Page 160 of Cruel Demands

“No one leaves,” I say.

The commander of my protective detail catches up with us. “Governor, you need to come with us.”

“No.”

“The building is under emergency evacuation.”

“The emergency is false.”

“You do not know that.”

“I saw Orlov,” I say. Arkady looks at me sharply. The commander does not understand the significance of the name. “He went that way.”

Arkady’s radio crackles. He listens, expression hardening. “Cameras are down in the private treatment wing, ambulance bay, and service garage. All of them.” He turns to the administrator. “How many ambulances are there?”

The man swallows. “Seven were approved for the event.”

“Hospital property?”

“Two.”

“And the other five?”

“Private contractors.”

“Open every ambulance,” I order. “Search the service garage. Disable every vehicle until Taylor and my mother are found.”

The government commander steps forward. “My officers will secure the ambulance bay.”

“No.”

His expression hardens. “Governor, this is now an active security incident.”

“Your officers watched them take Taylor.”

“We were responding to a medical emergency.”

“You were responding to bait.”

My fingers close around the grip of my gun. Behind us, the supposed dying man is already sitting upright. I can see him through the open doors now, surrounded by physicians. Recovered. Too quickly. The collapse was staged. The gas leak was staged. Every second of confusion was purchased.

Arkady speaks into his radio. “Move now. Pakhan wants every ambulance opened.” The word cuts through the corridor. Pakhan.

For half a second, no one moves. Then a camera clicks behind me. Another. A reporter has followed the confusion through the doors. The hospital director looks at Arkady. Then at me.

The government commander stares at me. Voices rise almost immediately.

“What did he call you?”

“Governor Korolev, are these men part of your office?”

“Are you connected to organized crime?”

Arkady looks at me. He knows what he has done. More importantly, he knows I can still correct him. I can call it a misunderstanding. A joke. A title used improperly by an overzealous subordinate. I can order my men to stand down and allow the government detail to take control.

There are enough cameras here to preserve the lie if I act quickly. Taylor is somewhere beneath this hospital. Thirty-seven weeks pregnant. My mother is with her. And I do not know whether they are still inside the building or already being loaded into one of five ambulances belonging to private contractors.

My political life can survive uncertainty.