Emlyn Rees - Manhunt

The willowy blonde sitting beside Colonel Zykov in the back of the black London cab was half his age, and twice as beautiful, he thought, as his wife had ever been. Stepping out into the warm June night, he held out his hand towards her.

Such a gentleman, she said, intertwining her black-gloved fingers with his.

Her name was Hazel. She was Scottish. A Glaswegian, shed explained over cocktails in the fashionable bar theyd just left. Zykov had never visited the distant northern British city, but there was something about this girls accent that reminded him of Eastern Europe and left him feeling quite at home.

He paid the cab driver, before steering Hazel towards his apartment buildings well-lit entrance, on through its revolving glass door and across its polished marble hallway to the lift. He punched an access code into the security control panel. The lifts steel door slid smoothly open.

Ladies first, he said.

She didnt move. Instead she said, When we get upstairs, Im going to do something very special for you. But first of all, I want you to do something for me

What?

Call your office. Tell them you wont be going into work tomorrow. Tell them youre taking a day off. She smiled.

Why?

Because Im not in the habit of one-night stands. Her lips were now almost touching his; he could smell the champagne and kirsch on her breath. Which means tomorrow were going to have a long lie-in. And then youre going to take me out for a very expensive lunch.

At first he thought she was joking. But as the lift door began to close, she stayed exactly where she was.

He pressed the lifts hold button. Hed put too much effort into this conquest to risk losing her now. Taking out his phone, he made the call and left a message on his PAs voicemail.

As soon as hed finished, she kissed him, briefly and gently, before stepping back and giggling drunkenly, clearly pleased at having got her own way.

It was a charming enough sound, he acknowledged, but not something he wanted to become a feature of their night. He hoped shed not had too much to drink. The kind of sex he was anticipating would be neither brief nor gentle. In fact, there was every chance this young Scottish woman would not enjoy it at all.

As they stepped into the lift, he pressed the button marked Penthouse, and was gratified to see a smile of arriviste triumph flicker across Hazels lips.

It was a look hed witnessed many times on many women over the years. Privilege and power, hed long ago learned, were the greatest aphrodisiacs. Especially for the young.

The penthouse had, in fact, originally been earmarked for the use of the deputy ambassador, but the current incumbent was a married football fanatic who lived with his family in nearby Chelsea. Which meant Zykov had got lucky. As military attach to the Russian embassy here in London, hed been considered senior enough to move in here himself.

He caught his reflection in the lifts mirrored wall. The deep scar on his right cheek a memento from a knife fight on a Moscow elektrichka as a boy made him look quite the beast beside this young beauty.

Hed first met her three days ago in his preferred lunchtime caf, around the corner from the embassy in Kensington Palace Gardens. The day had been warm. Shed been wearing a thin white blouse and no bra, hed been delighted to observe, leaving her pert breasts enticingly defined through the near-translucent material. Shed caught Zykov staring. Frustrated, hed had to look away.

And that would have been that, he supposed. Except for the thief. The bearded vagrant had been either drunk, or high on narcotics. Hed entered the caf, staring wildly around, before lurching towards Hazel and snatching her purse from the table.

In truth, Zykov had done nothing. Even though he was a soldier, his position here in London was diplomatic. Which meant it wasnt his place to intervene in such domestic altercations. No matter how attractive the victim might be.

But the thief had stumbled sideways, catching his foot on the leg of Zykovs chair. Hed sent them both crashing to the floor.

Zykov had struggled not to subdue the filthy degenerate, but to get away from him. The thief had scrambled to his feet and fled into the street. In his panic, hed dropped Hazels purse, which Zykov had then gallantly been able to return.

Shed been disproportionately grateful. So much so that it had completely slipped her mind that the colonel had been ogling her cleavage only moments before. She was a trainee accountant in a nearby office block, shed explained. Shed insisted on taking him out for lunch the following day. To thank him. Of course, hed agreed.

The lift slowed to a halt. Its door opened on to a black- and-white -tiled hallway. Without being asked, Hazel strode across it and on into the softly lit reception room.

The colonel flinched as he followed her, noticing that the heels of her stilettos were leaving deep crescent-moon indentations in the plush grey carpet. He considered instructing her to remove them at once, but instead decided to postpone the pleasure of punishing her until later.

He watched her gazing in silent awe at the sculptures and oil paintings that littered the dressers and walls. Shed clearly never encountered wealth like this up close before. He knew there was no way she would walk out on him now.

Proof of this came with the smile she flashed him next. She liked it here, she was telling him. Meaning, he also assumed, that she would do whatever it took to stay. She peered, one by one, through the doorways that led off into the bedrooms. He wondered how shed look on her back.

Why dont we start in here? she said.

Shed chosen the master bedroom, he was pleased to see. The one with the biggest bed. He followed her through and switched on the lights, before turning the dimmer down low.

As she dropped her handbag on to the four-poster bed, he noticed her glancing up at the framed photograph of his daughter on the wall. Katarina was his only child. It occurred to him that she was probably the same age as this British girl hed brought back here to screw. He felt a frisson of pleasure, reflecting that there was clearly life in the old dog yet.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he stepped up behind Hazel, snaked his arms round her slim waist and began clumsily unbuckling her coat. She gasped in pleasure? in pain? He really didnt care which as he roughly squeezed her breasts. Yanking her skirt up over her hips, he jerked her knickers down and groped between her thighs.

As she twisted round to face him, he reached up to grab her short-cropped hair, intending on forcing her to her knees. But the girl was wilful: she pulled free.

She said, Wait.

The colonel quivered with frustration. Hazel kicked off her shoes. She shrugged herself free of her coat and slipped off her skirt, shirt and bra.

So what is this special thing you wish to do for me? he said, no longer addressing her face.

She stepped in close and began unfastening his black silk tie. I want to play a game.

What kind of game?

Her brown eyes glinted darkly as she smiled. A tying-up kind of game.

The colonels pulse quickened. You like a man to be in charge, eh?

I was thinking more the other way around

His eyes widened. SHE wanted to tie him up?

You cannot be serious, he said.