‘Look, this is no time for a Relate session and right now I need that gun, Tina. Then we can all sit down and talk this through.’ He took a couple of steps towards her, his hand held out.
‘Do not give it to him, he will arrest me,’ said Sasha.
John looked back at Sasha. ‘You can’t escape and the money you want, well, you won’t get that either if you run now. Stay, work with me, the police, we can help you. We’ll get you a safe house. We can protect you. Whatever you need, we have the power to make it happen. I’m not interested in you, I just want Pavel and the money.’
‘John’s right. You must let him help you. It’s the only way you can help Nikolay,’ said Tina, her voice choking. ‘Whatever I do now, isn’t for you, it’s for your son.’ She lowered the gun, her hands dropping to her sides.
Immediately John was there, taking the firearm from her hand. He spun round, pointing it in Sasha’s direction, half-expecting to see him already fleeing down the hallway. John really didn’t want to have to chase him or, worse, shoot him. He was relieved to see Sasha flop back against the wall, his eyes closed.
Tina brushed past John and went to comfort Sasha.
‘I’m sorry, Sasha. I’m sorry,’ she repeated as she held her hand to his grazed cheek, a result of his and John’s tussle. Sasha looked down at her, nodded and pulled her into his arms. John watched, as husband and wife clung onto each other, both crying. John turned away, driving down the unexpected bitter taste of jealousy that caught in the back of his throat. She still loved Sasha the man, not Sasha the memory.
John took out his phone, swiped at the screen for Martin’s number.
‘Yep?’ Martin answered on the first ring.
‘Looks like we’re taking a ride to the safe house.’
Chapter 34
Tina sat at the kitchen table, her hands cupped around an untouched mug of tea. John had made it for her before he had left with Sasha and Martin. She didn’t want it. The thought was turning her stomach; a place where her heart had dropped to and now lay heavily. John had wanted to call a female police officer over to sit with her, but Tina had refused. She didn’t want anyone with her, she didn’t need baby-sitting. She just needed to be alone. So much had happened in one day, she needed time to sift through the events and try and make sense of everything.
Sasha was gone and in his wake had left a torrent of emotions, all jumbled up by a raging storm. And now, it was calm, but was this the eye of the storm? Would she have to face another hurricane before emerging the other side into calmer waters or was she already there? Her emotional compass was broken, her sails of resilience tattered; she felt adrift and alone.
She had both Sasha and John and yet she had neither. Sasha was no longer her husband, even though he was still alive. Sasha, her husband, really did die five years ago. The Sasha who was left was someone else’s husband, a father to someone else’s son. He didn’t belong in her world – that much she realised. The irony was not wasted on her. How many times had she wished it was all only a dream and that Sasha would walk through the door and everything could go back to normal? And now that wish had come true, but in the cruellest of ways. Sasha might still be alive as she had wished so many times, but having him back again would always be a dream.
Tina knew she should console herself with the fact that John had come into her life. Again, the irony of his appearance was not wasted on her. Death had taken Sasha and given her John. Yet John, too, was far from straightforward. He was with her, but his affection had come in disguise and she wasn’t really sure who she had begun to have feelings for or how much he felt for her. Did he care about her for herself or for who she had been married to and what information she could give him? Did he care about her for Neil? Once he had brought justice to Neil, would John no longer need her? Was she enough for him without the Bolotnikov connection?
Her head was spinning and thoughts were chasing each around her mind – a never-ending carousel of questions.
19 De Beauvoir Square was an unassuming Edwardian terrace house, situated in north London, innocuous and typical of the area. It didn’t stand out in any way from the other houses clustered around the central gardens of the square. And that was how John liked it.
Contrary to Hollywood films there were no security cameras, intricate door-entry systems, banks of computers and monitors, an arsenal of weapons, a hidden maze of tunnels, complete with panic room or a self-destructing safety mechanism should the premises be breached.
A colleague was there to let them in, having stocked up with food supplies. The two- bedroom house was sparsely furnished, the Met not known for its generous interior-design budget, although a TV had been acquired to help pass the hours.