Chapter 23
Despite it being counter to his better judgement, Colby had really been left with no option but to briefly leave Natasha alone in the flat while he undertook a little business. The people who deal in false papers, of the sort that Natasha needed, did not like to be seen trading under the antiseptic glare of daylight. Nine o'clock at the 'Cock and Bull' carpark. Take it or leave it... Come alone... Bring cash.
He wanted to give Natasha a safe identity, make her as untraceable as possible... Take it or leave it... his contact had said. So Colby took it.
Valentina had convinced him to take care of Natasha after she had been recovered off the coast of Sicily, to take her safely to England until she could arrange a permanent future for the child. Despite his anger towards Valentina, the call for help was not one he could ignore, there was a debt he owed to the child and a thread of closeness that had woven Natasha into his affections during their shared journey. The call for help had left him with no options and he had wanted none. Since that fraught conversation he had heard nothing at all from Valentina. He had no idea what plans she had made for the girl's future or if she had any plans at all. He was on his own, ill equipped to take the long term responsibility for a teenage girl. He needed advice, he needed to talk to Valentina but she was silent, unobtainable. Nothing new there he thought. Damn her beautiful eyes.
Colby was only away from home for half an hour, three quarters at most. But the instant he returned to his flat now shrouded in darkness he regretted the stupidity of leaving her. There was no answer to his call up the stair to her small room. He made a rapid search of the entire flat, saw that her new coat was missing. The one that she was so proud of that apparently Valentina had chosen for her in Marseille just a short while ago. He tried to focus his mind, concentrate on the facts. There were only two reasonable possibilities: either she had decided to go out alone, despite his warning, or someone had found her and she had been abducted again. If she had been taken then there was little constructive he could do in the short term so he concentrated on the other, the less harrowing scenario.
He knew she couldn't have gone far; the chances were that she had just slipped out for a quick walk, a moment of exploration, and would be back soon. But the thought of calmly waiting, doing nothing was unsupportable. However unlikely the possibility, he struggled to rid his thoughts of Sachovian agents, of kidnapping, of God knows what. After all she had gone through, the child was still so vulnerable. At least there was no sign of a struggle at the flat which Colby took as a positive... In the end he went back out into the wet night and ran calling her name across the dark streets like an idiot.
He ran to the corner of Woodstock and turned up Blackchurch Hill past the bustling McDonald’s then cut back to Bridge End, round the corner to the fish and chip shop, on past the broad florists' window. There was no sign of her anywhere. He stopped to catch his breath trying to think where she might have gone. A woman dressed in a bright red rain mac was walking her wheezy fat little dog along the glistening street weaving her way around the puddles in her un-sensible shoes.
"You haven't seen a teenage girl, short hair in a beige coat?" He asked.
"No sorry honey... I ain't seen no girl. She run away?"
"I'm not sure..."
"Maybe she go up McDonald’s on Blackchurch, maybe she got friends up there."
"Maybe... thanks." He said.
He walked on breaking into a slow jog as he crossed the road towards the petrol station. He asked the young, nose pierced, attendant if he had seen a girl but was greeted with nothing more communicative than a shrug of disinterest. Despite wanting to beat some intelligent response out of the boy, he moved on through the rain leaving the teen unmolested with the pain of his own sad life to endure. Colby leaned against a red brick wall that glistened wet under the street lights. He thought of the promise he had made to Natasha on Ikinos. It seemed like half a lifetime ago since he was on that sun-drenched place. He recalled the promise he had made to her when they had first met. He had been making a clumsy attempt to try and bond with her. But his promise now weighed heavily on him, a promise to always keep her safe. It's what I do he had said... trust me...
Colby's eyes seemed to lose focus in a blur of rain and car headlights, an elegant woman hurried past sheltering under the sweep of her umbrella. She reminded Colby a little of Valentina, the way she held herself, the confident stride. Where are you Valentina?... I really thought we had found each other again. The woman continued until she made a quick dash across the road he followed her with his eyes as she came level with a black cab shrouded in the misty haze. He looked down at his feet then back up towards the cab. Pushing himself away from the wall he jogged up the road and saw a girl apparently talking to the cab driver. She was indistinct but what really caught his attention was the stylish coat she was wearing, the way she stood with the weight on one leg like the time he had first seen her gazing across the ocean on Ikinos.
"Natasha." Colby yelled across the noise of the traffic. He saw her head turn towards him and pulled by some instinctive emotion he ran into the road with little more than a cursory look at the approaching traffic. He dodged the glancing blow of a bright blue British Gas Transit Van that had hardly registered in his peripheral vision. Then rebounding, he nearly tumbled into the path of a party-girl at the wheel of her Mini. The Mini driver blowing her horn with unnecessary aggression that still barely managed to register on Colby's focus. Finally he made the safety of the footpath and ran towards Natasha. She had seemed to be balanced on the point of getting into the cab but now she turned and recognised him.
"It's all right," She said to the driver. "It's my Dad."
"You're her Dad mate?" The driver asked as Colby took Natasha's hand with what might have been mistaken for paternal concern.
"Yes... I am." Colby said as he gathered his breath and looked suspiciously at the driver.
"OK... well take good care of her, there's no telling what harm she could come to out alone like this."
"Yes mate... Sorry for your trouble." Colby said.
The cab drove away in a flurry of tyre spray and Colby was still not quite convinced of the driver's motives.
Natasha lifted her eyes to Colby.
"We'll have to talk about taking lifts from strangers." Colby said. Natasha could see no anger just relief in his expression.
"OK... Dad..." She said with an almost cheeky grin. "but I know all about that stuff, I'm not a kid."
"I know... you told me. Are you OK?"
"I am now... I just wanted a look round. I got lost then a bit scared."
"I know... Me too."
"Can we go home now?" She said. Colby nodded. "What's going to become of me Colby, am I going to stay with you forever?"
"I don't know... Would you like that?" Natasha shrugged. A sudden fear of rejection forced her from probing her true feelings too deeply. "Look Natasha... I need to talk with Valentina about it... I think she seems to have taken it on herself to become your guardian."
"Really... did she say so?"
"My recent conversations with her have been... a little fraught."
"Don't hate her Colby... I've mostly forgiven her for what she did... I can't believe she meant to harm me, I think it was all just confusion in her mind. I can forget it. I might only be a kid but I know the difference between good people and bad people."
"And Valentina is one of the good ones?"
"You don't need me to tell you that... do you?"
They walked on through the rain hand in hand.
"So... Dad... I've got something to ask..."
"I'm not sure you should call me Dad." Colby said. Natasha laughed, teasing him but pulling herself closer as they walked.
"So can I ask you my question?"
"You can ask me anything anytime Cup-Cake."
"OK... Can we... maybe get Fish and Chips on the way back?"
...
Still in Marseille, Julia Klimentovà had been closely following the Falcon's
progress since she discovered it had left Marseille. Although the boat's course was far from direct, pulling out to sea and then curving back close to the French coast, it seemed certain to Julia that since crossing the coast off Brest, Valentina was now heading for Britain and seemed to be making directly for Falmouth. As long as the tracker kept sending its signal she would know to the metre where the Falcon was. The problem Julia now faced was that the tracker's batteries were nearing the end of their life expectancy and that meant she would have to act soon or risk losing contact. If the Falcon did not make landfall within the next few days, she would have to make a more direct approach. As a last resort Koch had arranged access to a helicopter and Julia was able to summon sufficient fire power to sink the ketch. Such an act would however attract far too much unwanted publicity and a covert action would suit her purpose far more satisfactorily.
The incident at the Marseille café had left Julia shaken. She was now even more aware of how formidable an adversary Valentina was but even the warning she had been forcefully given was not enough to sway her from her mission. She had a job to do and like a terrier at a rabbit warren, she would see it through to the gory end.
Valentina set a course for Falmouth, it was not her destination but she had no intention of making that obvious to any eyes in the sky. In these waters the sky was no stranger to light aircraft and any one of them was a potential threat to her security. It had now been over a day since Julia, still in Marseille, had checked on the Falcon's position. The ketch was now in the middle of the channel, roughly mid way between Brest and Falmouth. Despite the change of seasons a high pressure zone had settled over the area with an unseasonal calmness. With low winds the boat would be slowed and Julia's concern over the battery life started to grow. She noted with interest and surprise when the GPS tracker indicated that the boat had made a sharp turn to the north east. Julia reconsidered her conclusion, it now became more reasonable to assume that Valentina was making not for England but for the Channel Islands. It would take another day of sailing to confirm the destination but her intuition seemed to tell the SSB agent that the little group of islands was where she would finally confront Valentina Gussev.
This time, Julia thought, she would not be so easily outmanoeuvred by the war heroine. There was more than a trace of sadness for her in being the one chosen to end the life of such a Sachovian patriot. But it was her job, not for her the concerns and strictures of the dubious ethics. That responsibility rested elsewhere; Julia Klimentovà would lose no sleep over the matter. In that respect the two women, so similar in many ways, sat at opposite poles. Valentina's conscience still pricked sharply at her in the small hours for what she had done as a consequence of the 06 war.
Now with a new darkness falling over Sachovia, Valentina wanted nothing but to finally escape the conflict of her homeland and find some peace. It was Guernsey where she now hoped to find that absolution and she turned the Midnight Falcon towards that beckoning home with the expectation that her whereabouts might no longer be of concern to the likes of Boris Koch. She sailed on towards Guernsey with the hope that her presence on the Island would not in any way bring the Sachovian troubles with her to contaminate the peaceful Bailiwick.
The hours rolled by, the progress slow in the still air. Valentina had hoped to make landfall by mid afternoon, now the evening seemed more likely and if the wind continued to falter there was a risk of becoming completely becalmed. She eased her heading to try and catch a stronger flow of wind funnelled up along the Cherbourg coast. Valentina was now laying to the south of Guernsey riding a gentle swell in light air. It would certainly be late in the day before she would sight Guernsey and the secret little cove that lay beneath her modest cottage. She had endured days with little sleep; her intention to rest a few days at Marseille had fallen away by the appearance of the young protégé Julia Klimentovà but there was more than the prospect of sleep that drove her on. Her friend Katrina would be there, someone who knew who she was, warts and all, and still cared for her.
As the Falcon continued to make slow but steady progress, Valentina had come to trust the feel of her boat to show her the way to sail with the least effort. She had learned a lot from the boat – that you needed to work with the elements not fight against them. If you battled the elements they would ultimately destroy you. Valentina had come to see that the same was true when dealing with human nature. Her time at sea had left Valentina feeling that she was at one with the Midnight Falcon and she would just as soon lose her as she would a living friend. But Valentina had spent too long alone with only the spirit of a ketch for a companion. She needed human contact and although she had shared her joys, confided her darkest thoughts with the old timbers and had taken the boat's silent reply as a comfort, it was no longer enough.
Julia Klimentovà followed the GPS signal as Valentina's destination was now confirmed. The trajectory left no doubt, there could be no other landfall but the island of Guernsey. A quiet place away from the eyes of the media that were finally now focussing with consternation on the crisis in Sachovia. Guernsey, a quiet place to find a haven. A quiet place to meet your end... Julia Klimentovà booked a flight.
...
After less than a week on Guernsey, Katrina now had two job offers. One, a conventional position working in a restaurant, the sort of job she had hoped to find in order to establish herself. It represented the opportunity of a first step into what she hoped was to be a long term commitment to Guernsey. But the other offer held, quietly understood but unstated, something much more than just a job. She was drawn emotionally towards the second opportunity with John but it also terrified her with the speed it had arisen. She needed time but maybe delay would be seen as disinterest. After her disastrous and short lived relationship with Andrej, Katrina was wary of allowing her reason to be sacrificed to the call of her heart and so she waited, unable to commit to either course of action.
Katrina had finally established phone contact with Natasha. She was too young to offer any great wisdom but it was good to bounce thoughts off someone close to you. Although interested to hear about John Le Pevost, Natasha had been more interested in news of Valentina but Katrina knew no more than Natasha did herself. In her turn Natasha could offer no news of what her own future held. She told Katrina that she was happy with Colby but she needed permanence, she needed to resume her schooling that had been put on hold for too long and she was unsure whether Colby was in a position to provide any of that. Natasha needed Valentina back in her life; she needed a family.
Katrina had eaten a light meal and was quietly pondering her options when she felt the need to go out into the freshness of the evening air. She felt drawn to go out into the garden where the shadows were lengthening and the air seemed to quickly suck up the fragile warmth of the day. She looked across the bare trees that raked up into the clear sky, past them across the rolling fields to Le Moulin farm that snuggled in the gentle hollow. Through the swaying dark branches she could see a light from the window and imagined John and his mother Mary whom she had quickly come to feel at ease with. She could imagine them sitting down to their evening meal. There might be a regular seat at the table for herself one day. It was a compelling image but she turned in her uncertainty and walked round to the other side of the cottage. As she did the stillness was disturbed by the final approach of an Airbus as it brought its passengers from the south of France. Katrina did not know where the plane had come from or who might be aboard but she scowled at the brief disturbance of her tranquillity as the plane sank noisily towards the runway at Guernsey airport.
Katrina ran her fingers across the dark granite of the garden wall, it still held the last brittle heat of the afternoon sun as she rested against it enjoying the peace. Then she opened the gate that led down to the cliffs, to the treacherous narrow path that slithered to the secret little cove. Katrina breathed in the cool air, tasted the tang of salt and the delicate scent of the wild herbs from the cliffs. The view from the garden spanned the horiz
on where a line of low cloud softened the boundary between sea and sky. The first stars were starting to show as the clear sky began its turn towards darkness. Across to the west the sun was sinking behind the distant clouds sending them to a thousand shades of violet. As is often the case on a calm autumn day a shimmer of gossamer mist hung low on the still water. For Katrina it was a view of tranquillity but tempered by an inexplicable sadness, an instant when the forces of nature had come together to frame this unique image. Never again in the history of the universe would this moment be exactly repeated. Katrina's breath was stolen by the thought, by the simple beauty. She felt a peace fall over her as her mind emptied of noise. The world sat before her eyes; a fragile thing to cherish and protect. She watched in silence as the sunset intensified and then from the low mist, from the shroud of invisibility something slowly resolved itself into a shape that brought a wetness to Katrina's eyes and forced her to call out across the cliffs an impassioned welcome that no one could hear. It was the Midnight Falcon returned at last from its long journey, riding the delicate breath of the wind to make a homecoming.