The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [113]
And suddenly it became utterly clear.
From under the snow, she dialled David Rice in London. Her fingers were trembling.
‘Stevie Duveen.’ The way David said her name always made it sound like an affirmation that she existed. ‘I hear you saved the Hammer-Belle bacon up in St Moritz. Well done.’
‘David, they were never in any danger.’
‘It didn’t sound like that from Dovetail’s report: attempted kidnapping.’
‘The man wasn’t a kidnapper.’ Stevie tried to keep her voice calm. ‘He was an assassin—’
‘Why would the Romanians want to kill the Hammer-Belles?’ Rice asked, the pleasure gone from his voice.
‘He was Russian, name: Lazarev—ex-KGB.’ Stevie took a breath and let it out slowly. ‘He wasn’t after Sandy, he was after me.’
‘What?!’
Stevie heard his paces echoing on a marble floor—most likely the foyer in his club.
‘David, someone got Kozkov tonight—he’s dead. I think the same people are after me. My guess is they think I know something I don’t: the names of the members of the siloviki. Kozkov had compiled a secret list. He was going to use it to get Anya back. The attacker who was shot in the leg this afternoon died in custody. Sounds like poison—death by respiratory failure, blue-tinged skin—the venom of the Heloderma suspectum, or Gila monster, would match the symptoms. It makes sense.’
‘Hell,’ David cursed. ‘Stevie, get down from those mountains immediately. I want you in London and safely behind a desk.’
Stevie bit her lip. ‘I don’t think I can, David. I can’t stop thinking of Anya. How can I abandon her? With Kozkov dead—’ ‘I don’t care!’ Rice’s fury could be felt through the phone. ‘It is not your job. This is exactly why I didn’t want you getting mixed up in the Kozkov affair. You’ll get yourself killed, you stupid girl.’
Stevie’s boss paused; when he spoke again his voice was calmer. ‘Is that Henning with you?’ he demanded.
‘No. I think he’s in Moscow.’ Stevie suddenly missed her friend terribly. ‘It’s not his fault,’ she whispered.
‘It damn well is. I’m going to tear that man to pieces. There’s a chopper taking the Hammer-Belles to London tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be on it, Stevie.’
The line went dead. Stevie felt suddenly very alone. It was cold and dark in the snow. Exhaustion overwhelmed her and she fought back tears. She had to get out of the pit.
Practical concerns required she start digging some steps into the side of the snow hole with her boot. It took some effort and was a welcome distraction. Finally, she managed to drag herself free.
Muffled music was coming from the chalet behind her and the lights looked warm and inviting. Stevie’s eyes glanced over the balcony, but Joss and the girl had gone. She set off for the front door, allowing the prickling on her neck to turn to fear as she thought of Lazarev. It fitted with what Stevie knew of the mysterious siloviki and their fearsome reputation for getting things done.
An ex-KGB officer would also have access to unusual weaponry and poisons. And Stevie was now certain it had been Lazarev who had rifled through her room at the Suvretta House. It was also unlikely that he had been acting alone. Others would certainly come.
Stevie had narrowly escaped the horrific death that had been planned for her. Would she be as fortunate next time?
By tomorrow night, she would be in London. But would it be soon enough? And could she just give up on Anya? She had never heard David Rice so angry, but should she simply leave a young girl to die? Stevie felt torn between impossibilities.
Inside the chalet, the party was raging, with dancing girls perched on sofas and coffee tables. Stevie needed information. Where was the young fawn?
She caught sight of her by the DJ booth, dancing in hotpants, knee-high boots and a large cowboy hat, one eye firmly on Douglas Hammer across the room. Her top seemed to have been lost in the fray, along with Joss Carey.
Stevie advanced, refusing to be put off by beautiful undulating bodies, and blocked her into a corner.
‘I’ll make you a deal, my kitten,’ Stevie said to her in Russian. The girl tried to push