Chapter Eighteen
Working in tourism with wealthy clients had given Sarah plenty of opportunities to rub shoulders with the rich and famous. However, nothing could’ve prepared her for tonight’s party at Orlov’s. Especially as she, Dylan, and Joseph now stood outside his medieval-looking door, about to gate-crash his eerie, secluded gothic mansion – which felt about as inviting as a haunted house of horrors.
Orlov had actually invited Dylan to this soiree last week, but he’d initially declined, thinking he didn’t want to get too chummy with the husband of the woman he was screwing. But now everything had changed, and the timing of this party couldn’t be better – they needed to get that piece of blueprint and destroy it before it was too late.
Dylan tugged at the tasselled rope hanging from the granite porch, which made the doorbell clang. Sarah held his hand tight, trying to stave off her nerves. She glanced at Joseph… The three of them were keen to stick together, but they all knew his role here tonight. Orlov’s mother – Anna – was a shrewd powerful alcoholic with a penchant for handsome young men. It was well-known that years ago she’d been involved with the KGB and Russian mafia, and she’d raised her son with the same hardened love for corruption. Her husband had disappeared in mysterious circumstances about five years ago, and nowadays she ran casinos and nightclubs in London and Moscow – and she was always in the company of boy toys. One of the nastier British tabloids had infiltrated a sex party at one of her London casinos last year, where she’d been embroiled in an orgy with wealthy clients and eighteen-year-old prostitutes of both sexes. Shortly after that, she’d been arrested for trafficking young Russian women to work in the UK as lap-dancers, but – unsurprisingly – all charges had been dropped for reasons unexplained. Sarah desperately hoped they’d be able to find that blueprint this evening, because she was reluctant for this Russian family to have an even stronger hold over the UK courts than they already had.
Joseph looked happy
and relaxed after yesterday’s reunion with Ivan, but Sarah knew he was probably feeling apprehensive about having to seek out and seduce Mrs Orlov in the hope of getting information from her. Sarah knew he’d have no trouble charming her – he looked devilishly handsome in his tux – but at almost-twenty Sarah feared he might be a little too old for Anna. But he’d have to do. It was that or Sarah would have to cozy-up with Orlov, and there was no way she wanted to do that. And Dylan wouldn’t allow it anyway – not even in the interest of world peace and national security.
Sarah stood tall, feeling glamorous in her designer dress. She’d enjoyed a shopping trip with Amy earlier, and they’d bonded while having their hair and nails done. Sarah knew she looked the part, but she hoped her nerves wouldn’t let her down. It was a simple plan: Dylan was going to keep Orlov talking while Joseph extracted the info from Anna, then Sarah and Joseph would use the info to find the blueprint. It was a terrible plan, but unfortunately a better one wasn’t forthcoming at the moment.
An idea suddenly struck Sarah as they stood on the stone doorstep. “Dylan, Mikhail said the blueprint is safe?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “Why?”
“I wonder if he meant, it’s in a safe. You know, like a safe.”
Dylan grinned. “My genius girl.”
Sarah opened her mouth to reply, but an elderly butler dressed in a tailcoat opened the front door. “Yes?”
“Hi, we’re here for the party,” Dylan said. “Dylan Quinlan. Orlov invited me. Right?”
The butler stepped aside. “Of course, sir. Do come in.”
The hallway was like a cathedral, with its ornate stone walls, engraved ceiling, and lavish spiral staircase leading to who-knew-where. Sarah realised that all those Russian businesses Orlov had conned back in Moscow had made him a very wealthy man.
“Come this way please,” the butler said, practically bowing as he walked. They followed him across the shiny black-and-white checked marble floor, which reminded Sarah of a giant chessboard. She wondered who was going to win the game.
Sarah glanced over at the sound of a stern female Russian voice, and she saw Anna Orlov dressed in an expensive gown and diamonds, barking out orders to a couple of terrified waiters. Anna was gripping a lit cigarette in her long manicured fingers, and – as she turned her head to take a drag – her gaze fell upon Joseph, then lingered over his fit body.
“She’s spotted you already,” Sarah whispered. “Act cool.”
Joseph glanced over and threw Anna a trademark Quinlan smile, which would’ve melted even Sarah’s resolve had she been on the receiving end of it. Anna didn’t flinch – maintaining a hard expression. But Sarah knew she’d noticed Joseph, and that was good enough for now.
Dylan squeezed Sarah’s fingers gently in his own, as the butler led them through an engraved oak door and into the huge reception room where a hundred other smartly-dressed people were gathered. An eerie silence hit Sarah as they entered, and she suddenly felt afraid. Wasn’t this supposed to be a party? Had they been set up? The checkerboard floor motif continued through here and Sarah felt compelled not to stand on any of the lines between the squares in case they absorbed her. This room was like a museum, with expensive artefacts and a massive chandelier hanging from the decorative ceiling. Sarah steeled herself, trying not to feel as if she was an antelope in the lion’s den at feeding time.
She spotted Orlov standing with a group of other stern-looking Russian men, and she suddenly realised that he was in the middle of addressing the entire room, making a speech to his captivated guests – hence the silence. She exhaled. The butler offered her, Dylan, and Joseph a drink from a tray of Champagne glasses, then he retreated.
Sarah sipped her Champagne and listened to Orlov’s smooth Russian voice. “…And of course, I will not rest until justice has been done. It is with a heavy heart that I ask you now to raise a glass for my dearest love, Natalia. May she rest in peace.”
“To Natalia,” came the toasts from his guests.
“To Natalia,” Dylan said loudly, holding aloft his Champagne glass and leaning coolly against the doorframe.
Orlov’s face flashed with angry panic, then he composed himself. “Ah, Dylan Quinlan has decided to visit my humble home!”
Orlov drifted over to greet them as the other guests started to chat amongst themselves. The string quartet in the corner of the room struck up a gentle waltz, which calmed Sarah’s nerves slightly. She sipped her Champagne and tried to focus her racing thoughts.
Orlov greeted Dylan with a self-assured smile and they shook hands.
“And who have you brought with you?” Orlov asked, scrutinising Sarah with a salacious glance – which wasn’t entirely appropriate for a man who was so devastated about the death of his beloved Natalia.
“This is Sarah,” Dylan said. “My… um, wife.”
Dylan threw Sarah a sheepish grin. But actually, she felt quite proud to be introduced like that.