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Max set down his cognac, then steepled his fingers in front of him on the desk.
“Dmitry, the results this week are extraordinary,” he said. “It’s time. Arrange for our usual meeting in St. Thomas one week from tomorrow.”
“Will that give everyone enough time to prepare?” Dmitry asked.
“If they want to win, they’ll make it enough time.”
“True.” Dmitry didn’t challenge his boss on that one—although he often expressed his opinion to Max in ways no one else was permitted to. Max trusted Dmitry, thought highly of his intellectual capabilities, and regularly elicited his thoughts. It was one of the best perks Dmitry enjoyed as the assistant to this brilliant, terrifying man.
“Tell Oskar I expect him to personally oversee all aspects of our meeting,” Max continued. “Tell him I want Maine lobsters this time—not the crap he tried to pawn off on us last time. Also, tell him I expect him to double the number of servers. They move at half the speed of normal people. I expect twice as many to make up for their shortcomings.”
Dmitry nodded. He didn’t need to write things down. He had a photographic memory, particularly when it came to Max.
“I’ll take care of it,” he assured his boss.
“Good.” Max picked up his cognac. “That will be all.”
As the door closed behind Dmitry, Max’s private cell phone rang.
“Yes?” he said in Russian.
“The Barker girl is on the move,” Slava reported, also in Russian. “She bought a train ticket and is on her way to Upper Montclair.”
“Obviously headed for Julie Forman.” Max considered that fact thoughtfully. “She probably read about Robbins’ disappearance and lost control. Speaking of which, I’m assuming you took care of all his pertin
ent files at the Apex Center.”
“Those files are now gone.”
“Good. Then Shannon Barker’s mecca to New Jersey doesn’t concern me, as long as it’s comfort she’s seeking. We’ll have to keep a close eye on her. She could become a loose cannon, if getting together with her mentor results in either one of them deciding to do some more digging. But with Robbins out of the picture, there's really nothing for them to pursue. And Forman's computer friend knows nothing. So they’ll all share one big dead end together.”
“And if they decide to push past that dead end and search for what's beyond it?”
“Then they’ll all share a grave next to Mr. Robbins.”
Upper Montclair, New Jersey
Train Station
Are you here???
Shannon was frantically messaging Julie even before the train came to a stop. The twenty-one-hour ride had given her way too much time to think. She’d checked the online Chicago newspaper sites a dozen times to see if Jim had resurfaced. He hadn’t.
Her worst fears were bubbling up inside her, and she somehow knew they were a reality.
Furtively, she checked her private messages as she walked down the platform.
She nearly sagged with relief when she saw she had a reply from Julie.
Clicking on the response, her face fell.
I was held up at the gym and am now picking up food for us. My friend, Miles Parker, who’s the best guy in the world and completely trustworthy, will be standing at the foot of the platform, waiting for you. He’s wearing an Excalibur (that’s my gym’s name) T-shirt and holding up a sign with your name on it. He’ll get you safely to my place, where we can get you settled in and talk. It’ll be okay, Shannon. And I can’t wait to see you!
The last part brightened Shannon’s mood a bit. She raised her head, scanning the area as she walked.
There.
A tall, scruffy-looking guy with a lopsided grin, wearing a chocolate-brown T-shirt with a gold-embossed logo of crossed swords and the word “Excalibur” on it, was posted in a direct path of the descending passengers. The sign he held up said, Shannon Barker.
