And he doesn’t.
There’s a lot he doesn’t know.
After a second, he nods, and I switch the radio on. He barks in Russian and I hold my breath. I don’t know what he says.
Something in my gut tells me idle warnings won’t be enough. I have to show him I’m absolutely serious.
Luckily, I can do that without drawing blood.
I glance over at Cleo, holding the egg in her hands.
“Put it on the desk,” I whisper. “And stand back.”
“Mr. Verity, what are you—”
Fairfax has crawled out from under the desk, poking his head up, apparently not shot after all.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck down,” I growl.
His head dives.
Cleo doesn’t hesitate, setting the egg down and walking several paces away. Fairfax flattens himself on the floor as I raise the gun, aim, and fire.
The egg shatters.
Glittering shrapnel like flashing confetti.
Cleo screams.
Guchkov probably would’ve tried to yell something if I hadn’t been pressing down on his throat. Chips of blue and gold fly everywhere like the murder scene it is.
Fairfax sputters.
Talbot just falls to his knees, shaking his head, mouthing, “No…”
“There,” I snarl at Guchkov while everyone stares in shock. “Now do you believe me? Tell your men. Tell them there’s nothing left to recover. Tell them to abort right now. It’s too late for you—the police are coming—but you can still give your team a head start to get the hell out of the country.”
He considers it for a few stark seconds with his mouth hanging open, his eyes dark and tortured. With the egg obliterated, there’s nothing left to fight over.
No point in sticking around, risking his son, who’ll be wanted for murder if daddy tells them to execute innocents in cold blood.
It’s still a gamble.
I don’t know how much a man like Guchkov cares about his family, but the vacant, killing silence says he might.
Finally, he nods, and I press the button on the radio.
This time, when he grumbles into it, his tone seems different.
Defeated. Resigned.
A younger, startled voice barks back in Russian.
Guchkov repeats his words slowly, then slumps down under my weight.
Behind us, through the ruined door hanging half off its hinges, clattering footsteps.
The cavalry comes late to the party. The SWAT team rushes in a second later in full tactical gear, swinging their guns, demanding everyone stay down.
