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Marco’s father had built the compound, and he’d wisely situated the conference room just off the foyer. The location prevented visitors from walking through the house, and when Marco took over, he’d incorporated the latest and best technology.
The room boasted hidden cameras in the magnificently molded ceiling, and a hidden panel in the wall behind Marco’s chair at the head of the table. With the touch of a button, a smoke bomb would explode, and he’d vanish. He hadn’t yet needed the emergency escape, but leaving nothing to chance, he quickly checked the invisible door and practiced the maneuver. Though he didn’t anticipate any issues, he would wait for the brothers in his chair, with his finger resting on the detonator beneath the flame mahogany table.
Voices.
They had arrived.
Bracing himself, he watched Joe enter, then hold the door open for the nefarious guests. Oleg, the older, powerfully built brother walked in first. Marco had never seen him smile, but he trusted him more than his sibling.
Ivan followed, his hands thrust in his pockets and his eyes darting nervously around the room. Marco had often wondered if he was a coke head. Their two bodyguards followed, then Marco’s two men, who walked quickly around the table and flanked Marco on either side.
“Hello, Oleg, Ivan,” Marco began, shaking their hands when they approached. “Please have a seat. What would you like to drink?”
“We will not drink now,” Oleg replied in his thick accent as the brothers sat down next to each other. “Forgive this unexpected intrusion. We do not wish to disturb you this way.”
“It must be important,” Marco said, looking directly at him, but also keeping a sharp eye on Ivan. “Tell me what brought you here.”
Leaning forward, Oleg placed his hands on the table and locked his fingers together.
“In my country,” he began, “the police—law agencies—they do their jobs to try to stop us doing our jobs. We are enemies. Like here, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes I make a friend in the enemy camp,” Oleg continued, speaking slowly, as if considering every word. “Maybe he needs money, maybe I solve a problem and he owes me, but whatever the reason he becomes my friend, a friend who helps me. Do you understand how this works, Marco? Maybe you have such friends.”
“Maybe.”
“Our world—it becomes smaller all the time. Friends talk to friends across thousands of miles,” Oleg remarked, then pausing, he lowered his voice. “Do you know this woman?”
On cue, Ivan withdrew a photograph from his pocket and slid it across the table.
Marco’s heart skipped.
Steph lurking in bushes.
Keeping a poker face, he picked it up and nodded his head.
“I do. Why?”
“She follows us. We must find her. Maybe she is with your FBI, DEA, but anyway, maybe she is an agent doing her job to stop us, but you say you know her. How do you know her? What do you know of her? Do you know where she is?”
“I think she may have been following you to find me,” Marco replied, keeping his voice measured.
“Please will you explain this.”
“I have avoided being photographed for a number of years.”
“Yes, we know,” Ivan piped up, speaking for the first time. “It’s clever. I’m going to do that from now on. No pictures.”
“Please continue,” Oleg said, shooting his younger brother a frown.
“I caught her. She was scared shitless,” Marco said, picturing the moment in the forest to give his voice authenticity. “She admitted tracking me to get a picture. I did some checking, and I’m pretty sure she’s not working for the FBI, or any other agency. She’s a careless young woman who ended up being where she shouldn’t for the sake of a snapshot.”
He’d held Oleg’s eyes.
The man’s sharp instincts would have recognized the truth.
