Vision Impossible (33 page)

Maks squeezed my knee and got up from the bed. “When you’ve unpacked, come downstairs and join us. We’ll be dining early this evening.”

He turned to go and I called him back. “Do you know what room Rick and Mandy are in?”

Maks frowned. “Yes,” he said, offering me no further information.

“I’d like to talk to my business partner alone,” I told him. “Just to make sure he’s okay.”

Maks shook his head and came back into the room to stand in front of me. Using two fingers, he lifted my chin and stared soberly into my eyes. “Richard is no longer your business partner, Abigail. As I said on the plane, I worry that there is a good chance he will not leave here alive, and it’s best if you accept that and keep well away from him for the duration of your stay here. In fact, I’m afraid I must insist on it.”

“And if I refuse?”

Maks let go of my chin and stepped back with a sad-sounding sigh. “I will have no choice but to reveal to Boklovich that you know the password to the software program Rick carries. It will mean certain death for Rick, but I may still be able to bargain for your life.”

I could feel all the good humor of three minutes before wash right out of me. “
Why
would you do that, Maks?”

“Because I believe you could be a valuable asset, Abigail, and you and I could make a great deal of money together. Your business ventures with Rick will only get you killed, and I won’t stand by and allow such a talented young woman with so much potential to be brought down by a lowlife like Richard Des Vries.”

I couldn’t think of a word to say in response, and Maks didn’t seem to want to hear one anyway, because he turned on his heel and walked quietly out the door, leaving me alone, separated from Dutch and certainly doomed to watch him die.

I
spent my time at dinner moodily pushing the food around on my plate while Dutch, Maks, and Boklovich talked in Russian. Mandy sat shivering in the chair next to Dutch, hardly touching any of her dinner—as per her normal skimpy caloric intake—and obviously feeling the cold of the chilly interior.

Boklovich must have noticed her discomfort because he switched to English and said, “Tomorrow the weather be better, you see.”

Her brow crinkled. “Huh?” she said.

“A vwarm front coming in,” he said, shoving a big spongy roll into his gap.

“Oh,” she said timidly. “That’s nice.”

Boklovich nodded like he agreed. “Good for guests,” he added, after swallowing down his roll. “Most of them from vwarm climate.”

I tried to catch Dutch’s eye, but he was wearing his sunglasses and I couldn’t see behind the dark lenses. My great idea to help disguise him was proving to be a hindrance to our unspoken communication.

I’d thought earlier about sneaking him a note, but in the whole of the room I couldn’t find a single pen, and the only pen I carried wasn’t actually a functioning pen. Also, Grinkov was keeping a very close eye on me, and my stomach turned when I considered that at the end of the evening he and I would be faced with the night ahead in the same room together . . . and one bed.

I didn’t quite know how I was going to get out of actually going to bed with him, and I was feeling incredibly boxed in and close to panic.

I remembered what Mandy had told me about Grinkov finding his wife in a compromising position with another man, and how Maks had gone about killing both of them. The thought made me sick. I also remembered his brutality against Dutch, and I really didn’t care that he truly believed Dutch was Des Vries. The man was a thug, and I had little doubt, based on all of that and the fact that he’d hit me hard enough over the head to knock me out, that if he wanted his way with me, he’d darn well have it.

I shuddered involuntarily in my chair. “Are you cold?” Maks asked, leaning in to consider me with those smoldering hazel eyes. “I’m fine,” I said curtly.

Boklovich’s gaze shifted to me, as if he detected the small change in the atmosphere at the end of the table. “Tell me, Miss Carter,” he boomed. “Where you and Maksy meet?”

I took a sip of water before answering. “At a poker game, Mr. Boklovich.”

This seemed to surprise our host and he looked at Maks with great humor. “Who won game?” he asked, his attempt at English making him sound more and more like a caveman.

“She did,” Maks said, smiling too.

Boklovich laughed and thumped the table hard enough to rattle the china. “Tomorrow we all play poker!” he announced. “And we dance too. Must have dancing!”

I eyed the fat Russian at the end of the table, and considered that he might be very drunk.

At that moment there was some noise from the front hall and Boklovich excused himself. I gathered that some of the invited guests had arrived. I also wondered if the drone and its thief were here yet.

I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on that, and sure enough I felt positive that both were here at the estate, but my concentration on the thief was interrupted when Maks leaned over and said, “Tomorrow afternoon Vasilii will be hosting a party for all his guests before the auction. I hope you brought a party dress?”

I opened my eyes and blinked. “Uh . . . no,” I told him.

Maks smiled. “No worries. I will send Eddington by plane to Victoria to select something for you.”

I saw an opening there to make contact with Frost and tell him what was happening here and I jumped at it. “Can’t I just go to Victoria and find something suitable?” Maks seemed to study my reaction carefully. “I mean,” I added quickly, “sometimes I’m a four and sometimes I’m a six. It just depends on the designer, so I’d like to try on a few things to find the perfect dress.”

“I will arrange a selection,” he said easily, which let me know that I wasn’t about to be allowed off the estate until after the auction.

“Oh,” I said. “Okay.”

Boklovich joined us again and he seemed even more jovial. I had a sneaking suspicion that the thief had just arrived, and hoped he’d be shown in for dinner so I could scope him out. “Forgive interruption,” Vasilii said to us, taking his seat again and going right for his wineglass. “Guests coming all day and night.”

“Will they be joining us?” Dutch asked.

But Boklovich shook his head. “Long trip,” he said. “Dey vill rest and join us tomorrow.”

When everyone was distracted, I stared hard at Dutch and thought I’d caught his eye. I made sure to look meaningfully at him and scooted my chair back. “I think I’d like to get some air!” I said, standing and giving a slight bow to Boklovich. “Is it all right, sir, if I take a stroll through your garden?”

Boklovich was slightly taken aback, but he quickly recovered.
“Da, da,”
he said, waving his hand at me to go ahead. “But stay where guards can see you.”

Smiling tightly at Maks, who leveled his eyes in warning, I hurried out of the room, praying that Dutch would get the hint and find a way to follow me.

I reached the French doors that led to the backyard and hurried outside. The temperature startled me. It was noticeably warmer than when we’d landed that afternoon. Well, Boklovich had mentioned that a warm front was moving through. Too bad his house was taking its sweet time to heat up.

I moved over to one of the terraces overlooking a series of small ponds that each fed into another, and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. Dutch did not appear.

“Crap on a cracker,” I muttered. I’d come out here for nothing. Finally I decided to get a grip and focus on the mission. I had to find the drone. I closed my eyes again and concentrated, and when I opened them, I began making my way down the steps to the garden and over to a section where several guards were focused on putting something together.

I approached cautiously and to my amazement I realized that they were putting together the drone itself!

It was much smaller than I’d considered, about three and a half feet long and in several parts that needed to be fitted together, but all the pieces seemed to be there, including a small black box, which I was sure contained Intuit.

One of the men looked up then and saw me standing there staring. He barked something in Russian and I knew I needed to move away.

“Sorry!” I said, holding up my hands and making a hasty retreat.

I found my way over to a quiet corner of the garden and looked around for Dutch again, but if he’d come out, he was nowhere to be seen.

I thought about going back inside, but I knew I was pretty anxious from the discovery of the drone and what Maks had told me about Dutch not being allowed to leave alive after the auction, so he and I would need to somehow recover Intuit and then get the heck outta there. I considered that if there was some big shindig that would take place the following night, that might be the best time to make our exit, and I knew that going out the front wasn’t an option for us.

I moved out of the corner and began taking surreptitious looks around. Switching on my radar, I spoke directly to my own spirit guides, known collectively as “the crew.” “Okay, crew, I need you right now more than ever. Find a weak spot in this defense system that Dutch and I can exploit to get our butts out of here.”

Immediately I felt a tug on my solar plexus that pulled me over to the left.

Moving to the central garden, which was to the left of where the guards were still fiddling with the drone, I walked as casually as possible, trying to give off the appearance that I was simply out for an after-dinner stroll.

The tug on my middle continued, even though I knew I was getting closer and closer to the back wall. I passed another guard and his dog, and I smiled at him and said that it was a lovely evening.

He gave me a gruff smile and continued on without commenting. Obviously he didn’t consider me a flight risk or a threat. Good.

Moving a little more cautiously now, I hedged my way nearer a section of the wall almost completely covered in ivy, and next to that was a small garden shack with the door slightly ajar and several gardeners’ tools poking out. I moved to pass the ivy, but that visceral tug yanked me back, and I paused to consider the thick tangle of vines.

As I squinted at it, I realized that poking through the greenery were rusty iron bars. My crew sent a little note of warning to my head, and I quickly retreated from the rusted gate over to a low bench, sat down, and waited. Not a moment after I’d taken my seat, one of the guards walked by and took note of me as I sat casually and stared up, pretending to take in the lovely pink and purple early-evening sky.

The minute the guard was on his way again, I hedged back to the gate and pulled at the vines to get a better look. The bars were quite old, and the black paint coating them was peeling off in thin layers all around. The latch was secured by an old iron padlock, also coated in rust but still formidable. Through the bars on the other side of the wall I could see dense vegetation. I squinted in the dim light, and wondered if we’d be able to make our way through it to escape.

My radar gave another warning and I backed quickly away from the gate. Rubbing my hands together furiously to clear them of the dirt and rust debris, I moved at a trot until I found one of the pathways, then slowed my pace and walked calmly along as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Someone was approaching me, but the light was fading and I didn’t see who it was until he was quite close and I could see the slight limp and the walking stick that accompanied it. “Hello, Mr. Eddington,” I said.

“Ms. Carter,” he replied, stopping in front of me. “Mr. Grinkov is wondering if you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. I was just out for a stroll.”

Eddington seemed uncomfortable. He was a bit twitchy and jumpy, and I could only imagine that being in the den of so many lions was making us all a bit nervous. “He would like to see you,” the butler said.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes, ma’am. He is waiting for you in your room.”

Gulp.

I smiled tightly at him and said, “Thank you for telling me, Mr. Eddington. I’ll be right up.”

The butler returned my smile and seemed about to say something else to me, but a guard came close to us and he seemed to think better of it. Eddington then swiveled round to leave me when I thought of something and called him back. “Mr. Eddington?”

The butler stiffened. “Yes?”

“Do you know which room Mr. Des Vries and Miss Mortemeyer are staying in?”

Eddington looked over his shoulder, his face curious. “Yes, ma’am.”

I hurried up to him and took his free arm as if he was my new best friend. “Would you please show it to me?” The butler seemed to hesitate, likely suspecting that his boss might not approve, so I held up my purse and said, “Mandy had mentioned needing an extra tampon, and I’ve got a supply in my purse.”

Maks’s butler turned such a bright shade of red he was nearly purple, and I could have laughed. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, of course, ma’am. Right this way.”