Unconsciously, Jake’s hands fisted. “You’re right. Still, you’re a long way from home.”
“As are you, my friend.”
When Jake didn’t answer, Popov sighed. “Tired of jousting so soon?” He shook his balding head, the thin strands across the top unmoving, a fine coat of hair oil keeping them in place. “A shame. I have always enjoyed this part of the game.”
“You would.”
“Da. Well, now it is time for our final request.”
Jake tensed, trying to prepare himself. Outside the tack room, a horse nickered and blew. There was laughter, then voices that faded along with the clatter of hooves as the horse walked away.
Jake’s eyes met Popov’s. A knot tied in his stomach as he awaited the words that would decide his fate.
Instead of speaking, the Russian struck a second match and lit a cigarette. As Popov blew the heavy Russian tobacco smoke into the tiny room, Jake forced himself to stay silent.
“I see your patience has improved, Comrade Straka. It seems one is never too old to learn.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“But of course,Tovarich.” He shrugged his shoulders, his ill-fitting, Russian-made coat rustling with the movement. “It is always a pleasure to bring an opponent to his knees. I assume you have completed the tasks we assigned.”
“Yes.”
“Good. One more should not be a problem.” He blew a stream of smoke, the pungent smell stirring memories of a people and a time long past. “I presume your Ms. Fletcher will be riding?”
Ellie was riding. He would put Prissy back in for Clay if he was too sick to ride. “Yes.”
“Then it is her tack you’ll alter. You will make an incision in the girth. You must be certain the saddle will hold together long enough for her to enter the ring, but not long enough for the ride to be completed.”
Anger mixed with fear trickled through him. Sabotaging Ellie’s equipment could result in serious injury. And yet he’d expected them to ask far more. “That’s it?”
“Did you think there would be something else?”
“What are you after, Popov? We both know there is more to this than causing the team to lose the competition.”
“There is the added benefit of making you look bad.”
“That’s not enough.”
“The rest is none of your concern.” Popov’s expression remained inscrutable, the lines across his forehead carefully schooled to reveal nothing.
“If I do as you ask, my mother and sister will come to no harm?”
Popov inhaled deeply, blew out a stream of smoke. “Or your Mrs. Delaine and her daughter.”
“There’ll be no more demands, nothing else you’ll ask me to do?”
“That is correct. However, I will require a word with you after the show.”
“What for?”
“A final good-bye, perhaps?”
“Where?”
“Here, should suffice.”
Jake nodded, more uncertain than ever. “Fine.” He surveyed Popov’s features, looking for some clue as to the Russian’s plans. Not the flicker of an eyelid. The Russian was good at his job. The best.
