I pay him his fare and we get out without our bags. Not that it matters. I’ve got enough money to buy all our stuff again. All of my personal bank accounts, I cleared and moved the money to a British bank account, making sure it was untraceable.
“This is it,” Anya says, glancing up at me with wide eyes. “We are really going to leave Moscow.”
I nod. “We are.”
At that moment, the roar of engines catch my attention. “Fuck.”
Anya’s eyes widen. “What is it?” She glances over the same direction I’m looking to see the SUVs that had raided my home racing down the lane toward the airstrip. “How did they find us?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. We need to get on that plane now.” Grabbing Anya’s hand, I yank her into a run for the plane. The steps are thankfully already setup, but there’s no fucking staff here to remove them.
“Go on inside.”
Anya looks hesitant, but does as she’s told.
The pilot comes rushing to the doorway as I unfasten the clasps that hold the staircase to the plane. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, we need to get out of here as fast as possible.” I glance at the SUVs closing in on the plane.
He nods. “Okay, get inside now.”
I do as he says and pull shut the door, locking it from the inside. “Get us in the air, now.”
Anya is standing to one side and I grab her hand, following the pilot into the cockpit as he fires up the engines.
“How fast can you get us in the air?”
Michael’s jaw works. “Two minutes at a push.”
“Fuck.”
Anya remains behind me. “We’re not going to make it, are we?”
The plane beings to move down the runway as, thankfully, it was already positioned on it, ready for the potential of a fast getaway.
And then, I hear the bullets ricochet off the aluminium body.
“Shit, what are you into?” Michael asks, glaring at me accusingly.
“Just get us in the air.”
He nods and focuses as he pushes a lever forward, forcing the plane to shudder to life and go down the runway faster. All the while, bullets continue to hit the plane.
Anya cowers at the back of the cockpit where the man I hired is sitting in the pilot’s chair. I’m sitting in the co-pilot seat, not that I am of much help.
He’s British and therefore I hope he won’t have any interest in selling us out to Grigory Lebedev, since now he knows we left by aircraft, he will widen the search.
The plane hurtles down the runway as the end comes into sight and then lifts off at the last moment, bullets still following as they try to bring us down.
I glance behind at Anya and she is on the floor with a flood of tears are rushing down her cheeks. It’s clear that she’s scared, but soon she’ll be safe forever. We both will be. I never thought that I’d be the one to flee for something as whimsical as love, but here I am, running from Grigory Lebedev with his daughter.
I hate to see her like this. It’s not how we were supposed to leave, but clearly one of my men disclosed my plan to flee the country. None of that matters now. If all goes well, we will be in London in seven hours. After that, I’ve secured a meeting with a man who can make us new passports with a new second name, before I intend to take a Virgin Atlantic flight to America. It may take a few days, but our new life together is within our grasp.
Once the plane is at a cruising altitude of fifteen thousand feet, I glance at the pilot. “Are we all clear?”
He glances at me. “Yes, the plane took no substantial damage. ETA to London is about seven hours.”
I nod in response and stand. “Call over the tannoyif we hit any issues.”