"Yeah," I said. "I understand."
My voice came out the way I needed it to. A man agreeing to reasonable terms because the terms were reasonable.
The surfer-boy mask.
The performance of my fucking life.
"Good." Viktor stood. "Take a few days. Clear your head. When the time comes, I will need you sharp."
I stood too. Nodded to Viktor. Turned to Konstantin.
He was watching me with those silver eyes. Still and patient. Reading me the way a jeweler reads a stone, looking for the flaw hidden inside the sparkle.
"Mr. Scott," he said quietly, almost gently. "A word of advice."
I waited.
"Attachment is a liability in our business. It makes intelligent men do unintelligent things." He picked up his pipe. Held it to his nose. Inhaled the unlit tobacco with an expression of appreciation. "I have seen it many times. The outcome is always the same."
He set the pipe down.
"Always."
I gave him the grin. The one that saidmessage received, no hard feelings, we're all professionals here.
"Appreciate the advice," I said.
I walked out of the office. Through the dark restaurant. Past the piano I wouldn't look at. Through the kitchen. Out the door.
The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when I got outside, and I stood there in the parking lot between Viktor's Mercedes and Konstantin's Bentley and breathed.
The mask dropped.
My hands were shaking, and I clasped them together to hide it as I walked the rest of the way to my car, got in, and closed the door.
I couldn't believe I was still alive.
Once I was in the car and out of the hearing range of any cameras, I pulled out my phone and called the number I'd dialed five days ago.
He answered on the third ring.
"Jesus, Milo. It's too fucking early in the goddamn morning."
"How fast can you get it done?"
There was silence on the other end of the call. Then, "We talked about this. Documents take time. Clean ones, the kind that hold up under scrutiny? Two weeks minimum. Maybe three."
"I don't have three weeks."
"Well, I don't have a magic wand. The safe house is almost set. Cash is liquid. But the paperwork?—"
"How fast?"
He exhaled. "Ten days. And that's if I pull in every favor I've got left."
Ten days. I stared through the windshield at the restaurant. The light in the back office was still on.
"Do it," I said. "Fast as you can."
