The Troika Dolls - Miranda Darling [163]
‘Always facing out. Old habits die hard.’
Stevie headed for the exit but they had forgotten the helicopter, crouched like a scorpion on the snow. Stevie slowly circled the car park, headlights off.
‘This car’s not bulletproof is it?’
‘No, Stevie, afraid not. It’s not usually required in my line of work.’
They saw Dragoman and his shadow racing out of the entrance. Dragoman was stumbling, holding his eyes, his shadow holding him by the arm. They were heading for the helicopter, circling around behind it so the pilot could not see them.
The shadow reached the machine, wrenched the door open and shot the pilot in the face. Tossing the body aside, he shoved Dragoman into the chopper and leapt to the controls. The helicopter lurched wildly then righted itself. The rotor blades spun faster as it began to leave the ground.
Orlikov appeared, covered in blood, and began to run for the helicopter. A sudden burst of machine-gun fire exploded into the top of his head. He crumpled.
‘I think it’s high time we left.’ Stevie, shaking with adrenaline, put her foot on the accelerator and drove straight for the helicopter.
It cleared the car by inches, the Jaguar roaring through the gates at high speed, the snow whipping up around them in the rotor wind.
Stevie looked up as they passed. The shadow was staring right at her—for a split second their eyes met—and then the helicopter was gone into the night and their car was a hundred metres down the icy road.
17
Pale light had begun to creep into the valley. It was day break. The road circled down the mountain, the sanatorium growing ever so slowly smaller on the other side of the ravine.
Stevie turned the heating up on full, poor Anya was shivering like a lake in the back seat.
‘Are you alright?’ Stevie asked.
Henning turned around and spoke to Anya quietly, holding her frozen hand, coaxing her. It would help that he was a familiar face, she thought. Mostly though, Anya would be in shock. Stevie had seen it before. One never knew how long the kidnap victim would take to recover: sometimes weeks, sometimes years, sometimes never. They could at least be thankful that Anya appeared unhurt.
Stevie concentrated on speeding down the winding mountain road. She was beginning to feel lightly euphoric, the adrenaline of terror wearing off, the happiness of having rescued the girl kicking in. They were driving, she was sure, towards a happy ending. That didn’t happen often now, did it? Not often enough.
‘Stevie,’ Henning’s voice was full of alarm. ‘Anya says there were two other girls with her.’
The cold crept back into her heart. ‘What?’
‘In the sanatorium, held captive with Anya.’
‘Dasha and Ludmilla,’ Anya said, her voice quivering. ‘They never told me their last names. Yesterday, the man told them they were going to be a gift to a fighter from Sudan who was buying lots of his guns.’
Stevie was speechless as the horror sank in.
Then came the sound of sirens in the distance.
‘The Swiss police!’ She almost shouted with sheer relief. ‘They must have heard the explosions.’
‘They’ll find the girls,’ she told Anya reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Anya, my love, they’ll be—’
She was cut short by the young girl’s gasp and spun to follow her gaze.
The west wing of the sanatorium was clearly visible from the road now, although they were below it and on the other side of the ravine. Two tiny figures, one in a bright pink top, the other in canary yellow, were standing up on the balustrade of a stone balcony. They were holding hands.
‘Nyet!’ Anya screamed.
Like tiny blossoms from a tree the two bodies fell, so slowly it seemed, through the air until they disappeared from view, lost in the ravine.
For kilometres, no one in the car could speak.
Anya was the first to break the long silence with her low whisper. ‘Ludmilla was always saying she would rather die.’ Tears were rolling out of her eyes like marbles now. ‘They promised each other they would stick together, no matter what.’
Stevie’s eyes were fixed to the icy road but her mind replayed the falling