Rafi had had enough.
Kate walked over and gave him a hug. ‘Let’s get some rest. I’m no longer needed here.’
‘Fine by me,’ replied Rafi.
‘I’m afraid it’s time for normality to resume. No more chauffeur-driven cars. How about I get us a taxi?’
Rafi nodded. Fifteen minutes later they picked up an evening paper and got into the black taxi waiting for them. The February evening was bleak and cold.
‘Where to?’
‘Clapham, please,’ answered Kate.
‘The traffic is awful – it could take a while.’
‘No problem,’ Kate looked at Rafi. ‘Is it OK if we pick up our stuff from the Savoy tomorrow? I hope you don’t mind, but I rang the hotel and told them that they can let someone else have our room.’
Rafi smiled at her. ‘What else have you been up to?’
‘Oh, there’s one other bit of news,’ she grinned. ‘As of now, I’m sort of on holiday. I’ve been ordered to spend two weeks helping you convalesce!’
Rafi smiled, ‘that’s the best news I’ve heard in ages.’
‘And it gets better. I thought you might like to get this back,’ she said, passing him his wallet and personal effects from Paddington Green.
‘Thank you. I can now pay for Luigi’s and the hotel suite. And I can do some clothes shopping.’
Kate gave him a big hug. ‘That sounds like fun – I hope I am included! By the way, how did you get on with the hotel in Cornwall?’ she enquired.
‘They have found a small suite for us. I told them we would be arriving tomorrow, early afternoon and staying between ten days and a fortnight,’ replied Rafi.
Kate curled up against him on the back seat.
‘So much for me going out with a butch police officer,’ he whispered into her ear.
‘Don’t be silly,’ came the soft reply. ‘They employ me for my brains and not my body!’
As the taxi approached Clapham, on Kate’s say-so, it turned into a tree-lined street off the Common and pulled up in front of a red brick terraced house.
‘Home sweet home,’ beamed Kate as she joined Rafi after paying the driver.
‘Come on, let’s get inside, it’s freezing cold out here.’ Kate unlocked the front door and they entered a small communal area, with two front doors. ‘Mine is the upstairs flat.’ There was a clunk as she unlocked her front door.
‘Good lock,’ Rafi commented.
‘Yes; you never know who might come calling.’
Inside, on the mat, was a pile of mail – most of which looked like junk. Kate scooped it up and headed upstairs. Her flat comprised a sitting room, a small kitchen, a cosy bath room and a good-sized double bedroom at the back of the house. The place felt like a deep freeze.
‘Is your central heating not working, by any chance?’
‘Sorry. I turn the thermostat down when I go out. Don’t worry, it’ll soon get warm.’
Kate scurried around – closing the curtains and lighting the gas fire in the sitting room before heading off towards the kitchen.
Rafi joined her and they stood there waiting for the kettle to boil. ‘Long-life milk, I’m afraid. Sugar?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Come on, follow me – let’s get warm.’ Instead of going towards the sitting room, Kate turned right and headed for her bedroom.
It was a friendly looking room; simply furnished. In the middle of the wall, facing the window, was a large double bed. Kate placed Rafi’s mug of coffee on one bedside table and hers on the other. He looked across at her, wondering what exactly she was going to do next. She slipped off her shoes, stripped off her coat and hopped fully clothed into bed.
‘It’s cold in here – I could do with your body heat to warm me up,’ came the suggestive but gentle request.
Rafi sat on the side of the bed and took his coat and shoes off.
‘Come on, I’m freezing!’
He climbed under the duvet. Kate was right – the bed was freezing. Rafi moved over to her side and snuggled up. She wrapped her arms around him; her gorgeous eyes were inches away from his. He lay there staring into the sparkling deep brown colours, savouring the warmth of her body next to his. She moved forward and kissed him softly on the lips. He was in heaven.
‘If it’s alright with you, I thought we could have something from the freezer for supper and spend the evening in bed. How’s the coffee, by the way?’ asked Kate.
Rafi hadn’t touched it yet. He moved back to his cold side of the bed, took a couple of mouthfuls and returned to her warmth. He lay there thinking – what a long time it had been since he’d had a girlfriend… And he had known Kate scarcely a week! What were things coming to? Rafi felt happier than he could remember.
‘Tell me about the hotel we’re staying at,’ asked Kate.
‘It’s just outside Newquay. It’s got four stars and overlooks the Atlantic Ocean.’
‘Did you say the bedrooms were nice?’ enquired Kate.
‘Yep.’
‘And?’
‘They have big, comfy beds!’
‘Just what the doctor ordered,’ replied Kate, who snuggled closer to him.
The proximity of her body, which was now nestling partly on top of him, made it difficult to concentrate. He wondered what she was going to do next. She leant forward, gave him a lingering kiss on the lips and wriggled her body. The effect was electric. She kissed his cheek and, to his disappointment, rolled off him and slipped out of bed.
‘Why don’t I rustle up some supper?’
He watched her slim figure disappear out of the room and lay there enjoying the warmth of the bed and the anticipation of things to come. This was the first time for a long while that he had felt relaxed, comfortable and truly happy.
Kate reappeared a few minutes later, clutching another cup of hot coffee. ‘I guessed you wanted to stay warm.’ She left again leaving him to his drink and thoughts. Rafi sipped at it, savouring its warmth. After several minutes he got up, and went to see what Kate was doing. The temperature in the flat had returned to a comfortable level now. He looked around him as he walked down the corridor to the kitchen and sitting room. The place was small, but homely. It was very different to his flat in Hampstead. On reflection, he came to the surprising conclusion that he preferred it. This place had the essence of Kate and that made it special.
He walked into the kitchen.
‘The pizza will be ready in about twenty minutes; sorry, the oven takes ages to get hot. In the meantime, I’m going to have a bath. I’d invite you to share it with me, but we would get stuck – it’s rather small. The sitting room is nice and warm now though. Perhaps the news might be worth listening to?’
Rafi turned and went into the sitting room. He picked up the remote controls and switched on the television. He eventually found the 24-hour news channels and flicked through them. On the first one he saw a photo of himself and heard the reporter saying: ‘Mr Rafi Khan has been instrumental in enabling the police to catch the terrorists…’
Rafi flicked to another channel. CNN was running a bulletin on the money markets and the American commentator was interviewing a foreign exchange trader who was describing the day’s trading.
‘Been quite a day! That British Finance Chancellor caught us on the hop. We thought Sterling was going to be a one-way bet down through the floor, but when we found out that our Fed, the ECB and the Central Banks of China and Japan – to name but a few – were piling in to support Sterling, we knew that the speculators were beaten. And as if that wasn’t enough, the British Finance Minister then found a couple of hundred billion pounds without tapping the bond markets. And then he set out how the?1,100 billion unfunded public sector pension deficit will be tackled… The currency markets have given up the fight. The steam has literally gone out of trying to short Sterling. It’s been quite a day; one I’ll remember for a long time!’
The TV interviewer switched across to a stockbroker. ‘Tell us, Irvine, about these new UK Government REITs.’ Rafi listened to Irvine tell his American audience how it was the US who had created the Real Estate Investment Trust structure some decades ago. His view was that the UK Government had done something that some saw as brave, while many others looked at it thinking, ‘Gee, why on earth haven’t we done that?’
Before being cut off by the interviewer, the broker gave a throwaway remark that made Rafi first smile, then chuckle, ‘What has captivated us is this new UK not-for-profit corporation: like a public company but controlled by custodianholders -the people – and not shareholders. The change in accounting methods alone will bring huge efficiency gains. It’s a great idea and will knock the stuffing out of our game theory junkies; hats off to the UK Chancellor!’
‘What are the prospects for tomorrow?’ asked the interviewer.
‘It should be business as usual,’ came the reply.
The cameras panned back to the interviewer in the CNN studio.
‘Well, there it is! An extraordinary day on the money markets; the UK currency and its economy seem set to fight another day. Who would have thought it? It’s a big surprise. Tomorrow the world’s eyes will be on the reopening of the UK financial markets. The omens look good, but who knows? Will the London Stock Market hold its nerve or will it be a bloodbath?’
The timer in the kitchen started bleeping. Rafi switched off the TV. Kate was still in the bathroom.
‘The bleeper’s gone, what should I do?’ Rafi called out.
‘Could you see if the pizza is cooked? If it is, could you put it in the top oven to keep it warm?’
‘Will do,’ Rafi replied as he went back into the kitchen. Its size suddenly struck him; it was a fifth of the size of his. Small it might be, but nevertheless it worked well – like Kate, he thought to himself.
The pizza was cooked. He opened the tin of baked beans which he found on the side and poured them into a saucepan. How long had it been since he’d had baked beans? Ages. Probably university, he thought. With his larger than average salary his diet had gone somewhat upmarket. He gave the beans a stir.
Rafi’s mind wandered and he found himself wondering what a young detective inspector might earn. Probably little more than a university research fellow, he guessed. It then dawned on him that, following the events of the last few days, he was effectively unemployed.
At that same moment his thoughts took another turn. He smelt a sweet fragrance. This was followed by a sexy hug from behind.
‘A penny for your thoughts?’
‘Oh, it’s just dawned on me that I’m out of work.’
‘That’s good news! Now you can do something worthwhile, and not just because it pays handsomely. You know, when I saw your bank statements I could hardly believe what a fund manager was paid. On average, you were earning more in a month than I earned in a year. Though, I suppose that those of us protecting Queen and Country do it for the job satisfaction, and to eat baked beans rather than caviar! How’s supper coming along?’
‘Pizza is cooked and the beans are hot.’
‘Why are we standing around?’ Kate had two trays quickly laid. ‘Water or orange juice? No good offering you wine or a G amp;T, is it?’
‘Orange juice would be great.’
‘Do you mind if I have a glass of wine?’
‘Not at all.’
In the sitting room, Kate put her tray on the floor in front of the gas fire and pulled across a small coffee table from alongside the sofa; she then lifted her tray on to the table and sat down cross-legged. Rafi looked down at her; she was wrapped in an old, fluffy pink dressing gown, with a nondescript towel wrapped tightly around her head – but she looked gorgeous.
Rafi sat on the sofa and felt the warmth of the fire. He tucked into the food – it tasted good. He watched Kate open a bottle of wine, fill her glass and sip at its contents.
She caught him watching her. ‘Have you ever drunk alcohol?’
‘Not really. My parents, well my mother in particular, were strict Muslims and I grew up in a teetotal household. I suppose it was at university that I decided not to drink. I saw too many people getting smashed for no good reason, which really put me off.’
The conversation switched to their journey to Cornwall. Kate was amused to find that he didn’t have a car. ‘How about I drive and you pay for the petrol…? Deal?’ asked Kate.
‘But remember I’m unemployed!’ chuckled Rafi.
‘Yes, but thankfully you have a bank balance which should tide you over for a year or three.’ She yawned. ‘Sorry, I have been surviving on catnaps for the past few days. If I stay up much longer, I won’t be able to see straight, driving down to Cornwall tomorrow.’
There was a lull in the conversation which was soon broken by Rafi. ‘Would you mind if I went and showered?’ he asked.
‘Good idea. I’ll clear up. Would you like a cup of coffee?’
‘More orange juice would be nice, please.’
‘I’ve put a spare towel on the chair in the bathroom. It looks old but it should be OK, I hope.’
He saw what she meant. The towel had definitely seen better days. He picked it up and was surprised to find that its shabbiness belied its softness. Definitely fit for purpose, he thought.
Rafi shed his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. His wrist still looked puffy and badly bruised. It was still an angry purply-blue colour. He’d got rid of the bandage as it had become the object of too much attention. From what he could see, his back boasted some seriously impressive bruises, but thankfully they all looked far worse than they now felt.
The shower cubicle was compact. At the third attempt he worked out how to get in and turn the water on without wetting the floor or getting dowsed in very hot or very cold water. He stood there, enjoying the warm water splashing over him. He looked around for some shampoo, washed his hair and picked up the bar of soap. It smelt of exotic eastern fragrances – very feminine. He gave himself a good scrub from head to foot, rinsed off the soap suds, turned off the shower and stepped out into a steam-filled room. He dried and walked out into a dark corridor with the towel around his waist.
He could see a small strip of light coming from under Kate’s bedroom door and headed for it. Slowly, he opened the door. Kate was sitting in front of her dressing table looking into the mirror. She turned and looked at him. Her tired, freckled face was devoid of make-up -; she still looked lovely.
He walked over to his side of the bed, shed his towel and climbed in.
‘I’ll be with you in a moment,’ she said and with that the light on the dressing table went off. The room was now only lit by the small light on her bedside table. She walked over to the door, unwrapped the towel from around her head, took off her dressing gown and hung them both on the back of the door.
Rafi lay in bed spellbound. The curves on her slim body were accentuated by the soft lighting. She turned her head and caught him ogling at her naked behind.
She slowly stepped backwards, then sideways. He felt his pulse race. She had a great body.
‘Do you like?’
He was captivated. ‘Yes, very much!’ he eventually added.
‘Flattery will get you everywhere.’
Rafi watched as she climbed into bed. She turned off the light, disappeared under the duvet and came up for air with her head on his chest. The curtains were drawn but small shafts of dappled light came in around the edges from the lights outside. She slowly moved up and kissed him. ‘I’m a very lucky girl…’ Her voice trailed off as she sat up, letting the duvet slide off her shoulders. She ran her finger tips across his exposed chest. His body twitched, as inch by sensual inch she drew imaginary patterns on his torso. He gazed at her lovely face framed by a mass of silky hair.
Kate lent forward and kisses followed the lines her fingers had taken, lingering along the way at his small dark nipples. Little electric shocks raced through his body. Her fingers, meanwhile, had moved on with their gentle caresses.
Rafi was in seventh heaven. He felt her kisses gradually move back up his chest to his neck and the hollow beneath his right ear.
‘When I first laid eyes on you a week ago, in my wildest dreams I’d never have guessed that you and I would get this close.’
Rafi awoke to the sound of light-hearted singing coming from the kitchen. Kate’s dressing gown was no longer on the back of the door. He sat up and looked around her bedroom.
The door opened quietly. Kate slowly put her head around it. ‘Oh, good, you’re awake. I wondered when you were going to come around. I’ve got a cup of black coffee for you. Thought you could do with a caffeine boost. Did you sleep well?’
Rafi smiled and nodded as she came to sit next to him.
‘I’ve finished packing. I didn’t know what I’d need so I’m travelling light; a good excuse for some shopping. And I’ve rung the Savoy and they said all our belongings are packed up and ready for collection. And some good news: MI5 have spoken to the hotel and asked for the bill to be sent to them. They left you a message: Thank you and sorry we roughed you up.’
Rafi grinned and sipped at his hot coffee. Kate leant over and gave him a kiss.
‘How long do you need to get ready?’
‘Would fifteen minutes be OK?’
‘Great. I thought that we could eat brunch on the way.’
Kate’s car was a small, old-looking, Volvo. She drove through the London traffic quickly and confidently. They arrived at the Savoy in what seemed like record time and stopped near the front door.
Rafi walked behind Kate into the crowded hotel foyer.
At the main desk they were greeted by the manager, who seemed pleased to see them.
‘I’m sorry you’re leaving us. I hope you had a pleasant stay.’
‘Every bit as good as I hoped,’ Rafi replied.
‘Your luggage is being collected as we speak and will be waiting for you at the front door. I hope you will visit us again soon; it was a pleasure to have you both here… I’m sorry, I nearly forgot – I have some messages for you.’
There were messages from Kate’s parents and from Emma and Saara sending their best wishes. None of these needed an immediate reply. The last one, though, was from Jeremy. Kate read it and passed it to Rafi.
As he read the message, Rafi felt the colour drain out of his face. Their nightmare had not ended. The terrorist from Heysham had escaped from hospital – heaven only knew what he was capable of doing, even with a broken arm and collar bone. ‘So now what?’ he said in a shocked tone.
‘Doesn’t look good, does it? We’ll speak to Jeremy in the car and take it from there.’
They said their goodbyes to the manager and put the luggage, which seemed far more than Rafi could remember, into the Volvo’s boot and across the back seat.
They turned into the traffic on the Strand and headed west towards the Hogath Roundabout and the M4.
As they drove along the raised section of the M4, Kate turned on her hands-free phone and called Jeremy. His phone went to voicemail, so she left a message. ‘Hi, Kate here. I’m on my mobile. Chat soon.’
The traffic on the motorway was surprisingly light and they made good progress out of London, past Heathrow and on towards Reading.
‘How about brunch?’ asked Kate.
‘Great idea,’ replied Rafi.
‘There’s a service station coming up shortly – is that alright with you?’
Rafi nodded. Baked beans and service station food, both in the space of twenty-four hours – how things were changing for him!
As Kate was pulling over towards the service station exit, her phone rang.
‘Hi, Kate,’ said Jeremy in a businesslike tone, ‘Sorry to break in on your well-earned holiday, but something has come up. Aslan Popovskaya, the terrorist we captured at Heysham, has escaped from hospital. We haven’t got a clue where he’s heading, but given all that has been going on recently he’s likely to be like a bear with a sore head. Where are you off to?’
Kate gave Jeremy the hotel details.
‘I’ll get a fax sent with his mugshot, just in case.’
Kate passed the service station, indicating to Rafi that they would stop at the next one.
There was a stony silence in the car.
‘Why would he come after us?’ Kate asked Jeremy.
‘Well, I suspect it is Rafi he’s after. Who has had their face plastered over the papers recently? And who, according to the news coverage, helped the police and messed up the terrorists’ plans, robbing them of their multibillion payout?’
‘OK, I get your line of thinking. But no one knows where we’re going – or do they?’
‘No, you’re right, but better safe than sorry.’
‘Do you have any leads on where Popovskaya might be?’
‘We have one long shot which we’re following up. Colonel Matlik and his Russian contacts have sent us details of all the other mercenaries that they have on their most wanted list. We have distributed the photos and names to all airports and ports, just in case one of them comes over to help Popovskaya. The new face recognition and gait assessment software at Heathrow airport has picked up a potential match. A brute of a man travelling on a Polish passport arrived there from Budapest an hour and a half ago. He has an uncanny resemblance to a former Chechen army officer, Radu Dranoff, and is on the list we have just received. We gave his and several other passengers’ luggage a spot check, and at the same time picked up his mobile phone number. I have a team tracking his mobile phone calls and his movements. At the moment he is on a coach heading for Oxford. I have got another call… Must go. Do please keep in contact.’
‘Will do and thanks for the call.’ Kate flicked off her phone. They sat in silence until they arrived at the service station just after Swindon.
‘Well, what a way to start our holiday!’ said Rafi who looked across at Kate’s strained face.
‘You know what our problem is?’
‘No,’ he replied.
‘You and I have become too hot a story. One sniff of us being in Cornwall and the flaming paparazzi will be all over us like locusts. Hey presto, within less than twenty-four hours the terrorists will know where we are.’
Rafi nodded. ‘Well, at least Jeremy has a lead and the new Chechen arrival is probably only here to get Popovskaya safely out of the UK.’
‘I hope you are right. Do you know what I love about you, Rafi? It’s your optimism.’ Kate leant across and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Come on, my tummy is rumbling. I need to keep my energy levels up for all the exercise we’re going to take in Cornwall.’
They chose their food in the cafeteria, Rafi pulled out his wallet and paid at the till. Then he noticed that in amongst his other banknotes was a damaged?20 note which hadn’t been there when he had last looked. Attached to it was a Post-it with a scribbled message: ‘You might like to frame this as a souvenir!’ It was signed by Jeremy. Rafi smiled to himself.
Breakfast was far better than he’d imagined. Kate tucked into a full English breakfast. He looked across at her slender frame and wondered where she managed to put all that food. She scowled as she caught him staring.
‘I wish I had your metabolism,’ he chuckled.
‘Is that why you were staring? What a disappointment – I thought you were ogling!’
The journey was uneventful but then, thirty miles from Newquay, Jeremy phoned again.
‘Hi guys!’ He sounded upbeat. ‘I’ve got some news for you. Our Chechen with the Polish passport received a phone call half an hour ago. It was from a mobile phone which we’ve traced to outside Lancaster, which is near where we had Popovskaya in a secure hospital unit. Putting two and two together we think that our two Chechen mercenaries are on their way to meet up. Thought you might like to know. I’ve sent a fax with their details to the hotel. I’ll keep you posted. Goodbye.’
It had been a one-sided phone call as Kate hadn’t been able to get a word in. Jeremy had sounded upbeat, but both Kate and Rafi felt it had been an act. She put her hand on Rafi’s knee. ‘Even if we jump to the conclusion that they are after you, at least we’ll have one, maybe two days before they’ll know where we are. Jeremy and his team will look after us; don’t worry.’
Rafi sat staring out of the window.
Kate looked subdued. ‘This is no way to start a relationship. Let’s chill out for the next couple of days and I promise you, Jeremy will keep an eye on our backs. If you want to start worrying, save it until after the paparazzi have found us. Then we’ll both be in the frame.’
Rafi looked into Kate’s eyes and at her lovely face. ‘I’d hoped to leave the nightmares behind. But at least I’ve got you with me. I agree. No worrying until our whereabouts are common knowledge.’
For the last half-hour of the journey they played a game, trying to guess what the hotel would be like. They knew it stood on its own headland and overlooked a long, sandy bay.
‘You’re a pessimist,’ concluded Rafi.
‘Yes, but with low expectations things must get better.’
‘Is that why you decided on me as your new boyfriend?’
‘Of course, how much worse could it have got? A man locked up as a suspect in a terrorism case, uncooperative and with a useless wrist to boot. Plus, smelly – no, really smelly – unkempt, and that’s just for starters.’ They laughed and the mood in the car became lighter.
In contrast, outside the weather had turned foul. They followed the signs to Fistral Beach, drove past a windswept golf club and there in front of them was the Headland Hotel, an imposing Victorian-style red brick building, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean and the surfers’ paradise, Fistral Bay. Its long driveway went through its own small golf course.
The strength of the wind was driving the rain horizontally. Kate drew her car up near the front door and they sat for a while looking at the heavy rain. She looked at Rafi with a grin. ‘Where did we put the overcoats?’
He smiled. ‘In the boot, of course!’
‘Will we get more soaked making a dash for the front door, or getting our coats out of the boot?’
‘I have a better idea.’ He picked up Kate’s phone and dialled a number. When he got through he asked whoever was on the other end of the line, ‘Would you by any chance have a spare umbrella or two? We’re stuck ten metres away from your front door and we…’
A friendly voice interrupted him. ‘It is rather nasty outside. I’ll get the porter to come and help you in.’
Wielding a large umbrella in high winds and driving rain was a skill that Rafi hadn’t considered until then. They were ferried one at a time into the hotel. Kate went first and Rafi followed, wet at the edges but not soaked.
He walked into the reception area. Kate was standing in front of a roaring open fire. She was beaming.
‘This is just brilliant. I think I’m going to like it here.’
To his surprise she bounced over and flung her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that was more appropriate to the privacy of one’s own room. Kate finished her show of affection and drew back, noticing that Rafi had started to blush.
‘Oops, I seem to get a bit carried away at times,’ she said to no one in particular. The hotel was busy for off-season February. Rafi wondered if, like the Savoy, it had also taken more than its fair share of those left homeless.
At the reception desk they were greeted by an attentive receptionist who arranged for their luggage to be taken up to their room. Next to their key was Jeremy’s fax. It contained mug shots of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya. Rafi studied Kate’s serious face as she read it. She then passed the fax to him. The three pages of information made disconcerting reading. Popovskaya was made of stern stuff. In his fall from the scaffolding tower he had fractured his left collar bone and broken his left wrist and arm in several places. And now he and Dranoff were on the loose, most likely after them.
‘Shame that Popovskaya is right handed…’ Kate was politely interrupted by the receptionist.
‘We’ve filled up since last week. Please forgive us if the service is a little slower than normal. We’ve managed to find you a comfortable bedroom, though.’
Rafi took the key and, holding Kate’s hand walked across to the small lift. They got out on the second floor. The corridor leading to the room was spacious and newly carpeted. Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand in anticipation as they stood in front of the door. He opened it and they walked in. In front of them was a modest-sized sitting room with stunning views over the long sandy beach and the ocean. A large arrangement of flowers on the side table added to the welcoming atmosphere.
‘Where is the bed?’ asked Kate, sounding like a young girl itching to explore. ‘How about I try this door?’ she said with a bounce in her step and disappeared into the next room. ‘Rafi, look what I’ve found!’
He followed her and there in front of him was the wonderful sight of Kate lying on her back, spread eagled across a large king-sized bed, and bouncing up and down.
‘This is great! I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d tried. Nice, comfy bed – let me change that, a nice, big, comfy bed – great views and peace and quiet. Fantastic!’ Kate rolled off the bed, stood up in front of Rafi, and looked into his eyes. ‘Promise me one thing,’ she said. ‘Let’s forget the terrorists and enjoy the now. Tomorrow can look after itself. It usually does.’
He pulled her close to him and kissed her.
Kate pulled back and straight away sensed Rafi’s disappointment. She paused and spoke just before Rafi was going to. ‘I could do with using the bathroom for a moment. Could you do me a favour and find out when they finish serving afternoon tea?’
A short phone call later, Rafi returned to the bedroom and called to Kate through the closed bathroom door. ‘Tea ends in just over an hour.’
‘Excellent… I’ll be with you shortly.’
Rafi walked back into the sitting room, picked up and put on his jacket, and turned the lights off. He walked over to the balcony doors; it had stopped raining. He opened them and stepped outside into the bracing wind.
Motionless, he stood looking out over the dark ocean, letting the fresh, salt laden air wash over him. He shivered and was about to turn to go back inside when he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around him. He was grateful for the body warmth. Kate nestled closer to him, then backed off. Following her unspoken instructions he turned. Her long sleeved blouse was unbuttoned. A gust of wind flapped open the soft material revealing a naked body… She moved forward and whispered a request into his ear.
Some while later Kate and Rafi lay curled in each other’s arms. He placed a kiss gently on her cheek. ‘I’m going to have to keep my eyes on you! Taking me unawares like that. Whatever will you think of next?’
Kate grinned.
‘No don’t tell me! You look so innocent, but underneath you’re a right little minx…’
She poked him gently in the ribs. ‘Yes… but it takes two to tango!’
Rafi looked at his watch. ‘By my reckoning we have half an hour before they stop serving tea.’
Afternoon tea was as Kate had hoped: scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam in front of an open fire. They chatted, sitting comfortably on a huge sofa while time sped by.
But their cosy little world was shattered when Kate answered a call from Jeremy.
She filled Rafi in. ‘MI5 has intercepted a phone call; Popovskaya and Dranoff have met up, not ten miles from the hospital that Popovskaya escaped from. Unfortunately, they have lost them and have no further information. Neil reckons that they’ll lie low for a couple of days to let Popovskaya recover and then come after us. An SAS team is on its way to watch the hotel and to protect us. They should be here later this evening and we have been advised to sleep in another bedroom – incognito.’
They dressed for dinner, and then moved into the new bedroom the proprietor had found for them.
Dinner was enjoyable; they ate hungrily and chatted, but the vivacity had gone. The nightmare wasn’t over yet.
Whilst they were having coffee, Jeremy phoned. ‘An SAS team of three are keeping watch over the entrances to the hotel. They like the fact that the hotel is so exposed because it makes it difficult for Dranoff to creep up unnoticed. I hope to be with you in about twenty minutes.’
Sure enough, a short while later Jeremy appeared accompanied by a casually dressed individual.
‘Please let me introduce you to your SAS bodyguard: Corporal Brett Johnstone. He’ll be your shadow whilst Dranoff and Popovskaya remain at large. Have you eaten already?’ enquired Jeremy.
‘Yes,’ replied Kate, ‘but I can always find room for another pudding! Do come and have dinner – you’ll like the food.’
‘Excellent,’ grinned Jeremy.
‘How about I find us a nice, quiet table and see if I need to borrow a tie?’ suggested Brett.
He reappeared a few minutes later. Jeremy and Kate were deep in conversation. ‘Dranoff and Popovskaya have disappeared off the face of the earth. We tried to lock on to their phone signals, but their phones are turned off. These two definitely know what they’re doing.’
Jeremy and Brett tucked into a hearty dinner.
‘Neil is sure that you’re their target – payback time for those who got in the way,’ said Jeremy. ‘We have considered other possible targets, but we keep coming back to the fact that Popovskaya will be feeling pissed off, and you, Rafi, seem the perfect person on which to vent his anger. What worries us is who arranged for Dranoff to come to the UK to help Popovskaya. We thought we had all the main players under lock and key, and incommunicado. We know Miti is on the run in Africa, but we don’t believe his influence goes this far. There has to be someone else out there – part of the terrorists’ web -who is pulling the Chechen end of the strings. We’re looking again at the teams run by Kaleem Shah and Kim Chindriani to see if we missed someone, but haven’t found anything yet.’
Jeremy paused. ‘Neil doesn’t think they know that we are on to them. My colleagues are keeping an eye out for stolen guns or vehicles reported between here and their last known locations.’
‘When do you think that they will come for us?’ asked Kate.
‘Unfortunately,’ said Jeremy calmly, ‘As soon as the paparazzi are on to you, your location will become public knowledge. Realistically, you could expect company any time from tomorrow early afternoon. Neil would like you to stay put, so if they do come for you, the SAS can protect you. The alternative is for you to go into hiding and wait for them to come after you… which I wouldn’t recommend.’
The conversation moved on to the terrorists captured at Safi.
‘They’re due to arrive in Plymouth tomorrow. I shall be there to greet them; one of the perks of my job!’ said Jeremy.
‘How badly were the terrorists damaged by their investments in the markets?’ asked Brett. ‘Jeremy has been describing what they were aiming to do, and how they got caught with their pants down!’
‘I spoke briefly to Aidan earlier today,’ Rafi said. ‘He says that the markets have been remarkably resilient. But in the areas where the terrorists were playing the derivatives market, prices have moved sharply against them. They’re sitting on some truly massive losses. With Maryam, Jameel and the sheikh unable to make contact with their dealers, their positions will be sold. Aidan reckons their collateral will be too little to cover their margin calls. As a result the dodgy banks that acted as intermediaries will also be put through a financial shredding machine.’
Jeremy smiled. ‘Good – serves them right.’
‘Aidan is optimistic that several other shady people will be caught red-handed. He’s been liaising with Neil, who’s following up a significant list of very interesting leads. Maryam, it seems, is in bed with a number of European investors, many of whom are super wealthy, very well connected and of dubious character. Time will tell if they are just plain greedy or are in fact crooks,’ added Rafi.
After dinner, Brett and Jeremy walked with Kate and Rafi to their room. Brett had been given a room on the other side of the corridor, near the top of the stairs, and proceeded to set up a selection of listening and monitoring devices in their room and along the corridor.
Rafi and Kate said their goodnights and retired to their new twin bedroom. Rafi sat tentatively on the edge of his single bed.
‘I’d been really looking forward to this evening,’ said Kate. ‘Now we’re stuck with single beds and bugs!’ she grinned. ‘Would you like a good night’s sleep or company?’
‘Both please.’
‘I wonder how we might manage that?’ Kate said with a grin. She headed for the bathroom. ‘There’s no bath but we do have a big shower,’ she called to Rafi.
As if he had read her thoughts, moments later he was standing at the bathroom door in his next to nothings.
‘You don’t hang around,’ said Kate.
To Rafi’s delight the shower had a range of settings. He was under a warm torrent when Kate joined him and changed the setting to a fine drizzle.
‘Now where would you like me to start?’ Kate picked up the bar of soap and smelt its inviting scent. ‘How about your back?’
Rafi turned round and faced the shower wall.
‘I hope this doesn’t hurt,’ said Kate as she looked at the bruises on his back.
He felt her fingers softly glide on the silky lather, gently massaging his muscles. They slowly worked their way from his shoulders down to the bottom of his back, skirting around his bruises. She was in a playful mood.
Kate recalled her first sight of him in the interrogation room. He had looked ordinary and cheerless. Then seeing him after his shower in the changing room at Wood Street police station, partially undressed, it had been a revelation. She smiled, he was gorgeous. His body was willowy but manly… The soap slipped out of her fingers. As she bent over to pick it up he tickled her.
Kate let out a loud shreik.
Moments later, there was a loud bang as the bathroom door flew open. There on the other side of the steamed up glass was the outline of a man holding a gun. Rafi’s heart missed a beat as the faces of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya flashed into his mind. He stood petrified, his pulse racing. Time stood still.
‘Sorry mate, I thought you had unwanted company!’ came an embarrassed voice. The door closed and Brett, the SAS man was gone.
Rafi stood motionless under the hot drizzling water. ‘Are you alright?’ asked Kate.
‘I guess so,’ replied Rafi shakily. He still had the outline of the gun framed in his mind. ‘That gave me quite a shock.’
Kate changed the shower’s controls and, under a torrent of water, quickly hosed off the sea of bubbles.
‘Brought reality back with a bang… Ehh?’ and gave Rafi a hug. ‘Let’s get you dry and tucked up in bed’.
The low morning sun streamed in to the bedroom through the small gaps around the curtains. A ray of light danced on Rafi’s face. The daylight had woken Kate half an hour earlier. She had come round to find Rafi asleep in her arms, with his serene face close to hers, and had carefully examined every inch of it many times over. Kate smiled as she thought about the man lying next to her.
The fluttering of Rafi’s dark eyelashes brought her out of her daydreams.
‘Good morning darling. I hope you slept well,’ she said softly.
‘Like a log.’
Kate lent forward and gave him a kiss. ‘How about breakfast in bed?’
‘Nice idea. What about a full English breakfast with orange juice and coffee, in say half an hour? And we don’t even need to use the phone to order.’
‘Pardon…? Oh, I forgot that our SAS friends are listening in.’
Half an hour later there was a knock at the door, and Brett entered carrying a tray laden with their breakfast. ‘I hope you don’t mind me using the spare key?’ He put the tray down and smiled at Rafi and Kate snuggled up in a single bed. ‘And I hope I didn’t barge in on you.’ He grinned, turned and left.
Their breakfast was interrupted by a phone call from Jeremy. ‘There’s no sign of Dranoff or Popovskaya. Have you seen the morning papers?’
‘Not yet,’ replied Kate.
‘Well, there’s a picture in one of the tabloids of the two of you having dinner. If that’s not a red rag to a bull, I don’t know what is. The terrorists now know exactly where you are. Brett has asked for you to stay in your room. Sorry if it cramps your style, but…’
‘That’s alright,’ butted in Kate. ‘Rafi and I’ll be fine.’
The rest of the morning passed slowly. Rafi read the papers and was in particular fascinated by an article in The Independent which gave details of the exclusion zone around Stratford and provided a summary of the building works that were in progress, and of those planned. It showed maps and explained how the transport and key utilities were being rerouted around the newly named ‘Isle of Stratford’.
Kate meanwhile lazed around, read a magazine and wrote postcards to her parents and her brother.
They opted for an early lunch in their room.
‘Now what?’ enquired Kate. ‘I’m fed up with writing cards and reading.’
She picked up the hotel brochure. ‘Hey Rafi, do you like swimming? There’s a heated indoor pool. I wonder if Brett would let us go for a swim later?’
‘If you can find me a pair of trunks, I’ll be there,’ replied Rafi.
Kate got up, rummaged around in her suitcase and pulled out two swimming costumes. ‘I packed these just in case – I love water.’ She held up a black Speedo one-piece and then a couple of scraps of blue material. ‘A friend got me the bikini in Brazil a couple of years ago, but I haven’t had the courage to wear it!’
‘I can see why,’ said Rafi with a big smile.
‘Would you like to see it on?’ enquired Kate.
‘Yes please.’
Kate disappeared into the bathroom. Several minutes later she reappeared. ‘So what do you think?’
Rafi looked at her. The Speedo swimsuit fitted her like a glove – flattening out her contours, giving her figure the look of a teenager.
‘This is what I usually wear. It’s not very flattering is it? Now what do you think of this…?’ She peeled off the one-piece, revealing the skimpy bikini.
Rafi’s eyes were drawn to the small blue triangles which accentuated her subtle sexy curves. ‘You look amazing…’
Kate moved towards Rafi, her fingers playing with the thin blue strings that held the flimsy bikini together. ‘Now if I pull this and this…’ she said, stepping forward in her nothingness, ‘You get just me!’
At 4.30 p.m. Brett knocked on the door and entered carrying a tray of Cornish cream tea. ‘Hope I didn’t wake you, but I thought you might like some sustenance.’ He put the tray down on the side table. ‘I have some news. Jeremy phoned. He hopes you are not getting bored stiff, and says that Jameel and co. are safely in custody on English soil and are seriously disgruntled. All they want to know about is what the long gilts index and interest rates are doing. We haven’t broken the bad news to them, as yet. Oh, by the way, Maryam is under lock and key at a safe house. Neil Gunton is looking forward to playing her off against the others.’
‘Thanks Brett,’ said Kate, ‘And thank you for watching over us.’
‘My pleasure. Let me know if you need anything else. If not, I’ll be back at supper time,’ he smiled as he left.
Kate picked up the bedside phone and rang reception. ‘What time does the post go…? OK, thanks.’ She leant forwards and kissed Rafi warmly on the lips. ‘I have to nip downstairs to buy stamps – the post goes in five minutes. Sending cards to the family is something we always used to do… I thought my parents would like a card showing the hotel and its beach.’ Kate dressed quickly and went downstairs.
Wrapped in a bathrobe Rafi sat by the window. It was dark outside. The floodlights accentuated the driving rain. He sat there thinking of very little. Next to him on the table, was a Sig Sauer P226 revolver, which had been given to him by Brett. ‘Its small size,’ Brett had explained, ‘Means you can carry it on you without showing a telltale bulge. All you need to know is that it has seven. 38 calibre rounds, which will stop a man if you hit him anywhere in the torso. Remember, it has a safety catch on the thumb side for right-handers. This little beauty has only a modest kick; aim a little low unless you’ve had time to cradle the gun properly.’ Brett had shown him how to hold the gun. ‘Be instinctive and please bear in mind that if you are aiming at a person thirty feet away, your accuracy as an amateur will be in the order of six feet. So please be extra careful of bystanders!’
Rafi recalled his fervently hoping that he would never have to use the gun. Kate had put hers in her handbag. He’d left his on the table; he didn’t know what else to do with it.
He watched as a pair of bright headlights arced down the windswept drive. They belonged to a silver Range Rover. It parked opposite the hotel and out stepped a well-built man wearing a flat hat, plus fours and a checked sports jacket; he also had a Barbour jacket slung over his left shoulder.
If it had been me in this rain, Rafi thought, I’d have had the Barbour on and not draped over my shoulder. Rafi watched as the man glanced around, turned and strode towards the front door.
Rafi sensed something wasn’t right. The man’s face was obscured by his hat and coat. He was walking straight towards the door; in front of him was a large puddle. He didn’t walk around it but straight through it, and that’s when Rafi noticed his shoes. They were heavy, black, scuffed leather boots – the sort one would associate with a navvy or a soldier. He was thickset and his gait wasn’t that of a well-heeled City gent.
‘Oh my God!’ Rafi gasped and jumped to his feet. He felt certain he had just been looking at Dranoff. He picked up his gun and bolted out of the room, running down the corridor barefooted, with his white bathrobe untied and streaming out behind him. As he passed Brett’s door, he banged on it and shouted, ‘Dranoff’s downstairs and so is Kate!’
At the top of the stairs an elderly couple shrieked as he ran past them. Rafi grabbed the banister rail with his good left hand and swung round and down the wide stairs.
In a couple of bounds he’d reached the half landing. As he headed down the last flight of stairs, the man came into view – he was walking through the reception area. Rafi focused on what little he could see of his face. Yes, it was Dranoff!
Neither of the SAS men from outside was following him. Rafi saw Kate sitting across from the bottom of the stairs, sticking a stamp on to her postcard. Dranoff was just on the other side of the glass divide between her and the reception area.
Her eyes looked up and met Dranoff’s as he pushed through the glass swing door between them. Out from under the Barbour jacket came a sawn-off shotgun.
‘No! It can’t end like this,’ thought Rafi. He let out a bloodcurdling scream, flicked the safety catch off and pointed his pistol towards the terrorist. He couldn’t shoot at him – there were too many people close by and with the gun in his bruised hand he could hit practically anyone within ten feet of what he aimed at. But he had to shoot to distract Dranoff and to draw his fire. Still screaming, Rafi fired at the plate glass window next to Dranoff.
There was a loud bang and a crash of splintering glass.
Dranoff swung his gun round and fired both barrels. The wooden banister rail at Rafi’s side erupted into a swarm of flying splinters, as he fell headlong down the stairs.
For Rafi everything went pitch black.