Sarah rubbed her brow. “If only we had some evidence about Natalia’s true motives. Then we could maybe get it to his gang and they’d deal with him. They’re already going to be furious that Orlov let us steal the blueprint.”
Joseph cradled his coffee. “That’s a good idea, Sarah. We just need to stay alive until then.”
Dylan threw his brother a blank look. “We’ll stay together; no one’s killing anyone... I wonder if Mikhail can find us some evidence about Natalia’s involvement with the rebel group. He said if I needed him I should whistle three times…”
Sarah sat up tall. “There’s a café in Kensington called the Three Whistles.”
“I’ve said it before, sweetheart, you’re a genius. And a hot, beautiful one at that.”
She chuckled. “Thank you.”
Dylan held up the blueprint. “Come on, let’s destroy this. Then I’ll go find Mikhail first thing tomorrow morning.”
“How shall we destroy it?” Joseph asked, leaning forward.
Dylan stood up, still holding the piece of plastic that was worth much more than its weight in gold. “Last time we just threw everything in a wastepaper bin and set it alight.” He disappeared into the kitchen, so Sarah and Joseph sat and waited patiently for him to come back. Sarah really had no idea how this was all going to end. But it was more exciting than being at work this evening… She glanced up as Dylan strolled back into the living room, clutching a metal bucket that his housekeeper probably used for mopping the floors. He was also holding a box of matches.
He placed the container on top of the coffee table, dropped in the blueprint, then struck a match and dropped that in, too. Sarah stood and peered into the bucket. The flimsy plastic contents were already warping – alight with blue and orange flames. Black smoke that smelled of burning rubber wafted up in thick spirals. Dylan put his arm around Sarah, and they all watched, hypnotised – checking that the nefarious object was definitely gone. And then, when it was just a pile of cinders, Dylan grabbed his phone.
“Hey, Ivan,” he said in a reverential voice. “Mission accomplished… Yeah, all gone, I promise. Okay. Goodnight.” Dylan hung up and stared at the phone.
“Was he okay?” Joseph asked.
“He sounded relieved,” Dylan said. “I guess he knows the sooner all this is over, the sooner he can go find Samira. She sure is in for a surprise…” He rubbed his eyes and smiled at Sarah. “Wanna take a bath, sweetheart? I could do with forgetting all this for a while.”
“Yeah, come on. Let’s go to bed.”
“Joseph, you’re staying here tonight, okay. Sleep with your phone next to your pillow. You call me if you hear anything strange outside. Or inside. Alright?”
Joseph shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I can’t stay with you all the time. I’ve got band practise all day tomorrow – it’s our gig the night after.”
“Well, you’ll need to be careful. Make sure you stay in contact with me at all times.”
“Wait a minute,” Sarah said. “If it’s your gig the night after tomorrow… that means it’s your birthday in two days!”
He threw her a grin. “Thanks for remembering, Sarah. Hopefully I’ll be able to stay out of Orlov’s way long enough to make it to my twentieth!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Feeling like a spy behind his shades, Dylan held the door open for Sarah to walk into the little café – then he squeezed in behind her. A wave of chatter hit them. The tight space, dusty windows, and mismatched wooden furniture made this place feel even more chaotic than it was. It was packed with shoppers and tourists, and the heat struck Dylan like a volcano. Why the hell didn’t they have air-conditioning in the UK? It was oppressively humid today, and damp, too. The drizzle had set in for the afternoon and a thunderstorm was needed to shift the sticky atmosphere that was rumbling tightly in London’s foundations.
Dylan scanned his gaze through the crowd of seated chattering people, searching frantically for Mikhail. Ah, there he was – sitting at the back in the shadows, engrossed in an old laptop. Dylan was struck again by how young Mikhail was. He wore his wiry body and stern expression like old bark around a fresh sapling. Whatever Mikhail was searching for by getting involved in all this craziness, Dylan hoped he’d soon find it and begin a new life.
Dylan removed his sunglasses and led Sarah over to Mikhail’s table, where they halted. Dylan cleared his throat.
Mikhail glanced up. “Oh, you. I wondered whether you would come. Have you been followed?”
Dylan raised his voice against the chatter. “Probably. We’ve been making a few enemies since I last saw you.”
“You want to sit?”
“Thanks.”
Dylan pulled out a chair for Sarah to sit, then he sat next to her and held her hand.
Mikhail glanced from Sarah to Dylan, then back. “So you want something? You got the blueprint?”
“We destroyed it last night,” Sarah said. “Set it alight.”