Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

C reep snatched Nina’s backpack.

‘Give it back,’ Nina growled.

‘No can do.’ He laid his arm around her shoulders, as if they were old pals, and dragged her to where Cabbie stood, grinning at them, a toothpick now stuck between his teeth.

‘I don’t know you.’ Nina tried pulling away. Creep stank of musk, the sort you smelled on a man after he’d run five miles under the hot sun.

He didn’t let her go. Instead, Cabbie walked up to them and plucked out the tickets she’d inserted into her passport. Before he made a grab for that too, Nina slid it into her pocket. Without a passport, it would be difficult for her escape. Not that being caught by two criminals wasn’t a pickle in itself.

‘One-way ticket to Mumbai, eh? Running home to mamma?’

‘It’s none of your business. Let me go or I’ll scream.’

Creep smirked, then tutted. ‘Come on, darling. You know what’ll be the result of that. You see those pricks in yellow vests carrying walkie-talkies? They’ll come over and separate us. That’ll get you away from me and straight into the arms of the people you’ve been running from. Do you want that?’

By the time he’d finished his little speech, they’d made it to a waiting area. A recycling bin and one with food waste – which reeked of fish – leaned against the last of the three vacant seats. Nina’s captor pushed her into the middle chair and took the seat next to her, farthest from the bins.

‘Seriously, Shah? I’ve to sit next to this cesspit?’ Cabbie barked.

Shah didn’t loosen his hand from around Nina’s shoulders. ‘Sit down, Pratt.’

Grumbling, Pratt sat his arse in the chair but turned his legs so he didn’t face the bins.

Shah caged Nina’s backpack between his feet. Trapped so tight, he would be working his inner thigh muscles extra hard. Nina considered making a grab for it but knew both men could easily overpower her. And Nina couldn’t leave her backpack behind. It held everything: her laptop, a change of clothes, the toiletries she’d managed to grab from her house and, oddly, her dead colleague’s camera.

The crowd increased, people reading the departure boards to check which gate their flight was boarding at. Five minutes later, the couple sitting opposite them stood up and left, dragging their eight-year-old, whose eyes were fixed on his iPad. A bottle on the boy’s lap tumbled to the floor and rolled towards Nina.

Nina groaned and shuffled in her chair.

‘Stop twitching,’ Shah spat, his spittle spraying on her forehead.

Nina winced. ‘I just… I’m a nervous flyer. I need to take my medicine.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘But—’

‘No!’ he said with enough force for another spray to land on her head.

Nina intertwined her fingers, uncrossed them then joined them again. Then she fidgeted with her coat. Pratt had pulled his phone out and was stabbing at it with a sausage-like forefinger. Apparently, solitaire was more engaging than the danger of her being a flight risk. Nina’s tickets sat flapping in Shah’s coat pocket, stuffed with a couple of others. They had found her and were now taking her… where? To Mumbai? London? Somewhere completely different?

Shah settled back in his chair, surveying the airport as if the world were his oyster, like he’d lit the firewood on her corpse and was watching it burn. That’s exactly what it felt like – certain death.

Who were these men? Why the hell were they after her?

She wasn’t going to ask. If they asked her about that night, she had little to say to them.

She stared at her fingers. ‘Look, I have blood on my hands. It’s not mine. I need to clean it before someone finds it suspicious.’

Shah eyed her. ‘You’re past security.’

‘Yes, but if someone sees this—’ She showed him the outline of red-brown around her nails, then her palm, where a few streaks still marred her skin.

‘No,’ was his only reply.

Nina sat back. That tactic wouldn’t work. She needed to think of a better escape plan. Think, Nina!

Fifteen minutes later, she stretched up, then kneaded her knees. Shah cast her a warning glance then resumed his perusal of the airport.

Nina continued her stretches, bending and twisting before sitting back in her seat, ‘I really should use the loo.’

Shah shook his head and tightened his legs around her backpack.

‘I’m not kidding. I’ve got to go.’

He turned to her, his dark eyes so opaque, she couldn’t begin to guess what he was thinking. ‘Working in a prison with worse people than you, I’ve heard better excuses than a bastard needing a piss. You need to go, go.’

‘Where?’

‘Here.’

Nina blinked at him. ‘Here? You want me to… go in my chair?’

‘Aye.’ He’d lost interest in her and had resumed looking at the people on the opposite side of the waiting area.

Nina squeezed her legs together. ‘Please let me go. You’ve got my backpack, my tickets. There’s nowhere I can go without either of those.’

This time he didn’t even respond.

‘Please,’ Nina tried again. ‘Please.’

‘No.’

Nina kept breathing through her mouth, then squeezed her legs tighter. ‘I can’t hold it anymore. I’m about to… about to… Please .’

Pratt looked up from his solitaire. ‘Let her go, Shah.’

‘Both of you, shut up. And you, don’t threaten me. You want to go, do it here.’

Nina gritted her teeth and imagined jabbing this man. Instead, she squeezed her legs again and felt it – the first trickle. Right there, in a crowded airport, Nina wet her trousers. If that eight-year-old saw her now, he’d have things to say.

The liquid spread around her, and Nina shut her eyes. The last thing she needed was eyes on her, judging her. Her trouser legs were quickly soaked, and the liquid spread lower, lower until?—

‘Oh, sweet Jesus!’ Pratt jumped up. ‘Fuck!’

Shah blinked out of his stupor and turned to see what Pratt was pointing at. His eyes widened when he saw Nina sitting in a pool of liquid.

Nina shrugged. ‘Now can I go to the loo and at least clean myself up?’

‘Let her go, Shah. Shit! I’m not sitting next to her!’ Pratt shouted.

‘Shut up!’ Shah growled, looking around to ensure no one was looking. He stood up, making sure his coat didn’t brush against Nina’s chair.

The drip-drip-drip of the liquid sounded painfully loud to Nina, her ears amplifying the sound just to drive the mortification home.

‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘This is humiliating enough. Haven’t you had your kicks yet? Let me go to the loo and clean up. I have a spare set of clothes in my backpack.’

Shah studied the floor again. The liquid was now forming a puddle under her chair. He cast a glance back towards the rest of the waiting area.

Nina shifted in her seat to show him how uncomfortable she was. At least the two men had the decency to stop looking at her.

Shah cursed. ‘Shit! Fine. You’ll go to the loo. But I’m coming with you.’

‘Into the ladies?’ Nina asked as she leaned on her right butt cheek. She felt the source of her liquid – the child’s forgotten bottle, which she’d wedged between her thighs – slip out from behind her butt. She wiggled in her seat to shove the bottle to the floor then stood up, eyeing her handiwork.

Who knew a bottle of fizzy juice could help her escape thugs? When she reached down for her backpack, Shah snatched it up. ‘I’ve got it. You walk.’

So, her soaked trousers dripping on the floor, Nina paraded across the waiting area. Some people looked up from their phones at the sight of her. She swore someone was videotaping her. But Shah intercepted, shadowing her face and his. If their picture found its way online, she and her abductor could both be exposed.

Nina didn’t like the attention – no adult liked attention when they’d wet themselves, even if it was purposefully. She followed the signs to the loos, hoping the crowds would hide her not-so-secret liquid trail. Her cheeks burned until humiliation became her blood.

They walked past a few bars teeming with holidaygoers. Back here, most people were only interested in their own business, and no one gave her a second glance. Though Nina caught a headline on the TV inside one of the bars.

‘Fire at Walls Street Ploy to Hide Murder’ flashed on the screen against the backdrop of a building, now a burned husk. The structure lay abandoned like a discarded heap of charcoal some demon had gnawed on. Two months ago, the area had been barricaded with blue police tape, now even that fluttered in the breeze like cut ribbon from a discarded gift.

Nina breathed out her anxiety. She had thought fire would help. It annihilated crucial forensic evidence, didn’t it? Evidence, that, in fact, she had committed the murder.

When they reached the loos, Nina turned to Shah. ‘I’ll need some time.’

‘Five minutes, otherwise I’m coming in there.’

Not in a mood to argue with him, Nina nodded. She really wanted to peel her trousers off. ‘Could I get my backpack?’

‘No, just the clothes.’

Hell! That wasn’t the plan! She needed the damned phone! ‘But I?—’

‘Take it or get on the plane as you are.’

Nina unzipped the backpack and pulled out two packs. She always put everything in travel bags. It was easier to unpack and pack. As an investigative journalist, she tended to travel a lot at a moment’s notice. And you never knew when life could change.

Now that habit would indeed stand her in good stead.

Shah gripped her hand. ‘Just the clothes.’

‘No,’ she protested. ‘I need wipes to clean myself. And the roll-on perfume to make sure I don’t stink up the plane.’ Fizzy juice, even if it wasn’t stinky, was sticky.

Shah grunted and gestured at her to make haste. Nina reached for the door handle when he reminded her, ‘Five minutes.’

As always, there was a queue. Nina dashed past the waiting women shouting, ‘Sorry, emergency. Sorry!’

She heard a few complaints, but one look at Nina’s backside and everyone shut up.

Nina locked herself into a cubicle and breathed. Her heart was still hammering, but she had five minutes. She hung up the bags before slipping out of her trousers and dumping them on top of the bin in the corner. Thirty seconds later, she’d swiped a wet wipe down her leg and was tugging on her fresh beige trousers. Her teal shirt followed.

She considered her options. Shah had her tickets. Her phone was still in the backpack so she couldn’t rebook herself on another flight. Anything else she did would raise suspicion and attract attention from the authorities. Her only viable option was to comply with Shah.

Nina sighed. If she’d timed herself right, she had just under three minutes to get out.

Nina riffled through her toiletries bag, thinking about her next plan of action. She didn’t have her backpack or phone; nor was she a spy with hidden gear. She rummaged through her pockets, then her travel pack, praying for inspiration. Something brushed against her hand. Her rose-gold hygiene kit! It came with travel-safe compact scissors, a pair of nail clippers, a nail file and tweezers. Bingo!

With a minute to spare, Nina stepped out of her cubicle. The queue had vanished. Women left the loos, but no one entered. Shah had, apparently, taken up the post of gatekeeper, ensuring no one but her was in here. That also meant he planned to enter if she didn’t leave within his stipulated five minutes.

Nina set her packs beside the sinks and washed her hands.

The last cubicle opened, and a woman stepped up next to Nina. Nina smiled at her, and she reciprocated.

Nina dried her hands, then pulled out her tweezers. If they were shining before, they sparkled now. But her nail file was scratched beyond repair. Nina palmed the tweezers, then set the kit back on the counter.

The woman dabbed some lipstick on her lips, then walked out the door, leaving Nina in absolute echoing silence.

She didn’t waste time. Nina lunged towards the wall next to the exit and pressed her back to it. And just in time, because bam! The door burst open. A leather-clad back with shoulders wide enough to be a man’s stepped through, and then the door’s hydraulics gently clicked it shut, caging Nina inside the loo with Shah.

She clenched her newly sharpened tweezers tighter as Shah stalked over to the first cubicle. She bit her lip, waiting for him to peek into the stall – then struck.

Her single step slapped like heavy metal against tiles.

Shah swivelled, but Nina raised her fist – the tweezers flashing – and stabbed. The tweezers sank in, as easily as a knife through a potato. She heard a slick noise as they embedded in Shah’s arm.

He howled, and Nina’s backpack slipped from his grip and smacked on the floor.

Nina didn’t waste a beat: she pulled her tweezers out of his arms, heard the tearing of flesh – or imagined that bit – then buried her wee weapon into his shoulder.

Despite the pain, Shah still fought. He grabbed her arm and tugged, his grip strong enough to send Nina skittering across the floor.

She pulled her backpack with her. It was now or never. If he overpowered her now, that would be the end of her freedom. Possibly her life. She had lost her tweezers in his flesh. And he lay between her and the door.

Nina fumbled to sit up as Shah pushed off the floor, even as blood spilled from his wounds.

Gritting her teeth, Nina swung her backpack towards his head.

Not a good move.

Shah smacked it so hard, the momentum caused Nina to lose her balance. He lunged for her; she kicked, but Shah caught her leg again and pulled her back to the floor.

She was losing. Any moment now, Pratt would come in. And then it would be game over for her.

Nina twisted round, gripped the counters and pulled herself up. Shah still clung to her legs, but she used all her upper body strength. Then Nina patted the counter for her packs. She’d left them open to one side. She… There! She gripped the kit as Shah swiped her legs from under her again. Nina’s elbows collided with the floor, just as the pouch thunked by her head.

Pain smarted up her shoulders, but still she grappled with the scissors from her kit. Seeing what she was doing, Shah dived towards her.

But Nina swung her arm, pain forgotten, and lodged the scissors straight into Shah’s thigh.

‘Aaarghhhh!’ He cried so loud, the sound rang in the confined space. Funny how no one had entered to check what the hullabaloo was about, though silence didn’t mean security wasn’t on their way.

She had to get a move on! As Shah writhed on the floor, various parts of him oozing blood, Nina scrambled up. She stomped a foot on the man’s pelvis, straight between his legs.

As he howled in agony, she collected her packs then slung her backpack over her shoulder and sprinted outside. She caught sight of the black-and-yellow sign overhead, but aside from departure gates, it didn’t give her much information.

Think, Nina! You’ve flown out of here a few times before!

With a breath, Nina tightened her grip and followed a stream of people, eyes searching for an exit.

If she loitered here, she would be easy pickings for Shah or Pratt.

Nina looked around to see if she could find the stairs. Surely they would lead her to an exit?

She found a door that looked promising and tried to push it open – locked. Shit! She made a dash towards the escalators and then realised they didn’t lead to the airport exit.

‘Hey!’ a shout rang out behind her, drawing a few lazy eyes. Pratt was running towards Nina, his long legs ensuring he was catching up fast, bulging belly or not.

Oh hell! Nina swept her gaze over the scene of people, bags, food cans, bins and?—

A lift tinged open. A woman with a pram stepped out, then reached back for the first of three carry-on suitcases.

Nina could either get on that lift but risk Pratt jumping in with her or?—

‘Stop!’ Shah emerged from the toilet roaring, bleeding and pointing straight at her.

Apparently, all pretences of being careful were gone.

The woman was now dragging the second suitcase out of the lift, her baby in the pram fussing for attention.

Pratt knocked a passenger to the floor in his haste to get to Nina. Shah was closing in; she could hear each smack of his footsteps.

This was it. Pratt and Shah were turning heads. Nina’s legs moved, her survival instincts kicking in. She dodged a few tourists, jumped over a few bags someone had left piled on the floor… And then the child in the pram let out a loud wail, one its mother couldn’t ignore. Suitcases forgotten, the woman turned to her bairn.

The lift’s doors started to shut.

Nina leaped over the woman’s discarded suitcases straight into the lift. It groaned under her graceless landing, and the doors that had been closing began to open once again. Pratt inched closer, just an arm’s length to the lift.

Nina grabbed the woman’s suitcase – ‘Sorry, lady!’ – and sent it rolling Pratt’s way. He saw the wee thing too late, and although he stuck out a leg to kick the suitcase, he stumbled over it instead. The woman turned to see him grabbing at her suitcase and shouted, ‘Thief! He’s stealing my bags!’ Her bairn let out another wail.

More eyes switched to the scene. People gathered around, wanting to help a woman with a child whose bags were being stolen.

Nina plastered herself to the back of the lift, hoping Shah hadn’t seen her rush inside. These lifts didn’t have a close-doors button!

Thanks to the woman, the area in front of the lifts was now crowding up with people, each enquiring after the crying baby and its mother.

Then she saw him, stuck behind a mob of older tourists. Shah’s dark gaze met Nina’s just as the lift doors started to close. She couldn’t see Pratt, but Shah still stood there, vengeance in his eyes.

I will find you, his gaze promised.

But for now,the lift doors shut.

Mumbai would have to wait. Nina had grander plans for Glasgow first.