Chapter Twenty Six The Hot Tub
Viktor stood at a window on the first floor, from which he had an excellent view of the terrace, but not of the hot tub itself, building in a layer of deniability.
Viktor had modified the temperature controls that morning, a simple adjustment that would push the water to dangerous levels over the course of the next hour.
By the time James and his new bride were ready for their romantic post-ceremony soak, the water would be hot enough to boil them alive, like the lobsters they were expecting for supper.
By the time they realized something was wrong, it would be too late.
A tragic accident, a malfunctioning heater, the chaos of the wedding day. No one would suspect.
In normal circumstances, he would not have had a hope, a scalded toe at the most, as one of them stepped in. But James had installed mini trampolines on either side of the tub, his ridiculous plan to bounce into the water together. Charming, pathetic and soon to be fatal.
He watched as James and Anastasia emerged from the house, arm in arm, glowing with post-ceremony happiness. James was carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Anastasia was laughing at something he’d said.
Viktor allowed himself a moment on pleasant anticipation. This was it. The first attempt. Simple, elegant, untraceable.
They rounded the corner toward the terrace.
Viktor leaned forward, watching.
James stopped. Stared at the hot tub. Said something Viktor couldn’t hear.
And then Freddie burst out from behind a topiary, phone raised, shouting ‘SURPRISE!’
???
‘Now, I know it’s a bit unconventional,’ James was saying to Anastasia as they approached the terrace, ‘but I thought, after all that snow, the chapel and all that standing about in the cold, we could warm up properly before facing everyone. Just the two of us for a moment.’
Anastasia smiled up at him. ‘That sounds lovely.’
‘I’ve been dreaming about this hot tub for months, you know. Mummy said it was vulgar. Gerald said it was impractical. But there’s just something about a hot tub, isn’t there? The bubbles, the steam, the...’
He stopped.
The hot tub was there, exactly where he’d left it. The mini trampolines were positioned on either side, ready for their ridiculous coordinated bounce. Steam was... not rising from the water. In fact, the water looked rather different from how he remembered it.
It was full of lobsters.
Live lobsters. Dozens of them. Crawling over each other, antennae waving, claws snapping at nothing in particular. The water was no longer steaming because the water was no longer hot: someone had added ice, great chunks of it bobbing between the crustaceans like tiny Arctic icebergs.
‘What the...’ James began.
‘SURPRISE!’
Freddie emerged from behind a topiary, phone raised to capture the moment. Rupert appeared from behind another bush. Archie stepped out from the service entrance, grinning broadly.
‘It’s a wedding gift!’ Freddie announced, practically vibrating with pride. ‘We thought, why not let you see them in their natural habitat?’
‘Freddie,’ James said slowly, ‘that’s a hot tub, not the sea.’
‘Details! Look at their little faces!’ Freddie leaned over the tub, cooing at a lobster that seemed entirely indifferent to his affection. ‘And obviously we couldn’t leave them in hot water: that would be cruel. So we added ice. Archie insisted. He’s got strong feelings about crustacean welfare.’
‘I grew up near the coast,’ Archie said, as if this explained everything. ‘You have to respect the lobster.’
‘We stole them from Jean-Francois,’ Rupert added helpfully.
‘You should have seen his face when he found the empty tanks. He was furious and promised to turn Freddie into foie gras, he chased after him with a funnel and a sack of corn. I am not sure what else he said as it was all in French, but I don’t think he is very happy.
From what he was gesticulating, I am not sure he has a great mastery of biology, or where they stick the funnel either! ’
‘There was one left in the tank which we missed and he tried to throw it at me,’ Freddie said, ‘and it caught his nose with its claws. There was blood and everything. Very dramatic.’
James stared at the lobster-filled tub. At his new wife. Back at the lobsters. One of them raised a claw in what might have been a salute: it was hard to tell with lobsters.
‘Freddie,’ he said finally, ‘I hate lobster.’
‘Exactly! That’s what makes it funny!’
‘And that’s a cold tub, not my promised hot tub and it’s full of bloody lobsters.’
‘Well, yes. We couldn’t leave it hot. That would have cooked them. And then what would Jean-Francois serve for dinner?’
‘Jean-Francois’s not serving lobster for dinner. I changed the menu. We’re having BBQ.’
There was a brief pause while Freddie processed this information.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well. That’s awkward.’
‘So now I have a cold tub full of stolen lobsters that no one is going to eat.’
‘I suppose we could... release them? Into the lake?’
‘They’re saltwater lobsters, Freddie. The lake is freshwater.’
‘Oh.’ Freddie looked at the lobsters with new concern. ‘Poor things. They’re having a very confusing day.’
Anastasia was laughing. A laugh, genuine and uncontrolled laugh, the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep. James looked at her and his frustration dissolved into a smile.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Well. Champagne by the fire instead?’
‘I think that would be best.’
They turned to go back inside. Freddie followed, still trying to convince James to name individual lobsters. ‘That one looks like a Gerald. Don’t you think? Something about the claws.’)
‘What are we going to do with them?’ Rupert asked, looking at the tub full of very expensive shellfish.
‘Give them back to Jean-Francois, I suppose,’ Archie said. ‘He can serve them another day. If he’s not too angry.’
‘He’s definitely too angry.’
‘Then we’ll just have to wait until he calms down.’
‘Jean-Francois doesn’t calm down. He simmers.’
‘Appropriate for a chef.’
???
Viktor had moved to another window as soon as he heard the commotion and realised the plan had failed and watched the newlyweds retreat inside, laughing, completely unaware of how close they had just come to death.
Lobsters. They had filled the hot tub with lobsters.
He had spent hours on that plan. The research into water temperatures. The careful modification of the heating system. The timing, calculated to the minute. And it had been defeated by lobsters.
Viktor’s hand tightened on the windowsill until his knuckles went white.
No matter, this is why you had backups. That was the training, be prepared for anything.
Though he had not admittedly been prepared for lobsters.
But James’s idiot friends couldn’t protect him forever. Sooner or later, one of the attempts would succeed. It was simple mathematics. Eventually, the odds would fall Viktor’s way.
He turned away from the window and went downstairs to join the drinks reception. Viktor permitted himself a small, cold smile.
The day was young and he had plenty of other options.
???
In the library, by the fire, James poured champagne into two glasses and handed one to Anastasia.
‘I’m sorry about the hot tub,’ he said. ‘I really did have a whole romantic thing planned. Champagne in the water, snow falling around us, just the two of us before the chaos of the reception...’
‘This is better,’ Anastasia said and meant it.
She curled into the sofa beside him, the fire crackling, champagne cold in her hand. Through the window, she could see the snow still falling, the grounds turning white, the world becoming something soft and quiet.
She was worried about when Viktor would strike, but for now, just for this moment, she let herself relax. The fire was warm. The champagne was excellent. Her husband was beside her, happy and alive and completely oblivious to the danger he’d just escaped.
‘Happy?’ James asked.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Very.’
‘Even without the hot tub?’
‘Especially without the hot tub.’ She clinked her glass against his. ‘To lobsters.’
‘To lobsters,’ James agreed, laughing. ‘The unexpected heroes of our wedding day.’
He had no idea how right he was.
Somewhere in the house, a bell rang: the signal that guests were gathering for the drinks reception. The day was moving on. There were photographs to take, hands to shake, a wedding breakfast to attend.
And for Viktor, more attempts to make.