Tailing Loz was easy for Ivankov amongst the holidaymakers. Loz led him through the streets of Los Cristianos, down to the beach-front and along the promenade to a large, modern hotel positioned on a rocky headland across the small bay from the harbour and ferry terminal.
At some point, Loz seemed to have decided that his anti-surveillance tactics were no longer needed and openly walked up the steps leading to the pool, no more looking back, just sheer cockiness. Ivankov followed him around the Lido, which was crowded to bursting with prostrate, sun-worshipping individuals of all shapes and sizes, into the hotel. Inside it was dark, cool and air-conditioned, all smoked glass, shiny metal and creeping vines. Loz headed straight for the elevators. Ivankov peeled away to the reception desk and picked up a car-hire brochure.
This was the point where Ivankov thought he could lose Loz.
He wondered what he was doing here. Could Crane be holed up here following the robbery? Could Loz be doing some running for him, keeping him in touch with developments? Was Loz going to lead Ivankov straight to the man he had been contracted to kill? That would be very agreeable. Ivankov had a good feeling about the whole thing — if only he could keep tabs on Loz inside the hotel.
The Russian placed the brochure back on the rack, strode across the foyer and stepped into the lift after Loz, who pressed the button for the first floor. He made no offer to his fellow traveller about pressing a button for him. Manners was not his strong point. Ivankov leaned across the front of Loz and thumbed ‘Two’.
The lift rose and moments later hissed to a stop at the first floor. Loz got out and turned right, having completely blanked and ignored Ivankov on the short journey.
The contraption could not go up quickly enough for the Russian who, when it reached the second floor, contorted out through the doors as they opened, ran to the stairs and hared down them — hoping not to meet Loz on the way; but Ivankov had made an appraisal of Loz’s mental capabilities in the short time he’d been watching him, scoring him very low on the IQ scale. He did not have the capacity to out-manoeuvre the Russian, nor anyone else for that matter, Ivankov believed.
At the first-floor landing, double swing doors made entirely of smoked, patterned glass, opened out on to the corridor. Ivankov paused. He could hear the murmur of voices further down the stairs, but they were not important to him. He pushed one of the doors slightly open and scrutinised the corridor. Loz was further down, banging impatiently at one of the room doors. The Russian stepped back out of sight, able to hear the banging through the doors. It continued for a while, then there was silence. Ivankov gently opened to door again and looked down the corridor. Loz was now sitting outside the room. The Russian pushed the swing door open a little further and worked out the room number — 117. The door creaked on it hinges, so he moved back on to the landing as Loz raised his head at the noise.
The Russian turned casually at the sound of people coming up the steps behind him. Two people. A woman in front of a man.
The man raised his head and looked past the woman, locking eyes with the Russian.
Both men recognised one another in that instant.
Henry mouthed the word ‘Fuck!’ as recognition of the Russian hit him like a thunderbolt. His mind tumbled and twisted. The Russian killer, Ivankov, here in the hotel! The meeting Henry had had with Alexandr Drozdov. The race against time to capture Crane before the Russians got to him first… and now Ivankov here, the Moscow Mafia’s most notorious and successful assassin, in the hotel, showing that the Russians were well on Crane’s tail.
Danny, a couple of steps in front of Henry — who had been concentrating on her bum — was on the landing with the Russian. She was unaware of who was standing in front of her, thinking the man was just a hotel guest, nothing more. He had a vaguely familiar look about him, but she did not make any connection with the photograph she’d seen until it was too late… by which time the Russian, who did not know who she was, other than a handy bargaining tool, had grabbed her.
He moved with incredible speed; confident, self-assured, having already planned his next moves in his mind.
He yanked Danny roughly towards him, spun her round and pinned her tight against him with his left forearm across her throat, making her gurgle desperately for breath. She did not even get the chance to scream. In the same movement, he drew his silenced pistol from the waistband of his trousers and jammed the barrel against Danny’s lower spine. He reversed through the swing doors, off-balancing Danny, and dragged her on her heels, almost at a run, down the corridor to where Loz was sitting.
A dumbstruck Henry followed. He was completely disorientated by this turn of events and did not know what to do, other than to wait, see, react or pro-act if the opportunity arose.
Loz scrambled to his feet, his face screwed up in puzzlement. By the time his slow mind had made sense of it, the Russian, with hostage, was right up to him and Loz was staring down the barrel of Ivankov’s gun. His hands shot up straight away.
‘ Who does the room belong to?’ the Russian demanded of him.
Loz’s eyes flickered to Henry who was standing a few paces down the corridor. ‘Him.’
Henry’s eyes wavered from the petrified Danny, to her abductor, to Loz and back again. He gave Danny the best look of reassurance he could muster, sickeningly aware that it was probably not very reassuring at all. He wasn’t certain how to handle this. Henry was a trained hostage negotiator, but this situation did not fit neatly into anything he had learned. Most hostage-takers were amateurs driven by greed, emotion, sickness or commitment to a cause; they were not usually professional killers and the negotiator wasn’t usually part of the scenario.
‘ Stay calm,’ he said to Danny, then to Ivankov, ‘What’s this about?’ Henry had decided that time spent in the corridor was a bonus. It meant other people might see what was going on and raise the alarm. Once inside the hotel room, out of sight, the Russian would be in complete control. ‘Let’s talk.’
Ivankov was not about to fall for any delaying tactics. He sniggered and said, ‘Open the door and go into the room.’ He pushed his gun hard against Danny’s cheek. ‘Or I’ll kill her here and now, and then the both of you — as you know I’m capable of doing.
Henry licked his dry lips and slowly went for the room key in his trouser pocket.
‘ Well, I’ll be going then,’ Loz said brightly, as if to walk away. ‘You obviously don’t need me. This is something between yourselves.’ He smiled and bowed humbly.
Ivankov’s gun swung towards him again. Loz cowered back against the wall. ‘I think not.’ He turned back to Henry, tightened his grip across Danny’s throat and reiterated, ‘Open up.’ He smiled and Henry thought, This man is not concerned that he’s outnumbered here. He’s actually enjoying this. It’s a test of his skills — and not much of a test at that. Additionally, Henry thought desolately, None of us three will walk away from this encounter alive.
Ivankov drew Danny back a couple of feet as Henry went to the door, unlocked it. He pushed it open and stood back, letting the Russian see into the room. Ivankov waggled his gun at Loz. ‘You first — then you.’ He indicated Henry. ‘Please don’t do anything silly or suddenly, or I’ll kill you all very quickly… it’s not a problem to me.’
Ashen-faced and fearful, Loz trudged into the room, followed by a dry-throated Henry whose fingertips were starting to dither with anxiety; then Ivankov and Danny, who was beginning to go faint as the blood supply to her brain kept being cut off and then opened as the pressure from Ivankov’s forearm varied.