Two operatives dug for hours to create a hole underneath the wall of Ivan's estate big enough to wriggle through. they'd cursed the iron-hard ground which had been baked solid by the late summer sun. Alerted by Darius to the presence of laser wire along the top, they'd correctly worked out that the only way in was to go under.
Both dressed in black, they kept in the shadows, working out where the cameras were pointed. Their target was the magnificent silver Bentley parked to the side of the house, in front of the bank of garages. Silently, they crept along the wall until it was just six feet in front. One would keep lookout, while the other rolled under the car to do the business that they'd come for. It wasn't the first time they'd carried out such an operation.
“Camera above second window,” whispered Luke. “It's not trained on the car though.” He stayed by the wall, while his partner, Mike, rolled neatly under the Bentley.
Silence. Nobody came out.
Mike positioned himself under where the driver's seat would be. He pulled out a tiny hand-cranked drill and carefully made a hole into the car above, hidden underneath the seat. With practiced ease, he attached the cassette-shaped device to the bottom of the car, first feeding its little hose through into the interior. It was so small and so discreet, not one police examination had ever discovered one, especially as it was well-disguised to look like part of the car.
Inside the device was two cartridges of gas. The first one, primed to start pumping its contents into the car at fifty miles an hour, thanks to a motion sensor embedded in it, would make the inhabitants euphoric, happy, and reckless. When the car hit eighty, the second chamber would be emptied, a high-tech derivative of Zyklon B, the gas that had been used during the holocaust. The new version left no trace, either in the car, or the bodies of those it killed at high speed. It was one of their most effective tools.
Happy that it was securely attached, Mike rolled back out and slithered back to the wall. Within a few moments, he and Luke were back out and filling in the hole they'd dug. Viktor, who was on duty that night, never saw a thing.
Elle woke early. She'd had a terrible night, laying in bed going over and over the events of the previous day in her mind, wondering if there was anything she could've said or done to stop Lucy leaving and going where she went. She was almost certain that Lucy hadn't mentioned anything about going to see that Penfold woman. It didn't stop her from running their conversation through her mind repeatedly until she'd dropped off from sheer exhaustion. She glanced at the clock, it was only half-five. She turned her head to see Bella laying beside her, nestled against Ivan's body, his arm around her, making an extremely comfortable dog cradle. She suspected that Tania might be in a similar position on the other side of him, judging by the snores emanating from that direction. She reached over to give Bella's ear a little rub, prompting her to give a contented sigh.
Ivan was out cold, his face relaxed and boyish as it always was when he was asleep. Elle took a moment to admire his masculine beauty. He had sexy weekend stubble, which simply served to make him more handsome, if that was at all possible. His soft, full lips were parted allowing a glimpse of his white, perfect teeth.
Elle smiled at him before slipping her feet out of bed and padding silently across the expanse of cream carpet to their bathroom, where she switched on the powerful shower and stood underneath, lathering herself up. She jumped as Ivan appeared beside the glass, her eyes dropping to his impressive morning erection. “Well, good morning to you too,” she purred.
“Can I scrub your back?” He asked, his erection twitching in her direction. He stepped into the shower and stood behind her. She turned around to face him, a sexy smirk on her face.
“You can do more than that.” She watched as he picked up the body wash and squeezed some into his hands. As he swept the lather over her skin, he set nerve endings alight across her body. She loved Ivan's touch, always gentle, but firm as though he didn't believe her to be made of glass.
His hands worked their way down lower, across her bump, which he loved to stroke, culminating in his fingers dipping in-between her legs. She sucked in a breath and let him play a while, enjoying his expert ministrations, while the sweet scent of her vanilla body wash filled the steamy enclosure.
“I need you inside me,” she begged, as his talented fingers took her almost to the edge. Carefully, he lifted her and braced her back against the cool tiled wall. Gently and slowly, he eased himself into her, while her legs hung limp over his arms, trusting him totally to bear her weight. Ivan closed his eyes as he moved, sliding in and out rhythmically, just enjoying the closeness of their bodies. Truth be known, Lucy's death had caused a loop to form in his overactive mind, taunting him how easy it was to lose a wife. He couldn't even begin to imagine what Oscar was going through.
He needed to feel Elle, taste her, smell her sweet scent, remind himself that she was real, alive, and totally his. He became aware of her hand sliding off his shoulder, between them, to her clit. He leaned forward and kissed her, pressing his tongue against hers, exploring her mouth. He wanted to be inside her in every possible way.
He swallowed her cries as she came, her entire body pulsating with the sensations he was inflicting on her. He felt his cock flooded with her wetness. it tipped him over the edge and he came too.
They both stayed joined for a minute, hot water pouring over them as they simply needed closeness, to feel that the other was real. Eventually, Ivan softened and slipped out of her. He set her down gently. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed that.” He brushed the water from his face. Elle smiled as she saw his eyelashes had gone spiky, as though he'd used mascara. They framed his deep, sapphire eyes beautifully. She sensed his sadness.
“I struggled to sleep. Yesterday was just… such a shock. Her poor family,” Elle said. Ivan pushed her wet hair back from her face.
“I know Malyshka, if anything happened to you...” he paused. “My life would be over. I keep running it like a tape through my mind.”
She kissed his nose. “You need to keep busy, too busy to have thought loops.”
“You're right. What's your schedule today?” He began to lather his body. Elle would've quite happily just stood and watched. She pulled herself together.
“Meeting my personal shopper at the penthouse. I did tell you on Friday. After that, I'll pop into the office, I've got some paperwork I want to clear up. You?”
“I'm meeting Kristov first thing in my office. He's bringing some extra guards for us. I want to up our security details for a while.”
“You think Darius had something to do with Lucy's murder, don't you?” She challenged. He shrugged. He didn't know how they could've pulled it off so quickly. It was just a gut feeling. “I don't know, but it doesn't hurt to have more security.”
“Kristov always sends Russians though,” Elle whined. It wasn't that she minded having burly guards trailing around after her, she'd had to get used to it, it was more the fact that it was impossible to chat to them, to get to know them as she had with Roger.
“Indulge me,” he implored. “I'll see if Kristov can find you some non-Russians, but for now we just put up with whoever he finds.”
Elle sighed. “Alright, but you'll ask him, promise?”
He kissed her lips. “I promise. You'll take the girls with you, yes?”
“Of course.”
They dried off and dressed, Ivan in a navy suit, Elle in a comfortable wrap dress, before heading downstairs to the kitchen, where Ivan made coffee and Elle put some bread in the toaster. She'd lost her appetite somewhat after the shock of the day before, but knew she had to keep her strength up. She quickly took the girls outside while the toast was doing.
At half-seven, Ivan called Nico to tell him they'd be ready to leave shortly. He filled the girl's water bottles before fixing their collars, kissing each one on the nose as he did up the buckle. “You're going to be good girls again this week. Don't forget your lessons,” he reminded them.
“They'll still play up when Mrs Watton looks after them, she indulges them too much,” Elle said as they stepped out of the front door.
The two Bentleys were parked side-by-side on the large, gravel driveway, Nico having got the other one out of the garage, ready. “See you at the office this afternoon,” Elle said, as she shepherded the two spaniels into the back, then hopped in. Roger closed the door and got into the driver's seat.
“See you later,” Ivan said, blowing her a kiss as he walked round to the other one. Nico hurried to hold the door open.
“Am I expected to wear that ridiculous chauffeur's hat again?” He asked in Russian. Ivan grinned at him.
“That's a great idea,” he teased. “Oh hold on, I forgot the files I need for that meeting later. I won't be a minute.” He disappeared back into the house as Elle was driven through the gates. He jogged through to the study and found the offending files on his desk, he gathered them up and was just heading back out when Jo arrived. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly.
“Morning,” she replied, “are you just off? I heard about your friend over at the castle. Terrible business wasn't it?”
“Dreadful,” Ivan agreed. “Yes, just off. The organic regime seemed to have worked well? The food this weekend was superb.”
“There's a couple of organic farms nearby. I sourced the beef from one of them. I'm pleased you enjoyed it.”
“We did. Anyway, I'd better be off. See you soon.” He stepped outside, closing the door behind him and jumped into the car.
Ivan quite liked it when it was just him and Nico. They could speak in Russian, and Nico always had a funny story to share from his days off. He maintained a small apartment in London and seemed to spend his downtime getting into drunken scrapes with his louche mates and various gangster groupie women, tales of which he entertained Ivan with whenever they did a long drive alone.
As Elle and Roger passed through Derwent towards the A road, they didn't see the black Audi parked in a side street. “That's them,” Luke exclaimed as the Bentley sped past. “Mission accomplished.” He started the engine and pulled out the opposite way. They'd decided not to follow the Bentley, in case it drew attention. The device had never failed. As they drove towards Brighton, Mike called Darius to let him know the mission had been successful.
Darius had gotten into his office early, which wasn't unusual. Arabella always knew never to object or ask for an explanation as to why he needed to set off in the early hours. He'd been almost jumpy sitting by his phone, waiting for the call. After he'd replaced the receiver, he immediately dialled Oscar.
Oscar saw Darius' number flash up on the screen of his mobile. He debated whether or not to answer it, his thumb hovering over the 'accept' button. In the end, he reasoned that Darius would simply call his landline instead, so he took a deep breath and pressed the green button. “Hi.” He said rather flatly.
“Good news. All threats are neutralised. You can relax now,” Darius said brightly.
“What?” Oscar asked, “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Darius sighed. “The Ruskie. We rigged his car. Should have crashed by now.”
Cold terror raced through Oscar's nervous system. “Elle,' he croaked, unable to get his words out.
“Collateral damage, I'm afraid,” Darius said cheerfully.
The phone went dead. “Ungrateful bastard,” Darius said to the silent phone.
Oscar was in an almost blind panic. With shaking hands, he scrolled through his phone to find Elle's number. He pressed it. It seemed to take ages to connect. He cursed the mobile reception in Sussex. Eventually, it began to ring.
He closed his eyes and prayed. One ring.
It rang again. He hoped that she was fumbling around in her bag for her phone.
Third ring. he prayed that she wasn't laying in the remnants of a crushed Bentley, that it wasn't too late.
She answered. “Hello Oscar, how’s--”
He cut her off, “Get out of the car,” he yelled. “The car's rigged. Get out.”
He shouted so loudly that Roger heard him and screeched to a halt on the hard shoulder of the A21. Cars shot by going past, as he jumped out of the driver's door and raced around to the passenger side to get the dogs out.
“I'm fine though,” said Elle, bewildered. Then realisation hit. She cut him off. “Ivan's in the other car.” She prodded her phone and dialled Ivan, although Roger was already calling Nico. Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited for him to pick up.
“Hey baby, what's up?” He slurred, when he eventually picked up. By that point Elle was frantic.
“Get out of the car. The car’s rigged. Get out,” she screamed.
“Chill baby, we're good. Nico's gonna open this monster up, see what she can do,” he slurred.
“Stop the car and get out NOW,” she shouted. She noticed that Roger was yelling into his phone too, turned away from her. He couldn't bear to look at her.
Ivan's car began to nudge almost eighty miles an hour. “We better stop, see what she's moaning about,” Elle heard Ivan say to Nico as his foot pressed down on the accelerator.
“Spoilsport,” she heard Nico say as he began to brake. It was too late. The gas began its insidious journey into the car. The smell of almonds alerted Nico, who stamped on the brake.
“Look,” Roger called out as the Bentley came into view, skidding around the dual carriageway. Elle could hear the screech of brakes as the car shot past. She watched helplessly as it skidded off the road and hit a tree, before bursting into flames.
It seemed to Elle as though it happened in slow motion. She heard herself scream as Roger thrust the dog's leads into her hands. She dropped her phone as she held on tight to the girls, who were barking loudly.
Running towards a burning car went against every bit of both instinct and training that Roger had ever had. He was paid handsomely to take a bullet for his boss, he reasoned as he raced towards the wreckage. It was the only chance he would ever have to pull Ivan out alive.
He could smell petrol as he approached, acrid in his lungs, the heat from the fire singeing his nostrils. He grabbed the rear door, ignoring the pain of the skin of his hands burning. Ivan was slumped in the seat, his phone still in his hands.
Roger didn't bother to check if he was still alive, just unclipped his seat belt then grabbed him under his arms and hauled him out. He was heavy, a dead weight. The fire burned stronger, licking across the roof of the car, across the floor, melting the cream carpet as it went. Adrenaline kicked in. With almost superhuman strength, Roger threw Ivan over his shoulder and ran towards Elle and the dogs.
He'd made about twenty paces when the car blew, the flames having reached the petrol tank. The force of the blast knocked him over. He landed face-down on the Tarmac with Ivan a crumpled heap on top of him. Elle was crouched over the dogs, shielding them from the debris raining down on them all. Nico never stood a chance. For a few minutes there was silence as both Elle and the onlookers tried to take in what had just happened.
Sirens were in the distance, blue lights racing towards them, called by the drivers who were stopped on the carriageway, having seen the crash. Traffic began to tail back, causing the emergency services to switch to the hard shoulder. A middle-aged lady got out of her car and ran over to Elle. “Are you ok, my love? The ambulance is on its way.” She could make out the blue lights behind the queues of traffic forming. She picked up Elle's phone and bag from the ground and tucked the phone in the front pocket for her.
“My husband,” was all Elle could say, turning her head towards where Ivan and Roger lay. She could see that neither of them were moving. She became aware of the dogs whimpering.
“Are you alright?” Asked the woman, checking Elle over. “and what about these two lovelies?” She bent down to stroke Tania, who was cowed underneath Elle. Bella barked and tried to dart out towards Ivan. Luckily, Elle had the leads in a vice-like grip. “Come on, sit down and keep hold of those two doggies,” the woman said, helping Elle into a sitting position on the ground. “My name's Donna. I think you're going into shock.” She'd noticed Elle was as white as a sheet.
Other people had started getting out of their cars. Someone ran over to Ivan and Roger. “They look dead to me,” Elle heard him say to someone else. She closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up in their enormous bed, with the spaniels snoring beside them.
“Paramedics are here,” she heard Donna say before she passed out.