughed. "Have you ever been horse riding?"

"Yes, but never with a dancing horse. Those riders are amazing."

He sighed. "What's happened about your brother's murder? I don't suppose for an instant that Borsha will admit to it."

"He doesn't need to. The French police did some checking of their own and they have Borsha's bike on camera that night. It turns out that the cop who was in charge of checking the CCTV near the apartment was paid off by Borsha."

"Does Lors know?"

"The police told him. He seemed resigned rather than surprised. Now Borsha wants protection in return for telling the police everything. He'll get his protection until they have what they want. He won't last five minutes in prison."

"So we're fine."

"Almost. I was shot."

Ilya gaped at him. "You were shot? Why didn't you tell me straightaway? Where? Somewhere I can't see? Tell me it's not anywhere that matters."

"Such as?"

"Your saucisse?"

Ilya whispered. "Can it be mended? Stuck together? Stitched? You are so good at stitching."

Julien smiled. "My side."

He put his hand to his left side.

"But that's my favourite side."

"Why?"

"It's the side with your heart. Except I want to hug you but I don't want to hurt you. I also want to get out of here. Desperately."

"I've brought your bag. Your money and passports are in there. The clothes you were in when you were admitted aren't wearable."

"Why not?"

"They were covered with Cheng's blood."

Ilya gulped. "Eww. Where are we going to go? How are we going to get there? Do you have to stay in France while the police are investigating? Do I? Will they keep Lors and everyone else in custody? Are we safe? Is there a reward?"

"Do I have to answer all of those questions?"

"Yes! Though I've forgotten what I asked. The memory loss thing could be useful."

"It's worn off by now. And it's only related to what you experienced at the time."

"I could be an exception."

"You probably are. You are in every other way, bratkin. I do need to stay in the area for a little while. You too, I'd guess. I've hired a car and rented a place not far from Lorient. My parents' house is still a crime scene and no one can stay there. As far as I know, the major players have been charged and won't be allowed out because of the risk to others. The reward is we get to live another day."

"And it's enough."

"One more thing. I told my parents about Sébastien and I told them about us."

"That every time you see me you want to rip off my clothes and fuck me senseless no matter where we were?"

"Yes. They thought that sounded amazing."

Ilya laughed.

Finally, Ilya was allowed to leave. The money was still in his bag that the police had returned and he paid in cash for his treatment. He refused Julien's offer to cover the bill, and pulled on his coat before he left the building.

"You could make a claim for criminal injuries compensation,"

Julien told him. "You'd be entitled to get your money back."

"No. It's over and done with this way. It's my father's money anyway."

"You told me it was yours now."

Ilya shrugged. "I never felt right about that."

"Do you want to call your father? Or your sister?"

"When we're in the car."

Ilya called Lara first.

"Hi, Ilya. How are you?"

She sounded so chirpy, he knew she had no idea what had been going on.

"I'm fine. In France."

"At this time of year? Isn't it cold?"

"It's sunny today and it's been an action-packed holiday so far."

He glanced at Julien. "I have high hopes of that continuing."

She chuckled. "I hope you're not doing anything dangerous."

"Does that sound like me?"

"Pft. No. Did you want something in particular?"

"Just checking in but is Papa at home? Not abroad or anything?"

"I think he's at Sandridge. I've not seen him for a while."

"I'll try and catch him, then. Take care, Lara. Bye."

"Bye."

Ilya ended the call. "I didn't have the heart to tell her what's happened. I'll call my father and put it on speaker so you can hear."

The phone rang for a while and Ilya was about to give up when his father answered.

"Hello?"

"Guess who?"

Ilya said.

"My God, Ilya! Are you all right?"

"Do you care?"

"Of course I fucking care."

"Did you send Bryant and Cheng to bring me back to the UK."

"Back to UK? Chyort! Where are you? Please God, tell me it's not Russia."

"I'm in France."

"France? Why France? And no, I sent no one to bring you back."

"Not for money? They used your helicopter."

"Kakogo chyorta!"

What the hell. "My helicopter is in for service."

"In France?"

"No. Why would I do that in France? I have a place I use in the UK."

"Well, that's where it is. I expect the French police will be in touch. Don't be mad with your pilot. He was probably persuaded at gun point to take Bryant and Cheng to France."

"Bryant is no longer employed by me."

"Not by anyone now. He's dead."

It made a change to shut his father up.

"What's happened?"

his father finally asked.

"Bryant and Cheng came to where I was staying in Brittany. They were trying to force me to go with them, and Bryant got shot in the face."

"By you?"

"I'd have shot him in the balls."

Well, no, he wouldn't have despite what the guy had done, but…it felt good say it. "You wanted me straight and employed a monster to make that happen. He tortured me and whenever I tried to tell you, you never believed me."

"Ilya, what in hell you mixed up with? Who's Cheng?"

"The guy who asked for five hundred thousand pounds to tell you where I was. You paid him half."

"Oh him? He didn't tell me his name and he didn't get half. He just thought he did. I routed it through several offshore accounts but the money came back to me."

"Are you telling the truth?"

His father shrugged. "Why would I lie?"

"Then tell me why you wanted me out of Russia. Does it have anything to do with Arkady's father? The truth."

"I had warning that you and Arkady would be seized. I thought if I could prove you weren't gay, you'd be in no danger. But that not possible while you in St Petersburg. Conversion therapy seemed possible. It was to save you."

"But you left Arkady to his fate."

"Was I supposed to snatch both of you?"

"You could have."

"His father would have known what I'd done. Not good idea to upset wrong people. Especially men like Maxim Deriabin. Come home. I'm sorry about Bryant. I made mistake. I've brought back the contents of your flat to the UK, along with your money. All the things you made… They're wonderful, Ilya. Please come home. We need to talk."

"Find a way to get Arkady free and I'll consider it."

Ilya ended the call.

Julien took hold of his hand. "Do you believe him?"

"I think I do. If he gets Arkady out of Russia, then I'll believe him. And don't go thinking I want Arkady to be free because I have feelings for him. Well, I do, but not the sort of feelings Arkady wishes I had. He's a friend and the thought of him in one of those clinics is upsetting. I don't like to think of what he's probably going through."

"The same as you went through?"

"Maybe worse. We'd chatted about those places, but we'd never imagined it would happen to any of us. We thought we were being careful, but weren't thinking about not being able to trust our own families."

"You think your father can get him out?"

"Maybe. I hope so. If he can get all my things out of St Petersburg, then why not a person?"

"Ready to go now?"

"Yes."

Julien started the engine and set off.

Ilya leaned back with his head facing him. "Can you believe it's all over?"

"No, and it isn't really, not yet. Months of negotiation and investigation."

"Did they tell you what was in the van you drove here and what was in the vehicle you were due to drive back?"

"I brought guns over. And detonators. I don't know if there ever was a vehicle to drive back. I think telling Lors I had something more to say about the night Abrek died was what brought him to France. The English police would have arrested him, but most of his business is in France so maybe better done here. The police launched their offensive when I was with Lors, Borsha and Ramzan. Ramzan is the guy who took my car away on the transporter the night we met. Lors was questioning Borsha about Abrek when the police broke in. I think he believed Borsha killed his brother, that Abrek just got in the way when he was trying to save Sébastien. Borsha used a knife to kill Cheng. It's his weapon of choice."

"I wonder how much they'll say."

"I'm not sure there is any deal to be cut for them."

"Will we need new identities? Is one of us going to have to walk backwards while the other walks forwards?"

"Not sure yet. But we'll both be walking forwards. You'd trip up."

"Hey, who says I'd be the one walking backwards?"

Julien squeezed his knee.

"I like your mum and dad. They were really upset at what you'd done for their sake. I had to tell them that much."

"I don't regret it. I just wish I'd had the courage to go to the police sooner."

"What you needed was an incentive. A cute guy with a nice arse and amazing bedroom skills."

"I made do with you."

"Watch it! I'm the one with the smart mouth."

Julien laughed. "I can't argue with that. By the way, there's a pool at the g?te I've rented."

"A pool? Oh my God. It's been so long since I've been in a pool. Drive faster. I can't wait to get there."

"Nothing else you want to get there for?"

"Hmm. No."

He sucked his teeth. "Can't think of a thing."

Julien put his foot down.

Ilya was pulling off his sweater and T-shirt as he got out of the car. He raced around the back of the house and slammed to a halt as he looked at the beautiful pool, shimmering in the sunshine. Not too far away, the sea was equally blue. Julien came up at his side as Ilya was pulling off his—ugh—bloodstained shoes. How did I not notice that?

"Are you really—?"

"Yes!"

Ilya peeled off his jeans and underwear at the same time. "Find me a towel, slave."

"No getting in the water until I'm back. The other end is the deep end."

Why did Julien want him to wait? In case he dived in and cracked his head? Ilya headed for the far end. He was cold now and desperate to get in. Julien came out of bifold doors onto a patio holding a couple of towels and put them on a table.

"Now can I get in?"

"Go ahead."

Ilya dived. Oh shittingfuckinghell! Pidaras! Putain de merde! The water wasn't just cold, it was freezing! His head broke the surface and he flailed.

"You okay?"

Julien called.

"Forgotten how to swim. It'll come back to me. Hopefully before I drown."

Ilya had to keep moving, but damned if he was going to climb out. He began to swim to the shallow end with a fast front crawl, hoping his muscles would cooperate. And his lungs.

"Sure you're okay?"

Julien called.

"Absolutely."

Ilya tried to stop his teeth from chattering. I am not fucking getting out. Though his legs and arms thought differently. Ilya set off again for the other end with the cold sucking the air out of his lungs.

"Is the water warm enough?"

Julien walked along the side of the pool.

"Toasty. Coming in?"

"No."

Damn it. Ilya had a bad thought. Oh why not? When he reached the middle of the pool, he flailed a little, then surreptitiously took a couple of deep breaths in and out before let himself sink down in the water. It wasn't going to be easy to stay on the bottom. He might float up but even if he did, he could stay facedown for a while.