Chapter 26
987 Words
26
Mikhail Gushkin watched the ripple of the waves disappearing off onto the horizon as the yacht bobbed gently on the water. He was suitably bronzed, and wasn’t particularly looking forward to returning to Europe in three days’ time, although he’d be back out here next month.
It was the only time he got alone, the only space he had to himself. Even the owner of a huge property portfolio and business empire needed a bit of downtime occasionally. True enough, most of the donkey work had been delegated to others, but he was still the boss, still the decision maker. Sometimes, those decisions had to be made sooner rather than later.
He was free of most distractions whilst he was on the yacht. He ensured his mobile phone was switched off and that only a select few people had the number for the secure, encrypted on-board telephone, which he had assured them was only for use in emergencies. By emergencies, Mikhail meant life or death situations.
He closed his eyes and tuned into the music playing through the sound system. It had cost him an extra $40,000 for the upgrade, but it was worth every penny. He didn’t know a thing about classical music, but loved to have it playing while he was on the yacht. It relaxed him, listening to the smooth violin and lilting bassoon.
Relaxation was something that was otherwise hard to come by in his line of work, but he made sure he prioritised his trips out here. He knew people who liked to use their yachts for entertaining. It was an almost constant stream of parties, free-flowing drink and loose women. But that wasn’t Mikhail’s style. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let anyone else on board who wasn’t there to service the engine or repair the ice machine in the kitchen. That bloody ice machine was the bane of his life.
He didn’t even need to hear the electronic beep of the yacht’s on-board phone ringing — the dip in the music a second before was, unfortunately, all too familiar.
He stood up and walked over to the door, picking up the receiver on the wall next to it.
‘Da?’
It was Anatoly, his childhood friend and now manager of his UK-based properties.
‘Miki, we have a problem,’ Anatoly said, speaking in Russian.
‘What sort of problem?’ Mikhail answered, also in the native tongue, knowing that Anatoly would not call unless it was a serious matter.
‘It’s connected with what we spoke about a couple of days ago.’
Mikhail rubbed his brow. Why couldn’t Anatoly just get to the point? Had the stupid fuckers gone and got caught? Was there an evidence trail leading right back to him? Were the local gendarmes clambering on board a speedboat right at that moment?
‘What about it? Tell me.’
‘They brought in two new boys, to replace them. They’ve… they’ve escaped.’
‘Escaped? What do you mean escaped?’
‘I mean they escaped. They’re gone.’
Mikhail gritted his teeth. He knew it had been wrong to take a holiday. This was exactly why he needed the time to relax — because he had f*****g idiots in charge at home, which was precisely the reason why he needed to be there all the time to keep an eye on them.
He knew there was no way this was sustainable. He was going to have to do something serious and final about that place. The last two boys had become a liability. They’d been pushing and probing too far, and it didn’t do to have that kind of atmosphere about the place.
He couldn’t see why they’d wanted to cause trouble in the first place. They were given shelter, free accommodation and were kept safe from the real scumbags out on the streets. To him, of course, they were just a commodity and a means of making money, but he believed some people had to know their place in life. And this was theirs.
When he’d given the order to get rid of them, he’d known the risks. Dead bodies have to be hidden somewhere, and there was always a risk of them being found. Still, he paid his men more than enough to ensure they did their job properly. And, if they didn’t, they’d be the next ones under six feet of earth — and he certainly made sure they knew that.
‘Find them,’ he said. ‘Find them and get rid of them.’
‘That would be very risky right now,’ Anatoly said.
‘It’s f*****g risky to leave them running around the streets. You don’t know who they’re speaking to. Find them and get rid of them.’
‘What if they’ve already spoken to someone?’
Mikhail considered this for a minute. If the boys had already told someone about the brothel and then ended up dead, it wouldn’t be difficult for a copper with half a brain cell to pull everything together. But, as things stood, he was already far too over-exposed. If it got out and was traced back to him, he’d be down for years anyway. Sometimes you had to go all-in if you wanted to build your chip stack back up again.
‘There’s something else,’ Anatoly said, taking a deep breath. ‘The last two. Our guys were disturbed. They heard sirens in the distance.’
‘Disturbed how?’
Mikhail heard Anatoly sigh. ‘They didn’t do as thorough a job as they would’ve liked. It was… shallow. And exposed.’
Mikhail had known Anatoly long enough to recognise in the tone of his voice when there was something he was holding back. ‘They’ve been found, haven’t they?’
‘Yes.’
Mikhail felt the blood rising in his temples as he tried to push back his anger and think rationally, but it was far from easy. What was most important was ensuring silence. Even if the boys had already spoken, there was nothing anyone could do without witnesses in court. As long as they were taken care of long before then, things should still be safe.
‘Find the new boys. And take care of them.’
‘Are you sure?’ Anatoly asked.
‘Yes. I’m sure. Get the same guys to do it. The guys who f****d it up last time. Make sure they know this is their last chance. Then, when they’ve done it, get rid of them too.’
‘Mikhail, that’s—’
‘Do it, Anatoly.’
Anatoly had been friends with Mikhail for long enough to know when his friend was serious. Deadly serious.
- Writer
