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“Oh. He’s still getting around to seducing her by the sounds of it.”
“No, I mean… what’s her maiden name.”
“Oh right. It’s Buzinsky. Anna Buzinsky.”
Dylan knelt in front of the safe and carefully pressed the letters for Buzinsky. Again nothing happened. “Nice try anyway.”
Sarah’s chest tightened with anticipation. How the hell were they going to crack this bloody safe open? She wrung her fingers nervously. “I bet she’s got tons of names. Russians do that, don’t they? Have loads of names.”
Dylan frowned at his phone. “Good point, sweetheart. Let’s check her Wikipedia page.”
Sarah’s mind buzzed as the seconds dripped thickly by. She was sure she could hear footsteps out in the hallway. But the carpet was heavy out there, making it easy to sneak up on this room...
Dylan scrolled through the webpage. “She’s got seven names. Anna Valentina Catherine Stefleez… I can’t even pronounce that one.” He glanced up. “Probably makes more sense in Russian, huh?”
Sarah gasped as an idea struck her. “The Russian alphabet!”
“What?”
Sarah opened her mouth to explain, but an alarm on Vladimir’s desk suddenly bleeped loudly, making her jump. The yelp was out of her lips before she could stop it. She threw her hands over her mouth.
“Shit,” Dylan whispered, composing himself. “It’s okay. It’s just his phone.”
They both stared at the ornate black telephone as it sat there ringing loudly on the desk like a traitor. What if someone heard it and came in? Orlov was still with his cronies, wasn’t he? Surely he wouldn’t answer his office phone this late at night, would he?
The expensive rug seemed to whirl under Sarah’s feet as she tried to remain upright against her thrashing heart. Dylan suddenly sprang to life, no longer able to stand the ringing that dominated the entire room – and Sarah’s brain. He strode over to the wall and ripped it out of its socket.
Sarah breathed deeply. Her hands were clammy, but she steeled her nerve. Surely they could do this.
Dylan strolled back over to the safe. “What were you saying, Sarah? About the Russian alphabet?”
“Er… um…?”
“Better make it quick, sweetheart. Just in case Orlov did hear his phone.”
“I was thinking… oh yeah! Maybe he would’ve spelled his mother’s maiden name with the Russian alphabet?”
Sarah grabbed her phone from her purse and opened up a translation webpage. She typed in the word ‘Buzinsky’, then clicked the button to translate it. She willed it to hurry. The screen refreshed and she gazed at what looked like nonsense: ?????????. It was a bit like a personalised license plate when it tried to spell out a name but didn’t quite manage it – because the numbers didn’t quite resemble the letters they were meant to emulate. But maybe…
“Hey, Dylan,” she said. “Try typing in ‘6y3NHCKNN’.”
He frowned. “Okay.”
With trepidation, Dylan typed in the code, then they waited on the outskirts of space/time for what seemed like an eternity. Sarah held her breath; her skin prickled with anticipation… then she groaned with relief as the safe locks clunked heavily open – like the sound of sweet salvation. Her heart leapt with joy!
“Yes!” she shouted, punching the air. But then her stomach plunged straight to her knees like a crashing elevator as her ears caught the sound of two angry Russian male voices in the hallway, getting closer.
Dylan sprang to his feet. “I’ll stall them. You grab the blueprint. Put it somewhere safe.”
On auto-pilot Sarah crouched down in her heels and dress, and pulled open the heavy metal door. Dylan rushed over to the office door and – for want of a better plan – leaned all his weight against it.
The Russians pounded hard on the wood in the hallway. Dylan leaned harder against the door, managing to keep them out for now. “Come on, Sarah!” he whispered. “I can’t hold them long!”
Sarah focused on the contents of the safe. Right, what did Ivan say she was looking for? A piece of plastic? Her gaze scanned frantically over a leather folder full of papers, a diamond necklace, and several passports. Sarah reached in with trembling hands, trying to ignore the men outside who were now shoulder-slamming the door. She knew Dylan was strong, but he wouldn’t be able to hold them forever. She moved the passports out the way and picked up the diamond necklace. It was so beautiful… She dropped it. And there it was: the flimsy piece of transparent plastic that was worth millions of dollars – and which had cost poor Natalia her life. She grabbed it and thrust it into her purse, then she turned and saw Dylan pressing both arms against the doorframe, keeping himself wedged fast. His body was being bounced violently each time the Russians outside slammed it. But he was winning at the moment.
“Not in your purse!” he whispered. “Put it somewhere else!”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. Where? But he was probably right – they were bound to check her bag. She rolled up the thin plastic – not really caring if she damaged it, because they needed to destroy it anyway – and tucked it into the gusset of her panties, like a panty-liner. It was hard and shiny, but smooth. Dylan grinned at her as she pushed her dress back down. She laughed at the craziness of the situation – it was that or melt into a pool of fear.
