Padding barefoot from the bathroom into the sitting room, she looked up at one of the Pollocks inherited from her late brother. The chaos and confusion of the piece troubled her. She had no idea what Valerian had seen in it. Science brought order from chaos. The order and dignity of the neighbouring painting: Landscape with Lanterns by Paul Delvaux, was more to her liking. It was a clumsy juxtaposition with the Pollock. She wasn’t given to melancholy, but there was something about the mysterious nature of the work that resonated with her. Was she the elegant woman gazing into the centre ground at the two figures carrying a sheeted bier? Who lay under the cover? Was it her brother, her mother, her father or an amalgam of all the lives and loves lost? What of the structures on the horizon? Ruins or a building unfinished? A stage?
Valerian’s art and other personal effects had been the straightforward part of settling his estate. The remaining affairs to be dealt with lay beyond the oak door in her study. The evidence touted by the Helix brothers during their crusade to discredit her brother and that quisling Wheeler, was only the pinnacle of an enormous pyramid. Trust was not a trait she had been blessed with. Much of the procedural work to transfer title had been carried out by legal AI systems, but she had no faith in flesh and blood lawyers.
Leaning into the heavy door, she pushed into her library-cum-study, the stale smell of antique paper and furniture rushing to meet her. Valerian’s desk, their father’s desk, dominated one corner, much as her father had whenever he entered a room. Ulyana’s memory of the punishment she received for daring to sit in his chair still stung as much as the original slap. Using his desk and chair was an act of defiance that she hoped would ignite her father’s ire in the afterlife.
Taking a thin tablet from the desk, she brushed her finger tips over the screen. An array of holographic monitors and virtual filing cabinets loaded with digital documentation, filled the room with light, illuminating the overburdened bookshelves. She swept a folder of documents from one of the larger monitors onto the tablet.
She glanced over her shoulder as Archer ducked through the door, his white shirt sticking to his damp chiselled pectorals. The ancient floorboards creaked under his weight as he crossed to the drinks table. ‘Are they the transfer documents for the R&D centre in Berlin?’ he said, holding up a bottle of vodka.
She nodded ‘I need to review and sign them. Is everything in place over there?’
Archer poured two fingers of the crystal spirit into two frosted glasses. ‘It is now,’ he said holding out a glass to her. ‘The CEO got the message eventually. There won’t be any hitches.’
Lytkin nosed the vodka, ignoring his offer to clink glasses. ‘Good. Remove her as soon as the transfer is complete.’
Archer nodded and took a sip of his drink. He folded his arms, nursing the glass in the crook of his arm. ‘I have an update on the location of the targets.’
Lytkin glanced up from the tablet. ‘Tell me,’ she said, sliding behind her father’s desk.
‘Two are in Moscow, one in Novosibirsk, one in Damascus and two in Ankara.’
‘Who’s in Novosibirsk?’
‘Petrov.’
A half smile broke across her face. ‘He thought we wouldn’t find him in Siberia?’ She put her glass down on the inlaid leather writing surface. ‘And what about vectors? How are we going to deploy?’
Archer emptied his glass and turned back to the drinks table. ‘Human.’
‘What?’ Lytkin said, sliding the tablet onto the desk. ‘Suicide vectors are unreliable.’
‘Not if they don’t know they are suicide vectors.’ He poured himself another measure. ‘Your brother had people deep in their organisations, with access to water, whisky, food, medication, even toothpaste. Failing that—’
‘Failing nothing!’ Lytkin said, her glass jumping on the table as she slammed her hand down. ‘We will not fail. I want them all dead.’
‘I meant that if it proves difficult to spike their food, there are members of their security detail, household staff, even their whores. Anyone who can get close.’
Lytkin folded her hands in front of her face. Anyone who could get close. She tapped the display on the tablet bringing up the feed from Ethan’s cell.
Archer sauntered behind the desk and perched alongside her. ‘His brother? Or were you thinking of something else?’
‘It’s a shame we don’t have more time.’ She pressed her glass against her bottom lip. ‘How long will it take to complete everything once we have Stepper?’
‘Forty-eight hours. Seventy-two max. We could expedite the plan, take Helix out of the equation.’
‘Have a little more faith, Archer.’
He shrugged. ‘I just think—’
‘Thinking can get you into a lot of trouble,’ she said, sliding the tablet onto the desk. ‘You should do less of it.’ She tossed her vodka back in one. ‘Romantic love is a fickle thing, there one moment, gone the next. But family is everything. He will come. He will choose. And he will deliver her to me.’
19
28 Hours
Overnight, the clouds had broken, taking away the snow and leaving the moon and stars in the yawning glow of a crisp dawn. The thick brown snake of the River Wye slithered through the mist-cloaked valley. The fog evaporated on the western bank in the first rays of sun while on the eastern side the villagers would have to wait their turn. Wisps of wood smoke spiralled skyward from stoves, signalling the stirring of life. The crow of the cockerel carried over snow-capped roofs.
In the schoolhouse, Gabrielle stretched and rolled to Helix’s side. He simmered in the heady euphoria
