“>” Kyle said in Russian, gaining Yulia’s complete and undivided attention. “>”
Yulia’s gaze flicked from Kyle to Jamie and back again. If she seemed surprised about Kyle’s fluency in Russian, she didn’t show it. “>”
“>”
“>”
That warning, coming from a probable officer of Russia’s GRU, wasn’t one they could ignore. Politics wasn’t his forte at all, but even Kyle knew drawing the attention of the Kremlin during a time like this wasn’t going to go over well with anyone outsidetheMDF.
Back in January, Stanislav had orchestrated the death of his GRU minder to escape their scrutiny. That hadn’t stopped the Russian government from keeping an eye on his activities judging by Yulia’s presence here at this private party. The overt outreach wasn’t typical, and Kyle wondered just how out of favor the Pavluhkins really were with the Kremlin if the GRU was willing to meddle in American business and politics just to deprive the Pavluhkins ofpower.
“>Kylesaid.
“>”
Kyle froze, breath catching in his throat at herwords. “>”
Yulia logged into her personal tablet and tilted the screen toward them at an angle that ensured only they would see it. On screen was a holopic taken by a camera with long lenses capable of night-vision shots. It showed a man and a woman, supposedly on a nighttime walk, controlling a drone camera that was pointed at Le Meurice and the private dining room Alpha Team had met the Pavluhkins in. She swiped to access more holopics, including several that showed them dining with thePavluhkins.
Jamie’s expression remained polite, even if his voice sounded how a frozen tundra might feel. “I’mlistening.”
Yulia biolocked the tablet and tucked it away into her evening clutch. “My employer has great respect for the company you are bankrolling, Mr. Callahan. Root Source, Inc. has a solid reputation we’re willing to vouch for and help grow in the event your current business partnership doesn’t pan out. Do keep us in mind in thefuture,da?”
The warning in her words was clear as day, slipping around them like a noose they couldn’t escape. If the people in those holopics were truly CIA officers, it was anyone’s guess on which faction they belonged to—the CIA deputy director or those actually loyal to the United States. The earlier call with the director about the attempted wiretap made far more sense now. Either way, it didn’t paint Jamie nor his family in a good light, and if word got out they were involved in black-market deals, there would be hell to pay, even if the truth came out later it was done at the behest oftheMDF.
On the flip side, they were now fielding a business offer from the Russian government itself through its Main Intelligence Directorate because they were just that damned good attheirjob.
Kyle didn’t know whether to laugh or drown his sorrows in a bottle ofalcohol.
“Thanks,” Kylegritout.
“Da svidanya,”Yuliasaid.
She sauntered off, leaving them to pick up the pieces of a bombshell revelation that would have a serious impact on how they moved forward. Kyle half-wondered if it would be enough for the director to finally pull the mission completely. Eleven months of hard work trying to outmaneuver the Pavluhkins had resulted in enough leads and problems to keep them busy for at leastanotheryear.
He knew retreating from the Pavluhkins would be easier said than done, especially with solid evidence in the hands of the enemy, both foreign and domestic, linking the Callahans to that troubled Russian oligarchfamily.
“Your call,”Kylesaid.
He thought Jamie would stay to see this task through to the bitter end, or at least until the bar announced the last call at 0400 the next morning. Instead, Jamie guided Kyle toward the stairs, depositing their half-empty glasses on the first table they passed. Gwen intercepted them quicker than the Secret Service did, appearing at their sides seemingly out ofthinair.
“Is everything all right, Jamie?” Gwen worriedlyasked.
“Everything’s fine, Gwen, but my father just called. Campaign business, you know how it is,” Jamie said, the lie sounding like truth even to Kyle’sdiscerningears.
They kept walking, but a nearby camera flash caught Kyle’s attention. He turned his head in time to catch a glimpse of a man he really didn’t like. “Gwen, your brand party has an unwantedguest.”
“Excuse me?” she said, peering around at the crowd inquestion.
Kyle tugged Jamie to a stop, sharp eyes easily picking out Adam Dixon,The New York Timesinvestigative reporter, from the crowd. The man in question ducked around a booth, but not quick enough to hide from Kyle, who pointedhimout.
“Over there. Might want to get rid of him. Pretty sure he’s not an authorized reporter of your press pool,Jamie.”
Jamie’s mouth ticked downward at the corner. “Get security to escort him out, Gwen. Ban him from the premises of any future branding party while you’reatit.”
Gwen nodded, a fiercely annoyed look in her brown eyes. “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your night,Jamie.”
Then she was off, already flagging down undercover security to go deal with the wayward reporter in their midst. Kyle hoped they slapped Dixon with a trespassing charge and he at least got to spend a night in jail. That would give them a couple of hours to prep for whatever story might be coming down the pipeline. Freedom of the press was all well and good, but Kyle absolutely hated being the center of attention in themedia.
