The Persona Protocol - By Andy McDermott Page 0,73

secured it with a tight knot. He slung it over his shoulder to check the length. ‘Not very stylish,’ said Holly Jo.

‘It’ll have to do. How long till we reach the casino?’

Tony checked a screen displaying a map of Macau. ‘Three minutes.’

‘Okay. What’s Bianca doing?’

Despite the night’s warmth, the blustery wind fifty storeys up had forced Bianca and Zykov back inside the penthouse. ‘Sit, sit,’ said the Russian, gesturing at a plush sofa. She did so, only to be taken aback as he plopped down right beside her, one arm along the back of the sofa behind her.

It took every ounce of willpower to prevent her sudden rabbit-in-headlights feeling from showing. Instead, she took a sip of champagne, switching her glass to the hand closest to him so her arm would act as a subtle psychological barrier. ‘Mmm, this is lovely,’ she said, holding the elegant flute up to the light. ‘What label is it?’

Zykov shrugged. ‘French. I don’t know. But yes, it is nice.’ His hand dropped down to touch her shoulder.

‘So, ah,’ she said hurriedly, ‘you were a paratrooper, then? That sounds very exciting. You know, I’m genuinely interested in what it must be like to be a soldier. My father was one, so I suppose that accounts for my fascination!’ He was actually a teacher, and would be horrified at the prospect, but she offered him a brief mental apology before pressing on. ‘I’ve heard that Russian military training is very tough. Is that true?’

Zykov seemed torn between annoyance at the conversational diversion and flattered by her interest. He finally smiled, accepting the latter – for now. ‘It is, yes. We are tough in Russia – toughest in the world. We have to be, it is a very tough country! We hear stories about what hard men the British and the Americans are with their SAS and their Delta Force. Ha! Even an ordinary private in the Russian army is stronger!’

‘Bianca,’ Holly Jo said quietly through the almost forgotten earwig while Zykov spoke. ‘Adam is coming into the casino now. Keep Zykov occupied for as long as you can.’

‘You’re doing great,’ Tony added. ‘Oh, and what he just said about Delta? Totally not true.’

Bianca smiled at his remark, realising too late that the Russian had taken it as directed at him. ‘I will show you how strong I am, if you like,’ he said, leering.

She felt panic rising, again struggling to keep her true feelings hidden. ‘I’m sure you’re very strong,’ she said. ‘You look as if you work out a lot.’

Zykov’s conflict between lust and ego was harder-fought this time, but again came out in favour of the latter – just. ‘Yes,’ he said, his wandering hand now taking a firmer hold on her shoulder, ‘I do. I lift weights, I run . . .’

‘I think Bianca really wants you to get up there as fast as you can,’ Holly Jo told Adam as he approached the elevators. The laptop bag, stuffed to bursting point with the PERSONA hardware, thumped against his hip with every step, and the makeshift strap on the medical case was uncomfortably short. His discomfort was made worse by the numerous items now inside his jacket.

‘Is she in trouble?’ he replied, pretending to talk into his phone.

‘Not yet, but Zykov’s making moves on her. And I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer much longer.’

‘I’m at the elevators now.’ To one side, two lifts stood apart from the others, a uniformed Imperial employee standing in attendance – or rather, on guard. Access to the private elevators to the fiftieth floor was strictly controlled.

That wasn’t where he was going – yet. He waited for a regular elevator to arrive, then entered, pushing the button for the forty-ninth floor. ‘Levon, what have you got?’

‘I found you a way up to the roof,’ came the reply from STS. ‘The central section of the penthouse level is mostly machinery – air-con, elevator winches, things like that. There’s a maintenance access on forty-nine that leads up there, and from there you can reach a service area with a hatch to the roof.’

The elevator began its ascent. ‘How far to Zykov’s penthouse?’

‘Well, that’s the thing.’ Levon sounded less than happy. ‘You know that sign on the roof that says “Imperial” in big neon letters?’

‘Yes?’

‘And you know how that’s in the middle of the roof, and the penthouses are on the corners?’

‘Levon . . .’

‘The hatch opens right behind the centre of the sign, okay?’ Levon explained. ‘You’ve