"I've thought about your offer," he says. "I'm going to take it. You work for me. You find the ring. In return, you stay alive."
"I have conditions," I say.
Viktor shifts in his chair. I don't look at him.
"Go ahead," Novikov says.
"I need data. Loss reports by table, by shift, by dealer. Historical data going back at least six months. Surveillance footage from the affected areas. And I'll need to see the floor. Watch the tables, the dealers, the patterns in real time."
"You'll get the data. I'll have it sent to you. The footage too." He pauses. "You won't need the floor."
"I can't do this from a screen. I need to see how the dealers move, hear the rhythm of the shuffle, watch the players—"
"You'll have cameras. Every table, every angle. If you need a specific feed, you request it through Viktor."
He's not asking. I look at the office around me, at the locked door I came through, at Viktor by the window.
"I want my phone."
"No."
"I don't have anyone to call." I say this flatly, without self-pity, because it is a fact and I am stating it as one. "Check my call logs. Check my contacts. There's nothing on it."
"No." Okay, that was a long shot, but I had to try.
"And a timeline," I say. "When I find the ring, I leave. That's the deal. I deliver, I walk."
Novikov doesn't answer immediately. He leans against the desk and crosses his arms and the silence stretches.
"Agreed," he says. "When the ring is identified and dealt with, you're free to go."
I’m not sure I believe him. He saysagreedthe way you'd say sure to a child who asks if they can stay up late. I don't trust it and I don't trust him. But it's the best I'm going to get.
"Then we have a deal," I say.
He extends his hand. His palm is warm and dry and large enough to close around mine completely. The contact sends a jolt through my arm that travels all the way up to my shoulder and then down into my chest, and my breath catches and I can't hide it.
I let go. Too fast. He lets me. "Welcome to the Grand, Mr. Holland."
Viktor stands and moves to the door and holds it open. I walk through it without looking back because looking back would mean meeting Novikov's eyes again, and I cannot afford what that does to me.
The corridor is cool and quiet and Viktor walks ahead of me without speaking. His stride is long and I have to work to keep up, which might be a power play or might just be the way he walks. At the elevator, he presses the button and stands with his hands clasped behind his back, staring straight ahead.
"You should know," he says, without looking at me, "that I think this is a mistake."
I don’t answer. I’d already worked that Viktor wasn’t keen on me.
"If I find out you're connected to the people who are stealing from us, what happens next will not involve a suite and scrambled eggs. I want to be clear about that."
"You're clear."
He grunts. The elevator arrives. We step in. The doors close. Viktor presses twenty and we descend one floor in silence.
The doors open. He leads me down a corridor I haven't seen before, past rooms that look like offices, and stops at a door near the end.
"This is yours while I arrange a better set up," he says. "Desktop in there has access to the systems he's approved. The password is on the desk. Change it to something secure."
He starts to walk away.
