The Half Truth(81)

As she cleared the last layer of money from the shoebox, she noticed a postcard sitting in the bottom. A scene of a small sailboat bobbing on a lake surrounded by countryside. She didn’t need to read the back to know where the picture had been taken.

Lake Windermere. She and Sasha had honeymooned in the Lake District. They had had their first lunch as Mr and Mrs Bolotnikov at a restaurant overlooking the lake. Her hand shook as she reached in to pick it up. Sasha had left this for her. She turned it over. The black biro words had been penned by Sasha.

And the sun’s rays reflected back from the water like gems of tears.

She read it again. It made no sense. Maybe something had got lost in translation? She went to put the card into the rucksack, but changed her mind and placed it in her handbag instead. She would look at it when she had more time.

Five minutes later she pressed the internal buzzer to signal she was ready to leave. All she had to do now was to deposit the cash into the Swiss bank account of the clinic, where, Sasha assured her, they would ask no questions whatsoever. He had specifically told her not to do a bank-to-bank transfer. He didn’t want a paper trail. Once the money hit the account, the clinic would contact Rozalina direct and organise everything from their end. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to have any direct dealings with Rozalina herself. Tina wasn’t sure either wife would be able to cope with that, especially now Sasha had died.

Stepping out onto the pavement, Tina breathed a sigh of relief. She adjusted the strap of the rucksack to a more comfortable position on her shoulders. The sun had managed to shake off the clouds and the rays momentarily blinded her. She fished in her handbag for her sunglasses.

As she put them on a hand caught hold of her arm. Fingers gripped around her elbow.

‘Hello, Tina.’





Chapter 42


Tina felt sick to the pit of her stomach. She thought she had been so careful. She was sure she hadn’t been followed and, yet, here he was, right by her side. She attempted to shrug John’s hand from her arm, but he wasn’t letting go.

‘I could just scream and cause a scene,’ she said, not breaking her stride.

‘Then I would just have to arrest you officially,’ said John, keeping step with her. ‘You could make it a whole lot easier by simply getting into the car.’

‘No thanks. I’d rather walk.’

‘You won’t mind if I walk with you, then.’

‘As a matter of fact, I would mind. A lot.’ Tina continued striding down Queen’s Street. The seafront was directly ahead and she knew anytime now the pier would come into sight. An overwhelming feeling of despair flooded her, drowning her hopes. Tears filled her eyes. She had got so close. She was going to fail. She couldn’t quite give up yet. She stopped walking and turned to face him. ‘Please, John. Don’t do this.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He looked genuinely upset. ‘If there was any other way …’

‘There is. You can let me go. Pretend you missed me.’

John shook his head. ‘I can’t do that.’ His voice was tender yet firm. He lifted his hand to her face and wiped away an errant tear from her cheek.

She tried once more. ‘Please? I’m begging you. Look the other way, just for a few seconds.’

‘Tina. Don’t do this.’

‘No! You don’t do this.’ She reined in a shout, aware they were drawing attention to themselves. She went to move, to test his resolve. He gripped her with both hands.

‘It’s blood money, Tina. It has Neil’s blood on it and now it has Sasha’s blood on it. I can’t let it go. Or you.’

For a moment she wondered what those last words meant. She didn’t have time to consider them fully. ‘The money, it’s not for me or for the Porboski gang. It’s for Sasha’s son. He needs medical treatment. Urgently.’

‘I know. I do know that,’ said John. ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’

‘You’re a cold-hearted bastard, John Nightingale.’ Tina wanted to slap him. How could he be so indifferent? ‘Your job really does come before everything else, doesn’t it? Even the life of a child.’ John said nothing. His silence enraged her all the more. She grappled the rucksack from her back and shoved it into his chest. ‘Here. Have it. You can now add Nikolay’s blood to the list.’

It had been a week now since John had followed Tina to Brighton. He had guessed she had a plan to collect the money. She had a motive. She was determined. It was so easy to read her.

He wished now, more than ever before, that his job hadn’t once again intruded into her personal life. He had already lost his wife to the job. Divorce in his line of work was almost a foregone conclusion. Now it seemed it was killing any chance he had with Tina.