“I’ve made a little deal,” Matryona continued, still speaking in Spanish. “We have many customers in Monaco, and some of them are highly placed. When Monaco finishes having their election this afternoon, we will not have to worry about competition or distribution in the principality ever again.”
The Spanish-speaking man snickered. “You do not know Jules Grimaldi very well. He would never agree to that sort of a deal. He will want a new deal every week for every little piece of merchandise we move.”
Matryona didn’t seem surprised. “I agree with you. Jules Grimaldi would never make that kind of a deal, so I did not deal with Jules Grimaldi.”
“What are you talking about?” Kir Sokolov demanded. “Jules Grimaldi told our friend Louis that he has the votes for the election. Dealing with anyone else will just mean that we have to bribe more people in Monaco’s government.”
Dree sneaked a glance toward them. Her arms were sweating from exertion and terror, and the moisture was beginning to soften the duct tape’s adhesive around her wrists.
Matryona’s eyes were half-closed, and a prim smile compressed her lips. “You will see what I’m talking about in a few hours. You men do not see that we havemanyproducts. Yes, we have OxyContin and morphine, methamphetamine and Adderall, Xanax, and Ambien. We sell it as merchandise, but we only make a profit on itonce.”
The guy talking on the other end of Matryona’s phone hissed that she was wasting his time repeating the business structure they all knew.
Matryona continued, “But if social media has taught us anything, it’s thatpeopleare your ultimate product. Facebook doesn’t selladvertising, you know. It sellsaccessto itsusers.Drugs aren’t our only commodity. In fact, they aren’t even our most valuable commodity. Our customers need our drugs and will do anything we tell them to. Like Facebook, ourusersare a resource our organizationowns.While casual customers like Nathan and Ethan Allavena can be influenced to do what we want, our regular customers like Louis Grimaldi, Clémentine Gastaud, and Henri Giordano are assets more valuable than gold.”
“This makes no sense,” Kir said.
Matryona stared at her brother, and Dree had never seen such a cold smile. “While you men scurry around and think your golf and your gambling is important, we women get the job done. Both of you will see how things change after tomorrow when we have an exclusive charter to distribute our products through all of Monaco. Our merchandise will arrive at the Port of Marseille and not even be looked at before it is placed on trucks for all of France and Spain. Welcome to the future, boys. After tomorrow, I will be the future.”
Kir and the Spanish guy scoffed at Matryona, but Dree had the distinct impression they were nervous.
Dree thought they were both being stupid. If they had any sense at all, they would be trying to ally themselves with Matryona rather than antagonize her. She was obviously going to win whatever game they were playing.
That whole conversation was bizarre.
Matryona was walking by where Dree was tied up, so she hissed to get Matryona’s attention.
Matryona asked, “What?”
“I know that you guys just got me all tied up like this, and I hate to be a bother,” Dree said. “But could you untie me for just the teensiest little minute so I can go use that bathroom?”
Dree bobbled her head toward the open door of a bathroom just off the office area. The toilet and sink were visible, as was the wide window near the ceiling where the moon was a bright circle on the night sky.
Matryona scoffed at her. “You will just try to run out the doors again. We will deal with you soon. It doesn’t matter if you have a full bladder for that or not.”
Dree ducked her head and whispered, “I think I just started my period, and I’m wearinga white dress.”
Matryona pressed her lips together and then nodded. “I will get a knife for the duct tape. There are products behind the mirror.”
Dree thanked Matryona profusely and prayed to Mary and all the saints that the little lever to open the bathroom window wasn’t broken.
Chapter Nine
MOTHER HEN
Maxence
Beneath the helicopter, sparkling blue water flowed to the horizon in every direction, interrupted only by the cargo ship that the chopper buzzed away from.
Ever since Max had been kidnapped when he was nine years old and held hostage on that damned cargo ship for over three weeks, he’d agonized that it might happen to him again.
Now that it had, he didn’t feel like a terrified child anymore. His plan was only to find Dree and then make sure those pirates and traitors didn’t do this to anyone else.
But he didn’t feel much else.
A thick fog of limbo separated him from everything he might have felt.
Maxence toggled the microphone on the hearing protection earphones so he could talk to Arthur and Casimir over the shrieking growl of the helicopter. “How far away from Monaco are we?”
