Gustav Züber smoothed back his silver hair with his palm, following each stroke with his tortoiseshell comb until every strand of his hair was perfectly in place. It was what he did whenever his anger got the better of him, a calming ritual of sorts. His thumb and index finger closed over the silver thumb notch on the vintage comb, which he then carefully placed back into its pewter case. Admiring the raised relief design on the comb case he took his time treasuring the moment before he neatly slipped it back inside the pocket of his suit's jacket. It was moments like these he made sure to savor after he got released from prison several years back. He was a man of impeccable taste and enjoyed the luxuries of life, even more now that he was able to enjoy them again.
His arthritic hands tidied the knot of his yellow silk tie as he took one final glance in the antique mirror before he turned to face his henchman. From beneath his bushy gray eyebrows, his near-black eyes were angry, a sign to his subordinate of what was to come. When he spoke his tone was steely, another sign that he was fighting hard to contain his anger.
"I was told you had experience, Ludwig. That your methods are far superior to those of your counterparts. So I find myself, how shall I say this, perplexed." He repositioned the Fabergé cufflinks that had once belonged to Edward VII before he spoke again. "I mean it's not like she is some super ninja with supernatural powers. She's a woman, nothing more. And by now, probably several pounds heavier, out of shape, and baking scones in an untidy kitchen with a couple of brats running around her. How hard could it have been, huh?"
"She had help, Herr Züber, a man."
Gustav's eyes narrowed.
"A man, one man. Tell me, Ludwig, how many men did you send after her?"
"My entire task team, six men in total."
"Six men. Against one woman, and a man. I don't know if I should laugh or cry. Does this not sound ridiculous to you? I mean, you had one job to do, Ludwig, and you failed, miserably. Tell me now, did I make a mistake hiring you?"
The man facing him squared his shoulders, pushed out his chin, and answered in a firm voice.
"I will get the job done, Herr Züber. She won't get away this time."
Gustav stepped three paces forward to close the gap between them, clasped his hands behind his back, and pushed his pointy jaw mere inches away from Ludwig's face.
"Good answer, because if you fail this time I will personally make sure you don't see another sunrise. My time in prison might have aged me but it has also taught me a few new skills that even an old man like me can utilize with ease. It has taken me years to track her down, years, and I will risk everything to finally give her what she deserves. Do not mess it up. Now get out of my face before I regret giving you another chance."
His hired hand did not hesitate and promptly spun on his heels and left.
Jorja was still pacing the floor, her body tense and her emotions running wild. Driven by fear and uncertainty she moved across the floor like a deer trapped between hunters.
"I should have known it was just a matter of time before he'd find me. How he did, I would not know. You couldn't even find me. But that rose, I was right. It was intended to scare me. Artem Sokolov is not a man to mess with. I was convinced he was KGB then and I'm even more convinced of it now."
"Okay, you need to get a hold of yourself, Georgina. There is no evidence he is behind any of this."
"You're joking, right, Ben? How do you not see it? It's right there, on your computer screen, a whole bunch of roses just like the one used to kill Myles. We need to send it to Ewan," she caught her breath as she spoke the words, then hurried to her bag on the couch in search of her phone. She had forgotten to check in on him.
"Who's Ewan? Ah, not to worry, his name was in the police report. He's the detective inspector on the case, the one who got shot by the guy who attacked you in your gallery."
She nodded as her eyes scanned over the messages and five missed call notifications on her phone.
Her fingers hastily glided across her phone's screen before she placed it firmly against her ear.
"Charlie, it's me, Jorja."
"Jorja, where are you? I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Yes, sorry, I got your messages, I was just... why, what happened?"
She bit her lip and sent up a prayer not knowing if God would even listen.
"It's Ewan, he's had to go back in for a second surgery. Something about bone fragments that got into one of his veins. It's not looking too good, Jorja."
He paused, then continued.
"Where are you, anyway? I went looking for you at your house but you didn't answer the door."
"I just needed to get some fresh air, Charlie, sorry. I will be home soon. Is he going to be okay?"
"They don't know. All we can do is pray for him and let God do the rest."
She ended the call, her heart encumbered with a mixture of guilt and anger.
Ben's eyes traced the lines of her face.
"How ignorant of me? Here I was, spilling my guts over my dead wife, declaring my undying love to you, and all the while you have a bloke back home."
"It's not like that, Ben."
"No? Seems like it to me. New name, new life, new love. I get it, it's blatantly obvious."
"No, it's not, Ben! Ewan is just a friend. A very dear friend who is fighting for his life in the hospital as we speak, and it's entirely my fault. Everywhere I go people get hurt. My parents, you, Myles, and now Ewan. It has been a lifetime of guilt over what I did to you. But I didn't have a choice. It's like I attract death or something. It doesn't matter what I do or how far I run, it always catches up with me. That's why I left! I had to, so you wouldn't get hurt."
She snatched her bag up and threw it over her back.
"I've got to go. I'm sorry, it was a mistake coming here."
Ben was quick on his feet to catch her by the arm.
"Don't go, not like this, okay? I'm sorry. I broke my number one rule yet again. And you are wrong by the way; you are an angel but not an angel of death. I'm here for you, Georgina, Jorja, whoever you want to be. I will always be here for you, no matter what."
His ice-blue eyes had turned the warm, inviting turquoise color of an ocean paradise that instantly set her soul at ease. He was the only man she had ever loved, that would never change. Their souls were bound together no matter how much she tried to fight it.
Her mind flooded with the prophetic words the unknown patient in the chapel had imparted. It could not have been truer. She had to face her past; it was the only way.
"I can't stay, Ben," she whispered. "I have to finish this. I have been in hiding for twenty years and I cannot run anymore. If I run, I am nothing but a coward, a fraud."
His strong hands cupped her face.
"I couldn't agree more, but if you think I am going to let you go about it alone you're making a mistake."
"No, Ben, I can't risk it. You almost got killed earlier. Sokolov wants me, not you. I guess he has his score to settle after what I did to him. If I can find a way to pay him back the money, hopefully, he will back off, before someone else gets hurt."
"Georgina, it's not that easy, and you know it. He has money. The man is filthy rich and quite possibly involved with the KGB. You said it yourself. Artem Sokolov wants vengeance, and he won't stop until he gets it."
Jorja couldn't deny it. Everything Ben said made perfect sense. She couldn't do it on her own. Artem was a powerful man and she’d betrayed his trust, destroyed his reputation in the most embarrassing way possible. To meet his wrath on her own was insane, suicidal. She needed Ben now more than ever.
As if Ben knew she was still not convinced, he added,
"I can be of value to you, Georgina, help you, protect you, you know that. We've done it before and we can do it again, even after twenty years. We were a team once and we can be it again. It's like riding a bicycle," he winked, then almost instantly his face turned serious. "Besides, I don't think you have all the facts straight. Something doesn't quite add up."