Perfect Strangers

The hand was removed long enough for her to gasp: ‘I promise you, I don’t know.’

The squat man brought his knee up into Josh’s stomach, then backhanded him across the face, sending an arc of blood flying on to the tile.

‘Josh!’ she shouted.

‘Last chance, Miss Ellis,’ said Sergei.

‘You have to believe me,’ she pleaded. ‘I would tell you if I knew, but I really, really have no idea, he didn’t ever tell me—’

The hand covered her mouth again and she struggled in desperation, but whoever was holding her had an iron grip.

‘Very well, bring him,’ said Sergei.

Sophie watched in horror as two of the Russians picked up Josh and carried him to the edge of the pool. At a signal from Sergei, they plunged his head and shoulders under the water. He kicked his legs, thrashing his head from side to side, but his arms were pinned behind him.

She was screaming hysterically.

‘Josh! Josh! Please stop, I’ll do whatever you want, please!’

Sergei raised a hand and Josh was pulled out, coughing and retching.

‘Speak to me, Miss Ellis,’ he said.

She felt weak and delirious.

‘Maybe it’s at my parents’ house,’ she sobbed. ‘He had an office but that was cleared out when he retired. Everything was brought back home.’

The Russian pushed his face close to hers. ‘Do you take me for a simpleton?’ he hissed. ‘Do you wish to insult me? Of course we searched there, you stupid little girl. There was nothing.’

His blue eyes held hers as he said, ‘Again.’

Josh was pushed back into the pool. He fought harder this time, churning the blue water into a white froth, but gradually his movements became slower, less urgent.

‘You’re killing him!’ yelled Sophie. ‘Let him up!’

‘Tell me what I want to know,’ said Sergei.

‘I can’t,’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t. We’ve told you everything we know. You have to believe me.’

Sergei gazed at her for a moment longer, then gave the slightest shake of his head.

‘Get rid of them,’ he said.

Suddenly it went dark. For a moment Sophie was disorientated, then she felt the material on her face and realised a bag had been put over her head. Her arms were forced behind her back and her wrists bound with thin rope.

‘Please, don’t!’ she cried.

Then she heard a voice very close to her ear, deep and accented.

‘Speak or struggle again, I will cut your throat. Nod if you understand.’

She nodded.

Helpless and terrified, Sophie was roughly lifted, half carried, half marched, along a path. She had no idea where Josh was, or whether he was being taken to a similar fate. Frozen with terror, her mind sought out a happier, calmer place and she found herself thinking of her father, the last time he had taken her out on Iona, just before he died. Although it had been a

sad time for her dad, Sophie had loved that day out on the river, just the two of them, laughing and talking. Even then, Peter had still been full of his plans to get away, dreaming of that castle on a desert island just like he always had. I hope you’re there now, Daddy, she thought, her tears soaking into the rough fabric covering her face.

Suddenly there was a thunk and a sliding noise, then Sophie felt herself lifted and pushed down as an engine kicked into life. Of course, she was in the back of a van: she could smell the oil and feel the vibrations through the floor.