Page 70 of Lord of Justice

"Let's discuss the missiles," Nikandr says, inviting him to be seated. Trofim pours drinks before returning to stand by the door, hands folded.

"I have the shipment that I promised you," Dariy says. "Two hundred and fifty surface to air missiles, excellent quality, superior range. This is the sophisticated U.S. technology I acquired; reverse engineered. So, the product is equally superior without the annoyance of having to steal a U.S. shipment."

"Very good, Dariy Agapov," I say. "We thank you for your diligence."

"There is one problem." His cheerful countenance fades. "A new buyer is pushing his way into the market. I would not sell the missiles to him, of course. But I thought you should know."

"Tell us more," I say.

"I am not quite sure how he managed to find me. But when he did, he requested a trade for the shipment of missiles.”

"Trade for what?" Nikandr asks.

Dariy is a murderer. He's just as willing to shoot one of his own guards as he is an enemy. But even this man has his standards. "He wanted to trade me a hundred women for them," he says with disgust. "He referred to them as 'prime meat,' and told me I could get triple their value in the slave markets. I told him no, of course, but he is insistent."

"What's his name?" I ask slowly, precisely. That little whirlpool of fury that was banked inside me is swirling faster.

"Vladimir Fadeyev, he's been doing business in Georgia and Turkey. I can give you a couple of places where I know he operates here in Moscow. His main holding area, where I fear he's keeping these girls, is unknown," Dariy says.

Nikandr frowns. "Why haven't any of the Moscow Six families addressed this?"

"I'm not sure they know yet," he says. "Thissvin'ya,this pig, has been dealing primarily with me."

"Send me everything you have, Dariy Agapov," I say. "This needs to be handled immediately."

He brightens again. "I knew you would have a solution. In the meantime, your shipment is in my most secure location. I'm happy to deliver them to wherever you like, but I want to make sure the handoff is clean and without interference. This Fadeyev, I will not have him interrupting, damaging my reputation."

What the lazy bastard isn't saying is that he wantsusto take care of the problem, rather than risking his own men

"A toast, then," Nikandr says, "to a prosperous partnership."

We clink glasses and patiently follow the polite requirements of conversation for another twenty minutes before we are finally able to escort Agapov back out the door.

It seems I have someone new to slaughter before we can head back home.

Chapter Thirty-Three

In which there are oligarchs, obscene wealth and Jeremy issucha choad.

Iris…

"You know I was raised in a wealthy household," I say, "and I know you were, too. But I kind of feel like my childhood was spent in a backyard shed when I'm introduced to yet another Morozov castle."

"Oh, I hear you," says Caroline. "It is distinctly humbling. Until you realize we totally own these men. They would instantly sign over any of these mansions to us if we asked for one."

"Itisvery satisfying," I agree.

The very sweet housekeeper showed us to our suites, but we still migrated back into my sitting room. It is ridiculously opulent. Beautiful leaded glass windows that look out over the cityscape, with marble floors, which makes no sense to me, because that must be so cold in winter.

"So, what's the plan for tonight?" I ask. "Sightseeing? Dancing?"

Caroline scoffs. "No. We have dinner scheduled with some of the snooty families here. There's a lot of pomp and grandeur here that we don't have to endure at home. You'll meet a shit ton of people. Very few will speak English, even if they know it."

"I've been working on my Russian for two years now," I say. "I'm dreading talking to anyone because I know my grammar is shit."

My phone buzzes angrily, it's Rose.

"Hey, sweetie, what's up?" Her tearful, furious face makes it clear it's nothing good.