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Around 3:00 a.m., I unlock the fence leading into the construction site. That bizarre conversation I had with Paige starts up as if it’s a recording in my head.You can go into construction.
Ironically, the one safe place to do my dirty deed is here.
The place she wants me to be.
I pull up along the trailer, wondering who’s on security tonight, if anyone. The high-rise is near completion except for one section. A city ordinance requires a large parking deck, so the site needs to add a second one. I look over the edge of the pit, wondering what’s resting on the bottom. It’s hard to tell in the dark. Will anyone notice the tarp before they pour the concrete?
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
A flashlight blinds me momentarily and then disappears.
“Oh, it’s you,” Tony chuckles. “You want to be careful, Mr. Barinov. I mean … Andrei. Wouldn’t want you to trip and fall over the edge.”
I lower my arm from my face. “No.” I smile. “We wouldn’t want that.”
“It’s late to be out here.” Tony’s gaze looks past me at the tarp lying by my feet. We never talk about my other line of business. What I really do to make money. A few buildings built around the tri-state area each year can’t justify the wealth I possess.
“It’s all right,” I tell him again. “But I need you to be somewhere else right now.” My tone lacks a threat, but it’s a solid warning. I don’t want Tony Nelson involved in any of this. He must stay clean.
He nods but doesn’t walk away. “If I were trying to get rid of something, hypothetically, of course …”
“Yes?” I listen to him with interest.
“I wouldn’t tip it over the edge. Too risky. It may not stay covered or roll somewhere visible. No, I’d use the crane to lower it in and dump some debris over it.” Tony looks at the tarp again. “We’re pouring the concrete tomorrow morning.”
“I know,” I reply. “I saw the schedule.”
He sighs. “You’ll be here till morning if you try to do this alone.” He shines the flashlight into the pit. “I can sneak two guys in before 6:00 a.m.”
I get where he’s heading with this, and good advice comes with a high fee. “What do you want in return, Tony?”
“Real work, boss.” His work boots scrape the ground as he takes a stance. “I can’t support my crew on the amount of work coming in.” He pauses. “I’m not going to lie. I figured you out years ago. But you pay on time and don’t complain when the project runs over budget.”
I look away. “What if I were to tell you I’m thinking of changing professions?”
He doesn’t laugh at my question. In fact, Tony takes it seriously. “I’d say you might live longer.” He sighs. “I’ll get the crane set up. We better hide that thing before it starts to stink.”
Chapter 47
Paige
On the Thruway, my Mercedes leads the way, heading north to the private estate of Radomil Sorokin. The secret meeting at Sorokin’s home was arranged by Anatoli Popov, and he swears that Andrei will not be there. If I see Andrei’s Lamborghini, I’m turning around.
In a few minutes, I’ll see if Popov is a man of his word.
I almost crash my car when I see Sorokin’s magnificent residence. It’s a freaking castle on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. The place looks like a movie set for a thriller or a romance set in the past with turrets and all. I catch my breath as I grasp the wheel tighter, hoping I don’t end up locked in a bedroom again.
Courage, Paige. Don’t you dare show fear.
I rehearsed this meeting daily with my men for a week, the same men in three Rovers now following my car. I can’t act like an outsider in front of Sorokin or Popov. I have to walk into his place like the Bratva queen bee.
No giggling or apologizing for my existence. I can’t jeopardize everything by making a silly enunciation or manners mistake. It all has to be perfect. I even went so far as to practice our arrival using the inn as a stand-in. I won’t use assistance to get out of my car. Slava will hold out his hand, and I will barely touch it. I will never look at him as I get out of my car. I walk in the front with a guard on either side. I am not to touch anything, not even the doorbell.
Finally, I have a real mission for my guards. Nothing is left to chance.
None of us can risk it.
I’ve dealt with Popov before, a charmer with a firm grip on everything. He enjoys playing the social game to get his information. He knows the value of it from all sources, including the maids and the pakhans. But Sorokin is not the type of man to be social because it’s expected. He observes but doesn’t talk. If he doesn’t need you, you’re expendable. Or worse, you just don’t exist.
