Page 13 of Tell No One
The two of them were taken back to the starting post. The pain in Tag’s legs and arms was getting worse. Even walking the length of the course made him hurt.
Juma was pawing at the grass by his side. Tag glanced at him, then faced forward. All those watching had crowded around the finishing posts, yelling encouragement, shouting out their numbers. Not Vadim. He stood there with his arms crossed, watching. Tag wasn’t going to lose just to please him.
The pistol sounded and they were off. Juma pulled slightly ahead but Tag thought he was taking a risk by lengthening his stride. When he faltered, Tag bounded on. He could hear hooves coming up behind him and a sixth sense told him Juma was going to knock into him. Tag veered away and went faster.
He could see the finish line, hear all the men shouting and cheering and for the first time in his life, he thought he was actually going to win something big, even though he’d never be able to tell anyone. Then a hoof clipped his back leg and he went down. Juma ran past and crossed the line first.
Tag struggled to his feet, and it was a fucking struggle, and once he’d run over the line, he went for him. He lowered his head and butted Juma hard in the ribs. In a split second it turned into a fight. Both of them standing upright, striking out with their front hooves, swinging them as weapons. Tag was quicker to avoid blows than Juma and he managed to land a few strikes with his hooves and knocked Juma to the floor. Tag dropped on top of him, only to be pulled off.
“Enough!” Vadim snapped.
“Let them carry on,” Juma’s owner called and several voices chimed in agreeing.
“I want mine in one piece.” Vadim pulled Tag away. “I will be the one breaking him.”
3
What the fuck did the little shit think he was doing? Delaney was livid. Bad enough that he’d had to pay so much for him, not that it was his money and it wouldn’t be lost forever, but now both of them had come to everyone’s attention. He’d been dubious about this aspect of the job working, but fuckwit Barker had persuaded Henry that Delaney needed some cover. More likely Barker had wanted Delaney to struggle and throwing this…kid into the operation had been a way to make that happen.
Delaney’s transformation to Vadim Morozov had begun a month ago when his dark hair had been bleached, then dyed white and his legend created. Vadim had inherited millions when his father had died, but was successful in his own right as a property developer in Russia and the UK. If anyone googled Vadim Morozov, they’d find him all over the Internet, just as for the last month he’d been visible at therightplaces in London.
His legend had to be tight. His life was potentially on the line. A lot of money had been spent and a great deal of effort made to find out what happened to a twenty-five-year-old Saudi prince and diamonds worth £17 million. He doubted the British government particularly cared about the missing prince, apart from the embarrassment of him disappearing while in the UK. What they were most interested in was being owed a favour by the Saudis. Though after this length of time, the chances of Prince Ahsan bin Nagi still being alive were small.
Despite extensive investigations by the police and those working on behalf of the Saudis, no trace had been found of Ahsan or the diamonds. Then Henry had been given a name by a CI—confidential informant.Michael Norbury.The man held exclusive events at Harborne House in Surrey. The place appeared squeaky clean—a popular venue for weddings, anniversaries, corporate events and murder-mystery parties. The trail might have stopped there, but Henry’s instincts told him Norbury arranged more events than that, and he’d been right.
Delaney had been turned into Vadim and when details of the pony party were discovered, securing Vadim an invitation had been a priority. After bribes and threats, Vadim had received his invite, the person who’d recommended him to Norbury unable to be at today’s event. Just in case. Now all Delaney needed to do was get into Norbury’s office and into his computer to copy his files, then get out with his head still attached. Even if there was nothing about Ahsan, Norbury was up to something more than organising this human gymkhana.
Feely, the one who called himself Master, had been under surveillance since Barker had nobbled one of the ponies, and a few days ago, Feely had chosen Tag as a replacement. Delaney had made it clear to Barker and Henry that he didn’t approve of using some random member of the public on a potentially dangerous job, but Barker had worked some bloody magic wand over Henry, and left Delaney with no choice.
Delaney had insisted that Tag should know neither his name nor what he looked like. He hadn’t wanted to be given away before he’d done anything, though the mask helped. Tag was skinny and kind of attractive, but a little shit. Barker’s claim that Tag was a rent boy who’d signed up knowing what was expected, seemed less and less likely. Tag was not a happy pony.
The first test Delaney had set for him, Tag had failed. He might have lost the race, which was what Delaney wanted, but he hadn’t lost it on purpose. How could he be relied on to do what he was told when Delaney really needed him to? Perhaps at a point where both their lives might be in danger?
He couldn’t.
Delaney followed the grooms and ponies as they made their way back towards the house, trying to ignore the tails sticking out of their arses. Not sexy…and yet…sort of sexy. But this definitely wasn’t his sort of thing.All I have to do is pretend.
“How much to fuck him?” a guy asked quietly.
Delaney turned. A man of Middle-Eastern origin who looked to be about the same age as him had come up at his side. Delaney stared straight at him and pressed a button in his pocket. The camera hidden within his mask would add another image to the collection.
“Make me offer.”
He did.
“Double it,” Delaney said.
The man nodded.
Bloody hell.“You really want him.”
“I do. My name’s Hassan.”
“Vadim.”
They shook hands. Delaney didn’t remember this guy bidding anything other than small amounts for three ponies, none of which were Tag.
“So?” Hassan asked.
