The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [102]
Tents for the horses and spectator marquees were already humming with organisers, grooms, sponsors and security. The excitement, always high during the four-day tournament, was at its most feverish.
The day was grey and icy but completely still. Stevie had dressed in her leather trousers and she was grateful for their warmth.
The spectators began to arrive, some in their own cars, the more important ones in chauffeured Maybach limousines. Standing by the field, Stevie pulled out her mini-binoculars—always useful for impromptu safaris, or the opera—and scanned the faces. Growing cold, she decided to walk the venue, glad for the chance to get her bearings before the crowds arrived.
There was only one exit for vehicles and that was manned by the Kantonspolizei. The venue was open but largely inaccessible due to the vast frozen lake it sat on. Any approach was very clearly visible and would draw attention.
If anything were being planned, she guessed it would happen in amongst the crowds. This would prevent the police or security
from firing a gun or getting a clear view. The most dangerous time was during arrival and departure, when arrangements were in flux.
As the couple was arriving by helicopter, straight onto the grounds, Stevie guessed it was more likely that an attempt would be made on departure. She would make sure Dovetail had confirmed independent transport to Yudorov’s chalet. The chauffeured limousines were a security risk.
Stevie stood and watched for a moment as the polo ponies in their heavy blankets were led around by grooms in thick jackets, hats and scarves. It must feel fantastic to gallop through the snow, she thought, a bit like riding in the soft sand.
At ten past ten the heavy thudding of rotor blades up the valley announced the arrival of the Hammer-Belles. The helicopter hovered over the car park, the downdraft creating a blizzard of snow and freezing air that blasted the waiting press that had gathered like flies behind the security cordon. Stevie shielded her eyes.
Out jumped Owen Dovetail. Stevie was extremely glad to see him. Nothing bad could happen when the sturdy Welshman was on the case. He was highly competent, utterly dedicated and she trusted him with her life.
A second man leapt out. He was quite stocky—huge in fact— wearing wraparound sunglasses and head-to-toe camouflage. He looked like an action-man figurine. Stevie assumed this was the Hammer-Belles’ own man. He held up his hand to help Sandy out of the cabin.
The starlet emerged in a starburst of flashbulbs. She was dressed from head to toe in honey colour, from her spike-heeled knee-high boots, to her suede trousers to her swathes of cashmere, her honey-tinted lenses, her honey-coloured tan, even her hair had been dyed a honey shade of blonde. The effect was quite striking.
She waved to the gathered crowds and stepped slowly down from the helicopter, the blades having been stopped in deference to her
expensive coiffure. She stopped and stood waving at the crowds, the photographers. Dovetail stalked the crowds with his eyes, the only pair not looking at Sandy in that moment.
Douglas Hammer came up and stood beside her. He, too, was glowing with good looks, his skin the same honey colour as Sandy’s, his hair a little blonder, dressed in a long camel overcoat, a chocolate scarf and mirrored sunglasses.
After him alighted the manny, the male nanny Stevie remembered from her first meeting with the couple. He was carrying a large honey-coloured bag lined in fur. Had they left Kennedy-Jack at home? Then why was the manny with them?
Stevie showed the action man the marquee where the Hammer-Belles were to be hosted and he set about opening a corridor in the crowd for his charges to walk through. Although the spectators turned to look, no one mobbed the Hammer-Belles, no one approached them, most turned then went back to the cars or horses moving about the grounds.
So far the security situation appeared to be pretty straightforward.
Stevie approached