The Half Truth (21 page)

The trains were running to schedule as Tina arrived at Brighton station. She was in good time for her appointment. She double-checked her directions and headed down the hill towards the city centre. It was a beautiful morning; she could smell the salty sea air and feel the coastal breeze tickling her neck. Her heart tugged as she thought of the last time she was here and what had brought her here today.

She hadn’t known she would be coming here so soon after the events at St Paul’s, but two days on and John had explained he had to go up to London, something to do with the two Russians and their initial court hearings. It had only given her a few hours’ notice, but that had been all she needed to make arrangements.

The small private bank was innocuous from the outside. In fact, it looked more like an office building than a financial institution. Tina checked the plaque on the wall and pressed the small brass buzzer next to it. A tiny click alerted her to the automatic door lock being lifted. She pushed against the white, panelled door and stepped into a small reception area, where a member of staff greeted her, asking her to take a seat.

Within a few minutes, the lift doors on the other side of the reception area opened and a tall suited gentleman exited.

‘Hello, Mrs Bolotnikov,’ he said, extending a hand to her. ‘I’m Mr Thomas. Branch Manager.’

Tina shook hands. She was surprised that the branch manager himself should greet her. Sasha must have been a valued customer. It sat uncomfortably with her. ‘Highly valued’ in the banking world usually meant high net worth. In Sasha’s case, this meant laundered money. She shrugged the thought away, replacing it with that of Nikolay. She was doing this for a young boy who needed lifesaving treatment, which could only be paid for by this means. It eased her conscience. Just.

Tina followed Mr Thomas into a small interview room situated on the other side of the lift doors.

‘I do need to go through some security checks, if that’s all right with you, Mrs Bolotnikov?

‘Of course.’ She wouldn’t have expected anything else. Sasha had told her it would be very straightforward, there were no trick questions or answers. She would know all the right responses, for they were the truth. The only thing she needed to remember was the password.

She handed over her passport as photographic identification. Mr Thomas tapped away at the touch-screen computer in front of him, recording her passport number.

‘Can you confirm you mother’s maiden name, please?’

‘Morris.’

‘Mr Bolotnikov’s date of birth and full name?’

Tina answered the questions duly, each time Mr Thomas nodding and tapping at the screen.

‘Finally, can you confirm password one?’

‘Windermere.’

‘And password two?’

‘Pier. As in Brighton Pier.’

‘Thank you.’ Mr Thomas looked up from the monitor. ‘I’m pleased to say that you’ve passed all the security checks. Everything is in order. Can I take this opportunity to offer you my condolences? It is with sadness that we meet. Your late husband made provisions that you would only come here to collect the safe-deposit contents in the event of his death. I was, of course, hoping this meeting would never take place.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tina.

‘I trust you have the key with you,’ said Mr Thomas. ‘We only issued the one key.’

‘Yes, I have it right here.’ Tina took the silver key from her purse. The key to Sasha’s heart. God, had she been so naïve to believe all his lies? She hated that she now had such conflicting feelings about him. Before he came back she only ever had love and respect for him. Now her emotions swung back and forth like a pendulum.

Tina followed Mr Thomas through a series of corridors, CCTV tracking their every step. Finally, they reached the vaulted strong room. A security guard was there to meet them. Tina was escorted into a room about the size of an average bedroom. Three walls were lined with drawers of varying sizes; smaller letter-sized drawers to her left, gradually increasing in size until the ones on her right were the size of a small suitcase. A table and two chairs occupied the middle of the room.

Mr Thomas pointed out drawer number eighty-six. ‘That’s yours there, Mrs Bolotnikov. We will leave you in private now. If you need anything, please ring the bell here.’ He pointed to a doorbell on the wall next to the door. ‘Likewise, when you’ve finished, ring it and we will let you out.’

Tina waited for the two gentlemen to leave and closed the door behind them. She ignored the claustrophobic sensation of being shut into a small space with her only way out dependent on someone else opening the door.

She put her bag on the table and approached box eighty-six. Turning the key, the door opened with ease. Tina’s hands shook as she reach in and pulled out a cardboard shoebox. Men’s shoes. Size 10. Sasha’s size. A picture of a pair of desert boots was printed on the end of the box. She remembered the boots well. He had worn them a lot.

The box felt heavier than she had expected. Holding it with two hands, she gave it a small shake, but there was no sound or feeling of movement.

Tina placed the box on the table. The lid had been taped down and, using the edge of the key, she sliced around the lip of the box. She wiggled the lid free. She knew there was going to be cash in the box, Sasha had told her so.

Pink and purple bundles of notes filled the box, an elastic band keeping each one neatly in place. She ran her fingers across the money, pushing thoughts of its origin from her mind. She focused on the picture she had seen of Nikolay. A small innocent boy. If this money could be used to save his life then neither Sasha nor the police officer would have died pointlessly. She had to make something good come out of something bad.

Tina began taking the bundles of notes from the box, transferring them in to the rucksack she had brought with her. She didn’t count the money, but estimated each bundle contained around five thousand pounds. She would wait until she got home to count it properly and check it matched Sasha’s figure. There was no CCTV in the room, for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to imagine what she must look like as she stuffed bundle after bundle into her bag.

As she cleared the last layer of money from the shoebox, she noticed a postcard sitting in the bottom. A scene of a small sailboat bobbing on a lake surrounded by countryside. She didn’t need to read the back to know where the picture had been taken.

Lake Windermere. She and Sasha had honeymooned in the Lake District. They had had their first lunch as Mr and Mrs Bolotnikov at a restaurant overlooking the lake. Her hand shook as she reached in to pick it up. Sasha had left this for her. She turned it over. The black biro words had been penned by Sasha.

And the sun’s rays reflected back from the water like gems of tears.

She read it again. It made no sense. Maybe something had got lost in translation? She went to put the card into the rucksack, but changed her mind and placed it in her handbag instead. She would look at it when she had more time.

Five minutes later she pressed the internal buzzer to signal she was ready to leave. All she had to do now was to deposit the cash into the Swiss bank account of the clinic, where, Sasha assured her, they would ask no questions whatsoever. He had specifically told her not to do a bank-to-bank transfer. He didn’t want a paper trail. Once the money hit the account, the clinic would contact Rozalina direct and organise everything from their end. She was relieved she wouldn’t have to have any direct dealings with Rozalina herself. Tina wasn’t sure either wife would be able to cope with that, especially now Sasha had died.

Stepping out onto the pavement, Tina breathed a sigh of relief. She adjusted the strap of the rucksack to a more comfortable position on her shoulders. The sun had managed to shake off the clouds and the rays momentarily blinded her. She fished in her handbag for her sunglasses.

As she put them on a hand caught hold of her arm. Fingers gripped around her elbow.

‘Hello, Tina.’

Tina felt sick to the pit of her stomach. She thought she had been so careful. She was sure she hadn’t been followed and, yet, here he was, right by her side. She attempted to shrug John’s hand from her arm, but he wasn’t letting go.

‘I could just scream and cause a scene,’ she said, not breaking her stride.

‘Then I would just have to arrest you officially,’ said John, keeping step with her. ‘You could make it a whole lot easier by simply getting into the car.’

‘No thanks. I’d rather walk.’

‘You won’t mind if I walk with you, then.’

‘As a matter of fact, I would mind. A lot.’ Tina continued striding down Queen’s Street. The seafront was directly ahead and she knew anytime now the pier would come into sight. An overwhelming feeling of despair flooded her, drowning her hopes. Tears filled her eyes. She had got so close. She was going to fail. She couldn’t quite give up yet. She stopped walking and turned to face him. ‘Please, John. Don’t do this.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He looked genuinely upset. ‘If there was any other way …’

‘There is. You can let me go. Pretend you missed me.’

John shook his head. ‘I can’t do that.’ His voice was tender yet firm. He lifted his hand to her face and wiped away an errant tear from her cheek.

She tried once more. ‘Please? I’m begging you. Look the other way, just for a few seconds.’

‘Tina. Don’t do this.’

‘No! You don’t do this.’ She reined in a shout, aware they were drawing attention to themselves. She went to move, to test his resolve. He gripped her with both hands.

‘It’s blood money, Tina. It has Neil’s blood on it and now it has Sasha’s blood on it. I can’t let it go. Or you.’

For a moment she wondered what those last words meant. She didn’t have time to consider them fully. ‘The money, it’s not for me or for the Porboski gang. It’s for Sasha’s son. He needs medical treatment. Urgently.’

‘I know. I do know that,’ said John. ‘It doesn’t make any difference.’

‘You’re a cold-hearted bastard, John Nightingale.’ Tina wanted to slap him. How could he be so indifferent? ‘Your job really does come before everything else, doesn’t it? Even the life of a child.’ John said nothing. His silence enraged her all the more. She grappled the rucksack from her back and shoved it into his chest. ‘Here. Have it. You can now add Nikolay’s blood to the list.’

It had been a week now since John had followed Tina to Brighton. He had guessed she had a plan to collect the money. She had a motive. She was determined. It was so easy to read her.

He wished now, more than ever before, that his job hadn’t once again intruded into her personal life. He had already lost his wife to the job. Divorce in his line of work was almost a foregone conclusion. Now it seemed it was killing any chance he had with Tina.

‘You still pissed off?’ Martin’s voice came across the desk.

‘Mind your own business,’ he said. John picked up a file and pretended to study it, although none of the words were actually registering.

‘Why don’t you simply go and see her?’ said Martin. ‘She might have calmed down by now.’

‘As I said, mind you own.’

‘Have it your own way,’ said Martin, hooking his feet up onto the desk as he sank back into his chair. ‘I suppose that means you would rather I went and saw the lovely Mrs B to find out what she wanted to do with the body?’

John shot his partner a look. ‘What’s that?’

Martin sat up again, a big grin spread across his face. ‘Aha, that got your attention, didn’t it?’ He picked up a piece of paper and passed it over the desk to John. ‘Coroner’s report all done. The body can be released for burial, cremation or repatriation. That is if she wants to ship it off to Russia. If she does, she needs to get the undertakers to embalm it and issue a certificate.’

‘Yeah, all right, spare me the detail. I know the score.’ John felt irritated. Martin had certainly hit a nerve. ‘I’ll go and see her myself.’

‘Thought you might,’ said Martin, who made now attempt to hide the smug look on his face.

Adam came out from Brogan’s office and called over to John.

‘Boss wants to see you two.’

John exchanged a look with Martin, who shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me.’

‘Better go and see what’s up, then,’ said John leading the way.

Brogan was sitting at his desk, paperwork spread in front of him. John noticed a picture of Pavel Bolotnikov on a report sheet.

‘You wanted to see us, Sir.’

‘Yes, come in. Sit down.’ Brogan waited while the two officers seated themselves on the opposite side of the desk. ‘Need to close this Porboski case as soon as. We haven’t got much time. If we’re going to do anything, we need to do it now.’

‘Sir?’ said John. He felt his blood pump a little faster around his body. This was what he had been waiting for. He had put his proposal to his superior the day before. Now it looked like it was going to be given the go-ahead.

‘How’s your Russian?’ said Brogan.

John resisted the urge to pump his fist in the air and shout ‘Yes!’ Instead he replied with the calm voice of the professional he was. ‘Good enough,’

‘Mummy! There’s someone at the door.’

Tina heard Dimitri call up the stairs to her. She had just got in from work and was changing out of her uniform. ‘Okay. I’m coming down.’ She pulled on her jeans and hurried out onto the landing, fastening them as she went.

‘Mummy, it’s John!’ The delight in her son’s voice was apparent. ‘I saw him out of the window.’ She heard the chain on the door being slid out of position and jangle as it swung free.

‘Don’t open the door!’ she called down the stairs. John was here. Her heart bobbed like a yoyo to her stomach, then to her throat and back into place. She hadn’t heard from him all week and, although she was still angry and hurt, she couldn’t deny that she had missed him too.

She hurried down the stairs, reaching the half landing as she heard the door open and Dimitri shouting in delight at their visitor.

‘Hey there, little man,’ said John. ‘How are you?’

Tina reached the bottom of the stairs and held onto the door. Seeing John standing on the doorstep, ruffling her son’s head, who had gripped John’s waist in a hug, was almost too much to bear.

‘Hello, John,’ she said. Suddenly she felt shy and unsure. His face was giving nothing away. In fact, he was looking very business-like. ‘Is this an official visit?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’d better come in.’ Tina prized Dimitri away. ‘Come on, let John in.’

‘Can we play football in the garden?’ said Dimitri. ‘Have you caught any bad men?’

John gave a laugh. ‘I’m a bit tired today, I don’t think I’ll be able to play football, I’ve been catching too many bad men and I’m all worn out.’

‘Hmm.’ Dimitri folded his arm, sticking out his bottom lip.

‘Leave John alone for a moment,’ said Tina. ‘He’s just finished work and needs to talk to Mummy. Go back and watch the TV for a little while.’

‘I’ll see you before I go,’ said John. ‘Be a good lad for your mum.’

Reluctantly Dimitri scuffed his way back to the living room.

Tina took John into the kitchen, using the few seconds to try and get a grip on her feelings. John had said he was here on official business, not pleasure. He obviously didn’t care about her as much as she thought he had. She had hoped to hear from him sooner to say he had changed his mind about the money or that he wasn’t handing all of it in. She had so wanted him to do something to quash the opinion he had forced her to make about him last week. What she wouldn’t give for him not to be the cold-hearted bastard who had taken away the only hope of a sick child.

‘How have you been?’ said John.

‘It doesn’t really matter does it? What was it you wanted to speak to me about?’ She wasn’t going to let him think that everything was okay between them. That would be far too convenient for him.

‘It matters to me.’

She swallowed hard, straightening up. She did wonder who she was trying to kid more with her act of indifference. ‘Well, it shouldn’t. Can we get to the point?’

‘The coroner’s report has been completed, which means, as Sasha’s next of kin, you get to decide what to do with the body.’

‘I have actually thought about this.’ Tina paused to maintain her composure. ‘Sasha wasn’t my husband. He hadn’t been for a long time. My husband died five years ago. He needs to go back to Russia so his family, his mother, his wife can all grieve for him. They can bury him and have a grave to go to. It’s how it should be.’

She heard the wobble in her voice. It had been a hard decision, but she knew it was the right one.

‘Would you like us to arrange that for you? Only, without a passport it’s not so straightforward. We can liaise with the Russian embassy and make all the necessary arrangements.’

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that. As I’m sure the Bolotnikovs will.’ Tina drew a deep breath. ‘Does Rozalina know about me?’

‘She will need to be informed.’

‘I thought about asking you not to tell her, but then I decided she should know. Not because I want to even the score and upset her or get some sort of revenge kick from it, but because her son, Nikolay, has a half-brother. They should know about each other.’

John nodded. ‘I understand. For what it’s worth, I agree with you.’ John took a small brown envelope from his pocket. ‘I thought you might like to keep this. To show Dimitri one day.’

Tina took the envelope and, looking inside, slipped out a small photograph. It was of Nikolay. It was the one Sasha had kept in his wallet.

‘Thank you. I can’t bear the thought that this is the only picture Dimitri will have.’

‘There’s every chance there will be more.’

‘How is there?’ The spark of anger ignited itself once more. ‘You saw to that.’

‘I’m trying to convince my bosses to honour the deal, even though Sasha’s dead.’

‘What?’

‘I’m putting as much pressure as I can on my boss to arrange for Sasha’s son to be treated in Switzerland.’

‘You are?’ She could barely believe it. She watched John nod. ‘When will you know?’

‘I’m not sure. In the next week or two, I hope.’

Tears blurred her vision and she blinked hard to stop them falling. ‘Thank you.’

‘See, I’m not such a cold-hearted bastard,’ said John.

She had misjudged him and, for once, she was glad she had got it wrong. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve been called worse.’ John shifted on his feet.

‘Would you like a cup of coffee?’ Tina was relieved. The olive branch had been accepted.

‘Can I ask you something?’ said John as he sat down at the table.

‘Depends what it is,’ said Tina. The disquiet that had receded over the past week was back, small ripples of anxiety reaching out to her, lapping at her heels.

‘Why did Sasha put the money in the safe deposit? He went to a lot of trouble, laying the way. He gave you that key a long time before he had to disappear. He must have been planning something.’

‘I don’t know all the details, he briefly told me at St Paul’s that day. The money in the safe deposit, he had been gradually laundering it through the business. It wasn’t his money. It was the Porboski money and it was coming to him via Pavel. Sasha didn’t know this at first and by the time he did, it was too late. He was already implicated. Pavel never told him the truth.’

‘And he couldn’t exactly report his brother, I suppose,’ said John.

‘No, he couldn’t. If he did, then Pavel would be in danger as Sasha would himself. Pavel made it clear to him that the danger would extend to me as well.’

‘Nice brother.’

‘You could say that,’ said Tina. ‘Sasha was a man who got dragged into all of this by his brother. It wasn’t until he had been in Russia a few days that Pavel told him Neil had died. Up until then Sasha always thought there was a way back.’ Tina could feel the tears building up again. She looked at John. He had gone quite pale.

He stood up and made for the back door. ‘Need some fresh air,’ he muttered as he grappled with the door handle.