The Half Truth(67)

And there it was, the killer blow, this time hitting him in the larynx. Any verbal response lost in a constricted windpipe. John grabbed Sasha’s shirt and hurled him towards the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

‘You keep your mouth shut,’ grunted John.

Sasha crashed into the mahogany mantelpiece, sending a small carriage clock smashing down onto the hearth. The copper coal bucket, a makeshift rubbish bin, was kicked over as Sasha struggled to regain his footing. The noise brought Martin rushing down the stairs, where he had been in the bathroom studying the newspaper.

‘Hey! John! Stop!’ Martin strode across the room and pulled the two grappling men apart. He shoved Sasha in the chest, propelling him into the fireside armchair. ‘Sit the fuck down, you.’ He turned to John. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

John put his hands up in surrender and moved away from Martin. ‘It’s okay. Nothing.’ He took another couple of steps backwards and adjusted his shirt. ‘It’s okay,’ he repeated.

Martin looked from one man to the other. ‘Let’s keep it that way, eh? John, why don’t you get some fresh air? Me and Sasha here, we’ve got a game of poker to finish from last night.’

Sasha leaned back in the chair, placing his hands on each knee. ‘You will be sorry. I hold all the ace cards.’ He looked meaningfully at John.

John snatched up his jacket. He needed to get out of here. He felt suffocated, the air in the room dry and thin, the temperature stifling. John pushed through the living-room door out into the narrow hallway, a lightheaded feeling made him stagger for a moment and he ricocheted off the wall. Yanking the front door open he stumbled over the threshold, out onto the terracotta path. Using the gate pier to rest against, John leaned forward allowing the blood to rush to his head. He took long, deep breaths. The oxygen saturating his lungs, his breathing became more controlled.

Shit. That was a bad one. He hadn’t had a turn like that in a long time. It was something that happened a lot after the shooting incident and it had taken a couple of years for the attacks to ease. He thought they were a thing of the past, but clearly he was wrong. Maybe it was seeing Sasha again. The dreams had started to become more unsettling, verging now, he would say, on nightmares.

Tentatively, he turned his thoughts to the events that had haunted him for so long. Neil hadn’t meant to be there. It was supposed to be just John and Sasha. John had chased Sasha. He had to make it look realistic. Neither man wanted to give their agreement away to the other side or to their own, for that matter. John could remember clearly the conversation he had with Sasha.

‘What the hell happened?’ he shouted at Sasha. ‘You said there were no guns. It would be a smash and grab. What are you doing here?’ He was out of breath from chasing Sasha. He had sent Neil off in the other direction, hoping to keep him out of it. John needed to speak to Sasha alone.

‘They changed their plan. They didn’t tell me, but they said I had to be a look out. They were getting suspicious. Pavel had to prove I wasn’t a grass.’ Sasha was insistent. ‘I cannot speak to you. If they see me I am a dead man. I do not want any more to do with this. Our deal is off.’

Sasha turned to go. John swiped his gun from his holster, levelling it at the Russian. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Our deal is very much on.’

Sasha eyed the gun in John’s hand. He looked at John, staring him in the eye. ‘I have a wife who is pregnant. I cannot be a part of this.’

‘You should have thought about that before you started slipping the money through the till.’ John uncurled and curled his fingers around the butt of the gun. He had no desire to shoot Sasha, but if he had to, he would. Sasha was too valuable an asset to be allowed to walk away. ‘Besides, if you walk, it could mean your wife gets to hear about what you’ve been up to. Or worse, the Porboski gang.’

‘She does not know anything about this. It would break her heart,’ said Sasha. ‘She does not know anything and I want it to stay that way.’

‘Don’t make me the bearer of bad news.’ It was a below-the-belt threat, but John was willing to use all possible leverage at his disposal. Sasha Bolotnikov was not walking away. John had spent far too many hours turning Sasha, despite the lack of conviction from his DI that this would result in anything. John wasn’t about to lose here. He remained poker-faced, his eyes boring into Sasha.

‘You are threatening to tell my wife? You would stoop that low?’

John nodded. ‘There’s still time for you all to make a new life. Free from this. Free from violence and crime. It will only be a matter of time before you are pulled in too deep.’