The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [230]
As Valentin switched on the engine Boris said, “Don’t you think it’s odd, Valentin, that you knew her? That the answer was right there in Washington all this time?”
Their eyes met in the mirror and he gave a snort of laughter as he realized Valentin didn’t know what he was talking about. “You didn’t know,” he marveled. “You still don’t know, you still don’t understand….”
The Luger thudded against his ribs and Genie said, “Shut up, you bastard, or I’ll kill you right now.”
“Are you all right?” Valentin asked.
She turned to look at him and in that split second Boris thrust downward on her hand. There was a dull plop as her finger slid nervously on the trigger but the bullet passed harmlessly through the floor of the car, and then the Luger was in Boris’s hands. He held it to Valentin’s neck, the sweat trickling down his bald head into his collar, one eye on Genie shrinking back in the corner, ready to kill her if she moved. “Get out of the car,” he ordered. “Start walking back to the ship. If you try to run away, I’ll shoot.”
She hesitated. She knew it would take Boris only a second to switch the gun from Valentin to her if she tried to run. A second was all she had to save herself and Valentin.
“Hurry!” he screamed. “Move!”
She half turned as if to open the door and then flung herself recklessly on the hand holding the gun. The Luger dropped to the floor again. Shouting a string of curses, Boris pushed her away and bent to pick it up. His fingers had just closed around the gun when Genie stamped on them as hard as she could.
Valentin was out of the car and hauling Boris out by his collar. He pinned him against the door, lashing a sideways chop to the carotid artery at the left of his neck. Boris’s eyes spat hatred for a moment before they glazed and then he slumped silently to the ground.
Genie limped around the car and stared down at him. She licked her lips nervously. “Is he …?” she asked in a small, frightened voice.
Valentin nodded. “It was the only way,” he said tiredly. “Me or him. That’s the way it has always been. Now it’s over.”
She looked about to faint and he put his arm protectively around her shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s just shock, I guess. And my foot. I thought it was going to explode when I stamped on him.”
“Sit in the car,” he said quietly. “I have to take care of him.”
She climbed into the passenger seat, watching numbly as Valentin slung Boris over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. A few moments later she heard a faint splash, then the sound of his hurrying footsteps as he returned to her.
The Scorpio’s engine was still running. He slid it into gear and swung around, heading in the direction of the city. As they joined the evening traffic four police cars sped past them, blue lights flashing and sirens blaring, heading toward Istinye. She turned to watch them. “Are they really going to the freighter?” she asked.
He smiled wryly. “I concocted the story for Boris’s benefit, but it turned out to be true.”
He cut across the hills, past the smart hotels, and down through Taksim Square. Genie was trembling with shock. It all looked so familiar, so normal. If it were not for Valentin she would still be on the freighter, still at the mercy of that evil man….
Valentin fought his way through the traffic jam at the Galata Bridge, heading for Eminonu; he cut through the back streets behind the Spice Market and stopped outside a sleazy hotel with a green neon sign proclaiming it the Hotel Tourist. The sign had all the T’s missing and it was the kind of cheap rooming place where there was no desk clerk after seven in the evening and guests were expected to let themselves in and out. It suited Valentin’s purpose better than his earlier room at Emirgan.
He put a helping arm under Genie’s shoulders as she limped across the pavement. “Two flights of stairs,” he said, picking her up. “You’ll never make it.”
She clung to him like a frightened child, burying her face in his neck. Valentin had saved her.