The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [122]
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Josie,’ she said sharply. ‘He’s the boss, a family friend, I respect him and—’
‘Well, whatever you want to call it, no one will ever measure up. Isn’t that why your relationships never work out?’
‘You might remember that the last one failed because he was sleeping with another woman,’ she reminded Josie with a snap, hoping to get her off the topic.
‘Ah yes. Joss Carey, artistic phoney. But you pick them that way, subconsciously.’
‘What is this, Josie, therapy hour?’
‘Listen, you want favours from me, deal with it. I’m telling you what you need to hear. No one else will.’
‘Josie, my mind couldn’t be further from thoughts of love,’ Stevie said, lying just a little. ‘And if I was having thoughts, they certainly wouldn’t involve David Rice.’
‘What about this Henning I hear about? Rice is furious with him too . . .’ Josie delighted in the hearts of others and she didn’t bother to hide the curiosity in her voice. ‘Do you want me to run him through the machine?’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Stevie almost yelled, terrified Josie might do just that. ‘I want you to concentrate on finding Dragoman.’
‘Rice will kill us both if he finds out.’
‘Josie, please. I’ll be forever in your debt.’
‘You already owe me—twenty-four hours’ sleep and a lot of butt kissing.’ Josie definitely had a way with words.
‘You found him?’ Stevie asked, hardly daring to believe it.
‘Turns out he is a silent partner with the controlling interest in a number of health resorts stretching from the Bahamas to Hungary. He uses his connections to get hold of often experimental, unapproved pharmaceuticals. Some people apparently are desperate enough to try anything—they’ll take the risk and happily pay through the nose for it.’
‘Where is he now?’ Stevie whispered into the tiny phone.
‘Right now, he’s in Switzerland. He rarely spends more than a couple of nights in one place. He has that many enemies. But he’s going to be at the Verjuengung Klinik, a rejuvenation clinic in Hoffenschaffen, sometime within the next five days. That’s as close as I could get.’
‘You’re brilliant. How many f’s in Hoffenschaffen?’
Josie hissed in frustration. ‘I’ll send it through by text. I don’t have time.’
‘Only you could have done it, Josie—I’m eternally grateful.’
‘Dinner at Nobu would be better, thanks, Stevie. I’ll make reservations when you get back.’ She paused. ‘If you get back.’ The next moment, Josie’s voice lost its hard edge and sarcasm. ‘Stevie, the more I looked, the closer I got, the more dangerous your man became. Don’t provoke him. You won’t live to tell me about it, I can promise you that.’
Stevie felt the bile of fear rise in her throat. She swallowed. ‘You’ve done a marvellous thing. Make those reservations soon, Josie. This will be quick.’
Stevie hoped she sounded braver than she felt. Not that it would fool Josie.
A walking track crossed the ski slope below her. Stevie was about to set off when she heard the soft jingle of bells. A horse-drawn sleigh was approaching. Stevie waited for it to appear. She loved watching the horses plod silently past, their breath in little white puffs—like dragons— their passengers rugged up to the neck in sheepskins, noses bright red.
Hoffenschaffen. Now she knew where Dragoman was, things seemed more possible. And frightening. She only had a few hours left until she was supposed to leave—still time to change her mind, obey David. And yet there was a chance—even if it was a miniscule one—that Anya was with Dragoman. She could be as close as a few hours’ drive . . .
The horses came into view on the track below, both speckled grey and white. The driver was talking to them softly, encouraging them, keeping them company with his voice. There were two children in the sleigh, aged maybe five and seven—Stevie could never really tell ages— in little mittens and hats. She waved with one of her poles.
The older one leaned out and pointed his arm like a rifle. ‘Bang!’ he yelled. ‘Bang! Bang!’
Stevie lowered her pole, suddenly reminded she was still prey.
The fog had rolled in, veiling the