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“That’s a hard ask, darling. Rudi Abramovich makes that guy in North Korea look friendly. The man has paranoid down to a fine art.” Carla tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on her bottom lip. “There is someone. Does the security for the house when Rudi is in town.” She opened her tiny purple handbag, brought out the latest iPhone and tapped at the screen. “I’m sending you his number. He’s in charge of the team at the house, so he should have Rudi’s ear, or at least someone close to Rudi.” She gave a delicate shrug. “Worth a try.”
Dimitri nodded his thanks, which irritated Megan.
“Thank you, Carla,” she said pointedly to the oaf taking up most of the bench seat. “Why don’t you pretend you’re a proper human being for a minute and use some manners?”
Her answer was a scowl. Which, she was beginning to believe, was his thinking face.
Dimitri climbed out of the booth and motioned for her to follow. And like a good little soldier she did.
“Later,” he said to Carla and headed for the door.
Megan hesitated before turning back to the woman. Carla had a business card in her hand, which she held out to Megan. She took it, because it would be impolite not to, and put it in the pocket of her jeans.
“Take some time and consider my offer,” Carla said.
“I don’t really think I’m cut out for the sex industry,” Megan said, not wanting to string the woman along.
“Then call me if you want to chat. I think I’d enjoy that.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“That I can do.” Megan grinned. “But really, just between you and me, how much do you think I could earn a week?”
“Megan,” Dimitri barked from the door, making Carla laugh hard.
With a glare in his direction, she waved at the woman and headed towards him.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she told him as he held the door open for her.
“Likewise, Buffy.”
Dimitri called the new contact while Megan browsed through one of the more sedate adult shops in the street. This one was on the women’s lingerie end of the spectrum, although they still carried designer bondage gear and a whole array of flavoured gels. Megan bought a blindfold, which was pretty much a bedazzled eye mask. When Dimitri cocked an eyebrow at her purchase she kept her lips closed and let his imagination fill in the gaps. He didn’t need to know it was a gift for Claire who liked to nap during the day now that she was pregnant, but hated when it was too light.
“We’re meeting Rudi’s guy at seven.”
The look in his eye said it all. The man was primed for vengeance. A year, that’s how long he’d been looking for his sister. A year of chasing down the slightest lead. A year of coming up against brick wall after brick wall. And now, with the help of Benson Security, he was making headway at last. Megan bet he could practically taste the end.
“We’re going to find her.” It was a false promise, born from desperate hope more than anything else. As soon as it fell from her lips, Megan wished it back. Dimitri didn’t need placating, he needed action.
“Yeah,” he said.
Megan put her hand on his arm and held tight. At last he looked in her eyes. “No. I mean, we’ll move heaven and earth until we find her. We’ll do whatever it takes.” It was no less than she would do if it was Claire who was missing.
It was no less than she was doing now to save Claire from a similar fate. For a moment, they held each other’s gaze, a silent understanding between them.
With a deep breath, Dimitri took a step back and glanced at his diver’s watch. “We’ve got over an hour. Might as well eat something.” And then he strode off, expecting her to follow. And like a freaking lemming, she did.
Chapter Three
Dimitri led them to Chinatown, on the other side of Shaftesbury Avenue from the red light district. The pedestrianised street was lined with restaurants, but Megan picked Soon Fatt, purely because she thought the name was hilarious. Dimitri didn’t question her decision, even though there were better looking restaurants on the street. He was learning there were some fights that just weren’t worth the effort.
The interior was standard Chinese restaurant—white tablecloths, red paper lanterns and gold dragon motifs. They ordered a menu for two, the one with crispy duck, plus a few added extras.
“So what’s the plan?”
Megan confiscated all of the spring rolls as soon as they arrived at the table, then stabbed his hand with a chopstick when he reached for one.
“The plan is to use this guy, John Martin, goes by Johnny Rotten, to—”
She stopped with a spring roll halfway to her mouth. “Johnny Rotten? Seriously? Like the punk singer?”
