“What?”
“Word has reached Kirill,” he says.
My father.
Of course it has.
“And?”
“He has called a meeting at the old house tonight with his lieutenants.”
“He thinks I’m plotting against him,” I say drily.
“Isn’t that what this is?” Viktor asks.
I open the study door and step inside. Viktor follows.
“Let them meet,” I say.
“There’s more. Chernov has frozen the port transfer. He says he wants confirmation the arrangement still stands.”
I almost laugh. “Confirmation from whom?”
“He didn’t say.”
“He means my father.”
“Yes.”
I move behind my desk and pick up the phone. “Call Chernov.”
Viktor does.
Thirty seconds later, the man answers. His voice is steady for the first sentence. Less steady by the second.
“Yaromir,” he says. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you. Transfer the port rights.”
A pause.
“I was under the impression there might be family complications.”
“There are always family complications.”
“Yes, but given the unusual nature of today’s wedding, I thought perhaps it would be wise to wait until your father confirms the new position.”
I sit in the chair slowly.
Viktor watches me.
“Chernov,” I say, “how many sons do you have?”
Silence.
“Two,” he says carefully.
“Good. Then you understand succession.”
