They had arrived and the person meeting them now knew.
Nancy made an effort to walk to the table, every step felt as though she was walking through deep sand.
The back door opened and someone walked in, stopping after a few steps.
Nancy drew her hand to her mouth … impossible.
* * *
“The nurse told me you could drink a little tea.” Pole placed a cup on the bedside table.
“I’m not changing my mind.”
Pole shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He continued drinking his coffee. Natalie’s jaw had clenched so hard he could hear the sound of her grinding teeth. “In a few moments you’re going to need your fix. The hospital deal with junkies all the time, but they still need to have authorisation to administer methadone … so it’s going to take a while, a long while.”
“So what …”
“And then … I will take over and it can take a bit of time to get that authorisation too … the police system can be a bit congested at times.”
“I’m not well enough to be discharged.”
“Unfortunately, for you … your scan has just come back and you are as good as new … except for a few bruises. A bit of good luck for both of us.”
“Shame you didn’t end up under the wheels of that bloody bus.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Pole had almost finished his cup. “I have only a little coffee left to drink. I’ll finish it. Then you can tell me what you want to do.”
Natalie closed her eyes and yanked on the handcuff.
Pole kept concentrating on his drink. He took a final sip, stood up and dumped the cup in the wastebin.
“The Bratva don’t forgive. And even if you’re the girlfriend of one of these guys, that will make zero difference … you are expendable and, more importantly, you failed, big time.” Pole spoke whilst moving slowly towards the door.
He gave a final look over his shoulder. Rage on her face made her otherwise attractive features bulge. She threw her free hand over her face, the other stopped on its course by the restriction of the cuff.
“Time’s up, Natalie. You die, one way or another. You speak to me … you get to be reborn. You stay silent … well, you know the deal.” Pole placed his hand on the door to pull it open.
“What do you want to know?”
“Who is the man behind all this?”
Natalie’s head turned towards the wall. “Turner.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“Because it’s rare for the Bratva to do contract killing outside the gang world … that’s not their business.”
“So, your boss … or boyfriend … what is he called?” Pole had moved to the seat he had occupied earlier, next to her bed.
“Dimitri …” Natalie murmured.
“Dimitri what?”
“Rezmikov …”
“Rezmikov asked you to do this as a favour to Turner because they are in business together?”
Natalie nodded.
“Opium from Afghanistan, Herat Province … turned into heroin that floods the European market.” Tears started pouring from Natalie’s eyes.
“I want him, Natalie …”
“Yes …” Her voice shuddered.
“The problem, Natalie, is that it is your word against Turner’s, and if we protect you as witness X, the department is still going to need to disclose your testimony.”
Natalie mumbled a few words that Pole couldn’t make out.
“I didn’t get that.”
“I have proof.” She pressed the palm of her free hand against both her eyes in turn, drying her tears. “I made some recordings on my phone, just in case …”
“That’s much better … and where are these recordings?”
“Still in a mailbox I created on purpose.”
Pole rose slowly. “If the content is as promising as you say … we have a deal.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The light cheek bones, the unmistakable slant of the almond eyes, the distinctive button nose … these are features Nancy recognises instantly.
But it is not her father that stands in front of her, it is a young woman in her early 30s. She has walked in without a word and she is standing motionless a few feet away from Nancy.
Her calm is impressive. She knows the shock she has triggered is immense and that Nancy needs a moment, perhaps a long moment to accept who she is.
Nancy’s mind has gone blank. Of all the outcomes she anticipated, this one she had not envisaged. She is unprepared. If her mind has gone limp, her emotions are raging … pain, anger, betrayal but somehow hope, joy, has crept in amongst them.
The young woman still hasn’t moved and the expression in her eyes is kind. Nancy thinks she has seen a flicker of hope too.
Nancy takes a step forward, her legs leaden. She wants to ask a question … struggles to find the Chinese for it. She tries to remember. The effort required is enormous.
“Who are you? Ni Shi Shei?” She repeats the Chinese, not certain her pronunciation is correct.
The woman breaks into a smile and that smile squeezes Nancy’s heart. If she was in doubt, the handsome smile takes it away instantly.
“My name is Mingmei,” she nods. Her English is accented but Nancy can tell she is fluent.
“But you are … ?” Nancy can’t quite bring herself to ask the right question.
Mingmei nods again. She has taken a step forward, towards the table that separates them. Nancy has also closed the gap. She can almost reach the back of a chair of black lacquer.
She can take one final step, sit at the table and hear her sister’s story or she can just walk out, fly back to Hong Kong, to London, to the life she has led until now in complete ignorance.
But the veil has been lifted. She wants to know the truth. No matter how hurtful that truth might be. She has the courage to hear about her father who, no matter what, has always been in her eyes so righteous, no longer is.
Pain and anger tear at her for a short moment and
