Chapter 8

Written by: Griffin

The yellow Chevrolet left the curb with a lurch and took them to Silvertown and a massive concrete warehouse in a back street with oily patches. Rusting girders were visible through windowless gaps in the discoloured walls.

Inside, they were greeted by a man with short-cropped hair wearing jeans and a dark-blue jacket. 

“Please, for you,” he said to Jenna, smiling and indicating a plastic bag with a change of clothes, a small suitcase and an overnight bag.

“Jenna, you can change behind that pillar,” said Nick.

Then they were speeding along the highway to Heathrow.

“Uncle Nick, where did you learn to pick locks, and couldn’t you have chosen a more discreet car to abduct me from police custody?”

She was feeling exhilarated with the adventure. But the harsh reality was starting to intrude on her thoughts.

“I like to drive in style.”

“I am going to be thrown into goal for escaping, and after that they will get me for murder.”

“Don’t worry.”

“And what about Mum? How can I leave her?”

“She’ll be alright. You’ll see her soon.”

She expected to hear a siren at any moment. She remembered the same journey to Paris with her mother three years before, where Louise had shown her the bars of her youth.

“Why is there no police siren?”

“Ah yes, well, I have connections.”

Jenna remained silent. Somehow, to be removed from the scene of the crime was appealing to her. She was leaving that dilemma behind: to save one person’s life by taking another.

They were in the queue for Aeroflot.

“I don’t have my passport.”

“Yes you do.”

Nick handed her a Russian passport, saying in her ear, “Dual nationality. You were born in Vladivostok and came here with your parents when you were two years old.”

“Now I’m for it.”

“Shh. Just present it. You’ll be fine.”

“Where are we going then?”

“Saint Petersburg.”

“What about my course?”

“They have an architecture course.”

“Nick, you are crazy. I only have two years of Russian at Uni.  Wait a minute, wasn’t it you who put the idea into my head originally?”

Already she was looking forward to meeting new friends.

“SU 2579. Forty-seven minutes.” They were sitting over coffee at a white table of basic construction with a view of planes and runways.

“You and mum are having it off, aren’t you?”

 A little boy ran past waving a brown teddy bear.

There was a pause. “Jenna, I’ve loved your mother for a long time.”

Jenna put the photo on the table. “You are my father, aren’t you?”

Their eyes met.

“So you made me kill Adrian.”

An Alitalia hostess gave them a look as she went past.

“I had the knife ready for Louise, of course. She knew exactly how to goad him. She got distracted when you came in.”

“What if she missed with the knife?”

“We’ve been practicing on a sack.  My commando training.”

“Nick, what was your business with Adrian?”

 

Greg Rochlin (Aus)