Hart cleared his throat, pointing down and to the left of him where there stood, a silent and none-too-pleased-looking Midwesterner.
“My apologies, sir,” Sasha said, bowing his head. “I confess I did not know what you looked like until now.”
Mr. B nodded silently.
Tess stepped in. “This is Teddy. Mr. B’s head of security,” she said, introducing Officer Hart.
It was then I spotted the one man I’d hoped I wouldn’t run into while in Russia. Zivon Petrakov. He was holding a champagne bottle in one hand andin the other, a joint that was so big, it looked like it had been rolled by one of Bob Marley’s roadies. He was flanked by two young women who were acting as Zivon’s ‘training wheels,’ keeping him on the straight and narrow path. A path that was leading directly to us.
“Elenor, you’ve met by brother, Zivon, haven’t you?” Sahsa asked as Zivon approached our group.
“Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Zivon,” she said with a polite nod.
Zivon stared at her blankly for a moment, blinked twice, and then looked over at me.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Zivon said as he studied my face. “I know whoyouare.”
My blood froze inside my veins. This is exactly what I was afraid of. Zivon recognized me and now everyone I’m with is in danger. Most of all, Tess.
“Don’t you guys know who this is?” Zivon asked, motioning to me. “He flew all the way from America to be here. Don’t you know?”
Tess and I locked eyes.
“Hold on, I know what will help,” Zivon slurred, before setting his champagne bottle on the ground and handing his spliff to one of his companions. Zivon then formed his hands into circles before holding them up to my face, then pulling them away. “See?” he exclaimed excitedly. “It’s Superman!” Zivon held his ‘hand goggles’ to my face again. “It’s Clark Kent.” Once again removed, he yelled “It’s Superman! He flew here all the way from Metropolis to be here for Maxim’s birthday.”
Zivon’s companions laughed as if their financialfutures depended on it.
“See, honey?” Tess said. “I’ve always said you look like Henry Cavil.”
“Christopher Reeve is the only acceptable on-screen Superman,” Sasha said, before turning to Zivon. “Now, if you’ll forgive him, my brother Zivon has some place he needs to be right now. Isn’t that right?”
Zivon saluted his ‘brother,’ retrieved his bottle and his zeppelin of a joint, and again with the assistance of ‘Pretty Thing One’ and ‘Pretty Thing Two,’ sauntered toward the dance floor.
And that was it.
Zivon Petrakov looked at me dead in the face and had absolutely no clue who I was. Sure, he was drunk. Sure, he was an idiot, but if he’d orchestrated the fires that had burned down Wallace Brother’s properties, he’d know who I was. His obliviousness, coupled with the fact that neither Tess nor George knew anything about the scams he’d supposedly run, could only mean one thing. Zivon Petrakov never ran any scams and had nothing to do with our jobsite fires.
So, why did my handler lie to me? Why did Frank Graves want me to think the Petrakovs had targeted my family?
I didn’t know what it was, but I could not shake the feeling that something about this mission was fundamentally wrong.
“Please,” Sasha said. “You are all most welcome in my home. Let’s go inside, away from all this foolishness and noise.”
Once inside, we faced the metal detector.
“What is this?” Mr. B asked in a low, controlled tone.
“Security precautions,” Sasha replied. “I don’t permit firearms in my home.”
“Security for who? Your guys are all heavy. Why should mine go in light?”
Krist Darwood had left the building and the Man from Brussels had taken his place. His demeanor, his accent, his tone of voice, all completely different to what we’d been subjected to for the past three hours.
Sasha held firmly. “I mean no disrespect, but I’m afraid it is my policy.”
“You’ve got an even bigger set of balls than I thought,” Mr. B said.
“Shall we continue, then?”
