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The room was dimly lit by the chandeliers overhead, the atmosphere hushed as Lyon approached the nine men seated behind the table.
“Good evening,” Lyon said to the members of the Two Spies. “Thank you for seeing me.”
The gratitude was a courtesy of sorts. The Spies were technically under his authority, but there were certain instances where their permission might be required.
Or their forgiveness.
In this case, he’d opted for the former. His reputation as a violent and reckless hothead was well documented. As pakhan, he had to prove those days were behind him, that he could be counted on to act wisely, to seek counsel before taking risks that affected the organization.
Looking at the nine solemn-faced men behind the table, he suddenly hoped he hadn’t been misguided.
“Of course,” Ivan said smoothly. Lyon was almost glad they’d confiscated his weapon at the door. It was hard to look at Ivan — mentor, friend, traitor — and not want to kill him. “We are at your service.”
“It has come to my attention that we are under attack by Vadim Ivanov,” Lyon said. “He was the one who held meprisoner, who has been interrupting our business dealings in the city.”
“Vadim has no authority here,” Nikolai Ilyan said, his Russian accent still thick.
“It seems he wishes to change that,” Lyon said.
“And that is why you’re here?” Dema Latvian asked, his aging voice cracking.
“The only way to eliminate the threat to the organization is to eliminate Vadim and his son Sergei,” Lyon said.
“And you come seeking permission?” Borya asked.
As Annie’s brother and a member of Lyon’s inner circle, Borya was lending Lyon a hand, giving him an opening. He said a silent prayer of gratitude for the man, and for Kira’s foresight in promising him a spot on the council in exchange for his early loyalty.
“I do.” Lyon forced the words from his mouth.
Permission, not forgiveness.
“Might it not be wise to engage in dialogue before bloodshed?” the simpering Pavel Yeltchin asked.
“For god’s sake, the man was tortured and nearly killed by Vadim Ivanov,” Silas Gorky said, his frustration obvious. “What do you suggest he do? Invite Ivanov for tea?”
“Well, no…” Yeltsin said.
“I think we have enough of the details to discuss this matter,” Ivan said. Lyon tried to hide his surprise. “You may wait in the antechamber.”
“Thank you for your time.” Lyon bowed his head and headed toward the door, already thinking about his next move should the Spies deny him permission to eliminate Vadim and Sergei Ivanov.
He stepped through the door to find Alek pacing the room.
“So?” Alek asked.
“They’re discussing it,” Lyon said, straightening his jacket.
“Fuck,” Alek muttered. “What’s to discuss?”
Lyon shrugged. “They’ll be sanctioning the assassination of a former KGB officer, one who still has friends in very high places. It could be a very bad boomerang.”
Alek ran his hands through his hair. “Not as bad as letting Vadim Ivanov take another crack at us.”
Lyon studied him. “How are you?”
Alek looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, howareyou, Alek?” The last few weeks had surely taken a toll on his friend. He’d dealt with the aftermath of the invasion — including Bash’s death — and had then seen to Kira’s needs, all while helping to mobilize the men for Lyon’s rescue.
