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Dr. Lubinov sat at the head of the table, calmly chewing each bite of salmon, pausing only to neatly cut and eat his asparagus. Jim had seen photos of his employer, so there was no major surprise with his appearance. His formal attire wasn’t a surprise, either. Everything about Dr. Lubinov—his public persona and his way of doing business—was sophisticated and formal. He wore a custom-made suit that probably cost more than Jim made in a month. His silk tie was perfectly knotted, and his white dress shirt was crisply pressed.
The only other person present was Dmitry Gorev, a young guy who’d been introduced as Dr. Lubinov’s assistant, and who looked very serious and just as intent on his dinner as Jim was.
The men who had driven Jim here had vanished the instant they’d escorted him into the foyer and removed his blindfold. Just as he’d remembered from before the blindfold, they looked like thugs. Well, Dr. Lubinov needed protection, given the significance and secrecy of his work. But Jim had to admit that he’d heaved a sigh of relief when it’d become clear that they were not going to be dinner guests.
The meal seemed to go on forever.
Finally, Dr. Lubinov folded his napkin and placed it on the table in front of him. As if on cue, an efficient maid entered the room and cleared the dishes away.
It was only then that Dr. Lubinov interlaced his fingers on the table, looked directly at Jim, and spoke. “Well, Mr. Robbins, I hope you enjoyed your meal.” The man’s English was perfect, with only a hint of an accent. “It isn’t often that I invite one of my employees to my home.”
“Your home is beautiful, and dinner was delicious.” Jim felt as if he had marbles in his mouth. The truth was, he hadn’t even glanced around the parts of the house he’d walked through, and he’d barely tasted his salmon. All he wanted was to hear what Dr. Lubinov had to say. “I feel honored to be here.”
“Good.” The doctor nodded, as if that was the expected answer. “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve trained a half dozen of my finest subjects and done an excellent job of increasing their physical potential. I wanted to commend you for that, and to show my appreciation.”
“Thank you.” Jim felt a wave of gratitude. “That means a lot, coming from you. I so admire your work and all you’re trying to accomplish.”
Dr. Lubinov smiled, a patronizing smile, as if Jim didn’t have a clue what the potential of his work was. Well, he probably didn’t. But what he did know was all that mattered. He enjoyed his work. Even more, he enjoyed the money and notoriety he was getting for his “added” assignments. And getting praise like this from the master himself? Jim’s world was complete.
“Of course, there was that incident with the young gymnast, Shannon Barker,” Dr. Lubinov said, never changing expressions. “That was a very unfortunate event. It was the first and only black mark on my research.”
Jim swallowed, hard. He took the exact tactic that he’d planned.
“I was devastated by that,” he said. “Shannon was one of my shining stars. I don’t know if her physical constitution wasn’t up for our trials or if her manager was pushing her too hard.”
“Yuri Varennikov,” Dr. Lubinov supplied. “He’s known to be very hard on his Olympic trainees.”
“Exactly.” Jim’s relief was intensifying by the minute. He leaned forward, a conspiratorial look in his eyes. “I think you should know that both Yuri and Shannon’s parents, not to mention Shannon herself, have all been harassing me. They blame me for what happened. I’ve tried to appease them, but they’ve been relentless. Shannon actually confronted me in the parking lot the other day, spewing nonsense about my working for someone who’s supplying me with PEDs. I, of course, denied everything.”
“That was wise,” Dr. Lubinov said. “Their reaction is to be expected. Shannon’s life is effectively over.”
That caused Jim pause. What did that mean? Was Dr. Lubinov going to have Shannon killed?
He felt a pang of guilt and remorse.
He fought the pang off. It was either Shannon or him. And he wasn’t planning on dying, not even if it meant throwing an innocent teenager under the bus.
“She has no proof,” Jim said, at least trying to save Shannon’s life. “The police wouldn’t take her seriously, believe me. I just think that maybe you should keep an eye on her—just in case.”
“Indeed. I completely agree with that assessment.” Dr. Lubinov signaled to the maid, who hurried in with a bottle of Stolichnaya—a classic Russian vodka that Jim knew cost a pretty penny—and three shot glasses, already filled. She placed the bottle in front of Dr. Lubinov, then carefully placed the shot glasses on the table, one in front of each man, deferring first to her employer and last to their guest.
“Let’s put aside the past and toast to the future,” Dr. Lubinov said. Raising his glass, he nodded in Jim’s direction. “To you, Mr. Robbins. For all you’ve done. Na Zdorovie.”
With that, he put the glass to his lips, threw back his head, and drained the glass. Dmitry followed suit.
Quickly, Jim did the same, trying not to react to the burn of the pure alcohol as it blasted down his throat. He wasn’t a big drinker, and when he did have vodka, it was mixed with orange or cranberry juice. Still, he wasn’t about to insult his boss.
He set down the shot glass, wondering how he was going to turn down a refill without pissing off Dr. Lubinov.
To his surprise, the doctor didn’t offer him another.
That was good. Because the burning sensation in his throat began to spread through his body. It hurt—badly. And he felt lightheaded and sick. He unknotted his tie. He was so hot he couldn’t breathe. His heart began pounding, faster and faster…reaching the point where it felt like it was exploding out of his chest. He fought for air, ultimately sliding off the chair and onto the floor, gasping for air, pain searing through his body.
“The poison is slow-acting enough so I can say what I need to,” Dr. Lubinov said, pouring himself another shot with utter calm. “But don’t be fooled. Ultimately, your death will be horribly painful. As it should be.”
The reality of what Dr. Lubinov was saying sank in. “You poisoned me?” Jim was barely able to speak.
“Of course. Did you really think I would let you get away with tainting my life’s work with your filthy ambition and greed? Did you think I didn’t know that you doubled Shannon Barker’s dosage in the hopes of building a superstar overnight, rather than be prudent and move ahead on schedule? Did you think I didn’t know that you made a public spectacle of yourself in the parking lot, jeopardizing my work with your violent outburst? You’re a stupid, useless fool who I’m going to enjoy watching die.”
