CHAPTER 18
MILO
The shadow stepped into the light on day five.
I was standing at my kitchen counter, staring at a cup of coffee I'd made an hour ago and hadn't touched, when my phone rang. Pulling it from my pocket, I stared down at Viktor's name on the screen.
A weird sense of deja vu swept over me as I tapped the screen, even before I heard what he said.
"Come to restaurant," he said. "Now."
It was the same command as last time. But there was something different in the tone of his voice that I picked up on right away.
He sounded…what was it? Satisfied?
My stomach dropped.
"On my way," I said, and hung up.
I stood there with the phone in my hand and my cold coffee on the counter and the morning light cutting through the windowsof my loft like it had every right to be here. Like it was just another day. Like the world wasn't about to end.
Then I picked up my keys and walked out the door.
The drive to The Silver Table passed by in a blur of morning traffic.
When I finally arrived, the parking lot was nearly empty, but I recognized two of the three cars that were there—Viktor's Mercedes and Konstantin's Bentley. No kitchen staff. No waitstaff. The restaurant was closed for whatever this was.
I sat in my car for five seconds. Breathing. Building the mask.
Then I walked in.
Like the last time, the dining room was dark. Chairs still up on the tables from last night's close. The Steinway sat on its platform, lid closed, bench pushed in.
The office door was open. Light spilling across the hallway floor.
Viktor sat behind the desk. Konstantin occupied the same chair as before, pipe in hand, unlit. Dmitri stood by the bar with his arms crossed, his nervous finger-drumming replaced by a knowing look that said he'd gotten what he wanted.
The air in the room was different.
They were done asking questions.
This was a sentencing.
"Sit," Viktor said.
After a brief pause where I seriously considered running back out that door, I sat.
Konstantin spoke first. "Mr. Scott. Five days ago, I described a pattern of intercepted shipments and explained that the leak had access to operational details discussed within this restaurant." He reached into the leather briefcase beside him and produced a single sheet of paper. Placed it on the desk facing me. "Three days ago, a specific piece of information was introduced into a conversation at a controlled volume, at a precise time, within earshot of the piano."
He tapped the paper.
"That same information surfaced in a DEA briefing thirty-six hours later."
The room went very quiet.
"The conversation was engineered," Konstantin continued. "The details were unique—fabricated specifically for this test. They were not discussed anywhere else. Not on the phone. Not in this office. Not at any other location. The only place those details existed was in a conversation between two of Viktor's men, at a back booth, during the pianist's second set."
He folded his hands.
