Page 47 of Savage Warrior

“Ten grand,” I say. “Let me see the what you have.”

Michelangelo shoves a thick envelope at me. “You never sent a photo.”

“Right. Well?” I draw the cash back towards me.

“I’ll do that now,” he splutters, reaching for his money.

I keep hold of the cash. “We’ll wait here.”

I use my phone to take a quick snap of Arina. “Will that do?”

Michelangelo inspects the image. “Aye. I can do something wi’ that.”

I WhatsApp the picture to his phone and sit back to enjoy my half of Tennent’s lager while we wait. “Run along, then.”

He’s quick, I’ll give him that. And bloody good. The passport he hands over less than an hour later is perfect as far as I can tell. And I inspect it from every angle, just to be sure.

“Nice work,” I concede. I hand him the cash. “I’ll recommend you to my friends.”

He nods at the pair of us, pockets the fee, and scuttles out.

We leave a few minutes later, to be greeted by fine, swirling snow. It’s already covering the fall of a couple of days ago, and judging by the colour of the sky, there’s plenty more to come still. Even if I had wanted to return to our cosy little cabin today, any such plans are out the window. We’d be lucky to get to the end of the road in this blizzard.

“What are we going to do?” Arina whispers. “We can’t travel in this. Can we?”

“Nope. Wait here.”

I duck back into the pub to seek out the landlord and ask him where the closest hotel is.

“Yer standin’ in it, mate,” he replies. “I rent out rooms upstairs. Will it be two singles, then?”

“A double,” I correct him. I’m keeping Arina in sight, for her protection as much as my security. She may not be best pleased at the enforced intimacy, not after yesterday, but she’ll have to get over herself.

“That’ll be half now and half when ye check out. A hundred quid, sir, for two o’ ye. Breakfast’s extra.”

Two hundred pounds for one night in this flee-bitten hole is exorbitant. I consider telling him to stuff it but hold my tongue. This guy knows when he has a captive audience, and I have bigger things to worry about than one money-grabbing little skinflint. I extract the notes from my wallet and toss them on the bar.”

The landlord beams at me. “Check out by ten o’clock, sir. Will ye be wantin’ a newspaper i’ the mornin’?

“No,” I growl. I go back outside to fetch Arina.

The room isn’t too bad, as it turns out. A bit on the small side, nevertheless, it has a good view of the street outside where my Land Rover is parked. By the time we’re settled, the snow is halfway up the tyres.

“I’m glad we’re not out in this.” Arina leans on the windowsill to observe the elements outside. “Will we be stranded here for a while, do you think?”

I hope not. That bogus roadblock is too close for my liking. And even though I checked us in under false names, there can’t be that many strangers seeking accommodation in the area right now. The sooner we’re well away from here, the better.

I dump my holdall on the bed and check that my gun is loaded and to hand. Meanwhile, Arina inspects the rest of the facilities. The sound of running water tells me she’s found the bathroom to be satisfactory. I take the time to update Jack on our progress, or lack of it.

“The weather’s a bitch,” I inform him. “We got as far as Inverness and picked up the passport, but we had to stop at a hotel because it’s snowing again. I’m guessing it’ll be three feet deep by the morning.”

“If you can’t move, neither can they,” he points out.

“Hopefully not. But they have been busy.” I tell him about the roadblock. “I have some names for you. Arina recognised some of the faces in the pictures you sent. Piatro Velkov for one. He was dressed in a police uniform, interrogating anyone on the road. Arina says he was in the van that brought the women up from the south coast, and he may have shot the police officer at the motorway services.”

“Velkov? The Sokolovs, then. Piatro is one of Olaf Sokolov’s lieutenants. According to the information Casey dug up, he’s a cross between an enforcer and an executioner, with a bit of butcher thrown in.”

“Nice. She clocked two others as well, faces she remembers from when she was abducted in Lida.” I scroll back through the mugshots to pick them out. “Michael and Barys Manotov.”

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