‘What’s happening?Is she going to make it?’
Devastated, Emilia turned to face her.No words were required, her stricken expression giving the clearest of answers.There was no pulse.
Chapter 106
Visser threw back his head and roared with laughter.He had done it.He had escaped.
His body was suddenly convulsed with mirth, all the tension and agony of the past few hours pouring from him, as he revelled in his triumph.Even though he was hidden away in the bowels of the ship, concealed behind endless boxes of cleaning equipment in a tiny, cramped store cupboard, with no window or access to air, there was no question that theyweremoving.A celebratory blast of the foghorn had signalled their departure, yet still Visser waited impatiently for signs of momentum, of speed, of action.It was subtle at first, the ship taking a while to reach its cruising speed as it exited cautiously from the docks, but now there was no doubt about it.They were on their way to Denmark.
It was a profound relief, after the worst couple of days of his life.His meeting with Emilia Garanita had been horrendous, not simply because of the unconscionable insults she rained down on him, but more because of his overriding feeling that he was missing something, that unbeknownst to him she had played some trick on him, a feeling that had only grown when he later discovered that she was tailing him.How else could she have found him unless she was tracking him in some way?Paranoid,anxious, he had taken the precaution of dumping his clothes in favour of sailor’s overalls, remembering also to toss his knife into the murky waters of the harbour as he slipped onto the ship.It had served its purpose and there was no point holding on to anything incriminating now.
Emilia’s close attention had been bad enough, but things had really gone south when that Turkish whore escaped from the hospital.The desperate act had provoked an avalanche of unfortunate consequences, not least the severing of his relationship with Leyla and the collapse of their profitable joint venture.Thereafter, pretty much everything had gone wrong.He’d lost his truck, the gold, his beloved Feyernoord scarf and been chased halfway round Southampton docks.He’d nearly been caught, only the tiny squeak of gravel on concrete alerting him to the approaching police officer at the last second.Fortunately, his mind had been clear, and his hand true, allowing him to step over the fallen officer and be on his way to the departing ship, before anyone could apprehend him.For a moment, his mind flitted back to the sprawled woman, her face ashen, her chest oozing blood, wondering what had happened to her.But then he realized he neither knew nor cared, so pushed the image from his mind.
She was the price of his freedom and that was all there was to it.He had no idea what he would do once he got to Copenhagen, how he might slip off the vessel unseen, how he would make his way back to his native Rotterdam undetected.He had a yearning now to be back amongst his own people, in the city’s boisterous bars, enjoying a glass of bockbier and a smoke.That was where he belonged, where he was safe, it was there that he needed to be right now.Leaning back against the humming wall of the storeroom, Visser toyed with his last remaining cigar, imagining the joy it would bring him as heset foot on dry land once more, lighting it up in triumph.It would be a fitting celebration following his lucky escape and he intended to enjoy it to the full.
Unlike the fallen officer on the dockside, he would live to fight another day.
Epilogue
Chapter 107
Would they be scared?Would they cry out in terror?Or would they simply turn away in disgust?With the help of the wonderful nurses in the burns unit, Viyan had tried her best to make herself presentable, but she still feared how her children would react to seeing their mother like this, swathed in bandages, hooked up to machines, unable to lift her arms to wave hello.Salman, Defne and Aasmah were familiar with trauma and suffering, sadly, but still Viyan worried about the effect her injuries would have on them.Having seen her three days ago, looking tired, thin, but defiant, how would they react when they saw her now, lying in a hospital bed, brutalized and bandaged?
Swallowing down her fears, Viyan chided herself for her foolishness.Yes, she had suffered grievously, only cheating death at the last minute.Yes, she was in agony, with severe burns to forty per cent of her body.But the fact was that she was lucky to be here at all.Unlike poor Selima, she hadescapedthe diabolical incinerator, dragged from the darkness into the light.What’s more, her face was largely unharmed, the ashen remains of those who had gone before her shielding Viyan’s delicate features from the worst ravages of the heat.This was not only a huge relief in terms of her sense of self, her identity, it would also markedly improve the speed of her recovery andrehabilitation, as she could eat normally and communicate freely.Given the extremity and desperation of her situation during her final hours on Dearham Farm, this was a major saving grace, a huge positive to pull from her terrible ordeal.And never had words been more apt – she had been saved by Helen Grace.It was thanks to her and her alone that she could embrace her future, heal her wounds and be reunited with her family again.
Unable to move her head, Viyan blinked at Peter, the kindly Kenyan nurse, who pressed ‘Connect’ on the phone that Helen had given her.Immediately, Viyan’s heart started to pound in her chest.She knew she should be feeling an enormous sense of relief, of triumph even, but instead she felt anxious and tense.Her nemesis was dead and the farm shut down, her fellow captives freed from their living nightmare, yet the shadow of Viyan’s experiences there lingered, leaving her unsettled, mistrustful and fearful.Though she was now free, she was finding it hard to embrace her good fortune, even though preparations were in hand to transfer her to a specialist hospital in Turkey.Helen had said she would pay for all her expenses and Viyan believed her, but still she expected the twist in the tail.Could it really betruethat her nightmare was over?
In front of her, the screen now sprang into life, revealing a joyful, chaotic scene.Viyan’s mother could be glimpsed in the background, holding the phone up in her wobbling hand, but in front of her the smiling trio of Aasmah, Defne and Salman jostled for position.Instinctively, Viyan returned the compliment, breaking into a heartfelt smile, only to wince as pain arrowed down the side of her face into her neck.It was pure agony, but she didn’t relent, determined that her children should see that she was happy, safe and well.Her subterfuge was not entirely successful, however, the trio pausing as they took in her sterile surroundings, her bandages, her pale face.Salman in particular looked troubled, his bottom lip beginning to quiver, but sensing the danger, Aasmah took over, placing an arm around her little brother, reassuring him that Mama was fine and would be coming home soon.For a moment, Salman seemed to hesitate, uncertain whether to believe his sister, but a gentle prod from Defne brought him to his senses.Snapping into action, he bent down out of sight, reappearing clutching a posy of wild flowers, offering the explosion of colour up to the camera, as if he could pass them through the lens to his mother.
Now tears flowed, running down Viyan’s features and sliding off her chin.She cried freely, generously, joyfully.Though separated for now, her family would soon be together again, united, happy, optimistic for the future.The forces of darkness had tried to destroy Viyan, life had tried to break her, but both had failed.She had withstood the onslaught, weathered the storm, taken her punishment.
She hadsurvived.
Chapter 108
Death.Pain.Suffering.Emilia had been surrounded by these dark forces for as long as she could remember, but never had she felt their presence so keenly as she did today.
For the first time in her life, Emilia genuinely felt that she might not be able to cope.She had endured all manner of injuries and insults over the years, emerging victorious and defiant each time, but the avalanche of misfortune that had cascaded over her in the past three days beggared belief.First had come Ernesto’s unexpected death, then the botched operation at the dockside culminating in Visser’s shocking escape.And finally, worst of all, there’d been the brutal stabbing of Charlie Brooks, the fallen officer now fighting for her life in ICU.Though Emilia had never been close to her, this last outrage cut deepest.This brave and resourceful officer had simply been doing her duty, yet Visser had seen fit to thrust a knife into her chest in his desperation to evade capture.Emilia’s heart broke for Charlie, and she raged against Visser, her eyes filling with angry tears as memories of that awful, blood-soaked scene on the quayside pushed their way back into her thoughts.
Wiping her eyes, Emilia stalked along the hospital corridor, her trainers squeaking noisily.She’d wanted to visit before now, but she’d barely had time to catch her breath since the disasterat the docks.First, she’d had to endure lengthy questioning at Southampton Central, as Charlie’s colleagues tried to make sense of what had happened.Though exhausted and upset, Emilia had not complained during the many hours of discussion and repetition, determined to do her duty.For their part, Rebecca Holmes and her colleagues in CID had been unfailingly polite and responsive, Emilia detecting a marked change in their attitude towards her, their gratitude for her heroic efforts on the quayside plain to see.Following her departure from Southampton Central, Emilia had had to run the gauntlet of the press, who swarmed around her, desperate for the inside story.She’d been a journalist for many years, but only now realised what it truly felt like to be in the eye of the storm.
Thereafter, Emilia had been sucked back into family life, trying to make sense of recent events for her shocked siblings, whilst simultaneously trying to plan for her father’s funeral.There was so much to do, so much to process, not least how to say goodbye to a man she had often hated.Emilia’s head was already swimming with details of all the things she needed to organize, all the people she needed to contact, and was relieved to tear herself away from the preparations for a while in order to check on Charlie’s condition.
A noise ahead made Emilia look up and she now spotted Helen Grace walking away from the ICU, her expression set, her face solemn.Immediately, Emilia felt another rush of emotion, fear, horror, grief wrestling for supremacy.Was she too late?Had Charlie lost the fight?Helen continued to march towards her, clocking the journalist but barely reacting, as if her mind was elsewhere.Nevertheless, her former sparring partner slowed as the two women approached each other, Helen’s sad nod speaking volumes.Emilia was almost too afraid to ask, but found herself muttering:
‘How is she?’
Helen’s expression was grave and her words, when they came, were measured.
‘She … she’s fighting.’
She was trying to be positive, but to Emilia it sounded like it was a fight Helen expected Charlie to lose.
‘The surgeon said the knife missed her heart by a millimetre, hence why she’s still alive.But she lost anawfullot of blood and is still in a coma.’
Helen’s voice shook, Emilia shocked to see her naked emotion.In all the years that they’d locked horns together, the former DI had never shown any vulnerability in front of her.But now there was no hiding it – Helen looked desperate, anguished, grief tinging her every word.
‘Honestly, Emilia, it’s not looking good, but every second she clings on is a plus.If she can hang in there, if she can stay strong, then …’
