Chapter Text
Before even the first word had left the mouth of the old man sitting on the other side of the table, Yelizaveta knew what he was thinking. In his eyes, she was weak. In his world, she was terrified of him, and she would give in to anything he would say, and she was an easy target for a person like him. Yelizaveta bit her lip so as not to say anything. It only made her work easier if he wanted to think about such things. The man was not pleasant to look at and, around the sixty years of age, supported a belly that covered his belt if he had bothered to even wear one. Yelizaveta was pretty sure that the hair on his head was not natural but a toupee, and she wanted to question the man about that. If she would, everything would most likely go sideways. Still, the idea of poking his insecurities a bit made her grin slightly.
It was not the first time Yelizaveta had been in this situation. The man gazed at her and then women who brushed around his chest, as they hoped that the more they gave him attention, the more they would get paid. Yelizaveta wondered how one ended up taking a job like that and how much the women needed to get paid to touch a man like him. None of them would’ve been here if it wasn’t for the money. Yelizaveta looked around and saw that most of the women at the club were most likely her age, some even younger than she was. She tried to keep her head in the conversation, no matter how unpleasant the situation felt. This was strictly business, and she intended to keep it that way. As long as there were no comments about her appearance and how that surely affected her competence to get the job done, she kept her mouth shut about the women buzzing around the man and about the fact that she despised men like him. As long as there was no mention of how she must’ve felt honoured to speak to a great man like him, she wouldn’t ask if he had had the whole horse as breakfast.
Just business. She will get the goods, he will get the cash, and they both go their own ways.
The man waved the girl to fetch something from the backroom, and she simply nodded before running to her errand in her six-inch heels. Just walking, not even speaking of running, on those was a feat of its own, and Yelizaveta couldn’t but envy how effortlessly the woman could do that. Yelizaveta watched the bodyguards, standing still behind the bastard of a man who didn’t even hide that he was checking her body, every curve of her waist and every tip of her hair, and just thinking of what was going on in his head made her want to gag.
“Just business,” Yelizaveta told herself. “Just endure, and soon it’s all over. It’s not every day you get to do this kind of shopping for such a good price.”
The girl returned after a minute that felt like a much longer period, carrying a case cuffed to her hand. Clearly, if someone wanted the case, they had to take the girl as well, and when looking at her, Yelizaveta didn’t mind that, she could’ve very well do that if given the chance. She was younger than her, with wavy brown hair and a gentle smile, and the more she looked at her, the worse she felt when she knew she would need to leave her behind. Maybe in another world, Yelizaveta could take the girl with her and offer her a better life in her family, ask her what she wanted to do and offer her the life she desired instead of being handcuffed to the case. The girl sat on the sofa, where the man brushed her hair, making Yelizaveta wonder how badly things would go if she pulled out her gun. Maybe this world could be another world, if she so chose. The man filled in the lock's combination, revealing the items inside the case, and based on the look on his companions’ faces, they had not understood what kind of trade was taking place that evening.
Diamonds. Non-traceable. Worth more than an average person would make in their lifetime. For Yelizaveta, it was something nice she could send to a goldsmith to finish her newest jewellery set. They would make a delicate necklace and a pair of earrings to go with it, and suddenly, talking to the man didn’t feel nearly as bad as it had just mere minutes ago. There were some things Yelizaveta liked: power, beautiful things and men who respected women. Not just her, but women in general. Without a word or looking at the man, Yelizaveta waved her hand at one of her bodyguards, his tall figure towering over her and the diamonds. The man stepped forward at Yelizaveta’s command, and his gloved hand hovered over the opened case, the gleaming diamonds reflecting in his brown eyes. There was no flicker of emotion, only a cold and focused gaze as he handpicked the stone. Yelizaveta’s business partner had some dignity, unlike she had thought. She had prepared to fight for the right to check the goods, but fortunately, she hadn’t had to use force to meet the bare minimum.
The room was silent. The man on the other side of the table, who claimed to own these jewels, appeared calm as ever. However, a bead of sweat betrayed him and showed Yelizaveta he wasn’t as sure about his goods as he appeared. The man held the diamond, inspecting it under the room’s low light. After not even a minute, he put the gem back in its velvet resting place and drew out a small diamond tester. Yelizaveta saw how the man watched intently as her appriser carefully applied the device’s tip to the diamond, and there was a moment of silence before a green light lit up on the tester. A sigh of relief washed over the room, and the man looked at Yelizaveta, giving her a nod.
The man across the table seemed relieved, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he gestured at the case. “See, I told you they were genuine. You had nothing to worry about.”
“I never doubted you, sir,” Yelizaveta answered monotonously. “Now, to your payment.”
Yelizaveta reached for a brown leather case next to her. The old man’s greedy eyes sparkled as he reached for it, his wrinkled hands not quite trembling but clearly eager. Yelizaveta watched him open the case, her face indifferent and not showing any emotions. She could almost see the glimmer in the man’s eyes as he saw stacks of bills. His lips twitched into a smile, baring yellowed teeth she wished he would fix with his newly gained money.
He did not bother to count the money.
His trust in her payment was as blind as his desire for wealth.
Once the trade was completed and Yelizaveta had gained a much lighter suitcase, she stood up, her heels on the floor echoing through the room. She had the diamonds, and he had the money - laundered and untraceable, just as she promised. She gazed at the girl who had been locked to the case just moments before, and as much as she wanted to take her, she knew that asking that would cross the line with the man. Still, she hoped the girl would find a workplace other than a club like this.
Just as Yelizaveta had turned around to leave the place alongside her bodyguards, a loud bang echoed from the door, making her twist towards the noise. The door burst open as a squad of police officers flooded the room, and the sight of them was enough to shatter the previous silence; the women shrieked and scattered, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the police as possible. They didn’t want to get caught and questioned about what they had just witnessed. The old man sat frozen, the bag of laundered money still in his hands. Yelizaveta grinned a bit. He would not talk himself out of that situation. However, Yelizaveta knew she wouldn’t be able to do that either, but after a second or two of thinking, she concluded that there was no way she was running away from the situation, at least not yet.
“Yelizaveta Dragomirov!” the officer, a tall man with greying hair, yelled. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy to traffic illegal goods and money laundering.”
That was a fancy way to tell what she did, and Yelizaveta had to commend the man for being able to say all of those words without taking a breath in-between. The room was in chaos. The man Yelizaveta had just purchased the diamonds from dropping the money bag as if it burned him, stuttering denials. The girls screamed and ducked for cover, some slipping away to avoid getting detained. Yelizaveta saw how fast the man’s bodyguards abandoned him in the situation. She grinned; this situation was exactly why you treated people around you with respect. That was what made her better than him.
“I’m afraid there’s been a mistake, officer,” she said, her voice smooth and untroubled. “I’m here merely for a business transaction.”
“We have a warrant.”
“Do you, officer?”
“Don’t play games with me, Dragomirov. You aren’t fooling me with your appearance.”
At his words, one of Yelizaveta’s bodyguards, who had examined the diamonds earlier, nudged her lightly. Yelizaveta’s eyes darted to where he was looking, spotting a narrow hallway towards the back door. Without losing another moment, Yelizaveta gave a signal to her men, and immediately, they moved, intercepting the police, allowing her a clear path toward the exit. She moved swiftly, her heels clicking against the floor, both cursing her shoe choice but also proud of herself for being able to run in those.
Just as she reached the hallway, a couple of officers spotted her, their shouts echoing in the room. However, they were too late. Yelizaveta was already out of the door, her men following close behind.
“Close the area!” she heard a policeman yelling outside. “She’s not escaping us!”
A quick and clean getaway was what Yelizaveta had initially envisioned, but as chaos unfolded around her, such an ideal escape evaporated into thin air. Survival became her prime focus. This wasn’t the first time Yelizaveta had had to run, and it wouldn’t be the last. Being the head of a crime family running generations deep, combined with her age of twenty-six and distinctively short, blonde-haired appearance and caramel skin, made her stick out if she tried to escape by foot.
“Miss, this way!” one of his bodyguards yelled, his voice cutting through the mayhem as he gestured toward a car parked by the roadside.
Yelizaveta darted towards the car.
The instant she slid into the back seat, her guard slammed the door shut. Her appraiser, still clutching the diamond-filled suitcase, scrambled into the front seat, his face focused on the escape.
The car’s original occupant looked taken aback by the sudden invasion of his space, a coffee mug in his hand. His gaze darted between a woman who had just hijacked his car and the tall man sitting next to him as he clearly attempted to process the abrupt turn of events. After a moment, he regained his composure. He carefully set his single-use coffee cup into the holder, more calmly than he probably should’ve, while looking at the people who had just invaded her vehicle.
“Drive!” Yelizaveta yelled, her voice filling the Mini Cooper.
The man stared at Yelizaveta like he had seen an alien. Yelizaveta cursed the man’s inability to follow a simple order.
“I said, fucking drive!” she shouted, while pulling a Beretta M9 from her coat pocket.
“Please don’t shoot me,” the man finally spoke. “I’m a private detective, not a cop.”
“I don’t care what you are, you are free to choose your career path later. I care you drive.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here!”
The man stepped on the gas, and the black and red Mini Cooper moved forward swiftly. Although clearly distressed, the man could hold himself together enough to drive them away from the most central area before the police had had enough resources to trap them there. Yelizaveta leaned back against the seat, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced at the suitcase held by her appraiser, and she didn’t want to think of how the rest of his men would get away after ensuring her escape. They would, but she was still glad she had better bodyguards than the old man. The diamonds were hers despite the incident, and she had escaped the police again.
“I’m sorry, miss, I mean madam,” the man driving the car spoke with a slim voice. “Where should I drive?”
She should’ve kicked him out now when they had lost the police, but for now, she just wanted to sit down and not move for a moment.
“Just keep the road M1 for now.”
There was no reason to keep him around. He both sounded and looked pathetic for a man.
“Drive to Leeds East Airport.”
The man had brown hair that formed slight curls while barely reaching his neck, thick eyebrows, and square eyeglasses. He had a short stubble, and either he or the whole car smelled cheap coffee. If she just dropped him at the side of the road, he could do nothing, and Yelizaveta was unsure if he could hitchhike back to London or if he would be hit by the first truck that crossed his path. Yelizaveta could’ve made his life easy and just kick him off, but she also wanted to see how well the man would handle the pressure, as he looked like he would do that as well as a landmine which had been stepped upon.
“I don’t know how, madam,” the man answered.
“You have a bloody navigator in your car. Use it,” Yelizaveta hissed, pulling the gun back into her coat pocket.
Utterly useless, like most of the men were.
“Uh, yes, miss.”
She had pointed a gun at him, and he still told her he didn’t know how to reach the destination. Yelizaveta couldn’t help but wonder if he was in shock, an idiot, or the bravest person because of that. Still, she was heavily betting on the idiot card.
“And if you need to address me, the boss is better than miss or madam,” Yelizaveta said, taking a more comfortable position in the back seat.
“Yes, boss.”
At least he was polite. Probably an airhead, yet still polite. He had one good quality against multiple bad ones she had come up with so far.
“There you go,” Yelizaveta sighed.
The man was clearly older than Yelizaveta but younger than her bodyguard sitting beside him, probably around his thirties, maybe in the better half of the decade, but he had still kept some of his younger features. The man had said that he was a private detective. Still, Yelizaveta didn’t recognise him from any of her files, so either he had lied, he was a rookie, or she should’ve fired her own investigator. There shouldn’t be anyone who looked like him she should’ve been aware of, as usually the people who hunted her down were anything but rookies on their first mission.
“You got a name?” she asked.
The man gazed into the mirror to see Yelizaveta in the back seat; her legs crossed, kicking the coffee cup on the car’s floor. There were quite many such specimens on his vehicle, some no doubt any less than several months old.
“Samuel.”
“Surname?”
“Adler.”
“Good try, but let’s try again. Your real surname.”
“Uh?”
“If you want people to believe you, don’t grip the steering wheel so hard that your knuckles are white,” Yelizaveta looked over the driver’s shoulder. “Let’s not forget that I need the car, not you. Now, the name.”
“Bloody hell. Samuel. Samuel Herrington. Although most people who know me refer to me as just Sam.”
“Much better.”
Yelizaveta pulled the phone out of her pocket and quickly typed a message to her assistant. In just minutes, she would know if Samuel Herrington was real or if the brown-haired man would find a new hole in his face to stick the straw to.
“If you keep talking, the rest of the drive will go faster. Oh, and just drive straight to the tarmac at the back. Don’t stop; my people know you are coming.”
Samuel nodded, clearly distressed about the situation. Yelizaveta quite enjoyed watching him try to hold himself together while driving on the highway. Samuel’s face was not the most sculpted, with a sharp jawline, but more on the rounder side. Yet, something about him made Yelizaveta interested enough to keep him around and not just dump him on the side of the road. Samuel’s glasses were heavy, and his clothes had seen better days yet were still well kept, although not the newest fashion. His hands had long fingers, and they wrapped to the wheel as he made his way to the airport, yet still, he looked like he would break if she applied just enough pressure on him.
After tapping her fingers together, Yelizaveta received a message on her phone’s encrypted Slack channel.
Name: Samuel Herrington
Birthday: August 7th 1989, London
Age: 36
Background information: Received training to work as an officer. However, currently working as a private detective, assisting in minor cases as a freelancer. Both parents are alive, divorced, younger sister from his father’s second marriage. No information regarding a partner, not in frequent contact with his family.
Samuel hadn’t lied about being a private detective, but it seemed he hadn’t been important enough for Yelizaveta to know about his existence. Information continued in the second message, accompanied by pictures of him and his family. Even if he disappeared, it would take at least a few days for anyone to notice.
“Your phone, please,” Yelizaveta ordered.
“My phone?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself unnecessarily. Your phone.”
“I’m sorry, boss.”
Samuel handed his phone to Yelizaveta, who removed the SIM card. She had hoped to find something from the phone wallpaper, maybe a pet or a partner, yet to her disappointment, it had been a plain landscape, most likely one from the phone’s default settings.
“Any other devices?”
“A laptop. It’s in the bag next to you.”
Yelizaveta pulled out an outdated MacBook from the bag. After a quick checkup and the conclusion that there was no way to track the device, she rolled the car window down and tossed the crushed SIM card to the road. Apart from the laptop, the brown leather bag contained a half-drank soda bottle, a couple of receipts, and a calendar accompanied by a pencil. Nothing that could track him, so Yelizaveta stuffed the laptop back into the bag. The computer was something her men would eagerly swipe through, but currently, it was useless to her. The only thing she could do as of now was to wait until they would get to the airport.
The car slowed as they reached Leeds East Airport, and Samuel drove through the entrance without slowing down, heading straight towards the private jet area. The black vans were parked near the jet, and seeing them made Yelizaveta sigh in relief because she knew that if those cars were there, so were her men.
“See, it wasn’t so hard, was it?” Yelizaveta said.
“No, boss.”
Yelizaveta pondered what she wanted to do with Samuel. There was no way he would just go his way after what happened, a private detective or not, but she still weighed multiple options. Samuel had been as good as he could, and Yelizaveta couldn’t deny that she had been surprised at how well he had taken the situation. Toying with him had been the highlight of her day, and brought her a slightest bit of joy during the car ride.
They pulled up to a sleek, black airplane, the unmistakable silhouette of the Learjet 85 glistening under the floodlights. A pair of security guards approached them as the car stopped, and Yelizaveta rolled down her window, showing her face to the guards. Recognising her, they gave her a nod without saying a word and allowed the car to pass, and as the car rolled to a stop by the jet, the door opened, and one of Yelizaveta’s bodyguards stepped out. He was tall, with a chiselled jaw and muscular build, which made Yelizaveta grin; compared to them, Samuel felt like a twig that could’ve been snapped in half in seconds.
“Out of the car,” Yelizaveta ordered, keeping her gaze on Samuel.
Yelizaveta took back her compliment to him, keeping himself collected, as she saw how Samuel was visibly sweating, his hands shaky as he undid his seat belt and opened the door to step out. As he moved, Yelizaveta got out after her diamond appraiser opened the door to her, hurrying towards the plane, as the man next to her handed the suitcase to the man standing by the aircraft before stepping aside, giving Yelizaveta the needed space.
She turned to Samuel, who was still standing awkwardly by the car, unsure what to do next. Yelizaveta contemplated one last time what she should do with him, until she decided that if she left him there, she wouldn’t get back to London on her own.
“Get on the plane.”
“But,” Samuel protested, but the look in Yelizaveta’s eyes seemed to silence him immediately.
Swallowing his words, he followed her onto the plane, and Yelizaveta saw how his steps were hesitant. Once onboard, Yelizaveta made her way to the end of the aircraft in a private space reserved for her while Samuel followed her, seemingly unsure of what he should do. She dropped onto one of the leather seats, and waved Samuel to take a seat across from her, who kept his gaze lowered as he seemed like he tried to make himself as small as possible.
“We leave in five,” Yelizaveta ordered into the intercom, not bothering to look at Samuel.
As the jet rumbled, Yelizaveta leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes as she breathed relief. Despite the complications, they had pulled it off. The diamonds were hers, and she had escaped the police once again. However, she had still not decided what to do with Samuel, although she was sure there were many things he would be capable of. Getting a random man from England to her private jet wasn’t something she had planned for her trip.
When Yelizaveta thought about the situation, Samuel was unlike the men usually around her; her bodyguards trained to protect her at the cost of their own lives and professionals of various underground businesses that worked for her. Samuel, however, was fragile like a wineglass, even if he tried not to show it. He could tell himself how he was a private detective, a man or someone’s son, but in Yelizaveta’s head, he was nothing like men in her world. Nobody could find his car or him as long as she wanted to keep him around, or afterwards, if he had so decided.
“So, Samuel Herrington,” Yelizaveta started.
“Yes?”
“You are the most unfortunate man in London. Few get taken as a hostage like this.”
“I guess not, madam.”
One of Yelizaveta’s crew arrived in her area, and after a quick discussion in Albanian, a server carried tall glasses of see-through liquid to both her and Samuel before nodding and leaving. Yelizaveta saw how Samuel looked pale like a ghost, and how he probably fought really hard to not completely collapse.
“Relax, it’s just water. And a lime slice,” she said in a joyful tone.
“Thank you.”
“Tell me, were you part of the police operation, Samuel?”
“No, boss.”
“You can drop the boss now when we are alone. My name is Yelizaveta Dragomirov. But you can call me Vera as long as you stay obedient.”
Samuel’s eyes widened for a moment, but he kept silent and answered only with a nod, and Yelizaveta wondered if he had possibly heard her name before. It was not unheard of, but unlikely, since her people kept a good track of who was aware of her, and a random private detective didn’t seem a likely candidate. After Yelizaveta had taken a long sip of her water, Samuel did the same with his glass, and she grew more pleased with her decision to take him with every passing moment. Seeing him trying to hold himself together brought her immense joy if nothing else, as she knew how easily he could break if she so wanted.
“Why were you at the scene?”
“It was just a coincidence, Vera.”
“It’s never just a coincidence, and I believe you can guess what will happen if you lie. Trust me, I will find out if you do.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing good,” Samuel looked down.
“No, it’s not.”
Yelizaveta got up and walked to the door that divided her area from the rest of the plane. She locked it and double-checked it before returning to her seat, while looking at the man who looked like he was battling for his dear life. When looking at him, him being at the scene could’ve been a coincidence after all, yet she would check every security camera and message on Samuel’s laptop and phone just in case he had had the courage to lie to her.
“Take a comfortable position, Sam. It’s going to take a while to get to the destination.”
“Where are we going?” Samuel realised quickly that he had made a mistake. “Am I allowed to ask questions?”
“Depends on the question. The first landing is unimportant to you. We are just dropping off the cargo.”
“Oh, the diamonds.”
Yelizaveta burst out into laughter. “No, you silly, those were just souvenirs to myself.”
She could see the confusion on Samuel’s face.
“Your... souvenirs?”
“But of course, I hadn’t been in London for a while and had some leftover cash, so I treated myself with a small present.”
“But I heard you talking about diamonds worth a million, yes?”
“I already said that you shouldn’t make me repeat myself. Yes, it was a gift. From me to me. The fact that my little shopping trip got a nasty police invasion had nothing to do with it.”
“Your... million dollar shopping trip?”
“I thought they would make a nice necklace when I deliver them to a goldsmith.”
“That was your leftover cash? What’s the cargo?”
Yelizaveta stretched and crossed her legs. Maybe she should’ve left him to float at the Thames after all, as it seemed like he loved to ask questions which were not important to him. She sighed and leaned across the table so her face was close to Samuel’s, and she could count the small hairs of his stubble. Her grin grew wider by the second, and so did the discomfort in Samuel’s body, if his reaction was anything to judge. Yelizaveta loved the terror in his eyes as he tried to avoid her gaze.
“The twenty-five million euros worth of weaponry. Guns. Missiles. Grenades. Anything to make my loyal customers happy,” Yelizaveta said and made that sound like the most mundane thing in the world.
If Yelizaveta had a camera, she would’ve taken a photo of Samuel’s face. However hard he tried, he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face, which overruled the terror for a split-second.
“Did you think I would go to another side of Europe for a silly afternoon shopping trip?”