She forced a smile, made it look genuine. “Try not to look like you missed me.”
He came over, a briefcase in one hand, laid it down, and kissed her forehead gently. “I did.”
She handed him his champagne. He emptied it in one swallow, put down the crystal. “I wish I could stay but I only came back for some papers. Duty calls.”
“What duty?”
“Some work I have to finish at the club. Why don’t you relax and watch a movie? I’ll be back after midnight. We can have supper, more champagne.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, smelling the faint scent of his aftershave as her lips brushed his. He seemed distracted as usual, and when he drew back she looked into his eyes.
“You’re okay?”
He kissed her forehead lightly. “Just tired. Too much work. I need to get something from the safe before I go.”
He moved over to the dressing room, stopped in the doorway. “By the way, I have some family business to attend to tomorrow night.”
“You want me to stay in my own place?”
A faint smile. “I knew you’d understand.”
• • •
Five minutes later Shavik was gone.
Angel watched from the window as the tinted-window Mercedes drove out the front gates. The house sounded silent. No one home except the household staff, a Puerto Rican maid and her husband, the chef.
Angel made sure the bedroom door was closed, then took her Toshiba notebook from her bag as well as a notepad and ballpoint pen.
She stepped into Shavik’s walk-in dressing room.
The walls were covered in rich, ruby mahogany. Rails of suits, shirts, and casual clothes, neatly stored sweaters, racks of ties. A long mirror and chair.
She pulled apart a rail of suits, to reveal a mahogany panel.
A row of light switches nearby. One of the switches was false: she depressed the bottom right corner twice and the mahogany panel whirred open to reveal a wall safe.
Next, she positioned the chair under the smoke alarm in the ceiling.
She stood on the chair.
Yesterday, she replaced the smoke alarm with another just like it—except hers had a pinhead spy camera inside, pointed at the wall safe. She would replace the original when she finished.
For now, she twisted the alarm casing off the ceiling receiver, stepped down, and plugged a connector between the video camera and her Toshiba.
The video file downloaded.
She fast-forwarded, saw flickering images.
Shavik was onscreen now, his fingers punching the safe keypad. She slowed down the frame speed, observed each inputted number, and wrote them on her pad.
6
4
8
0
1
She unplugged the smoke alarm from the Toshiba.
She crossed to the safe. With shaking fingers, she carefully entered the numbers on the keypad. 764801. She touched the pound sign with a lacquered red nail.
A whirring sound erupted and the safe’s door sprang open.
Inside was a stack of money and a thick ledger.
“Find everything you’re looking for, sweetheart?”
Angel spun round, fear alive in her eyes.
Standing in the doorway was Arkov. Next to him Billy Davix, a weasel grin on his face.
Arkov lunged across the room and grabbed her savagely by the hair.
“Smart one, aren’t you? Never underestimate a woman, I always say. But we’ve been watching you. What are you up to? Answer me, before I break something.”
His face was screwed up with rage, holding back a balled fist, ready to strike.
Billy gave a hyena laugh, as if relishing what was about to come.
“You can go to hell.” Angel’s heart jackhammered against her chest but she stared defiantly at Arkov.
“Who do you work for?”
She spat in Arkov’s face.
He lost it then, rage erupting in him. He drew back his fist and punched her face, and there was a sickening noise like bone splintering before Angel passed out.