The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [160]
The Steinbock Room was Heini’s, and there was Sogol, standing at the door like a ginger bear, smoking a cigarette with his thumb and forefinger and picking his nose.
Stevie trundled towards him, a paper mask over her nose and mouth. She was counting on Sogol being as incurious as he looked. She could see the outline of a handgun under his jogging suit.
Sogol was expecting the nurse. He opened the door without a word and followed Stevie in, locking it behind him. He moved further into the room and then unlocked the bathroom door. He had, Stevie noted, left the key in the lock.
Anya was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, still in her velvet dress, shivering. Her eyes flashed with fear when the door opened, but Stevie was relieved to see that if Anya did recognise her eyes over the paper mask she gave no indication.
Stevie uncovered her metal tray and began to prepare the syringe. Fortunately she had once taken care of a diabetic dog who needed insulin and so had become quite proficient at giving injections.
When Anya saw the needle she screamed and cowered further into the corner, shaking.
Sogol grunted. He thought it was funny.
Stevie turned to him. ‘I will need your assistance. Please hold the girl.’
Sogol went over and grabbed Anya’s arms, holding her still. Tears were pouring down the girl’s face.
Stevie uncapped the needle on the syringe and moved towards her. She took hold of Anya’s arm and carefully swabbed the fragile limb with alcohol. Then she gave the syringe a good flick and pressed the plunger a millimetre to make sure there were no air bubbles.
‘Please, stay very—’
Stevie’s hand moved like a wasp, the syringe jabbing Sogol right in the jugular vein like a vicious slap. She jammed the plunger down then ripped Anya from his surprised hands. Before Sogol could react, she had pushed the prisoner out of the bathroom door, sprinted out behind her, then locked it, kicking the key under the bed.
She heard Sogol roar and rush at the door, another crash against it—would it hold?—then a thunderous thud on the floor. The barbarian was out for the count.
Stevie ripped off her paper mask.
‘Run with me. We have no time.’
They pelted down the corridor, Anya barefoot, her evening dress ripped almost in two, Stevie dragging her by the wrist.
They reached the boot room on the ground floor, dark and empty at this time of night. Stevie dialled Henning.
‘Darling!’ she said in a loud voice. ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘Just having a quiet chat with the boys, sweetie.’ She knew he must still be with Heini and Dragoman. She would have to be careful.
‘It’s almost three!’ she protested loudly in case anyone could hear her end of the conversation through Henning’s phone. Then she whispered, ‘I’ve got her.’
‘I won’t be much longer, darling,’ Henning reassured her. ‘I hope you’re tucked up in bed.’
‘Boot room,’ Stevie whispered, then louder, ‘Where else would I be?! Car keys.’ Stevie needed to help Henning find an excuse to get away from the men. ‘I can’t sleep,’ she whined into the phone. ‘I need a pill.’
Henning sighed in exasperation. ‘Alright, my beauty. I’ll be right over with a nice sleepy cocktail for you.’
Stevie and Anya crouched in the darkness, their little hearts racing too fast to speak to each other.
A muffled thud-thud-thud seemed to come through the walls. At first Stevie thought it was her heart—or maybe Anya’s—then she realised it was the sound of chopper blades.
Who was landing in the pre-dawn, in the car park?
The door burst open and Henning raced in. He had the car keys in his hand. The three of them ran through the boot room and out of the external door.
Now they were in the frozen car park. They could see the helicopter hovering a few metres off the ground.
‘Maybe it’s guests arriving late . . .’ panted Stevie hopefully.
‘Then why don’t they have their lights on?’ Henning was right. The helicopter was not shining its landing lights. If it hadn’t been for the thunderous noise it might have gone