Dusk turned to darkness, and he stumbled through the debris, but snagged his foot on something sharp that pierced his skin. He scraped away the ash-sludge, and found a knife. Neither fire nor rubble had damaged its long narrow blade, and its edge cut sharp, the hilt bound in green leather. An ideal weapon for a hunter, or an assassin.
He climbed through the Park, and the rain eased as he reached the first trees that bordered the forest. He passed under their boughs, and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Forty One
Dunyasha staggered to her feet. “Take them to the Embassy.”
Winded by Isobel’s blow, she gulped for breath, and though in pain, she didn’t think she was seriously injured. Konstantin handed her back the cloth bag with the Russian White secure in its velvet pouch. He guided her to the chair and she sat down.
“Fetch Gregor,” she instructed. “And Marsha too.”
She sat straight and eased her breathing back to normal, as the men bundled Isobel and Terrington out of the room. She had expected the meeting to be difficult, but not so violent. Still, she glowed with pride at having caught Isobel. Valuable answers about The Brotherhood and the diamond would soon be supplied. She was less sure about Terrington; he possessed a lot of useful information too, she suspected, but torture might be required to reveal it.
Konstantin appeared followed by Gregor. Behind him came a young woman carrying a child wrapped in a blanket. Dunyasha reached into her bag and extracted a leather envelope.
“Gregor, you will leave this evening with the diamond, when the tide turns.” She handed him the envelope. “These are your papers, and this—” she clicked her fingers and the young woman stepped forward. “Is Marsha. You are man and wife returning to the continent with your young boy.”
She beckoned Marsha round. “He is called Dimitri.” She pulled back a corner of the blanket and smiled at the sleeping face. “Marsha found him in the alley by the river. The mother was dead and the little boy was close to starving. Marsha has a big heart and took care of him. It is luck that has brought him to us, for now you are a family, and the authorities will not bother you with tiresome questions.”
She lifted the diamond out of her bag. “Konstantin and I will make a diversion by negotiating with the British Government, and use Isobel and the servant as bait, to give you time to escape.”
She stood, and placed the diamond in Gregor’s hands. “Keep it secret, keep it safe. Do not fail the Motherland. Amongst the papers is one that will grant you access to my rooms in Moscow. They will take the diamond, and you will have completed your task.”
Konstantin draped his arm around Gregor’s shoulders. “You will be well rewarded for your services.”
Dunyasha placed a hand on her stomach; it still ached, though the pain had lessened. “This place will be closed tomorrow. Our presence here will be obliterated. The staff will crew the ship. Any questions?”
Gregor shook his head.
“Very well.” She tucked the empty bag under her arm. “The tide turns at six this evening. Go now and prepare for your journey.”
That evening, as the waters in the Thames receded, The Lady Mary raised anchor from her berth in the Lower Pool of London, and drifted downriver with the tide.
A west wind blew, though her sails remained furled, as she headed towards the estuary and the English Channel. From her mast flew the national flag of Finland. A cargo clipper bound for the north east continent with a hold full of grain and livestock.
The helmsman steered her along the river’s middle course to avoid the mud flats that shifted at each new tide, and beached the unwary.
Gregor stood at the prow, and watched the wharves slip past on either side; his hand gripped the hilt of his sword concealed under his cloak.
The crew prepared the ship for the open sea. Commands, shouted in English, relayed around the crew; though as they worked, they whispered in Russian. Anticipation and excitement mounted as the river’s banks widened, and they executed their tasks with brisk efficiency.
The wind blew stronger, and the straggling remains of the City receded. The Captain blew one long blast on his whistle, and the crew in the rigging released the ropes, and the sails tumbled down and cracked like whips as the wind filled their canvas bodies.
Gregor pulled his cloak tight, and hugged it. The bulky scabbard with its broken sword pressed against his leg, and the Russian White lay in its velvet pouch and rocked in the darkness as the ship rolled.
The Lady Mary’s speed increased, and spumes of white water splashed along her gunwales.
Gregor rubbed the wolf charm between his finger and thumb. In the wind, the smooth silver felt cool. His brother lay dead in a foreign land, one to which Gregor would never return, and he mouthed a silent prayer for forgiveness.
“I love you. I will never forget you, but please, always be with me, and help me when I need it. I shall wear the wolf charm forever, even when I am buried.”
The Lady Mary sailed close to the north shore, where the flat marshes stretched away to a far horizon, and the land blurred between earth and sky. No one lived in these barren spaces. Stunted bushes grew in dense clumps, contorted into strange shapes by the wind, which bent them sideways. Beds of reed marsh hissed and clattered as the ship sailed past, and everywhere, the shadows of the night covered the land.
And through these shadows moved a darker shadow; a swift shadow, that kept pace with the Lady Mary, and sprinted along the shore and across the broken land. It turned its head towards Gregor, and held his eyes with a longing stare.
The sky darkened, and the Lady Mary sailed into the open sea and left the land behind. The wolf slackened its pace, and Gregor wiped his eyes as the wind blew away his tears.
The wolf lifted its head and howled at the approaching night.
About the author
Jonathan lives on the south coast of England. He has published two books of short stories.
Roadkill; Four Nasty Stories. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Roadkill-ebook/dp/B006H310XA
Gifts; Four Poignant Stories. http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B006YPB2W0
People who choose to live by the sea have their own special stories to tell.
Connect with me online at Twitter. http://twitter.com/@jb121jonathan
Copyright
Copyright 2012 Jonathan Broughton
Cover Design by Rayne Hall