“Sándor.”
She shrugged. “He has his own ears in secret places.”
“Good.” Oleg sat up straight. “Ludmila shot him in the ear.”
“Wait, itwasher?” Tatyana frowned. “Why?”
“Because he irritates me, and I wanted him bleeding and wounded for his ridiculous birthday celebration.”
“The birthday party for your sire.”
Oleg rubbed his temple when he felt the twitch in his jaw. “My sire was a monster, and no one should celebrate him.”
“But those men out there tonight.” She shook her head. “They love him.”
“Of course they do. Ivan has turned Truvor’s life into some kind of origin myth for our clan. They have no idea what the real story is. Or if they do, they make excuses for why it wasn’t all that bad back in the old times.”
The times of endless blood. And pain. And death.
His wife’s eyes were far too perceptive. “So you decided to shoot Ivan but not kill him. What was the point of that?”
Oleg decided to change the subject. “Truvor loved it when his sons fought each other. In a way, it was the most appropriate gift to celebrate his birthday.”
“What was the point of shooting Ivan but not killing him, Oleg?”
He smiled. “I love it when you’re demanding.”
“Oleg.”
“And stern.” He leaned forward, pinching her chin between his fingers. “You delight me when you are stern.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“I wanted to make him look foolish in front of his men, of course.” Oleg gave her an answer that was not a lie. “He was rushing around to change his suit before the party. It was quite amusing.”
And yet seeing his brother with panic in his eyes, blood pouring down his neck…
He stood alone in a field of black, his hand sticky with dried blood.
“So you were just having some fun?” Tatyana narrowed her eyes.
Oleg shrugged.
Ash, blood, and earth mixed with the cold, grey water falling from the sky.
“Send the next!”
Tatyana met his gaze with her cool blue stare that was the summer sky. “And what about the man that Mika took? The man with the rifle?”
“One of Mika’s many Estonian spies,” Oleg said. “He’ll be back in Tallinn tomorrow night, and Mika will tell Ivan that he killed him and buried the body in the bogs.”
…he turned, the blood-soaked mud sucking at his feet and pulling him down into the rotting gore…
Tatyana sat back. “How much of being Oleg the Terrible is lying and subterfuge?”
“A lot of it,” he said. “Obviously. It’s not very terrifying to manage a corporation well and expand your logistical capacity in the North Sea. The young ones don’t want to hear about that when they’ve been fed tales of Truvor the Red and his savage conquests along the Volga as if it were milk for their new fangs.”
She sat back and looked at her desk, pursing her lips. “Your logistical capacity is quite terrifying if you look at the numbers in your shadow fleet.”
