Page 143 of Lethal Obsession

“Hang on.” He covers the phone, and I hear voices in the background, then he comes back on. “Are you in the secure room?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending you some CCTV footage.” My screen pings, and I open the link. “It’s from the Mercadona supermarket near the Genil bridge,” Mak says. “Watch the black sedan in the middle of the road, southbound lane.”

I press play and zoom in. The door closest to the center of the road opens, and two figures tumble onto the asphalt, both with their hands tied behind their backs.

One of them is unmistakably Ofelia.

“Christ,” I say flatly, as I watch her zigzag through traffic, then race for a set of stairs and disappear from sight into the channel. “Where the fuck did she go?” I scan the screen, but I can’t see anything at all. My eyes go back to the car. A man leaps out, yelling something into his phone, and tries to follow them across the road. But the lights have changed, and the vehicles start moving, impeding his progress. “Fuck you, you dead motherfucker,” I mutter as I watch him. “Where did she go?” I bark down the line. “I can’t see her. And who is the other woman? Is it Teresa?”

“I don’t know is the answer to your first question. There’s no CCTV beneath the bridge. And the other girl with her is Seline, the Duval gypsy you told me about.”

“Fuck!” I clench my fists in utter frustration. “The Duval girl is the fucking problem, Mak. We need to get hold of her, you understand me? She’s working for the Novikovs. We need to know what she does.”

“I’m aware.” His voice remains as calm as if he’s having a martini.

I watch the man onscreen finally make it to the bridge. He leans over the concrete wall, then races around it, toward the steps in the distance.

“Why the fuck is this prick still walking?” I snarl. “Where the fuck are your people, Mak?”

Before he can answer, a Guardia Civil vehicle pulls out across the intersection, sirens blazing, and blocks the passage of the black sedan. A group of uniforms spills out, covering the bridge on both sides, others racing for the stairs.

“They’re on him, Alexei,” Mak says. “They have him in sight now. He’s running into the water. They’ll have him soon.”

“Ofelia.” I’m gripping the phone so hard it hurts my hand. “Where the fuck is Ofelia?”

Mak is silent for a moment. I hear the crackle of radios in the background.

“They have the Duval girl,” he says finally. “And the Russian chasing them.”

He pauses.

I wait, every nerve in my body strung tighter than piano wire.

“They’ve lost Ofelia,” Mak says.

“What the fuck do you mean, they’ve lost her?” I stare at the screen. “There’s a bridge, Mak, and a river. Not even a very deep one. Where the fuck can she have gone?”

28

Ofelia

The tunnel is pitch-black and extremely slippery.

Going by the smell, I’m almost grateful for the darkness, particularly when something wet and sleek brushes past my leg. I bite down on my yelp of surprise and continue feeling my way along the damp walls with my shoulder, splashing through the shallow water. I tread carefully, listening for any sound of pursuit, but the farther I go into the tunnel, the more silent it becomes.

I lose track of my progress quickly in the darkness. One of my sandals broke during our run from the car, and the other comes apart soon after I start walking. I kick it off and continue barefoot, trying to ignore the sharp edges of debris among the mud and slime. I start counting my footsteps as some kind of measure, partly to give myself a sense of control and partly to block out the hideous mental pictures of Teresa and Julia lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

My fault.

I have the same dull sense of guilt that I did many years ago, when I watched my father’s men die to rescue Masha and me from the Orlovs. Only this is somehow worse.

I chose Teresa and Julia. I took them to Alexei’s yacht. I made them a part of this secret—and now they’re both dead because of it.

At least Seline should be safe.

Ivan said he didn’t have a gun, and he’s hardly going to kill Seline with his bare hands while the police are watching.