‘This way.’ He guided her to the Peugeot. ‘I saw you play the Emperor at the Proms at the Albert Hall last year. You were amazing.’
He put her into the passenger seat, went round to the other side and got behind the wheel.
‘Do you play yourself?’ she asked, as if by instinct.
‘Oh, yes.’ He turned the ignition key. ‘But not like you.”
Behind them, the rear doors opened on each side and the two Russians got in, Turkin behind Tanya. ‘Don’t argue, there’s a silenced pistol against your spine and hers. These seats aren’t exactly body armour. We can kill you both without a sound and walk away.’
Tanya went rigid. Alex Martin said calmly, ‘You know these men?’
‘GRU. Military Intelligence.’
‘I see. What happens now?’ he asked Turkin.
‘She goes back if we can take her. If not, she dies. The only important thing is that she doesn’t talk to the wrong people. Any nonsense from you and she’ll be the first to go. We know our duty.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘Because we are strong and you are weak, pretty boy,’ Turkin told him. That’s why we’ll win in the end. Walk right up to Buckingham Palace.’
‘Wrong time of the year, old son,’ Alex said. ‘The Queen’s at Sandringham.’
Turkin scowled. ‘Very amusing. Now get this thing moving round to the Marina.’
They walked along the pontoon towarelsL’Alouette, Martin with a hand on the girl’s elbow, the two Russians walking behind. Martin helped Tanya over the rail. She was trembling, he could feel it.
Turkin opened the companionway door. ‘Down below, both of you.’ He followed close behind, his gun in his hand now. ‘Stop!’ he said to Martin when they reached the saloon. ‘Lean on the table, legs spread. You sit down,’ he told Tanya.
Shepilov stood on one side, gun in hand. Tanya was close to tears. Alex said gently, ‘Keep smiling. Always pays.’
‘You English really take the biscuit,’ Turkin said as he searched him expertly. ‘You’re nothing any more. Yesterday’s news. Just wait till the Argentinians blow you out of the water down there in the South Atlantic.’ He lifted Martin’s jacket
at the rear and found the Airweight. ‘Would you look at that?’ he said to Shepilov. ‘Amateur. I noticed some cord in the galley. Get it.’
Shepilov was soon back. ‘And once at sea, it’s the deep six?’ Martin enquired.
‘Something like that.’ Turkin turned to Shepilov. ‘Tie him up. We’d better get out of here fast. I’ll get the engine started.’
He went up the companionway. Tanya had stopped trembling, her face pale, rage in her eyes and desperation. Martin shook his head a fraction and Shepilov kneed him painfully in the rear. ‘Up you come, hands behind you.’ Martin could feel the muzzle of the silencer against his back. The Russian said to Tanya, ‘Tie his wrists.’
Martin said, ‘Don’t they ever teach you chaps anything? You never stand that close to anyone.’
He swung, pivoting to the left, away from the barrel of the gun. It coughed once, drilling a hole in the bulkhead. His right hand caught the Russian’s wrist, twisting it up and round, taut as a steel bar. Shepilov grunted and dropped the weapon and Martin’s clenched left fist descended in a hammer blow, snapping the arm.
Shepilov cried out, dropping to one knee. Martin bent down and picked up the gun and miraculously, the Russian’s other hand swung up, the blade of the spring knife flashing. Martin blocked it, aware of the sudden pain as the blade sliced through his sleeve, drawing blood. He punched Shepilov on the jaw, knuckles extended and kicked the knife under the seat.
Tanya was on her feet, but already there were hurried steps on deck. ‘Ivan?’ Turkin called.
Martin put a finger to his lips to the girl, brushed past her and went into the galley. A small ladder led to the forward hatch. He opened it and went out on deck as he heard Turkin start down.
It had begun to rain, a fine mist drifting in from the sea as he stepped lightly across the deck to the entrance of the companionway. Turkin had reached the bottom and stood there, gun in his right hand as he peered cautiously into the