Conscious Decisions of the Heart (3 page)

Nikolas took a long drink of wine. “We could be if you accept my offer.”

“If I accept your offer, maybe my English be good as yours! Maybe I have lovely suit like you. Maybe I eat lobster every day like you! Soft country with soft people, no, Aleksey?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t hold you to staying in England, Gregory. Please. Feel free to go wherever you wish. Thailand, possibly. I always thought your tastes would run to Thailand.”

Gregory smiled, but it appeared slightly forced. “No, I want stay here and enjoy all this. Like you.” He amended with a smirk, “Like you do.”

“So, do we have a deal? I provide you with a new identity and life, and in return―”

“In return I no kill you?”

Ben looked up from studying the food he had no intention of eating. “You were spectacularly unsuccessful last time. Take a hint, maybe?”

Gregory’s eyes widened, and he turned to Nikolas, palms held out imploringly. “You see how he treats me? Me! Your idol. Your mentor. Your…What was I to you, Aleksey? How I best describe it…?” He took a long, noisy suck of his soup. “Your saviour? Mmm, I like that. Yes. Saviour. So, where that waiter boy? You no eat your starter?” He pulled Ben’s chicken livers over to his side of the table and ate them with a flourish, washing them down with more wine. “I want be Charles.”

Ben glanced at Nikolas with a puzzled frown. Nikolas seemed just as mystified. The waiter arrived at that moment, so they stayed silent until he’d cleared the plates. He topped up their wine glasses, and Gregory took the opportunity to order a couple more bottles. When the waiter moved away, Gregory expanded on his theme. “I want be Charles Buckinghamshire. I think good English name. My English very perfect, and Charles Buckinghamshire perfect English gentleman. He have big house in country.”

“And your men?”

Gregory waved his hand, and Ben almost snorted—it was exactly the same annoying gesture of dismissal he’d had from Nikolas for the last four years. “They no matter. I no want them. Very common, Chechen. Phah. I want like Mr Rider here—best of British bodyguard. I want British butler. Very proper with little silver tray and accent
is that all m’lord
?”

The waiter arrived with the next course, steaks for Gregory and Ben, and braised celery for Nikolas. Gregory eyed the food and raised an eyebrow. “Where your meat? You like the meat. I remember you love the meat, Aleksey.” He laughed at his own joke, and began to demolish his ribeye. He held up a piece, chewing, contemplating his own genius. “Course, you had lovely vodka-pickled Chechen boy liver to eat…” He winked at Ben. “You no eat your steak? Tsk, tsk.” He looked between his dining companions and pouted. “You no much fun to go on date with.”

“Do we have an agreement?”

Gregory shrugged. “Maybe, maybe no. I have nice name. I have nice house. I have nice little butler with his shiny shoe. I want other things nice.” He smiled a little, contemplating a piece of steak. “Maybe I want you, Lyosha. You very nice, I remember.”

Nikolas leant back in his chair, dabbing at his lips with his napkin, although he’d not eaten a single thing. “You’re being rude, Gregory. This isn’t like you.”

“Like me. Ah. Yes. Because, of course, you know much about me. Last ten years not so much, I think. Ten years, Aleksey. Ten years a long time. I think you have it good here. You like this new
Nikolas
life, no? There, you have my answer. I have wants. I want name, house, and you. I say no more. We eat.” He waved toward the waiter and asked for the dessert menu. “What Tafferty? Aleksey, I like this Tafferty? Ack, I order and see. I very—what is that word?—eclectic, yes, I very eclectic in my taste. Ack, I tired of this English now. We speak in Russian.” And with that he fired off a long string of words at Nikolas, not addressing him directly but apparently absorbed by the ruby contents of his wine glass.

Nikolas on the other hand didn’t take his eyes off Gregory as he spoke. At the end, he just nodded then turned to Ben. “We’re going, come.”

Ben’s eyes flicked from the Russian to Nikolas, but he didn’t speak. As he stood, Nikolas reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of notes. Holding Gregory’s eye, he peeled off ten £50 notes and dropped them slowly on the table next to him, then with a frown and casual shrug, as if tipping an inconsequential porter and with no more concern for the amount, he dropped the rest of the roll. “I hope you enjoyed your meal. It’s on me, of course.”

Gregory flicked his eyes to the notes then back up to Nikolas. “You big man now, Aleksey. I see that. You no little Lyosha for me no more. But we know where we stand now, yes? All agreed.”

Nikolas nodded and walked away. Ben kept his eyes fixed on the Russian’s lowered head. The gun tucked into his waistband called to him. It would be so easy. Gregory smirked up at him as if reading his mind. “You should learn Russian, my friend. It is good language for matters of heart. They say Aleksey Primakov have no heart, but I always say you need to know where look, where he put it for safe keeping, then you find it easy. I see where he put it. You no use that gun here, eh? But maybe later. Maybe not.” He raised his glass to Ben and took a long, satisfied drink.

CHAPTER TWO

The ride back to the hotel was done in virtual silence. Nikolas looked very tired. Ben was just hungry, but that made him feel incredibly guilty, as he knew he ought to be thinking about something far more important than his stomach.

“We may have been followed from the restaurant.”

Ben glanced across at him and shook his head. “No, we weren’t. I’d have seen a tail.” Nikolas nodded, seemingly too tired to argue. To be sure, Ben got the driver to drop them a few streets away from their hotel at the entrance to Grosvenor Square gardens, and they waited, partially concealed, to see if anyone else stopped. When he was sure they were clear, Ben began to walk toward one the benches, far enough away from a streetlight so they could sit in darkness. He eased himself down and waited for Nikolas to join him. Eventually, he did, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, although it wasn’t cold. Ben said nothing. He just waited. Eventually, Nikolas sighed. “For God’s sake, say something, Benjamin.”

“How old is he?”

Nikolas turned his head sharply. “That’s it? That’s what you say, after all that?”

“Well?”

“I’ve no idea. How would I know how old he is? He’s fifty-eight, I believe. Why do you ask this?”

Ben shrugged. “So when you met he was…your age.”

Nikolas frowned. “I was nineteen. He would’ve been about thirty-five or six. Why these questions?”

It was Ben’s turn to frown. “Nineteen? I thought―So, you were still in prison when you met?”

Nikolas stood up abruptly. “I’m not comfortable sitting here. We’re too exposed. We should walk.”

“Your leg okay?”

“Yes, of course. I told you. All better.”

“That was one of your worst attempts to distract me, by the way. So―”

“This is all an old story. It’s not relevant.”

Ben stopped and caught at his arm. “Not relevant? You have to be kidding me. I was the only one at that table tonight not back in Russia playing out old games. Tell me.”

Nikolas shrugged his hand off and continued walking. “Gregory was Narodnyy Komissariat Vnutrennikh Del—you call it NKVD?”

“The gulag guards? You were in a
gulag
? Christ, Nik…”

“He was assigned there. For conducting of the executions. But he knew my father—had worked for him—and he…took a special interest in me. When things began to fall apart, he was recruited for more specialist work, and he took me with him. It’s all very simple and a very long time ago. Shall we return to the hotel now? My leg is hurting.”

Ben ignored this. “And, so, what? You were…together for twelve years? Before you…faked your death?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t like that
together
. You make all things in your own romantic image, Benjamin.”

Ben caught his arm again, this time not allowing Nikolas to shake him off. Nikolas turned to him, his face stony for a moment, but then he closed his eyes and put one hand to the back of Ben’s neck. “What do you want me to say,
min skat
? I told you once—you’re the only man I’ve ever willingly given my body to.” He laughed ruefully. “Until tonight, you were the only man I ever kissed.” He shook Ben slightly then opened his eyes and stared at him. “You try to make comparisons for things that can’t be compared. He was food, and he was safety. For a while, he was the life raft I clung to in a furious ocean.
You
are the conscious choice of my heart. Now, please, I’ll admit I’ve deliberately lied to you about one thing, my leg isn’t fine and it hurts. A great deal. Can I please be allowed to return to the hotel and lie down?”

They walked slowly back together, both deep in their own thoughts. As soon as they got into the room and had greeted Radulf sufficiently, Nikolas went to the phone and ordered a wide selection of room service meals, without consulting Ben. He only commented dryly, as he replaced the receiver, “You didn’t eat. I was more worried by that than the psychotic Russian at the table.” Ben began to smile. It turned into a laugh. He caught Nikolas around the waist and, ignoring his protests, fell with him onto the bed. They lay on their backs, side by side, contemplating the ceiling.

“So, good meeting then.”

Nikolas chuckled. “I don’t know, and I’m the one who speaks Russian. I think he’ll go for it. He wants it desperately. I don’t think he went there tonight to agree. But when he saw me, he realised he wanted what I represent—what I have.”

“I think he saw you and wanted you.”

“He said that to anger and embarrass me and to get a reaction from you. Take no notice.”

“Are you going to tell me what he told you at the end? The part I was deliberately excluded from?”

There was a discreet knock at the door, and Nikolas pushed at Ben’s arm. “Please. I’m too injured to rise again.”

Ben gave him a look as he stood. “That leg is beginning to get very convenient.”

“Can a leg ever not be convenient? What a strange mind you have, Benjamin.” Nikolas managed to sit up and limp bravely to the table where Ben unloaded the food.

Ben gave a sigh of relief and began to work his way through from one end of the selection to the other. He pushed a plate across to Nikolas. “You eat something.”

Nikolas nodded and actually began to eat an apple. “He wants another meeting. Just us—him and me, and he doesn’t want you there. That’s what he said.”

“That isn’t going to happen. Why wouldn’t he want me there unless he’s got some unpleasant plans for you? I was just sitting there saying fuck all.”

Nikolas’s eyes came slowly back to him. The expression in them was unbelievably sad. “Benjamin, everything said and done tonight was about you. From the moment he saw us from across the room. Everything.” He cast his gaze down for a moment as if trying to work out what to say then continued, “Imagine in twenty years time we meet again and haven’t seen each other since this moment. I look around for you and…you’re there with…”

“Me.”

“Yes. I think it threw him badly. He wasn’t…you didn’t see him at his best.”

Ben was having a hard time ignoring the clear contradiction between this and Nikolas’s previous claim about the emotional depth of his relationship with Gregory. Rather than challenge Nikolas, which Ben knew was a complete waste of time, he replied testily, “I don’t want to see him at all. I want the fucker dead.”

Nikolas didn’t reply to this. He put down his half-eaten apple and went to lean against the window, apparently watching the dark sky with total concentration.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day, they visited the mews house. Kate had created their fictional absence in France. They reported their return to the police and expressed their surprise at the apparent house invasion. When their story checked out, they were free to proceed in to assess the damage. Neither of them wanted to stay there. The smell hit them as soon as they entered, and the damage needed extensive repairs. They packed a few extra clothes, Nikolas took his laptop, and they headed back to the taxi.

“Where now? Another hotel?”

Nikolas shook his head. “We move maybe into another place I have.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It was an investment.”