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She nodded toward his crotch and waved her hand over hers. “Your napkin!”
He looked down, said, “Shit,” then removed the black linen napkin from where he’d tucked it into his belt.
He tossed the napkin onto the lounge seat just in time to hold out his right hand. He turned on his best politician’s charm. “Yuri! How
very good to see you again.”
The Russian ignored Badde’s hand and, instead, first leaned over and lightly kissed Jan on both cheeks.
“It is a pleasure to see you, Janelle,” he said, taking a step back and spreading his arms. “You look fabulous! A movie star!”
Then he turned to Badde and offered his hand.
“We do need to talk,” he said by way of greeting.
Badde motioned for him to have a seat, and he took it.
“This won’t take long,” the Russian said, all businesslike. A waiter arrived and delivered to him a glass of ice water. “How soon does the project move forward, now that the holdouts have left the property?”
Rapp looked to Jan.
She said, “Theoretically, crews could start tomorrow. Realistically? Probably a month.”
They watched as Tikhonov sipped his ice water and considered that.
“Not good enough,” he then said. “Sooner. Too much time has been wasted.”
Ever the politician, Badde smiled and lied, “Of course, Yuri. Sooner.”
He looked at Jan and said, “Sooner, right?”
“Rapp, I’m not sure—”
“Sooner,” Badde repeated, almost as if it were an order, then looked at Tikhonov.
Tikhonov locked eyes with him.
“No promises,” the Russian said. “I want it done.”
Badde then said, “Just so you know, there may be a small delay. We first have to manage a misunderstanding that we killed one of the holdouts by sending the wrecking crew and—”
Tikhonov interrupted him: “It will be no problem. That will be found to be nothing more than an unfortunate accident—”
Rapp interrupted: “That’s what I thought,” he said, giving Jan a glance.
“—and they will find that the others died of natural causes unknown,” Tikhonov concluded.
“How can you be so sure?” Badde asked, clearly surprised.
Tikhonov considered his reply a long moment, then simply said: “Succinylcholine.”
“What?”
“A muscle relaxant,” Tikhonov said conversationally, “sometimes called suxamethonium. Injected, it causes the heart muscle to relax till it stops. Has a very short half-life. Undetectable after perhaps an hour.”
Badde again glanced at Jan, then at Tikhonov. “You did it?”
Tikhonov, stone-faced, took a sip of his ice water, then said, “Of course not. Friends.”
