Page 79 of Scarlet Angel

NICK

The private facility housing Lina has been around for over fifty years and has seen dozens of dignitaries and celebrities pass through its doors. She’s been here for two hours. Dropping her off presented no issues. Surprisingly, she remained mute through the process.

With Scarlet safely ensconced on my property, now, I’m back.

Technically, I’m not supposed to see Lina this early in her stay. But she’ll go mad if she picks up she’s got a security detail. Tough titty. You can’t have a family history like ours and not prepare for the worst.

On the way over, Nomad called and confirmed he’s got a team assisting. Nomad doesn’t know the players, and I told him as much, but he said he’s got a resource. A private party. I’m skeptical, but it won’t hurt to let his wheels spin.

The only source I can think of that would know all the players is one deceased Leo Sullivan, and ironically, if he still breathed this air, he’s the one I’d go to now. But he’s breathing air in another land under a different name.

The car park is full, so I leave it in a no-parking zone on the side of the street leading up to the stone mansion. Given the rates to stay here, it’s doubtful they ticket visitors, given the visitors are likely the ones paying the exorbitant rates.

The young woman at the desk has big blue eyes etched in black, a nose ring, and enough silver in her ears to set off security at Heathrow.

“It’s not visiting hour,” she says.

No shit. “I need to meet with Lina’s doctor.”

“He’s not here.”

How the fuck is that possible? “Where is he?”

“He’s only here three days a week. He’s at Gramercy Hospital the other two, but today, I believe, is his day off.”

“Who may I address?”

“What’s the problem?” a middle-aged woman in a stodgy suit asks.

“And you are?”

“Dr. Jergensen. I’m the facility director.”

“Then, Doctor, you are exactly who I need to see.”

I look at the men I left outside monitoring the entrance. She follows my gaze.

“Are they with you?”

“Yes. Is there a place we can speak in private?”

“Mr…”

“Ivanov.”

“Mr. Ivanov, I hope you can understand that we follow protocol for the good of our patients?—”

“I’d like to talk with you about my donation to your facility. Fifty million pounds. Anonymously, of course.”

Her eyes widen an appropriate amount.

“Betty, can you reschedule my next appointment?”

After I finish with Dr. Jergensen, I’m granted time to meet with my sister in a private room that reminds me of an elementary school art room.

Her heather gray sweats hang loosely, covering her from wrist to ankle. I can’t recall the last time I saw her with a freshly scrubbed face and no trace of blush or lipstick. She looks younger and more vulnerable. Skin and bones. Can’t say I fancy the model schtick. Why didn’t I see it earlier? Is she that good at hiding it, or am I that obtuse?

“How are you?” I ask as Lina pulls out a chair.

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