The Spy Wore Red (12 page)

Out of the corner of her eye Nadja saw a body enter the
kaffeehaus.
She focused, recognized Gerda and watched as the woman hurried to their table. She had put on weight, and her gray hair had thinned and turned drab, but there was no mistaking her—it was the witch.

And she still had the leather strap attached to her belt.

The woman jerked to a halt, but when she attempted to speak, Mady held up her hand. “It’s all right, Gerda. I’ll bring Alzbet up for her nap. But first I want her to meet someone.”

Gerda huffed loudly, then turned to look at Nadja. When recognition dawned, she took two complete steps back. “Well, finally the queen decides to show her face. I’ll tell your grandfather you’re here.”

“There’s no need,” Nadja said. “I’ve already seen him.”

Gerda snorted, then with a curt nod she looked at Mady. “A spoilt child is a weak child. And weak children are disappointments.” Her cold eyes found Nadja and she offered a smug grin before addressing Mady again. “Alzbet needs discipline. Your interference will only cause her pain in the end.”

The last was said with Gerda’s eyes fastening back on Nadja, and the image of herself in Gerda’s iron grasp being struck with the leather strap flashed behind Nadja’s eyes. The witch had loved hearing her scream.

She drew in a heavy breath, checked herself and watched as the elderly woman turned and walked away. Nadja could still feel the sting of the leather strap on the back of her thighs, still feel the old woman pinching her butt. Pinching so hard that she would be bruised for weeks at a time and each time she sat she was reminded of it.

“She’s gone, Alzbet.” Mady bent over to speak to the child tucked beneath the table. “Now come out so you can meet your other aunt. Nadja is here, the one in all the pictures in Grandpa Stefn’s bedroom.”

Slowly the child crawled out from under the table. “Auntie Nad is here?” the sweet voice asked. “The one who can ski faster than the wind?”

Her eyes were huge when she turned and looked at Nadja, and in that moment Nadja’s world tilted. She had always wondered what her daughter looked like, but she had never asked Ruger to send a picture. And now…now she was here. Her daughter was at Groffen.

So the truth was, Ruger had never adopted out the baby as he had told her he would do. He had kept Alzbet with him. She recalled what the nun had told her in Salzburg, and then the priest in Innsbruck.

Everyone believed the child was Ruger’s. Thus the scandal, a scandal that had put him out of the church, and Alzbet into the hands of Kovar.

As calmly as she could manage, Nadja said, “Hello Alzbet. I’m Nadja.”

Her girl nodded, her eyes still huge. “I know. I’ve seen your pictures. Grandpa tells stories about you all the time. You’re pretty.”

Nadja looked into the child’s eyes. Unable to help herself, she said exactly what she was thinking, “You’re pretty, too, and you have beautiful eyes, Alzbet. Sky-blue eyes.”

Your father’s eyes,
she thought.

Nadja reached down and lifted the little miracle onto her lap. She had to touch her. It would be the first time, and the need to put her hands on what she’d been forced to give away was too much. She couldn’t resist.

She caught Mady staring, and she checked herself again. This wasn’t the time or place to reveal feelings that no one would understand. Feelings that would give birth to a dozen questions if she slipped up. Still, she felt tears sting her eyes, and she blinked them back.

“I ski, too. Grandpa’s teaching me. He says you didn’t start soon enough. That’s why he’s starting me now, and if I do everything he tells me I’m going to be the best there ever was. Even better than you.”

Oh God, he knew? Somehow Kovar had found out that Alzbet was her daughter. She had tried to prevent it, had given her child up to protect her. Only it hadn’t kept her sweet baby out of Kovar’s long reach. The only thing it had accomplished was to make her a stranger in her child’s eyes.

Bjorn took Groffen apart a floor at a time, and by the time he was finished he had decided that he and Nadja had grown up in two completely different worlds. He had been invisible most of his life—living in back alleys eating garbage, while she had lived in a cut-glass fishbowl, fed from a silver spoon.

He’d been in contact with Jacy again, and he had confirmed that Kovar Stefn had connections in high and low places. That it wouldn’t have been hard for him financially to buy his way in or out of any situation. Groffen was a testimony to his staggering wealth. But there was more to Kovar Stefn than money and a few connections.

While Bjorn continued to familiarize himself with the lodge, Jacy funneled information to him as he uncovered it. One of those pieces of information was the existence of a secret club in the underbelly of the lodge designed specifically for a select group of guests—an exclusive club appropriately named After Shock.

Jacy had pointed out that it was the kind of club meant for the bold and beautiful, and that to get inside you needed to look rich and required a sponsor.

“I’ll see what I can do about getting you that sponsor,” Jacy had said. “One name is all you need.”

Bjorn wasn’t surprised when an hour later Jacy called back with a name that would guarantee him entrance to the club.

It was as he was moving from one floor to another that Bjorn caught sight of Nadja walking down a corridor with a slight blond woman and a small child. He followed at a discreet distance and watched them get into an elevator.

Chapter 12

T
he doctors who put her back together after the accident in Zurich had told her it would take a miracle for her to be able to conceive a child. That the ability to get pregnant was nonexistent due to the extent of internal damage that had been done.

And yet, after one night with Bjorn Odell, she’d been given the gift of motherhood, and then nine months later the miracle had been born—a beautiful baby girl Ruger had aptly named Alzbet—“consecrated to God.”

The child had weighed six pounds, seven ounces, and had been nineteen and a half inches long. She’d been mostly bald and had all ten toes and fingers. This had all come from Ruger. Nadja had refused to see her baby for fear she wouldn’t be able to give her up once she laid eyes on her.

The fact that she had given her baby away knotted Nadja’s stomach once more and she ran back into the bathroom for a second time to vomit—oh God, Kovar had found out she had a child, and now he owned her little girl, too.

Alzbet…

It was a pretty name. A perfect name for a cherub-faced baby with dreamy blue eyes and an angelic smile.

Nadja’s fingers stroked over the tattoo she’d gotten after she’d given her child away. With a keening noise akin to that of a dying animal, she dropped to her knees, tears streaming.

The guilt that had started to lift over the years was back, and with it a sickening kind of resignation. She stood and went to the sink and splashed water on her face, then looked into the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” she chastised as the tears continued to fall. “She needs you now, and you will not desert her a second time.”

Against her better judgment Nadja left her room. She needed to see her daughter again.

She slipped into the room down the hall where Mady had ushered Alzbet for her nap. The room was dark, the shades drawn. She entered with the skill of a master spy, her steps soundless and her ears attuned to anything unusual. She didn’t expect to hear muffled crying, but when she did her body stiffened. She followed the sound of weeping through another set of doors. This room was even darker, and she stood for a moment to let her eyes adjust. When they did, she made out a small shape curled up on the bed. She knew it was her daughter, and somehow Alzbet sensed that someone was there and sat up.

It was then that Nadja knew the degree of her daughter’s suffering, the same suffering she had been forced to endure at the hands of the witch.

Gerda…the bitch from hell was at it again.

“Auntie Nad?”

“Yes, baby, it’s me.”

Alzbet sniffled.

Nadja entered the room and moved to the bed. She turned on the small light on the nightstand, then eased down beside her daughter.

“Are you hurt?”

“Nein.”

Nadja wasn’t convinced. “Come here, baby.”

She reached for her daughter and lifted her onto her lap. When Alzbet’s bottom made contact she sucked in her breath.

“Was Gerda here?” she asked, in as calm a voice as she could manage.

Alzbet nodded.

“I promise she won’t hurt you again,” Nadja assured her.

“Don’t say anything. I can’t tell. If I tell, she’ll—”

“Shh… It’s okay.” Then she stood, careful not to cause her daughter more pain. It felt wonderful to hold her, and she had the urge to pull her close and squeeze.

Instead, she said, “You’re safe now, angel eyes.”

“But Gerda—”

“Believe me when I say, Gerda isn’t going to hurt you ever again.”

She slipped into the hall and carried Alzbet back to her suite. Inside her daughter said, “Grandpa won’t like that I’m here. He has rules and I’m supposed to take a nap after lunch.” She pushed Nadja’s hair away from her ear, then leaned in and whispered, “I shouldn’t have run from Gerda this morning. I know better.”

“It doesn’t take much to make the witch mad,” Nadja said, remembering.

Her comment pulled a small smile from her daughter. “I call her that sometimes,” she admitted.

Nadja studied her daughter’s face. There were no marks on it, no scars, only red eyes and tear-marked cheeks. But that was no surprise. Gerda’s abuse was never visible; she had always been careful where she laid her strap. Not even Kovar knew the extent of Gerda’s discipline, because the marks were always hidden beneath a layer of clothes.

She said, “A nap can be taken anywhere, and this one is going to be taken here, in my suite.”

She sat Alzbet in a soft chair and heard her suck in her breath again as her little bottom met with the cushion. “Would you like a cookie?”

“The witch says no sugar.” Alzbet wrinkled up her nose. “She says it’ll make me fat and sluggish on the slopes. Grandpa agrees.”

Nadja went to her bag and rummaged through it until she found the chocolate-mint cookies she’d bought before leaving the lobby at Nordzum. Cookies in hand, she settled in the chair opposite her daughter. She couldn’t stop staring—staring at the beautiful little girl she and Bjorn had created five years ago.

She handed a cookie to Alzbet. “I don’t think you have to worry about getting fat, it’s not in your genes.”

“Really? Did you know my mother? No one talks about her. I’ve never seen any pictures either.”

Yes, you have,
Nadja wanted to say.
Yes, you have, sweet baby.
But she couldn’t. Her daughter would never understand why her mother had given her away.

“Take a bite of the cookie,” she urged. “It tastes yummy.”

“Yummy. That’s a funny word.” She nibbled the corner of the cookie.

The second a burst of chocolate mint exploded in her mouth her eyes widened. Nadja sat mesmerized, watching. She was aware that she was sharing a first-time experience with her daughter—a chocolate-mint cookie.

“I think Kovar Stefn is working with the KGB,” Jacy Madox said the minute Bjorn put his cell phone to his ear.

“Do you have any proof?”

“No. Just a lot of coincidences. And you know me and coincidences.”

Bjorn listened, recalling what Nadja had told him about her bionic chip, and the Russian scientist.

“What else?” he asked.

“Remember when you told me Holic Reznik was a skier?”

“Ja.”

“Guess who his coach was.”

“Kovar Stefn,” Bjorn said.

“That’s right. How does that fit in, do you think?”

“I don’t know. But I suppose you’ll need to run this by someone at Onyxx.”

“I’m thinking the Agency is going to see this as a breakthrough. They may want to reevaluate this can of worms.”

Bjorn could hear the energy in Jacy’s voice. He was pumped.

“You’re not going to like to hear this, bro, but in my opinion Holic is worth more to us alive than dead if some of this stuff checks out.”

“You’re right, I don’t want to hear that.”

“Any closer to locating him?”

“Not yet. Put a call in and give the Agency what you’ve got. If you can talk to Merrick, tell him I still want the son of a bitch dead, but I’ll reconsider if the money doubles and I get a two-month vacation once this is all over.”

“A vacation? You? You don’t take vacations.”

“I’m going to need one this time.”

Bjorn caught sight of the thin blonde heading up the stairs. The woman who had been in the hall with Nadja. “I see someone I need to have a conversation with. Call Merrick, then let me know what he’s decided. I’ll do dead or alive. But dead with more enthusiasm.”

He was on the move before his phone was in his pocket. Dressed gangster rich, wearing glasses and a Rolex he’d bought in one of Groffen’s exclusive shops, Bjorn caught up with the slight blonde just as she stepped into the elevator.

Once the door closed, leaving them alone, he said, “You don’t work here by any chance, do you?”

“Actually I’m a granddaughter to the lodge owner. Is there something I can do to make your stay more enjoyable? Or is there a problem?”

The lodge owner’s granddaughter? As far as Bjorn knew, Kovar Stefn only had two grandchildren, Nadja and Ruger.

Stashing the information, he said, “I have a friend who recommended Groffen to me. He mentioned there was more here by way of entertainment than just great skiing.”

He flashed her a playboy smile. Waited.

His hint of something more gave her pause, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to deny that there was more action available than Two Winters nightclub.

He hoped he hadn’t come on too strong. But then, maybe she’d been kept blind to what other entertainment was offered at Groffen. No, she didn’t look stupid. Too thin, but not stupid.

She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a notepad. “Your sponsor’s name is?”

Bjorn didn’t hesitate. Jacy had already done an extensive amount of digging, and knew what it would take to get into Groffen’s gaming den.

“Cornell Peters.”

She wrote the name on the paper, then slid the pad and pen back into her pocket. “If the name checks out, Mr….”

“Larsen.”

“Mr. Larsen. Then you can expect an invitation delivered to your door by this evening. You are a guest,
da?
”

“Yes. Room 609.”

She pulled the pad out and wrote the number next to his name, and when the elevator stopped, she stepped out. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Larsen.”

The elevator had stopped on the fourth floor. Bjorn didn’t follow her out, since his room was two floors up. It took a moment for the door to close again, and in that space of time his attention was directed halfway down the hall to where a door had opened up.

When Nadja stepped out into the hall, he made no sudden movement, hoping her eyes wouldn’t wander to the elevator. He hadn’t wanted her to know he was at Groffen just yet—but it was too late for that. She raised her head past the woman he’d ridden up the elevator with and locked eyes with him.

She gave no reaction, offered no expression. On the other hand he pulled his businessman’s glasses to the end of his nose as if in appreciation of a beautiful woman. Then, so that she knew they would be seeing each other soon, he acknowledged her with an upward jerk of his head.

The elevator doors were starting to close when he heard Nadja say, “Mady, there’s something we have to discuss.”

The name caught Bjorn’s attention. If the woman he’d shared the elevator with was Mady Reznik as well as Kovar Stefn’s granddaughter, then that meant she was also Nadja’s sister.

The very idea that Nadja was Holic’s sister-in-law sent his head spinning. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, realizing that the can of worms had just started to stink.

“I’m going to visit Kovar. Can you stay here? Alzbet is asleep in the bedroom.”

“She’s here? Why?”

Nadja turned back to her sister. “Because Gerda has been using a leather strap on her.”

“A leather strap? That’s impossible. I would know if she—”

“You didn’t know she was using it on me when I was younger.”

Her confession took Mady aback. “On you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reason Alzbet has been keeping silent. Fear it would get worse. But what happened years ago doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Gerda is up to her old tricks and she’s abusing my…Alzbet.”

“I’ll talk to Kovar.”

“No,
I’ll
talk to Kovar. In the meantime, keep Gerda away from her.”

“I can’t believe this. How could I not have seen what was going on?”

“Because Gerda is very good at what she does. She keeps the bruises hidden.”

Nadja caught a glimpse of a bruise on the back of Mady’s arm. “It doesn’t look like Alzbet is the only one around here wearing bruises. What is yours from?”

Nadja’s question had Mady looking terribly uncomfortable. She slipped her hand over the bruise high on the back of her arm, and said, “This was my fault. Sometimes I get clumsy.”

Nadja knew a lie when she heard one. If the bruise was inflicted—and that’s what it looked like—then someone had squeezed until they had managed to break several small blood vessels. And if that someone was Holic, then that meant he was here—the bruise wasn’t two days old.

Mady reached out and touched Nadja’s arm. “Don’t worry about me. This is nothing. But you…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when Gerda—”

“It’s in the past, Mady. What’s important now is Alzbet.” Nadja reached out and took Mady’s hand. “And if you need my help, I’ll help you, too.”

Her sister pulled her hand away. “I told you. I get clumsy sometimes. What do you think, that Holic beats me? I assure you he doesn’t.”

But he had. Nadja could see it in Mady’s eyes. The pain and the sadness. This was just more proof that Holic was a monster, she thought. She was experienced with his kind, knew how they operated, what got them off. It was all about power and control. She was a connoisseur of evil men—men who lived to feed off the weak.

Suddenly she said, “I don’t mean to judge you, Mady. Never. I only want you safe.” Nadja stepped back then. “I’ll go speak to Kovar now. You’ll stay with Alzbet—”

“I have a few important matters to see to downstairs, but I’ll call Prisca. She’ll come up and watch Alzbet.” She pulled a notepad from her pocket and glanced at it, then addressed Nadja once more. “My errand list isn’t too long. I can be back in a couple of hours. Then, if it works out, we’ll all go to dinner later.”

Nadja glanced at Mady’s errand list, surprised when she saw
Mr. Larsen
written at the bottom, along with another name and a suite number.

She had no idea why Mady would have Bjorn’s alias on her list, but she would find out now that she knew he was in suite 609.

But first she would speak to Kovar about Gerda.