There was silence for a while then Nikolas replied hesitantly, “Maybe. She didn’t speak in Danish when she hung up.”
“So, maybe it wasn’t anything to do with school? Anything to do with you?”Or everything to do with you.“Nik, can I say something without you biting my head off?”
“Oh, like you’re repressed and not allowed to ask questions. That would be the day.”
“I don’t want you to sulk and be angry with me. Promise?”
“Are you ten? Okay, okay, ask your questions. I am skinned to the bone and eviscerated by you already.”
“Had your father made any moves to get you both to Russia before she died? Moves that she was maybe resisting? Could she have been talking to him? In Russian?”
Nikolas’s hold tightened unconsciously around Ben as if even thinking this made him anxious. “It could’ve been Russian. Why?”
“The timing of her death was very convenient…”
There was a long silence. Ben could almost hear the wheels turning. “No. That’s not possible. She killed herself because I…” He didn’t sound all that certain now, however.
Ben didn’t say anymore, and Nikolas was silent for the rest of the day. Whatever complex reassessment of thirty-year-old events he was making, Ben felt he should have time and space to make without further contribution from him.
That night, for the first time, Ben moved his mat over to Nikolas’s and arranged it so both sleeping bags were open and spread above them creating a double bed; albeit not a luxury one they usually enjoyed.
Ben spooned Nikolas to him, Nikolas’s cold back against his chest, both soon warming to the naked bodily contact. After a long time, when Ben felt sure Nikolas must be asleep, he heard Nikolas’s uncharacteristically tentative voice. “How likely is it that we both had fathers who murdered our mothers? That’s ridiculous.”
“Yeah. I guess. But neither of us knew it.”
“I don’t see your logic in that.” There was another long pause, and then Nikolas added, “I hated her. After what she did. Within a week, we were taken from our house and the life we knew, the freedom, and from our language, and to…well, I blamed her for it all. I thought she was weak. That all women were weak. I have never liked women very much because of her. I saw some of this anger in you and wanted you to know that your mother didn’t abandon you, but I never thought…”
“Now you know maybe.”
“Yes. But it doesn’t help. Now I know that all the things my father told me, to encourage this view I had of her weakness and her lack of love for me, were lies. That he was only telling me this to enable—” He stopped and Ben could not help but feel the tenseness creep into the body pressed tightly against him. “He said what we did together was true love and that it proved he loved me when she had not.”
“Jesus, Nik. I’m so sorry.”
“I wish now ithadbeen me to pull the trigger.”
After a while, Ben said lightly, “At least look on the bright side; you may start liking women now. You know, get into the whole girlfriend scene: dating, flowers, and chocolates, having to be nice, gentle, do the romance thing, all that puss—”
“Stop!” Nikolas was laughing, which is what Ben had wanted, so he didn’t complete his suggestions for Nikolas’s new sex life. With some care, Nikolas turned so he was facing Ben in the dark. They couldn’t see each other, even this close up, but Ben could feel warm breath on his face and honed in on it to kiss. They kissed for a long time, lazily enjoying tongue and taste, and knowing that they were hard but not desperately so and quite enjoying the feeling without the great desire or need to do anything about it. When Nikolas eased his mouth away, he said simply, “I hated myself, Ben. I thought I’d killed her by not being a good son. I let Sergei do what he did because I didn’t care about anything.” He put a finger to Ben’s lips to avoid any response for he did not seem to need one and added, “Have you thought about my suggestion for the Gregory problem?”
Ben allowed him the reprieve from his sad past and replied, “The Gregory problem. Yeah, I have. I guess we can try it your way. I was thinking that if he agrees and does come to work with us, it would be easier to kill him, one of those advantages of keeping your enemies close.”
Nikolas made a small choked noise in the back of his throat then rolled onto his back. “We think too much alike, Benjamin. That thought had occurred to me as well. The trouble is—”
“He’ll have thought of it, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The next day was wet as well, the heavy rain continuing, making the house feel damp and cold. They kept the fire going downstairs and stayed the whole day in the small room. Ben produced a pack of cards and Nikolas a bottle of vodka, and they amused themselves teaching each other the various games they’d learnt during their different but, occasionally, very similar lives. Ben had learnt Special Forces games; so had Nikolas. Nikolas had learnt games in prison, which Ben hadn’t. He’d also played cards with royalty, including a queen, which gave him a whole new (and far less pornographic) set of games to teach Ben. They both knew how to drink equally well, and the neat vodka added spice to the whole day. By the time darkness fell, which was hardly that noticeable as it had been dark all day, they’d made love five times in various ways, drunk the entire bottle, and owed each other many millions of pounds, which Ben had more chance of collecting than Nikolas ever would. They’d also run out of food, having now eaten all the dried rations as well as the fresh food they’d polished off the day before. Nikolas wasn’t particularly concerned and almost seemed to relish the idea of a few days without having to eat at all. Ben said he could put up with it—he’d done so many times in his life before—but claimed it was the dog he was concerned about. Nikolas pretended to believe him, and they both agreed Ben would make a trip to the nearest village the next day and, with cash, stock them up again. There seemed to be no risk in this plan, as far as they could see.
By the light of the fire, they studied the map and discovered a village with a pub and post office about fifteen miles away. They reckoned it would have a shop. Ben calculated it would take him all day to get there and back, and he was concerned about leaving Nikolas on his own, but when he voiced this thought he got a suitable response and decided perhaps the Zaslon operative could survive without him for a few hours. He decided to leave the dog with him, too. He could cope with his own imminent death from starvation but not Radulf’s as well.
He set off before first light with his empty pack and a few hundred pounds in cash. The moors were sodden from two days of rain, and, even now, a light drizzle was falling. In some places, he went in over the top of his boots, and so had to walk most of the fifteen miles with wet feet. He began to revise his fond memories of the army and to stop blaming Nikolas so much for his new life. He’d warmed up by the time the sun came up. He consulted his map to make sure he was headed in the right direction and carried on. Hunger alone would have ensured he made it to the village.
Instead of heading straight to the small supermarket he saw near the green, he went into the pub and ordered himself a huge pasty with extra chips, and sticky toffee pudding and custard to follow. He wolfed the lot, feeling slightly guilty thinking about Nikolas and Radulf hungry and cold back at the house. He sat close to the roaring log fire, took off his boots to dry them, and allowed himself an hour to relax with three pints of beer before thinking about the shopping and the return trip. When he went up to the bar to order his last beer, the landlord had appeared for it was now close to lunchtime and that would bring a consequent increase in customers. He began to take Ben’s order then he frowned, narrowing his eyes. Ben lifted one eyebrow questioningly but the man only grunted and continued pouring. “Sorry, thought we’d met before.”
Ben’s blood ran cold, but he shook off his instant fear for Nikolas as ridiculous. The man was wrong. He was well into his sixties, so not an army contemporary, and Ben didn’t recognise him at all. He slipped into his Yorkshire accent, which he could still put on very easily, and replied, “Not from around here, mate. Just up at the camp with the boys.”
The man nodded. “You’re not that easy to mix up with anyone though. Sorry, fella. No offence.”
