Aimee reached across and placed her fingers flat on the back of his hand, a small sigh-like yawn escaping her lips. Alex looked down at her and turned his hand over to grasp her tiny one in his, his thumb stroking her skin.

Aimee rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, her lips turning up contentedly at the corners. Even with the noise of the helicopter, Alex knew in a moment she had fallen asleep. He lifted his arm and carefully folded Aimee into the blanket, kissing the top of her head as she relaxed in closer.

Alex let a long breath escape his lips, leaned back against the cabin wall and after a few more seconds he too closed his eyes; already the dark and the ice seemed a long way away.

Epilogue

One Week Later—A World Away

Viktor Petrov climbed out of his four-poster bed, not caring whether he disturbed the sleeping thirteen-year-old prostitute or not. He smiled to himself as he pulled on his shimmering red silk robe and poured two fingers of L’Esprit de Courvoisier. From a burnished oak box inlaid with pearl, he withdrew a large Cohiba cigar—Castro’s favourite, when he was well enough to smoke them.

Petrov took a large swallow of the golden liquid and chuckled. The forged documents he had purchased were the best money could buy. He had told no one of his plans, left no trail, paid by cash. “Out of your reach forever, Volkov, you little puppy.”

Viktor pushed open the double doors to his balcony and listened to the sounds of a Pattayan early morning. Thailand hadn’t been his first choice, but better to live like a king here than die trying to live like a prince somewhere else. He held his cigar at arm’s length and breathed in all the beautiful Asian aromas—spices, dried shrimp, rotting vegetation and sex. The little Thai dek lek girls were plentiful here and didn’t mind that he smelled or his large, hairy belly almost hid his penis.

There was a small breath on the back of his neck and Viktor half turned. Standing behind Petrov was an apparition from his worst nightmare. A giant figure clad all in black with no features but a single red lens jutting out of a full face mask.

A massive hand wrapped around Viktor’s neck as the giant pulled the mask off his head. Viktor wet the front of his silk robe and his legs would have given way if not for being held in place like a puppet, his feet barely touching the floor. He whimpered as he stared into a brutal, disfigured face with a dark red hole where one eye should have been. The Beast’s deep voice spoke in close to his ear, “Greetings from the president, comrade.”