The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [149]
‘With these twenty-four-hour news channels, the footage is sure to be repeated.’
They kept the television on in the background in case and rang the sanatorium dining room for some supper. Things in the kitchen were running like cuckoo clockwork, despite the bullets and the collapse of the roof. Henning ordered a Café de Paris steak with pommes frites; for Fräulein Duveen, the chef would prepare sustenance in accordance with the green menu.
When pressed, the kitchen staff revealed that the green menu tonight consisted of a large bowl of blood soup. For dessert there was a bitter beetroot and bran pudding, steamed, then peppered with candied peel. Stevie was not amused.
‘Sounds delightful.’ Henning had cheered up considerably at the idea of Stevie being faced with blood soup. ‘Oh, and you had better make that two sides of frites—I’m rather hungry.’ He hung up and grinned at Stevie.
‘I can’t wait, can you?’
‘Dreadful man.’
Henning shook his head at her. ‘I risked quite a lot ordering you contraband frites.’
‘You only ordered extra because you knew I would eat yours if you didn’t.’
The funeral began to replay on the television screen as they sat down to eat. The camera panned the room and Stevie pointed: ‘Him.’
Henning paused in thought before turning to Stevie. ‘Nikita Romanovitch Orlikov.’
Stevie stopped, the silver soup dome in mid air. Her blood chilled.
‘Is that what he looks like?’ she whispered. ‘I could never find a picture.’
‘He never lets himself be photographed. I’m surprised he is on camera at the funeral.’
Nikita Orlikov was the ex-head of the FSB, the Russian security service. He had been in the KGB at the same time as the current president, during the Cold War days, and had acquired a fearsome reputation as an utterly cold, utterly ruthless man. The service had trained him well. No one knew exactly what his official role was now, but he was certainly still active as an advisor to the new head of the FSB, as well as the president.
‘Well,’ she said finally, ‘Dragoman obviously recognised him, not that that means much—you recognised him, too.’ She took a large sip of her whisky and looked at Henning. ‘It is a terrifying thought, isn’t it? The two of them in cahoots of any kind.’
‘Quite,’ he agreed. ‘I suppose Orlikov would know about the links between Dragoman and the siloviki; Orlikov may even be one of them.’
‘It’s frighteningly likely. He could have had Kozkov killed in a heartbeat—that list would be motive enough.’ Stevie pushed her soup aside and ran her good hand through her hair. ‘The new FSB remit seems to include consolidation and protection of political and economic power in the hands of the current government. Your friend Maxim Krutchick believes the spike in high-profile assassinations make it likely they are using more extreme tactics to get what they want.’
Henning nodded. ‘And Dragoman might now be getting nervous that he has become a loose end to be tied.’
‘Mmm,’ Stevie said, ‘exactly,’ and began eating Henning’s fried potatoes one at a time with a silver dessert fork. ‘It would explain why he got so angry when Orlikov’s face appeared on screen.’ She looked up. ‘The thing these potatoes really need is—’
Henning already had a bottle of champagne in his hand.
‘Mind reader.’ Stevie grinned as the cork popped softly.
16
Anya had stopped caring where she was, some castle, some mansion, some place, still unfound. She had also stopped eating and she was growing thinner. It was as if, subconsciously, she were trying to leave her imprisoned body and, light as air, fly back home. She lived hour by hour, thanking God for Ludmilla and Dasha.
Largely, the three girls had been ignored. But something had changed in the last few days and their captors had become tense, on edge, furious at the slightest thing. It was terrifying.
Ludmilla kept saying they were going to be killed. Anya found her brain couldn’t really process the idea of being killed. She couldn’t imagine it. All she knew was life, and bad as it was right now, she couldn’t imagine it ending.
The girls were kept in a small